Right as he was desperately convincing himself, a shrill cry from the thestrals split the air. A moment later, entire carriage was torn apart. Pettigrew tumbled out, scraping across the dirt.
He looked up and froze.
Two figures in pointed hoods, faces masked, stood over him. Death Eaters.
Snape flicked his wand. The gag exploded with a crack, taking several of Pettigrew's teeth with it. Blood filled his mouth as he choked on a scream.
"D-don't kill me! Don't kill me!" he babbled, dropping to his knees, "I served the Dark Lord too! I gave him information, so much information! I'm one of you!"
"Because of your information, the Dark Lord died to Potter." Snape's voice was altered, but the hatred in it was real, "'Crucio."
"AAAAAHHH!"
The curse tore through Pettigrew's nerves like fire. He writhed on the ground like a maggot, screaming so loudly his voice cracked. He couldn't even faint, the pain kept dragging him back to consciousness.
Emotion fueled the curse. Without Dumbledore here to watch, without any witnesses to restrain him, Snape poured into every years of hatred, and regret pulse of the Cruciatus.
"That's enough," Lucifer said casually. "Leave it any longer and the Aurors really will freeze to death."
Reluctantly, Snape lowered his wand. He forced the convulsing Pettigrew onto his back Their eyes met for a second, Pettigrew's vision was blurry, but when he saw that look, that cold fury, he suddenly remembered that night, the one where Snape had tormented him before.
His eyes widened, "You're---"
"'Avada Kedavra."
A flash of green cut through the forest. Peter Pettigrew fell without another sound, limbs sprawled, his face still frozen in that moment of terror. Snape stood there, breathing hard for a long while before finally composing himself. His shoulders seemed lighter when he said, voice low, "Let's go."
Lucifer nodded, flicking a red beam at the frozen Auror outside the crater, then another over nine puppets of ice below. Only after that did he Apparate 'with' Snape, leaving the island behind and reappearing in Ireland.
"Professor, if you ever need me again, just say the word." By now he had dispelled his disguise with a grin, "Fair prices, honest business. Guaranteed success."
"Hmph," Snape removed his hood and snorted, "Thirty thousand points to Granger, per job? I can't afford you."
"You could look at it positively," Lucifer said, completely shameless, "Without me, never mind killing Pettigrew, you'd have been captured here today. Do you want Dumbledore to break into Azkaban to 'fetch' you?"
He said this with absolute confidence, conveniently ignoring the fact that all the Aurors' upgraded gear had been his invention to begin with. Snape had forgotten about that little detail in his revenge, so he was left speechless.
It wasn't that he hadn't fought back just now, but those Aurors had charged in relying on their 'fancy' equipment and didn't bother defending. Then, Lucifer showed up and shut them all down in one sweep.
The only downside to expensive tools is that they're expensive. Well being expensive wasn't a flaw, it was Snape's, "Where did you get a frost spell that strong?" He couldn't help but ask, his tone sour.
"Want to learn it? I can teach you." Lucifer said with a bright smile, "For that, I will deal in gold. Only fifty thousand Galleons. After that, you'll be able to 'freeze' two or three dozen Aurors into ice statues without breaking a sweat."
Even though Snape couldn't engrave magic circuits, the frost spell Lucifer had modified was already brutally strong. With his talent, mastering it wouldn't be a problem, boy really wasn't trying to scam him this time.
"How did you turn into such a money grubber?" The old bat grumbled, he genuinely didn't understand how Lucifer had changed so much overnight, like he'd been infected by the goblins at Gringotts.
"Life's expensive. If I don't make more money, how am I supposed to spoil my girlfriends this vacation? Ah, forget it, you wouldn't get it."
'Pfft---'
Snape took another invisible stab straight to the chest. With a cold flick of his cloak, he strode off, "Stop trying to squeeze money out of a poor man," he snapped. He said that, but in truth, Snape was tempted, strongly suspected Lucifer had robbed the tomb of some legendary wizard to get his hands on so many powerful spells and potions.
Galleons didn't mean much to him anyway. Maybe he should start making some real money using those "Vampire victims" and buy a few good things from Morningstar?
Smiling as he watched Severus Snape's cloak billow away into the night, Lucifer too went for Lux.
xxxxxxx
Back on the island, ice imprisoning the Aurors finally melted away. About fifteen minutes after Lucifer and Snape's departure, the ten officers stumbled out one by one. They were shaking violently and half-frozen, but at least none of them were dead. The moment the frost seals broke, everyone's noses began to run uncontrollably.
"We're done for..."
Looking at Pettigrew's already cold corpse, every Auror, whether it was Dawlish, Kingsley Shacklebolt, or the others, felt their scalp go numb.
"Why would Death Eaters kill Peter Pettigrew?" someone asked, baffled.
Shacklebolt voiced his grim suspicion.
"Because it was Pettigrew who leaked the Potters' location... and that's why the 'DarkLord died.' Those two Death Eaters were avenging their master."
But something gnawed at him. These two Death Eaters were terrifyingly strong. He couldn't match them with any of the Death Eaters out in the Wizarding World.
"Let's get back and report to the Minister," Dawlish muttered with a shiver. He was pretty sure he was coming down with a nasty cold. The others nodded without argument.
They didn't even care about Thestrals that had bolted, each of them Disapparated straight toward London. When Fudge got the report, he felt like the sky was falling. Death Eaters were still active?
His first instinct was to suppress the news. If word got out, panic would erupt, and he'd be the one taking the biggest hit. He strictly ordered the Aurors to breathe a word of it to no one. In his panic, he still managed to make the one right decision, go to Dumbledore.
Albus, who was sorting through Grimmauld Place with Sirius, froze for several seconds when he heard the news.
"What is it, Professor?" Sirius asked, noticing the shift in his expression.
"Peter Pettigrew is dead," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. "Two Death Eaters ambushed the escort on the way to Azkaban. Fortunately, the Aurors were only injured, no casualties."
Sirius went blank for a moment. Then he burst into laughter, wild, unstoppable, it was so hard that tears ran down his face, "Good. Good! He deserved it!"
Giving a weary smile, Dumbledore understood Sirius quite well. Truthfully, he also thought Pettigrew's death wasn't much of a loss. But the real issue was those two mysterious Death Eaters. To kill Pettigrew under the guard of ten Aurors... they were no ordinary enemies.
"Sirius, keep working here. I'm going to the site."
"Can I come?" Sirius quickly wiped his eyes, I just want to see his body for myself. I won't get in your way."
Dumbledore hesitated, then replied firmly. "Sorry. Fudge asked me to keep it secret. I have to go alone."
"Fine. Just... make sure it's really him," Being uneasy was expected of Sirius, to which his old Professor nodded and, following the location Fudge had given him, Apparated to the island.
Hours had passed since the attack, yet the island was still frozen near zero degrees, Dumbledore could feel the lingering magic in the air, his expression tightening. He could already picture it, the sheer force of the spell that had been cast here.
Golden dust flowed from the tip of the 'Elder Wand' like a drifting veil, sweeping across the ground.
"Appare Vestigium."
As shimmering dust moved, scenes began to form before Dumbledore's eyes, Appare Vestigium was a tracking spell one that could replay traces of magic, lingering energy, or faint echoes of what had recently happened in an area.
Of course, such magic had its limits.
Dumbledore knew well that he couldn't perfectly reconstruct the past scene; spell was more useful for gauging just how intense a battle had been. And the result didn't disappoint, though it did trouble him. A blizzard had swept across the area, and after that, the 'vision' became a blur of white and chaos.
That meant the magic had reached its limit.
"Death Eaters are this powerful now?"
He stood still for a while, thinking quietly, then turned and Apparated back to the Ministry of Magic.
"How did it go, Albus?" Fudge had been pacing anxiously. The office was empty except for him, and when Dumbledore entered, his eyes lit with hope.
"Cornelius, I'll need more leads, anything the Aurors gathered. And I'd like to bring a few of them back to Hogwarts with me... I have an item that can project their memories, perhaps it'll help us see what really happened."
"No problem. I'll come with you," Fudge said at once, eager to show initiative. He gathered five Aurors, and together they followed Dumbledore to Hogwarts.
But when they reached Headmaster's office, Fudge froze at the familiar sight of the door or rather, what was left of it. The entrance was just a splintered mess of wood again. Hadn't there been an ugly stone gargoyle guarding this place a few days ago? He'd seen it plenty of times on his visits.
"Albus, what in Merlin's name happened here? Did it have to be repaired again?"
Dumbledore gave an embarrassed smile, "Actually, I had given the Gargoyle summer holidays, I didn't think anyone would come by during the break, but here you are Cornelius, two times no less..."
Fudge was left equally, utterly thrown off. After a long, awkward silence, he managed, "You're... very considerate. If Hogwarts ever runs low on funds, just tell me. I'll do what I can to get the budget approved, I promise I won't back down this time..."
"Much appreciated," Dumbledore said mildly, he didn't dwell on the embarrassing topic. Instead, he led everyone inside, took out Pensieve, and showed the Aurors how to extract the specific memories he needed.
Then he guided Fudge through viewing as vividly as being there in person. When his head lifted from the silvery surface, his face had gone paper-white, "Monstrous," he muttered repeatedly, "Absolutely horrifying..."
The Aurors looked grim. They'd been powerless, defensive enchantments had shattered in seconds, and then they'd been frozen solid, consciousness sinking into blackness.
When they came to, the attackers were simply gone.
"Thank Merlin those Death Eaters didn't mean to kill us," One thought out loud, which was what his colleagues were also moping. "Otherwise none of us would've made it back alive...."
Death Eaters? These were more like dark lords in their own right, and came themselves to kill Pettigrew.
"Try not to worry too much, Cornelius," Dumbledore said gently, "They caught you off guard. The Ministry's Aurors are capable, they'll handle things."
In the back, Kingsley Shacklebolt silently shook his head. "Handle things? Yeah, right. No way in hell, I'm handling people like them."
"Albus, you have to find culprits," Fudge said urgently his tongue nearly twisting in agitation, "People like that are far too dangerous."
"I'll do my best," Dumbledore replied, hesitating, paying low heed, "But you know how difficult it is to track two people who don't wish to be found."
"I trust you, Albus."
Once the Ministry group had gone, Dumbledore stood in the quiet, staring out into the dark night. He didn't head to bed, instead, he Disapparated again this time to Spinner's End, where a certain Professor resided.
xxxxxx
"So late, and you're not afraid of disturbing my rest?"
Snape opened the door with a scowl, letting Dumbledore in. His house was small two stories, maybe eighty square meters each, and filled with the smell of potion fumes. A row of cauldrons bubbled in the sitting room, heating the air to a sticky warmth.
"Brewing potions? That many?"
Dumbledore asked, ignoring the biting tone.
Though clearly unwelcoming, Snape poured him a mug of hot cocoa, muttering, "I had an idea and decided to test it. Or are you planning to regulate my holiday schedule too?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore said, smiling, "I'm no Muggle capitalist. Just showing a little concern for my professor...."
"I'm touched," Snape said dryly. "Now, aside from your concern, do you have an actual reason for being here?" As he spoke, he realized his palms were damp with sweat. The Dark Lord's moods could shift like a storm everyone who'd served him had lived in fear. Except for the truly mad ones.
But Dumbledore was different. Always calm, always kind, which somehow made him even more unsettling.
"I bring bad news. Oh, no, perhaps to you it's 'good' news," he corrected himself with a faint smile, "Peter is dead. Two Death Eaters ambushed the prison transport to avenge Voldemort."
Snape's hand paused midair, his cup hovering for a beat before he let out a short, satisfied laugh. It vanished almost as quickly, "You should never have handed him to the Ministry," he said sharply. "If you'd let me deal with him, there'd have been no fuss... I imagine Fudge is tearing his hair out right now?"
"Quite right," Dumbledore admitted. "He's asked me to find the culprits as soon as possible."
"Then why come to me?" Snape slammed his cup down, splashing cocoa onto the table, "You think I killed the rat?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore said quickly, holding up both hands, denying promptly, "But you used to have... 'connections'. I hoped you might recognize something. One of the attackers wielded powerful ice magic; the other was very skilled with curses. Any names come to mind?"
Snape frowned, carefully thinking, "My rank among the Death Eaters was never high, the old ones outranked me. But... perhaps Alex, Gibbon, or Rodolphus Lestrange. They could manage something like that."
"They're all in Azkaban."
"Then I don't know," he said simply.
Nodding, with a touch of faint disappointment, and regret, "All right. I'll find another way." Dumbledore turned toward the door.
But Snape however called after him, raising his cup in farewell, "You've never cared for this sort of political mess. Why the sudden interest?"
"Fudge was... very insistent," Dumbledore said with a sigh. Then he added, calmly, "Still, I doubt those two will act again. They've achieved what they wanted, give it all fade away. Don't you agree, Severus?"
"Politicians always forget," He said curtly, still raising his cup in a lazy toast, "Safe travel."
"Goodbye. See you when term starts."
'Bang!'
The door slammed shut, Snape sat back down, sipping cup after cup of tea, perfectly composed at least on the surface. When he was certain Dumbledore was gone for good, he slumped into the couch, his back drenched with sweat
"That old bastard..." he muttered under his breath.
xxxxxx
Walking down the dark, narrow streets, Dumbledore let out a long sigh. Not every truth needed to be spoken aloud, and not every crime needed evidence, he already knew who had done it.
To put it bluntly, there wasn't a single wizard in Britain he hadn't watched grow up. He knew their strengths, their temperaments, their limits.
Forget the Death Eaters across entire country, only a handful could unleash magic of that scale: Moody, a few of the old guard from the 'first' Order of the Phoenix... and that was about it.
Add in motive, and it was obvious. One attacker had to be Snape, second... was Lucifer. Of course, in Dumbledore's mind, he had probably gone to the boy for help.
Still, knowing and accusing were two different things, he couldn't point fingers without proof, and even if he had it, he wouldn't act.
The guilty were dead, the Aurors alive and unharmed. That was a balance he could live with, he'd offered Snape a subtle warning a quiet reminder not to take things too far. Let this be the end of it.
What unsettled him, though, was Lucifer's progress. The boy's strength was skyrocketing, he had single handedly taken down ten trained Aurors in seconds. In the memories Dumbledore had seen, Snape barely did anything.
"I really need to start paying more attention to my students' mental well-being," he murmured to himself with a resignated sign. With a crack, he vanished into the shadows of 'Spinner's End.'
xxxxxx
Elsewhere, Lucifer received a warning message from Snape.
『Severus Snape』: Dumbledore came to me, he already suspects us. Keep your mouth shut. As long as we don't admit anything, he's got nothing to say.
『Lucifer Morningstar』: Us?
『Lucifer Morningstar』: Professor, you're the one who did the killing, I'm just an innocent student caught in the crossfire. I have no idea what you're talking about.
Ignoring the furious string of messages that followed, Lucifer went right back to his midnight snack and soap opera. He'd never expected to hide anything from Dumbledore anyway, the man had been a genius centuries before most wizards figured out how to tie their robes.
But Lucifer wasn't worried. He'd already figured Dumbledore out: as long as you didn't cross a moral line, he'd let you dance around as you pleased. Honestly, the old man was probably giddy right now.
After all, what had he done tonight?
He'd stood up for his professor. Risked his neck against the Ministry's Auror, all for the sake of loyalty and affection. That was the kind of thing Dumbledore loved to see: a student driven by emotion, by care, by connection.
So, let the Head of Slytherin stew in paranoia, Lucifer had every intention of enjoying his well-earned break. Unfortunately, his second morning of blissful laziness was cut short by a knock on the door. Amelia Bones was standing there, looking worn-out and travel stained, but managed a tired smile, "I'm here to give you more money again, Hon."
"That so?"
"A hundred enchanted cloaks, a hundred 'Eyes of Warning, and," She was finding it hard to say, hesitated, grimacing, "The Ministry's asking for twenty of your top-tier guardian amulets. I know you usually refuse to sell those, but Fudge gave me strict orders. I have to bring back at least twenty. Please?"
She looked genuinely embarrassed. After all, she was asking him to break his own rule. 'Ah, my dear, honest Hufflepuff Amelia.' Lucifer suddenly realized, outside of tech and finance, arms dealing was a goldmine too. No wonder some countries were so fond of helping other nations start wars.
This time, he was getting paid in Galleons and House points from both sides: 'Snape's revenge and the Ministry's panic.'
'It's always War,' he thought, 'The most efficient way to redistribute wealth.' A wicked little thought flickered through his mind for the status of half-bloods and muggle borns, then quickly smothered it. No point letting that grow, for now, it was better to focus on business. Putting on a look of surprise, he said, "That's quite a big order out of nowhere. I'll need some time to prepare."
"As soon as possible," Amelia said quickly, though she understood the process of difficulty, after all she herself was curious and went down the lab to see, "It's urgent."
"What happened?" Lucifer asked, feigning curiosity.
After again pondering for a moment, she came forward, her knees and bottom curves of the stomach touched the bedframe, resting a palm over her soon to be 'first' baby, she sighed. She wasn't supposed to tell him, Fudge had made that clear but Lucifer was not just her husband, but her supplier. Hiding it from him felt pointless, even wrong. The public deserved to know anyway.
When she finally told him, he just stared blankly, then smacked a copy of 'The DailyProphet' onto the table.
"This? Seriously? You're acting like it's a state secret, it's literally on the front page."
Her brows turned peculiar, Amelia leaned over, saw the headline, and couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. It was complicated-half self-mockery, with disbelief at the Ministry and Fudge's utter incompetence.
The so-called "top-secret" information that the Minister had ordered sealed off was now blaring on the front page of The Daily Prophet. {Death Eaters Return! Peter Pettigrew Silenced Forever!}
The article didn't go into much detail, but the essentials were dead accurate: two Death Eaters had attacked and killed Pettigrew while he was under Auror protection. That alone was enough to make Fudge stomp and scream in his office.
"I'm sorry, Lucifer, you know, I've been at the Ministry all night right? Coordinating searches, I didn't even have time to glance at a newspaper... The reason we're buying from you in such a rush, is that the Aurors were the ones insisting on it... They had realized how useful your gear is after Grindelwald but kept quiet, but now seeing this, Ministry wants to issue an official partnership with you."
"And the guardian necklaces?" Lucifer asked with a skeptical tilt of his head, "You make it sound noble, but I doubt the Ministry's suddenly generous enough to hand out premium equipment...."
At that, Amelia looked visibly awkward, he wanted to tell her to rest for two or three hours in bed together, "Well... let's just say many people are very 'scared' right now. The Ministry will pay part of the cost, and, um... some private donations will cover the rest."
Lucifer's lips curved, "For your sake, Mrs. Morningstar, I can sell a batch of guardian amulets. But the crafting process is extremely difficult, rare materials, immense concentration, and a high 'failure' rate. Naturally, the price won't be low."
He held up one hand, spreading his fingers, "Five thousand Galleons apiece. If they agree, I'll release the stock I have. If they want to bargain, even one Galleon less, I'm not selling."
Amelia was literally startled by the price, her pretty eyes widened. That was nearly her entire annual salary, even counting bonuses. But thinking of the necklace's legendary defense and built-in emergency 'Apparition' feature, she couldn't say it was unreasonable, 'foreign' Ministries' kept disturbing her with bribes, to make good words to Morningstar.
"I'll tell Fudge," She said finally, not wanting to make a rash decision on behalf of others, "Those necklaces are worn by both me, Evelyn and Crouch in there, so it's natural they want... Ahem, anyways, what about the rest of the order?"
"Three days," Lucifer replied easily, but shifted position on the mattress, when her figure now stood close to the legs, and thumb rubbing over his right knee, "You'll have everything then."
"Hehe, Love you," Next, a beaming Amelia kissed him straight, her body crawling over, to make up for the bad feelings she had internally, and he merely glared at the woman before pouncing over her left breast.
xxxxxx
Lucifer returned to his lab.
He already had plenty of enchanted cloaks and guardian necklaces in stock; only the 'Eyes of Warning' needed fresh production. Those had always been a bit underwhelming anyway, someone with Anti-tracking charms or concealment magic could disable them.
Like Snape, for instance. The Eye hadn't gone off until the man was already mid-attack.
Lucifer had better designs on paper, of course, but he couldn't be bothered to build them. Too much work, more haggling, and stress. The current version would do, if Amelia somehow got hands on it next time she was here, then left to the future, he would make a good for his own people.
He always kept a system: one batch in use, one in reserve, one under development. The guardian necklaces were the same, two new versions were already in progress, so the old ones were perfect to sell off.
The next day, Amelia came back, this time with good news and a heavy bag of gold. 'A hundred and ten thousand' Galleons in total. Of that, the cloaks and the Eyes barely made up seven thousand, Lucifer couldn't help but let out a snort, "Ah, the rich are such easy customers, poor Hermione thinks I will run out of gold..."
It had only been a few days into his vacation, and he'd already cleared over six hundred thousand Galleons in total sales. He handed over the goods right away, no delays, the 'first' batch, and Amelia left soon after.
These days, the 'Daily Prophet' article had hit the wizarding world like a curse. Old fears came rushing back.
Wizards started avoiding anyone wearing a pointed hat. People tiptoed through their own homes, wondering if their loved ones might be under the 'Imperius Curse,' ready to whisper a deadly green spell while they slept.
And the Dark Mark, no one even dared speak of it. The sight of it in the sky was still a nightmare that could empty an entire town in minutes.
Fear hadn't vanished, only slept. And now, Peter Pettigrew's death had woken it again, a brutal reminder that Voldemort's servants were still out there..The Ministry's owl room overflowed with letters. Every other witch and wizard claimed to have spotted a suspicious person. Aurors were stretched to the limit, chasing ghosts and wasting manpower, and least they were earning bonus through Arkham Asylum's networks.
Diagon Alley was deserted, parents had forbidden their children to go out. Even though it was summer break, young witches and wizards were practically grounded, which only made usage of WhatsApp to the extreme, and kept running out of pages to write.
Fudge didn't even have time to worry about Crouch anymore. Surviving this panic came first. He ordered investigations into every likely suspect, Lucius Malfoy, Grahams, Nott, Avery. They had all escaped punishment once, but everyone knew the truth behind it.
Scrimgeour led the raids personally, knocking on doors and making friendly visits. The purebloods were 'furious', but Fudge let him continue. Normally, he would have been bending over backward to calm his donors. But now? He was too busy protecting his seat.
If Rufus's intimidation kept them quiet, all the better. He even brought Dumbledore in for help. The old man agreed immediately, he didn't want Snape's little act of revenge spiraling into a full-blown crisis.
And it worked. After two days of his reassuring presence in Diagon Alley, the public calmed considerably.
When Dumbledore was around, Death Eaters didn't seem nearly as frightening. Bit by bit, normal order returned. Fudge, though relieved, began to feel something else too-unease, the old man's influence was enormous.
If wielded properly, it stabilized the Ministry... but what if, one day, Dumbledore decided he wanted chair for himself? Or supporting someone else to be the Minister? No! Wasn't he already just a figurehead? Fudge realised he had bad habits of removing old memories which didn't favour him.
Lucifer, meanwhile, ignored the chaos outside. He handed off the last batch of goods to Amelia on the third day and started preparing for his trip to Granger's first. "At home, you'll listen to your mother," he told Daphne seriously, "Don't lose your wand again in the swings. I'll be checking your assignments when I get back, understood?"
Only Daphne could make him sound this much like a worried parent.
The teenage witch nodded at first, then immediately threw herself at Lucifer's arm, her face full of reluctant pleading. "Can't you take me with you? I'll be very obedient like a good girl."
"....Didn't you girls make a schedule?Besides, if you go, what about your cute sister?"
"I can come too!" Astoria blinked her big eyes eagerly. "I'll look after Daphne!"
That logic was a bit off, but older Greengrass jumped on it immediately, she nodded enthusiastically, praising Astoria to the mood while she did, "Right, If we both go, it'll be fine!"
Lucifer groaned and raised his hands in surrender, "Spare me, will you? I barely got home for the holidays, and you want me to pack you both up and run off again? Your mother would have my head..."
xxxxxx
Molly did not hold back on her praise, leaving the rest of the Weasleys dumbfounded.
Percy clearly remembered she was writing to him earlier, telling to stop Lucifer and Ginny from getting close. Now her attitude had done a complete turn like a pancake, he blurted out in disbelief, "Mum, didn't you say,"
"Percy, that's enough!" Molly cut him off sharply, "Lucifer is such a good child. He even received a 'First Class Order of Merlin'. Such an incredible achievement, isn't it? Being friends with such an outstanding boy will only make Ginny better. Don't interfere in your sister's affairs anymore."
Ginny pulled faces smugly at her brothers. Why had Molly changed so drastically? Because she had confessed everything about Scabbers, and made sure to emphasize how much Lucifer had done, (certain parts involving murder, being smacked or hung up aside)
It was because of 'Peter Pettigrew.'
Ron had been too embarrassed to tell his family that his pet rat, Scabbers, was actually a man, a Death Eater, no less, so they hadn't known the truth until the public trial.
When 'The Daily Prophet' published every detail, the Weasleys had been horrified. The real traitor who betrayed the Potters had been hiding in their home for over a decade.
Percy Weasely had ran straight to the bathroom to vomit. Ron had only owned the rat for two years, but before that, Peter Pettigrew had been his pet for longer.
Everyone else went pale at the thought. The idea that a murderer who'd blown up a street and killed thirteen Muggles had been living under their roof made their skin crawl. The twins were punished harder than they had been in years, second only to one time they convinced Ron to jump off the third-floor balcony when he was six.
They'd had the 'Marauder's Map' for nearly two years, yet somehow never noticed anything strange about Ron's constant companion.
Lucifer, meanwhile, had uncovered Pettigrew's secret within weeks.
Knowing they were in the wrong, Fred and George had decided to treat Ron unusually well all summer, to share pocket money, bringing him souvenirs, trying to make up for it.
xxxxxx
Back at the Granger household, even during breakfast, Lucifer worked overtime trying to convince the two parents that the magical world was stable now and also educate on wizard combat. Or rather, power scaling. That part was tricky, there was no clear ranking system to refer to, so he had to keep emphasizing how overwhelmingly strong Dumbledore was.
It would be easier in the future, he was already drafting a standardized class system for wizards. After eating his buttery toast, before heading to Potter, he flicked his girlfriend Hermione on the forehead.
"Ow! You jerk!"
"That's what you get for talking too much...."
Stucking out her tongue playfully to show her irritation, but Hermione knew she'd said too much the past few days and freaked her family out, "Hmph, okay I won't do it again."
She rose on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the nose as an offering of apology. Only then did Lucifer head outside the door, satisfied.
Sirius had purchased 'Number Six, Privet Drive', and he was invited.
Harry felt as though the misery of his first eleven years had been payment for this single stroke of happiness. A short walk to his godfather's home, returning only at night to sleep under the blood protection of the Dursleys' roof. He barely needed to interact with them at all. In some ways, it 'felt' better than Hogwarts.
Well, it would be equal to Hogwarts if Snape resigned. As Lucifer spooned up a scoop of Unicorn's Dream, he remarked lightly, at the nameplate, "I thought you'd have hexed them."
"I did too," Harry admitted goofily, this summer break was turning out to be the best, "But he never even drew his wand. If he had, Uncle Vernon wouldn't have dared raise his voice."
"Of course I didn't," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair, "They may not treat you warmly, but they've fed you, clothed you, and even take you back every summer. Merlin's beard, after I ran away at sixteen, my mother never came for me again. Every holiday I stayed with James...I can see they hate your magic, not you as a person. They didn't want our world, but they still raised you. They're not saints, but they didn't betray you either."
Harry lowered his head thoughtfully.
Lucifer looked at Sirius with surprise, not expecting him to be such a level headed, "You're far more sensible than Professor Snape ever claims."
Sirius froze, teeth grinding. "That greasy git would never say a good word about me. And I still don't understand what the Sorting Hat was thinking, putting you in Slytherin."
"Truly tragic, I was born a Hufflepuff."
The boy made a sigh of dramatically shaking his face at the marble.
The look on Sirius's face suggested he wanted to argue that Lucifer's readiness to escalate any conflict made him a perfect Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff was perhaps the 'least' plausible option imaginable.
But he let it pass.
"Lucifer, how about I buy you a Firebolt too?" Sirius suddenly suggested, "Call it a small token of thanks. If you ever need anything else, just say the word."
"No need," Lucifer replied with a smile, he had already been offered quite a lot of gifts from him at the penthouse, "I already have one. If you want to thank me, tell me how you made the 'Marauder's Map.' And perhaps make a good on your promise to copy 'Black family' library for me."
"Done." Not even a shred of hesitation came across Sirius's face, selling his family out, "I'll take you to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. You can have whatever you want. Take my mother's portrait too, if you fancy."
Harry visibly flinched. He had seen the 'fury' of Walburga Black's portrait. Removing it would be an act of war.
The rest of their time passed with Sirius enthusiastically explaining the Map's creation. Harry lasted only a few minutes before drifting off into a daze, staring out the window, he could finally relax. Lucifer, meanwhile, listened intently, committing overlooked details to memory.
xxxxxx
When the matter of Pettigrew went down after a week, Percy sent out his job application via owl early in the morning. When Nazuna brought the letter into hos bedroom, Lucifer was eating breakfast while the TV played 'Seinfeld' on an independent station.
There still weren't many programs on the Lumine-Lens. Aside from live Quidditch broadcasts and replays, only two radio shows had been converted to livestream format, and they just chatted about trivial news.
Recently, though, The 'Daily Prophet'
planned to start a new show and was recruiting hosts. Rita Skeeter was determined to land that position, she came to butter Lucifer up every single day, he glanced at the teen, Nazuna was wearing her favourite star patterned open chested crop top, baggy shorts, and an oversized dark cape, perfectly capturing the duality of her character.
Representing a nocturnal predatory aesthetic that was both playful and protective, beautifully bridging her cheeky, devil may care personality with her twenty years old vampire identity. With that cape, she was like a reclusive creature of the wild night hiding from world.
Lucifer took a sip of milk, set the glass down, he whistled at her knee high socks, the girl had no panties on, "You know, you're missing a pretty.... 'crucial' layer of insulation today."
Nazuna smirked, completely unfazed. She widened her ankles, the hem of her baggy shorts shifting slightly, giving him a view of her folds, "Please, As if a little breeze could bother me... Besides, it keeps things interesting, don't you think?" She tossed Percy's newly delivered letter onto his lap, "Here. Some owl nearly crashed into the window delivering this garbage. You owe me a cocky snack for acting as your mail carrier."
He picked up Percy's letter, and tore it open. What, it was addressed to Crouch? So what. There's nothing wrong with screening mail for your subordinates.
"Help yourself to the 'fridge."
"You know what I mean Dad, need to rip off those boxers."
"Let me check first, here eat this toast, I made these especially for your Mom's liking...." Meanwhile, Lucifer was reading with a perfectly clear conscience, but the longer he did, the more his expression twisted. Percy's wording was... kind of nauseating, his face twisted in pure disgust.

Nazuna hopped onto the edge of the mattress, peering over his shoulder with an amused pout. She snatched a piece of toast from his breakfast tray, taking a sharp, crunching bite.
"Wow. 'It would be my utmost, foundational honor to serve under your esteemed guidance,'" She read aloud over his shoulder, mimicking a pompous British accent, then gagged dramatically, wiping imaginary dust off her tongue, "Gross. Is this what wizards do for fun? This guy sounds like he wants to polish Crouch's shoes with his own hair..."
"Yeah, nope, not finishing that..." Lucifer shook his head, put the letter away, and dialed Crouch via video call. It connected within a few seconds, "Mr. Morningstar?" Judging from the background, Crouch was already at the Ministry.
He got straight to the point, "I'm recommending a talent, Percy Weasley, he just graduated this year, wishes to work at the Ministry. Twelve Outstanding OWLS, and his NEWTs are about the same. I'm confident he'll make your workload a lot lighter..."
Crouch immediately understood what he meant, Percy wasn't one of them.
He could work like a mule on Ministry logistics, but he wasn't touching anything classified. Weasley... Arthur's kid, right?
"I understand," he replied steadily, accepting the matter. Then added, "Sir, regarding broadcast rights for the World Cup, there are some developments I need to report..."
Once the call ended and Percy's fate as a Ministry mule was sealed, Lucifer stretched, looking up at the clock. It was pushing 9'o in the morning, and the bright sunlight was beginning to stream directly through the glass.
He glanced back at Nazuna, who was now dramatically draping her heavy dark cape over her head to block out the morning glare, looking like a grumpy, oversized bat.
"Hermione's going to be here any minute," Lucifer said, walking over to his wardrobe to change into his casual day clothes, "Are you going to hide upstairs in the dark library, or terrify my overachiever?"
Peeking out from beneath the dark fabric, her sharp fangs were catching the light as she flashed a cheeky grin, "Oh, I'm absolutely staying. Someone needs to make sure your little star pupil... doesn't bore you to death. Just promise me we can turn off this 'Seinfeld' show. The laugh track is giving me a headache..."
Didn't have to wait long before Hermione arrived, today she wore a white blouse and a classic British plaid pleated skirt, the kind of youthful energy that had nowhere to hide, Lucifer greeted her with a hug.
They lazed around the house naked for a while, until the bushy haired girl was flushed, breathless, and hair messy. Only then did Lucifer finally let her go, Nazuna 'was' peeping secretly from up her abode.
Leaning against him and waiting for her breathing to settle, Hermione asked, "My parents won't get off work until after 'five'. What are we doing during the day?"
"Shopping first," he said after a moment, "And I'll be joining you for Dinner anyway, so we might as well pick up some gifts..."
xxxxxx
The Thames was the mother river of London, and even of all England. These days it had practically become a national symbol. All the glittering prosperity and dizzy nightlife bloomed along its banks.
Though modern Britain had clearly
reached its sunset years and looked ready to split apart into a tiny England without Northern Ireland or Scotland, the Thames itself had actually recovered.
During the Industrial Age it was a famously foul river. People had to cover their noses just to walk past, and aquatic life was basically extinct.
After World War II, decades of clean-up and de-industrialization slowly restored its clarity. A few years ago the sudden appearance of salmon caused a minor sensation, and some media outlets even claimed the Thames was almost drinkable.
Lucifer did not believe a word of that. Other than 'Page Three Girls from The Sun,' everything else was fake. But taking a boat tour was at least perfectly safe.
"I still can't believe it... sixty pounds for one ticket. Sure it includes lunch, but if you convert that to Galleons, that's ten!" On a cruise boat, Hermione was still hurting over how much he had just spent. She knew he had money, but it still felt like a rip-off.
"This is actually normal," Lucifer said with a smile as he brushed her messy hair back into place, "There aren't many tourist spots in England. Sit here for three hours and you could just about set off to another country. And trust me, the vendors at World Cup are every bit as ruthless as Muggles. You'll see.."
They enjoyed the riverside scenery as boat set out from Westminster Pier: Big Ben, Parliament, Abbey, the Royal Festival Hall, and finally ended at Greenwich Pier. At the final stop, cruise began its return trip and lunch was served.
The food wasn't even close to Hogwarts elf cooking, but Lucifer didn't bother swapping anything out. He and Hermione just picked at it casually. Dates with your girlfriend usually fall into two categories. The first was actually going out to have fun: best views, interesting places, authentic food.
The second was about "romance" and ceremony. The food didn't matter, the important part was the process and the atmosphere.
At moments like that you must never kill the mood by criticizing the food or the setting. Just go along with what she wanted to hear. Compliments were free, Lucifer followed the rules.
Hermione's bright eyes turned dewy, and she looked like she was floating. She had long forgotten her complaints about the ticket price.
Three hours later they got off the boat, still wishing it wasn't over and wanting time to freeze right before the moment ended.
"Where are we going next?"
"First a movie, then gift shopping."
He had everything planned out already. Corny but effective: food, shopping, movie, it was simple, reliable, no mistakes.
They stopped at a nearby cinema. Today's film was 'Four Weddings and a Funeral,' starring Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell, one of this year's big hits in Britain, a lighthearted rom-com. When they stepped out of the theater, she hugged her boyfriend's arm and asked curiously, "Lucifer, will the wizarding world ever have its own movies?"
"Definitely," he said without hesitation, "It'll just take time. Once wizards get fully used to Lumine-Lens, all kinds of art will follow. And if nobody gets it started, I'll write something myself and set an example..."
Wizards had a massive advantage in 'filmmaking.' Never mind acting and scripts, production alone would be leagues faster than Muggles. You could use "Transfiguration" to build sets, and never worry about special effects. Spells, sparks, laser-like beams were more than enough spectacles.
"What would you write?" Hermione asked, genuinely interested, "Something like the movie we just watched?"
"No." Lucifer shook his head, "I'll write about life at Hogwarts. I already have the title, It'll be called 'Hogwarts: Please Let me Bake!' I'll fulfill my dream of being a Hufflepuff."
Hermione Granger burst out laughing, clinging to him as she bent over. Lucifer, a Huffle-puff? She couldn't find a single similarity. If absolutely had to pick one... maybe they both liked eating?
But if food was the criteria, Daphne was the true badger. Every time she saw Greengrass girl, she had snacks in her hands and that bottomless, 'Extension-Charmed' pouch of hers. Nobody knew how much food was hidden inside.
xxxxxx
After a few days,
"I got it! I got it!"
The Burrow was unusually lively that morning. Percy's shout startled the whole Weasley family halfway through breakfast.
Ron jumped and sloshed milk down his pants, Ginny snapped awake, and the twins nearly choked on their toast. Mrs. Weasley spilled half a ladle of baked beans.
"Percy, what did you 'get'?" Molly's eyes lit up. "Did we win the Daily Prophet jackpot again?"
"No, not that! My job-it's official." Percy's hands trembled as he clutched the letter, "I've been appointed Senior Assistant to Mr. Crouch. I start next week!"
Arthur who worked at the Ministry himself, set down his coffee in surprise, "Percy, are you sure it says senior assistant?"
"Of course, Dad." Percy puffed out his chest.
"That's wonderful, dear!" Molly grabbed him in a hug. "I knew it, you really are the most outstanding of my children. Just like Bill and Charlie."
Fred and George said in unison, "What about us?!"
"When I see your report cards, we'll talk." She shot them a glare, then suddenly frowned, "Wait. The NEWT results haven't been released yet. How are you getting a Ministry acceptance letter first?"
Percy's eyes darted around, then he quickly found a justification. "Mum, my grades are consistent. I've been in contact with the Ministry for ages, just didn't know the exact post until now."
Molly didn't suspect a thing and showered him with praise. Arthur, however, gave Percy a very long look.
Ginny was eyeing him strangely too.
Breakfast barely ended before Percy bolted upstairs, eager to share his achievement with his classmates by owl. He didn't notice that a shadow followed him, the moment he closed his door, Ginny slipped inside like an eel, leaving him blinking.
"Ginny? What do you want?"
Arms crossed, she gave him a little smirk, "I want nothing. But you do. Percy... the day you were looking for Lucifer on the train, that was about your job, wasn't it?"
Percy stiffened instantly, though he tried to sound casual. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just chatted with him a bit. Lucifer is prefect material, maybe even 'Head Boy' potential, so I shared some experience."
"Percy, you sound like a Malfoy when you talk like that." Ginny looked at him like he was something sticky on her shoe, "You, giving Lucifer advice? Please, a word from him and you're starting work weeks before anyone else and landing Crouch as your direct superior. Who are you kidding?"
Being roasted by his little sister turned Percy's face so red it nearly matched his hair. But badmouthing Lucifer? He didn't dare, after seeing how fast things moved, even he understood that boy was exactly the kind of great man he admired.
If Ginny mentioned his whining to Morningstar, he'd be dropped back to earth instantly.
"I-I just want to get better," Percy finally mumbled, deflated, "So I asked him for a small favor."
"Last time," Ginny said, raising her fists, "I don't want you bothering Lucifer again or else." She was angry. The girls around Lucifer all brought something to the table: Greengrass with her family power, Hermione with her brains, Davis already running part of his Workshop, Bones was a better Duelists, her future as the Head of the 'Magical Law Enforcement,' was promising.
Abbott had cooking, that French Vella had the body to die for? And her? Not only did she do nothing to help, but her family actually went to Lucifer for it--without even asking her first?!
"What do you take me for?!" Percy snapped, breathing hard, ears and neck bright red now. "I don't want shortcuts! I just want to do better!"
"Then make sure you do," Sniffing, Ginny left the room, abandoning a thoroughly overheated Percy. She needed to send Lucifer a message. Not just to thank him, but to tell him not to help her brother anymore.
It wasn't until the afternoon that he replied: just an OK hand emoji... and a photo of a pyramid.
"My little dark witch doesn't even realize her own value... sigh. I'll prepare something interesting for her after I get back from Cairo."
xxxxxxx
Egypt, Cairo
In June, London was only just slipping into summer. Daytime highs hovered around twenty-four or twenty-five degrees, making it one of the most comfortable stretches of the year.
Egypt was a different story. June here meant full-blown summer. Ground temperatures above forty degrees were nothing unusual. The sun beat down on the golden land, and the faintest breeze kicked up dust until the air itself seemed to shimmer and warp from the heat.
Lucifer and Hermione strolled down a Cairo street hand in hand, both wearing wide-brimmed straw hats. Even the drifting dust seemed to know better to cling to them, parting around their steps.
And their hats weren't normal. They kept body temperature steady and blocked UV rays, side products of Lucifer's research into making space survival practical for wizards, conveniently repurposed for vacation.
Compared to London's dense mix of modernity and leftover Elizabethan architecture, Cairo looked underdeveloped. Even so, the Islamic aesthetics that dominated city had their own striking artistic beauty, especially here in the old quarter, where Cairo's charm was laid bare.
This was Khan el-Khalili, the most iconic bazaar in the Middle East, sprawling through dozens of narrow alleys with over fourteen centuries of history behind it. After winding through the lively market, he stopped in front of a shop whose sign was on the verge of falling off.
"Think, it should be right? Come on."
He led Hermione across the street, pulled open the door, and stepped forward. It felt like passing through a waterfall. Instead of entering the shop, they emerged onto an even older street.
"Whoa..."
Hermione's eyes went wide as the amazement slipped out of her, everything was brilliantly strange. The buildings were made entirely of white stone, the ground was too, spotless and gleaming. Shops lined both sides, stacked with everything from clothes to strange trinkets. Small vendors led camels down the road, each sitting cross-legged on a carpet in front of piles of bizarre goods she couldn't even name.
"This is the Heka Corridor," Lucifer said with a bright grin, "Biggest wizard gathering spot in North Africa. Egypt's bigger than Britain, and its wizard population's too. But because the country's not evenly developed, most wizards... end up living around Cairo. Add in from a bunch of neighboring countries, and it gets way busier than Diagon Alley. We could lose a few days here easily."
Hermione's face lit up. "I already want to start shopping. As long as we register with the Ministry first, we're free to explore, right?"
They'd traveled to Egypt the Muggle way, but most places they planned to visit were magical territory. Registering kept them from being counted as illegal entrants.
"Not the Ministry," he corrected her, "Gringotts." Pointing ahead, in the center of the Corridor stood a massive building. It dwarfed everything else around it, both height and size.
"That's Gringotts...?" Hermione stared, wearing a hat of her own, "Why would foreign wizard registration go through them?"
Lucifer was already walking steps ahead of her, which told her to do the same in keeping up, "Because this is Egypt. It used to be the headquarters of Gringotts... Goblins have way more authority here than in Britain. Working for Gringotts is every Egyptian wizard's dream future. From birth to death, nobody escapes its influence...So, eventually the Ministry just gave up and handed over most of its power. They keep a shell of respectability and that's it."
Hermione quietly followed, feeling like her worldview had just been smashed to pieces. 'The Ministry... controlled by goblins? It sounded ridiculous, but it was reality.'
Egypt hadn't produced a powerful wizard in years, and goblin influence grew stronger every day. And with money calling the shots and generations of slow cultural drift, Egyptian wizards no longer saw anything unusual about it. If the pay was steady, and better every year, who cared who the boss was?
They walked toward Gringotts while merchants shouted and haggled. Hermione mentally bookmarked several shops to return to after they registered.
They even passed the local enforcers. Each wore a flowing white robe embroidered with gold at the sleeves and a golden Galleon symbol: unmistakably Gringotts personnel. None carried wands, classic Uagadou spellcasting, all hand gestures.
After about fifteen minutes, they reached the doors.
Gringotts' entrance was shaped like an enormous balance scale. The left tray served as the entrance, the right as the exit. Everyone had to stand still for a moment, only after the guard nodded could they proceed.
Lucifer and Hermione stepped onto the entrance tray. The base lit up with a sharp red glow.
"Foreigners, huh?" The goblin at the desk didn't even glance up. "Right side after you enter, second floor, queue for registration."
Hermione took a step, but the boy's hand closed around her wrist, stopping her. His voice was cool and flat as it cut through the noise to the goblin's ears.
"I'm Lucifer Morningstar."
That's it.
A few minutes later, he and Granger were respectfully escorted by two goblins into a luxurious lounge, where a house-elf immediately served tea and pastries.
In the Wizarding world, Lucifer was absolutely a celebrity, exactly the sort that would make even Lockhart jealous. And his fame wasn't just local; it stretched across the globe, especially in Europe and North America.
Among the living, he was basically top-tier, second only to Dumbledore.
Not that anyone could help it, Dumbledore had spent decades developing his reputation. His name was printed in countless textbooks; surpassing that wasn't exactly easy.
Still, Lucifer's rise was far more explosive than Dumbledore's had been back in his day.
And among goblins, his reputation actually outstripped Dumbledore's. Every Gringotts goblin knew that this not-yet-adult wizard was despicable, cunning, greedier than a goblin, and drained wallets harder than a vampire.
Being Merlin's descendant, he possessed more wealth than countless 'pure-blood families' and had even seized control of the British branch of Gringotts, loudly proclaiming he might start his own bank.
And even so, the goblins both loved and hated him, because he could make them money, and because he forced wizards to actually spend 'their' money in Gringotts.
So right now, Lucifer was the goblins' most hated yet most distinguished guest, the couple didn't wait long before an elderly goblin in a suit brought in registration documents. With the two cards in hand, they could travel through all of Africa without any obstacles, not just for this trip, but forever, without ever needing to register again.
"Mr. Morningstar, would you like us to arrange lodgings for you?" the old goblin asked warmly.
"No need."
Lucifer shook his head, put away the cards, and led Hermione toward the door. Halfway there, he abruptly paused, turned around, and looked at the goblin, "Ahem... I'm planning to bring a few souvenirs back. You've dug up enough pyramids that your stockpile shouldn't be small, right?"
Egypt might be poor, but its riches were truly rich-countless heirloom treasures, he didn't need magical artifacts or anything powerful. As long as it looked good and was pretty, he'd take it.
The old goblin was pleased; looked like a big transaction had just walked in. He called several goblins in from outside and sent them to fetch suitable items, while he stayed behind to entertain his guests.
Originally he'd planned to escort Lucifer straight to the vaults, but quickly thought better of it.
Morningstar was terrifyingly strong. Goblin-forged anti-magic armor might as well be made of paper in front of him. The goblin guards who'd died in the "British Gringotts" were all the evidence needed.
What if he saw the mountains of treasure piled up inside and got ideas? The five Dragons they kept in the vaults wouldn't stop him. Better to bring the stuff out here where it was safer, Lucifer had no idea his reputation among goblins had sunk this low. Was he the type to snatch things by force?
If he saw something he liked, they could just sell it to him, problem solved! While he enjoyed his vacation, the world kept moving, it didn't pause for anyone.
xxxxx
Britain, Ministry of Magic
"What? This is the plan you came up with?" Fudge stared at Crouch and Ludo Bagman standing before him. "Pack the entire hosting rights for the World Cup and hand it over completely to Arkham Asylum?"
Even though his authority had been massively weakened after his clash with Lucifer, he was still the Minister. Bones and the others weren't going to tear things apart openly. As long as disagreements didn't get too serious, the Ministry still more or less ran according to Fudge's will, maintaining a respectable façade.
"Minister, this is the most economical option," Crouch reported without any kind of dirty water, after Pettigrew's death, "Our current funding situation is not ideal. If our own people handle everything, venue preparation, 'Muggle-repelling' charms, campsite organization, all of it together... our staff are already exhausted."
"The budget is gone. We still need at least another three hundred thousand Galleons to finish the job."
Five hundred Ministry employees had already been working nonstop for a year, and when the time came, at least ten thousand witches and wizards would be pouring in from around the world. Everything so far was vastly insufficient.
Technically, all this was Bagman's responsibility since he was Head of the 'Department of Magical Games and Sports' -but anyone with eyes knew Ludo's level. Fudge never listened to him anyway.
"No, wait!" He suddenly realized something deeply wrong, "If we hand everything to Asylum, how do we split the profits afterward? We can't just let all the money we've spent go down the drain, can we?"
"Ticket revenue still goes to the Ministry. What Mr. Morningstar wants are the other related profits: broadcast rights, merchant stalls, management 'fees', and so on."
Fudge's pig-like brain started overheating. Was it better to outsource everything, or keep pouring Ministry money into it?
He couldn't figure it out.
Ludo Bagman stepped forward to persuade him, "Minister, the Arkham Asylum Guild already works with major Quidditch clubs, and they really do have the advantage here.
I don't think there's anything to hesitate over... Half Ministry staff are sick of overtime by now. Especially since there wasn't any bonus pay.'
"Oh, right," Crouch said, feigning a casual reminder, "I ran into Lady Greengrass earlier by chance. She said Mr. Morningstar wants to use the World Cup to promote the Lumine-Lens. He's been hoping to speak with you personally, but since he's currently traveling... by the time he returns, there may not be enough time left."
The moment Fudge heard Lucifer's name, his eyes suddenly cleared, he sobered instantly, "Then do it your way," he bulged, flourishing his quill and signing his name on the parchment, "I have only one requirement: 'the Ministry must not lose money.' Even if we don't make a big profit, the initial investment has to be recovered."
"I'll put that into the contract," Nodding seriously, Barty Senior then left with the documents, satisfied.
Lucifer's goal was simple: expand his influence. Both the Arkham Asylum Guild and 'Mistress Kanan's' needed a showcase like the World Cup. And if he had new products ready by then, of course... he could make a nice chunk of money on the side. Tickets could only earn so much, 'Broadcast Rightsand Merchandise' were where the real profits were.
All for the greater good of his enjoyment.
xxxxxx
Durmstrang,
Barty Jr battered and injured, finally appeared before Grindelwald again. But his expression carried a strange satisfaction, and his eyes flickered with excitement.
"The one you named is dead..."
"I know," Grindelwald said, closing the book in his hands. He studied the wizard, looking at him with open appreciation, "Not only did the target die, you killed two extras. Well done, how did it feel?"
"I didn't feel anything," Barty shot back coldly, "I only followed your orders because I had no choice. I need to stay alive until my master returns. What feeling could I possibly have?"
"Funny, because you look happy," Grindelwald teased as he walked closer. Barty tried to retreat, but the Dark Lord's hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"No... it's not happiness. It's 'elation. Because you were yourself again. You could unleash your power without restraint, stopped being Crouch's son and became your own person."
"I-I didn't think that," Barty said through clenched teeth.
Ignoring him, Gellert continued to rot his brain, "Child, showing power may bring pleasure, but what you use that power for, determines your worth. The people I told you to kill were plotting rebellion... If we didn't crush it early, countless others would be dragged into meaningless slaughter. You saved many lives. But what about time you followed Voldemort, eh?"
"Meaningless murder, terror. All you gained was emptiness. Is that something a real father would want his son to do?"
Opening his mouth, Barty instinctively wanting to defend his master, but reason and the pleasant hum of his own satisfaction choked the words silent.
"Go see Vinda to get treated, rest for a few days. I hope you'll find a reason to live. Under my protection, do what you want to do..."
He patted Barty's shoulder and sent him out of the office. The wicked smile blooming on his face only grew thicker. If it were Dumbledore in his place, he would never manage to win Barty over.
Albus refused to believe anyone was born evil. And even if he believed it, would try to reshape person into what he wanted them to be.
Gellert Grindelwald was different. He didn't care what Barty was. All he needed to do was acknowledge him, affirm him, and fill the empty spaces in his heart. Compared to Voldemort's pure exploitation, the 'difference' was obvious.
xxxxx

"You 'perverted Saint!" Kanan-chan was holding the girl's hand seriously, she snapped, her voice echoing off the obsidian walls of the parlor, "You're not the illiterate 'farm' girl you once were. You've read books, Dad recited you bed time stories, you've finished at least twenty soap operas."
She flashed her crimson eyes.
Saint Jeanne tilted her head, golden halo flickered slightly, catching the dim, crimson light of the room. She looked genuinely puzzled, "I did?" She blinked, tilting her head 'further.'
"Darn it, you are still an idiot!" Kanan threw her hands up, her Dark Succubus wings flaring out behind her in a display of frustration, casting long shadows across the floor, "Where is your appreciation? Make a few bottles of your boobs' milk for him~"
Dynamically with her rage, the sharp curve of her hips and the contrast of her narrow waist was obvious.
"Now, now, children. Let's not squabble over literacy rates," Lucifer Morningstar stepped into, after excusing, from his girlfriend, looked immaculate, adjusting cuffs of his casual white t-shirt. His eyes gleamed with a mix of cosmic amusement and mild parental exhaustion.
"Father!" Straightening her posture immediately, Kanan Zebel was trying to look like the terrifying, capable mistress of the Underworld she claimed to be.
"Hello, Dad," Jeanne said cheerfully, completely unfazed by the aura of pure dread radiating from him, she said tapping her chin, "Kanan-chan says I watched twenty soap operas, but I only remember the one with the dramatic evil twin...."
Lucifer sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand 'fallen' empires, and poured himself a glass of dark wine, "Jeanne, my dear pig, the point your sister is so loudly trying to make is about sophistication," he said, gesturing with his glass, "When I fell from grace, I didn't lose my sense of style. I expect my daughters to carry themselves... with a certain standard. Even if one of you insists on playing the saint."
There was a primordial divide written directly into their souls. Kanan drew her heritage from 'unyielding' line of Lilith. This bloodline infused her with a chaotic authority, Dark majesty, and sharp, intoxicating allure that commanded shadows of Hell'
Saint Jeanne, conversely, inherited the legacy of Eve. This lineage tied her spirit to earth's original grace, a stubborn capacity for hope, and a radiant, enduring humanity that shone through even the deepest abysses. By 'fathering' them both, Lucifer had effectively intertwined the twin pillars of humanity's genesis.
Created a volatile family dynamic where Kanan's fierce infernal pride constantly clashed with Jeanne's bewildering, saintly simplicity.
And, ironies of ironies, it was Kanan herself who brought this perverted Saint back to their father, rescuing her from boring prayers in the Silver City of Angels.
Crossing her arms tightly, under her large bust, Kanan's posture became rigid as she smirked at Jeanne, "See? Even Dad thinks you're slacking off."
"And Kanan," Lucifer added, fixing her with a sharp, warning glare. "Stop yelling. It ruins acoustics of Zebel palace. If you want her to appreciate the finer things, guide her. Don't screech at her like a lower-tier imp."
Jeanne nodded sagely, looking entirely vindicated, "Yes, Kanan. Listen to Dad, no screeching."
Kanan's jaw dropped, her heart shaped tail twitched in pure annoyance against her curved hips as she realized she had somehow lost the argument today.
xxxxxx
After picking up several dozen treasures from the goblins at Gringotts, Lucifer who had taken a bathroom break, found Hermione returned, loaded with both of their loot checked. Using the address Newt gave them, they located their temporary home.
Being the type who could hop around the world at a moment's notice, Newt Scamander even had a safehouse in the Heka Corridor. Judging by its location, it sat in the northwest corner outside the market's third ring. From the outside, it was an ordinary one-story house.
Inside though, it opened into a surprisingly spacious layout with five bedrooms, three of which were suites.
Lucifer couldn't help letting his thoughts wander. Seriously... why does Newt need this many suites? Planning to hide mistresses? 'Isn't he afraid Tina would kill him? No, as a good Devil, I must tell her.'
"Lucifer, let's go explore!"
Hermione had no idea the boy beside her was slandering Newt in his head. She set their stuff down and immediately dragged him back out onto the street.
The smell of spices mixed with merchants shouting drifted through the air, she looked around excitedly before finally picking a direction.
But she didn't get far before she ran into a problem, couldn't understand 'Arabic,' Lucifer noticed her frustration. He took out his wand and tapped lightly near her ear. Hermione felt something like a thin membrane settle over her lobes, a giggly muffling sound for a split second.
Then shouts she couldn't understand moments ago suddenly turned into English.
"Freshly unearthed pharaoh masks from last week, guaranteed genuine or tenfold compensation!"
"Cleopatra VII's authentic lingerie, straight from the source! First come first served!"
"Golden scepters, ninety-nine percent pure gold, symbol of absolute household authority! Only eight hundred Galleons!"
Hermione stared at him, with an open mouth in surprise, it could have easily forced his growing banana into her, "How did you do that?"
"Conversion spell," Lucifer replied, gently tugging her away from a passing camel, "It turns languages you can't understand into English. Only works if the caster knows the language himself..."
Next, the little witch wandered over to a jewelry stall, intrigued. The table was covered in bold, beautifully designed gold and silver accessories. Rough style but surprisingly elegant.
"You have excellent taste, beautiful girl!" The stall owner, a middle-aged witch, immediately showered her with praise.
Hermione smiled and nodded, picking up a ring as the woman launched into a dramatic backstory about it. After hearing the story, she finally felt tempted and turned to ask her boyfriend's opinion, only to nearly faint with rage. 'This bastard wandered off to watch belly dancing across the street!'
"Ow ow ow!"
Lucifer was yanked back by a mane of brown nest-hair, grimacing, though his eyes stayed glued to that performer's belly.
It wasn't lust. He just felt it'd be disrespectful to the artist's hard work to look away before the performance finished. Plus, he wanted to ask what brand of tung oil she'd used. It was ridiculously shiny.
"Lucifer!"
"Yeah yeah, I'm here." The boy reluctantly tore his gaze away from the stall, "So, what do you wanna buy?"
"This one?" Hermione picked up a silver bangle and tried it on her wrist, "What do you think?" She raised it over for him to get a proper look.
"How much?" he asked.
"Thirteen sickles."
Giving it a moment's glance, Lucifer turned his face, said in Arabic, which was somehow even fluent than the shopowner herself, "This silver layer is electroplated. They used a reduction process and an oxidizing agent... huh? They added too much aqua regia. Look closely. Here, see how rough it is? The silver piled up."
Hermione widened her eyes and leaned closer, as if she had heard a gossiping disaster, and was scandulous, "This... 'You're right!"
The stall owner's face had already gone pale. In just a few sentences the kid had stripped her entire trick naked. Was he sent here to ruin her business or what?
But then she really looked at Lucifer, specifically his magazine-cover-level face and suddenly remembered something. She shrieked, "You're Lucifer Morningstar?!"
"Mhmm. That's me. Something wrong with that?"
"No, no, nothing at all." The stall keeper forced a laugh and ended up selling the bracelet to Hermione for one sickle, wiping cold sweat as she watched them walk away.
No wonder he saw through her scam instantly. If it was Morningstar, that explained everything. With the Wizarding world generally believing Nicolas Flamel to be dead, Lucifer was widely acknowledged as the greatest living alchemist.
After that, they spent the whole afternoon wandering around and grabbed dinner at a super popular restaurant. The food was decent, but the spices were far too strong, Hermione hardly touched her plate.
The street stalls in Egypt, though, were a total eye-opener. Completely different vibe from Diagon Alley.
A lot of things that were strictly banned elsewhere were openly on display, like African Runespoor skin, Venomous Tentacula, and various body parts from sphinxes and fire dragons. Obviously some were real and some were fake. Once you bought it, you lived with it, profit or loss was all on you.
There were also plenty of black magic scrolls being sold out in the open. Hermione turned pale just looking at the dark smoke coiling around them. There was no way those spells were harmless.
"Don't be scared," He tried to reassure her, while his face was somewhat funny, "Most of these are just props. There aren't many genuine ones."
Along the way he bought quite a bit himself, Sphinx eyes, claws, some giant scarab beetles, and two magical scrolls he didn't have in his library. Local specialties. All corpse-related magic. By the time they got home it was already ten at night. They washed up quickly and fell asleep wrapped around each other.
xxxxxx
The Next Morning
Lucifer planned to take Hermione to some key Muggle sightseeing spots. But the chaos in the street caught his attention first.
A squad of enforcers moved through the crowd with serious expressions, each holding a small balance scale. Whenever they stopped someone, they made them place their hand on it and then interrogated.
"What's going on?" Hermione whispered when she noticed.
"No idea," he said, shaking his head, "Has nothing to do with us. Come on, we'll hit Saladin Citadel first, then Luxor Temple..."
Lucifer barely finished the sentence before reality slapped him. A unit of enforcers blocked their path.
"Good day, Mr. Morningstar."
The lead wizard greeted him politely, his English thick with accent. "May we borrow a moment of your time?"
Raising his left eyebrow, the smile on his lips was turning dangerous by the seconds gone useless, "What, you want to interrogate me too? Using that little lie detector of yours?"
His eyes had already deciphered the scale's function at a glance.
"Something very important has gone missing from Gringotts," The leader explained quietly. "You are a valued guest of the bank, but given the severity---"
"Not my problem." Lucifer waved his hand. The whole group was shoved aside by an invisible wall, "Considering all those welcome gifts yesterday, I'll let it slide. One more word of nonsense and I'll go rob Gringotts myself."
The leader's face went from pale to green. The enforcers behind him looked furious, but the leader held them back and bowed slightly.
"My apologies, Mr. Morningstar."
Not bothering to respond back, Lucifer just took Hermione's hand and walked away.
"Captain, why did you let him go?!" A young wizard burst out behind him. "We represent Gringotts! The most powerful force in this entire region, even the Ministry won't cross us. He's just an underage wizard. He attacked us just now, that's a violation of the Protection Act!"
"The Protection Act doesn't apply to him." The captain loosened his clenched fist and turned to the younger wizard, "Do you lot still think Morningstar is a child? He has more blood on his hands than all the corpses you've ever seen...."
"If you go after Lucifer, you're not just up against him. You'll have Dumbledore to deal with, the same one standing against Grindelwald. And honestly... That Dark Lord himself might come after us too."
"No way," The younger wizard stammered, face pale but still unwilling to accept it.
The Captain had enough, he snapped, "You don't pay attention to foreign affairs, so you don't know. Morningstar's guilds have already spread across Europe, including Grindelwald's territory. The higher-ups suspect the two might even have some kind of arrangement. And that's not even considering our own... complicated relationship with him. You can't lay a hand on that man. Ever. Understand?"
One of the enforcers whispered, "Then what about our investigation? Manager Lofi said he suspects it was..."
"If he suspects something, he can investigate it himself." The Captain cut him off, "I already took the risk of stopping Morningstar once. That completes our orders. If we actually provoke him, we'll be the 'first' ones thrown under the Knight bus."
His subordinates fell silent. Their understanding of that little wizard's power shifted dramatically. Seeing that, the Captain didn't say more. He led them onward to continue the day's grim work.
Meanwhile, Lucifer was also thinking about what exactly Gringotts had lost, he was kinda annoyed as well. Yesterday they showered him with gifts like it was nothing, but today, the moment something got stolen, they were combing the city. That meant whatever went missing was worth far more than yesterday's offerings.
Those greedy goblins weren't being honest. They dared to send shabby gifts to him. Well now look what happened, Someone robbed them, and they managed to irritate 'him' in the process.
A perfect two-for-one failure.
Still, anyone who could steal something out of Gringotts' former headquarters had to have skills. That thief wasn't ordinary.
"Lucifer! Take a picture for me!"
"Coming!"
At Hermione's call, he shoved all those annoyances to the back of his mind and switched 'fully' into photographer mode. He wasn't holding a wizard camera, but a Muggle Hasselblad.
Wizard camera tech was still stuck decades in the past. Even shooting in color was a chore, nevermind aperture, sharpness, or clarity. The photos always came out blurry, which was completely unacceptable for a master photographer like him.
By dusk, tension filled the Heka Corridor. Every exit was guarded by enforcement squads, and anyone entering or leaving was interrogated and sometimes searched.
Pretty much everyone inside now knew that Gringotts had lost something extremely valuable.
People gossiped endlessly while quietly wondering: Who on earth could pull off a theft like that? What kind of treasure was guarded so tightly that goblins had gone berserk, willing to offend anyone and everyone to find it?
With searches this aggressive, they'd inevitably anger plenty of wizards and uncover things they had no business uncovering.
But the goblins pushed ahead anyway, which meant whatever had been stolen hurt them badly. Maybe even drove them mad.
Up in Gringotts' top floor, several goblins sat around a desk wearing the expression of men attending their own funerals.
"Are we sure it wasn't Morningstar?" One of them asked with heavy suspicion, "Before he arrived, everything was fine. He shows up, and something vanishes immediately. That's too convenient."
"I don't think it was him." The goblin who had hosted Lucifer yesterday was also present, he frowned. "You know his personality. Arrogant, pretentious, and loud. But a thief? I don't buy it. If he wants something, he gets it in two ways: intimidation or bribery."
The other goblins nodded.
That bastard was a robber, sure, but his pride would never let him sneak around to steal.
"Keep the entire Heka Corridor locked down." Seated at the head, the Chief of Gringotts North Africa made his decision, "Everyone entering or leaving gets searched. Not even the Minister of Magic gets a pass."
"What about that Ambrosius boy?" another goblin asked.
The Chief shot him a glare. "Except him! Everyone else gets searched. And send for a 'few' Seers. We need divination support." He hopped off his chair and stomped out of the room, needed to report to headquarters.
As he left, the Chief found himself thinking if someone else wanted to take the fall and investigate Morningstar personally, he'd happily step aside and let them take his job.
By midnight, the bustling street had finally quieted. Most homes were dark, their owners sound asleep.
Then a roar shattered the night. Dragon cries ripped through the sky, startling countless people out of their beds. Lucifer, who had been in the middle of checking on Hermione's health who squirted a lot, while also helping with her 'development', yanked his hand back out of her pussy at lightning speed and bolted out of the hut, eyes sparkling.
"I need to go see whatever that is!"
Lucifer shot out of the house in a rush, floating high in the air as he stared down at chaos below with clear amusement.
The Gringotts headquarters was blazing. The grand building that had looked so dignified during the day now had several gaping holes blown into its roof.
Five different breeds of 'fire' dragons were rampaging through the city. Their bodies were covered in wounds, and broken shackles still clung to their limbs. The chains that once restrained them had become weapons instead. With just a swing they tore through stone and steel-----
British Gringotts only kept 'one' dragon for guard duty according to the rumours. This place had five, the difference in importance between two branches couldn't have been clearer.