Professor Snape snarled his nose even more after taking a deep breath, "Then if I may speak about something else... the 'fourof them' may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time..." he said, his sneer curling around his face, doubting the very words he just spoke, "but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the Upstairs Corridor at all? Why were they not at the 'Halloween Feast?"
All but Lucifer launched into an explanation about Death Day party, "---there were hundreds of Ghosts, who'll tell you we were there-"
It was now Hermione's turn to defend, she slipped her hand into Lucifer's in an attempt to gain some courage. Or maybe, slightly because she wanted to, because his soft skin against hers felt great and she 'craved more.'
Ever since the 'Talk' with Professor McGonagall, Hermione's having even more naughty dreams about Lucifer, and her in a new light, and that light just kept getting bigger and brighter.
She pulled him back into her and held his hand tightly. Hermione hadn't even realised her hand was in his, it just felt natural.
"But why not join the feast afterwards?" His black eyes glittering in the candlelight, "Why go up to that corridor?"
"Because -because-" Harry seemed to be having trouble finding an excuse, What could he say? That he had followed a disembodied voice whispering about killing? That he alone could hear it? That excuse would see him 'expelled as a lunatic', if not worse.
"We were really tired and just wanted to go to bed!"
"Without any supper?" Snape asked, a triumphant flicker of a smile on his face, "I didn't think Ghosts provided food for the 'living' at their parties."
"We weren't hungry," Ron said loudly as his stomach growled just as loud.
Harry wanted to slam his head against the wall. 'Every single time', Snape managed to twist the knife, hounding him toward disaster.
The watching adults exchanged dark, suspicious looks. Few believed Harry capable of wielding such dark magic, but their evasive answers reeked of guilt. They were 'hiding something.'
And, it did cause Snape's nasty smile to widen sickeningly, "I suggest, Headmaster, that they aren't being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if Potter was deprived of certain... privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off of the 'Gryffindor Quidditch Team' until he is ready to be honest."
"And how would that benefit you, Severus?" McGonagall asked him, "Potter is not the only Seeker Gryffindor has now. Taking him away would only put Morningstar in action. So really, what would that prove? Besides, no evidence states Potter has done 'anything wrong at all."
Dumbledore eyed Harry, like he was looking right into his soul, "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."
Snape snarled angrily, looking furious.
Filch looked equally so, "My Cat has been petrified!" He shrieked, "I want to see some 'punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore said, having extreme patience with Filch, "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure a sizable amount of Mandrakes, and once they have fully matured, she will be able to make a Potion for Mrs. Norris that will revive her."
"I'll make it," Lockhart said, reminding everyone of his presence, "I must've done it a hundred times. I can whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-"
"Excuse me," Snape said icily, "I do believe that I am the 'Potions Master' at this school!"
There was an awkward pause. Dumbledore looked at the four of them, "You may go."
They all hurried out of there without breaking into a run. Hermione still holding onto Lucifer's hand like her life depended on it.
When they were up the floor from Lockhart's office, Harry ushered them all into an empty classroom, "D'you think I should've told them about that voice I heard?"
"No," Ron said without hesitation, "hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding World."
Indeed, that's why Lucifer didn't think it would be best if he mentioned about hearing voices, like Harry did.
He'd seen first hand, the treatment this boy received, and how ugly it could get here. Harry suddenly asked, "You do believe me, don't you?"
Lucifer tried his best to keep a straight face after he muttered that.
"Of course I do," Ron said, almost too quickly, "but you gotta admit, it is weird..."
"I know it's weird, the whole thing's weird!" Harry was a little frustrated, that no one was going to believe him again, "That writing on the wall about? 'Chamber Has Been Opened.' What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know. it rings a sort of bell..." Ron said slowly, "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..."
"And I remember Neville saying something about this last year at the start of term banquet after everyone had been sorted, but what's a Squib exactly? I never figured out what it meant," Harry told them.
"A squib is a person born into a Wizarding family that has no magical properties at all," Lucifer explained letting go of Hermione's hand, while Ron stifled a snicker, "If Filch is a Squib, then it explains why he detests students, he's bitter about us being able to use magic."
"I actually feel a little bad for him, now..." Hermione said, while looking down at where their intertwined hands used to be and frowned.
It didn't feel natural anymore. Just cold. A clock suddenly chimed somewhere, "Midnight," Harry said, "we'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else..."
"He's right, you know?" a random person in a portrait said.
"Oh, shut up!" Ron moaned to the painting.
xxxxxx
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said next morning at the Great Hall, turning back, "the Restorative Draught is his to oversee, Professor Sprout is growing Mandrakes' for us. I expect to see our patient Mrs. Norris restored as soon as possible."
"Headmaster, it will take months," Snape growled.
"Not sooner?" Dumbledore pressed gently, "Even with the 'Mooncalf manure', Mr. Morningstar so kindly advised."
Arms folded, Pomona's lip too curled, "Magic is not a toy, Headmaster. Even Severus's brewing is precise. Do not ask me to insult our studies with time-warping charms."
Dumbledore sighed, conceding. Then he raised his voice so the students could hear. "Children, fear not. Mrs. Norris will recover soon. When she awaken, the truth will emerge. Until then, you must all return to your dormitories timely at night."
Grumbling, whispering, the students dispersed for their respective classes. Even Harry and Ron slunk away, guided by Dumbledore's firm look-but the rest of the school kept their distance, parting around them like a plague.
xxxxxxx
The walk to Snape's office was silent, heavy with unspoken tension. Only once the door shut did Snape finally speak, "Morningstar... who do you think did this?"
Lucifer cocked a brow, answering with a question of his own. "Professor... it sounds like you already have someone in mind."
A cruel smirk twisted Snape's lips as he leaned back in his chair.
"In this castle, only one man lacks a past. And in my years at Hogwarts, whenever there is trouble... the 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' professor is always at the center of it."
He sneered, eyes gleaming. "If not Gilderoy Lockhart--'who else?"
Lucifer's lips curved ever so faintly.
He was certain that if Gilderoy were here to hear Snape's accusations, the poor man would have vomited blood from the injustice. Just because he was the 'Defence Against the Dark Arts professor', did that automatically mean he had to shoulder the blame?
Well... from one angle, Snape's suspicion wasn't entirely unfounded.
According to Malfoy, he did come to Hogwarts with 'ulterior motives'--and in terms of severity, his intentions might prove even more dangerous than the Chamber of Secrets itself.
Dulling entire school's mind with bigotry and foolish textbooks.
If one compared influence, Grindelwald was a world-class threat, whereas Voldemort had never extended his reach beyond the 'British Isles'. But tonight's events probably had nothing to do with Lockhart!
Still, a man sharp enough to juggle double loyalties between two Dark Lords was not to be underestimated. Snape's keen eyes could catch the faintest slip, he was suspicious of Lockhart, so that needed to be put in mind's corner.
"Professor," Lucifer said smoothly, "if you suspect Lockhart, then why didn't you speak to Dumbledore about it earlier?"
Snape gave him the sort of look reserved for idiots. "Last year, I warned Dumbledore about Quirrell more times than I can count. Did he listen? No. Don't be fooled by that 'genial facade' of his. Once the old man has made up his mind, no one can sway him."
"So?" The Gryffindor brat raised a brow, "He's the Headmaster, you're just a Head of House. If you can't overrule him, what good does telling me, a student, do?"
"Keep an eye on him." Snape's voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid the shadows themselves might overhear, "As a student, find out his true purpose. He could be another piece on the Dark Lord's board."
The doubt and paranoia nearly made Lucifer laugh out loud, "You do know how to set a challenge," he replied with an easy smile. "But shouldn't dangerous work like this fall to professors rather than students? Investigating him sounds like your job, not 'mine."'
Snape's hands clenched into fists at his sides. 'This boy... is he even human?'
Just standing near Lucifer filled him with an inexplicable sense of danger, as though he were facing some ancient predator that had slipped into the body of a schoolboy. This term, Snape hadn't breathed a word about dueling him.
He no longer believed he could win-even holding back the darker spells, even aiming only for a stalemate, the risk felt too great.
"One day, when disaster strikes, you'll regret this," he hissed.
Lucifer didn't bother replying. He simply said, "Help Sprout with Mandrakes' if needed. I don't want to delay 'my brewing."
He gave a polite nod, left the office, and made his way back to the Gryffindor tower.
xxxxxxx
By Wednesday, the weather turned sharper. The sudden chill swept through the castle, and a wave of colds spread among the students. Madam Pomfrey was overwhelmed, handing out doses of 'Pepperup Potion' left and right.
The potion worked instantly-sluggish students perked right up-but the next few hours came with smoke hissing from their ears, leaving the hospital wing smelling like a bonfire.
Still, neither the plunging temperatures nor the endless rain, or Mrs' Norris deserved death could stop Quidditch training. The first match after Halloween would be the fiercest rivalry of all: 'Gryffindor versus Slytherin.'
This year, the rivalry burned hotter than ever. Fred and George were constantly spying on the Slytherin team, eyeing the sleek Nimbus 2001s with mounting dread.
The gap in quality was like putting a GTX 960 against a 5080-completely unfair. Their only hope was Harry. If he caught the Snitch before the score gap exceeded 150 points, they could still win.
Once again, the fate of Gryffindor rested entirely on the 'Boy Who Lived.' Oliver Wood's training sessions grew more and more ruthless, every tactic designed around Harry's speed and instincts.
Even Lucifer after being invited to team happily shared "techniques" with the Quidditch team, which let him off from those hellish tranings.
Iron Mountain Slam. Earthquake Shake. Shoulder Drop Feints.
Not one had anything to do with the Quaffle. Dirty? Maybe. But fouls only meant penalties. Penalties were part of the rules. How could anyone call it underhanded? When it was right there in the book?
"Astoria, did you drink your potion today?"
Rain rattled against the castle windows like gunfire. It was the third straight day of downpour.
Lucifer and Hermione stepped out of Potions class, only to spot Astoria at the stairs. But instead of bounding toward them as usual, the girl froze.
The moment she saw them, she turned to run. He reached out in a single stride, catching her by the arm.
Her small face scrunched up, pitiful. "Lucifer... it's too disgusting. I can't drink that potion anymore."
"It's better than being bedridden with a fever." He ruffled her hair gently under the brunette's icy demeanor at the contact happening, still she endured, being a "good girl."
"Daphne, keep an eye on her. She doesn't leave the dorm until she finishes it."
"Heh heh. Finally, little sister--'you're at my mercy."
Daphne who also left the dungeon classroom and stopped to see, grinned wickedly, dragging Astoria off as the younger girl wailed. Lucifer could only shake his head helplessly.
Astoria's constitution was fragile.
Surrounded by sick classmates, she was at high risk. That's why he had brewed extra preventative potions for her. But the taste... 'indescribable.'
Not sugar, not milk, not even frying it up with pork and chili could save it.
So the only solution was force. Today, Lucifer finally hardened his heart, letting Daphne Greengrass, the older sibling handle the "enforcement."
After watching the two sisters leave, he climbed a different staircase, weaving their way for an empty room to practice dueling with Hermione.
xxxxxx
For a few days, the Hogwarts students could talk of little else aside from the attack on Mrs. Norris.
Filch made sure to keep it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back.
Harry had noticed that he'd been trying to scrub the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All- Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone.
When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for stupid reasons like 'breathing loudly' or 'looking happy' and it was getting on Harry's nerve.
As a pet owner himself, he'd be absolutely devastated if something like this happened to Hedwig, but he wouldn't lash out at anyone and everyone without probable cause.
Lucifer noticed that Hermione had been spending a lot more time in the School Library than usual, probably looking for the same thing everyone else was, but she always comes back in a shitty mood, than last.
On Sunday, when his roommates went to play in the Quidditch Grounds, Lucifer was having a day off, sleeping in bed.
It's just Hermione, who made a plan to have fun, stormed up to his dorm room and knocked on the door or his 'hardened curtain' furiously.
"Lucifer!! Lucifer!!! Open the door!!"
"Alohomora..." she heard him say behind the curtains. There was a click sound and she pushed it open, ready to give him a piece of her mind.
But she stopped and lost her train of thought when she saw him.
Lucifer didn't wear any shirt, lying on the bed in his usual position, head now facing the door. His blanket over the legs, eyes looking very tired, with a sleepy mood.
"Morning?" Hermione asked, barely above a whisper.
Not even a single noise was made. She directly marched towards him, arms crossed over her chest, with an extremely unhappy look.
Looking down at his face, with her reprimanding eyes, "Whaz's rong, 'Mione?" the boy asked, drowsily.
"You!" Hermione looked taken aback, "Didn't you just promise yesterday to play with me?!!" shouted like that on his face, troubling Lucifer's poor sleep.
"I did?" Infuriating boy groaned at her face, even dared to pull up the blanket, only for Hermione to snatch it away from him.
"You're going to get washed, brush your teeth and come with me down to the Black Lake!" Hermione gave him an order using her mother's tone, looking very superior.
______________
Author's Note
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