[Sirius Black's wanted posters had made Muggle news, and after Voldemort's return, Scrimgeour had met with the Muggle Prime Minister.]
Anything extraordinary breeds curiosity and greed. The students couldn't grasp that, but what baffled Lucifer was that most adults in the Wizarding world didn't seem to grasp it either.
Dumbledore's reaction earlier, the terror and fury when he saw the photos and heard Grindelwald explain, was genuine. He had truly been shocked to his core.
Watching the Slytherins seethe with rage, looking ready to storm the Muggle world for revenge, he finally spoke up.
"Quiet." His voice was laced with magic. Instantly noise died and dozens of eyes turned toward him, Lucifer scanned the room, while secretly casting a 'Stress-Relief Charm,' "If Grindelwald showed those photos, then I guarantee those people's fate is already sealed. Even if you want revenge, you won't find anyone left to avenge against."
Considering Grindelwald's methods and beliefs, no one questioned that. The tension eased a little.
"Tragedies have always existed. Danger has always been close, this isn't much different from the Witch Hunts we learn about in 'History of Magic', only now it's hidden and handled by fewer people."
"You don't need to overthink it. I stand with wizards in this. But I don't support retaliation."
"Why not! Morningstar, didn't you see the damn pictures?"
"Because you don't know who your enemy is," Lucifer answered patiently to whom he recognised as Everett, "Randomly attacking Muggles would only increase the risk of exposing the Wizarding world. Then you'd be criminals against your own kind. Can you bear that? And besides... Dumbledore was right about one thing." His voice dropped to a tune, "This is the Ministry's responsibility. So, if they can't handle it, then we replace them with people who can."
The burden didn't die in Slytherin, he would have to pay several visits to other House's Common Rooms.
xxxxxxx
Inside the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore rarely seen so rattled, was in the middle of a fierce argument with Grindelwald, "You shouldn't have told the children any of that! Why didn't you talk to me first?!"
"Because I knew this would be exactly how you reacted, Albus. And if I told you beforehand, how would I get the result I wanted?"
"Gellert, do you just want the whole world thrown into chaos?"
"No. I want them to see the world as it truly is, cruel and real, instead of living wrapped in the little safety bubble you've woven around them."
"They're still kids!"
"Everyone has the right to know the truth."
Neither could convince the other.
Dumbledore sank back into his chair, his breathing heavier than usual. The office fell into a tense quiet, then Grindelwald stood up, pulled out the photographs, and held up for the past headmasters who were peeking from their portraits, explaining how he got.
It didn't take long before the portraits erupted in 'furious' shouting.
Phineas pointed at Dumbledore and snapped, "This is what you call an era of peace?! Wizards reduced to test subjects for Muggles! You should've joined forces with him back then and flipped the whole damn world over!"
"Phineas!" Armando Dippet barked, stopping him. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end only sighed helplessly.
"Mr. Grindelwald," Dippet asked, "did you rescue those children?"
Grindelwald spoke evenly, with a pained, regretful expression on his face, showing exactly what he had done to both victims and criminals, "I found them a place to rest. Everyone involved paid with their lives. As for whoever was behind it, I haven't dug that far yet. Muggle employment networks are... complicated, layers upon layers like spy rings and double agents. It'll take time."
"Good. For once, you're right, the world really needed you," Phineas said bluntly, not hiding his praise.
Throughout all of this, Dumbledore only watched and listened silently. He didn't refute anything, nor did he condemn Grindelwald for ruthlessness. In fact, he knew that if it had been him in that situation he likely wouldn't have resisted striking back either.
Grindelwald turned, walking back to his spot, but he didn't sit, instead looked down at the old man and said, "I told you, we were never enemies, and we never will be. Both of us care about this world. We just walk on different roads. You're too passive, Albus. Always waiting for the enemy to move before you act. You did it with me, and you did it again with Voldemort."
"Albus, you need to change. Standing still is the same as 'falling' behind." With that, Grindelwald didn't wait for Dumbledore's response. He strode out of the office, still needed to discuss the photographs and their discovery with Lucifer
And whether Dumbledore would understand, or shed the tired aging mindset he'd slipped into, he didn't know. But Gellert hoped to see that ambitious fierce Albus again, the one who once wanted the world to hear his voice.
xxxxxx
Inside the Pocket Space,
Everyone sat around the round table, Lucifer was pouring bitter sweet Scotch into his glass for the 'fifth' time, while Grindelwald told them what he'd uncovered with the information Robert Graves provided. The ones experimenting on young wizards were people in North America. Was it an official operation?
No, but the people behind it could influence, even control, official institutions. In practice, the difference was negligible.
"They know almost nothing about wizards," Grindelwald said, a cold laugh slipping out, "To them, we're just a rare mutation. And for that, we have to thank the 'International Statute of Secrecy'. If they knew there were at least a hundred thousand wizards living right under their noses, they'd never sleep soundly again."
Makima had frowned. She'd done experiments far crueler than the ones in the photos, but her subjects were criminals, enemies, who deserved it. There was guilt, but not much. That was why she condemned Reze's idea of using slaves in cruel ways, and taught her some principles. But now... these mortals had used children, that was the vilest thing imaginable in any human mind, innocent, pure six-year-olds in such a bloody way.
Even someone with her cold personality felt anger rising. Her gaze flicked toward Lucifer, who hadn't spoken once. If Makima looked like that, no one else needed mentioning.
Mazikeen was practically vibrating with fury, itching to storm out and slaughter mankind.
"Some things can't be rushed," Lucifer finally said, setting down his glass, and making a blend of Bourbon, "Makima, you know better than what comes from slaughtering Mortals without restraint. A 'full-scale' war with Heaven is possible. If it breaks out, both sides end up destroyed."
Grindelwald's public lecture brought some changes to school, and yet on the surface nothing at all.
Students went to class as usual and life kept moving. The news from that night spread fast, but an invisible hand pressed it all back down.
The 'Daily Prophet' didn't report anything either. Some things, even if they leak out, can't be made public. Exposing them would have consequences too terrible to imagine.
But seeds had already been planted in certain hearts. They only needed the right season to sprout, bloom, and bear fruit. After afternoon classes, Lucifer originally planned to train with Hermione, but someone intercepted him at the door.
"I talked it over with Granger. She said I can borrow you for an hour." Tracey didn't even give him a chance to speak before shutting down any objection.
Lucifer stared at her. Borrow him? Was he being treated like an object?
Still, seeing Davis march over despite all the weird looks from other students, he nodded. After a quick word to Daphne, he followed her out of the castle.
Navigating the halls with ease. Soon the two of them were standing by the Black Lake. The weather was nice, and giant squid was sunbathing on the surface. Since Tracey wasn't saying anything, Lucifer had to start somewhere, "So when did you and Hermione get so close?"

"Hardly," She glanced back at him and replied in a sarcastic sing-song tone, "It's called sticking together to survive. We're both 'kinda' outsiders in your harem especially after what Valentine did, and there are way more girls lining up to marry you. If we don't band together, we'll get stomped into the dirt."
Lucifer played dumb, not even blinking differently. Of course he wasn't going to admit he understood what she was talking about, a certain someone's collection of little witches.
"That's good then. You two should share notes, help Granger to get a strong result in the Tournament."
Tracey rolled her eyes. She knew perfectly well he was pretending not to get it, but there was nothing she could do. The advantage always lay with people who had nothing to fear.
"I actually just wanted to ask you something." Taking a deep breath, Tracey dropped all side routes, and went straight for it, "What's going on with you lately? Why do you act like... like you don't care about the progress of your products?"
She'd come to Hogwarts excited after Christmas Break, not just for Tournament, but to show off her achievements she'd made in North America, with her father's contacts, even helping a girl named, Miltie, and then co-ordinating with Carrow.
But reality wasn't as pretty as she imagined. Last week she finally caught Lucifer and proudly presented her work, but nothing made him react. He praised her, sure, but Tracey could tell the compliments were surface level. It terrified her. She knew her talent in magic didn't compare to his.
Even among her generation, she wasn't the most dazzling. The one thing she had was this unexpected business talent she'd stumbled onto.
Lucifer used to care a lot about money. That made her feel valuable. But now he didn't seem interested. So did that mean she wasn't useful anymore?
For days she'd lost her appetite and couldn't sleep. After agonizing over it, she finally chose to just ask. If not, the question would eat her alive.
Looking at her wide eyes-stubborn, but scared too. He only had to think for a moment to figure out what was racing through her head. A gentle smile softened his face.
He stepped closer, reducing the space between them, "Tracey, you're misunderstanding me." He held her gaze, and she couldn't look away even if she wanted to, "I don't care about money. I've never cared."
There's a technique in psychology: when someone felt confused, you observe, you listen, then you said exactly what hit them in the heart... You gain trust fast, along with a lot of goodwill. It's called cold reading. The key, of course, was to strike the sore spot and recognize the point they need you to validate. Lucifer was a master at that. He saw Davis's state at a glance: low confidence, and a very real fear of being abandoned.
This... had he accidentally beaten 'Stockholm syndrome' into her?
"I repeat, Tracey, I've never cared about money." Lucifer cleared his throat and straightened his back. The girl stared in disbelief. "You don't care about money? Who ran all the way to North America just to collect debts from Gringotts? And who makes me send weekly sales reports?"
"That was to push you," he said patiently, "I discovered your talent and wanted you to work hard in business. To do that, you need a bit of pressure. Now that you're a competent little profiteer, I don't need to focus on the money anymore."
"So that's how it is..."
The last speck of light faded from her purple eyes. Of course. She'd always suspected money meant nothing to this boy. If he ever needed any, Daphne pampered heiress extraordinaire, would dump piles of it at his feet.
Which meant Tracey Davis had no real value after all.
The classic trick: break a person's confidence, then save from the low point to bind them firmly to you, Lucifer had used it so often it was practically instinctual.
Seeing Davis about to spiral into questioning her entire existence, he finally continued, "But what you're doing now matters a lot to me."
The girl snapped her head up.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke seriously, "You have so much more potential, Davis. I've been researching new Car products, and with your distribution network, once I'm done, we'll be able to launch them across North America in no time."
"So, don't think what you do is pointless... Money is just numbers, we don't need it personally, but it can be traded for the things we do need. So, keep pushing. Make sure every Wizarding household has something we sell. That way I can work with less pressure. Understand?"
Tracey's defeated aura evaporated. Her beautiful purple eyes lit up again. She nodded hard at her fiance's earnest expression, then quickly tilted her chin up, pretending she hadn't been that eager, "Knew you couldn't live without me. Just wait. The Davis 'family' will surpass Vole's, and be the strongest business house in North America soon."
Lucifer piled on more encouragement. And though she tried to keep her cool, her eyes were crescent-shaped the whole walk back to the castle, and her steps were light like she was walking on cotton.
Watching her disappear up the stairs, he figured that for the next few months, maybe even a year or two, he wouldn't need to feed Tracey any more motivational soup. She'd handle the self-delusion herself.
At that moment, Ginny popped out of nowhere like a ghost. "Bagged another one?"
"Ow!"
Lucifer flicked her forehead without looking, he had long since known she was hiding. Ginny pouted and rubbed the spot, "What? Am I wrong? Did you see Davis's face? Her grin was about to launch into orbit."
"Don't talk nonsense." He turned around and patted her hair, "Tracey and I were having a serious talk about expanding product distribution. She's happy because she's about to make a lot of money."
At the mention of money, Ginny's eyes practically turned into Galleons, "Lucifer, I also want to..."
The Weasley household wasn't exactly thriving. Even with two graduates working, nothing changed. The family was bizarre: the older generation didn't care about at at all. Their vault could echo and they'd still be cheerful.
The younger generation, on the other hand, valued money more than life. The twins had cut back on pranks so they could work odd jobs for Lucifer. Ron dreamed of Galleons at night. And Ginny... well, she was a tiny money-goblin too, beyond saving.
But girl never asked Lucifer for money directly. She wanted to earn it, like the twins. Unfortunately, she had zero talent for alchemy, so he had to find other ways to top off her little wallet, "If you want to support, get stronger. After you graduate, you can be my bodyguard."
Ginny blinked. "Me? Guard you?"
On what planet? She had no idea how strong he was, but she was sure he could wipe the floor with her a hundred times over.
"What's the problem?" Lucifer asked, dead serious, "Any trash-tier enemy deserves me personally? In the past I handled things myself because none of you were strong enough. It was embarrassing... Once you can hold your own, if I still do everything, why did I bother training you girls?"
That actually made sense. She got hustled without noticing, and promised solemnly that next time Knockturn Alley-level trash showed up, it would be her problem.
They chatted casually on the way to the Great Hall. Halfway there, Ginny suddenly remembered why she'd been looking for Lucifer in the first place, "Keep an eye on Hermione, she's acting weird today. After class, girl went straight to the Common room and buried herself in books. She's snappier too... Ron and Harry were talking a bit loud and she tore into them."
"Weird? She didn't look that way to me, even said I could go have fun with Daphne," Lucifer thought back over Hermione's behavior that day, noticing she had even allowed Davis to contact him, then didn't comment any further, just nodded, "Alright, I'll keep that in mind..."
Ginny's observation was spot-on.
Hermione really wasn't acting normal. The photos Grindelwald showed had clearly set her off again. She'd gone back into that obsessive problem-solving mode, determined to end the tragedy on her own terms.
But how? Her only path was to dig through books, trying to find similar cases and borrow the wisdom of predecessors. But that topic was too sensitive, almost no books recorded Muggle curiosity or research on wizards, and even medieval history only skimmed the surface.
More importantly, even if Hermione figured out an idea, what identity, what authority did she even have to put it into practice?
Which meant Lucifer gained yet another task these past few days-guiding his beloved Miss Know-It-All back onto the right track.
Dreams and ideals aren't what mattered most, what did was whether your ability and position actually match them. Otherwise you'll never reach a point where thought and action aligned.
But with Hermione's stubbornness, even Lucifer's silver tongue, good enough to sway almost anyone, couldn't 'fix' things overnight. It wasn't until the weekend that little witch 'finally' began to shift her focus onto studying for exams.
xxxxxxx
Up in the top seats of the stands, Grindelwald watched as Harry practiced on his firebolt, doing a victory lap, and was celebrating wildly with his teammates; Wood was so excited seeing the Cup in George's hands, he was grinding Potter's hair into a bird's nest.
"Dumbledore, this is the 'savior' you've been raising?" Grindelwald's eyes were sharp, as if they could pierce straight through the scarred boy. After a few seconds he shook his head, "Aside from some athletic talent and decent reflexes, I've seen nothing out of the ordinary these past months....You're doing it again, pinning your hopes on someone else. First it was Scamander, now it's this Harry Potter, your Chosen One. Aren't you tired of playing children's games, grooming little heroes?"
Dumbledore fell silent at that. He wasn't offended. Grindelwald's jab at his methods didn't bother him. What irked was the sudden jolt of realization in his chest. 'The Savior... The Chosen One... The Boy Who Lived...'
It had been a long time since he'd heard these titles. And that wasn't Harry's fault, it was Voldemort's whose presence this year was so faint he could've forgotten he existed at all.
Coincidentally, on this very day, not long before this moment, after surviving countless hardships and obstacles, the great Dark Lord finally regained one of his most loyal servants.
The moment Nebula saw that weak, tattered cloud of black mist that was the Dark Lord, she burst into tears and fell to her knees, "Master, my master! I finally found you!"
....Richard Graham also felt like crying, though his wife wept from excitement while he cried inside from pure misery at the display, what had Bellatrix Lestrange done to the beloved? It had been over half a year since they had 'felt' Dark Mark's presence, the days afterward had gotten worse and worse.
Nebula was totally unhinged. Especially after leaving their son in Britain, and setting out in search of Voldemort. They slept in the open, ate what they could, and hid wherever was desolate enough cause, she didn't need Aurors watching her.
And each time she tried to locate Voldemort through the Dark Mark, it was a nightmare. The connection flickered on and off, so they zigzagged across continents. They would reach a destination only for the signal to jump somewhere else.
Their journey took them from Northern Europe to Spain, and now somehow all the way into a tribal region in Africa, "Nebula... did you say Black escaped from Azkaban? But my loyal followers could not?" Voldemort sounded genuinely annoyed, but then he relaxed to a degree, "Nothing to dwell on, you did very well..."
Anyone else say, Lucius Malfoy or the other Death Eaters who were still living comfortably, would not have earned that tone. In his current state, Voldemort was painfully aware that those who bowed only to fear and power wouldn't stay loyal to a helpless phantom.
They would have some other motive for seeking him out. But Nebula Graham was different, on par with Bellatrix Lestrange. She was one of the Death Eater he had trusted most. His loyal hound, betrayal was simply not in these women's nature.
Hearing his question, Nebula's joyful expression faltered, "Master, they're still in Azkaban. It happened like this..." She explained how Black had escaped, and told everything that happened afterward, "Wandless Stunning or Obliviate...' Interesting, not bad for a Blood traitor. Once I return, you'll be rewarded for finding me Nebula..."
Richard nearly choked from excitement, unaware that Voldemort was just saying things. He had flattered Quirrell the same way once. His attention was actually 'fixed' on something else entirely.
"You said Grindelwald attacked Hogwarts? And dueled Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked, unable to contain himself, "Tell me everything you know, every detail."
Nebula didn't dare leave anything out. She strained her memory, recounting the battle scene as best she could. Unfortunately she had been far away at Graham's Manor, and her son's view was limited.
Voldemort fell silent, piecing together Grindelwald's power from that thin scrap of information, and muttered, "No wonder he dared come after me. He's a strong opponent... but they're all old men now. It is I, who will conquer death..."
"Came after you?" She stared wide-eyed, her already bulging eyes looking ready to drop out. "Master, you met Grindelwald?!"
"Yes."
He didn't bother hiding it, was already miserable enough, might as well admit that he had fled from the Albanian forest because of Grindelwald, chased until he tumbled into this 'forgotten' wasteland.
The Grahams couple were stunned that two Dark Lords had clashed so soon, but neither doubted Voldemort's strength. If anything, it made him seem even more terrifying. If he could escape from Grindelwald while half-dead, then at his peak they must be nearly equals.
Richard suddenly felt their whole journey was worth it. Once Voldemort returned, they could storm Britain, maybe even Hogwarts, his wife couldn't restrain herself at all, she wanted to see Mistress Bella again, and eat her pussy, "Master, what do you need me to do? How can I help you recover?"
"No rush. First find me a wizard... not a strong one. I'm very weak right now, I can't even properly possess a suitable body. Everything must be done slowly."
Voldemort was in a state neither alive nor dead. The thing speaking to them was basically his disembodied consciousness, escaping Grindelwald had come at a heavy cost. His mind slipped into sleep at random, and if that continued, one of those might last months, then years, then forever.
Until he became nothing but a wandering ghost, purpose forgotten.
She eventually captured a tiny leaf-green snake barely three months old and stunned it with the 'Imperius Curse.' Voldemort managed to force himself into the snake. Then the two people and one reptile, made for the nearest city. Along the way, Mrs. Graham described what had changed in Britain and Europe.
Unlike Voldemort, Nebula could buy Wizarding newspapers overseas, so they were fairly up to date.
The more he listened, the worse he felt, now the washed-up loser he once despised, an old man defeated by Dumbledore, had the whole magical world stirred up. At his own brightest, Voldemort had never shaken so much like Grindelwald was doing.
Though envy flickered through him, his mind was clearer than Gellert's on one point: until the biggest obstacle, Dumbledore, was removed, any glory was meaningless. Only when he was the world's strongest would 'fame' and power fall into his hands as naturally as breathing.
For now, the priority was to nourish his mind and craft for himself a perfect vessel.
xxxxxx
While Lucifer pampered a brooding girlfriend by letting to suck on his nipples, 'fourth-year' dueling bracket reached its final match.
Camado and Rorsell were tied in wins, and organizers had scheduled their duel as closing fight. Whoever won would take that division.
But even with several professors tutoring him, Rorsell couldn't withstand Camado's signature forest spells. She bombarded him until he toppled unconscious with a spectacular frizzled hairdo.
Snape's face was darker than Rorsell's burnt hair. Even so, his reflexes were fast. He flicked his wand and caught the boy before he hit the ground.
Three rounds of competition had passed so far. The 'first' two winners were Hogwarts students, both from Gryffindor. And the one Slytherin who finally made it up there just lost.
How was Snape supposed to look anyone in the eye after that?
The Castelobruxo chaperone finally relaxed and even smiled, and several other school faculty seemed visibly relieved. At least someone besides Hogwarts won a match. If the Hosts kept sweeping the board, what was the point of taking the risk of excluding Morningstar from competing in the first place?
Grindelwald suddenly stood up making his old friend Dumbledore look at him, puzzled, "The matches are over. Why are we still here?" He tilted his head. "Unlike you, I actually have a life... and an entourage known as the Acolytes."
Then walked out without waiting for a reply, with rest of the Durmstrang party scrambling after him.
In reality, Grindelwald had felt Lucifer calling him. Most of his consciousness had already slipped into the pocket space, and he'd left quickly to avoid Dumbledore noticing anything strange.
That boy was clearly getting busier by the day. And before anyone realized, another week had passed, Saturday was already here.
This undeniably belonged to Hufflepuff. Not only did they almost defeated Slytherin in Quidditch, but once Cedric Diggory got off his broom he turned into Hogwarts' champion in the Dueling Tournament and won every match, taking 'fifth-year title.'
The badgers were thrilled, cheering loudly in the Great Hall and turning their table into the rowdiest place in the room. Hufflepuff had always been Hogwarts' background furniture. Not outstanding, not eye-catching. Plenty of students couldn't even name all the badgers in their own year.
Lucifer was the same, there were just too many good people. Still, the badgers never minded, living quietly was fine. But now that Cedric had brought honor home, they finally tasted the sweetness of being publicly admired. It felt good to hold their heads high for once.
After the banquet, Crouch hurried back to London. His job focus had been shifting toward the Arkham Asylum Guild. Preparations for the summer "Quidditch World Cup" were gradually being pushed back to the Department of Magical Games & Sports.
Ludo Bagman was a classic screw-up, full of wild stories and bragging about his glory days as an athlete. The only reason he ever became the Head of this Department was because his athletic career padded his résumé. Thankfully his staff weren't all useless like he was.
Barty Crouch decided he didn't need to worry about Ludo for now. What mattered was planning his next move. After all, thanks to his connections, and Lucifer's reputation as a deterrent, another five countries had agreed to open branch guilds. What's more, aside from Banfield' Maids, he still needed to appoint a Branch Director to handle coordination and networking.
Ideally it should be someone influential from the local wizarding community, but influence didn't guarantee loyalty. Crouch was stuck.
Then just as he arrived in London, Lucifer tossed another candidate his way. Seeing the assignment details, Crouch's scalp tingled and he let out a helpless smile.
"Does Mr. Morningstar want to work me to death?" Now, he finally understood how his subordinates felt.
One order and everyone below was running frantic. No, compared to the Ministry's hierarchy, the dynamic between him and Lucifer was way more serious. Govt. employees could slack off, did he have that luxury? Not a chance. So even if it gave him a migraine, if the boss gave an order, he had to make it happen.
xxxxxx
Sunday, was open at Hogwarts.
Students from other regions had long been curious about Hogsmeade, and today they finally got their wish. Blending into weekend crowds, they arrived at the world-famous wizarding village.
Naturally, Lucifer was spending the day with Darcy, and not just her, he had Alexandra in tow as well.

"That's so unfair, why does big sister get to hogg all your attention? I want us kissing too in the snow..."
The little girl was using the WhatsApp's video feature, her big blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as she chattered nonstop about everything she saw, tossing out one odd question after another.
He was always patient with little kids, even bought a pile of souvenirs for Valentine to take home to Alex, completely oblivious to the older sister rolling her eyes so hard they were about to launch into the back.
xxxxxx
But while students relaxed in the village, Professors had no such break. In the Headmaster's office, the leaders of each school had gathered, Grindelwald included, as well as Crouch, who had called the meeting. When he finished pitching his idea, reactions around the room were mixed.
"We can participate in the Triwizard Tournament too?" The Professor, leading Castelobruxo's delegation, Alessio lit up, "Mr. Crouch, that really is an excellent proposal. Wizards have strengths beyond dueling, this would showcase much more."
"But... historically, the participating schools have always been fixed, haven't they?" Isabella nodded, she'd been thinking the same. The two American schools exchanged students all the time and got along well, but that also meant they'd already traded most of their advantages. More exchange wouldn't do much.
....Interaction with European schools, however, was their goal, if only Ilvermory dropped ideas of concealing magic. Joining the "Triwizard Tournament" meant selecting champions, bringing more students to Hogwarts and exposing to a completely different educational style.
Crouch only shook his head at their concern, "Competition is heart of the Triwizard Tournament, the title of world's strongest magical school is what's at stake. Expanding to four, five, or more schools only increases the event's legitimacy and prestige. Back then it was only three schools because... travel and communication were difficult. But times have changed. The Muggle world talks about globalization, the Wizarding world must adapt in its own way. Madame Maxime, Mr. Grindelwald, what are your thoughts?"
Gellert responded with a carefree smile, as he leaned back, "Doesn't matter to me, more excitement sounds nice. Otherwise I'll get bored. Can't spend every day considering which Ministry to annex, right?"
Aside from Dumbledore smiling helplessly, no one else dared laugh. They were all on edge, had learned over time this Dark Lord's 'favorite' pastime was dropping terrifying statements in a joking tone and the scary part was, he never spoke idly. Just recently, the Ministry of that country in the joke had surrendered.
Maxime let out an awkward chuckle partly to break the tension, partly to state her stance, "Any school wishing to join the Triwizard Tournament is welcome in my view. The results don't matter nearly as much as what students can learn and how they can grow from it..."
Hearing both of them voice support, Castelobruxo representatives couldn't hide their smiles.
"That leaves you, Albus," Crouch said, turning to the elderly wizard seated calmly behind his desk. "As the host, your opinion matters most."
Dumbledore shrugged helplessly, what could he say now, "You've all already decided. Do I still have the right to refuse?" He didn't care much about these smaller details. Like Barty said, whether it's three schools, eight, or sixteen, made no difference to him.
If they could use the tournament to keep Grindelwald occupied and away from trouble, that was what truly mattered. Ah well... for the sake of world peace, he would even sacrifice himself a little.
Suddenly, Dumbledore remembered an important task and quickly added, "Barty, if we're expanding the tournament, then surely Ministry's budget----"
"Relax, Albus," Crouch interrupted with a small smile, "All funding for this event will be covered entirely by the Arkham Asylum Guild."
Everyone stared, baffled, where were those loads of Galleons coming from? When the meeting ended and the others had left Headmaster's office, Grindelwald remained behind.
"You need something?" Dumbledore looked at him curiously.
"Nothing serious." He pulled out a small nail clipper and casually trimmed them, which he had left pending for a while, "A few kids came to me asking for a friendly Quidditch match against Hogwarts. If you agree, I'll have Vinda go pick a roster and switch the sixth and seventh year match schedules. Krum will have to go back for it too...If you don't agree, pretend I never said it."
"That's odd. You, of all people, asking me for a favor? For Quidditch no less. You've always treated it as nonsense."
"Ask you?" The lazy teasing smile instantly vanished from Grindelwald's face, his expression hardening, eyes turning cold, "If that counts as asking, you've begged me dozens of times in the last few months. Besides..." He clicked his tongue, "You really think I'm that bored? Obviously there's another reason."
Of course there was.
A spark of realization passed through Dumbledore's eyes. He skipped the guesswork and asked directly, "Mind telling me the real reason?"
"Ask your star student."
"Lucifer?" Dumbledore immediately knew who he meant.
Grindelwald sighed with exaggerated helplessness. "Yes, that kid. He posted a task at Arkham Asylum in Berlin. He needs a match 'flashy' enough to draw attention. You know I have no interest in Galleons. But the reward he offered is a bit too tempting."
"What did he promise you?"
When had these two started working together? What shady deals had already been made? Every question made him more uneasy, Albus Dumbledore's heart tightened. What kind of reward could actually make Gellert change his behavior?
"Bloodline Fusion Elixir."
Grindelwald didn't bother being mysterious. He took out a small vial of vivid green liquid, "Drink it and you gain Basilisk bloodline traits and a massive extension to your lifespan. I need it. Vinda needs it. And a 'few' other old friends need it too."
Dumbledore froze in shock as the man in front seat shook his head with false regret, "Shame the kid only offered one bottle. Would've been nice to have more...."
After saying that, Grindelwald left, while the Headmaster stayed seated, looking like the sky was falling. This was serious trouble, he had never once considered Gellert would give the potion to anyone else.
Obviously, he'd use it on himself first. Which meant... in the future, he might have to face a Dark Lord with Basilisk blood and an 'extended lifespan?'
Merlin's red balls. Was he ever going to could live now retire? Who knew how long Grindelwald thirty more years? Fifty? Dumbledore was speechless. Was he supposed to stick around for another three to five decades?
Right now, he genuinely felt like choking Lucifer. Did that boy have any idea that gifting one potion just delayed an old man's retirement by decades? And that was the optimistic scenario. If Grindelwald got more vials, who knew how long he'd stick around.
One day, Dumbledore would be so old he could barely lift a wand while Grindelwald was still bouncing around. Who on Earth would be able to keep him in check then?
Well... someone could.
He firmly believed Lucifer wouldn't let him take over the world. And then there was Voldemort, prophecy bound snake destined to return someday.
"Wonderful, truly wonderful. What karmic disaster had the world committed to spawn these three in the same era? Fawkes...." Dumbledore let out a tired sigh and called to the phoenix, who had finally returned home, "My bird, do me a favor and bring Lucifer to me."
Fawkes had been preening his feathers. Hearing the order, he gave two annoyed squawks, refused to move until every feather was perfectly arranged, then burst into 'flame' and vanished.
But Dumbledore waited... and waited... and the boy never showed up, phoenix never came back either. The old wizard stared blankly at the door. Where on earth had that child gone?
Inside his pocket dimension, Lucifer was scribbling furiously. Since the 'first' chapter of Evelyn's 'History of the Wizarding World' had been published, more than a year had passed. And as his own reputation grew, connections with Greengrass developed, the media kept pushing it, public recognition shot above rating of ninety percent.
It even had a proper print release, which inspired Lucifer to take revenge on Bathilda Bagshot, and start writing his own version of 'Hogwarts: A Complete History.'
Of course he knew Dumbledore wanted to see him. But he was in full inspired-author mode, and when Fawkes delivered the message, Lucifer had simply waved him off to go play with Usagi.
Nothing was more important than 'finishing' his book. As for Dumbledore's inevitable questions, he already knew what they would be.
Did he really think this was Lucifer's idea? Please, Grindelwald just didn't want to watch Dumbledore wither away in silence.
He'd asked Lucifer to cooperate and give the old man a kick in the shins, something to live for, and fight toward. It wasn't until ten at night, when Dumbledore was about to turn in, that Fawkes finally reappeared in front of him with the boy in tow.
"Professor, you're here to ask about the deal between me and Grindelwald, right?" Lucifer spoke before Dumbledore could even get a word out, who nodded in delight, he wouldn't have to explain more.
"The price you paid was enormous. Even I was startled, everyone knows Grindelwald's biggest weakness is age. No matter how youthful he looks, it doesn't change the fact that he's over a century old. With basilisk blood, who knows how long he could live?" Dumbledore didn't hesitate to push further, "Lucifer, maybe you aren't in conflict now, but if you're planning to expand your influence globally... in the future, he's your biggest rival. From that perspective, aren't you arming your own enemy?"
"Professor, is longevity really that hard a problem for you all?"
Dumbledore slightly coughed, he was caught off guard how he took the Wizards' lifespan so easily, as the boy continued.
"Forget other sources. Just in your library I 'found' three methods to extend lifespan. They're all dark magic, sure... but Grindelwald is well, he's the Dark Lord. Even without my potion, he knows more than I do. Extending his life by a few decades isn't a challenge. And if he really wanted to push it, he could make Soul Shards..."
He wasn't wrong, forget Grindelwald even Dumbledore himself could easily add decades, maybe a century, if he truly wanted.
Plenty of wizards had such methods. Ask Armando Dippet in the portrait over there. He only just died at three hundred and thirty-three years old, nearly half a Nicolas Flamel.
Dumbledore 'finally' understood Lucifer's deal with Grindelwald didn't change much; if anything, it gave him insight into the wizard's mindset. The man wasn't fading quietly into old age he was planning for round two.
The tension in the office loosened considerably.
"Ahem..." Dumbledore let out an awkward chuckle, "My apologies, I was jumping to conclusions."
"No worries." Lucifer waved it off generously.
"But, I understand what you're saying. Just don't underestimate Gellert." Dumbledore still tried the patient-teacher approach, otherwise where could he show his face, "If he agreed to your deal, it means potion benefits him greatly. You don't know him, but I do. He never does anything without profit. If you ever need something, come to me first, he will swindle you. I'm your Headmaster."
Lucifer nodded repeatedly. When he'd entered the office, he'd opened his space, so Grindelwald had heard every word. His expression hadn't changed, but in his head he'd cursed damned old man a hundred times.
"Professor, I'm not stupid. I'm not giving all my good stuff away to outsiders." He said that, fishing for a small vial from his pocket, identical in shape to the one Grindlewald had shown earlier. The only difference was the contents: instead of icy green, this potion was a warm, glowing amber.
"This is..." Dumbledore hadn't taken it seriously at first, but when Lucifer pulled the stopper, a strange alchemical scent drifted out and he froze, mind and body both reacted with an instinctive tremor.
Seeing his reaction and couldn't hold back his curiosity, Lucifer eaned forward and dropped his voice, "Professor, that's a Phoenix Bloodline Fusion Elixir... I begged Fawkes for several minutes before he agreed to give me some blood. Judging from your face... so the rumors were true? The Dumbledore family really does have phoenix blood?" There was an old saying he heard in the magical world: 'whenever a Dumbledore was truly in need, a phoenix would appear.'
Proof of an unusual bond between the Dumbledore family and those creatures, Lucifer had suspected for a while that he carried phoenix blood. Seeing man's reaction confirmed it.
At this point, Dumbledore didn't bother to hide it, nodded lightly.
Lucifer clicked his tongue in admiration, "I can understand with giants or even goblins, but humans and birds... that I cannot imagine."
"What nonsense are you thinking?!"
Dumbledore looked mortified when he understood what the boy was implying towards, Godric Gryffindor, what goes on his brain?! "An ancestor of the Dumbledore family signed a contract with a phoenix. The power of that pact seeped into the bloodline over generations. It's nothing like what you're imagining."
Kids these days were ridiculous. Too mature, creative and far quick to invent scandals that would tank the Dumbledore 'family' name if allowed to spread.
"Oh, that's all?" He said, sounding disappointed. The juiciest gossip had slipped away, so he couldn't be bothered to linger, Lucifer set the small bottle on the desk.
"Professor, Grindelwald is your lifelong rival. If he hasn't given up, you can't just let yourself fall behind. I'm giving you this potion for free. Consider it payment for helping me stonewall Fudge... Whether you use it or who you give it to is your call."
He didn't wait for Dumbledore to answer, but slipped out immediately, taking the man's bird with him on the way out.
Albus stared blankly at the little bottle on his desk, unsure if he should actually drink it, helping with Fudge in his mind, was already a favour he returned for Lucifer's Auror equipment, and here he was, being given more.
Meanwhile, Grindelwald was equally curious. If his old friend drank that potion, then one day he could proudly announce, 'Dumbledore did it too.' Shaking the whole world, but he knew why Lucifer had given it, Albus's soul was being eaten with his own version from a parallel earth, it would help to co-exist better, and not get swallowed, then one day when he would die by the boy's hand, his soul could be purified.
A new week rolled in, and updated match schedule appeared on the Bulletin Board.
When students learned that Krum had returned to Durmstrang to pick players for a friendly match against Hogwarts, the Quidditch lovers and team members went wild.
They had no idea what level other Durmstrang students were, but Krum himself was Bulgaria's starting Seeker, a World Cup 'favorite' that year. Playing against him was practically a chance to observe a pro up close.
Wood was especially ecstatic. He ditched class entirely to beg Professor McGonagall to let Gryffindor compete. He planned to become a pro athlete after graduation and was already talking to teams.
"Wood, calm down. This match doesn't belong to any single House. We'll be selecting players to form a Hogwarts representative team---"
McGonagall's words stunned him.
"Then how do you expect us to play?"
If he weren't standing in front of her, already be screaming. This was borderline absurd, Quidditch required coordination. Even Seekers sometimes depended on 'fake-outs' from their own team.
Even if they picked the best players for each position, it'd still be a mess with no chemistry. How were they supposed to beat anyone like that?
"Wood, no single House represents the school. This is Durmstrang versus Hogwarts. Do you understand?"
Wood nodded, crushed.
"All right, go wait for the announcement. You and Potter will almost certainly make the list. And tell those two troublemakers to put in some effort for once," McGonagall waved him out and immediately started thinking over candidate choices, Lucifer had already declined.
That evening, she gathered the House team captains, and by the next day entire roster was posted.
Keeper: Wood.
Beaters: the Weasley twins.
Chasers: Slytherin's Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington, plus Ravenclaw's Roger Davies.
As for Seeker, McGonagall struggled between Cedric and Harry, and ultimately chose to bring both into training and decide based on who coordinated better with the team.
When the list came out, most students found it fair. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, who didn't have many names on it, agreed she had been impartial. Of course, not everyone took it well.
"What? Why him? Why is Potter on that list?" Draco Malfoy went pale the moment he saw Harry's name, nearly passing out. When he recovered, his eyes were already red with rage.
"Potter had never even caught a Snitch this year! Slytherin has two Cups! Diggory being chosen over me, fine. But if they needed a backup, it should've been me!"
"McGonagall is clearly biased toward her own student. I'm not accepting this!".Pansy Parkinson immediately backed him up. The two tall goons beside started trash-talking Harry as well, just in time for the said boy and Ron to walk into the Great Hall and catch every word.
"At least Harry didn't buy his way onto the team riding six Nimbus 2001s. Even if they picked a hundred Seekers, you still wouldn't make the list, Mal-dung...."
Malfoy exploded at Ron's sneer which was eerily familiar, Lucifer got to enjoy the brawl while having an extra two plates of scrambled eggs, stuffed with jeely by Hermione.
Once the Heads of Houses dragged the fighters away, he finally looked back at Darcy at the Gryffindor table, "What were you saying?"
She had been distracted by the commotion too. When he asked again, the girl blanked out for a second before remembering, then lowered her voice excitedly.
"Madame Maxime told me the Tri-"
"Shh." Lucifer raised a finger for silence, "I trust you. Go prepare properly, this year's going to be a lot livelier than usual."
Darcy nodded rapidly, then leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Wait for me tonight. I want you to teach me more how to give better heads?~"
xxxxxx
Finally, the seventh-year matches began. Everyone agreed this group had the highest level. These were students on verge of graduation, the strongest each school had to offer.
The reality matched the hype. The seventh-year battles were far more intense than anything before, tinged with a real sense of lethal intent.
Nonverbal spells were breaking the air. Every Duelists had their signature moves, their footwork and combat experience were solid too.
The Professors nodded frequently, relieved their students weren't embarrassing the school. And today... Slytherin stands were a constant roar, especially from Draco's roommate, Nott, who was shouting so hard his voice was breaking.
Because the Hogwarts representative was his cousin, Marcel Nott.
Lucifer and Marcel got along well too. Back in first year when he beat down Eustace Burke, Marcel had shown up the next day to make friendly overtures. After that, whenever something came up, the guy never hesitated. And with his malicious sense, it was easy to tell who was sincere and who was "fake."
Before the match, he even handed Marcel two improved Dark Spells as a reward. A boss couldn't rely only on sticks; you needed candy too if you wanted your people motivated.
Boom. Bang. Whish...!
Marcel's opponent, Beauxbaton's representative, saw him chanting under his breath and immediately ramped his vigilance to the max.
Trying to interrupt the spell with fast casts, but Marcel was ready for that. A reinforced 'Shield Charm' burst out from him, magic vibrating in the air.
The opponent panicked and tossed several spells in a row, then suddenly clutched his chest as if an invisible fist had squeezed his heart. He yelped and collapsed, twitching and writhing in agony.
The abrupt reversal left the crowd stunned. Beauxbatons's students were still shouting encouragement, not realizing their upperclassman was already down. A few judges rushed over, and Madam Maxime hurried onto the field.
Grindelwald went over, tapped the kid's chest with his wand, and soon enough the convulsions faded. The student still looked miserable though, curled up and struggling to breathe.
"It's just a black magic spell that messes with the heart, nothing to panic over. He'll be fine after a good sleep...." Coming from him, the head of black magic, that was reassuring enough. The Headmistress exhaled in relief, though she shot a wary glance at Marcel, who hadn't reacted at all.
Black magic that targeted the heart was nasty stuff. A little more power and it would have burst the organ, which would be murder. But the rules allowed black magic, and there were no severe injuries, so even if she was angry, she had no place to vent it.
Instead, Dumbledore chose to reprimand Marcel gently, "Mr. Nott, this is a tournament. I trust your control, and that you won't cross the line. But, of this intensity should not be used again for the remainder..."
Marcel nodded politely and agreed immediately. Grindelwald flicked a glance up at the stands, toward the boy warming Astoria's hands, and that Muggle-born girl who had hugged up his waist using her arms.
No one else would come up with black magic in that style except Lucifer. And that kid was currently researching a new spell.
Grindelwald suspected it was even more vicious than the "Heart curse." After a brief pause to handle the wounded student, Beauxbatons was forced to forfeit two more matches due to medical reasons, Madam Maxime was grinding her teeth and swore to reclaim their dignity next year.
The 'final' match became Marcel versus Castelobruxo's representative: Duola Tiago.
Castelobruxo had been unimpressive all tournament. Not the weakest, not the strongest. Their students were steady, picked up a win here and there, but never enough to advance.
Everyone expected Marcel to wrap things up quickly. Then something unexpected happened.
The moment the match started, Tiago roared like a beast and transformed into a massive, muscle-packed brown bear. He slammed a paw down and the ground trembled.
The sight rattled Marcel, who didn't react until the bear was within five meters, then he frantically threw up silent barrier charms to block the charge.
It barely helped. Magic resistance wasn't the same for humans and bears. A barrier that could trip a wizard might as well be glass to a charging bear. Each wall he conjured shattered on impact.
Realizing he couldn't stop it, Marcel bolted. One wrong step and he'd be face-planted by a paw the size of a pot lid. It looked ridiculous. Not like a wizard duel at all, more like someone had 'fallen' into a zoo enclosure by mistake. Only then did many spectators remember Castelobruxo's unique specialty: Druid Beastform.
"Wait, that's not right!"
A student suddenly recalled something, "Professor Isabella told us Druid Beastform needs potion support. Isn't that against the rules?"
Hermione answered quickly, to a 'first' year Slytherin girl, she was actually plonked on their stands behind Lucifer, buried her face into his neck, and inhaling, "According to the competition rules, any potion brewed by the competitor themselves is allowed. So, Tiago didn't break."
Far from disappointed, Gryffindors on the opposite side actually looked pleased. Marcel was a Slytherin, if he won, Slytherin would get insufferable. Losing was almost preferable.
Despite the brown bear's bulky build, it wasn't slow at all. Combined with a human brain, it made for a seriously hard opponent. In the end, Marcel couldn't do much to the bear at all.
He got pinned with a paw and lay there like a helpless kid, which drew plenty of laughter from the stands. After Dumbledore announced the result, Tiago finally shifted back to human form. He was only slightly winded, and he even offered Marcel a hand up.
Professor Isabella, leading Castelobruxo's team, finally smiled. Who cared if the earlier years performed poorly? As long as the seventh-year champion was theirs, she was satisfied.
Druid Beastform required high-level Transfiguration and Potions skill, which meant younger students couldn't learn it yet. It only became a real trump card in the upper years or after graduation.
Daphne blinked her big eyes, looking envious, "Lucifer, turning into animals actually looks really fun. Do you think I could learn Animagus? If I learn it, what animal would I turn into? Can you help me?"
Astoria quietly rolled her eyes.
Lucifer, however, suddenly remembered that he'd made a deal with Isabella, not only had the formula, he even had ingredients now, but was just been swamped with other things and forgotten about it.
"Sure, it's just transformation. Wait for good news..."
After that day, nobody underestimated Castelobruxo anymore. People even started betting on Tiago as a championship favorite.
Thinking back to Professor Isabella's lecture on Druid Beastform, if Tiago could turn into a brown bear today, who knew if he'd be an eagle tomorrow. How were you even supposed to fight that?
Sixth-years were already hunting down professors, asking how to counter Druid transformations.
xxxxxx
Two days later, Lucifer fulfilled Daphne's wish. And his own.
"Oooh~!"
A snow-white fox lay curled in his arms, eyes closed, enjoying his practiced, gentle stroking. The other girls stood around, staring wide-eyed at the little fox. Astoria reached out to touch it, only for the fox to bare its teeth and snap at her fingers.
The little witch pouted, "Sister, let me pet you too!"
Yes, the fox in Lucifer's protective hold was Daphne. Druid Beastform wasn't that fast, of course, so she took the potion and he assisted with the transformation. Technically you could shape-shift without potions, but it damaged the body.
"....."
His group of witches here also wanted to pet the fox, but if she wouldn't even let her own sister near her, the girls wisely backed off. After about half an hour of playing, Daphne had enough and signaled him to change her back.
Once she was human again, she decided she really liked the whole experience and clung to Lucifer, begging him to teach her Castelobruxo's transformation technique. The other girls piled on, wanting to try too. In no time his room looked like a zoo.
Red squirrel (Ginny), Osprey (Susan), Magpie (Tracey), Swan (Astoria), Snow Leopard (Darcy), Panda (Hannah), British Shorthair (Hermione), appeared one after another.
It wasn't until deep into the night that the girls reluctantly dispersed, each carrying a copied set of Druid Beastform notes back to their dorm. Even Luna, who never asked for anything, requested a copy. According to her, becoming an animal would help her better understand such thoughts, which might lead her to the elusive "Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
Lucifer was stunned, he didn't get it, but he respected. The Snorkack was a dream Mr. Lovegood had woven for Luna, when they exchanged a few short words on WhatsApp: find the Snorkack, and you'll see your mother again. Anyone normal would call it an absurd lie, but she believed it wholeheartedly, and thought creature would her to the doors of Silver City.
....He didn't want to break that dream. If Luna grew up and understood someday, she would let it go on her own, and wait to ascend naturally to Heaven for reunion, unless he used that favor he had done for Amenadiel, and take the girl upstairs. If not, having a 'lifelong quest' wasn't the worst thing.
What he could do best was tell her to pray, their eldest sibling would listen.
Two days later, Vinda arrived at Hogwarts with Durmstrang's newly selected Quidditch team.
They were all muscle-bound giants.
Viktor Krum, who was one meter eighty and built like a tank, looked almost delicate next to them.
The moment Wood saw, his face turned grim. These guys made their beefiest players look small. If nothing else, their Beaters would have terrifying hitting power. As Keeper, he was in for misery.
That same day he called for extra practice and finalized the Seeker decision: Harry Potter. Aside from Slytherin muttering among themselves, even Cedric didn't object.
Their 'flying' skill was similar, but Harry had better instincts and a lighter build, which meant he usually spotted the Snitch first. Cedric congratulated him calmly, then rushed back to the castle to prepare for the final duel competition.
When Ron heard Harry beat Cedric, he got even more excited than 'the Boy Who Lived', dancing around their dorm, Hermione was so irritated she wanted to use 'Jelly legs Curse' on him, but thought better off, and went to the Room of Debauchery.
"That's brilliant, Harry! I knew you were the strongest. Cedric was never on your level!"
"Don't say that, Ron," Harry said, embarrassed as he returned from practice, "Cedric is great. I just had a better broom. He's not 'fully' in sync with his new Firebolt yet."
Ron ignored all of that, assuming Harry was just being humble.
In his eyes, Cedric was the perfect student: top grades, athletic, popular, admired by every Hufflepuff. He was the kind of person Harry wanted to become. What? Why wasn't Lucifer his goal? Harry wanted to be a better person, not a monster.
Lucifer was on a whole different level, Hogwarts had never seen someone like him. Still, becoming a starting Seeker over Cedric lit Harry up inside. He lay on his bed, almost asleep, when his owl suddenly shook violently, jolting him awake.
It was a long string of warm congratulations from Malfoy.
Harry snapped too, grabbed his quill and shot back a reply. Relying on the tragic orphan advantage, he verbally overwhelmed Draco Malfoy into submission, then finally lay back down, satisfied. But now he couldn't sleep, tossed and turned until dawn before dozing off for a moment.
........
"The match is this Sunday. Is that thing you've been tinkering with ready?" Grindelwald asked as he watched Lucifer setting up Saint Jeanne a bowl of porridge.
"Yeah, it's basically calibrated," Lucifer answered after taking a sip of his own oatmeal, "Tonight, have Vinda send the devices to Berlin. Make sure each Arkham Asylum Guild has one at the entrance. Any extras can go in prime spots on the main commercial street..."

She hissed, putting her spoon down, a trail of golden liquid escaped from the corner of her red lips, "This is too hot, I forgot to cool it. I.. I'm sorry! I will lick it from the ground..."
"It's fine, just be careful next time."
Grindelwald's mouth twitched, he couldn't stand to watch the shameless piggy girl drinking her Lord's urine anymore, being shy to boot.
xxxxxx
Taking Lucifer's instructions, he went off to 'find' Vinda Rosier. Before long, all eighteen Wizard's Guild branches had a mirror hanging above their entrance, drawing curious crowds.
"Burke what's that thing supposed to be?" A bearded middle-aged wizard grabbed Eustace as he stepped through the door.
They'd met once during a job to collect potion ingredients. Ever since Burke became Guild Master, he'd discovered that Banfield' Maids could solve practically every problem. So he completely let himself go: if he wasn't out on missions, he was at the new tavern listening to mercenaries brag.
The new tavern was in Knockturn Alley, part of Lucifer's business empire. Cleaner than Leaky Cauldron, bigger than Tom's space, better food more expensive, and.... 'sexy women!'
Even though prices were nearly double, Wizards loved grabbing a drink there for the cozy atmosphere, tastier drinks, and the 'fat' bonuses from 'finished' jobs, gazing at Maids' attire, it cooled their hearts. Plus there were always new commissions posted, so it was the unofficial team-up hall.
"Oh, Marcus," Burke squinted up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight bouncing off the sleek mirror, "I just got a message from Lucifer too. I'm as clueless as you are. Ask Kunagi when she comes out."
"Did I hear my name just now...?"
While they spoke, Mina stepped outside, doing a familiar gesture, hands folded lightly over her abdomen, polite nods to everyone around before she began her introduction, "
"This is Mr. Morningstar's latest creation, 'Lumine-Lens.' It's an alchemical device that can broadcast real-time events and store video."
She featured long, dark hair which was tied up into two distinct hair buns, giving her modest housewife design, wearing a custom dark green colored long-sleeve skirt, matching her eyes, "This weekend, Hogwarts will have a Quidditch match with Durmstrang. At that time, you will be able to experience the Lumine-Lens effects yourselves..."
"Kunagi, you mean we'll be able to see the match here?" A wizard asked with interest. Technically the Wizarding world had broadcast tools, but they were rarely used and stuck to fixed camera points, which made it pretty useless for something like Quidditch.
"Yes, Mr. Pierce," She answered, having already pulled up the man's information, "Both audio and visuals can be transmitted in real time."
Pierce lit up, "Then I'll definitely watch. Back in the day I was Ravenclaw's keeper. Only got to play one match though."
A witch teased him from the crowd, "Pierce, you were my senior and I remember that perfectly. Not many keepers can manage to let in twenty goals in thirty minutes...."
The crowd burst into laughter. Pierce gave an embarrassed chuckle. He hadn't expected an old classmate to be present to expose that bit of black history. Soon the crowd dispersed. Many quietly jotted down the match time, planning to come and see for themselves.
They were curious about "Lumine Lens", but also excited for the nostalgia. It had been ages since they'd watched a school match and it brought back memories of their student days.
The same scene played out at guild branches in other countries. No matter where you went, people loved new gadgets, Lucifer wasn't just planning to broadcast this friendly match. He wanted to livestream the 'final tournament' too, expanding the Lumine-Lens's influence.
And just like that, weekend morning arrived, Crowds gathered at the guild entrances, even people who had no idea what was going on came over. After a quick explanation from the enthusiastic bystanders, they waited with anticipation.
Buzz!
At exactly ten, the Lumine-Lens shivered gently, then lit up white. A bird's eye view of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch appeared on the mirror surface, rapidly zooming down and rotating.
In yesterday's sixth-year match, Darcy Valentine crushed the competition and claimed the 'final' spot in Dueling championship. It was only then everyone realized just how terrifyingly strong the breathtaking girl from Beauxbatons really was.
Against the other contestants, she didn't even have to move her feet. The only thing that made her cautious was Krum's strange black mist and Dark Magic. And to be safe, she backed off a little, then casually set the entire field on fire.
Luckily, Grindelwald fished him out of the sea of flames just in time. After all, power of that fire magic was impossible to ignore.
Even now, blackened scorch marks streaked the arena. Thankfully, Quidditch didn't depend on the grass, so it didn't affect today's game.
Krum's face, however, was just as dark as it had been yesterday. Before yesterday's match, he'd sworn up and down to Grindelwald that he would take the championship, prove himself, and defend Durmstrang's honor.
But now? He hadn't even made it to the finals and had nearly been burned alive by that woman.
Grindelwald hadn't said a word, but that cold, indifferent look, the kind you give a piece of trash with no remaining value, was burned into Viktor Krum's memory. They were enemies, sure, but being looked down on... hurt even more.
Today's match was his last chance to prove himself. No matter what, he had to help Durmstrang win one back from Hogwarts. He was determined to win this Quidditch game.
The referee for this match wasn't Madam Hooch, but Ludo Bagman, invited over from the Ministry by Crouch. Normally, he wouldn't bother with a bunch of schoolkids roughhousing in the air. But when he heard that star player Krum would be competing, and that match would be broadcast live across more than a dozen countries, agreed on the spot.
'Tweet!'
With the shrill blast of Bagman's whistle, match began. Hogwarts seized the Quaffle first and launched the opening attack.
"He's surprisingly nimble for a fat guy," Someone muttered.
"Ohhh! He is Ludovic Bagman, the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."
"The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them, y'know. And he even played with the English National Quidditch team."
"Wow~"
Bagman darted smoothly between players on both teams, never once interfering with play, drawing plenty of admiration from the younger witches and wizards. Amid thunderous cheers, Roger Davies tricked the keeper and sent Quaffle cleanly through the far---left hoop!'
Durmstrang's players didn't react at all. They advanced steadily, and Wood's worries quickly proved justified. The Weasley twins worked in perfect sync as Beaters.
But Durmstrang's Beaters, though, embodied one word: brutal. When a bat collided with a Bludger, both bent and twisted from the impact. The Bludger hurtled toward Adrian Pucey with terrifying force.
---He pressed himself flat against his broom just in time, but the screaming wind left him too shaken to straighten up for several seconds. A collective gasp rose from the stands.
From there, Durmstrang leaned hard into physical advantage, constantly looking for body checks. And so the score gap widened fast.
Harry saw it happening and felt his anxiety spike, but Krum had him completely suppressed. He buzzed around the pitch like a headless fly.
The psychological pressure Krum put on him was overwhelming. The man was nothing but feints, darting and diving all over the field.
Inside the castle, in the Headmaster's office, Lucifer watched the match through a Lumine-Lens alongside Dumbledore and Grindelwald, nodding occasionally. He wasn't actually paying attention to the game. What satisfied him was the broadcast quality: crisp, no lag, adjustable angles, smart tracking.
"Professor, I'm planning to livestream the finals next weekend too. You don't mind, right?"
"There's no need to ask me about such trivial matters."
What Dumbledore meant: even if I did mind, you wouldn't listen.
"I want two hundred Lumine-Lens," Grindelwald suddenly said, admiring the video playing so smoothly, and couldn't help but marvel, "A lot of people enjoy my speeches and want to hear my views on the current state of the Wizarding world. I plan to place a few in every major wizard gathering spot... It'll save everyone from having to travel all the way to Berlin or Munich."
Dumbledore felt a headache coming on. He really wanted to urge Grindelwald to show some restraint, but it was obvious this was yet another man who didn't take advice.
"Cash first, goods later," Lucifer replied without looking back, adjusting the viewing angle, "Fastest I can manage is summer. I'm taking over the British market first, then I'll think about expanding...Professor," he added casually, "who owns 'Wizard's Voice and the Daily Prophet?' Introduce me sometime, will you?"
That, after all, was the real reason he'd come to see Dumbledore today. The Wizarding world did have magical radios. They were one of the few electronic devices allowed to be magically modified, and almost every household owned one. The range of programs was surprisingly broad, from straight news broadcasts to gossip shows and even beauty tips for witches.
"In that area," Dumbledore said, finally looking away from the screen, "Professor Flitwick will bring you some pleasant surprises." There was a gentle, instructive tone to his voice, "Ravenclaw graduates hold key positions in many fields, Innovation is important, but I hope you'll also take their feelings into account. For most people, they don't want much. A stable... job and life matter more than anything. Even if your alchemy can solve many problems, I still hope you'll be mindful of how they feel."
"I understand," he replied with a nod, picking up what the old man didn't express openly, "Don't worry. I'm not the type to hoard everything for myself, and I'm definitely not some bloodsucking capitalist."
The arrival of the "Lumine-Lens" was bound to hit traditional wireless industry hard. A lot of people made their living off that system. If he filled every position with another batch of 'Banfield Maids, massive layoffs were inevitable. That was why Dumbledore had warned him, to leave those people a way out.
And sharing a portion of the profits so most people could live and work in peace suited Lucifer just fine. After all, if no one had money, how was he supposed to keep earning it back through an endless stream of new products? A sudden groan rose from the Lumine-Lens.
He looked up to see Krum grinning as he held his right hand high, the Golden Snitch fluttering wildly in his grasp like a captured weapon. Nearby, Harry slumped in defeat. The contrast couldn't have been clearer.
It was obvious. Durmstrang had won.
"Looks like I really should add a recording function..."
That evening, Lucifer showed up at Professor Flitwick's office carrying two ancient tomes. The diminutive professor adored books, especially pre-medieval spell texts, his gift hit the mark perfectly, and after hearing his request, Head of RavenClaw happily handed over the contact information for several students.
"Mr. Morningstar, your ideas never seem to run dry," Flitwick said with a smile, "I imagine it won't be long before my office is full of all kinds of strange and wonderful live broadcasts."
Lucifer corrected him. "They're not my ideas. They're Muggle's, it's called television. Sigh~ It's already in most homes, Professor. They have live broadcasts and all sorts of bizarre programs." Unfortunately, Hogwarts rejected all electronic devices. Otherwise, he would have dragged a couple of TVs into the Gryffindor common room ages ago.
Flitwick sighed after listening, "No magic, yet their world sounds more exciting... Trains, wireless radio, even many desserts were originally inspired by Muggles."
Yep, the boy agreed completely. If you stripped away magic, wizards compared to Muggles looked like primitives. That went double for the pure-blood aristocrats hoarding massive resources while having no idea how to actually enjoy life, spending every day at endless banquets.
That was also why he'd decided to bring television to the Wizarding world first. He wanted better entertainment, and a 'future' that wouldn't be so painfully dull, if he was staying here for a while.
Lucifer genuinely looked forward to the day when Wizarding films, movies, novels, manga and anime became a thing, this earth's timeline was too backward for him.
After leaving the office, he passed plenty of lifeless students. Today's match had been a crushing defeat. Hogwarts had already fallen far behind before Krum caught the Snitch, and every player was covered in bruises by the end.
Right now, only ones in high spirits in the Castle, aside from the Durmstrang students, were Draco Malfoy and his little circle. Suddenly, a conversation drifted into Lucifer's ears.
"Did you hear? That Slytherin Malfoy went to Gryffindor common room entrance to mock Potter. He and those two big idiots got united, were beaten black and blue."
"I really don't get him. Did he think Potter and the rest were in a bad enough mood already and wanted to offer himself up as a stress outlet?"
It made Lucifer feel silent, honestly couldn't tell whether Draco was genuinely that stupid, or if he just lost all brain function whenever Harry Potter was involved. 'Or maybe, just like those students guessed, he'd done it to cheer the boy up?'
A chill ran down his spine, Draco's sensibilities were truly terrifying, Lucifer felt so disgusted he didn't even want to go back to Gryffindor common room. Might as well visit Azkaban instead to see what graves looked like there.
Once the thought crossed his mind, he
acted immediately, sent Hermione a message telling her not to wait up for him tonight, nudged Grindelwald to go out and make an appearance in front of Dumbledore so suspicion wouldn't land on his own head, then quietly slipped out of the castle and vanished into the night.
As a well-behaved kid, he really shouldn't have known where Azkaban was. But unfortunately, Pettigrew wasn't exactly what you'd call responsible. Back when he'd intercepted him, that rat had casually let Azkaban's location slip.
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Lucifer had never actually been there before, though, so he could only 'Shadow Traversing'' to the nearest island which could support Ainz's Teleportation spell, and then take his time flying the rest of the way.
Out of pure curiosity, he decided to try Druidic shapeshifting along the way. And this time, he picked... a phoenix. Turning into a magical creature was notoriously difficult, Only true masters of could manage it.
Back then, Isabella had even asked him for Basilisk flesh and blood, an important ingredient for brewing certain potions, Lucifer didn't need any of that. He didn't require phoenix blood or flesh as a catalyst, because he was essentially------- born from the literal union of God and Goddess,
their kinky coupling caused the 'Big Bang', which birthed the physical universe, energy, and light itself.
He was given the specific moniker 'The Light-Bringer' by his parents. This wasn't because he was made of a special type of light, but rather because of his raw power, his role as one of the brightest Archangels, and his duty to bring light into existence.
Lucifer's specific individual power was associated with ignition and pure energy. This was why his personal coin/relic was the "Pentecostal Cost" and why he was the only being capable of igniting the 'Flaming Sword' (a weapon capable of cutting through the fabric of reality itself) by using his inner light.
So, all he needed was a potion to protect body from erosion and keep his mind stable. The transformation went smoothly. Before long, a graceful golden-red bird appeared in the night sky above the North Sea.
Fawkes was roughly swan-sized, but the phoenix, Lucifer had become was nearly twice that. Its wingspan stretched close to two meters, and the two looked very different.
Besides Fawkes was crimson all over, with only hints of gold in his tail feathers and at the tips of wings, shaped like flames. Lucifer's phoenix form was the reverse. Most of his plumage gleamed gold, while edges flowed with fiery red.
Using the sea's surface as a mirror, he admired his own magnificent figure and let out a satisfied cry, looked way better than Fawkes, 'Cooler too...'
Caught up in the fun, Lucifer completely forgot why he'd come out here in the first place. His flight path turned erratic, and every so often he'd burst into a flare of fire, only to reappear hundreds of nautical miles away.
He discovered that once he became a phoenix, he couldn't cast spells anymore. Phoenix abilities, however, were fair game. Setting things on fire, teleporting, even forming raw magical energy into magic cannons all worked just fine. He had no idea whether other people experienced the same thing when turning into phoenixes, but then again, aside from him, no one in this world really had a chance to become one.
If a phoenix didn't want to give up its flesh or blood, no one could take it. They could swallow the Killing Curse and be reborn. Why would they fear anything else?
xxxxxxx
It wasn't until well past midnight that Lucifer finally had his fill of fooling around. By then, he'd unknowingly flown all the way to somewhere near the Arctic. With no choice, he reverted to human form and headed back.
Last semester, he had cleared out the Dementors with his Patronus, drastically reducing their numbers. After six months of recovery, they gradually started to creep back.
The way Dementors reproduced was pretty strange. As long as they absorbed enough emotions, they could split and form new. Each one, however, had a limited number of times it could divide in its lifetime.
Whether that was mitosis or something else, Lucifer had no idea, he wasn't interested in studying Dementors anyway. He simply picked out two stragglers, scooped them up with the giant tail of his Patronus, and instantly dumped them into the Dungeon of Tempest.
There, he bombarded them with overwhelming positive force, grinding down their forms until both Dementors lost consciousness.
Only then did he relax, the entire process was done with extreme caution. He didn't want to make any noise and draw attention of the others.
To a Dementor, the scent of a Patronus was about as appealing as sewage. One careless move and they'd smell it instantly. Knocking them out right away was also a precaution, in case Dementors had some kind of distress signal he didn't know about.
Once that was finished, Lucifer headed for the most remote hill on the island. This was where prisoners were buried after death. Crooked markers were stuck into the ground, identifying who each set of remains had once been.
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