After making up a few pen marks, then, at top speed, Lucifer practically fled Azkaban's island. Two consecutive Shadows later, he was back at Hogwarts. Over the next few days, disappearance of the Dementors caused no stir at all.
In fact, some creatures even had gone to the Ministry to complain the very next day. The 'Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' didn't take it seriously. People went missing sometimes, so why not creatures? Maybe Azkaban hadn't been feeding them enough and they'd wandered off to hunt, perfectly normal.
They figured there was no need to involve the 'Improper Use of Magic Office' or Aurors unless wizards started filing reports or strange incidents cropped up in the Muggle world. Since no one came investigating, Lucifer didn't bother worrying about it either. Orders had started piling in, all from people who'd seen the potential of the Lumine-Lens.
Quidditch clubs in particular were eager, even sending representatives to the school to negotiate in person. He turned them all away. 'Talk next week. This belonged to my Valentine.'
"I'm leaving soon. Shouldn't you be spending proper time with me?"
When the half-Veela clung to his arm, eyes red and voice on the verge of tears, Lucifer knew there was no way he could refuse. So, for the next few days after classes, he and Darcy were inseparable. Even nights were spent in the 'Room of Debauchery' together.
Once again, it proved how convenient it was to make his bedside guarded, for his Gryffindor roommates, he had created a perfect illusion of being ladi asleep on, and with a few 'Stuns', he was done with preparations.
It made him envy Slytherin, who has Severus Snape as their Head. As long as you didn't lose points or embarrass the house, he couldn't care less what you were doing.
And unexpectedly, Hermione and Daphne didn't make a 'fuss', knew Valentine harpy would be leaving Hogwarts soon. So these days were just the lady's charity. After that, Lucifer would be all theirs.
Whether girls'd regret being so generous once learning Darcy would be back next term, and for even longer, was another question entirely.
"If the Hogwarts students found out I've been helping you with special training, they'd curse me behind my back for sure..."
That night, the older girl lay naked, sprawled over Lucifer like an octopus. They'd just 'finished' training, and she felt like her body was about to fall apart. This man had no concept of mercy, every thrust inside he made pushed right up against her vagina's limits, 'forcing' her to stay fully focused the entire time.
Half-asleep, she finally drifted off.
Lucifer gently draped the blanket over her and closed his eyes, hugging her as his consciousness slipped into the Dream World, to meet Morpheus.
xxxxxx
The Hog's Head Inn,
Aberforth was muttering curses while wiping tables with a rag that was somehow dirtier than floor. Spring had already come and Hogsmeade's weather was absurdly pleasant, yet business as miserable as ever, and he was starting to question whether it was worth staying open at all.
The culprit? Lucifer. Or more precisely, his Asylum something Guild.
The Hog's Head had never thrived on its booze or its charming atmosphere, which was on par with a back-alley dumpster. Its draw was always that it offered a place for wizards who lived in the grey or downright black-parts of society to meet and trade.
But now, eighty percent of that crowd had moved to the Guild. Many of those once-shady trades had become officially sanctioned, with Asylum' guarantees making transactions safer than back-room deals. Naturally, people stopped coming here.
The ones who still did either had questionable identities or wanted to do things that crossed the Guild's bottom line. They were all dangerous types, so Aberforth had to stay constantly wary in case he got dragged into something catastrophic.
It was six in the evening, dinnertime and the bar had only a handful of wizards spread across two tables, each concealed under cloaks and whispering through privacy charms.
'Creak--'
The battered wooden door was shoved open hard enough to make it groan in pain. Several guests instinctively turned toward the entrance. One look and their faces changed.
"Gr-Grindelwald!"
Aberforth snapped his head up at the shout. Sure enough, there he was white hair, smug posture-standing in the doorway like he owned the place, scanning the filthy bar with open disdain.
"People actually live in dumps like this?" He originally wanted to sneer something about whether humans really ate here, but then remembered Lucifer visited 'fairly' often. To avoid getting on the bad side of a very petty person, he toned it down at the last second.
Even so, that one casual line made Aberforth explode.
"What the hell are you doing here! We don't welcome power-hungry maniacs. Get out!"
The customers stared at Aberforth like he'd grown a second head. Was the man suicidal? That was Grindelwald, the dark wizard who once held off hundreds of Aurors by himself!
"So many years later, and your mouth still stinks just as bad."
Grindelwald didn't get angry, just glanced at the customers still frozen in their seats. "Do I need to ask you to leave?"
'Clatter!'
In a flurry of chairs and limbs, they scrambled for windows, too terrified to use the door. They smashed plates and cups on their way out, and were gone within seconds.
Aberforth's expression darkened.Those bastards broke his dishes, didn't pay, and fled.
He glared at Grindelwald, who had casually found himself a seat and looked perfectly at home. Rage burned brighter in Aberforth's eyes, but he didn't make a move. He was short-tempered, not stupid.
His brother wasn't here, and if things turned violent, he'd be the one to die he wanted Grindelwald dead, but the feeling was mutual.
If Aberforth weren't a Dumbledore, Grindelwald would've killed him many times over by now, "What do you want," he finally spat.
"Just visiting an old friend. Doesn't matter if I'm welcome."
Lazily producing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, Grindelwald poured, the liquor chilled itself to the perfect temperature, a glass drifted toward Aberforth in midair.
"What's wrong, scared to drink? You think I need cheap tricks for someone like you?"
Aberforth snorted, grabbed the glass, and downed it. Meanwhile, his other hand was busy under the bar, sending a distress message to Dumbledore.
Grindelwald had already watched the entire thing, amused. 'Keep waiting, your brother's busy discussing next year's tournament with the visiting professors. He won't be coming....'
Dumbledore had relaxed over the years, lulled by Grindelwald's lack of trouble-making. He would never expect a sudden assault on Aberforth.
"So you came all the way here just to buy me a drink?"
"Of course not." Grindelwald smiled faintly, "I wasn't invited, and one drink is my apology for barging in. You think you're someone I'd treat to a nice drink?"
"If you know you're not welcome, then get out," Aberforth snapped, anger sharpening his voice. "You disgust me. Whatever you want, go bother him instead!"
"More than a century has passed and you still haven't grown at all," Frowning, he made a crude remark which caused lines to become visible on Aberforth, "When faced with someone you can't beat, I don't need you to grovel, but you could at least show basic respect."
Aberforth directly barked a laugh. "If you've got the guts, kill me. You want my respect? Fine, kill yourself right now and I'll praise you ten times."
Inhaling slowly, Grindelwald practiced Occlumency to calm himself down, If Aberforth weren't Albus' brother, if he weren't Ariana's, he sighed loudly. The silver links of the blood pact silently twined around his hand, pressure and sting against the skin was dampening his killing intent.
What a nuisance.
That was why he was still talking instead of simply striking. Because of the pact's restraints, he couldn't attack first. He had to provoke Aberforth into making the first move.
With anyone else, goading them into attacking a Dark Lord would be nearly impossible. But Aberforth, was not a problem.
"Aberforth, you know, when I was young, I had a question."
Grindelwald refilled his glass, not caring about the bar owner's reaction, "I wondered if you were really a Dumbledore. I even had people thoroughly investigate your parents just to see if you were adopted. Lacking Albus' brilliance is one thing, but you don't even have a tenth of his mind. You're hot-tempered, volatile, and think everything revolves around you. Compared to Ariana, a girl barely fourteen, you were the childish one."
"You dare mention Ariana!"
"Shut up and let me finish," That cold stare froze Aberforth's rage in place, "It wasn't until your son, Credence, appeared that I 'finally' confirmed you were indeed a Dumbledore. He has more talent than you, yet he's even dumber."
"Are you bragging?" Aberforth's voice was icy, no longer shouting, "You killed my sister, then you set your sights on my son. You turned the Dumbledores upside down. And what did you get out of it? Locked in Nurmengard by my brother's own hand... Now you crawl out again like a clown breaking his own vows, desperate to feel relevant. You've never understood reality."
That did it, broke his patience, Grindelwald moved like a ghost, past moment he was sitting, the next he was right in front of Aberforth. The old man tried to raise wand, but the Dark Lord slammed his arm down.
"Do you really not know whose spell hit Ariana? You've just been running from it. I deflected Albus' curse, and you tried to take a cheap shot. Instead, you ran straight into the spell I'd knocked aside. The blast from both spells killed Ariana. Tell me I'm wrong."
Aberforth was trembling violently, lips moving, but no words came. The Devil's whisper pressed on.
"And Credence? If you hadn't abandoned his mother, how would an Obscurial have ever formed? If I hadn't brought him back from North America, you'd have died never knowing you had a son."
"Aberforth, the tragic fate of the Dumbledores was crafted by your own hand...."
"AAAAAAHHH-GRINDELWALD!"
xxxxxxx
Once Aberforth finally lashed out, his fate was sealed. He was strong, no doubt, but Grindelwald wasn't playing around this time.
The moment Hog's Head tore free and grabbed for his wand, Grindelwald stepped back and the room rippled like water. The air thickened in an instant, its density multiplying until every movement felt like fighting through sludge.
Aberforth felt like he'd been dumped into a vat of wet concrete. Lifting his arm, even breathing, became a struggle.
"In the past, I showed mercy. Mostly for your brother's sake," Grindelwald said, wand-tip pressed against Aberforth's brow.
"Maybe partly for Ariana's. But I've always hated you. Only Scamander annoys me more, I lost track of how many times you two wrecked my plans. But Scamander's learned his lesson. You haven't. You're still the same idiot, bouncing around in front of me like you're bulletproof. You think I don't hear how you talk about me?" Grindelwald's jaw tightened as he remembered Lucifer deliberately baiting Aberforth into ranting about him, he hadn't forgotten. 'Can't lay a hand on the Devil, so I'll deal with you instead.'
A brilliant flash burst from Aberforth's wand point. Violent magic surged like a tidal wave, blasting him out of the Hog's Head and breaking the binding on his body.
Not hesitating, he prepared to Apparate on the spot, but Grindelwald was already there, shadowing him. A whip of condensed magic cracked across Aberforth's back.
White-hot pain cut through him, interrupting the spell. Strange magic flooded his body, leaving him limp and useless, like someone had hit him with a "Boneless Spell."
But Aberforth bit down and refused to scream. Grindelwald struck him several more times. Blood sprayed and spattered through the air, and he calmly even collected some of it for Trophy.
A 'few' locals rushed over to see what was happening. The moment they saw Grindelwald whipping Aberforth, they screamed and bolted. Anyone with a survival instinct knew better than to interfere with the Dark Lord. Britain didn't have many wizards reckless enough to try.
"Don't worry. I'm not killing you," Grindelwald said, voice almost casual, "When you recover, I'll come back. The Dumbledores have no future, Aberforth, you and your brother better live a little longer."
Then, left after throwing out that parting threat. And he had to go quickly, so Lucifer could pour and bind Albus's soul with a barrier.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore's meeting had just ended. The Durmstrang representative was Vinda Rosier, and Albus didn't find that strange, he knew Grindelwald hated trivial administrative work.
Back in his office, he froze. Aberforth had sent a distress alert? His expression hardened, and rushed toward Hogsmeade without another thought.
There he found Aberforth sitting outside the Hog's Head, soaked in blood, staring up at the sky with hollow eyes. He didn't even acknowledge Albus' arrival.
"Aberforth... where is Gel... Grindelwald? How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked, trying to sound calm. One quick glance over the wounds told him they were mostly superficial, and let out a quiet breath.
Turning his head mechanically, his brother's voice was rough, almost gone, "Albus... have I failed at everything in my life? I didn't protect Ariana. I wasn't a father to Credence. I watched him die in my arms."
"Aberforth, it wasn't your fault." Softening his voice, Dumbledore treated him gently, "We did all we could. No life can be perfect from beginning to end, you must learn to look forward."
"Look forward?" Aberforth gave a twisted laugh. "Forward to what? Tell me, Albus. What's ahead? The family line is dead, Grindelwald was right. We have no future. I killed Ariana with my own hands, and made the Dumbledores end of their own line."
Shifting his face, Dumbledore could no longer stay calm, and sat down beside his younger brother, he was at fault too, for not continuing the line, leaving Fawkes alone, whose nest had accompanied his 'family' for generations.
Aberforth's grief soaked self-recrimination jabbed straight into his heart, needle after needle, until it felt like it was punctured beyond repair.
....His goat loving brother had been wrong, yes, but wasn't all of it set in motion by him? If he hadn't let fame and ambition blind him back then, none of the tragedy that followed would have happened.
At the same time, Dumbledore felt a wave of anger flare up. 'Gellert Grindelwald! What the hell is wrong with you? Bored out of your mind so you have to go poke at my brother? He wasn't... that bright to begin with and now you've sent him into a full existential crisis!'
"Aberforth. What exactly did that bastard Grindelwald say to you?" Dumbledore forced his voice gently, despite the simmering rage.
Hearing him call that guy a bastard, Aberforth relaxed a little and repeated the gist of what Grindelwald told him.
Once he finished, Dumbledore looked at him with faint pity. 'Good lord... has your brain really rusted from lack of use? You fell for such an obvious provocation?'
"Aberforth... you honestly believe him?"
"He's got no reason to lie, Albus."
"He's literally lying so you throw the first punch. Did you forget that Grindelwald and I are bound by a blood pact?" Dumbledore said, exhausted.
He had completely forgotten about that tiny little detail, Aberfoth's eyes immediately widened.
"Besides... You remember how chaotic things were that day. By the time we found Ariana... quite some time had already passed. You really think Grindelwald could remember every detail so clearly? We're all equally responsible. The three of us. No difference."
After soothing Aberforth, he stormed back to defend his brother's honor. Grindelwald had already predicted exactly that and slipped away before he arrived. He was still in a weakened state. Purifying his soul had opened a path forward, but his Dark magic's power had dropped sharply. He needed to retrain his will.
Fighting Dumbledore without a Dark magic buff while the man had the 'Elder Wand' was asking to get flattened. Maybe even captured alive, better to hide for a while.
Finding Grindelwald gone only made Dumbledore even angrier. He stopped by Lucifer's place, Gryffindor Common Room to reclaim his phoenix, then took off in pursuit.
In the following days, neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald was seen at the school.
Finally, attack on the Hog's Head hit front pages of every major paper.
Thanks to Lucifer's intervention, the incident was spun as a private feud between Grindelwald and the innkeeper, which went a long way toward calming public panic.
Private feud was great!
As long as no one thought Grindelwald wanted to tear up peace treaty, magical world could tolerate him surprisingly well. People were enjoying peace and had no appetite for war. The only true victim in all of this was Aberforth.
Overnight, the Hog's Head became a tourist attraction. Foreign wizards came by just to gawk, after all, anyone who has a personal vendetta with the Dark Lord and was still alive must be someone impressive.
Aberforth, annoyed out of his mind, simply shut the place down until the fuss blew over. Maybe he'd reopen later, maybe he'd sell it off entirely.
After this mess, a lot of unsavory eyes would be on him. The good old days of brokering information or doing under-the-table trades were gone.
Though not everyone was banned from entering.

"Aren't you quite nice?" She had praised with a slow kiss which again for being short felt a bit rushed to her. Lucifer arrived carrying a fruit basket scrounged up from kitchen perfected by Hannah, supposedly to cheer Aberforth up.
"I heard Grindelwald roughed you up again? My granger's beard, why does he always go for the face? Absolute scumbag..."
Lucifer opened with pure sympathy and small talk, Hannah Abbott who came with him, she offered her kindness, and thought nothing of it. But the ones watching from his space, Mazikeen and the others fell into stunned silence.
Even Kyouko Mejiro couldn't fathom how someone could have a psyche and a face thick enough to say that with a straight expression. 'The one who sicced Grindelwald on him... wasn't that you, my Lord?'
Completely unaware, Aberforth was a bit touched. The frost on his face melted and he even went into the back to make dinner for Lucifer and that Abbott girl, why did he think he was always here with a new face?
After a few drinks, the old man got red and rowdy and started cursing Grindelwald again.
"Grindelwald's a damn pansy. Total coward!"
"I can't beat him but I sure as hell won't bow to him. He only dares humiliate me because he doesn't dare kill me! What, you say I'm hiding behind my brother? Damn right that's my brother. Even if I don't acknowledge him, that doesn't change the blood. Who the hell is Grindelwald? A permanent outsider!"
"Push me hard enough and I'll move into Hogwarts as gamekeeper. Let's see how long it takes before he never sees Albus again in his whole damn life!"
Lucifer immediately pulled Gellert into the pocket space just to let him hear Aberforth's live commentary. Grindelwald tried to leave, but he didn't let him.
Everyone else was speechless. Not only did he poke the bear, he poured gasoline on the fire, truly despicable.
.......
'...Aberforth, once you're up here, I will absolutely protect you from Albus and that foul Grindelwald!'
Ariana watched her second brother dancing around, practically cursing Grindelwald's entire family tree, and decided she really needed to go down back to Earth otherwise Aberforth was going to get himself killed by the Devil someday.
But she couldn't! Still, Aberforth's suffering wasn't for nothing. It would help Albus in the longer run.
After a bottle of tequila, Aberforth turned on Lucifer next, "You brat. That damn guild of yours almost ruined me. Do you have any idea business I lost the past two months?"
Lucifer clinked glasses with him, then clinked Hannah's orange juice too, and downed his drink, "That's called the tide of history. And compared to Knockturn Alley, you got off easy. Those guys probably curse my name every day..."
Aberforth grunted but didn't argue. He knew he was collateral damage. Complaining was one thing. If he really wanted to make an issue of it, he'd have blown up at the kid long ago followed by getting beaten half to death.
Lucifer hadn't come only to poke fun though. With the Hog's Head finished as a semi-legal black market and likely unable to operate going forward, he had a new job lined up for Aberforth.
He was planning to open a branch of the Asylum Guild here. One guild for all of Britain wasn't enough, and shifting sensitive contracts away from London meant they wouldn't be traded right under the Ministry's nose. It also counted as giving his wife, Madam Bones some face.
Aberforth accepted without hesitation. He and Burke were cut 'from' the same cloth, otherwise he wouldn't have opened a bar that doubled as a black market.
Once they reached a verbal agreement, Lucifer passed him Eustace's contact information. The two of them could handle the details, he would only provide Maids' when the time came.
The weekend arrived fast, it was the day of the 'finals' for the Underage Wizard Dueling Tournament.
The castle was livelier than ever. Many major figures in the magical world had come to witness the crowning of the first champion. There was Headmaster Matthäus Selado of Castelobruxo, Vice Headmaster Blair Hawthorne of 'Ilvermorny' who was invited, and of course Minister Fudge, who would never miss such a public appearance, backed by two squads of Aurors.
"Mr. Morningstar, long time no see. I read Lady Greengrass's recent papers several times over. I must say breadth of her knowledge is astonishing."
Upon arriving, Fudge didn't go straight to Dumbledore. He made a beeline for Lucifer, shaking hands and exchanging warm greetings. He spoke like they were old friends, soft-tone and almost deferential, completely at odds with the fact that not long ago he had practically ordered Aurors to haul the said boy to Azkaban.
But that was what politicians excelled at. Even when their hearts dripped venom, they could smile like brothers.
So until he found a way to undermine Lucifer or knock him down a peg, Fudge would stay obedient and civil to protect his position as Minister.
Understanding perfectly well what Fudge was doing but didn't care, he also wasn't about to start a fight for no reason, Lucifer played along for a few lines, then found an excuse to slip away. As they walked off in opposite directions, their smiles disappeared simultaneously.
He entered the Quidditch pitch and took in the setup, gaze eventually landed on a mustached man chatting with Dumbledore behind elongated judges' table.
Vice Headmaster, Blair Hawthorne of Ilvermorny.
Robert Graves had already disclosed all the information he had. The two most mysterious wizards in North America were Ilvermorny's current and previous headmasters.
Blair Hawthorne was current Headmaster, Agilbert Fontaine's right hand. They had been classmates, then Aurors together in the 'American Magical Congress' for five years, and finally professors at Ilvermorny. Their relationship was famously close.
Fontaine staying away was a problem.
....For an event prestigious enough that every school's headmaster showed up, he sent only his deputy. Aside from Dumbledore and Rosier, the other headmasters looked distinctly unhappy.
Grindelwald? The man had fled, leaving Vinda Rosier in his place, and everyone had accepted that. No one wanted to sit next to the Dark Lord anyway. But Fontaine acting grand and sending a deputy? That rubbed people wrong.
Was he unable to leave North America? Or unwilling?
Dumbledore had the same thought.
Gellert had been haranguing him for ages to investigate what North America was hiding, so he was already alert to Fontaine's odd behavior.
Near ten o'clock, Fudge took his seat. And after a few meaningless opening remarks, his voice was overtaken by the stadium wide amplification of today's announcer, Ludo Bagman.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Four Schools 'Dueling Tournament' has finally reached its climax. I am honored to introduce today's competitors. The strongest second-year: Ginny Weasley. The strongest third-year: Hermione Granger proxy of Susan Bones. The strongest 'fifth-year': Cedric Diggory. All from Hogwarts!"
"The strongest fourth-year: Mark Collins, Castelobruxo!"
"The strongest sixth-year: Darcy Valentine, Beauxbatons."
"The strongest seventh-year: Duola Tiago, Castelobruxo."
Applause started early and didn't stop. Whether they came from one's own school or not, these fighters were the best of their year, proven in battle, no one had the right to question them.
Only Rosier's smile looked awkward, and Durmstrang students sitting in a distant corner kept their heads down, trying to shrink out of existence.
Four schools entered, and every school except Durmstrang had someone in the finals. Many Durmstrang students thought Grindelwald had left early because they had embarrassed him, and more than a 'few' were seriously considering transferring.
They feared returning home and being hit by a stray "Killing Curse."
They had dared make the Dark Lord lose face, who could just as easily make them lose their lives. Bagman explained rules for the benefit of those watching through the broadcast.
After the Quidditch exhibition match, Lucifer had invested in several dozen more Lumine-Lens. Now over thirty thousand people were watching, making this one of the biggest events in magical history.
Each competitor could challenge any opponent without limit, but could only lose twice. Lose twice and you were out of the running. The last one standing on Dueling platform would be the champion.
Second year, Ginny Weasely had already won, but was given an opportunity to fight one contestant, after witnessing her ability.
It looked chaotic on paper but was the most straightforward way to prove absolute superiority. None of the competitors objected.
No drawing lots for order either. They would go by year, from youngest to oldest. Which meant Ginny went first.
Mark Collins of course, could not swallow it, and marched forward, that same unlucky bloke Lucifer had once swept off a staircase with a casual flick. After the scuffle, everyone from both sides had somehow forgotten him, even the onlookers.
He had been the only one actually injured... which left Mark both gloomy and secretly relieved. If no one remembered, then he had not lost face. Still, fire was boiling in his belly.
He stormed onto the platform and glared at Ginny, "Do not blame me for picking on a second year."
"Shut it, big nose."
Professor McGonagall could only sigh.
Ginny really did go straight for the throat, all offense, no filter. Mark's face was flushed hot, hawk nose going scarlet first, like a clown.
At the signal, the Duel began. One trick used well will carry you far, she opened with the 'Bat Bogey Hex' again. Mark thought himself even stronger than Krum, which was his mistake. Ginny's hex was silent this time, his Protego was half spoken when he met the same end as girls from Beauxbatons.
This time McGonagall did not even need to call, Isabella hopped up helpfully and ferried Mark to Madam Pomfrey, then sauntered back to Alessio and arched a brow, "That is the student you were teaching? No wonder the two of you think alike...."
Gulp.
George and Fred swallowed in unison. Many looked at Ginny with the same horrified awe. Too brutal, a non verbal without spell casting, 'Bat Bogey Hex', how do you block that?
"When did Ginny get this fierce..." Fred was holding his head, racking his memories, if he ever offended the little Weasley girl.
"I just saw Mum," George whispered shivering beside him.
Harry also glanced at Ginny, then at a stupefied Ron. A ridiculous thought flickered through his head. Was there some secret to Ron's parentage? Adopted or something? But he kept it to himself. With the way his own sparring with Malfoy had strained things, he was not about to add 'fuel.'
xxxxxx
Diagon Alley
"That's my daughter! My daughter!" Mrs. Weasley shouted excitedly at the entrance to the Arkham Asylum Guild, practically glowing. Her round face bloomed like a sunflower as she beamed, "Ginny Weasley! My youngest! She's even better than her six brothers!"
In an instant, countless looks of envy and jealousy turned her way. Not just toward Ginny, but toward Mrs. Weasley herself.
Six sons. One daughter, that meant at least seven children in the 'family,' and who knew if she was going to keep continuing? How was anyone not supposed to be jealous?
xxxxxxx
Just when everyone thought Susan Bones was going to be on the sidelines again cradling her growing bulge of the stomach, 'finally' stood up, instead of letting Hermione take over, this time her tone wasn't sharp and fiery, it was playful, teasing.

"Next up... the 'Brightest' witch of our batch, you bushy haired girl, who proudly calls herself Lucifer's girlfriend, Miss Hermione Granger~ Oh no!" Susan covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, practically forcing her belly at the brunette, which screamed to be paid with adorable treats, "Am I even worthy to challenge you?"
Hermione's 'face 'went white then blue. That was clearly mocking jab at her official status in public! Hogwarts students connected the dots. So Bones was going to take Granger's spot now?
Dozens of eyes turned to Lucifer, still munching on drama like it was popcorn so to speak. Daphne beside him puffed up her cheeks angrily. She had 'fully' intended to teach Bones a lesson today, only to be beaten to it.
"Why are you staring at me?" Lucifer said, innocently baffled. "Look at the stage. Don't you guys enjoy a good girl fight?"
....Obviously they did. But what kind of twisted timeline was this, where a Hufflepuff girl was going around fighting a Gryffindor for stealing her boyfriend? Hannah looked like she was about to chew through steel, Darcy especially looked on the verge of collapse. This bastard, was he even human? Was he actually some kind of male Veela?
Hermione Granger offended, finally stepped onto the stage, pulling everyone's attention back, she wasn't just going to let this humiliation be let down, and would educate the girl for her own sake.
Susan giggled even sweetly, "Miss Granger, you won't cry if you lose, right? You should know a lot of Dark curses from the Library, right? I'd be so scared if you held a grudge."
'You little----dripping sarcasm like that.' Hermione's fists were clenched so hard, her knuckles cracked. She looked like she wanted to smash Bones's smug face in.
"The actual person involved hasn't said a word, but you're still yapping like a stray," She hissed back, "Miss... Bones, aren't you a noble lady from a prestigious house? Maybe go take a 'few' etiquette classes from your Aunty. No one likes a wild girl."
Temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees that instant when Susan's motherly smile vanished, "Granger, you're the one who needs to learn manners. Barging into someone else's home and acting like you own the place, guess muggle savages really don't produce anything decent."
That was a wide blast if ever there was one. She was afraid Bones would end up insulting every Muggle-born in the room.
"Ahem!" McGonagall coughed loudly, to interrupt the useless chatter, "Bones, less talking. Start the duel. Don't waste time, and friendship first, victory second. Do not let the result spoil good manners."
No one was listening to the platitudes.
She then stepped to the edge of the stage. Susan had reined in somewhat, grudgingly bowed with Hermione, then rose with her signature grin.
There was history between Susan and Hermione. Bad blood, the kind that doesn't fade with time, when rumours of Abbott getting pregnant had stared, the bushy haired girl stormed her way towards the Hufflepuff Common Room and demanded to share what in Merlin's name they had been doing behind her back? She only gave the permission to do light kisses, then why was she hearing they... 'fucked?'
The two of them ended up arguing, and it somehow became a Dueling match with her best friend Bones, she was just a good hearted Hufflepuff, a country bumpkin sort of idiot, just a rookie, yet she still managed to beat Granger. Sure, it was a narrow, lucky win, but in a duel, excuses didn't change the result.
From that moment on, the two girls rarely got along, Hermione never forgot that loss. If anything, Bones had become the driving force behind her relentless self-improvement, and to solely participate in the Dueling Tournament, even though she had lots of classes, and homework to do.
"Remember," Professor McGonagall said sternly to both competitors, You may fight at full strength, but any spell with lasting side effects is strictly forbidden. Otherwise, Professor Dumbledore has the authority to stop the match at any time."
At the edge of the arena, Dumbledore had already appeared, with Minerva continuing to be Head Refree, the three Heads of House serve as assistants, and the Headmaster would oversaw everything. With that lineup, telling students to go all out wasn't an empty bravado.
Susan and Hermione both nodded. When McGonagall announced the start, they completed duel formalities, then raised their wands at the same time, both casting silently.
'Silencio!' Hermione's mind screamed the incantation, her wand slashing downward in a sharp, practiced arc. A jet of brilliant scarlet light exploded.
At the exact same fraction of a second, Susan's wand whipped forward, completely silent, channeling a raw, driving force, with a tight piston thrust of her arm driving a dense beam of sapphire light straight out of the cedar tip slamming directly hers.
The spells didn't deflect. They didn't shatter. Instead, they locked dead-center in the air, fusing into a blinding, vibrating sphere of pure magical pressure that hissed like a nest of disturbed vipers.
The point of impact flattened into a vertical disc of violet light that spun rapidly, throwing off needle thin sparks as they died in the grass.
"Blimey! A Priori Incantatem knock-off right out of the gate?" Ron yelled, leaning over the wooden barrier.
They were showing no signs of dispersing, as they locked together, forming a crackling arc of energy.
The stands erupted in gasps. No one expected them to go this hard right from the opening, jumping straight into a raw contest of magical power.
Hermione's heels dug into the sod. The vibration traveled up her ulna, shaking the small bones in her wrist until her teeth clicked together.
The pitch was rising until it scraped against the eardrums of the front rows. Slowly, it slid three inches toward the left. Then six.
Lucifer sighed quietly, a hint of pity in his eyes as he looked at Hermione. 'Poor girl, you're standing on the left side. Don't you know it always loses beam clashes?'
The point of collision wavered in the middle for a moment, then slowly began drifting toward the Gryffindor's side which made Hermione's expression changed. The hand gripping her wand trembled under the crushing pressure of Susan's magic.
It felt like trying to hold back an oncoming Hogwarts Express with a wooden shield. Realising she couldn't win a battle of brute force, she bit her lip, gave a sharp twist of her wrist, and made a split second decision.
She severed the connection herself, but backlash still knocked her back several steps, her breathing ragged, lungs flatly refused to take in air for two full seconds.
Before the displaced dust could settle, Susan's silhouette blurred through the haze. Her wand hand stayed low, tracing a jagged, upside-down 'V'.The air around Hermione's ankles instantly curdled. The 'Knee-Reversal Hex' didn't arrive as a bolt; it manifested as an instantaneous cold draft that gripped tendons behind her kneecaps, trying to force the joints to snap forward against their sockets.
Hermione had anticipated this long ago. She'd been chanting counterspell in her head the whole time to one of her special opening moves.
"Mimblewimble!" The mental syllable was jagged. The localized gravity around her legs warped, turning the cold draft into a brief localized whirlwind that tore up a clod of earth and sprayed black dirt across her robes.
Seeing her spell neutralized, Bones immediately switched tactics. She gestured to the ground, and weeds at her feet writhed.
Her face remained a mask of cold, concentration, the look of a butcher who knew exactly where the chickens had ran. Tipping her wand, she jabbed thrice into the soil.
"Serpensortia Varietas."
More than a dozen thin grass snakes burst out, tongues flickering as they slithered in from all directions, trapping the groaning muggle born witch. Both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fell into stunned silence.
Their small black eyes caught the morning light like glass beads.
Zacharias Smith was leaning so far over the rail his knuckles were white against the yellow banners, his mouth hanging open in a dry pout, "Is... is Susan a Parselmouth? Since when do Badgers breed snakes?"
The young badgers were questioning reality. Was Susan Bones really one of them? Her methods screamed Slytherin. The snakes felt just as uncomfortable. A Hufflepuff acting more Slytherin than they did. Was this what it felt like to be outplayed at your own game?
"Get back!" Hermione hissed to herself, her throat burning, she was utterly panicked, "Incendio Duo!"
A twin-headed column of thick, greasy orange flame poured from her wand. She dragged the fire in a defensive arc, the heat instantly blistering skin on the back of her left hand. The grass snakes didn't pop into smoke; they sizzled, smell of burnt fat and singed green wood rising in a thick choking cloud that turned center of arena into a grey blind spot.
"It's over," Lucifer said flatly, shaking his head as he watched Hermione continuously spray flames from her wand, burning back the grass snakes to keep them at bay.
Through the curtain of grease smoke came a low tap tap of Susan's boots, moving at a steady jog. Hermione raised her wand to anchor a shield, but her eyes were watering from the ash. She guessed the trajectory, her wand tracing a standard dome with hasty motions.
"Protego!" The blue imperfect film of the shield hadn't even fully crystallized when a dull, olive-green bolt pierced the smoke at an oblique angle. Instead of smashing into the protection barrier, it slid along curved surface like oil on glass, then dissolved into a fine, vaporized mist that Hermione inhaled before she could close her mouth.
Instantly, her sinuses felt as though they had been filled with hot lead. A violent involuntary spasm seized her diaphragm. Her nose ran instantly with thick, freezing mucus, and her eyes swelled shut with tears.
The 'Mucus and Nauseam' curse completely severed her neural connection to her wand hand, her fingers loosened, the vine wood slipping down to her knuckles.
Susan's style was a relentless offense. The moment an opponent focused on defense, the variety of spells at her disposal would overwhelm anyone at a similar level. They'd scramble, miss a beat, and expose a fatal opening. And besides... She was simply stronger than Hermione to begin with, especially after getting 'pregnant,' Bones didn't even come under the proper human category.
From referee platform, McGonagall's fingers tightened on her silver stopwatch until metal casing ticked.
As one of two girls around who had personally ended an enemy's life, Susan and Ginny's mindset had already undergone a complete transformation, decisiveness and confidence in casting put many adult
wizards to shame.
Add in early physical development from half a dozen Strengthening Potions, both girls magic and physique were well beyond even most prodigies.
Whereas Granger's magical core took most of the benefits of her potions in accepting it, her own questions of not totally "believing" in spell's workings was holding the girl back.
By Lucifer's own standards, Susan and Ginny now ranked among the true standouts of their generations.
Sure enough, from start to finish, Hermione had stayed on defensive. Shielding herself, dispelling spells, scrambling nonstop, a single mistake was all it took.
Susan stepped through the dying embers of grass fire, her face perfectly clear, chest rising and falling matching the frantic pace of the duel. Her blue eyes settled on Hermione's shaking 'frame' with total finality.
The 'Petrificus Totalus' was short, sharp, and silent. The grey light hit her enemy square between the shoulder blades as she tried to clear her vision.
Instantly, the sound of her own ragged breathing cut off. Her jaw locked with a metallic snap, her arms pinned flat against her hips as if bound by wires.
Tipping sideways, her rigid body hit dry grass with a dull, heavy thud that knocked the remaining air from her lungs. Susan had slammed her with a complete 'Body-Bind Curse,' pinning her to the ground.
Closing the distance in three long strides, she pointed downward at the grass where Hermione's wand lay.
"Expelliarmus."
Finally, Granger's vine wand flew from her hand, leaping six feet into the air. Susan caught it by the grip with her left hand, her fingers closing around the wood without a single tremor.
She held both wands at her side, her head turning slightly toward the Headmaster's seat to await the call.
But the stands had exploded with applause, faces were filled with awe. This was absurd. A third-year who'd mastered dozens of Dueling spells. Had she started studying magic right after her magic awakened?
......
Hermione had already returned to the corner, frowning as she let out a quiet sigh, her curse was removed by Lucifer, it made her feel like she had taken a long bath. She'd expected to lose this match. What she hadn't expected was to lose so cleanly. Now the question was... who could she even challenge next? Ginny?
No, challenging downward and losing again would be too humiliating. That left only one option, The 'fifth-year' boy of Hogwarts.
As the winner, Susan had the right to either continue challenging opponents or step down and rest until the next round. She chose to step off the field, handing the stage's decision Hermione, who hesitated, she hadn't even beaten Ginny once, no, wrong, she didn't want to bully a younger girl, that's right, so she chose Cedric Diggory instead.
Unfortunately, Hermione didn't fare much better in her second, or dominate the way Ginny or Susan Bones had.
Cedric was one of Professor McGonagall's 'favorite' students, a master of Transfiguration. After securing his own defenses, he flooded the arena with all kinds of small animals.
Hermione's 'Transfiguration' was excellent too, but when it came to flexible application and fine control over transformed creatures, she lagged behind. One side had a scattered rabble of kittens, the other a trained Dog army, the outcome was obvious.
Before long, a border collie barked loudly from behind, she screamed, and it snatched her wand right out of her hand, and she lost her second challenge.
Hermione was furious with herself afterward. She knew she'd made a tactical mistake. She never should have competed with Cedric in Transfiguration. She should've used the wide-area spells Lucifer had taught her. But it was too late for regrets.
....Having lost two rounds, she could only withdraw, her face had shown signs of being pitiful, and wanted to hide inside her boyfriend's school robes for the rest of the term, never coming out.
The challenger became Susan, who didn't hesitate to pick Cedric as well. And she, too, ended in "defeat." It made Hermione's mood a little better.
Mark Collins didn't show his face.
But Hufflepuff students clapped until their hands were sore. Professor Sprout, serving as an assistant referee, smiled so hard her eyes nearly disappeared.
This time, her badgers were riding high, happier than Christmas, but their joy didn't last long.
Cedric chose to challenge Darcy Valentine and was instantly subdued by a single mental spell. He froze in place, eyes unfocused, consciousness dragged into an illusion.
She had never shown any mental-type magic in earlier matches, so Cedric hadn't guarded against it at all. Just that careless moment, and he was done. Losing like that 'felt' especially frustrating.
Once he regained consciousness, Cedric gave a wry smile. Uninjured, he chose to continue and challenged the seventh-year, Duola Tiago. This time, Tiago revealed a new form of Druidic transformation: a jaguar.
A jaguar wasn't as strong as a brown bear, but it was faster and better at closing distance. Agile beasts like that were often more terrifying to wizards. What happened next, though, had both crowd and the viewers watching through Floo mirrors laughing out loud.
Cedric raised a small mound of earth around himself, then transfigured the outer layer into iron plates, turning it into a laughably crude little bunker.
It was flimsy by any standard, but more than enough to stop a jaguar's claws. He even left a ring of gaps so he could fire spells from inside.
With no other choice, Tiago reverted to human form, and the match turned back into a standard wizard's duel.
His professor, Isabella, sighed. This was the inherent weakness of Druidic transformation. Until one could become a magical creature, it was little more than a surprise trick. Give a wizard enough space, and dealing with a beast was actually simple.
In the end, despite taking some injuries, Cedric won the match.
Watching his 'fight' with Tiago, Susan also saw through the weakness of druidic transformation. To a chorus of gasps, she challenged Tiago herself. From the opening move, she kept her distance. Tiago's two animal forms were both quickly exploited, and in the end, she actually won, quitting the Competition on high.
A third-year defeating a seventh-year.
That result sent Madam Bones in the Greengrass Castle into absolute ecstasy, and she snogged Evelyn beside her who was overwhelmed.
After that came Darcy's moment to shine. She challenged her way up 'from' the bottom, defeating every remaining competitor one by one.
Miss Valentine became the champion.
After the matches concluded, there was a brief awards ceremony, Ginny got rewarded first, then under Hermione and Daphne's murderous glares, she pulled Lucifer up onto the stage with her, clinging to his arm the entire time, the two of them pressed close together.
She didn't even glance at the thousand Galleon prize, casually handing it to a Beauxbatons student before stepping forward to give her victory speech in a clear, ringing voice.
"Thank you to the professors of Beauxbatons for teaching me without holding anything back, and thank you to Madam Maxime for trusting me. But most of all, I want to thank you, my dear. Meeting you has been the greatest fortune of my life."
In front of everyone, Darcy Valentine boldly kissed Lucifer on the cheek, her gaze practically melting. At that moment, some girls' looks toward her changed, 'filled' with naked hostility.
After a declaration like that, wouldn't the whole world assume She was Lucifer's official girlfriend? Of course, that's not entirely wrong, he was just waiting for the right age to marry this wonderful girl, but still.
"Mr. Morningstar, if you ever have the time, you're welcome to visit Beauxbatons," Madame Maxime said before departing. "It's a very different sight from Hogwarts. I'm confident you'd enjoy it."
Lucifer smiled awkwardly and nodded, promising he would visit if he ever had the chance. At the same time, he scrubbed his face hard with his hands, trying to wipe away the lipstick mark still lingering on his cheek.
"Magic?"
This wouldn't fade, Darcy really had gone too far, actually enchanted a kiss mark so it straight for the throat. It was as if she was afraid he might have an easy life afterward.
He turned his head and met the barely contained laughter in those beautiful eyes of the half-Veela, Lucifer shot her an annoyed look, exchanged a few more polite words with Madame Maxime, then hurried off to a raging Hermione.
........
As the visiting schools departed one after another, Hogwarts gradually returned to its usual calm. The students also welcomed the 'final' Easter holiday of the school year.
The hole Valentine had dug before leaving made this week pure misery for Lucifer. He was putting out fires everywhere.
Unfortunately, he still couldn't rely on his body to split just yet. If he could, solving these problems would be much faster than relying on sweet talk and endless dates.
Now, look where he was? The Hospital wing, face hidden behind a mask, Lucifer laid flat on his back, wore a hardcore winter outfit, with grey sweater, and black socks, covered by his pajamas.
Every slight breath forced to scratch against fresh wounds, sending sharp jolts of pain through his chest.
Collarbone was a mess of deep, jagged gouges where Hermione's curved Kneazle claws had first dug in deep, her nails tearing twin tracks down his sternum that still oozed a slow, sticky warmth against the wool. Jealousy in her feline form had turned her touch into a scratching frenzy. With long curved nails pawing to leave marks at any body part she could find.
But damage beneath winter layers wasn't just from her claws; the marks of her obsessive, predatory affection covered his body in a relentless sequence of rough, animalistic territory.
Before her claws had come out, her mouth worked over his skin with a cat-like ravenous intensity. Along the column of his throat and down the sides of his neck, she had alternated between rough, sandpaper-like licks and deep bruising suctions.
Dark purplish hickeys mottled his skin from his jawline down to hollow of his throat. She had attacked his ears, her teeth clamping down hard on the lobes and tracing the cartilage with sharp nips that stung before breathing hotly into the canals.
Even the hollow skin of his armpits hadn't been spared; she had buried her face there, licking sweat-warmed skin raw and burying her teeth into the tender 'flesh' until he whimpered.
Lowering down, beneath waistband of his pajamas, evidence of her feral jealousy turned even more intense. She had targeted his groin with a maniacal need to establish total ownership. Her teeth had nipped ruthlessly at inner thighs, leaving a ring of crescent-shaped bruises that now ached with a throbbing heat.
She had wrapped her mouth around his thick hardening cock, not with soft, human strokes, but with wet, dragging friction of a cat's tongue, licking the length from base to head until it was swollen.
Her lips had sealed tightly around the heavy weight of his balls, sucking one testicle deep into her mouth, pulling and dragging against in warning nips that made Lucifer's hips twitched in a mixture of agony and acute arousal.
Whacking her palms against his lower abdomen, nails catching the lower tracking of his waist before she dove back down to bite fiercely into the ridge of his glans, leaving a deep, pulsing mark right where the precum leaked.
Flipping him over in her brainless hormones, Hermione had keenly focused her attention on his backside. Her sharp nails dug deep into flesh of his buttocks, leaving long red welts across his cheeks.
Biting down hard on the meat of his arse, growling loudly, she had created deep marks, before her tongue darted lower, roughly lapping and licking at his tight arsehole with a primal, humiliating intensity that left puckered skin---and he erupted.
It had gone for the entire night.
Now, trapped beneath the heavy grey sweater and pajamas, every single one of those bite marks, hickeys, licked patches were throbbing in perfect sync with steady drip of the potion vials nearby, Murtlap essence, leaving him completely immobilized by the memory of her feral fury.
Grindelwald had even called him about picking up Barty Junior, and Lucifer hadn't had the time.
Hermione hurried to Gryffindor Tower, up to her dorm room, showered and then got dressed in some fresh clothing, ready for Hogsmeade.
She stopped by the Hospital Wing quickly to see her boyfriend. She walked over to him and saw him staring at the ceiling.
He looked over at her and saw she was clean and ready to go somewhere, "Lucifer, I'm going to Hogsmeade today. Not because I want to, but because I need to get something there. Something for you..."
She felt her cheeks heat up slightly.
"Hermione," Lucifer sat up, grunting and struggling, but he managed, "Hermione, you don't have to do that----"
"I want to. I don't know your birthday, but I am going to make it up to you... so Is there... anything you want?" She looked down at her feet, totally ashamed of what she had done.
"I-" Lucifer stopped himself, not sure what to really say, "You shouldn't feel obligated to spend your money on me, Hermione..."
"I don't feel obligated! You're my boyfriend, Lucifer, and the best friend that I've ever had... the only, I've ever had..." She began to tear up, but not from frustration or anything like that.
Hermione realized how close she came to losing him last night, when in the morning, the girl was back to her right senses, she almost wanted to torture herself with the Unforgivable Curse, she wanted to cherish him and every moment with him, not this...
"Well, I can't stop you... you don't have to get me something big and expensive... just... something sincere," Lucifer smiled at her and laid back down, exhaling slowly from the pain.
"Okay, I'll not be gone the whole day, don't worry," She smiled back, kissed his cheek which didn't have Darcy's mark and left the Hospital Wing.
She stopped at the door and looked back, really wanting to just crawl up on him and straddle him as she snogged him senseless. She didn't even bother to berate herself, because that was what she wanted to do right then to make it up to him.
But she knew it would be more for her own satisfaction, that's why Hermione just sighed and walked out to go to Hogsmeade.
She arrived a while later and walked around, looking for a specific shop.
During her search for it, she walked into Honeydukes and bought only a few pieces of candy for him, knowing he wouldn't want a lot of sweets.
Another twenty minutes of walking, founding a rather secretive looking shop, only by a peek Hermione realised what kind of shop it was.
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, used a glamour charm to make her face look slightly different, and hurriedly placed an order of varieties to deliver at her residence, blowing most of the pocket she earned over the holidays.
Almost thirty minutes passed doing so, Hermione didn't even realise it, then she walked again for another ten or so, then 'finally' found it.
"Tomes and Scrolls, there it is!" She hurried inside and began browsing the books and scrolls in there, wondering if any of them would appeal to him. She didn't figure much out as since he lived at Lux, had his own Library, he had access to pretty much all the relevant stuff he could want.
"Knowledge is Knowledge, though..." She then carefully scanned each book and scroll, just to be sure she was finding something useful for him.
Hermione ended up finding a Tome on Healing Magic, 'Sanatio Magia pro Tironibus', and bought it for him.
It was a little on the expensive side, now all her galleons were gone, meaning she had to do a lot of work at home, but Lucifer was worth it.
If for whatever reason he went through his vast wealth and needed Ten Galleons, Hermione would give her boyfriend her last Ten Galleons without a second thought.
She made her way back up to the Castle and to the Hospital Wing to find Daphne and Astoria there, standing next to Lucifer's bed. She decided that she'd wait to give him the present, probably tomorrow morning in the Common Room.
xxxxxx
Later that night, Hermione was sitting next to the fire, reading through a random book she'd grabbed, unable to really pay attention to the plot.
Madam Pomfrey had said Lucifer would get to leave the Hospital Wing tomorrow morning, but she was unable to sleep with worry for him.
The bag of his presents sat beside her on the floor and Crookshanks was curled up on the chair opposite her.
The portrait swung open and Lucifer staggered in a bit, holding his stomach.
"Lucifer!" Hermione immediately stood up and went to him. She helped him by holding his arm and guiding to a chair, "I thought you were supposed to leave tomorrow morning? I can't believe Madam Pomfrey would let you leave like this?"
"She didn't... I walked myself out. I was tired of lying in that bed, feeling useless..." he sighed and leaned back into the chair.
Hermione noticed and saw that his black hair had gotten noticeably longer and shaggy since the beginning of the year.
Or maybe it was just because of recent events and that he hadn't bathed since before all of this happened; he normally kept his hair looking at least somewhat nice, or at least under control (Hermione always thought it looked nice, even now), but he hadn't had chance to go and do so.
"Maybe this will make you feel better?" Hermione said, pulling out some Honeydukes Sweets and the Tome she bought.
Lucifer opened the Bertie Botts Beans box, pulling out one that looked safe to eat. He tossed it in his mouth and was relieved, "Blueberry Pie."
Hermione smiled at his fortune.
"What's this book?"
"It's a Tome of Spells, all useful for Healing of all kinds. It's more of a Beginner's Guide, really," She explained, her motives laid elsewhere, just a safe route if something like that happened again, "I know you have incredible healing powers, but still, it would be better to know real spells. And, I wasn't sure if Lux would have the book or not."
"Sanatio Magia pro Tironibus?" Lucifer opened the book and flipped to the first spell in it, "Episkey, Professor McGonagall used this on me last year after I woke up in her office after Chamber incident was dealt with then I saw you in the Hospital wing, that's the happiest moment of Second Year for me..."
Hermione placed her hand gently on his knee and smiled at him, "Seeing you after waking up from Petrification, that was easily my happiest moment from Second Year as well."
He smiled back at her, not minding being attacked.
"Thank you, Hermione, thank you so much for this," Lucifer pulled her into a hug, which because of the awkward angle she would have had to be at for the hug if she stayed on her feet, she twisted and ended up sitting on his lap to hug him.
Her face began to redden, but for an entirely different reason. Lucifer let go of her and she quickly stood up, smoothing out her robes, "You're most welcome. I hope you get a lot of use out of it this summer!"
"I'm sure I will... never know when having to perform, healing magic will be necessary," he laughed and then winced from the pain.
"Lucifer, you should take it easy. Madam Pomfrey said my curse was very dangerous to recover from...." Hermione began to get serious again.
"I'll be fine, curse is already gone... I just need to get up to my bed..."
"Do you want me to help you?"
"Sure... I'll never turn away your help with something like this..." Lucifer said, standing up and Hermione replaced his book and candy in the bag, slinging it over the shoulder and carrying it up with her after she hoisted him out of the chair.
She walked up behind him and quietly crept into the Boy's Dorm room. She set his stuff down next to his bed while he carefully sat down on the edge of it, "Thank you... Hermione..." he smiled weakly at her.
"Did Madam Pomfrey even help you?" She asked quietly.
"She fixed my ribs, but my stomach..." Lucifer trailed off.
Hermione teared up a little, "Lucifer... I'm sorry, I really am, I don't know what came over me, you've endured so much this year... I don't know how you've done it..."
He smiled again.
"I'll see you in the morning, Hermione," Lucifer stood up and embraced her. She cried into his shirt until he released her.
"I-I'll see you i-in the morning," Hermione wiped her eyes, gave him a little wet kiss, and left the dorm room, going to her own after gathering her stuff from the Common Room.
"'Diffindo."
"....I was right, you do make me vulnerable." Lucifer now held a white coloured feather in his fingers, but it was not a quill used to write on, "At least, you can do the job where Madam Pomfrey wasn't able to."
xxxxxx
South west London, Wandsworth.
The Clapham district.
This was the heart of old London, a place that had witnessed Industrial Revolution and the last brilliance of the Victorian era. Large numbers of Georgian and Victorian buildings had been preserved here.
The Crouch residence stood beside a lush public park, protected by 'Muggle-Repelling Charms' and spatial concealment spells. In many ways, it mirrored the arrangement at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Once Grindelwald confirmed Dumbledore had cooled off, or at least decided not to pursue matters further for now, he quietly returned to Britain to fulfill his agreement with Crouch: to take Barty Crouch Jr. away.
The house-elf Winky led Barty Jr. out, his movements lifeless, like a walking corpse. Winky stole a glance at the Dark Lord whose name echoed across the world.
When Grindelwald looked back at her, she hurriedly lowered her head.
He paid little attention to a mere house-elf, and studied Barty instead. The boy's eyes were unfocused, utterly indifferent to his arrival. A trace of amusement curved Grindelwald's lips.
"Crouch."
"Hm?" Crouch looked at him, puzzled.
"Your 'Imperius Curse' isn't very good," Grindelwald said lightly. "And you really should get your eyes checked. Can't you see that your son could, at any moment---"
He didn't get to finish.
In the next instant, the dull haze in Barty Jr.'s eyes vanished, replaced by razor-sharp clarity and raw hatred. His body lunged forward like a leopard, straight at Crouch, his target unmistakably the wand in his father's hand.
Crouch didn't react at all. He stood there dumbfounded. Just as delight flickered across Barty's face and his fingers were about to close around the wand, air suddenly condensed into an invisible hammer that smashed into his chest. He was hurled into the wall, coughing painfully as he slid down.
"As you can see," Grindelwald said mildly, as if expecting that, "he can break free at any time."
His outstretched hand closed slightly. In the living room, coffee table and nearby furniture softened like noodles, twisting around still coughing Barty and binding him in place.
With masters of wandless magic in the pocket space, Grindelwald's own skill in the art had improved dramatically. And influenced by Lucifer, he'd also developed a fondness for dealing with amateurs in this offhand, crushing way, just to make it clear they weren't even on the same level.
"Master!" The house-elf finally reacted, screaming as she collapsed to the floor.
"Silence!" Crouch snapped at the lowly servant, "This doesn't concern you. Go prepare a lavish dinner for Mr. Grindelwald at once."
Winky left the living room, glancing back again and again. Crouch watched Barty struggle, his expression was complicated.
"I've embarrassed myself in front of you, Mr. Grindelwald," he said stiffly. "My grasp of the Dark Arts really is lacking. I even forgot that repeatedly casting the 'Imperius Curse' weakens its effect..."
"I'll handle it," Grindelwald said with a smile, cutting off Crouch's self-reproach. Barty was glaring at him with ferocity of a wolf, which only piqued his interest further.
"Do you need some time to talk, father and son?" he asked lightly. "If not, I can take him with me today."
There was no doubt about it. Barty Jr. was one of Voldemort's most fanatical followers. Only Bellatrix might rival his devotion. Turning Barty had become a silent contest between Grindelwald and Voldemort.
"There's nothing left to say," Crouch shook his head, "You may take him tonight."
"Very well, Crouch. I give you my word. Next time you see him, Barty Crouch Jr will be a completely different man." Without touching the lavish dinner Winky had prepared, Grindelwald took Barty and left London in short order. He was clearly eager to begin his work.
xxxxxx
After Kneazle's curse, next came the effects of boosted luck.
These past few days, Lucifer finally looked like a true chosen one. He'd find a pouch of thousand Galleons just lying on the road. After subscribing to the 'Daily Prophet', he won the "lucky reader" prize three times in a row, earning three years of free newspapers. He even pulled several rare Chocolate Frog cards in succession and casually gave to Ron and Zabini, who collected them.
xxxxxx
"Lucifer, you finally made it." Burke was waiting at the entrance. The moment he saw him, broke into a grin and pulled him into a big hug, "Those guys showed up early. They're all waiting for you in the conference room."
"Where's Crouch?" He asked.
"He got here even earlier. I haven't asked yet. Seriously, how did you convince that stiff old guy to work for you?"
"Easy," Lucifer smiled as he walked through the guild doors. "I talked to him about dreams, about the future. He was moved by my sincerity."
"Your lying skills are terrible for a born Slytherin," Burke shot back.
After escorting him to the conference room door, Eustace took off. He had zero interest in scheming and maneuvering of businessmen, and no intention of wasting time here.
Lucifer pushed the door open.
Dozens of witches and wizards inside immediately stood up, warm smiles appearing on their faces as they greeted him. Every one of them was dressed in a tailored suit. They looked less like wizards and more like white collar elites from the Muggle world.
Responding politely but distantly, he nodded to Crouch, and took the seat at the Head of the table. Everyone present today was either a manager of a professional Quidditch club or the Head of a Commercial company.
They were here for one reason only.
To use the Lumine-Lens to promote their products or matches, "You're all busy people, and I've got plenty of guests to entertain myself," Lucifer said calmly, making a note of crossing his legs, "Let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to business."
He snapped his fingers. The lights in the room dimmed instantly, and the Lumine-Lens behind lit up.
"My goal isn't just to put this in shopping districts or the lobby of the Ministry. I want it in every wizarding 'household', just like WhatsApp. You're all familiar with Muggle television, right?"
Businessmen were the most sensitive to changes in the world. Many paid close attention to Muggle society, constantly drawing inspiration and repackaging suitable ideas for profit in the magical world.
And because they understood how television had reshaped advertising industry, they'd come to Lucifer like sharks drawn to blood. If they seized this opportunity, could crush their competitors, even drive them straight into bankruptcy.
"Let's start with Quidditch," he said, scanning the room. "Who here represents a Quidditch League team?"
Whoosh!
Seven or eight hands shot up at once. One chubby, fair-skinned man couldn't wait to speak, "Mr. Morningstar, I'm the owner and manager of the 'Tutshill Tornados.' William Tutshill."
Lucifer's eyes lit up.
The Tutshill Tornados?
"Mr. Tutshill, have you ever considered selling the team?"
"....." William was completely dumbfounded. Wasn't he here to talk about match broadcasting rights? How did the conversation suddenly turn into selling his entire team?
"My girlfriend is a die-hard fan of your club," he explained with a polite smile.
Tutshill blurted out without thinking, he had watched the infamous declaration of love, "A French girl watches British matches?"
"..." Now it was Lucifer's turn to be speechless. The whole wizarding world already knew Darcy Valentine was 'his girlfriend.' At this rate, did he need to parade every other girl around too just to establish presence? No wonder Hermione was being an unhinged lunatic for several days.
The moment he imagined endless gossip and shady rumors that would spiral out of control, his scalp started to prickle. He had zero interest in turning his love life into dinner table gossip for bored wizards.
Seeing Lucifer's expression suddenly darken, Tutshill's heart jumped. He forced a bitter smile and said, "Mr. Morningstar I truly have no intention of selling the team. This club is an ancestral asset of my family. Even if our results are terrible, we can still barely keep it running."
He thought the boy was angry over the refusal. But angry or not, selling was out of the question. Unless absolutely forced, no one wanted to be remembered as the wastrel who sold off the family legacy.
"It's fine," Lucifer said, his expression easing. "Miss Hannah Abbott is a loyal supporter of your club. I thought about buying it as a gift for her, but if it's a family legacy, forget it. Just give me a full set of signed photos from players across the club's history. That should be doable, right?"
Tutshill nodded repeatedly, promising to deliver them the very next day.
"Now, back to business..."
Lucifer stopped dwelling on it and steered the conversation back on track, laying out his plan. It was actually very simple. He wanted the broadcast rights for Quidditch League matches. Any revenue generated during, would have nothing to do with the teams themselves. The term would last one year.
On the surface, it sounded like a tyrant's contract. In reality, the league wasn't losing out. Many Quidditch teams were currently operating at a loss, or barely breaking even. Their only income came from ticket sales and a pitiful amount of advertising on team uniforms.
They wouldn't get paid during that first year, but broadcasting matches would massively boost exposure, which in turn would increase stadium attendance.
When they renegotiated revenue sharing a year later, profits would skyrocket. None of the team managers present had serious objections. However, since unanimous approval was required, they didn't agree on the spot. Instead, they contacted teams that weren't present, as well as league officials.
Unfortunately, not everyone was reasonable. Out of the twenty teams in the league, three flatly rejected Lucifer's terms and insisted on getting paid this year.
Now Tutshill and the others were stuck in an awkward position. Lucifer, on the other hand, waved it off casually, "Then don't broadcast their matches. If the league wants money, you can break off and form a new one yourselves. The power is in my hands right now, not yours, and certainly not theirs..."
He didn't mind sharing the pie, but right to decide how it was sliced had to stay with him. If they didn't agree, he'd flip the table and bake an entirely new pie.
The managers exchanged glances, discussed things briefly with other teams, and finally agreed to Lucifer's arrangement. When everything was settled, they left.
What followed was his cooperation with advertisers. As for the numbers involved, it was better not to listen. The bigger the figures you couldn't touch, the more they hurt.
This was the first time television advertising had ever existed. No one really knew what kind of effect it would have or how much each ad slot should cost, Lucifer didn't know either, so he simply organized a small auction, dividing the ad slots by time and sold them off.
He might take a loss at first, but as the market matured, prices would naturally settle at reasonable levels. The advertisers agreed to the plan.
Half an hour later, several ad slots were successfully bid on by 'Nimbus, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans', and 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.'
The companies were fairly satisfied with the prices. Now all remained was to see how effective the ads would be once the league began.
After the contracts were signed, they left as well. Lucifer, however, stayed behind at the Arkham Asylum Guild, waiting for the next group. He didn't have to wait long before representatives from several radio channels arrived.
The "Lumine-Lens" couldn't survive on Quidditch alone. Radio programs could be adapted for the big screen. As for the content, he didn't care. As long as it was diverse enough, gave wizards more choices, and reasons to buy one.
"Hah..."
It wasn't until six in the evening that he finally finished meeting everyone needed to see that day, Leaning back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
"What a pain..."
The dull, tedious power struggles and scheming left him deeply annoyed. He would rather spend his time studying than wrangling with merchants. But there was no helping it. Promoting the "Lumine-Lens" would in tune increase his ways of enjoyment.
Name itself came from his wife, Lady Luminous Valentine, the Demon Lord who holds the 'fifth' seat of the Octagram and was one of its oldest members. She was the queen of all Vampires as well as true ruler of the Holy Empire of Lubelius, where she was worshipped as "God" of Luminism.
'Haru Nanakusa', somewhere inside Lux's penthouse was one of their many children born.
"Crouch, I'll leave the follow-up details to you. My requirements are simple, don't give up the interests we should hold.... And there's no need to hoard everything if we can all make money together. On that basis, push the Lumine-Lens as hard as possible. Aim for what I mentioned before. Every wizarding household should have at least one."
Crouch... nodded silently.
Truth be told, he really wanted to say that this had very little to do with Arkham Asylum's actual work. But when the boss handed down an assignment, he didn't feel right refusing.
Especially now that Barty's condition had been improving. During the last communication with Grindelwald, he could hear his son shouting at full volume, screaming and cursing with plenty of energy. Compared to the lifeless shell he'd been before, it was a huge improvement.
Lucifer had only been dealing with domestic merchants today and was already fed up. Crouch, on the other hand, would be facing businesses from every other country as well.
No, he definitely needed to rope in a few helpers. As Crouch pondered who else he could drag into this mess, a cheerful, round face suddenly flashed through his mind. Ludo Bagman.
Crouch had little respect for Bagman's ability to actually get work done, but he fully acknowledged his social skills. The man knew plenty of languages and could take on a fair share of the pressure.
While mulling this over, he didn't forget to have Winky bring in the dinner that had already been prepared.
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