That morning, the Gryffindor fifth-years filed into 'Double Charms,' which was immediately followed by 'Double Transfiguration.' Like every other class they had sat through since the start of term, barring the disaster which was their single Defense lesson, the first fifteen minutes of each lecture were aggressively hijacked by the professors to hammer home the immense significance of their O.W.L. year.
"What you must remember," Professor Flitwick said, his squeaky voice vibrating with a high, frantic energy as he stood atop his usual massive tower of cushions, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given some serious, concentrated thought to your eventual careers, now would be the time to do so! And... in the meantime, I'm afraid we shall be working harder than ever to make sure you are thoroughly prepared and do yourselves proper justice!"
They then spent more than an hour reviewing the practical mechanics of the 'Summoning Charm.' The classroom was a chaotic symphony of stray parchment and flying inkwells, except for Lucifer. He initially took the time to practice advanced, seventh-year 'non-verbal' conjurations, but the dense, crackling hum of his magic quickly began distracting everyone else in the room.
Hermione shot him a sharp, warning nudge with her elbow, her eyes pleading for decorum. Sensing her anxiety, he rolled his shoulders with a lazy sigh and resolved to simply read ahead in his 'Transfiguration' manual instead.
Transfiguration itself proved to be even worse, delivering a heavy blow to the class's collective morale. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly behind her desk, her stern eyes scanning the room with a cold, piercing clarity.
"You cannot pass an Ordinary Wizarding Level examination," McGonagall said grimly, her voice echoing sharply against stone walls, "Without serious, unyielding application, consistent practice, and deep study... I see no logical reason why every single person in this room shouldn't secure an O.W.L. in this class."
Beneath his desk, Neville Longbottom let out a soft, involuntary sound of absolute disbelief.
"Yes, you too, Longbottom," She said instantly, her tone entirely devoid of bias or malice. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with your work except a severe, persistent lack of confidence. Now... today we are going to begin the theory of 'Vanishing Spells.' They are mathematically easier than Conjuring, which you would not normally attempt until your N.E.W.T. year, but they still rank among the most difficult magic you will be tested on for your O.W.L. Of course, one of you has already proved to be able to competently and consecutively perform N.E.W.T. level spells, both inside and out of this classroom."
McGonagall didn't have to voice the name for every eye in the room to instantly pivot toward Lucifer. When the practical test began, he simply drew his wand, performed a single, fluid flick, and vanished his designated snail on his very first attempt, leaving nothing but empty wood.
She didn't reward him any house points for a spell he already masterfully knew, but her eyes glinted with a sharp challenge as she asked him to perform a highly complex 'Conjuring spell' instead.
Lucifer complied flawlessly, materializing a polished silver goblet out of thin air, which cleanly earned ten points for Gryffindor.
Beside him, Hermione worked with an intense, burning focus, successfully vanishing her snail on her second attempt. She let out a tight breath of relief as McGonagall awarded her another ten points for the house. Long ago, she had made the quiet, internal decision to actively strive for the second-best spot in every class. After the terrifying events at the end of the previous school year, she had faced the stark reality that it was humanly impossible for her to match Lucifer in the purely academic aspect and absolutely no one alive could match his Magical prowess.
He had already proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt as far as she was concerned.
Because only Lucifer and Hermione were capable of accomplishing the practical magic before the bell rang, neither of them received any homework from McGonagall's class.
The lack of an assignment sent Harry and Ron into a slight, visible panic as they packed their bags, their shoulders slumping under massive mountain of parchment they already had to get done.
Harry was slightly less stressed, as he had at least managed to grind out half of his 'Potions' essay, but that wasn't saying much given the workload.
By the time lunch rolled around, Harry and Ron were noticeably absent from the Great Hall. Sitting at the long table, Hermione carefully served herself a modest portion of roasted chicken and peas, her eyes tracking the empty seats across from them. "They're trying to get caught up on the 'Potions' essay," she deduced quietly, looking over at Lucifer. "We have an immense amount of work this year... it might genuinely break some of the students."
"Weed out the weak," Lucifer said callously, casually slicing into his steak.
Hermione's hand immediately flew out, hitting his shoulder firmly to reprimand him. Her brow furrowed into a deep scowl. "How can you say something so incredibly cold?"
"Humanity has completely 'forgotten' what the law of survival of the fittest means," Lucifer responded smoothly, his dark eyes locked onto hers with absolute indifference. "And the Wizarding community is no exception to the rule."
He took a slow sip of his pumpkin juice, his gaze dropping to the elegant line of her neck. 'If we get to have children in the future, Hermione, they will grow to be unimaginably strong and intelligent because of exactly who their parents will be,' Lucifer thought quietly to himself, sending the thought slipping directly into the back of his mind.
Hermione's face instantly burned a deep, vibrant crimson. She choked slightly on her drink, her ears ringing. 'So he does want children?' she thought, her heart beating violently against her ribs as she stared down at her plate. 'I figured he would eventually... but he wants them with me... it's still so completely surreal, knowing that he feels the exact same way about me as I do about him...' A wave of profound happiness rushed through her chest, until a grim, suffocating thought suddenly slipped into her mind, freezing her blood.
'He is of the purest, most untainted celestial blood...' She thought, a cold, painful knot tightening in her stomach as she looked at her own hands. 'Do I really want to muddy that up? Do I have the right?'
A sudden, sharp wave of self-doubt and internalized shame washed over her. She had absolutely no familial history of magic, being the first person in her entire lineage to display any extraordinary abilities. She was a Muggleborn. She was a 'Mudblood.' It was a harsh, repulsive term used only by uncivilized, pure-blood buffoons, and she would never dare to utter it out loud to anyone.
Least of all, she would never tell Lucifer that she felt that way about herself. But staring at him now, majesty radiating from his posture made her own heritage feel incredibly small. Fear and deep doubt started to creep into her mind, causing her to begin rethinking everything she loved about their relationship, wondering if she had any right to "love him" at all.
Realizing she was spiraling, she fiercely shoved the dark thoughts to the absolute back of her mind, forcing her face into a neutral mask.
"By the way, have you heard?" Lucifer suddenly said, breaking her train of thought as a mischievous, wicked grin spread across his handsome features. "Last night, one of the support beams beneath the main hospital wing bed completely collapsed. Professor Umbridge moved her things out overnight and has already cleanly left the Hogwarts grounds."
Hermione blinked, completely taken aback by the news. She genuinely hadn't heard a single whisper about it from the other Prefects. "Where on earth did she go?"
"How should I know?" Lucifer shrugged carelessly, taking a bite of his food. "The woman probably realized Hogwarts is an entirely unsafe environment for a pink toad and ran off back to her desk."
"..." Hermione stared at him, her mouth opening slightly. She was honestly starting to wonder if there was a literal.curse resting upon the physical structure of the Hogwarts castle itself. Even if the Defense position was historically jinxed, could a single building truly be this wildly unlucky?
xxxxcx
The Ministry of Magic: Senior Undersecretary's Gamble
Dolores Umbridge, of course, had absolutely not fled the castle out of pure fear. She was a senior political bureaucrat, and she could easily handle minor physical setbacks like a loose brick or a faulty bed frame. However, Albus Dumbledore's chilling, quiet words from the previous night, combined with a bizarre string of immediate misfortunes plaguing her coordinates, had left her deeply unsettled.
Driven by a lingering paranoia, she had utilized the Floo network first thing in the morning, returning straight to the 'Ministry of Magic' to seek Cornelius Fudge's direct intervention.
"You want me to allocate what?"
Fudge stared incredulously across his massive polished mahogany desk, his quill hovering precariously over a stack of tax ledgers. He looked up at Umbridge, who was standing before him with an exaggerated, trembling deference, wondering if his hearing was failing him in his old age.
"Minister," Umbridge said cautiously, forcing a tight, sugary smile onto her face. "Not for my personal finances, of course. But I strongly advise the Ministry to immediately allocate emergency state funds for structural repairs to the Hogwarts Castle and the immediate replacement of certain ancient educational equipment."
"..." Fudge was left completely speechless, his green bowler hat sitting slightly askew on his head. The good news was his ears were perfectly fine. The bad news was Umbridge was genuinely standing in his office asking the government for money. "Dolores, I explicitly sent you to Hogwarts as a vanguard to weaken Dumbledore's public influence," he snapped, slamming his open palm flat against the desk with a sharp smack. "And after just 'twenty-four' hours on the ground, you are already standing here speaking on his behalf?"
She flinched violently at his sudden outburst, her hands flying up to adjust her collar. "Minister, I am not helping Dumbledore! I am helping you!" she hurried to defend herself, her voice rising into an anxious squeak.
Fudge let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, leaning back in his leather chair. "You come marching into my private office demanding a heavy purse of gold, and you call that helping me? I ought to thank your entire family for the financial ruin."
"Minister, the Hogwarts structure truly requires immediate physical repairs," Umbridge said pitifully, gesturing toward her own head. The nauseating, oversized velvet bow from the previous day was entirely gone. In its place sat a massive, ugly lump surrounded by multiple thick layers of medical gauze and white bandages. "I was violently struck by falling masonry during my very first lesson yesterday afternoon. And then, the structural support of my hospital wing bed completely disintegrated beneath me last night... If you formally approve these emergency funds, combined with aggressive 'Daily Prophet' coverage and my own vigorous promotion on the ground, the student body will surely grow incredibly grateful to the Ministry. My educational work... can proceed much more smoothly, and it would be highly beneficial in systematically undermining Dumbledore's reputation as a competent manager."
Fudge listened quietly, his anger slowly giving way to a calculating thought as an itch crept over his scalp. Umbridge's political reasoning made a great deal of sense, but something about the sheer timing of her injuries still felt incredibly off.
Sensing his lingering hesitation, Umbridge seized upon another brilliant, opportunistic argument. She stepped closer to the desk, her eyes widening with a malicious gleam. "Minister, this could also serve as the perfect, legal opportunity to uncover definitive evidence of Dumbledore's financial embezzlement! With so much gold flowing into that school every single year from the 'Board of Governors,' the old man couldn't possibly resist dipping his hands into the accounts... We can audit the entire castle under the guise of the repair work."
"Fine. I approve the draft."
Fudge finally relented, pulling a fresh slip of parchment toward himself and signing his official ministerial seal with a heavy stroke of ink. Though he highly doubted Dumbledore would ever bother to embezzle such paltry sums, it absolutely cannot hurt to launch an aggressive investigation into the school's vaults. Who knew what surprises might turn up to ruin the Headmaster's credibility?
Clutching the signed approval slip tightly in her short fingers, Umbridge held her bandaged head and skipped cheerfully out of the office, heading straight down to Gringotts to collect the gold.
xxxxxxx
By the time the afternoon hit, it was cool and breezy outside, and as they walked down the path to Hagrid's Cabin, they felt the occasional rain droplet hit their faces.
Professor Grubbly-Plank stood there, awaiting their arrival some ten yards away from his Cabin; she had a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs, but Hermione and Lucifer knew better.
As they reached Grubbly-Plank, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind; turning, they saw Slytherin walking up to her as well, Draco Malfoy, surrounded by his usual cronies, was striding over to them.
He clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and all of them were bellowing heartily as they gathered around the trestle table.
Hermione noticed they kept looking at Harry, so the subject of the joke was pretty obvious.
"----ough this subject is called Care of Magical Creatures, the first thing we should learn is how to protect ourselves from them, Mr. Malfoy'."
Draco nodded vigorously. That made perfect sense. He'd often gotten injured in the oaf's classes, and Hagrid would call him delicate for making a 'fuss' over minor wounds.
"Everyone here?" Grubbly-Plank barked at them once they had all arrived, "Let's crack on then, who can tell me what these things are called?"
Immediately, Hermione's hand shot into the air; from out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lucifer's did not. He didn't raise his hand at all yesterday, either, and that wasn't usually like him. She heard some chuckling and movement behind her, before a shriek of laughter was heard.
A second later it turned into a shriek of fear as twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood.
Parvati and Lavender made sounds of amazement, but it was hardly the most awe-inspiring thing they'd ever seen, Lucifer knew that much.
"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" Grubbly-Plank said sharply, scattering a handful of things that looked like brown rice among the creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So, anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"
"Bowtruckles," Hermione said loudly, to make herself sound, "they're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."
"Five points for Gryffindor," Grubbly-Plank said, "yes, these are Bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"
"Woodlice," Lucifer said promptly, "but they'll eat fairy eggs if they can get them."
Hermione made a dark face, including several other girls, she didn't know that.
"Excellent, take Five points as well for Gryffindor, Mr. Morningstar. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their sharp fingers," Grubbly-Plank explained.
"What a shame, Trelawney was sacked, and kept drinking in her quarters....."
A random voice was heard.
Even Professor Grubbly-Plank had a hard time keeping the corners of her mouth from rising, "If you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a bowtruckle, I have enough here for one between three---you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."
Lucifer ended up being left out of the grouping of three, but he knew the Bowtruckle thoroughly enough, so he was able to sketch one and label each body part in half an hour, the longest part being the sketch taking twenty-five minutes.
During the sketching, Harry had gone up to Grubbly-Plank, but if Lucifer had to guess, it had to do with Hagrid.
He then saw Malfoy waltz up to him and engage in brief, hushed conversation, it made him briefly remember Newt' who was expecting a 'newborn' with Tina right now, he had once said to him, Studying purely for exams, in his view, wasn't necessary at all. At worst, you could end up like him, expelled from school.
As Malfoy walked away, Lucifer's eyes glowed red for half a second, and from his angle, he had tripped, but it wasn't obvious as to why. He wasn't looking at the ferret when he caused him to trip, but Draco knew that he was the reason for it.
Every Gryffindor laughed at Draco when he did, minus Lucifer and Hermione. She found it amusing, but didn't openly laugh, her boyfriend was the one who caused it, so he knew what was coming, which caused it to negate the humor effect.
"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," Hermione said at once when Harry was back over to her and a girl with no face,"It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried, it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry."
"Ron, you are doing it all wron---"
"Shut up, you are just a background character. Don't lecture me!"
"H-How dare you?!"
Malfoy then began rambling on about things, insulting Hagrid, the usual, but it really got to Harry that time, and he almost snapped the Bowtruckle as he held it in his hands. The only reason he didn't was because it slashed his hand, leaving two gashes, and the Bowtruckle made a break for the Forest.

It didn't make it, because it was soon hoisted into the air by Lucifer, whose eyes were glowing red, and it was held in place where Grubbly-Plank could snatch it, "Thank you, Mr Morningstar, Five more points to Gryffindor."
Lucifer nodded towards her as the Slytherin all guffawed stupidly, Harry wrapping his hand in at handkerchief Hermione lent to him with a mouth splitting grin, and they marched off to 'Herbology' the moment the bell sounded.
"If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time..." Harry snarled, cleaning his palm with a dark face.
"Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, he's a Prefect, okay? He'll make your life more difficult at Hogwarts than it already is set to be this year..." Hermione said, taking back her flower printed handkerchief
which was now stained with blood.
"I know..." he conceded a moment, ignoring the lines the bloody tree had given him for no reason,"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all," Harry said in a low voice as they reached the greenhouses, "and don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" He added threateningly.
"I wasn't going to," Hermione said calmly, she had already cleaned it with her wand, and put it back.
"Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid," Harry said firmly, because he had rarely been injured in the Half-Giant's 'Care of Magical Creatures'' class, and now look at what happened.
"Well I wish I could agree, but I said this last year, Hagrid is a good teacher, but he loses his rhythm easily. Grubbly-Plank is better by definition. We've learned more in her classes than we have in his. Yes, Hagrid's are more eventful, but she's more informative," Lucifer said defiantly, he knew Harry also realised this, but was never going to admit that, ever, he did however, glare at him with a vigour.
"Can you believe it Harry? A background character tried to lecture me with her brain!" Ron was furious.
"What? You know Ron, I don't have time for your stupidity."
xxxxxxx
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