Lucifer awoke early the next morning. He did not find Hermione beside him, a routine he was well accustomed to by now, but his vessel felt far stiffer than usual. Sitting up on the edge of his four-poster bed, he stretched his arms over his head.
A succession of sharp, loud cracks echoed from his spine, leaving behind a satisfying wave of relief that always accompanied the release of physical tension.
He pulled on his school robes, fastening the scarlet-and-gold Gryffindor badge over his chest, and quietly walked down spiral stairs to the Common Room. It was completely deserted, illuminated only by the faint gray dawn filtering through the high windows.
Occasionally, he would find Hermione down there reading before him, but that remained a rare sight. He practically dropped into the plush armchair nearest the stone fireplace, closing his eyes as he decided to patiently wait for his girlfriend to come down.
His short-lived peace was abruptly shattered by a familiar, velvety voice emanating from the wall. "My Lord?"
Lucifer's eyes snapped open. He shifted his gaze toward a large, ornate portrait hanging directly over the fireplace mantel. Inside the frame stood Makima, her piercing yellow eyes looking down at him with an unreadable, eerie calm. "What is it?"
"I have been keeping an eye on Dumbledore's movements just as you instructed," She stated, her voice dropping into a grave, formal tone. "I have gathered a piece of information that... you will not be pleased to hear."
"I told you before, just call me Lucifer when we are alone, and lay it on me," Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temples. "It can't be that horrible, can it? What has the old man done now?"
"He was speaking in his office with your Head of House, Professor McGonagall, and Snape a few days ago," Makima revealed, taking a deliberate pause to observe Lucifer's reaction. "They were actively debating your official position as Prefect. Dumbledore did not initially want you to receive the badge."
"He what?!"
The furious voice did not belong to Lucifer. Both he and the woman in the portrait turned toward the Girl's Staircase, where Hermione was standing on the bottom step. Her face was completely pale with shock, her eyebrows knit together in absolute, appalled anger as her gaze locked onto the moving figure over the fireplace.
"Dumbledore didn't want Lucifer to be a Prefect?" Hermione asked, marching across the rug until she stood right beside the armchair.
"No," Makima continued smoothly, her amber eyes flickering with a dangerous curiosity. "He actually intended to grant the position to Ronald Weasley. However... Dumbledore 'feared' what Lucifer would do if he were bypassed. He explicitly gave him the position of Prefect simply to placate him, to keep him under control."
Hermione looked down at Lucifer, her anger instantly turning into panic. His right hand was gripping the wooden arm of the chair with such immense force that his knuckles were stark white. The thick wood was groaning and splintering under his fingers.
"Lucifer, hold on—please, don't—"
She didn't get to finish her sentence. With a sharp, explosive 'crack,' Lucifer broke the heavy wooden arm completely off the chair, his face a mask of cold, calculating fury as he tossed the broken fragment onto the hearth.

"Why?" Lucifer asked, his voice deceptively quiet, though magic in the room noticeably dropped in temperature.
"That human Snape was the least pleased with the ultimate outcome, demanding to know why Dumbledore would bow to such pressure," Makima reported. "But McGonagall defended you. She couldn't understand the hesitation, because she always believed you were the only logical choice to be Gryffindor's new male leader.... Dumbledore countered by saying you are heading down a dark path he fears will inevitably lead to destruction and chaos. Word has reached him regarding exactly what you did to Malcolm Graham at the end of last term."
She smoothed down her dark suit jacket, a chilling smile playing on her lips. "But nothing will be done against you yet. The Ministry of Magic, quite honestly, is terrified of your power, Lucifer... It is exactly why you did not receive a formal Ministry hearing of your own like your other friend. To them, you are entirely unpredictable, yet entirely predictable. They know you will dismantle anyone who threatens Hermione, and they know you are not hesitant to assert absolute dominance over a situation if you deem it necessary.... You are, quite honestly, more unpopular within their circles than the one currently accused of lying."
"No... his treatment was always short, but highly noticeable," Hermione muttered, her mind spinning as she recalled the 'Daily Prophet' articles. She glanced back down at Lucifer, completely hating the dead, detached look currently settling over his handsome features.
"The Ministry has weaponised their bureaucracy to ensure your name stays completely clear from the papers and any news outlets," Makima added at the last. Suddenly, the faint sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the boys' stairwell. Without another word, the Control Devil melted into the background of the portrait, disappearing from the frame entirely.
Hermione quickly sat down on the remaining arm of the chair beside Lucifer just as Seamus Finnigan bounded into the Common Room. The Irish boy took one look at the boy's rigid posture, froze for half a second, and immediately bolted out through the portrait hole into the corridor.
"Is he okay?" She asked quietly, trying to bring Lucifer back to reality.
"His mother believes every word the 'Daily Prophet' prints, and all the shit they are saying about Harry," Lucifer said, his voice returning to an eerie calm that didn't match the broken wood beside him.
Hermione knew he was trying to use the Seamus distraction to completely ignore what Makima had just revealed, but this wasn't a slight that could be easily put aside. She made a mental note to corner him on the bed later, far away from prying ears, to properly unpack Dumbledore's betrayal. "Do you want to wait here for Harry, or—oh, for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed suddenly, her academic focus overriding her panic.
"What?" Lucifer asked, his eyes following her pointed finger toward the noticeboard. He let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Pinned squarely over a poster detailing the first Hogsmeade weekend in October was a freshly inked, loud parchment sign:
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley,
Gryffindor Common Room,
For simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(we regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk)
"They are the limit," Hermione said grimly, taking down the sign, "We'll have to talk to them!"
Lucifer raised a brow, "Why?"
"Because we're Prefects!" She barked as they climbed out through the portrait hole, "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"
"Alright, fine," he said, easing her mind. On the way to the Great Hall, Hermione looked at him, "Lavender as well thinks that Harry is lying.. I told her to keep her stupid big mouth shut about him, because she doesn't know what she's talking about."
"That honestly doesn't surprise me that Brown said that," Lucifer said, giving a short, single, cold laugh.
"It really doesn't surprise me either..."
They both walked down to the Great Hall in silence, and Hermione stopped him just before they entered, "Hey... about what your Secretary said."
"There isn't anything to talk about. She said what she said, and Dumbledore basically thinks I just shouldn't exist, along with many other people," Lucifer said with a shrug.
"He doesn't think that..." Hermione trailed off.
"I'm less popular than Harry in the Ministry at the moment. I think only person that hates him more than me right now is Voldemort, but that's not saying much right now…" Lucifer said cynically.
"Lucifer, what do you want me to say?" Hermione looked up at him, her eyes showing hurt. He lifted his hand and brushed some hair back behind her left ear.
"You don't have to say anything," he gave her a sad smile, "it's nothing I can't handle."
"But you shouldn't have to!" She exclaimed more forcefully than she meant to.
"Neither should Harry, but he still is…" he looked past her to the Marble Staircase, seeing some students coming down, "Tell you what, I'll do my absolute best to behave myself like a good boy this year."
Hermione felt her face burning, and her eyes widened at his suggestive word choice. She saw him turn and walk into the Great Hall, leaving her there. She shook off her shock after a moment and followed him inside.
xxxxxx
The morning sun filtered weakly through the high enchanted windows of the Great Hall, casting long, pale shadows across the long wooden tables. The ceiling mirrored a grey, overcast sky, perfectly matching the somber, tense mood that hung over the returning students. Lucifer navigated the crowded aisles with an effortless, icy grace, completely ignoring the widespread muttering and the suspicious side-glances thrown his way. He claimed his usual spot halfway down the Gryffindor table, his movements deliberate and sharp.
Hermione quickly slid into the seat directly on his right side, her fingers nervously drumming against her vine wand.
xxxxxxx
For the 'first' few days of the school year, there was always a peculiar atmosphere hung over the castle.
The most obvious sign was the influx of owls at breakfast. Every morning, a flood of letters arrived, far more than usual. Typically, this time of year was filled with chatter and excitement as students shared holiday stories and laughed over their meals. But now, the Great Hall was eerily subdued.
Students were absorbed in reading and responding to letters, their attention fixed on parchment rather than conversation.
The lively chatter had been replaced with the sound of quills scratching, and if an outsider were to observe, they might assume everyone was cramming for an important exam. This strange shift in mood had started at the very first day of school.
"My mom's asking about school again," Justin Finch-Fletchley muttered at breakfast, tossing a half-read letter aside, "That's the fifth letter in just a few days. Dad's written, too. It's like they think there's a madman loose in the castle, ready to snap at any moment."
"Isn't that exactly the case?" Zacharias Smith said from across the table. He finished scribbling a reply and handed it to the owl perched nearby, "That old fool Dumbledore is just making a spectacle out of Harry Potter to grab attention," he continued. "A headmaster as famous as him, pandering to frauds. No wonder parents are worried."
"I don't think Professor Dumbledore would do something like that," Ernie Macmillan said quietly. He agreed with Justin and trusted Dumbledore, but he refrained from arguing with Zacharias directly. "My family reads 'The Daily Prophet,' and they've suggested I not come back to Hogwarts. But, of course, I still came. I don't want to give up on magic."
"Well," Zacharias replied, "I have to write home every day to assure my family I'm safe here. It's their condition for letting me stay."
"That sounds exhausting," Ernie muttered. Mikel, sitting nearby, couldn't resist cutting in. "If you're so worried, why not just stay home? You'd save yourself the trouble of writing a letter every day."
"I don't mind the parchment," Zacharias said flatly, "and why should I give up my education because of two liars? They're the ones who should leave."
"Dumbledore is not a liar," Rolf Scamander retorted firmly, his attitude totally in contrast to his usual introverted, and social anxiety inherited from Newt, "He's the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. My 'family' believes in him completely."
"Same here," Mikel chimed in.
Zacharias shrugged indifferently. "The 'Daily Prophet' has made it clear. If you lot want to be stubborn, that's your choice."
"You're the one being stubborn," Mikel shot back. "Believing the 'Daily Prophet' over Professor Dumbledore is ridiculous. That paper's rotten for even questioning him."
Zacharias' jaw tightened. "If Dumbledore wants my belief, he can provide solid proof You-Know-Who is back. Until then, I'll trust 'The Daily Prophet' over baseless claims." Pushing his plate aside, he added, "Oh, by the way, the Dumbledore you're defending? He's been expelled from both the 'Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards' for losing his marbles."
With that, Zacharias stood and left the Great Hall. The conversation left an awkward silence at the Hufflepuff table as everyone exchanged uncertain glances.
"It's normal for some people not to believe, right?" Hannah said, trying to break the tension.
"Ha, who cares if he believes it or not," Susan Bones said, shrugging. "Whoever decided to expel Professor Dumbledore is going to regret it."
"You're absolutely right, Miss Bones," Rolf agreed, and the mood at the table began to recover. Soon, the conversation grew lively again, even Lucifer stopped his eavesdropping cause Neville had taken the habit of forgetting things, to the extreme.
Four owls carried a massive parcel and dropped it at his feet, nearly knocking over a bowl of porridge on the table. Neville hurriedly opened it to check, only to discover he'd forgotten an astonishing number of things, "My wand!" He exclaimed in delight as he picked it up. "I thought I'd lost it!"
Hermione rolled her eyes beside him.
A Wizard forgetting his own wand was like turning up to an exam without an admission ticket or playing 'football' without boots.
Across from them now sat Harry and Ron, both of them staring blankly at their empty gold plates, their faces haggard and drawn from a lack of proper sleep. The noise of clattering cutlery and clinking goblets did little to mask the cold, isolated pocket of air surrounding their small group.
"Morning," Harry muttered hollowly, his green eyes darting up to look at Lucifer for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to his hands.
"If you can call it that," Ron grumbled, reaching out to lazily pull a large plate of sizzling bacon toward himself. "The whole common room was whispering when I walked down. You'd think we all sprouted horns or something...."
Seamus had merely repeated some of his mother's criticisms of Dumbledore, and two had ended up arguing. They'd nearly drawn their wands on each other the night before, if not for Lucifer.
In their dormitory, Dean Thomas was a pure Muggle-born, his family had no idea who Voldemort even was, while Ron and Neville sided with Harry.
Seamus now found himself isolated, sulking at breakfast, he had heard a conversation between Lucifer and Hermione before his other two roommates had arrived.
xxxxxxx
~Flashback~
"After years as roommates, if even one of them not takes his side. Harry's really failed at this." Then, with a hint of sarcasm, Lucifer added, "Seamus is quite something, too. After knowing him for so long, he should understand what kind of person he is. His mother's ignorance is one thing, but Harry, though a bit dim at times has never been one to lie.... If Prophet started praising Voldemort as the saviour and calling Harry the 'Dark Lord,' would he believe that too?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her boyfriend's mocking tone, and the two quickly moved on from the topic.
She'd only mentioned it in passing, really, just feeling that these boys were too immature, lacking their own judgement.
Not far behind them, Seamus's face flushed alternately pale and red. He'd heard every word of Hermione and Lucifer's conversation, burning with shame yet unable to refute any of it.
Two conflicting viewpoints warred in his mind. Should he believe mother's words or trust his own roommate?
xxxxxxx
~Present~
"Lavender was saying something similar last night," Hermione said glumly.
"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry asked angrily.
"Let them whisper," Lucifer said smoothly, pouring himself a cup of black coffee without a single flinch, "Everyone's inherently terrified of things they lack the capacity to understand. Their gossip is nothing more than a defensive reflex...."
He decided he was going to try and be a bit more passive with insults and anger thrown at Hermione, unless it was some of the worst things that could be said to her.
Hermione didn't say it to him this time, but he knew she wanted him to stop being so angry and violent, so he'd try his best to do that, but only because it was her.
"No," She said calmly, taking over, "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down my throat, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we believe you, we are on your side."
Harry had a look of idiotic remorse, "Sorry…" he said quietly, playing with his toast's butter that was spilling out after that.
"That's quite alright," She said with an air of dignity about her, and poured herself a glass of banana shake, "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the End-of-Term feast last year?"
Harry and Ron both stared blankly at her, causing her to sigh.
xxxxxx
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