Still, Vinda's attitude left them deeply uneasy. The level of cooperation between Morningstar and Grindelwald was far closer than they'd imagined. If those two truly joined forces without restraint, wouldn't the whole world be doomed?
"Gentlemen." Lucifer ignored Doflamingo's ashen face and turned his cold gaze toward the other Ministers, "For this event, Arkham Asylum invested enormous effort. All we wanted was to provide a perfect stage for everyone to enjoy a grand celebration....But what did these people do?" The boy's expression darkened, "Robbery. Theft. Arson. 'Murder.' And some even fanned the flames deliberately, targeting me. The ones who died should consider themselves lucky. As for still alive..."
He let out a cold laugh, "The Guild is holding them. Anyone captured by the Ministry will be handed over as well... Either their countries' Ministries pay to redeem them, or their 'families' do. You want to take them back without paying a price? Not happening."
The killing intent behind those words was overwhelming. Of the more than a thousand dead, at least half had fallen by Lucifer's hand. Voldemort had worked his entire life and never matched his single night of results. The accumulated murderous aura was something these pampered officials had no hope of enduring.
No one dared raise an objection. They all nodded along meekly.
Before this moment, they had dealt with Lucifer as a powerful young leader. Now, they were facing a true Dark Lord.
"..." Only Fudge felt a wave of relief wash over him, mentally showering the boy with gratitude.
Morningstar really was a good guy.
He might have taken the biggest slice of the cake, but when things went wrong, he actually stepped up. Fudge had been worrying himself sick over how to 'face' the storm of criticism from the newspapers.
Now, Lucifer had taken everything onto his own shoulders. That media firestorm wasn't going to hit him anymore.
Watching Rita Skeeter in the distance, her camera flashing nonstop as she and her assistant snapped photos, Fudge could already imagine how brutal the next day's papers would be. He even felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if he should take some of the blame.
What he didn't know was that Rita had already secured her cover shot. But it wasn't meant to criticize at all.
A handsome young man stood tall and commanding, while the officials opposite him cringed and fawned. The contrast was irresistible.
As expected of Rita Skeeter, always knew how to frame things.
"What do you think the headline should be?" She asked her assistant, practically bouncing with excitement. "The Savior of Justice? The Wizarding World's Guardian of Order? Or something more blunt, like The Incompetent Ministry?"
Before her wide-eyed assistant could answer, Rita lost interest and waved a hand, "Never mind. Mr Morningstar doesn't like subtle reporting. He prefers it blunt, too many idiots in the wizarding world. If you write anything too nuanced, they won't understand a word."
"So what headline are you going with?" The assistant couldn't help asking.
Rita adjusted her glasses and looked at the boy who was currently lecturing a group of Ministry power holders like unruly grandchildren, "The Birth of a Magical Lord.' Not some Dark Lord, and not a hypocritical White Lord like Dumbledore. Just a pure Magical Lord, that everyone has to bow to."
Her heart was racing with excitement. In the past, she'd had to rely on distortion and outright fabrication to grab attention. This time, she didn't need any of that. Today's report alone would cause a bigger stir than everything she'd written before.
Before long, many of the wizards gathered there began to disperse.
"Miyako, I'll leave the task of detaining the prisoners to you," Lucifer said calmly to the pink haired girl removing blood, "They're captives now, not enemies. Don't kill them casually. Of course, if anyone refuses to behave, you can keep doing so."
He spoke patiently, as if offering gentle guidance. Shikimori nodded repeatedly, hugging a watermelon she'd just received as a reward. Sirius and the others had gone to put out fires, but Lucifer had kept Lupin behind, who was careful and detail-oriented, perfect as support.
After sending her off, he had Vinda lead her people back to their own camp. As for Mazikeen, she had slipped away long ago. Lucifer flew through the air, feeling fairly satisfied with how things had turned out.
Did he really not know a riot would happen? With Ellie, Chronoa, and Kurumi's time-related ability, he had seen countless possible futures. Without exception, a riot tonight was inevitable. The only difference was how big it would be.
There were simply too many people. The Ministry's handful of Aurors, plus a few hundred hired by Arkham, added up to 'fewer' than a thousand. And they were supposed to restrain three hundred thousand people?
That was never realistic.
Unless he had blocked every potential risk from the start and kept those people out of the venue entirely. That would have taken enormous effort and earned him nothing but resentment.
The World Cup had essentially been organized by the Arkham Asylum Guild, meaning by him. On the surface, it looked like his event had been wrecked and his prestige damaged. In reality, this wasn't a bad outcome at all.
There was an old saying: 'Cowards fear the strong, not the just.'
A perfectly concluded festival might leave warm memories, but once it was over, it was over. Disasters and bloodshed, on the other hand, etched themselves into people's minds. Years later, even decades later, they would still remember.
A riot, followed by overwhelming suppression. Using blood to shock the world. That was how his influence and authority would grow to their maximum.
Aside from Doflamingo, who had completely misjudged the situation, rest of the Ministry elites were thoroughly cowed by thousand-plus deaths. There were also countries like Russia that hadn't sent official representatives, but plenty of their fans had been arrested, drunken fools who had drowned themselves in vodka.
With those people in custody, establishing a Guild branch there would be perfectly justified.
Lucifer inhaled deeply, the smell of blood lingering in the air, night was destined to be sleepless. More than a hundred thousand wizards couldn't sleep, even closing their eyes made their hearts race with unease.
The riot was over, but its aftermath was only just beginning.
Some people had been separated from their friends and family. Some had botched Apparition and ended up horribly injured. Others had lost loved ones outright in the chaos.
For many women, it felt like the sky had collapsed. Wasn't their man just supposed to go out for a few drinks, celebrate with friends, and finally watch an amazing match? How did it all end up like this?
A few people tried to stir up trouble, but Shikimori marched through the camps with the Doll Granger's, Maids' and a large number of 'Arkham Asylum' mercenaries. Camp by camp, they passed through, and everywhere they went, voices fell silent.
The Doll Granger's carried several injured bodies in their massive hands. The brutality forced everyone to calm down, Quietly, Asylum's image in people's minds began to change.
Before, many had seen it as nothing more than a place to earn some extra cash, a kind of middleman for hiring help. But now? This was harsher than any Ministry of Magic.
No, the Ministry didn't even deserve to be compared. They hesitated forever just to arrest someone, worrying about procedures and court hearings. The Guild didn't bother with any of that. If they 'felt' you were guilty, they acted. Immediately.
Rumors spread through the camps like wildfire. Stories of Lucifer fighting five hundred alone, slaughtering his way through more than twenty camps without even blinking.
He had become a name that could make a child cry, 'feared' like Voldemort in the old tales.
After a few hours, the Portkey distribution area was packed to bursting. Ministry employees' hands were cramping from making Portkeys nonstop. There were just too many people, way too many.
A lot of visitors had originally planned to stay a few extra days. The commercial streets were full of interesting things they hadn't even finished browsing. Leaving right after a match felt like a waste.
But now? Who would want to stay in this hellhole? If a riot could happen once, it could happen again. Better to leave quickly. Britain was too dangerous, they wanted to go home.
Many people tried to dump the blame on Britain, but in truth, the 'British Ministry of Magic' couldn't carry that pot even if it wanted to.
Local wizards might not have been particularly polite, but the 'foreign' gangs were far worse. Most of the troublemakers were outsiders.
As for the locals, it was mostly a few bored 'pure-blood' families. Years of pent-up frustration, fueled by alcohol, finally exploded. They set a few fires, tortured a handful of wizards, and were promptly smashed senseless by sweeping waves of spells.
Honestly, seeing Lucifer soaring through the sky sobered them up more than half. Out of more than twenty 'former' Death Eaters, only three had actually fallen.
Compared to numbers in thousands, that really wasn't much. There was one small incident afterward. When Shikimori went to make arrests, Scrimgeour stepped in to block her.
"Going after those foreign punks is one thing," he said calmly. "We arrest them and hand over to their own Ministries anyway. But these people? They are British. There's no way we can just give them up. If we do, what's the point of the 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement?' The Ministry would be nothing but a decoration."
Scrimgeour rattled on at length, full of righteous indignation. He earned admiring looks from the young Aurors behind him.
He also earned a barrage of hexes from Shikimori. If Lupin hadn't intervened, the Auror Office would have needed a new head on the spot.
Lucifer was still human, and retained a basic level of courtesy and respect for legitimate governing bodies.
But Shikimori only cared about her master's orders. Moving as fast as possible, Lupin took several mercenaries and took custody of all the 'Death Eaters.' Only then did the conflict finally die down.
Throughout the entire process, Shikimori never once spared Scrimgeour a glance, whose face cycled through red, yellow, and green like a traffic light, and then he simply passed out on the spot.
Elsewhere, Lucifer was personally delivering the girls to their parents, even though they already knew through WhatsApp that their 'families' were safe, it would have been inappropriate for daughters to stay behind in the villa enjoying comfort.
Back at the villa, he summoned Mazikeen, pulled her over his knee, and gave her a spanking. This time, she didn't dare talk back, and took it obediently, sniffling the whole time.
"Lucifer... I was wrong..."
Only when he could clearly feel that both sides of the women's bottom were swollen did he stop. With a thought, the power of his magic restored her completely.
"Alright. Get up."
Standing obediently, saying nothing, Mazikeen hugged the boy's arm.
"Do you know why I hit you?" He asked softly.
"Because I did something wrong."
"Then do you know what kind of people I hate the most?"
She froze. This time, didn't answer right away, Mazikeen actually thought about it seriously....Ugly people? That was definitely one of them. But if she said that out loud now, she'd probably get smacked again.
"...Traitors." She finally gave her answer.
Lucifer shook his head immediately. "Traitors? They aren't worth hating. If you're capable, you kill them the moment they betray you... And if you're not, what right do you have to demand loyalty from anyone? The people I hate most are idiots," he turned her face so she had no choice but to meet his gaze, "Idiotic partners."
Mazikeen's eyes reddened instantly. Seeing that, he added calmly, "You're not that far gone. You were just stupid 'twice', last time I had to owe a favour to Constantine...Next time, think things through. I know you meant well and ended up doing harm, but that's exactly what hurts the most. No matter what your intentions are, the result is right there in front of you. When you wanted to bring people out, didn't... Vinda stop you?"
At that, hernguilt deepened. "She did...Vogel also disagreed. But at the time, I..." Mazikeen trailed off. How was she supposed to explain it? That she'd been angry those people ruined the event Lucifer had organized, and then saw the Dark Mark which she had read on 'flaunting' itself in the sky, so she rushed out on her Demonic instincts to murder without thinking?
Just like Lucifer said. Good intentions that caused bad results were still bad intentions.
"I was wrong," She admitted it again, no longer trying to defend herself. That attitude satisfied Lucifer. At least she had understood what he meant.
"Everyone makes mistakes. Just think more before you make decisions. What if you run into danger? What if the consequences spiral out of your control like... 'that day?' As long as you're strong enough to bear it, then it isn't a mistake...."
"I understand." Mazikeen nodded seriously, taking his words to heart.
"Alright. Go rest." Lucifer ruffled her hair and gently set her back on her feet. She knew he had plenty to deal with, didn't cling to him, and left the Mortal plane at once.
While Lucifer stepped into his small world. He'd captured eight people in total. Either he could clearly feel their hostility toward him was far stronger than anyone else's, or they were the ones secretly inciting the marchers to violence.
After questioning them, it turned out five of them all had different motives. Two had been placed under the 'Imperius Curse', and their intended target was him.
"Voldemort?" The boy pondered quietly. He didn't have many enemies, and most of them were already dead. The first suspect was naturally Little Voldy. But strength of the 'Imperius Curse' was far too weak.
Lucifer knew Voldemort's personality well. Calling him cowardly was practically praising his bravery. After getting beaten senseless last time, he'd recovered this fast and come straight to Britain to mess with him again?
More likely he'd sent underlings to cause trouble, or used some indirect dark magic method. Either way, he didn't believe he'd dare show up in person right now.
He tried to trace the source, but the magical trail dissipated after a short distance, Lucifer didn't bother pressing further. He released the two unlucky fools who'd been controlled, and cleanly eliminated the other three with ulterior motives.
xxxxxx
Dawn crept in through the sky, and Lady Greengrass had already started swearing loudly, cursing her husband's in-laws 'family' that didn't even exist.
The 'Transportation Department' had moved its offices from the Ministry to the camp's commercial street. Even before sunrise, wizards had begun lining up to receive Portkeys home.
By eight in the morning, the queue stretched for several kilometers and was still growing. Making Portkeys wasn't particularly difficult. Many wizards knew the spell, but private production was illegal. More importantly, the wizards still here came from all over the world.
Creating a short-range Portkey was one thing. Crossing oceans was another matter entirely.
That kind of work was best left to professionals. The 'Transportation Department' had several Portkey experts working nonstop since midnight. Their hands were cramping badly, yet the line showed no signs of shrinking.
Ministry employees technically had the home field advantage and could Apparate back directly, but every single one of them was kept behind to maintain order.
If anything went wrong with this crowd, Fudge really would have to resign in disgrace.
The commercial street that had been packed with people just yesterday now looked desolate. Very few shops were open, aside from stores selling daily necessities and snacks, there was almost no foot traffic.
Lucifer generously refunded the rent, easing the merchants' losses.
They were grateful to him, and at the same time furious at yesterday's troublemakers. If not for the riot, they could have made a lot of money.
Meanwhile, the Guild showed just how much talent they had, Shikimori brought in several wizards skilled at Portkey crafting to help out, relieving a great deal of Lady Greengrass's burden. Watching the pink-haired girl work efficiently, Evelyn was seriously tempted to adopt another goddaughter, like Tracey, and Lucifer.
Shikimori was just too sensible. Nothing like the 'living menace' in her own house.Well... sometimes, people really did summon trouble just by thinking about it.
After hearing from Astoria that she'd missed an incredible show, the eldest young lady finally arrived. Not getting to witness Lucifer going all-out had Daphne furious. She threw a proper tantrum that lasted quite a while.
"That bastard..."
Darcy, who had only just arrived herself, narrowed her eyes. With Veela blood in her veins, she was unusually sensitive on a mental level. She could clearly sense that something about Greengrass had changed, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Pressure?
No... not exactly.
Then what was this strange sense of oppression?
In her eyes, Daphne's greatest defining trait had always been her 'absurd luck.' Born into a pure-blood family with deep roots, she'd met Lucifer almost as soon as she started school.
Back then, he hadn't shown anything extraordinary at all, yet she had latched onto him without hesitation.
Miss Valentine and the others all knew this much. In Lucifer's heart, the place of Hermione and Daphne's were different from the rest of them.
In the matter of Slytherin girl, she suspected that if Daphne ever asked for the stars, Lucifer would seriously consider how to get them for her.
This spoiled girl had never faced any setbacks in her life. Her backing only grew stronger by the day. She'd evolved from carefree into something closer to "shamelessly fearless."
And yet now, Daphne was somehow making Valentine feel pressured. Just what kind of miracle drug had Lucifer fed her? She couldn't figure it out, glanced around the room and looked at Hermione.
"Where's he?"
"No idea," Hermione shook her head, she was so baffled calming down her family, who threatened to ban watching any Quidditch matches, even at Hogwarts, "He went out early this morning. He'll probably be busy all day...."
Nodding in understanding, Darcy knew Shikimori might have been responsible for arresting people, but cleaning up afterward was the real headache.
"Let's go!" Daphne suddenly declared after venting enough, grabbing Astoria by the hand and dragging her toward the door.
"Huh? Sis, where are you going?"
"I'm going to make some Portkeys and sell them. Earn a little pocket money!"
Making Galleons wasn't the point. The important thing was that she 'finally' had a day off, and she refused to waste it without finding some fun.
Seeing how fired up her sister looked, Astoria worried Daphne might cause trouble. Still, she obediently followed along. The two girls dashed out, mounted their brooms, and flew toward commercial street. Up in the clouds, a shadow 'flickered' in and out of sight, silently tailing them.
xxxxxx
Camp Three, inside a tent----
Lucifer sat sprawled in his chair, posture relaxed but imposing, his indifferent gaze sweeping over the line of people standing before him. They were all dressed in black robes, and they even dared to look him straight in the eye.
These were the Death Eaters who had caused trouble the night before.
"Well, this is unexpected..."
The boy lowered his head and slowly sipped his hot tea, blowing lightly across the surface. "Gentlemen, by rights you're all my seniors. We're all Slytherins. Your sons and daughters are even my classmates at school. If you think about it, there's no real conflict... between us. We even have a decent relationship. Don't you agree, Lucius?"
Forcing a smile that looked worse than crying, he tried to flatter, "Mr. Morningstar, you've misunderstood. We're not---"
"Not what?" Lucifer cut him off, before he started his usual greetings nonsense, "I don't care what you were thinking. The facts are right here. This was my event, you wrecked it, and you even fired the 'Dark Mark.' What was that supposed to mean? Missing your Master?"
Lucius shuddered and hurried to explain. "We've been wronged. Truly wronged! That Dark Mark had nothing to do with us! It activated on its own, completely by itself!"
The others nodded frantically in agreement.
'Of course it wasn't you.' Lucifer thought coldly. These people were the ones who least wanted Voldemort to return, the truly loyal were either rotting in Azkaban or already dead. Fence-sitters like Lucius were the only ones still jumping around freely.
But right now, he was passing the blame, was looking for an excuse. The truth didn't matter, "If it wasn't you," he said lightly, "then was it me?"
Lucifer leaned forward slightly, and an overwhelming pressure exploded outward. Lucius and the others nearly suffocated on the spot.
"You smash my venue and throw up your boss's mark. That's not just disrespecting me. That's slapping me in the face. Look at me! My cheeks are swollen because of you!"
"Now, I'll give you two choices."
"Either kneel and live."
"Or kneel and die."
Lucius, Selwyn, and the others were completely stunned. Wait... hold on.
Why were both options kneeling? And who in their right mind would kneel before dying at your hands? That's just arrogant. Somehow... he had a weird thought, 'my next descendant will be named Lucifer Malfoy'
xxxxx
Northern Europe---
Over the course of a single night, several peaks of the Scandinavian mountain range simply vanished.
Grindelwald and Dumbledore, two exhausted old men, dragged their battered bodies back to Durmstrang.
Despite that, both of them were in excellent spirits, Dumbledore could not remember the last time he had fought with such abandon.
Ever since Grindelwald's defeat, he had kept himself on a tight leash. Their previous two clashes had both ended with restraint on both sides, nothing more than probing exchanges. Nothing like this night, where neither of them held anything back and both pushed themselves to the limit.
Cradling a mug of steaming honeyed water, Dumbledore's gaze drifted unconsciously to the ancient-looking wand resting on the table. There was a clear note of curiosity in his eyes.
"Want it?" Grindelwald's lips curved faintly as he picked up the wand and toyed with it, his tone teasing.
"If you really want it, it's simple," he continued lightly. "Just trade it for the 'Elder Wand.' Such an evil wand doesn't suit your temperament anyway. You might as well give it back to me, and everyone's happy."
Dumbledore immediately pulled his gaze away and took a slow sip of water. "If you want 'the Elder Wand' that badly, then defeat me. Take it back fair and square."
"Tch."
Grindelwald snorted dismissively. If he could actually take it back, would he still be trying to sweet-talk like this? Last night's battle had ended close to a draw, though Dumbledore held a slight edge. At best, the odds were six to four in his favor.
After fusing with phoenix blood, Dumbledore's strength could only be described as skyrocketing.
Over a century of accumulated magic and knowledge, combined with the physical condition and focus of a man in his 'forties or fifties', topped off with the Elder Wand, meant that the current Dumbledore was far more formidable than he had been when the two of them dueled four or five years ago.
As for the wand in Grindelwald's hand, it was Lucifer's creation. That was not to say the boy's wandmaking skill had reached some absurd level, but rather that he had infused it with the power of 'Cursed Energy.'
Grindelwald's wand carried an aura of its power, making 'the Elder Wand' unnecessary. But after last night's battle, that power had likely been nearly exhausted. It would need to be recharged again.
Dumbledore had no idea about any of this. He simply assumed Gellert had found a powerful wand, and he was quietly astonished at how much the wizard's strength had grown.
He had believed he could suppress his old rival with ease by now, yet they were still evenly matched. The only explanation he could 'find' was the Basilisk blood and that new wand.
To be honest, even the idea of arresting Grindelwald no longer held much appeal for him. These days, the two of them were coexisting peacefully enough, and the unrest in the Wizarding world did not have much to do with him personally.
Spar from time to time, steal a few desserts, and keep growing stronger together. Then, when Voldemort returned from the dead, they could give him one hell of a surprise.
That did not sound so bad, did it?
Feeling relaxed, Dumbledore habitually pulled out his WhatsApp to check his unread messages, a mere glance was enough to wipe the smile off his face.
Across from him, Grindelwald also made a show of checking his own. On the way back, he had already taken a detour through the pocket space and gotten the news from Makima.
That brat was ruthless. Using a grand event he himself had organized as bait, stepping on the lives of over a thousand wizards to announce his status to the entire world.
From this moment on, no one would look at Lucifer as merely a talented young wizard anymore. He would be seen as an existence, standing shoulder to shoulder with Grindelwald and Dumbledore themselves.
Back in the day, Grindelwald's infamous reputation had been built blow by blow, fight by fight. Lucifer, on the other hand, had been in a hurry. He had done it all in a single night. And sitting opposite him, Dumbledore's hands were trembling slightly.
If even Grindelwald, one of their own, was stunned by Lucifer's sheer scale of action, then Dumbledore's reaction was hardly surprising.
The old man removed his glasses and wiped them carefully three times before putting them back on and reading the message again. Only then did his vision darken.
The good news was that he hadn't misread it. His eyesight was still working just fine. The bad news was that it was real, more than a thousand people were dead.
Why? Hadn't they already agreed? The dirty work was supposed to be his burden to bear, while the boy was meant to grow safely, untouched by that darkness. So why was there killing again, and on such a scale?
At that moment, Dumbledore deeply regretted agreeing to 'International Confederation of Wizards'' request. If he had stayed at the tournament grounds instead of coming after Grindelwald, none of this would have happened, at the very least, the death toll wouldn't have been so high.
Damn it.
This was all Gellert's fault.
Unable to hold back, Dumbledore lifted his head and shot a sharp, accusing look at the man opposite him.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Feeling the anger directed at him, Grindelwald was completely baffled. "What does this have to do with me? My people went there out of goodwill to help maintain order," he snapped, growing angrier by the second. "You don't thank me, and now you dare glare at me? Albus, what the hell is wrong with you?"
The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became. He raised his wand, clearly ready for another round.
"No. I just have a headache. I'm sorry, Gellert. I lost control of my emotions."
Dumbledore hurriedly found an excuse and backed down. Britain was already in complete chaos, if he provoked Grindelwald now, he might as well start digging his own grave.
Even if he stayed here, Lucifer would run wild back home with no one to keep him in check. What a nightmare.
It was rare to see Dumbledore soften like that. Grindelwald's irritation faded. He clicked his tongue and said, "That boy really is something. Strikes like thunder. If he'd been there in our era, things would've been 'far' more interesting." He shot the beardy man a sidelong look.
"Albus, you can't handle a talent like that. Send him to me."
Dumbledore couldn't be bothered to entertain the provocation. He had been about to message Lucifer himself, to have a brief talk and tell him to stay calm from here on out.
Instead, his message popped up first.
『Lucifer Morningstar』: Headmaster, have you ever considered retiring early?
"..." Dumbledore read the text again.
What did that mean? The boy hadn't even graduated yet and he was already staging a coup to 'force' him out and take the headmaster's chair?
Or had the killing gone too far? Had it started to damage his soul? The thought made his chest tighten, couldn't sit still any longer. He stood at once, ready to return to Britain.
Then he saw Grindelwald rising as well and paused.
"Why are you getting up?"
"To work, obviously," he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Didn't you get the message? Morningstar asked my people to head to Spain and maintain order. I've got a lot of mouths to 'feed.' Managing that many subordinates is stressful."
He gave Dumbledore's shoulder a firm pat and stepped into the Floo, vanishing in a burst of green flame.
Back in Britain, Lucifer frowned slightly when no reply came. Was the old man still asleep? Whatever, the Death Eaters had already folded.
Before last night, some of them might have tried to act tough, convincing themselves that he was bluffing. Now? No one doubted that when he said he would kill, he meant it.
Not a single backbone among them. They dropped to their knees faster than anyone.
Lucifer dealt with them only to stabilize his home base. He had no real interest in what they could offer. They had no real ability to speak of, and as for money, fuck that. The only thing they had left was old connections and their status as local power brokers. That was enough to help his will move more smoothly across this land.
He didn't even assign them tasks, simply told to behave themselves for a while and dismissed them.
Not long after Malfoy and the others left, Fudge came calling. On one hand, he was hiding from the bombardment of outrage from 'foreign' Ministries, dumping all responsibility onto Crouch to handle.
On the other, he was here to cling to a thicker thigh.
Lucifer had publicly declared that the Arkham Asylum Guild would take full responsibility for the incident, but public anger was still aimed squarely at the 'Ministry of Magic.' If Fudge didn't want to be torn apart by public opinion, he needed the boy's help.
Of course, Fudge knew better than to come empty-handed. He brought two gifts. The first was a 'First Class Order of Merlin.' Lucifer already had one, but he didn't mind collecting more as trophies. The second was an invitation to join the Wizengamot.
The Wizengamot was the highest wizarding court in Britain, and it also functioned as a kind of parliament. Its members were essentially legislators. Dumbledore was the Chief Warlock, the presiding head.
Lucifer had no interest in being just another member of parliament, Amelia Bones was itching to take up the mantle of 'House of Ambrosius.' And, if he was going to sit in that chamber, he would sit at the top.
Becoming Chief Warlock would make it far easier to amend the 'Statute of Secrecy' later, not that he had immediate plans, but he might. And he hadn't forgotten the pact he'd made with the old man.
The problem was, the current Chief Warlock was Dumbledore.
Hence that earlier message.
"Minister Fudge, I'll think about it," Lucifer said, pushing the invitation back across the table, he also knew the pompous man in front still hadn't believed he was 'Merlin's Descendant,' "Don't worry. Since I've said the Guild will handle this incident, it won't affect your position."
The blunt reassurance made Fudge lower his head awkwardly, but he visibly relaxed.
"However..." His tone shifted.
Fudge practically stiffened.
"I'll need some assistance from the Ministry. The Guild doesn't have unlimited manpower."
"No problem," he replied immediately, grasping at the given straw, "Once this group leaves England, every employee will be at your disposal."
"No, keep your employees. What I want are the Dementors."
"The... 'Dementors?"
"We need somewhere to hold prisoners, don't we?"
"Why not just lock them up in Azkaban? Are you planning to build a new prison? That would be far too much trouble."
Lucifer idly flexed his fingers, and the casual gesture somehow made Fudge feel an immense pressure, "The Guild's prison can't be mixed up with the Ministry's," he said calmly. "In the 'future,' all kinds of people will be held there. Minister, you don't object, do you?"
Cold sweat broke out across Fudge's forehead. "N-No, of course not. I have no objections."
Only then did Lucifer rise, satisfied, he wanted the Dementors for more than just prison guards. There would be many more events held at this stadium in the future. It wouldn't do to have chaos erupt every time.
Dementors were perfect.
When visitors poured out of the venue, high on excitement with nowhere to vent it, the Dementors could enjoy a 'feast' and enforce a little compulsory calm.
"Let's see who still felt like causing trouble after that...."
xxxxx
Ireland reclaimed the 'Quidditch World Cup' after a hundred and thirty-six years.
That should have been the biggest headline in the Wizarding world. Instead, it was shoved into a tiny corner of the papers. What dominated the 'front' pages were things like:
{The Most Horrifying Riot in History!
Tragedy After the Finals!}
{Over a Thousand Dead. The Darkest Day the Wizarding World Has Ever Known!}
{Thirteen Years Later, the Dark Mark Returns. Fifty Years On, the Name Grindelwald Still Haunts Us. But Both Were Defeated by a Single Organization!}
{Unbelievable! A New Sun Rises Over England!}
{The Dutch Ministry of Magic Requests International Aid: The Acolytes Are Coming.}.
Headline after headline blurred together, accompanied by graphic photos from the scene. The wizarding world was in uproar, no one had expected a grand celebration to end as a massacre. To be fair, every World Cup had casualties. When you gathered enough people, trouble was inevitable. Past tournaments had drawn fifty or sixty thousand, sometimes seventy or eighty thousand spectators.
But even if you added up the deaths from hundreds of previous Cups, they probably would not match this one.
The most chilling images were the photos of hundreds of charred bodies. Turn the page, and there was Lucifer's handsome face, smiling brightly.
Anyone who 'finished' the article found that smile deeply unsettling.
From that day on, the "twin thrones" occupied by Grindelwald and Dumbledore had room for a third name, Lucifer Morningstar.
Not even Voldemort qualified. Many people still had no clear idea of his true strength, and influence across world did not come close to those three.
xxxxxx
Voldemort, still hiding out in southern Albania, nearly burst a blood vessel when he saw the papers.
Back then, he must have been completely out of his mind to lock himself into a death struggle with Dumbledore in Britain. That choice had left him lagging 'far' behind Grindelwald in both momentum and
historical standing.
Now even Morningstar had surpassed him.
Cursing as he studied, desperately absorbing the experiences of both his predecessors and his successors.
No matter what, he had to raise his image and stature first. He could not stay confined to Britain forever, the level was too low.
xxxxxx
Back in Britain, thanks to Fudge behaving himself and Lucifer mercifully letting him off the hook, public opinion toward the Minister remained relatively friendly.
The 'Daily Prophet' pulled a neat little trick and swapped the framing of the story. Yes, people died here. But didn't that just prove that foreign wizards had poor standards?
Look at the troublemakers. Koreans, Chinese, plenty from the 'United States,' and the largest group were Russians. British wizards, on the other hand, were pure and spotless, untouched by such 'filth.'
What? Someone cast the Dark Mark?
And who proved it was one of us? Don't spread rumors without evidence, that move neatly redirected the anger. The Ministry followed up with a flood of investigation reports, enough to fill an entire issue of the paper. Over 'fifty' thousand words. It was enough to make anyone's head spin.
The public did not need the truth, it would only made things complicated. Clarifications were not meant to reveal reality anyway, just to scrub someone clean.
On top of that, most of the media attention focused on Lucifer, sparing no effort to polish his image.
Stories about Morningstar saving foreign wizards in danger, stopping the Acolytes, getting kissed by a girl he saved.
Several "television stations" even tried to invite Lucifer onto their programs. He didn't have the time, hadn't even bothered to read their invitations, but was pleased with what the spread of the Lumine-Lens had accomplished.
After two days, everyone stranded at the tournament site finally left Britain and returned to their home countries.
Lady Greengrass 'dumped' Astoria and Daphne on Lucifer, scolded him for five straight minutes, then went home to catch up on sleep.
He could not afford to offend his 'twelve-months' pregnant wife, so he redirected his frustration toward easier targets. Like the Ministry officials who came to ransom people back. Did anyone really think the rioters were all unemployed nobodies or low-level common wizards?
Wrong, Completely wrong.
Savage violence was baked into human blood, everyone has a destructive impulse. The death toll had not even been 'fully' counted yet, let alone everyone's identities.
As for those who survived and were arrested, there were over fifteen hundred of them. Their backgrounds were a mess, among them were employees of various foreign Ministries of Magic, even officials.
Take the head of the 'Russian Magical Sports Administration,' for example. He had been captured alive, but refused to behave. After waking up, he kept causing trouble and was instantly taken out by Shikimori with a single move.
"'If you want your people back, pay the fine."
On second floor of the Arkham Asylum Guild, inside the main conference room, Lucifer showed no courtesy whatsoever to the group of foreign diplomatic officials sitting across from him. He laid out his terms bluntly.
"'One housand Galleons' per person. But even after paying, they'll still be locked up for three months. Let it teach them a lesson. From now on, if it's an event hosted by Arkham Asylum, they'd better behave. How many lives do they think they have to waste?"
The officials exchanged glances, Morningstar was treating them like cattle waiting to be slaughtered.
One thousand Galleons was no small sum, for many families, it was half a year's income, even a full year. For the Weasleys, it would mean instant bankruptcy. Of course, the Ministry would not be paying. The bill would 'fall' squarely on the families behind those troublemakers.
Fifteen hundred people. That meant 1.5 million Galleons in ransom alone. A staggering sum, the real issue was that even after paying, they would still have to wait three months. Who could guarantee those people would still be alive at the end of it? And even if there was a promise, if anything went wrong, the 'families' would come knocking on the Ministry's door.
They were furious, but no one dared voice an objection.
Every time anger rose to their throats and words of protest nearly slipped out, the image of yesterday's mountain of corpses flashed before their eyes, reminding them how fragile life really was.
And so Lucifer's demands passed with shocking ease. Not a single person dared oppose him. That was the power of momentum. When the tide was set, even authority of a Ministry of Magic became insignificant.
But this was not the end, it was only the beginning.
The 'fines' were aimed at individuals. They were a statement, a warning to anyone who might consider testing the Guild in the future. But if he did not seize this opportunity to expand Arkham Asylum's influence, then would not yesterday's dead have died for nothing?
Especially Russia.
Lucifer had long had his eye on its rich mineral reserves and rare arctic herbs. If he could extend his reach there, it would not take long before his collection surpassed even his teacher, Nicolas Flamel. Forget a hundred Doll-Grangers. If he wanted, could build thousands.
An hour later, when representatives from various countries stepped out of the conference room, their faces were as dark as if they had just left a funeral.
The situation was stacked against them. They had no right to bargain, not even the courage to try. Whatever conditions the boy proposed, they could only nod and accept. Whether those terms would ultimately be honored depended on what their respective Ministers thought.
Still, most of them doubted there would be any surprises. Morningstar was not someone you could afford to cross. Unless...Unless Dumbledore stood on their side.
"Professor Dumbledore?" A Department head muttered absentmindedly as he looked up and saw the old wizard walking toward them.
Dumbledore smiled and gave them a polite nod, but did not greet anyone by name. Everyone knew him, that did not mean he knew all of them, "It seems your discussion with Lucifer was not particularly pleasant?" he asked gently.
The group forced bitter smiles and shook their heads without answering directly.
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, "Young people are sharp-edged. It's understandable. I believe Lucifer's intentions are to bring greater stability to the Wizarding world. As his elder, all I can do is avoid... clashing with that sharpness and lend a hand if he stumbles. It's for the 'greater good."
With that, he stepped into the conference room. The door closed behind him, and sound of two familiar voices greeting each other faded into silence.
The representatives exchanged glances. Their last hope had just vanished. Dumbledore did not think he had done anything wrong. And they had expected him to oppose his own student?
They sighed.
Two great wizards standing on the same side. What chance did anyone else have? Inside the conference room, Dumbledore's purpose was not so different from the others. He did not understand why Lucifer insisted on holding thousands of wizards in detention.
A prison hobby?
He did not hide his reasoning.
"Professor, I've reached an agreement with the Dementors. Fudge has also granted the Arkham Asylum Guild limited law enforcement authority and permission to build our own prison... Those people will be helping construct it. And in the meantime, they'll serve as food for the Dementors."
Then, calmly outlined his plans for deploying the Dementors at future events. Dumbledore sucked in a sharp breath, 'Using Dementors to magically cool down overexcited wizarding tourists... Who even came up with an idea like that?'
When it came to questionable humanity, Lucifer remained consistently impressive. Still, beneath the exasperation, Dumbledore felt a sliver of relief.
He had been worried his student might be drunk on blood, unwilling to release anyone. Or worse, that he would use the captives as leverage to blackmail 'foreign' Ministries into even harsher concessions.
Compared to that... this was almost reasonable. They chatted for a while longer. At the appointed time, Crouch arrived. The Lumine-Lenses along the walls flickered to life, and the Heads of the major magical schools appeared on the screens. Vinda Rosier stood in for Grindelwald as always.
Lucifer smiled politely at Madame Maxime, then let his gaze linger briefly on Agilbert Fontaine before nodding to Crouch who rose to his feet and gave a measured nod to each image around the room.
"Headmasters, thank you for attending. Today's meeting is not directly related to the Triwizard Tournament. However, what we discuss may well shape the future of the wizarding world."
As he spoke, he sent the prepared proposal to each of their WhatsApp.
{Implementation Guidelines on Deepening the Reform of Wizard Practical-Combat---- Rank Assessment and Professional Skill Evaluation Systems}
The moment the title appeared, a wave of dizziness washed over the assembled headmasters.
Most wizards were practically illiterate to begin with. This sort of classic, torturous British long sentence would confuse plenty of native English speakers, let alone a room full of foreigners.
Crouch felt the resentful looks stabbing into him, but his expression didn't change in the slightest. 'Why are you all staring at me? That blasted title was my boss's idea. What was I supposed to do about it?'
When Agilbert Fontaine kindly explained it, the Heads of places like Castelobruxo and Uagadou finally grasped what the title meant.
Wizard combat Rank assessment? What kind of nonsense was that... From the sound of it, were they planning to re-test and re-rank all wizards?
"Mr. Morningstar," Madame Maxime asked, turning her gaze toward the boy, "is this document aimed at students? Are you proposing to add practical combat tests to graduation exams?"
Crouch might have been the one presenting it, but everyone knew whose will truly stood behind the document.
"No. This assessment is for adult wizards," Lucifer said, tapping his finger lightly against the table. "Please don't jump to conclusions. Read the whole document first. We can discuss opinions afterward."
Even Dumbledore had no idea what the boy's true purpose for today's meeting was. He opened the file and began reading carefully. For a while, the meeting room was filled only with soft rustling of turning pages.
The document wasn't long, five or six pages at most, and it was mostly plans and outlines rather than detailed explanations. In less than 'fifteen' minutes, everyone had finished reading and understood Lucifer's goal.
To provide a clear, detailed ranking system for adult wizards' practical combat abilities, along with evaluation tests for specialized fields like potions, herbology, and alchemy.
"Is... is this really necessary?"
Headmaster Santos of Castelobruxo voiced what most of them were thinking. To them, this all felt completely redundant.
Yes, more people had been dying lately, and there was a Dark Lord running around causing trouble, but overall the situation was still stable. Peace was the general trend. Aside from Aurors and other combat focused professions, most people simply didn't need fighting skills.
That was exactly why so many Ministry employees couldn't even cast a proper 'Shield Charm' anymore. People got comfortable, and before long, they rotted.
"I don't think it's necessary either," Vinda Rosier said with a faint smile, agreeing to Santos's surprise, "Within the Acolytes, we already have a similar internal system for measuring power.... Lord Grindelwald's intention is to promote it at Durmstrang and in several Ministries of Magic that work with us."
Several headmasters bared their teeth at that. "Ministries that work with us," huh? You might as well just say your own territory.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.
On the surface, Vinda was opposing the proposal, but in reality she was lending support. Just look at the urgency creeping onto Madame Maxime's face and the others'.
"Everyone," Lucifer said with an easy smile, "I'm sure you've noticed it too. The overall quality of wizards is declining... I may be young, but I know quite a 'few' senior figures."
"For example, Mr. Scamander once told me that when he was young, Ministry employees were true elites. Silent casting was routine, wide-area spells came naturally, and even Apparition during combat wasn't considered difficult."
"And now?" He shrugged lightly, discord on the boy's face was palpable, "It's a mess. Take the people who died by my hand not long ago. They couldn't even 'Apparate' properly. Otherwise, at least a few dozen might have escaped."
Morningstar, was that really a good example to use?
Lucifer's words were grim, almost hellish, but they were undeniably true. Every Headmaster present had felt it. The students they taught were getting younger, not in actual age, but in mentality and capability. Graduates today would barely rank as fourth or fifth years back in their time.
Worse still, many people regressed after graduation. Aside from a handful of commonly used spells, most of what they'd learned was slowly handed back to the school.
That was also why magical schools had recently been seeking more exchanges, hoping competition would push students to improve.
"A clear ranking system would indeed help wizards understand where they stand," Madame Maxime said, nodding in agreement before voicing her concern, "But schools are, after all, places for training young witches and wizards... Shouldn't this be something you discuss with the 'Ministries of Magic' instead?"
Lucifer shook his head, but was impressed by how quickly she grasped the key topic, "Large-scale promotion will definitely require
cooperation with the Ministries later on. But for a small-scale trial, you're the right people to start with."
"The professors at each school are elites among elites. If they take the assessment first, it sets a powerful example. It's also a perfect opportunity to showcase your schools' depth and strength."
A faint smile curved his lips. "Of course, a professor's personal power doesn't necessarily reflect their teaching ability. I've had plenty of firsthand experience with that..."
Dumbledore's eyelid twitched. Who exactly was that supposed to be aimed at? In a small house on Spinner's End, Severus Snape suddenly sneezed while brewing a potion. A strand of mucus dropped straight into the cauldron. Thick smoke erupted at once, and he, 'furious,' kicked the cauldron over.
Back in the meeting, Lucifer continued smoothly, "A professor's strength can inspire pride in their students. If we're talking about competition, we can't just pile the pressure onto the students. Professors should carry some of it too. And besides... with a clear evaluation of ability, you can avoid being deceived by the wrong sort of people. For instance, Headmaster Dumbledore here hired not one but two 'frauds', Quirrell and Lockhart..."
"Cough, cough!" Under the strange looks from the other headmasters, Dumbledore cleared his throat rather forcefully, "Mr. Morningstar, there's no need to be quite so specific..."
The boy really had no loyalty at all. When it suited his purpose, he'd sell his Headmaster out without the slightest hesitation.
"Could you elaborate on the specific rank divisions?" Fontaine finally spoke up, breaking his silence and drawing everyone's focus back. "And what standards will be used?"
As the Headmaster of 'Ilvermorny,' Fontaine intrigued Lucifer more than anyone else present. If not for the current priorities, he would have loved to drag him out of that Lumine-Lens and use 'Legilimency' properly. For now, though, the plan mattered more.
He launched into a detailed explanation. Questions after another flew at him from the various headmasters, and he answered each calmly and thoroughly.
Two and a half hours later, however, there was still no final decision.
The idea itself was good, but the Headmasters had their own concerns. Poor student performance wasn't the end of the world. People tended to be forgiving with children. As long as a student showed even a hint of promise, there was always bone for their future.
Adults were judged far more harshly.
Put bluntly, this was like organizing another Inter-school tournament, except this time it was the professors competing instead of the students. If they performed poorly, it would absolutely affect enrollment.
There were British students studying at 'Durmstrang' and 'Beauxbatons.' North America had its share attending Castelobruxo. Nothing in the magical world was ever absolute.
But as always, the larger tide favored Lucifer. The Ministry officials didn't dare push back against him, and these Headmasters were hardly in a stronger position, he had half expected Fontaine to reveal some hidden agenda, yet he was the first to agree.
When the meeting ended, the others said they would consider the proposal carefully and give their answers within two weeks.
Lucifer didn't press them. If they refused, he could always pay them a visit afterward. When the other connections to Lumine-Lens were severed, Madame Maxime remained.
She extended her invitation once more, asking him to visit 'Beauxbatons Academy of Magic' as her guest.
She had invited him many times before, and he had always found excuses to decline. This time, he finally agreed.
Darcy and Annabelle were still staying at his home. Beauxbatons' term began on August 31st, with students returning on the 30th, only two days away. He could escort them back himself.
Delighted by his promise, Madame Maxime confirmed the time with him before closing the connection.
"Headmaster, I'm going to see Professor Snape," Lucifer said, turning to the old man at his left. "Care to join me?"
"Cornelius invited me for tea in his office. I'm already late." he gently declined.
"Alright then. See you at the start of term."
Lucifer waved casually and vanished on the spot. His vision blurred for an instant, and he reappeared at the entrance to 'Spinner's End.'
xxxxxxx
Cokeworth was an industrial town in the Midlands of England. Abandoned smokestacks loomed along the riverbank, and filthy water reeked so badly that you could smell it from far away.
With a swish, Lucifer's shadow formed his body, he appeared at the entrance to a narrow alley and instinctively wrinkled his nose.
"Living in a place like this, no wonder Snape hasn't washed his hair in decades. Might smell worse if he did."
Students weren't supposed to know professors' home addresses, but he had been sending Severus Snape Christmas gifts for years. He walked straight up to a townhouse and knocked on the door.
A little too hard.
'Crack!'
The already-rotting door exploded inward.
"Confringo!"
A cold voice rang out from the dark interior, and the spell's light flew even faster than the sound. Lucifer hadn't even finished stepping inside before the spell slammed into his chest.
Sparkles burst across the room. When the glare 'faded', the boy was already standing inside as if nothing had happened. He looked around casually, then fixed his gaze on the bat-like figure gripping a wand.
"Sorry about that, Professor. Didn't realize your door was so fragile. Oh? Hot pot for... 'dinner?"
Snape's wand hand trembled, his chest was heaving. Who the hell eats hot pot out of a cauldron? The half hearted apology was bad enough. The sarcasm nearly choked him.
Coming straight to his house to humiliate him. Even Voldemort hadn't been this despicable. But something didn't add up. Had he done anything recently to offend this little menace?
Snape couldn't figure it out, but Lucifer had already made himself at home, strolling through the living room and into the small backyard.
The yard wasn't large, maybe ten meters across, with a single orange tree planted in the middle. Nothing else stood out.
He barely glanced at it. Instead, looked next door. Just beyond the wall, the neighboring house was abandoned and falling apart, moss crawling over the walls, ivy spreading like a spiderweb across broken windows and red brick.
"What are you looking at?" Snape asked stiffly, irritation boiling over. What the hell did Morningstar come here for?
"Nothing..."
Lucifer didn't turn around, but leaned closer to the wall, curiosity plain in his eyes. "This is where Lily Potter lived, right? You taught her magic here? Then you both went to Hogwarts together? Wait, that doesn't make sense. Her sister's still alive, isn't she? How did the 'family' home end up like this?"
"Avada---
He vanished like a ghost.
Snape's arm dropped hard as it was pinned in place, Lucifer's voice sounded right beside him, he had no intention of letting the man know he could survive Killing Curse, "Professor, that's crossing a line. Since when do teachers use 'Unforgivable Curses' on students?"
"And since when do students kick down a professor's door like a bandit and try to piss him to death?"
The muscles in Snape's face twitched violently. For the first time in years, he felt real regret, should have beaten this brat senseless back when he still could.
Now it was too late. One-on-one, he didn't even get the chance to cast a spell. He had never seen that 'kind' of black mist travel, even faster compared to Apparation in his life.
"Professor, calm down," Lucifer said patiently, as if lecturing a child. "You're the greatest double agent in the wizarding world. Acting on emotion won't do. I was just testing your tolerance, and you already snapped... How are you supposed to face Voldemort like that?"
"I don't even know where the hell Voldemort is!" Snape snarled his nose in disgust, "Don't give me excuses. This is about those points I took from you in the first year, isn't it? Don't think I don't know."
Lucifer's heart skipped. Damn it. He'd waited this long to come stirring trouble, and Snape still saw right through him. Typical, His Head of House was just as petty as he was.
"Professor, let bygones be bygones."
His expression remained unreadable, waving his hand, and the world shifted. In next instant, they were standing in dim living room again.
Lucifer snapped his fingers, and every oil lamp flared to life, warmth and light pushing back the lingering chill.
He picked out the cleanest, most comfortable armchair, pulled over a blanket, and draped it across his legs. Only then did he settle in and speak again.
"Looks like Dumbledore didn't tell you much. You've heard about what happened at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Egypt, right?"
Snape's eyes sharpened. He followed instantly. "That was Voldemort?"
"Yes. He was already on the verge of resurrection back then. Unfortunately for him, he ran into me."
Lucifer pressed his wand to his temple and drew out thin strands of silvery mist. With a soft breath, the mist solidified into vivid images, replaying Voldemort's death in full
detail for Snape to see.
"After that... he's still not dead?" Snape whispered, shock and bitterness burning in his eyes.
He laughed quietly. "Now you understand why Dumbledore fears him so much. It's not power, it's the things he's done to stay alive. Things no sane person... could imagine. Even I have to admire that kind of persistence."
"And what does this have to do with you coming here?" He asked, already regaining his composure. His face went blank again. "You want me to find him? Go back to being a spy? He won't trust me now."
"Using a potions master as a spy is a waste," Lucifer said with a sigh. "If you wanted, you could ignore all this mess. Just wait, he'll fall into my hands eventually. But given the hatred between you," he added calmly, "you won't be able to do that. So I have a proposal."
Folding his fingers atop the blanket, Snape stared straight into the boy's deep, unreadable eyes. "What proposal?"
"Focus on what you're actually best at," he said softly. "Professor, your strength hasn't really improved in a long time, has it?"
Snape's expression shifted. Once again, the boy had stabbed him right in the sore spot. It wasn't that he hadn't improved at all. His magic had grown naturally over the years, and he had never neglected his training.
But those gains were insignificant in the 'face' of the vast gap between him and the real monsters. He knew more spells now, and his stronger magic made them hit harder, yet there had been no real breakthrough. In the end, he was still trapped at the same level.
The biggest obstacle was his own heart. He was the one who had doomed Lily, passed on the prophecy. Voldemort had been the executioner, but the blade was 'his.'
Snape lived with that torment every moment of every day, with no clear hope of revenge in sight. How could he ever truly calm himself, focus on magic, and dig deeper into his own potential?
Lucifer's appearance had given him a brief sense of urgency, a bit of pressure. But it didn't last long. After their joint ambush on Peter Pettigrew, Snape understood something very clearly.
No matter how hard he worked, he would never catch up to that monstrous student.
"When you backed me back then," he said, watching Snape's silence, "wasn't it because you wanted to use my hand to get rid of... Voldemort? Since that's the case, you might as well be more focused about it. Put all your energy into what you're best at. Help me research potions properly. Leave Voldemort to me." Lucifer's voice was serenely calm, almost casual. "I guarantee that before I kill him, I'll hand over to you for a while. Long enough to really enjoy it. Do whatever you like to him."
Snape's still heart began to pound violently. If anyone else had said this, he would have dismissed it as empty bravado. Even calling it a lie would have been generous.
But coming from Lucifer, it wasn't boasting. It was a promise.
Truth be told, even without a deal, they were destined to clash sooner or later. What truly tempted him was that last line.
Handing Voldemort over to him. It was an offer he simply couldn't refuse.
"Morningstar... are you serious?" Forcing himself to suppress the urge to agree on the spot, Snape asked cautiously. "Even Dumbledore wouldn't dare make a promise like that. Capturing someone alive and killing them are two very different things..."
Lucifer waved his hand dismissively, "I'm still a 'fourth-year' student. That alone is enough to see my future."
Snape nodded. Yes, that alone really was enough, "So all you need is for me to brew potions for you?"
"More or less. I need more potions, and stronger ones. I already have some ideas, but I don't have the time to develop them." Sheets of parchment drifted out of Lucifer's pocket and settled onto the coffee table.
Snape glanced through a few at random, his heart skipping a beat. None of the formulas were remotely respectable. They were powerful, dangerous, and absolutely the kind of thing that would be locked away in the Restricted Section.
This brat had the talent to be a true 'all-rounder', but not during this phase of rapid growth.
Compared to his 'frequent' use of alchemy, his potion skills had stagnated for a bit, and would have to catch up in Hell. What he handed to Snape were half formed inspirations that would take enormous effort to brew.
Outsourcing them to Snape was the only realistic option.
"Oh, right. One more small thing," Lucifer added, remembering something, told Snape about the morning's meeting while the man was still scribbling herb reaction formulas, "I want you to take part in the rank assessment, Professor. I think you'd get a very respectable evaluation."
"No." Snape replied without even looking up, irritation heavy in his voice.
"Come on. I'll give you a few bottles of 'Strengthening Draught."
He froze, then slowly set the parchment down and looked up, his face suddenly solemn, "Wizards really do need a system like that. I think participating would be good. It would be unfortunate if professors from other schools... started thinking I was on the same level as them."
Lucifer gave him a thumbs-up, speechless at how fast Snape could change his tune.
With both objectives accomplished, he didn't linger. Before leaving, even fixed Snape's front door.
Unfortunately, the ill-mannered Head of House offered no thanks at all. Instead, he quietly resolved to deduct a few more points next term.
The next day, Lucifer arrived openly on the island housing Azkaban, Ministry Travel Permit in hand.
The moment 'first' Dementor spotted him, the entire island erupted into chaos. For the being who had slaughtered hundreds of their kind, the Dementors' memory was crystal clear. The panic wasn't about revenge.
It was about running for their lives.
Lucifer stared at the scattering black shapes, utterly speechless. He hadn't expected Dementors to be this cowardly. He quickly cast a 'Patronus.' Thick white mist poured from his palm, not forming a giant dragon, but spreading outward into a massive circle of the Snake that covered most of the island.
It was an alternative application of the 'Patronus Charm'. After a few seconds, only a handful of Dementors at the very edge managed to escape being trapped. The rest let out wails that teetered on shrieks.
"'Quiet."
The dome began to shrink, forcing hundreds of Dementors to cluster near Lucifer, "Our previous grudge is settled. I'm not here for your lives today, but to offer you a job. Food and lodging included. Better treatment than Azkaban, you've been gnawing on the prisoners here for so long anyway... How much happiness do you think is left in them?"
"Follow me and..."
Just like Snape, the Dementors were tempted by the future he painted.
Two Dementors, noticeably larger than the rest and clearly leaders, drifted closer. A pulse of alien intent brushed against Lucifer's mind, and he understood at once. All they cared about was one thing: "'Food and lodging guaranteed?"
The Dementor recruitment drive went astonishingly well. To compete for just two hundred spots, the usually unified Dementors nearly came to blows.
But really, it couldn't be helped. Food was everything. One or two thousand fresh prisoners were nothing like the dried-up leftovers at Azkaban. Even if it only lasted three months, it was more than enough for them to 'fatten' up nicely before winter. And then Lucifer mentioned the idea of having them work as guards afterward.
That was when something like genuine longing appeared among them. Especially the Dementors who had once gone to Hogwarts and somehow survived.
They had seen the roaring crowds at the Quidditch pitch, that tidal wave of excitement. Once you'd tasted that, you never forgot it.
In just a few sentences, he went from being the Devil who slaughtered their kind to their savior. One by one, they did their best to restrain instincts and curry 'favor' with the boy in front of them.
After selecting two hundred Dementors, Lucifer hastily opened his pocket world, stuffed them all inside, and transported them to a swamp on the outskirts of Dorset.
The location wasn't far from the 'Quidditch World Cup' stadium, only a few hundred miles away. Arkham Asylum planned to build a prison there. It wouldn't be just a facility for Britain alone, but a holding ground for every prisoner the Guild laid its hands on. Anyone they captured would be brought here.
To speed up the construction of this international prison, two hundred Dementors were stationed on site to serve as wardens and overseers, while the prisoners themselves were driven into forced labor.
With magic working in tandem with alchemical constructs, three months proved more than enough to finish the sprawling complex, and even establish a guild branch alongside it.
Once everything was settled, Lucifer finally went home and told Darcy that he'd be accompanying her back to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
That night, they made the most of London, wandering cobblestone streets, browsing bustling shops, and marveling at the city's sights together.
The glow of lanterns reflected in the Thames, street performers drew crowd, and the chatter of Muggles filled the air.
Seeing it all, Lucifer couldn't help but reflect on the Wizarding world's shortcomings. The comforts and entertainment that Muggles took for granted seemed so simple, yet so lacking in the magical world.
Luxury, leisure, and innovation, all had room to grow.
xxxxxx
The next morning, Abraxan winged horses descended from the sky, pulling an ornate carriage, Darcy led Lucifer aboard with practiced ease.
Since Beauxbatons students came from several countries, everyone traveled to school by carriage. It was slower, sure, but it added a certain romance.
xxxxxxx
Southern France,
The Pyrenees Mountains,
The world-famous Beauxbatons lay hidden within a secluded valley. Even though it was already remote and safe, it was still protected by powerful concealment magic.
If Hogwarts was a blend of Gothic and Romanesque fortress architecture, then Beauxbatons was a classic French palace. Countless spires and domes rose into the sky, elegant and lavish. In front of the palace stood a 'magnificent fountain.'
Vast magical gardens surrounded the grounds, fragrant and refreshing. And occasionally, you could spot tiny fairies darting through the flowers, hard at work.
That fountain had been a gift from Nicolas Flamel to his alma mater. The water was drinkable straight from the source, naturally sweet, and imbued with a constant, temperature enchantment that covered the entire campus. It kept school comfortable year round and had become Beauxbatons' most iconic landmark.
Setting everything else aside, Beauxbatons was unquestionably the most pleasant magical school to live in. No wonder Darcy had struggled to adapt after transferring to Hogwarts. She complained about it every single day. And honestly, Lucifer was starting to see her point.
Hogwarts really did have issues, especially that Dungeon where Slytherin's lived in, Daphne had lots of complaints about it, when her first time mystery experience 'faded.'
Without saying a word, Lucifer used his WhatsApp to contact Hermione, doing a video call, and simply let his girlfriend watch. She was far too sharp not to understand what he was implying. For once, she completely lost her composure, "It's just a magic fountain and a temperature charm! You think that's difficult for Professor McGonagall?"
"Professors there could redesign Hogwarts to be a thousand, ten thousand times better than Beauxbatons if wanted to. I think they just don't bother. Do you get it? Students come to school to study, not to be pampered. What do they need such a... cushy environment for? This isn't a 'holiday resort!"
Hermione went on and on, listing reasons and justifications. No matter what she said, Lucifer's replies were all the same. Yeah, yeah, totally right. Whatever makes you happy.
That only made her snap harder, she thought he was seriously considering transferring to Beauxbatons. Lucifer had figured it out by now, his girlfriend's competitive streak was no weaker than RavenClaw, Salazar Slytherin or Godric Gryffindor.
You could say she wasn't much of a fighter. She'd admit that herself, but you absolutely could not say she read less, thought slower, or had bad taste.
Say that, and she would explode.
Lucifer wasn't doing this as her best friend or couple's relationship to ljoke around, but purely to mess with her.
In the end, after listening to his "enthusiastically" praise Beauxbatons' gardens to Madame Maxime and Darcy, Hermione finally cut the connection and stormed off to draw good points of Hogwarts. If she didn't make him reconsider, she wasn't texting back. After a brief tour of the main areas, Madame Maxime brought Lucifer and Darcy back into the Palace of Beauxbatons.
All afternoon, winged horses descended into the plaza before the fountain, one carriage after another, as students steadily arrived.
Both boys and girls wore flowing blue silk robes that shimmered in the light. And whenever students encountered a professor, they stopped at once to offer a respectful greeting, only resuming their walk after the professor had passed.
"Doesn't all this get tiring?" He asked
from the window, pulling his gaze away and turning to Valentine.
"What's tiring about it?" She shook her head, her waterfall of silvery blonde hair swaying softly, "Madame Maxime values etiquette above all else. No student would dare question her rules... And it's for their own good, everyone prefers people with manners."
It made him chuckle, "Then how come I don't see you being quite that respectful with Madame Maxime?"
Darcy wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek playfully against his back. "That's because of you. Before I met you, she admired me, sure, but rules were rules. After meeting you, though, she stopped treating me like an ordinary student..."
"Talented people get special treatment wherever they go," Lucifer said lightly. "And background counts as a kind of talent too, doesn't it?" He turned around until their noses almost touched. "So it's all thanks to me. How are you planning to reward?"
She didn't answer, and simply closed her eyes. They fooled around for a while, until past 'five', when the sky began to darken. Miss Valentine led her boyfriend to the Great hall.
Beauxbatons had even more students than Hogwarts, over two thousand in total. A hall built on Hogwarts' scale simply couldn't hold everyone. Instead, meals were held in a grand, three-story banquet hall open through the center. There were no long tables, only round ones seating ten students each.
Younger students and pre-school-age witches and wizards sat on the first floor, older students on the second, while the third floor was reserved exclusively for professors.
During Christmas, a massive tree would be set up in the open central space, magical snow drifting down from the ceiling. Reflected through crystals of every color, the whole hall would glow with breathtaking beauty.
"Tsk, the French really knew what they were doing, especially when it came to luxury and indulgence..."
Darcy couldn't help feeling a little regret that he hadn't come during the holidays. She was sure he would've loved it even more then.
Madame Maxime was introducing Lucifer to the entire school.
"It is my great honor to invite Mr. Lucifer Morningstar to Beauxbatons as our distinguished guest..."
Most of the people present already knew him, but formalities were expected. Member of the 'Hogwarts Board of Governors.' Youngest recipient of the 'First Class Order of Merlin' in history, Inventor of the
-----Wizarding Communication, 'WhatsApp', Master alchemist.
Founder of the Arkham Asylum Guild.
Member of Beauxbatons Board of Governors, As she went down the list, even Maxime herself was a little stunned, Lucifer was only in his fourth year and his string of titles was already this long. By the time he graduated, what would it look like?
The students of Beauxbatons gazed at the boy standing on the third floor balcony, waving down at them, their eyes 'filled' with awe. Quite a few of them had personally witnessed, alongside Madame Maxime, his one-against-a-hundred battle.
News spread like wildfire among students. They knew better than most just how terrifyingly powerful Lucifer was.