Astoria was the closest. She could clearly see Annabelle's long lashes, her bright bluish sea green eyes, her chubby pink cheeks. She was so cute that girl almost wanted to scoop her up and cuddle her senseless. And yet, alarms were blaring in her head. 'I have silvery blonde hair, and an older sister, Annabelle does too, but mine is spectacularly unreliable. This is bad. What if I lost?!'
"Alex, where's your sister?" Lucifer finally asked after managing to steady the bouncing girl.
She answered brightly, "Sister walks too slow. Annabelle came in first with Sister Christiana!" A voice full of resentment came from the doorway.
"Am I slow? She ran off like a rocket. I couldn't even grab her."
Darcy was standing there in an exquisite Rococo-style dress, topped with a wide brimmed hat adorned with flowers. Her elegant figure and striking presence were on full display, though the helpless look on her face was oddly amusing.
When she saw Annabelle still lounging in Lucifer's arms and secretly pulling faces at her, she snapped. She strode over and lifted the little girl straight up.
Then Miss Valentine scanned the room. Not seeing her mortal enemy, she asked with a smirk, "Where's that annoying girl? Don't tell me she's still asleep."
Lucifer shook his head. "No. Daphne isn't coming today. She's doing special training. Um... She's entering the competition next term."
That delighted Darcy to no end. She laughed so hard she nearly bent over, "She? Competing? Love, that's the best joke I've heard all year." Laughing, the older girl leaned right into her boyfriend's arms, turning several faces instantly dark.
"Hey!" Ginny shouted. "Vile-entine? What are you laughing at? Just because you're a 'few' years older doesn't make you special."
"Yes! With Lucifer helping us, you old woman are definitely going to lose to me, Hermione Granger."
"What did you just call me?" Darcy snapped, standing up, completely ignoring the bushy haired girl, which made her face turn scarlet.
"Oh dear'Vile-entine! Vile-entine!" While Ginny sang mockingly. She deliberately twisted Darcy's French name into a similar, sounding word. The meaning was... 'vile, perfectly insultive, because it focused on something gross and repulsive.
No wonder Valentine was furious.
xxxxxx
Lucifer felt his headache getting worse by the second. He made a decisive move, scooped Alexandra up, gave Abbott a look and pair of three slipped out of the villa.
Yes, villa, he did have a tent, but with this many people coming and going, he'd had the Arkham Asylum guild build a proper villa instead, "Alex, want me to take you shopping?"
"Yes!"
Let them argue. Even if it turned into a brawl, he wasn't dealing with it. He could comfort them one by one later. Staying there meant offending someone no matter what. Much better to escape and enjoy some peace with two good girls.
At the center of all the camps was a commercial street, packed with wizard stalls from over a hundred countries. Food, toys, curios, even dangerous and sensitive items were all on display.
This was a carnival for merchants. Even sky-high stall fees couldn't dampen their enthusiasm.
And it turned out they were right. The street had been packed since a week ago, and today it was completely jammed. The income from the past few days alone had already recouped most of the millions of Galleons he'd invested. Add in ticket sales from the expanded stadium, broadcast rights, advertising 'fees', and the explosive rise in Lumine-Lens sales, money practically forced itself into his hands.
Lucifer had originally planned to spend money to expand his influence which did grow, but somehow the money just kept piling up instead.
He kept a protective barrier around them, using magic to part the crowd so they could move more easily. Besides dealing with the little girl, he also brought Hannah out, because Lucifer had no idea what Hespera had said to her, but she no longer avoided him. Their appearances had settled into a pattern.
Hannah during the day, Hespera at night. By unspoken agreement, Lucifer avoided adult topics in front of the pure girl and never mentioned doing the deeds with her evil twin.
Sigh. Who knew when he'd ever get to try those special tricks Hespera kept hinting at. Soon, Gabrielle had an ice cream in each hand, happily munching away while sitting in Lucifer's arms. A Banfield' Maid followed behind them, handling payments.
"Hannah, do you like this?" Lucifer asked as they stopped at an accessory shop. He immediately spotted a hairpin he liked and glanced at the owner.
"I like it," She said softly.
"Then I'll buy it. I'll put it on you after the World Cup."
"Thank you, Lucifer," The girl said brightly. Then, her expression shifted slightly. After struggling with herself for a while, she added shyly, "Lucifer, she... she says she wants one too."
He didn't even blink. "No. This time, it's just for you."
Cheering girls up was easy. The simplest trick, comparison. Don't be afraid of making someone upset. As long as you smooth things over afterward, the relationship usually ends up even better. Anyone who's argued with a girlfriend knew this. The sweetest moments tend to come right after a fight, when you're glued to each other again.
Of course, most people never get to use this knowledge. Step one was 'finding' a girlfriend in the first place.
Hannah didn't say anything on the surface, but her happiness was practically overflowing. Even the bristling Hespera was firmly suppressed, forced to listen to the two of them being all lovey-dovey the whole way.
The humiliation and cuckolded fury Hannah had once endured had now come full circle. 'Beep! Beep!'
Suddenly, sharp alarm sounds rang out along the street. A red beam of light dropped from a rooftop and locked onto a hunched wizard who was trying to hurry away with his head down. Several nearby wizards reacted instantly. Spells flew. The man's face twisted, his mouth went crooked, and he collapsed to the ground, twitching nonstop, his front teeth even popping out.
Annabelle, her mouth smeared with ice cream, witnessed the whole thing. She froze, eyes wide, completely lost.
"B-big brother..." The little girl instinctively shrank back.
"It's okay, you two," Lucifer said gently, patting her back, while Hannah had clutched onto his left arm, "Everyone's just catching a bad guy. That man was a thief, if you steal someone else's things, you get punished."
'Unless you're strong enough that no one dares touch you.' he added that silently, choosing not to say it out loud. No need to corrupt a child.
"Oh, I see." Annabelle nodded in sudden understanding and finally relaxed. The wizards who had acted conjured a rope and tied the thief up.
One of them shouted, "Hey, check if anyone lost something!"
People around patted their pockets. Soon, a witch stepped forward, pulled a wallet from the thief, and thanked them repeatedly. The wizards, looking a bit impatient, dragged the thief away.
That alarm system had been Lucifer's idea. No one understood better than he did just how much chaos two hundred thousand people could cause, especially when those people were wizards capable of all kinds of strange magic.
Even with Arkham Asylum and the 'Ministry' working together, proper control was unrealistic. The best solution was decentralization. Let them keep each other in check.
Like those do-gooder wizards just now. They could claim a one hundred Galleon reward from the Guild, and it would recover several times that amount from the thief.
On a legal level, the Ministry had formally granted Arkham Asylum "legitimate" enforcement authority for the duration of the World Cup. A massive trust was quietly taking shape within the Wizarding world.
The sun climbed high overhead, and before anyone noticed, it was noon. The streets grew even more crowded. Every shop and stall was packed to the brim.
Annabelle, who had been bursting with energy when they left, was now drooping like a wilted flower. She dozed off in Lucifer's arms. Children need sleep, and considering she'd rushed over from France at dawn, lasting this long was already impressive.
When they returned to the villa, it was quiet there too. The living room was empty, everyone had probably gone back to get a nap.
Lucifer gently placed the already sleeping Annabelle onto the bed, then went to the room Susan was lying sideways, giving newcomers the view of her two rounds cheeks.
While she slept, he tongue snogged out with Hannah for a couple of minutes, she was seriously wet between her legs, muffling her moans as she watched Susan drifted off, was a huge turn on.
xxxxxx
He then sat at the desk, took out his WhatsApp, and checked in with Shikimori first. Seeing that nothing seemed urgent, he contacted Newt.
『Lucifer Morningstar』: Grandpa Newt, how come you're still not here?
He and Newt had agreed to meet at the villa once he arrived. It was already noon, and there was still no sign of him.
『Newt Scamander』: Lucifer, this is Tina, he and I will be a bit late.
His eyes sharpened.
『Lucifer Morningstar』: Did something happen?
『Newt Scamander』: Two Kelpies got stomach trouble yesterday, and one Graphorn went into labor early. Newt is completely swamped. Don't worry, we'll definitely make it before the match.
He stared at the message in silence. So, this was the downside of not having subordinates. Everything had to be handled personally. Newt didn't even have time to come out and enjoy the spectacle.
No good. When he got back, he needed to prepare a few alchemical constructs to help Newt. The old man wasn't young anymore and couldn't handle all these exhausting tasks every day. Decision made, Lucifer stretched, climbed into bed, and took a nap with the little girl beside him.
At four in the afternoon, he woke up and went door to door, knocking and waking the girls one by one. After getting cleaned up, they prepared to head to the venue.
But just a few steps in, he couldn't hold it in anymore.
"'Silencio."
Ginny and Darcy Valentine snapped their mouths shut at the same time, not a sound able to escape, "If you keep arguing, both of you are going back." Lucifer's 'face' darkened which matched his girlfriend's who kept tossing and turning the entire night.
The moment the two girls stepped outside, Ginny and Darcy were at each other again, trading barbs nonstop, he had planned to ignore it, but the noise got under his skin, and for once, he actually lost his temper.
"Big brother, don't be angry. Sister already knows she was wrong." Annabelle timidly tugged on Lucifer's sleeve, being sorry for her idiotic----
Only then did his expression soften, taking the opening, he said firmly, "Fine. I'll let it go this time, for little Alex's sake."
Those two immediately got their voices back, glaring fiercely but kept quiet, in their hearts, the other should be held accountable for getting reprimanded by Lucifer.
As the venue drew closer, more and more wizards poured out of the camps, converging on the stadium from all directions. The commercial street expanded once again.
This was the only path into the venue. The Guild had stationed hundreds of people here to maintain order and collect protection fees. No, stall fees.
Wizards were lining up everywhere. Even for the toilets. The length of those lines was enough to make someone give up and hold it.
The lines for the witches' toilets were twice as long as the wizards'. Someone suggested converting part of the men's room, and Lucifer immediately slapped the idea down.
Convert nothing. Don't you know what fairness was? He, Lucifer Morningstar, one of the biggest supporters of 'feminism!'
"There are really so many people," Hermione said in awe, she had used Davis' 'face' cream below her eyes, to appear sunshine, "I've never seen anything like this before."
Wizards always felt few and far between. One magical school in all of Britain, only three or four across Europe. It was hard to associate the Wizarding world with crowds and bustle.
"Well, it only happens once every four years," Darcy said with a gentle smile, she was now behaving like the eldest person here, "Wizarding entertainment is pretty scarce. Aside from the Quidditch World Cup, I can't think of anything else.... that would bring so many people together."
"There is, Grindelwald, for example."
Luna's single line dropped the entire group into silence. That... was not the same kind of comparison, this was the World Cup. A happy occasion, don't drop such an awkward cold joke now.
But the mention of Grindelwald made Lucifer think, a large number of Acolytes had come as well so the Ministry had deployed most of its Aurors, including some borrowed from other nations to guard the perimeter.
Those poor workhorses couldn't even watch the match. No idea how many of them were cursing the Acolytes and Grindelwald right now.
As Lucifer and others walked, they passed countless supporters of different teams. Faced with a crowd of three hundred thousand, Ireland's home advantage meant nothing. Their fans were also a bit too arrogant, and clashes broke out between Irish supporters and fans of other teams.
He casually suppressed two incidents that happened close to him. After that, he ignored the rest. These people were like football hooligans, using a rare opportunity to vent pent-up energy.
'Ssshhh! BOOM!'
Fireworks suddenly exploded in the sky. A green shamrock, symbol of Ireland, bloomed overhead. Not to be outdone, Bulgaria's golden lion right after. That was when things truly kicked off.
The sky, already darkening, turned into a Wizarding meme war. Fireworks of every shape and color filled the air, dazzling to the eye.
Fortunately, there were no Muggles anywhere nearby. Not in surrounding camps, not even in the entire mountain range. Otherwise, Wizarding world would have been exposed on the spot.
"Whoa-!"
As they passed through the last stretch of forest, stadium's massive shadow fell over them. Almost everyone gasped the moment they saw it in full.
The entire arena looked like a gigantic white eggshell lying on the ground, the top cracked open. Iridescent light rippled across the smooth surface in shifting colors. Cheers from inside rolled outward, scattering the fiery clouds at the horizon and setting hearts racing outside as well.
Excited, yes. But no one dared do anything reckless.
Nearly a hundred cold, Transformer like constructs stood guard, red lights glowing in their hands. The moment anyone even tried to pull out a wand, every palm-mounted barrel would swivel toward them.
Someone had tested their luck earlier.
He was sleeping very peacefully now, wouldn't be waking up until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
With that lesson learned, everyone queued up obediently and entered through twenty ticket gates in orderly lines. Of course, private box tickets were a different story.
Although the stadium could hold three hundred thousand people, Lucifer had designed one hundred ninety nine private boxes.
The 'first' ninety-nine were at the very top, with an unobstructed view of the entire field. They were the best seats in the house, enhanced with 'Undetectable Extension Charms,' spacious and luxuriously furnished.
The remaining hundred were just below them, each accommodating twenty to thirty people at most.
Nearly two hundred boxes sounded like a lot, but compared to a crowd of three hundred thousand, it was nothing. All summer long, whether you could secure a box had become the ultimate measure of influence and connections.
Not only could you enjoy the match in comfort with your family, you could also show off spectacularly in front of friends and colleagues.
For 'pure-blood' families and political elites alike, this was an irresistible temptation.
That summer, Lucifer received several times more greetings from his Slytherin, and Gryffindor classmates than usual. Every letter danced around the same request. Could he help them get a few boxes? Or rather, allocate a few.
He wasn't stingy. He handed out several of the lower numbered boxes to Zabini, Nott, Longbottom and a few other underlings. Draco Malfoy, shameless as ever, managed to squeeze out a few as well.
As for the top hundred, he gave Box Nine to the Hogwarts professors, Box Six to Newt, and assigned a 'few' more to various mothers-in-law to maintain his network and social ties.
As for Nicolas Flamel, Lucifer had planned to invite him, but the old man was currently obsessed with researching the 'Tear of Isis.' Madame Flamel had no interest in Quidditch either, so they passed.
Lucifer himself picked the perfectly ordinary Box Five. He could have taken Box One if he wanted, but there was no need. He might as well leave that stage to Fudge and the other 'Ministers of Magic' to play out their little vanity fair.
Once inside the box, the girls immediately crowded against glass, peering down with undisguised curiosity. Below them, a sea of heads surged and shifted, a sight that made one's blood boil with excitement.
Lucifer's WhatsApp suddenly vibrated, glanced at it, he smiled.
"Newt's here, they're right next door. Let's go say hello."
The moment he stepped inside Box Six, he laughed. The 'Scamander family' had clearly rushed over. Newt and his son, Leo Scamander, still had traces of blood and mud on their clothes, barely cleaned up at all.
"Lucifer, long time no see," Leo said warmly, completely unbothered by the state he was in.
"It really has been a while. Last time we met was the summer after my first year. Two years flew by just like that."
Newt, meanwhile, was having a full social-anxiety relapse. So many people, he'd met Astoria, Darcy, Annabelle and Hermione before.
But Ginny, Susan, Hannah, Tracey, and Luna were all new to him.
Barely managed to hold himself together through the girls' polite greetings, then shot Lucifer a strange look. This number... isn't it a bit much? While Tina was chatting with the girls, he quietly pulled the boy aside.
With a heavy, earnest tone, he said, hoping to guide the boy on the right path, "Lucifer, you're still young. Some things aren't better just... because you can take more. Even if your heart is big enough to break into pieces and give one to each person, your body..." He sighed deeply.
"Your body won't allow it."
Lucifer stared at him, speechless.
"Grandpa Newt, how can a man say he can't?"
Newt looked aggrieved. 'Why can't you say, you can't? The scary part isn't being unable to do it. It's saying you can't, and she still won't let you go.'
From the weathered look in his eyes, Lucifer could read a whole story. He gave the old man a glance filled with sympathy. Yeah... there's history here.
Honestly, this was a painfully accurate snapshot of many middle-aged wizards' lives. The Wizarding population seemed cursed.
No matter how much the Muggle population grew, the total number of wizards never really changed. A lot of 'pure-blood families' had figured that out long ago. That was why so many wizards rushed to get married the moment they graduated. If you didn't hurry up and start having kids, what if your slot got taken?
And even after the 'first' child, you couldn't slack off. The more children, the better. A few days ago, Lucius Malfoy had come to visit Lucifer, his eyes were sunken, dark circles heavy under them. A single look was enough to tell... the man was completely exhausted. The suffering of middle aged men, honestly, Narcisaa was being cold to him in the bedroom.
Lucifer guessed that after Leo was born, Tina had probably wanted to go for another round, leaving Newt with memories he would never forget, he suddenly felt a bit regretful. Why hadn't he thought of 'exploiting' this angle? If he had just developed a few wizarding versions of Viagra, he wouldn't have to wait for years to get his 'First Order of Merlin''
Giving Newt's shoulder a solid pat. He didn't say a word, but everything that needed to be said was already there.
The old man was full of question marks. He had clearly been the one sharing life experience with the boy, so how did this turn into Lucifer feeling sorry for him? 'What kind of look is that?'
"Don't worry, Newt," Lucifer said, thumping his chest confidently. "Give it some time. I guarantee Rolf will have a little uncle."
"..."
Lucifer wasn't joking, he was completely serious, Himejima's new batch of 'Age-reversal Lemons' was almost ripe, and the first people he thought of were the Scamander and Flamel 'families.'
Those two elders had helped him immensely in the past, and in the future they could... well. Who could say no to outstanding workers who could stay productive for over a hundred years? Not that Lucifer thought of them as employees, exactly. But you get the idea.
Once Tina and Newt were young again, giving Rolf a little uncle would be no challenge at all. After chatting for a while, he took Hermione and the others, left, not wanting to disturb the Scamanders' rare 'family' reunion.
He first had Darcy take Annabelle back who officially changed her name at the French's 'Ministry for Magic.' Then he brought the rest of the girls to the Hogwarts professors' Box Nine to say hello. When he walked in, Professor McGonagall was chatting with Professor Sinistra from Astronomy.
Flitwick and Sprout were fiddling with a miniature Quidditch stadium model, while Sybill Trelawney was dragging Professor Vector from Arithmancy into a "drinking contest."
Even though Lucifer had sent an invitation, Snape still wasn't there.
'James Potter' had been a star on the Quidditch pitch back in the day, while Snape hadn't even made the house team, he had always disliked the sport. After discovering that Harry was freakishly talented at it, that dislike had only turned into outright loathing. When McGonagall saw the boy come in with the others, her face lit up. "Lucifer! We were just talking about you."
Since they weren't at school, her tone was much more casual. At Hogwarts, it was almost always Mr. Morningstar.
"Talking about me?" he asked, curious.
Professor Flitwick picked up the thread, "Thank you for the tickets. We could never have gotten seats this good on our own."
"It's nothing, just exempt me from holiday homework and we'll call it even."
Taken aback for a moment, Flitwick then leaned in conspiratorially, "I'll tell you a secret. I've never really read your homework. I always give you full marks."
Lucifer gave him a thumbs up, which resulted McGonagall shot her old colleague a glare, putting on a show of disapproval. Truth be told, she did the same thing, but you couldn't just say that out loud. There were other students around, after all.
Just then, Trelawney suddenly drifted over. She stared at Lucifer intensely, muttering under her breath.
"Sybill?" McGonagall frowned.
But Trelawney didn't react at all. Her expression turned grave as she fixed her gaze on the boy, "Child... my 'Inner Eye' tells me that you will face a great calamity, reality will be re-written."
"Sybill!" McGonagall was genuinely angry now.
Lucifer, however, had learnt to keep his smile, and dipped his head politely. "Thank you for the warning, Professor. When we get back to school, I'll bring you a good bottle of wine."
Trelawney immediately snapped out of her mystical trance. She beamed, nodded happily, and went back to her seat. He didn't recommend Hermione take 'Divination' class because she lacked the talent, or that Trelawney herself had nothing to offer.
This professor was honestly a bit uncanny. Whether it was her scare you half to death rambling when she was playing the fraud, or her serious, 'fate-laden' prophecies when she truly entered the zone, everything she had predicted about him was true.
The way Trelawney had looked just now felt... 'off. No telling whether it was an act or the real thing, but Lucifer made a mental note to stay alert for a while.
Back in his Box, it was now other people's turn to come visit him. Guests arrived in waves. Business partners from the 'Mistress Kanan's Magical Workshop', scholars looking to exchange ideas, and representatives from several pure-blood families bearing gifts.
Most of all, though, were his classmates. The box hardly had a moment of peace.
Calling Lucifer's current standing in the wizarding world "a done deal" was no exaggeration. As Arkham Asylum continued to expand, setting up multiple branches in Continent, his influence had already broken out of Europe and reached much farther.
This World Cup alone showed just how much power it could mobilize.
In the past, only one organization operated on this kind of scale: the 'International Confederation of Wizards.' Now there were two more, the Acolytes Alliance and the Arkham Asylum Guild.
But compared to the Confederation's bloated bureaucracy and its fear of the Acolytes Alliance, Lucifer's Wizadry Guild was simply easier to deal with, and more profitable too. Plenty of people were eager to get closer to him.
Meanwhile, the central Box One was just as lively. 'Ministers of Magic' from over ten countries had gathered there. Fudge was glowing, surrounded by them as they laughed and chatted. It felt like the peak moment of his life.
Over on the other side, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic had far fewer people around him. Being one of Grindelwald's allies had its downsides. Only countries from the same camp stood with him.
That clash between the two major factions was a big reason this final had more buzz than any before it.
Barty Crouch had been firmly grabbed by Fudge and forced to act as a translator. He finally found an excuse to escape when Ludo Bagman showed up.
As kickoff drew closer, atmosphere grew even more electric.
When Ludo Bagman announced the start of the match, the crowd erupted. Thunderous cheers, roaring applause, thousands of flags waving, and a chaotic mix of songs filled the air.
Eighteen massive floating screens around the stadium rolled through different advertisements. Just from the ad revenue alone, Lucifer had already made a killing.
"Enough talk," Bagman boomed. "Please allow me to introduce Bulgaria's mascots!"
One hundred Veela glided onto the pitch. Their beauty left countless men dazed, emotions rising and falling with every movement of their dance. A stadium of three hundred thousand people fell 'eerily' silent.
Naturally, Lucifer wasn't affected. But he recognized plenty of familiar faces among them. "Darcy, why are there Veela from your tribe here?"
"Because Bulgaria didn't have enough Veela," She said with a wide grin, her memory of the day coming back, "A single performance pays very well. Grandmother wouldn't say no."
Lucifer's mouth twitched. Using magical beings from another country as your mascot? That was... a move.
When the dance ended, the stadium exploded with angry shouts. The crowd didn't want the Veela to leave. Many fans even looked ready to rush the field, he watched as plenty of people immediately swapped the shamrock badges on their chests for red Bulgarian emblems. The loyalty was "impressively fake."
But the moment Ireland's leprechauns appeared and tossed out their own gifts, the crowd switched sides again. After all, those gifts were gold coins.
A rain of gold fell from the sky. Ginny almost bolted out of the box to grab some, but Lucifer quickly pulled her back, "They're leprechaun gold," he said with a chide, "It'll vanish after a while."
Only then did the girl sit back down, looking disappointed, it made Davis almost give on the jab she had prepared but held back.
Ludo Bagman loudly announced the players as they entered. One by one, they shot into the air at incredible speed. They were moving so fast that he often hadn't finished saying one name before the next player appeared. Irish supporters cheered themselves hoarse.
Then came the Bulgarian team. They were far less famous, until Viktor Krum appeared.
The stadium went insane. This entire tournament had basically been Krum carrying his team on his back. In every match, he did almost all the work himself. He was a legendary player, every team wanted someone like him.
The Irish 'fans' also knew he was the biggest threat to their championship. They unleashed the loudest boos they could muster, hoping to throw Krum off his game.
"Krum, even my grandma could score more than you! Just wanted to say that."
"You suck! You 'fucking' suck, Trump-uh, I mean Krum!"
"If I were you, I'd just give up the game right now."
Naturally, the Bulgarian fans didn't stay quiet for long. They volleyed insults right back at the Irish players while lavishing
Krum with a touch of exaggerated praise, though, in truth, it wasn't exaggeration at all, he really was one of the best players in the world.
"Huh? Isn't that the old guy from earlier?" Hannah blinked in surprise at the referee who had just stepped onto the pitch. From Bagman's introduction, she learned who he was: Hassan Mostafa, Chairwizard of the 'International Quidditch Association,' hailing from Egypt.
Wait... that guy was the president of the 'International Quidditch Association?'
She could barely watch how obsequious he'd been toward Lucifer earlier. She'd assumed he was just some small time merchant. Turned out he was a pretty big deal.
"That's normal," Lucifer said absentmindedly, "He's counting on me to help him make money. Being polite is the least he can do, right?"
Right now, only Britain had a professional Quidditch league with broadcast coverage. Even so, the surge in revenue was no secret. As 'International Quidditch President,' Mostafa knew perfectly well that once Quidditch went global, his organization would finally stand tall.
At that point, he'd practically be sleeping on piles of Galleons.
Lucifer, however, stayed lukewarm. He held a monopoly. Whatever he chose to promote, everyone else would have to watch anyway. There was no need to go all-in on sports alone.
But what he really wanted was diversity. Let the Wizarding world explore new paths on its own instead of relying on him to push everything forward. Doing it himself, producing and selling it all, was honestly kind of boring.
That was why he was selling 'Lumine-Lenses,' and at such a low price, too. He wanted wizarding entertainment to grow and develop as quickly as possible.
Soon, a sharp whistle blew.
The Match began!~
Compared to house teams, or even professional leagues, today's game was on a completely different level. Every player was riding a 'Firebolt,' their speed so absurd it left afterimages in the air.
Without commentary or magical assistance, it was almost impossible to grasp the whole picture. All anyone could really see were players streaking back and forth through the sky.
To match skill of these elite players and their top-tier equipment, the World Cup used specially modified Bludgers and a Golden Snitch, all about twenty percent faster than the standard versions.
The Irish fans only grew louder, because the match was basically a one-sided slaughter. In barely over ten minutes, Bulgaria had been smashed for ten goals straight.
The score rocketed to 100-0.
Viktor Krum was losing his mind, even though he toyed with Ireland's Seeker, Lynch, like a cat with a mouse and even smashed his nose, it didn't matter. His teammates just kept 'feeding' points to the enemy.
Half an hour later, the match was over, Krum deliberately caught the Golden Snitch, losing game 170-160.
Which meant that aside from him, the rest of Bulgarian team had scored a grand total of ten points.
"The gap is way too big," Susan said, shaking her head in disappointment. She'd expected a 'fierce', close match. Instead, it had been a massacre.
"Just take it as entertainment," Lucifer said as he stood up, looking down at the crowd going wild on the pitch, "There'll be plenty more spectacles like this in the future. But tell me... what do you think this stadium could be used for later?"
He'd already reached an agreement with the Ministry. After the World Cup, he would buy 'full' ownership of the stadium for eight hundred thousand Galleons.
Darcy offered an idea. "Concerts?"
Hermione immediately shot it down, or she just didn't like to agree with this french harpy, "Even the most popular singer in entire Wizarding world couldn't fill more than twenty percent of these seats."
"Then rent it out to other Quidditch teams for matches." Hannah offered to stop the arguing, their nostrils were fuming, and it was causing her to sneeze.
"Still not enough," Hermione shook her 'full' head, curls going wild, "A stadium for three hundred thousand people is just too big."
In the end, no one came up with a truly good solution. The most realistic option was hosting various large scale competitions.
Lucifer himself wasn't sure yet. Either way, he wouldn't lose money. If the Ministry weren't desperately short on cash, they would never have sold him the stadium in the 'first' place.
When the Irish celebration finally died down, he prepared to leave through the private exit with his group. But just outside the box, they ran into Fudge, who was also heading out, along with a crowd of other 'Ministers of Magic.'
Davis groaned beside Astoria.
"Mr. Morningstar!" Fudge greeted him enthusiastically to the point of flattery, his jowls folding together as he smiled. He had finally discovered the joy of letting things slide.
Inside the Ministry, he was more like a mascot now. Everything was still reported to him as before, but once Morningstar made a decision, Fudge no longer had authority to say no, even dropped the matter of Black.
Yet from the outside, Cornelius Fudge's influence looked greater than ever. In the past, the Ministry could never have supported moves on this scale. All of it came from working with Lucifer.
Fudge still craved power deeply, but he'd changed his approach. If Crouch and Bones could grovel, why couldn't he? Morningstar was far easier to deal with than Dumbledore. Not because he was weaker, but because the boy's ambition was written plainly on his face.
Everything he did was out in the open. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a smiling old schemer. Pleasant on the surface, but who knew what kind of plots he was 'cooking' up underneath? There were so many things you couldn't say outright with him, and that made Fudge miserable.
Working with Lucifer was straightforward. He told you exactly what he wanted and what he could give you. If you could accept it, great. If not, you were out.
Hard to swallow at first, incredibly satisfying once you get used to it. Not having to constantly look over your shoulder felt amazing.
Before Fudge could get more flattery in, he was squeezed aside by other Ministers of Magic. Even members of the Acolytes crowded over.
After being stopped and talked at for ages, Lucifer finally managed to extricate himself. He'd planned to invite the 'Scamander family' to dinner, but once the match ended, Newt was already worrying about the Kelpie and the Erumpent back home. After leaving a message in his WhatsApp, he went straight back.
Lanterns lit the road ahead. The way was filled with celebrating Irish fans. Leprechauns zipped through the air, singing absolutely awful songs.
Watching the wild crowd, he frowned slightly, deploying all of his "Doll-Grangers" along the commercial streets to prevent anyone from doing something extreme, of course he was also paying Hermione a "copyright fee" at using her face, she was reluctant at 'first', but then her mother gave a talking to.
She had even gotten quite strange looks when she passed, from people who had matched their facial design, being flushed, Hermione gave those Dolls a new name, "Transformers"
After that he took the girls back to the villa. Tonight was barbecue night. The 'house-elves' had already prepared all the ingredients and tools. Before long, the rich, mouthwatering smell of grilled meat drifted out from the backyard.
xxxxxx
Durmstrang----
"Tell me, Albus. Do you really have that little faith in me?" Inside the Headmaster's office, Grindelwald stared darkly at the elderly man sitting calmly across from him.
He had made it very clear that he wasn't going to watch the World Cup. And yet Dumbledore still didn't trust him enough, coming all the way here just to keep an eye on him.
"No one can afford your sudden flashes of inspiration," he said mildly, dropping another five cubes of sugar and two spoonfuls of honey into his teacup. "Even if I trust you, the Ministers of Magic certainly don't."
Grindelwald let out a mocking laugh. "So once again, you've decided to be their attack dog and block me here?"
"No. I came of my own accord," Dumbledore shook his head seriously, "To avoid trouble later, it's better to suffer a little now. I just want some peace of mind."
"Peace of mind..." he sneered, "Sounds like even you know you've done plenty of guilty things in your lifetime. Now you're pretending to be a good man... Or maybe not pretending. You've always been like this, 'feeling guilty' while plotting against people in the dark."
Every word hit straight to the heart. Yet Dumbledore remained perfectly composed. At his age, he'd learned to let many things go. Compared to the curses he'd endured from Slytherins over the years, Grindelwald's barbs were honestly nothing special. 'Hmm, he still cares about me.'
"I wonder if Ariana would feel sick, seeing how fake you are now."
Dumbledore's smile vanished. He silently took back that last thought. A sharp, icy light flared in his blue eyes. "Gellert Grindelwald, I've tolerated you many times already. If you mention Ariana again, I promise you will pay for it."
Grindelwald instantly leaned into it, all mock innocence, "Really? I don't believe you. I'm just trying to think from Ariana's perspective. Back then, she was such a timid, obedient little girl. Like a frightened rabbit, always on edge..."
The more he spoke, the more emotion crept into his voice. Dumbledore's expression darkened further. His beard lifted slightly, trembling in the air as a crushing pressure filled the room. The 'furniture' began to shake under the weight of it.
"If you want to fight, then fight, you really think I'm afraid of you?" With that, Grindelwald snorted, he shot out through the window, taking the lead.
He felt more alive than ever, free of any guilt toward the girl. And thanks to his recent training, he had fully regained his strength, perhaps even surpassed his 'former' peak.
But that so-called improvement hadn't been very noticeable in the pocket space. After being abused by Mazikeen, then by Lucifer, and even shamelessly going to Makima for advice, he'd still ended up in stalemates where his side could never overpower the other.
It was hard to 'feel' any progress at all.
Now that Dumbledore had delivered himself right to his doorstep, Grindelwald had no intention of letting the opportunity slip. Especially since he'd just acquired a brand-new wand. This was the perfect chance to test its power.
Dumbledore couldn't fly, so he could only summon Fawkes to carry him along. At the same time, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe he really should research a 'flying spell.' Gellert, Voldemort, and Lucifer could fly. And he was still relying on Fawkes every time. Stepping out of a swirling vortex of flames, he was momentarily distracted.
Suddenly, a blinding red flash came hurtling straight at him.
xxxxxx
At the same time, in one of the World Cup camps. Even past midnight, the noise showed no signs of dying down.
Inside a crude tent, a sleeping Black wizard suddenly snapped his eyes open. A sharp light flashed in them.
Stepping out of his tent, he flicked his wand at a drunken man slumped by the roadside, weaving the 'Imperius Curse' into him. Instantly, the man straightened and followed silently in his wake. Moments later, flames shot into the sky, mixed with screams and cries.
A conflict had begun.
"Get up! Ron, Harry! Hurry!"
The urgent shouting jolted Harry awake. He hadn't been sleeping deeply to begin with, and he shot upright at once. "W-what's going on?"
Faint screams and the sound of frantic footsteps drifted in through the open tent flap, along with the sharp smell of something burning.
"No time to explain. Get dressed, now. It's complete chaos outside."
Arthur Weasley pulled a pair of jeans over his pajama bottoms in a rush, not even noticing he'd put them on backwards. Spotting Ron still sprawled out, he gave his youngest son a sharp smack.
Ron yelped and leapt to his feet.
They hurriedly threw on coats and stumbled out of the tent. The disorder was already plain to see. Fires burned everywhere, dark figures surged through the night, and cries echoed from all directions.
"Arthur! Perfect timing!" An Auror swooped down on a broomstick. "It's bad, absolutely out of control! Several nearby camps are full of drunk troublemakers. They're setting fire to anything they see. We're short on people. We need your help!"
"I'm coming right away!" Arthur shouted back. He rolled up his sleeves and drew his wand, then rattled off a few quick instructions to the underage kids before heading off with Charlie and others toward the nearest riot.
Charlie was a dragon handler, used to dealing with 'fire-breathing' monsters and real danger. Bill was a curse-breaker with solid magical skill. With those two along, Arthur felt a bit more at ease.
Harry and others were herded along with the crowd into the woods, panic gnawing at them as they kept glancing back toward the campsite and even farther beyond.
The sky glowed red. Just how many people were involved? No one knew.
Maybe it had started with just a few idiots acting out, but with alcohol and the frenzy of a major sporting event, more and more people let loose the urge to destroy.
A spark can start a wildfire. That can be a good thing, or a very bad one.
From the highest point of the stadium, Shikimori was surveying the chaos below. Her small, usually lively face was now cold with 'killing intent.'
She didn't care if tourists were hurt, or even died. All she knew was this: because of these people, she had ruined her master's mission.
Orders flowed out through her internal communication network, Banfield' Maids were out on 'battle mode', Shikimori jumped down from her perch. One by one, Wizards apparated behind her.
They were elite spellcasters who often worked with Arkham Asylum. Some were there for money, others for rare potions or alchemical tools. It was a simple exchange of needs.
This time, she had paid dearly. The reward was so generous that it was impossible to refuse. Even knowing the danger ahead, they had come without hesitation. After waiting about 'five' minutes and confirming no one else was coming, Shikimori stepped forward without a sound.
"Follow me."
The group moved after her, their discipline tighter than even the Ministry's Aurors. The Arkham Asylum Guild had few rules.
The biggest one was simple: 'never come into conflict with your employer, especially on a mission issued by the Guild itself.'
Some people had once thought they could ignore that rule. They paid for it in blood, Shikimori hadn't been in the world for long, and many of them didn't recognize her.
Still, from the size of the reward, they knew this was someone important. The group quickly reached the nearest camp. Several burly men stood together, laughing loudly as flames sprayed from their wands. Tents and facilities burned all around them. When they noticed approaching wizards, casually turned their fire toward them.
Even with supernatural power at their fingertips, many people had no real sense of how strong they were. Once panic set in, all they could do was run. That 'fear' only fed the attackers' arrogance.
The wizards behind Shikimori were just about to step in when the girl had already rushed forward. The big men noticed her too, one of them bared his teeth in a grin.
"Another one who's not afraid of dying? And just a little girl," he said in a Slavic tongue. He immediately began chanting, red light bursting from his wand toward her chest.
The next instant, Shikimori vanished.
With a wet, sickening sound, her arm punched straight through the man's heart, his companions stared in horror as she pulled her hand back, still clutching a beating heart.
She squeezed lightly. It burst in her grip, warm blood splattering across their faces. They were frozen in shock. Only when the corpse collapsed to ground with a heavy thud did they snap out of it. Their first instinct wasn't revenge.
It was to run.
Thugs who lived by cruelty rarely had strong nerves. That brutal scene shattered what little composure they had left. But Shikimori had already chosen her next target and gave chase. The methods were just as savage.
She crushed one man's throat, then moved on to the next, and the next. In barely a 'dozen seconds,' men who had been so smug moments earlier were all lying dead, their bodies twisted and gruesome.
The wizards who had 'followed' her were stunned into silence. What the hell! This was not a girl. This was a demon... a Demon queen!
Drawing back her blood-soaked arm, a faint look of satisfaction curved her lips, Shikimori possessed Lucifer's most advanced Runic technology. Half of a 'Gremory Family's' Stone served as the energy core within her body.
She commanded more than a hundred spells. But Lucifer had once told her that when emotions surged, she shouldn't suppress, but let them out, fully and honestly, remember that feeling. Only by doing that could she move closer to thinking like a normal "human being."
Shikimori remembered those words followed her instincts and tore her enemies apart in the cruelest ways possible. And sure enough, the satisfaction was... 'overwhelming.'
"What are you still standing around for?" The girl turned back, staring coldly at the mercenaries frozen in place, "I paid you to work. Not to gawk."
"Y-yes!" The group jolted and sprang into action at once. Her icy voice followed their magical cores, "Confiscate every wand from rioters. If anyone resists, kill them."
"Arkham Asylum will judge them."
No one dared object. With Shikimori's words backing, their confidence surged. The camp was huge, and it was already a mess. Her brutal display hadn't really scared anyone, simply because almost no one was paying attention in the 'first' place.
She moved on toward the next pocket of chaos, the stench of blood clinging to her more heavily with every step, girl didn't even use her wand yet, but her left pupil which turned a shade of "white" and right's crimson said everything. Originally, Shikimori had bright blue eyes, however now both had a different 'glowing shade.'
xxxxxx
Outside the Hillside villa, Lucifer had also roused the girls. Panic was written all over their faces, many of their families were still in the camp.
"Lucifer, what do we do now?"
"Deal with the people causing trouble." Rolling his wrist, and with a sharp snap, his wand appeared in his hand, his card case expanded and unfolded flat on the ground, "You go into the small world first. I'll handle the rest..."
The girls didn't hesitate. One by one, they stepped inside, knew staying outside would only get in his way.
After stowing the small world, Lucifer turned into a streak of light and shot toward the nearest camp entrance. He landed lightly, then strolled in as if he were taking a walk after dinner.
Whenever he ran into rioters smashing things, he casually flicked off a spell. The effects of "Kneazle's Curse" were already active. It was a gamble with fate itself. If you were lucky, you didn't trigger anything too twisted and might survive. If you were unlucky.
'Twshh!'
A cloud of blood burst into the air, Lucifer waved his hand in distaste, and a gale swept through, blowing it away in an instant.
Many people were fleeing in their pajamas. Some had gotten separated from their families and were shouting names in desperation, he found a little girl crying alone, returned her to her parents, earning a loud kiss on the cheek as thanks.
By the time he left the first camp, he had no idea how many people he'd killed. The bundle of confiscated wands in his hand already numbered over thirty. At the second camp, before he even stepped inside, he heard a familiar voice.
"All Beauxbatons students! Have your parents bring you to me, now!"
Madame Maxime stood tall, her wand glowing with white light. Her deep, steady voice carried far. More and more people gathered around her, copying her gesture by lighting their wands and raising them high to draw others in.
"Madame, you truly live up to being Beauxbatons' headmistress," Lucifer said as he landed nearby, offering praise without reserve.
This alone earned Beauxbatons a lot of respect. This was what real composure and class looked like.
"Mr. Morningstar?" She looked both surprised and pleased. A man and a woman rushed out of the crowd. Darcy's father, Monsieur Valentine, asked anxiously, "Son, where's Darcy and Annabelle?"
Lucifer simply released the girls again, letting them gather around Madame Maxime. It was a rare experience like this, and missing it would be a shame. Suddenly, a shrill scream rang out from the northern end of the camp.
From the sound alone, he immediately recognized the effects of the 'Cruciatus Curse'. He took off at once, flying ahead. Madame Maxime hurried after him with the others, but their speed couldn't compare to his.
At the edge of the camp, a massive crowd of wizards had gathered. A rough count put them at over five hundred.
Several wizards lay scattered on the ground, unconscious and twisted at odd angles, clearly struck by spells. The screams were coming from a few Ministry employees suspended in midair. The entire area was bathed in red light.
"Lucifer Morningstar!"
Someone shouted his name.
"'It's Lucifer from Arkham Asylum! Grab him! He's rich!"
"That's right." Lucifer smiled and nodded, "I am rich. I've got a hundred thousand Galleons on me right now, plus plenty of unregistered bank cards. Want them?" He could clearly hear the heavy breathing rippling through crowd. A hundred thousand Galleons was more than enough to drive people mad.
"Survive," he said gently, like he was coaxing children, "and you can have it." Lucifer slowly extended his hand, palm facing upward. A phantom-blue spellbook shimmered into existence in his grasp. Rivers of radiant light poured into his palm as the book swelled, growing larger by second.
"Do it! So what if he's a genius? There are more of us!"
The voice came from deep within the crowd, Lucifer glanced that way. Even the night couldn't hide anything from his sharp eyes. He memorized the speaker's face. When a mob was steered by someone with intent, it could unleash terrifying power.
Driven by the lure of a hundred thousand Galleons, drunks, Quidditch hooligans, and outright Dark Wizards all lost their minds.
Someone Apparated, crossing more than five hundred feet in an instant to appear near Lucifer. The boy merely slid him a glance, meeting eyes filled with naked greed. The next moment, life winked out. Consciousness sank into endless darkness.
'Thud!'
Lucifer looked away. The rioters were shaken, they had no idea what spell he'd just used. Some, however, were whipped into even greater frenzy and 'fired' off curses without hesitation.
Dozens of multicolored streaks tore through the night like meteors, all rushing toward the boy.
The boy's face turned gleeful. The enormous spectral book began to flip its pages with a loud rustling sound. Each page turn sent several streaks of light shooting out. The faster the pages flipped, denser the barrage became, until it formed a roaring wall of spellfire. The curses aimed were swallowed in an instant.
The torrent didn't stop. It surged straight toward the rioters.
This kind of attack left people completely at a loss. They had no idea what it even was. Instinctively, they threw up 'Shield Charms.'
Others weren't quick enough, or simply lacked the skill. In a moment's daze, they were smashed by countless spells. Even those with shields fared badly, watched in horror as cracks spread across their protective barriers before shattering completely.
"Spread out! Everyone spread out!" A vicious-looking witch shrieked. "Standing together just makes us targets for 'Morningstar!"
The crowd scattered like startled birds. Countless spells slammed into empty ground. The witch had barely managed a smug smile when dozens of blue lightning bolts crashed down on her. Her "Shield Charm" collapsed like wet paper. Electricity tore through her body, hair standing on end as smoke poured from her mouth before she crumpled to the ground.
Kill them all? Lucifer wouldn't show mercy to the drunkards and loudmouth troublemakers.
But that woman, and the wizard who'd deliberately incited the crowd earlier, were clearly targeting him, they were a couple, and were worth keeping alive for "questioning."
Lucifer didn't believe that today's events were random. The chaos had come too fast, and precise. Someone had clearly orchestrated it.
A whirlwind swept through, flinging the unconscious bodies aside, he rose back into the air, claiming high ground to better control battlefield.
He held the spellbook in one hand and pointed skyward with the other.
A piercing cry rang out.
A clear phoenix call split the night as a golden-red phantom burst into existence behind him, soaring straight into the sky. It became a blazing sun in the darkness, illuminating every face below.
"Damn it, that brat can fly!" A drunk roared in fury. "If you've got guts, come down here!"
Green light fell from the sky and sank into his body. The shockwave blasted him high into the air. He was dead before he hit the ground. In this situation, one death meant almost nothing.
The rioters launched themselves into a frenzy of attacks. They were a disorganized mob, with no coordination or rhythm.
Many spells even collided with each other midair, but when there were enough of them, sheer numbers could still create pressure. Lucifer still didn't bother raising a Defensive charm. After a brief pause, the spellbook accelerated again, pages flipping faster as endless spells poured out. "Kill them all! Burn them! Burn every last one! Lucifer, set them on fire-now! Hurry! If only I were there myself... hahahaha!"

"It's already over for you!~~"
In Hell's Domain, Jaku'un, youngest of the 'Seven Thunder Gods' was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. Excitement and savage delight was twisting her beautiful face. She wished she could rush out herself and unleash the 'judgment venom's curse' that had once created her, wiping out everyone who dared stand against her.
Gazing upwards, he smirked.

The "phantom phoenix" in the sky spread its wings and soared. One man stood head-on against several hundred others, and the clash was completely one-sided, crushing the maniacal crowd. The boy strode through the air as though it were solid ground, unhurried and at ease.
Spells spilled from pages of the book and hunted their targets on their own, 'Petrification Charms, Knockback Jinxes, and Body-Bind Curses.'
Stupefying Charms. Smashing spells. Blasting curses, Confundus charms. And the deadliest of all, the 'Killing Curse.' The rioters wailed and sobbed in despair.
They couldn't understand how someone could rain down spells like a storm, overpowering them, all while calmly controlling the entire battlefield like some unfeeling god.
Some tried to Apparate away, only to be lashed out of the air by whip-like spells. Their screams were cut short as lower bodies vanished, insides spilling out in a horrifying mess.
Madame Maxime and the wizards gathered around her stared upward, utterly shaken by the sight.
The boy in midair looked like he was playing a game of whack-a-mole, and not even a careful one. Whether the moles covered their heads or begged made no difference. They were smashed all the same. Lives were vanishing in seconds, none of them had ever witnessed death on this scale among wizards.
Was he a devil? Or a Savior?
'Clap, clap, clap!'
Annabelle being cradled in Darcy's arms, suddenly started clapping happily, breaking the eerie silence.
"A-Annabelle, what are you doing?" Her best friend Gabrielle whispered urgently, she too was being help by her older sister, Fleur right now who was trembling herself.
"Lucifer is amazing!" The little girl declared proudly, "He beat all the bad guys. He's a big hero!" The innocent words hit the crowd like a shock.
She was right. If Lucifer hadn't been there, and those hundreds of rioters had charged in, ones lying broken on the ground right now would have been them.
"That's right!" Madame Maxime said loudly, "Mr. Morningstar is fighting to protect what's right. If he hesitated, the ones in danger would be him. It would be all of us!"
"Everyone stay calm. Don't interfere with his actions. Don't cast spells recklessly, or you might hurt allies."
Her words carried weight. The crowd quickly steadied themselves. Darcy smiled and kissed Annabelle on the cheek, smearing saliva all over her chubby, pink face.
"Good job, sister. Lucifer really didn't spoil you for nothing." Darcy had been worried that her boyfriend's ruthless methods might backfire, that people would start seeing him as a monster. But with Annabelle's pure, unfiltered praise, the mood shifted instantly.
The little girl looked confused, having no idea why her sister was praising her, but she still puffed out her chest proudly.
"That's right! Lucifer likes me the most!" Her adorable confidence drew warm smiles from those nearby.
While that said boy had no idea how the mood below was changing. Even if he did, wouldn't care, things were different now.
In the past, he had been constrained at every turn. Even dealing with the 'Graves family' had required staying within the rules. But now? What was there to fear? Dumbledore and Voldemort together still wouldn't be his match. Grindelwald, leading his 'followers,' was more than enough to sweep the world clean. So why should he keep holding himself back?
Sensing the surge of murderous intent from its master, spellbook swelled in size once more. The spells flying from its pages grew sharper, more vicious.
The rioters scattered in panic. Aside from those who risked tearing themselves apart by Apparating, everyone else was trapped in this sealed killing field.
"Fire, clear the way!"
Lucifer clenched his hand. Four towering walls of 'flame' erupted around the perimeter, slowly closing in toward the center. The spellbook's pages slowed, then finally closed. It dissolved into specks of starlight and vanished. When the flames died down, hundreds of bodies were revealed.
There might have been a few survivors, but for the most part, they were thoroughly cooked.
The few wizards he had singled out earlier were nowhere to be seen, they had been deliberately removed. A sudden clarity rose in Lucifer's mind.
Trelawney's prophecy had been accurate, and yet not quite. He would face danger? No.
He 'was' the danger. From the moment Lucifer appeared to chaos was brought under control, only five minutes passed.
Of course, that was just this one camp.
"Darcy, you stay with Madame Maxime. I'll go check the other areas."
The boy gave Maxime a slight nod, then took off toward the other camps with phantom image of a phoenix blazing in the sky above him. At the same time, streaks of light kept bursting from his wand. Unlike ordinary spells, they didn't 'fade' after being cast. Instead, they followed behind him, flying along in his wake.
By the time he reached the next camp, a Dragon made entirely of spells had already taken shape.
Lucifer didn't slow down at all. He swept across the sky, and when spell dragon entered the camp, it automatically broke apart into countless individual spells. With the holy power of 'Saint Jeanne', he could easily tell good from evil. Every spell followed his will, striking targets according to the intensity of their malicious intent.
When spell-dragon left the camp, its size had shrunk by more than half, but it was quickly replenished again.
At this point, Lucifer no longer had to think about how much magic he was using. His total magical reserves were even more terrifying than Godric', and paired with his powerful recovery ability, effectively had an infinite mana bar. What really demanded careful management was his mental focus.
'Precisely' controlling spells to weave around innocent bystanders and strike only the rioters was no simple task. Magic was about acting on instinct, but the mind still had to hold every detail clearly at once.
The situation was far too chaotic. Even though the Doll Granger's were present, they couldn't accurately distinguish friend from foe in such a complex environment, so they were limited to basic protection duties.
On another front, Shikimori was picking up speed as well. In addition to members of Arkham Asylum, Banfield' Maids, several bold and capable wizards had joined their ranks. And then it happened.
High in the sky, a burst of green light exploded. The color was identical to that of the 'Killing Curse.' The scattered lights rapidly assembled themselves into a massive skull.
From the skull's mouth emerged a gigantic python, like a grotesque tongue. The skull rose higher and higher, resembling a newly formed constellation or a neon sign, illuminating the surrounding area.
A large number of British wizards who saw it sucked in sharp breaths, their throats tightening as if someone were choking them, unable to speak.
"What... what is that?" Harry, standing with a group in a small wooded area, saw it too. He noticed the people around him turning deathly pale, terror written all over their faces.
"That's the 'Dark Mark," Fred said after taking a deep breath. "The symbol of You-Know-Who."
"But... it's just a symbol, isn't it?" Harry still didn't understand why everyone was reacting so strongly. Voldemort himself wasn't actually here. Was it really worth being this afraid?
"Potter, you don't understand."
Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood, spoke in a near whisper. "To every British wizard, the Dark Mark is a nightmare. Back then, whenever 'You-Know-Who' and his followers committed atrocities, they always left this mark behind.nSeeing it means a tragedy has already happened. Imagine this: you work all day, exhausted, finally come home, and there's a Dark Mark hovering over your roof.... How would you feel, knowing what you're about to find inside? It's every wizard's worst fear. The absolute worst."
This time, Harry's hands and feet went ice-cold. His mind flashed back to that night, the one he had dreamed of countless times.
"Heh... the Dark Mark?" Mazikeen could see the enormous skull in the sky as well. She let out a cold laugh.
This was the most remote camp, reserved exclusively for Grindelwald Acolytes and Wizards from regions under his control.
"That muck-brained idiot really has a flair for theatrics," She scoffed. "But if I remember right, this trick was something Grindelwald used first, wasn't it?" She turned her head to look at the woman beside her.
Vinda Rosier tugged at the corner of her mouth, then gave a slight nod, "Back then, Sir Grindelwald used the 'Deathly Hallows' symbol to gather allies. But he would never flaunt it the way Voldemort does."
"Bullshit," Mazikeen shot back without any politeness, "I clearly remember Berlin and Hutan. You lot set those marks off like fireworks. If that's not showing off, what is? Tsk. He's no different from Voldemort. Just more clever, 'better' at dressing it up."
The people standing behind her were all core members of the Acolytes, Grindelwald's most fanatical followers. The old men and women lowered their heads, pretending they hadn't heard a thing.
Nothing this young lady said was surprising anymore. It wasn't the first time they'd seen her argue with Grindelwald, arguments that ended with spells, and her blades 'flying', 'Avada Kedavra' being cast without hesitation.
When Morningstar spoke with Grindelwald, he at least treated him as an equal. This woman, on the other hand, seemed determined to bully the old man at every opportunity.
And every time, Mazikeen came out on top, forcing Grindelwald to back down again and again, conceding one condition after another.
"Vinda." After staring at the Dark Mark for a moment longer, she spoke again, "Go. Blow that thing up."
Vinda immediately raised her wand and released the triangular symbol of the 'Deathly Hallows', slamming it straight into the Dark Mark. The massive skull shattered like fireworks in the sky.
Only then did Mazikeen nod in satisfaction, "Let's go."
"Go where?" Vogel asked, confused.
"To kill people," She replied as if it were obvious. "They caused trouble at an event Lucifer was hosting. That's a multiversal 'felony."
Vogel looked troubled. "Miss... it's not that we don't want to help. But our identities are sensitive. If we move openly, people will misunderstand. When that happens, no one will know who's fighting who."
Mazikeen's expression turned icy in an instant. "What, Grindelwald can give you orders, but I can't?"
Shuddering Vogel, nodded repeatedly. "You can, Miss. Of course you can."
"Then stop talking nonsense and move." Very quickly, nearly a hundred Acolytes were gathered by Vinda and Vogel, Mazikeen pulled up a black hood, hiding herself completely within a wide cloak that obscured her burnt 'demonic face,' with her subordinates in tow, she set off in force.
In the darkness, a figure perfectly blended into surroundings watched the Dark Mark shatter. He snorted coldly, narrow eyes squinting as venomous light spilled out.
"Grindelwald..."
To British wizards, the Dark Mark was a nightmare. As for the 'Deathly Hallows' symbol, it was a taboo across entire European continent, even the whole Wizarding world, except for the Acolytes.
Most people didn't even know the 'Deathly Hallows' existed, let alone understand what the symbol truly meant. They had never seen it with their own eyes.
But the bloody legends passed down from their elders, combined with what Grindelwald had done since his return, were more than enough to terrify them.
Now things were really spiraling out of control. Lucifer hadn't expected Mazikeen to jump in at all. This was a textbook case of good intentions making everything worse.
With a helpless sigh, he directed the phoenix that had been shining above him toward the 'Deathly Hallows' symbol. At the same time, he released a black snake. When the 'Deathly Hallows' mark followed the Dark Mark into oblivion, cry of the phoenix and the hissing of the Ouroborus snake echoed across the night sky.
A Black Snake and a Phoenix together formed the Morningstar 'family' crest, and also the emblem of the Arkham Asylum Guild.
The face of the man hiding in the shadows darkened even further. That man was, of course, 'Voldemort.'
For now, he still didn't dare return to Britain, not with Lucifer and Dumbledore watching so closely. His resurrection was at a critical stage, but he couldn't stand seeing the Mudblood bask in success either. That was why he had chosen to use an eye to observe the situation up close and stir up some trouble to vent his anger.
He had been rather pleased with himself at first. But watching his 'Dark Mark' get torn apart so easily ruined his mood completely.
When Mazikeen reached the first camp, she finally realized she had messed up. The drunken troublemakers sobered up instantly.
The Quidditch hooligans quickly shifted their focus. Even many of the ordinary wizards who had been fleeing in panic pulled out their wands and stared warily at the Acolytes. Mazikeen hurriedly split her attention and apologized to Lucifer through her connection.
Given the situation, even he, looking through Maze's perspective, admitted that if he didn't know the truth, he would have assumed the Acolytes were taking advantage of chaos to wipe out their enemies.
Just as a clash seemed inevitable, a rapid series of explosions rang out. More than 'fifty' wizards descended from above.
They were reinforcements summoned by Aurors tasked with monitoring the Acolytes. Leading them was the Head of the Auror Office, 'Rufus Scrimgeour.'
"Rosier, what do you think you're doing?" Scrimgeour's expression was grim. Things were already bad enough. Was all of this Grindelwald's plot?
"I invited them to help maintain order." Lucifer's voice descended from the sky. Instantly, the Aurors felt their bodies grow heavy, as if pressure itself had taken physical form, "Arrest the ones who were causing trouble earlier, Rufus. Don't make things worse."
"'Move."
The boy himself never showed up.
Scrimgeour's face darkened dangerously. He was the Head of the Auror Office, yet here he was being ordered around in front of so many people. With Lucifer's approval, Vinda immediately directed the Acolytes to start arresting the troublemakers. Only then did tourists finally believe the Acolytes weren't here to arrest them, and they stepped forward to identify the culprits.
By the time Lucifer finally regrouped with Shikimori, all twenty camps had been properly stabilized.
Fudge and the other ministers arrived fashionably late, "Merlin..." He almost wailed as he spoke. Staring at the bodies on the ground, he felt like he was seeing his own future. How could someone cause this much chaos?
What Fudge didn't know was that the real trouble was still ahead. As today's victim, Lucifer Morningstar was only now baring his fangs. One number after another was reported by Ministry officials and by Maids, who was overseeing the statistics.
With each figure spoken aloud, Fudge's face grew a shade grayer.
The time frame had been too short and the scene far too chaotic. Many of the numbers were still rough estimates. But one thing was certain, the real losses and casualties were only going to be higher.
Fudge desperately wanted to faint and use that as an excuse to escape what was coming. But after imagining the consequences, he forced himself to stay upright.
The death toll had exceeded a thousand.
"M-Morningstar..." Fudge's voice shook, "Are you sure that number is correct? Could it be... a hundred instead?"
As if. A hundred would already be horrifying, but compared to a thousand it was nothing. And this wasn't injuries, these were deaths.
What did over a thousand dead wizards even mean? All seven years at Hogwarts combined didn't add up to that many people. If those deaths were mostly British wizards, it would mean an entire generation wiped out. The very 'foundation' of the country would be shaken.
"Closer to fifteen hundred," Lucifer said flatly, stepping in to save the Ministry official from further questioning, "I personally ran into two large marching groups. This wasn't a simple riot fueled by emotion. It was organized, deliberate, and planned...When you're dealing with mobs that clearly mean harm, you hit back hard. What, were we supposed to let innocent civilians die instead?"
Fudge stammered, completely at a loss for how to respond. In the end, he could only mutter, "M-Mr Morningstar makes... a very profound point."
As more reports came in, the faces of the other countries' Ministers and senior officials grew just as grim. One of them 'finally' spoke up, demanding in broken English, "Morningstar, who gave you the right to kill wizards from our countries? Even if they committed crimes, they should have been restrained and handed over to us!"
"From the Spanish Ministry, I believe?" Lucifer looked at him with mild curiosity. Shikimori nodded without expression.
"Correct. Director of the 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' Head of the Doflamingo family."
Doflamingo's scalp prickled. He had the distinct feeling that young man in front of him could recite his entire 'family' tree at any moment.
"Madam Rosier." Lucifer raised his voice slightly, and she immediately stepped forward.
"Yes, Mr Morningstar?"
"Do you see this?" He gestured toward the flustered Doflamingo. "The 'Spanish Ministry' doesn't seem particularly concerned about safety of its own citizens, yet it's eager to defend violent criminals who caused chaos everywhere. One can easily imagine the state of public security there. I'm deeply worried about the safety of my employees in Spain. Go back and... ask Mr. Grindelwald if he's interested in taking over there. I've found working with him quite pleasant."
Smiling politely, Vinda dipped into a graceful bow, every movement elegant and refined. "Mr Morningstar, we would be delighted to cooperate with you. This is a minor matter. I can make the decision myself. Please rest assured. By the time you return to school, public order there will have improved considerably."
Doflamingo felt like he'd been struck by lightning. His face drained of all color. He had only tried to act tough, to show Morningstar that Spain wasn't a pushover. He'd hoped to seize some initiative, maybe even wring out "compensation."
Instead, he'd practically invited the Acolytes straight into his country.
"D-Did you hear that?" Doflamingo cried shakily, turning to the others for help, "Morningstar is going to cooperate with Dark Lord. He's going to invade my country. Grindelwald is violating the Blood Pact!"
The other officials scattered away from him as if he were carrying the plague. You want to die? Don't drag us with you. The Blood Pact restricted Grindelwald, not the Acolytes. You handed them a knife and gave them an excuse.
And now you want help? Get lost.