He stood up quickly, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the table. Hermione made a move to rise as well, her fingers reaching out to catch the hem of his cloak, but he didn't turn around. He didn't have the patience to listen to her arguments, nor did he care to engage in Harry's brooding silence or Ron's oblivious eating habits.
Talking to them wasn't going to undo the corruption of this school. The lingering sting of Makima's revelation from that morning, that Headmaster had actively plotted to deny him his Prefect badge just to favor an incompetent Weasley, had finally curdled with Snape's unchecked malice.
He strode out of the Great Hall, his heavy leather boots snapping against the stone corridors. Every student he passed instinctively veered out of his way, picking up on the volatile, icy static radiating from his aura.
Within minutes, he arrived at the secluded corridor housing massive, silent stone gargoyle that guarded the spiraling entrance to Headmaster's private tower.
Lucifer stopped right in front of the sculpted monstrosity, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets as his jaw tightened. He began spouting every single wizarding confection he could recall from his memory, trying to force the magical lock.
"Lemon Drop... Cockroach Clusters... Acid Pops... Fizzing Whizbees... Sugar Quills... No, Toffee Éclairs then?"
Nothing happened. The stone gargoyle remained completely motionless, its blank, carved eyes staring down at him with a silent, infuriating arrogance.
Lucifer's last remaining molecule of patience snapped. He took a heavy step forward, his posture shifting into a predatory stance as his dark eyes completely bled out, replaced by a dangerous, vibrant crimson that glowed brightly in the dim, torchlit hallway. The air pressure around landing instantly plummeted, a freezing, unnatural draft swirling around his boots as magic of the castle began to violently warp around his desire.
"How about you open this damn wall and let me through," Lucifer threatened, his deep voice carrying a terrifying, echo that rattled the nearby windowpanes, "or I will personally tear you off this structure, shred your enchantments to ribbons, and reduce your entire history to a pile of worthless pebbl----"
xxxxxx
The stone gargoyle let out a heavy, grinding groan as hidden mechanism behind the wall finally tripped. It didn't slide open because of a guessed password, but rather because the old wizard inside had 'finally' sensed the volatile, suffocating heat building at his doorstep. The sculpted bird-like figure twisted to the left, revealing a dark, spiraling stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator.
"Lucifer! Stop!"
Hermione's voice echoed down the corridor, her frantic, rapid breaths catching up to him just as the passage revealed itself. She sprinted around the corner, her uniform slightly askew, a half-eaten pumpkin pasty still clutched in her hand. Her chest heaved as she slid to a halt on the damp stone floor, her eyes scanning his rigid posture and the faint red glare still burning in his pupils.
"Get back to the Great Hall, Hermione," Lucifer said, his voice dropping into a flat, danger that brooked absolutely no argument. He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the moving stairs.
"I am not leaving you to wreck the Headmaster's office!" She hissed, stepping directly into his line of sight, blocking the threshold. The faint scent of the cinnamon and spiced pumpkin from her pastry drifted between them. "I know what Makima told us this morning. I know Snape just tried to humiliate Harry. But if you march up there and threaten Dumbledore, you are playing exactly into his fears. You'll give him every excuse to strip your badge and label you a danger to the school!"
"He already labels me a danger, love," Lucifer chuckled darkly, taking a slow step forward until his chest almost brushed her shoulder. "The old man sits on his golden chair playing puppet master with children's lives, all while trembling behind his desk because he can't map my intentions. I am going to remind him who he is dealing with."
"No, you're going to listen to me!" Hermione cried out, dropping the pastry onto the floor as she grabbed both of his lapels, her knuckles digging into the heavy fabric of his Gryffindor robes. She looked up at him, her face flushing with a mix of terror and unyielding stubbornness. "You promised me on the stairs that you'd behave. You said you'd be a good boy this year. Was that just a lie to get me to stop talking?"
Lucifer stared down at her, the intense crimson in his eyes flickering for a fraction of a second as her reminder hit home. The sharp tang of ozone that had begun to fill narrow corridor slowly started to dissipate, the heavy pressure in the air lifting just enough for her to draw a clear breath.
Before he could respond, a calm, magically amplified voice drifted down the spiraling stairwell from the top of the tower.
"Mr. Morningstar, Miss Granger... since the doorway is already open, I suggest you both come up. It seems we have much to discuss, and cold stone corridors are rarely conducive to clear communication."
Hermione's grip tightened on his shirt for a split second before she slowly let go, smoothing down her vest with a shaky hand. She shot Lucifer a stern, warning look that clearly said 'keep your mouth shut', before turning and stepping onto the moving stone stairs. Lucifer let out a low, irritated click of his tongue and followed her up into the dark.
The staircase carried them all the way to a heavy, gleaming oak door with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin. It swung open automatically, revealing the circular, spacious interior of the Headmaster's office.
The room was exactly as Lucifer remembered it from last year, yet the atmosphere felt significantly more hostile. The walls were covered in snoring portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, though several of them were squinting through half-closed eyelids to spy on the newcomers. Dozens of delicate, spindly silver instruments sat on spindly tables, whirring, puffing small clouds of green smoke, and spinning in erratic patterns.
Fawkes, the magnificent scarlet and gold phoenix, sat quietly on his high golden perch near the window, his dark eyes watching Lucifer with a strange, intelligence.
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his massive, claw-footed desk. He looked incredibly old under the bright silver light of the lamps, his long, sweeping silver beard tucked neatly into his belt. A large plate of silver-wrapped treacle toffees sat untouched near his right hand, alongside a stack of official Ministry missives bearing Fudge's purple seal.
"Sit, please," Dumbledore said softly, gesturing with a long, thin hand toward two comfortable chintz armchairs facing his desk.
Hermione sat down immediately, her posture rigid, her hands neatly folded over her knees. Lucifer, however, remained standing. He leaned his hip against the edge of a heavy bookcase filled with leather-bound tomes, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the old wizard.
"To what do I owe this rather... thunderous visit, Lucifer?" Dumbledore asked, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, though his tone carried a calculated, heavy caution. "The stone gargoyle downstairs will require quite a bit of structural mending after the display of intent you left at its base."
"You can skip the pleasantries, Albus," Lucifer said flatly, deliberately dropping the title of Professor to assert his own standing. "Let's talk about the selection of the Gryffindor Prefects... Specifically, why you spent an entire evening arguing with McGonagall because you wanted to hand a position of authority to a boy who can barely manage to keep his own shirt buttoned straight."
Hermione sucked in a sharp, terrified breath, her head snapping around to stare at Lucifer in absolute horror. She hadn't expected him to lay his cards on the table so violently, much less reveal that they knew the exact contents of his private staff meetings.
Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but the faux-twinkle in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, penetrating sharpness. He adjusted his spectacles, his gaze drifting from Lucifer over to the portraits on the wall, before settling back on the boy.
"The inner deliberations of the Hogwarts faculty are intended to remain private, Mr. Morningstar," Dumbledore said, his voice dropping into a deeper, more commanding resonance that echoed off the stone walls. "Though I see your alternative sources of information remain incredibly... 'efficient."
"My sources are flawless," Lucifer smirked coldly. "You wanted to give it to Weasley because he's malleable. Because he's a pawn you can easily direct through his mother and his loyalty to Harry. You didn't want me because you're terrified that you can't control what I do with the authority. You think I am walking a path toward destruction, isn't that right?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily, intertwining his long fingers on top of the desk. "I wanted to give Ronald the badge because I believed it would provide him with a much-needed sense of validation and responsibility alongside his peers. And yes, Lucifer... I do harbor severe concerns regarding your conduct.... The incident with Malcolm Graham at the end of last term was not a simple disciplinary infraction. It was a calculated, brutal exhibition of dominance that left a student hospitalized for a week."
"He called my girlfriend that word, Professor," Lucifer's voice dropped into a whisper, his crimson eyes flaring to life once more, casting a demonic red glow across the delicate silver instruments on the tables. "In my world, creatures who spew that kind of filth are turned into ash and scattered across the void. He got off incredibly easy with a few broken bones."
"This is not how we do things, Lucifer!" Dumbledore countered, slamming his hand flat against the desk with a rare flash of visible anger that caused Fawkes to let out a low, startled trill. "This is a school of magic! We do not break children's bones to teach them lessons in morality! You possess Merlin's, frightening power that does not belong to this plane, yet you wield it with the emotional volatility of a teenager.... If I gave you this badge simply to prevent you from tearing this castle apart in a fit of spite, then I am guilty of appeasement. But do not mistake my compromise for weakness."
Hermione stood up from her chair, her face pale but her expression fierce as she stepped between the two powerful entities. "Professor... Lucifer has kept Harry safe for four years. He has kept me safe. The Ministry is actively trying to destroy his credibility, and now they've sent Dolores Umbridge here to spy on us. If you had split the Gryffindor leadership between me and Ron, the common room would have dissolved into chaos within a week. Lucifer is the only one the other houses actually fear enough to stay in line."
Dumbledore looked at Hermione, his features softening just a fraction as he took in her desperate defense. He let out a long, weary breath, looking every bit of his one hundred and fifteen years.
"I am well aware of the political storm outside our gates, Miss Granger," he said quietly, his voice returning to its normal, tired drone. "The Ministry is indeed terrified of what they cannot manage.... They have intentionally scrubbed Lucifer's name from every print of the 'Daily Prophet' because Cornelius Fudge cannot stomach the idea of the public learning that a boy of such unpredictable power exists outside of government control. To them, Harry is a political nuisance. Lucifer is an existential threat."
The old wizard looked back up at Lucifer, his blue eyes cloudy. "You have your badge, Mr. Morningstar. Use it wisely. But know this—if you use that authority to execute your own brand of vengeance upon the students or the staff of this school, I will personally see to it that castle's ancient wards strip you of your standing before the day is out."
"I'd love to see the wards try," Lucifer sneered, though he slowly let his eyes fade back to their deep, natural black, signaling a temporary end to the standoff. He reached out, casually plucking a gold-wrapped treacle toffee from the desk platter, turning it over in his fingers. "Just keep your pet greasy bat Snape on a shorter leash, The next time he vanishes Harry's potion while ignoring the absolute slop the Slytherins are brewing, making the worst ones in class, yet Snape didn't 'fail' them, or even give them zero marks. You tell me, Headmaster, in what world is that fair? At this rate, I might just forget my promise to be a good boy."
"Lucifer, I assure you, whatever reservations you still have about Severus are not---" Dumbledore cut off there, looking at him, not knowing what to say. He leaned forward and joined his hands together, "I will have a talk with Severus---"
"Talking isn't good enough anymore. If this were a regular Muggle School, Snape would've been removed from his position and replaced with someone more fair. Listen, Professor, either Snape gets over his little pity party he throws himself because of something Harry apparently did, or he packs his bags and leaves Hogwarts."
There was a loud gasp from the bushy-haired girl as she realised the implications, he was planning to tattle on the 'Potions Master!'
"You don't mean…?"
"I will report him to the School Governors, mark my word… you can think whatever you want of me, Dumbledore… but the Wizarding Community is stuck in the past thinking Blood Status matters, they need to get with the times. The Muggle World is changing, with or without them, and if they aren't careful, Wizard-kind will become an endangered species, because a simple 'Obliviate' won't be good enough," Lucifer turned to leave, ignoring the weird feeling he always got here, lunch was almost over and he had an 'Arithmancy' class to go to.
Without waiting for a dismissal, he walked straight out of the office, his cloak billowing out behind him as the heavy oak door slammed shut.
Hermione offered a quick, deeply apologetic bow to the Headmaster before sprinting out after him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She caught up to him just as the moving spiral staircase reached the bottom landing, the stone gargoyle sliding back into place behind them with a heavy thud.
The corridor was quiet now, distant clatter of lunch in the Great Hall signaling that student body was finishing their meals. Hermione grabbed Lucifer's arm, forcing him to stop beneath a tall arched window.
"Are you completely out of your mind?!" she whispered furiously, though her eyes were shiny with tears. "You threatened the most powerful wizard in the world! You practically admitted to having spies inside his private meetings!"
Lucifer turned to look at her, his expression melting into a genuinely soft, amused smile. He reached out, gently pressing the silver-wrapped toffee he had stolen into her palm. "I didn't threaten him, pet. I merely established terms. And besides, I told you I'd behave for you, didn't I?"
Hermione stared at the piece of candy in her hand, then looked up at his smug, incredibly handsome face. She let out a long, defeated sigh, a small, involuntary laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head. "You are an absolute nightmare, Lucifer Morningstar."
"Your nightmare," he murmured, leaning down to press a quick, lingering kiss against her soft lips, the faint taste of cinnamon still lingering on her skin.
xxxxxxx
The Gryffindor couple made their way to 'Arithmancy' to find they were the last ones to arrive, with a mere ten seconds to spare. The heavy oak door had barely clicked shut behind them when they noticed their classmates had intentionally left their usual desk entirely empty, a silent, collective buffer zone from the volatile boy.
Hermione went at the spot with fervor, quickly claiming her seat and smoothing down her pleated uniform skirt. Lucifer slid into the bench beside her. The sharp scent of her fresh ink and the lingering heat of her anger radiated across the small wooden divider.
She leaned in, her eyes flashing with a tight, frustrated glare as she acknowledged his arrival.
"Hello? You completely left me back there."
"Hey," She murmured smoothly, propping her chin in hand. She was clearly mad at him, or deeply frustrated by his reckless, sudden departure to confront Headmaster. Regardless of her mood, she was not happy with him, but Lucifer resolved that she would simply have to get over that for the time being.
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, watching the faint static of his own power recede as Professor Vector tapped her sharp chalk against the blackboard to start the class, plunging them into a dense lecture on "Numerical matrices."
xxxxxxx
After the grueling period of Arithmancy, he and Hermione made their way down to the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' classroom. Both of them could only wonder how utterly boring and tedious the upcoming class could possibly be under a Ministry bureaucrat.
"Well, I certainly didn't expect this term to be easy, but our Fifth Year is already proving to be immensely challenging," Hermione said softly as they navigated a shifting, creaking stone staircase that swung them toward the third floor.
"Very much so, especially with the absurd mountain of homework we've already got assigned on the first day," Lucifer smiled at her, his voice a low, teasing purr that cut through the drafty corridor. "But it shouldn't be too much trouble for us, pet. We are easily the two smartest students in our whole year."
Hermione tried to maintain her fierce, disapproving scowl, but she couldn't stop the sudden, vibrant blush from creeping up her cheeks. She looked down at her heavy bag, her fingers tightening around the strap. "Stop…"
"What?" He glanced over at her, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "I thought you'd be entirely used to that by now?"
"I am… but…" She trailed off, her voice dropping into a breathless whisper as she checked surrounding corridor to make sure no other students could overhear her. "It's different. The way you say it... I simply can't stop it from happening."
"Well, I suppose I can restrain myself for the rest of the school year," Lucifer whispered back, leaning down to wink at her, his lips brushing past her bushy hair. "Unless, of course, we find ourselves completely alone."
The suggestive promise made her face turn even hotter, her skin practically burning a deep pink as they reached the threshold of the Defense classroom.
They stepped inside to find Dolores Umbridge already sitting rigidly behind the teacher's desk. She was wearing the exact same fluffy, sickly-pink cardigan from the night before or she simply possessed an entire wardrobe of identical, horrifying knitwear. A heavy, suffocating silence hung over the room.
Every single student was dead quiet upon entering; Umbridge was a completely unknown quantity, and no one truly knew how strict or volatile of a disciplinarian she would turn out to be.
"Well, good afternoon!" She said in a high-pitched, entirely false cheerfulness once the final student had taken their seat. A few scattered, intimidated people mumbled a ragged response that sounded like a low, drowsy, "Good afternoon."
Lucifer didn't say a single word, keeping his jaw set, so Hermione remained completely silent beside him, matching his defiance.
"'Tut, tut," Umbridge said, her wide, toad-like mouth twisting into a patronizing pucker as she tapped her short fingers against the desk. "That simply won't do now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply with a proper, collective 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Let us try that one more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the classroom chanted back in a dull, synchronized drone.
But Lucifer and Hermione, once again, did not join in. They sat perfectly still, completely ignoring the mandatory greeting as though they hadn't heard her high-pitched voice at all. Umbridge's large, bulging eyes swept across the room, and unsurprisingly, she took immediate note of the silent rebellion.
She locked her gaze directly onto Lucifer, her small smile turning entirely malicious as she called him out directly in front of his peers.
"Why do you refuse to do as I explicitly ask, Mr. Morningstar?" she asked, her sickly-sweet voice carrying a sharp, dangerous edge. "Is the highly insignificant honor of being 'Merlin's Descendant' making you so thoroughly arrogant that you think you can simply ignore your professor?"
Lucifer leaned back against his wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest with an elegant, completely unbothered grace. "Mrs. Umbridge, if being directly related to the greatest wizard in history, the man who had the Ministry's highest reward named after him--is considered 'insignificant,' then I can only assume you must possess plenty of grander accolades yourself. How about bringing them out and showing off to the class?"
Umbridge's expression darkened instantly, the sugary veneer on her face fracturing. A tense, electric silence fell over the desks. If she actually possessed a Order of Merlin medal, she wouldn't have needed Lucifer to say a word; she would have already flaunted it across her pink cardigan.
"No way," Lucifer added, his tone shifting into an exaggerated, mocking wonder. "You can't possibly 'not' have one. If you don't even possess such an 'insignificant' honor, how can you legally be a professor? Or did you just bribe the Headmaster with a few heavy pockets of Galleons to secure the desk?"
The entire class collectively held its breath, the silence in the room turning absolute. Lucifer's words had turned every single eye toward him in pure, shock. Not even the boldest Gryffindor or the most reckless prankster would have ever dared to say what he just had to a senior Ministry official. Umbridge's entire short body began to tremble with a violent, uncontained fury.
"How dare you!" She shrieked, her voice cracking as she slammed her stubby hands flat against the desktop. "How dare you speak to me in that manner!"
"Oh, come now," Lucifer said smoothly, sounding completely relaxed as he looked up at her. "Maybe you used a simple Sickle instead of gold. It would certainly make the purse look a little fuller, wouldn't it?"
Umbridge's face flushed a deep, ugly red before turning a sickly shade of green. It was glaringly obvious she was fighting a losing battle for internal control, her fingers twitching near her velvet handbag. Then, as if struck by a sudden political realization, her expression smoothed back out into a tight, terrifying smirk.
"All right, I admit, you do possess a tiny modicum of commendable ancestry, Mr. Morningstar," she said, her voice forcefully reverting to its usual, suffocatingly sweet affectation. "But that historical legacy does not give you the right to completely cast aside basic manners in my presence."
She took a slow step around her desk, her eyes scanning the quiet room. "It is a pity, really, that Albus Dumbledore never bothered to teach you proper institutional discipline. Of course, it's not entirely surprising. I think we all know how incredibly irrational and unstable the Headmaster has been lately, always publicly spouting the most absurd, dangerous nonsense."
No one responded, but the room felt heavy with a dense, freezing tension. Every student knew exactly what she meant; her venomous words were a thinly veiled jab at the recent smear campaign in 'The Daily Prophet.' Specifically, she was alluding to Dumbledore's declaration at the end of the previous school year: warning the Wizarding world that Lord Voldemort had returned.
"I think you believe it too," Umbridge said, her gaze locking back onto Lucifer with a triumphant, malicious gleam in her eye. "You think what Dumbledore said was completely ridiculous, and that the old man himself is becoming highly confused."
"Dumbledore is not confused!" Someone suddenly blurted out from the middle row, unable to hold back under the weight of the slander.
"In my classroom, students must properly raise their hands if they wish to speak," Umbridge snapped sharply, her head spinning around toward the source. "Who are you?"
"N-Neville... Neville Longbottom, ma'am," the boy replied, his voice trembling slightly as he clutched his quill.
Umbridge's gaze lingered on him with a cold, dismissive contempt momentarily before she turned her attention back to Lucifer, sensing an opportunity to corner him. "So, Mr. Morningstar... what exactly is your opinion on the matter?" she asked, her tone deceptively warm.
"I think..." Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly. He felt Hermione's sharp, stern gaze boring into the side of his face, practically begging him to behave and stay silent, but he resolved to do the exact opposite.
He locked his dark eyes onto the pink toad. "...that the Headmaster is at least a hell of a lot smarter than you are."
A few muffled gasps echoed from the Gryffindor side. Umbridge's jaw tightened, but she forced a loud, artificial laugh, her fingers smoothing down her cardigan. "There, now, this is a structured classroom, there is absolutely no need to start an unnecessary, uneducated debate. Next time, a simple greeting—that's not too difficult to manage, is it? Wands away and quills out, please."
'Exactly what I foresaw the second I saw the useless textbook she wanted us to buy,' Lucifer lamented silently in his head.
This was exactly the absolute opposite of what 'fifth-year' students should be doing, especially with Voldemort actively rebuilding his forces in the shadows. He reached into his robes and pulled out his enchanted 'Auto-Quill.' Hermione stared at the self-writing instrument for a few heavy seconds, her expression wrinkling in an immediate, past-enemy kind of relationship with the shortcut magic.
She opened her textbook to page one, her jaw set as the silent war between the Ministry and Hogwarts officially began.
xxxxxxx
Ink bottle, and parchment while Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own short wand, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it.
Words immediately appeared on the board;
Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles.
"Well, now your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it," She stated more than asked, turning to face the class with her hands clasped in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year."
Hermione knew that was a lie, and if her classmates had any sense, they'd know it to be a lie too, because if anyone was well above the standard, it's Lucifer without question. Her gaze lingered on Umbridge's wand, recalling something Mr. Ollivander had once told her.
'The wand chooses the wizard' wasn't just an empty saying. A wand's core, wood and even length could inadvertently reveal aspects of its owner's personality. Longer wands indicated bold, decisive personalities who favoured powerful spells.
Shorter wands suggested those who preferred elegant, refined spellcasting. Here, 'long' and 'short' referred to the standard range of nine to fourteen inches. Anything shorter couldn't be considered a normal wand, indicating significant personality flaws in the witch.
Like Umbridge's wand, which wasn't even eight inches long. This wasn't just a flawed person, this was a flaw that had gained sentience.
While Hermione was lost in thought, the Professor had already started the class without her knowing, she realised it badly that her good student' behaviour was affected cause of being with Lucifer too much. Her mind was completely elsewhere!
"----be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of Defensive Magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
She tapped the Blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:
Course aims:
'1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.'
For a couple of minutes, the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Lucifer listened to his fellow classmates, because quill was doing it's job. And, he was just looking at the blackboard, thinking of ten different ways to explode it and get away with doing so.
When everyone had copied down Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of 'Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. "I think we'll try that again," Umbridge said sweetly, "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
Once again, everyone but Lucifer and Hermione responded to her, "Yes, Professor Umbridge."
"Good," Umbridge said, ignoring the two deviants as if they didn't exist, and avoided like she would be cursed badly, and her whoring past might very well be exposed. She had a younger brother who was born a Squib, deeply despised her mother and sibling, blaming them for the lack of magic and status in her family.
Going as far in pretending to be a 'pure-blooded' witch and claimed a fake relation to the pure-blood Selwyn family. She forced her low-ranking Ministry worker father into early retirement to hide her true background and prevent people from knowing about her Muggle mother. Those darn Lovegoods' however knew about her, and Morningstar was blood-related to that blasted 'family!'
"I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes.
Lucifer didn't remove the book from his bag, and quite honestly he almost torched it the moment he got it again.
The content was mind-numbingly dull, rivalling Professor Binns' lectures, he stared at the same line six or seven times at the board, before looking to see what Umbridge was doing, and froze in shock.
Hermione hadn't opened her book. Instead, she had one hand raised high, staring unblinkingly at Umbridge, who was steadfastly looking in the opposite direction, looking anywhere but his deskmate or himself for that matter.
He eyed Umbridge for a minute, before going back to Hermione. Depending on how this played out, he wondered if he should stay quiet. A few minutes passed, and Lucifer realized he wasn't the only one who had seen the girl's hand in the air.
As more and more people became blatantly bored with the book, and began to look at Hermione, because this was quite out of "her character."
It was only when over half the class were staring at Hermione rather than their books, Umbridge seemed to decide that she could no longer ignore the situation.
"Did you want to ask me something about the chapter, dear?" She asked the Gryffindor girl, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the Chapter, no."
"Well, we're reading just now," Umbridge said, showing her small, pointed teeth, "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione said, she portrayed herself adamant as she stared at the blackboard' with bad face, causing Umbridge to raise her eyebrows.
"And your name is…?"
"Hermione Granger."
xxxxxx
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