Inside, Lucifer lingered in Interdimensional Room he had conjured' up this year, not immediately opening the diary to confront the "Tom Riddle."
Instead, he turned to Astoria, lavishing her with praise until her cheeks burned crimson. He teased, flattered, and soothed her until the girl's shy smile was glowing brighter than the firelight. Only then did he coax her into drinking a few potions-'stronger, hardier brews meant to fortify her frail body.
Astoria was clever, loyal, and brave in her way-but fragile, too fragile. Lucifer intended to change that.
Later, the pair slipped quietly back, he was accompanying her into the Slytherin common room. The atmosphere in the corridor nearby there was bleak and heavy.
Escaping prefects, Disillusionment working as intended, bitterness hung over every corner. Astoria explained the blame, naturally, fell on Malfoy. He was always sulking in the shadows with Crabbe and Goyle, shoulders hunched, face stormy. No one offered comfort. This was Slytherin: reality mattered more than feelings, and failure was failure in Quidditch.
He spotted the other GreenGrass, Lucifer removed the spell, and her eyes squinted immediately.
"Where were you, Astoria?"
Daphne stood waiting, arms akimbo, cheeks puffed in anger. She glared between her sister and Lucifer. "You disappeared again. Now two of you to boot. For hours. Together. And you didn't even ask me to come along!"
Lately, Daphne's unease had only grown sharper. Lucifer and Astoria were whispering more and more, hiding things from her--and from a sleeping Hermione, too.
After her class ended, Astoria should have returned back under Prefect's safety, but she had vanished, gone for nearly two and a half hours, only to return together with Lucifer, looking suspiciously flushed and pleased with herself.
'This feels exactly like those romance dramas Mother now reads...' Daphne thought bitterly. 'If they don't explain themselves right now, I'll tell her and Nott---'
Lucifer and Astoria shared a look, both exhaling in silent resignation, "This is your sister," he said smoothly, stepping back and handing the problem off, "You deal with her."
He'd promised Ginny not to tell anyone but Dumbledore-but Daphne Greengrass was an exception in his mind. She wasn't "anyone." But... his people, or 'future step-daughter.'
Lucifer left immediately for his next class feeling a glare at back, while Astoria tugged her sister into a quieter corner, smiling wryly.
"Daphne... I was helping Lucifer with something important. Today, it finally got resolved."
Her words only made Daphne bristle more, "And why couldn't I help? Why didn't he come to me first, instead of you?"
She stamped her foot, eyes narrowing, her voice rising in accusation.
Astoria blinked, half amused, half exasperated. 'Merlin's beard... is she actually jealous of me?'
"Big sis, after Chamber is found, I'll explain everything to you then."
The little witch lowered her voice, her lips practically brushing against Daphne's ear. "It's about the Chamber of Secrets. We've already found the culprit..."
Daphne's eyes went wide in shock, but Astoria was ready for this. Her tiny hand shot out and clamped firmly over her sister's mouth.
"See, this is exactly why Lucifer didn't want to tell you yet," Astoria scolded, her tone sharp but hushed. "He knew you'd react like this."
Daphne pried her sister's hand off, rolling her eyes with exasperation. 'What a cheeky little brat-now you're even daring to lecture your big sister?'
No matter how Daphne pressed her with questions afterward, Astoria stubbornly refused to say more. She knew full well Lucifer would give the whole explanation later anyway.
Saying it now would just be wasting words.
xxxxxx
Meanwhile, in Lucifer's dorm...
That night, before bed, Ginny had practically sent him a full-blown essay. From the moment they had parted ways, she had written down every detail-where she had gone, what she had done, even exactly how much she'd eaten for supper.
And Lucifer's response? Just two words: "Read. Noted."
Ginny nearly exploded. She was so furious she almost tore her magical notebook, WhatsApp, into shreds. But of course... she couldn't bear to part with something so useful.
If Morningstar the bastard refused to give her attention, then fine--she'd just talk to 'Luna.'
So Ginny once again hugged her enchanted notebook and started a late-night conversation. And as always, Luna Lovegood-perched somewhere in Ravenclaw Tower--responded seriously to every line Ginny wrote.
Luna's mind was unlike anyone else's. She didn't care if others ignored her, but she could never refuse the warmth of someone reaching out.
The two girls marveled at how miraculous WhatsApp was, chatting back and forth until they finally drifted to sleep far too late.
xxxxxx
In truth, Lucifer had already finished his preparations.
Among all magical artifacts, this diary was the "strangest". It contained not just a memory of Riddle at 'fifteen', like earlier but also strange powers -absorbing life force, manipulating souls...'
To think a fifteen-year-old could manage this. Even Lucifer had to admit, it was staggering.
He compared it to his own methods. Yes, he could replicate most of it now--but where Riddle had literally split his soul, Lucifer couldn't do that, in fact it was forbidden in their very being, to all his siblings by Creator.
Intelligence-wise, the diary's version was sharper.
That was the thing--Riddle had been ruthless beyond belief to do it. Who knew how much of his soul he had carved away to create this?
Caution first. Lucifer summoned his two spectral individuals-one dark, one light--to investigate the diary without alerting it.
To his surprise, it wasn't Diablo, the master of dark magic, who identified it first--it was 'Testarosaa.'
The Demoness's face twisted with disgust the moment she recognized it., "A 'twistedsoul'. Damn that Trigon--it all goes back to him." Her voice dripped with scorn, "But what kind of man is left, once his soul is torn to pieces? They're no longer human--just slaves to their own magic."
"It's similar to what I read about 'Herpo the Foul' in books copied by Evelyn. Back then, creating Soul Shards was practically a dark wizard's fashion trend..."
Diablo shifted uncomfortably, eyes sliding away. A moment ago, he had been entertaining the idea of making a physical body himself--to walk on Mortal plane again...
But now, with Testarosaa, Primordial of White, one of Lucifer's brides, spitting such 'venom', he'd have to shelve that idea. At least publicly. Secretly, though... he wasn't about to give it up.
At their level of power, temptations like this could never truly be ignored.
Once Lucifer had checked that his mental defenses were perfectly sealed, he finally opened the diary. And for the 'first time' prepared to face each other. He considered it foolish to not have tried earlier, and left it in Potter's hands.
"Stop playing dead. I know what you've done."
The ink shimmered briefly, then vanished-swallowed into the page.
Moments later, words bled out across the parchment.
"'Hello, schoolmate. I think you've mistaken me for someone else. My name is Tom Riddle. I haven't done anything. How did you even get hold of my diary'?"
Lucifer could feel the subtle tug of something trying to pry into his mind. He chuckled darkly, dipping his quill.
"Hello, Tom Riddle. I am Lucifer Morningstar."
The words were written down, yet the diary gave no immediate response. It was as though the sentence that had appeared earlier had been nothing more than an illusion.
[So it is you. To encounter, 'fifty years' later, a student who bears the name as the Demon mentioned--'what a curious twist of fate'.]
Two whole minutes passed before the diary finally revealed this faint, slanted line of ink.
But of course, the fragment of Voldemort's soul hidden within the diary was not nearly as calm as it pretended to be.
Events had veered far off the expected course--somehow the diary had slipped out of Ginny Weasley's hands and ended up with this 'Lucifer Morningstar!'
And judging by what it had already uncovered, this boy knew far too much. Tom Riddle had of course thrown the demon word to derail his thinking, such things didn't exist, it was just a result of Herpo's madness to describe the name "Trigon." in his 'finalmoments' of lost manuscripts.
Foolish little redhead. The Weasleys were always good for nothing but trouble. Yet Voldemort knew panic would be his undoing. To survive, he had to mask everything, to deny everything. 'Ginny Weasley was a gullible simpleton'--she remembered nothing substantial, only scraps of suspicion and incoherent fragments.
He would have to rely on Graham's boy to find the girl. Lucifer tapped the page again, ink bleeding into words:
"Demon or Devil--it's far too common for idiots to acclaim they have been possessed in Britain."
[But I am not like them. I walked into the magical world and became an outstanding student.]
Lucifer smirked at the answer, "I like your honesty, Little Tom. Ginny told me everything--how you wormed your way into her trust, step by step, until she handed you her secrets, and you opened the Chamber... and attacked students."
[I don't know what you're talking about.]
"Feigning ignorance won't save you. Tell me---if I were to write with ink brewed from 'cow dung, how would you feel about our conversation then?"
The fragment's rage spiked. If he had a body, Tom Marvolo Riddle would already have raised his wand and blasted this insolent boy with a Killing Curse.
[You filthy-Morningstar, how dare you!]
"Spare me. If you keep wasting my time, I'll find something even 'fouler' to dip my quill in."
The diary fell silent for a long moment. Then finally---
[...You win, Lucifer.]
The words bled slowly across the parchment. Voldemort's memory could no longer deny it. This boy's confidence, his unflinching attitude, had cornered him completely. Pretending further would only make him look ridiculous.
[Yes. It was I who guided Ginny to open the Chamber. And yes, the monster within is the Basilisk bred by Salazar Slytherin himself. As his heir, I merely honored the will of my noble ancestor.]
[Lucifer--since Ginny talked much about you, I was curious. She told me you are a Muggle-born, and yet you shattered the Sorting Hat's record. That alone proves noble blood runs through your veins somewhere.]
[A parallel childhood. Power and talent that rise far above your peers. You and I are... very much alike.]
[And to deduce the basilisk's presence merely from hints? Even I did not anticipate such sharp insight.]
[So let me guess-you realized I was behind this, but you did not hand the diary to Dumbledore. That means you want something from me. And what else could it be but Slytherin's legacy?]
[Yes. Every Slytherin carries ambition. And I can help you. My ancestor's greatest secrets-rituals, knowledge, enchantments -were nearly all burned, destroyed so no rival might steal them. But I preserved them here, in these pages.]
Lucifer chuckled softly and swapped his quill for a fresh one.
"Your observation is sharp as well, Old Tom. You guessed right--I do want 'Slytherin's legacy'. He was a sorcerer whose name shook the world. Since, I denied fate, I now have the key to where your very ancestor most likely resides, he'll serve me in a few years once the Chains are removed."
"You however, bring forth the path to Chamber of Secrets'. And don't you dare try to fob me off with forgeries. I'm not Ginny--I'm no fool."
Far away, Ginny sneezed violently while gossiping with Luna.
[To seize what is mine by force is hardly the mark of a noble wizard.]
"Noble? You're a diary, mate. Don't preach to me about nobility. Obey, or I'll chuck you into a centaur's dung pit."
The diary pulsed with silent outrage. How could such a crude, vulgar brat possibly have been Sorted into Slytherin? How could he have undone the grand design Voldemort had laid last year?! Was there no justice left in the world?
The memory tried probing again, reaching tendrils of influence outward as it had with Ginny. But against this boy? It was like waves crashing against a mountain. Nothing took root. He could not move him.
So Voldemort did the only thing a true Slytherin could. He endured. He bided his time. Graham would have to be.
[Lucifer, you must understand-I am only a memory, etched here when I was fifteen. The work was imperfect, unpolished. Fifty years have passed. Many of my recollections are hazy, some lost. The diary itself has suffered damage. If I had energy to restore myself, I could give you far more -true secrets, true power. Perhaps even the mantle of Heir of Slytherin itself.]
Lucifer narrowed his eyes, the smirk tugging again at his lips. "Energy, is it?"
[Animal blood-preferably from magical beasts. Ginny managed to supply me with plenty of chicken blood. Without it, I would never have had the strength to speak with you at all. I'd have long since fallen back into slumber.]
"But what you really wanted," Lucifer wrote lazily, "was my life force, wasn't it?"
The diary hesitated. Silence.
Lucifer chuckled coldly. "Don't bother pretending, Old Tom. Your little tricks can't fool me. You may have Slytherin's legacy, but I am someone 'far greater' than you. Sit tight while I wring you dry--perhaps, if I'm in a good mood, I'll reward you with a drop of dragon's blood."
How very... Slytherin. The memory within the diary seethed. Even without a body, he could almost feel his lungs burning. But he had no bargaining power left, no leverage--only the choice to endure, to gather strength quietly, like a viper coiled in the shadows waiting for its strike.
[I understand.]
The line faded into view, followed soon by an outpouring of magical knowledge. Lucifer's lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile. Exactly as he expected.
No matter which stage of life, this boy named "Tom Riddle"-one thing never changed: 'fear of death.'
The diary never truly saw itself as a Soul Shard, a tool. It clung to the illusion of being 'fifteen-year-old' Tom Riddle. And when pressed, humiliated, insulted--still, it chose submission. Lucifer flicked his wrist, and sheets of parchment, quills, and ink flew to his side.
Path that appeared on the diary's pages, he copied meticulously, filling three whole sheets before the flow of text ebbed.
[Lucifer, this is all I can manage for now. I've reached my limit. After today, I will need to rest for a while--unless you accelerate my recovery.]
[You will have to decipher it yourself to discover the Chamber of Secrets']
The ink grew faint, the last word almost invisible before it vanished.
Lucifer didn't bother to reply. He closed the diary, gathered his notes, and carried them into the dimensional space, where parchment became tangible records.
Diablo was already waiting, pacing like a wolf in a cage. The moment their Ruler appeared, the Demon's sharp eyes lit with hunger.
"You have it?"
When it came to the legacy of Salazar Slytherin, even he could not disguise his anticipation.
Lucifer spread the parchments. "Just the basics. You'll check for errors-if he tried to slip in deliberate falsehoods, I'll make him regret it."
Diablo nodded, and Lucifer duplicated the records, passing a copy to Testarosaa.
Salazar Slytherin had lived a millennium ago, at the twilight of the chaotic old magical order and the dawn of structured, modern sorcery. His lore straddled both worlds.
These two are perfect in task of dissecting separately. They poured over the pages, cross-examining every detail. At last, their gazes met, and both inclined their heads.
"No tampering," Diablo said quietly.
"At least not this time."
Testarosaa added with a grin, "He's only a fifth-year memory. Even if he wanted to forge advanced knowledge, he wouldn't have had the skill. Any nonsense, we'd have spotted instantly."
Lucifer smirked, "Looks like Riddle knows when to bend. Dangle him a taste of reward, and he rolls over nicely...."
Diablo arched an eyebrow. "He'll want stronger beast blood next. Shall I... enhance it a little? Slip in something subtle? A fifth-year human whelp won't notice."
Lucifer tapped his chin, "And what about Dumbledore? Would he notice?"
That silenced Diablo. He grimaced, shoulders stiffening. Albus Dumbledore-greatest white wizard of the century. It did not mean his mastery of the Dark Magic was any weaker. If he chose to look closely...
"...If it were Guy Crimson or you My Lord with more than a quarter of today's strength, it'd fool him. But now?" Diablo coughed delicately, "Better not to risk it. Your magicule signature is much powerful to be ignored."
Lucifer tilted his head. "Then you think I won't give the diary to Dumbledore?"
"You'd keep it?" Diablo's eyes narrowed.
"Of course not." Lucifer's look was almost incredulous, "What good is this diary to me once I've drained the path of Chamber? It'll be nothing but a nuisance. Handing it to the Headmaster makes far more sense. He'll see me as a boy who, even when offered temptation, chose trust and honesty. I will look like the model student. And drop the problem in his lap. Perfect, isn't it?"
Diablo stared at him, then let out a long breath. "...You're ruthless, My Lord. You've read Dumbledore like a book. Mischief he'll forgive. Even when you upended his plans with Lockhart, he let it pass. But in the big things... you show loyalty, wisdom, restraint. He'll see you as another Newt Scamander."
Beside him, Testarosaa sighed heavily. Being the blunt one among two schemers was exhausting.
"Let the old man have his burdens," The Primordial Black muttered at last with a dark glint, "Dumbledore could use the exercise."
Lucifer ignored him, turning to his wife, "Don't forget what I asked of you. I'm counting on results."
Testarosaa looked proud.
Diablo frowned at being ignored, why was this old woman trusted more than him, just because she had feminine viles,"What did he ask you to do, White?"
"Nothing much." The evolved Demoness's who was now the White Peer, rubbed a finger to her chin, beard, "He wants a method to destroy soul fragments if possible, better without harming the diary itself."
Diablo blinked, as he concealed his mask of jealousy, "And why didn't our Lord Lucifer ask me?"
"Because," Testarosaa said honestly with an elegant amused giggle, "he thinks you're a destructive lunatic. Precision work isn't your strength."
Diablo's face twitched violently. Destructive lunatic? He-the Primordial Black was being compared to this mountain of muscle? Outrageous!
"This task is no easy, even Death itself couldn't escape the wrath of Creator! What can us demons do?"
"Surely, we can at least try, even if it's too centuries or millennia."
xxxxxxx
The next evening was infamous, 'Lockhart's Arrest', the exact moment when he would be allowed to leave the Hospital wing, Lucifer had been already informed of the Auror's presence by Evelyn Greengrass.
As if the lady luck had favoured him, it was Ginny who came up with results first about the location of Chamber of Secrets', and told him to come over----
The place where Myrtle's Bathroom was closely located in. Upon slowing the footsteps, Lucifer found Ginny standing idly, her hand near the wall, like she was painting something onto.
"Ginny? What are you doin---is that Percy's body on the left?"
His prefect badge was thrown at the edge of a pillar ominously, kicked aside by someone. She turned to look at him and her eyes looked soulless.
Then turned to fully face him and she smirked, "Fooled you out, didn't I?" Her voice sounded like it was melded with a male voice, "Flourish and Botts', remember anything?"
"That cauldron... Ginny'd gotten it before school started, but her trunk was empty on the train and---" he remembered Lucius Malfoy picking out a book of hers before shoving back in the Cauldron, "That bastard..."
"But I removed the Imperius Curse."
"Well now, I guess the secret will die with you," she raised her wand, "Avada Kedavra!"
Lucifer really didn't know what compelled him to, but he raised his hand, as though to stop the spell from hitting him.

The spell did indeed stop, but he felt it trying to force its way towards him. He closed his fist around the spell before he was blown backwards and impacted the wall painfully, before falling and lying motionless on the ground. Body glowing with the colour of 'Avada Kedavra' itself.
Ginny turned back to the wall to add something to it:
'Her Skeleton will lie in the Chamber, forever.'
A pity you never figured me out
- Lucifer Morningstar.
_________
For Tom Riddle, life inside the diary had been going quite comfortably for Voldemort these past twenty hours.
Lucifer had fed it with a steady stream of vital blood, and the old shadow within the pages had grown visibly stronger.
But Voldemort had forgotten one truth: 'the higher the magic, the higher the counter.'
And Lucifer was not just any student--he was a walking cheat code, an "evil cultivator" of sorts, playing with every stacked advantage. How could a trapped shard of boy's soul hope to best him?
He had already made it clear: if he was willing to feed Tom Riddle crumbs of power, then he was absolutely confident in keeping him on a leash. Life force theft, soul corruption, mental ensnarements-all the tricks Riddle tried--were useless against Lucifer's fortified soul and his constant vigilance.
Threats and bargains wrung some treasures from the diary already. Lucifer had pulled out plenty of useful lore, 'especially Slytherin's grisly experiments' with magical creatures. To Devil himself, those meant little, who had powers beyond.
But for others? That knowledge could elevate ordinary wizards terrifyingly high. He had thought this little arrangement could last longer.
Unfortunately, Riddle had reached his breaking point. As Lucifer dipped his quill into the ink and scribbled on the diary in a History of Magic's class.
"Old Tom, don't give up on me now. I'm just an ordinary second-year boy. You've already regained so much strength--one more push, and maybe you'll take over my body and open the 'Chamber' again, let the basilisk out for a stroll, eh?"
The ink bled back furiously:
"You lying brat! You're no second-year student. You're an ancient monster disguising yourself with youth magic-I see through you!"
"Yes, Slytherin's legacy goes deeper, into magics you can't even comprehend. But I won't give them to you. I 'forget. Unless you restore me fully-give me power, give me blood, give me life-you'll get nothing."
"Either help me regain my prime, or destroy me. I don't care anymore. Do your worst! I refuse to keep dancing like your puppet. I don't believe you even can destroy me--you don't have that kind of power."
The words slashed across the page like a tantrum, raw and unpolished. The diary had dropped all pretense, all politeness. Tom Riddle was broken, cornered.
Once, he had tried to outplay Lucifer, to maneuver and deceive, keeping his secrets close while bleeding scraps of knowledge. Now he saw no way forward. The boy was too shrewd, too ruthless, too guarded. He saw through every blurred detail, every half-truth, punishing Riddle with cruel precision.
The truth was simple: the diary didn't hold Slytherin's full legacy. A few scraps, a core or two perhaps, yes. But nothing like the complete trove Riddle once hinted at.
He was nearly wrung dry. And if he gave Lucifer more... he would only be raising up his own executioner.
Selfishness was Voldemort's defining trait. Even as a scrap of soul, he couldn't stand the idea of empowering someone else. His deepest treasures--Horcruxes, 'Dark Arts perfected-were never meant to be shared.'
Not with allies, not with servants, not even with other fragments of himself. Helping Lucifer grow stronger? That was tantamount to murdering his true self. 'Never!'
The pages shook with angry script.
Lucifer's face remained blank as he calmly snapped the diary shut.
"Enough."
So, the older boy wanted to play hardball? Threaten him with silence? Pretend he had leverage?
Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Not worth humoring."
'Did he really think I need him? That I could be threatened with scraps of knowledge? If it came to it----Why humour a crippled diary fragment when I could drag the real Slytherin himself from history?'
No--Riddle was mistaken if he thought Lucifer could be held hostage. Calmly, he layered a series of powerful seals across the diary, locking it tight. Not even a whisper of 'soul-leakage' could seep out now. Then he rose from his desk without a flicker of agitation on his face.
He wasn't rattled. He wasn't desperate. If anything, he was mildly amused. The day rolled by with its routine of classes.
And, now present------
Lucifer heard conversation between two individuals. One of them sounded like an adult, but he couldn't tell for sure. All he did know was that his head was throbbing.
"You're not," he heard the faint sound of a boy around his age. He felt like he'd heard the voice before.
"Not what?" The other voice snapped at him.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world..." the first voice said. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so-" he
He tried to move his body, but found that his arms and legs were bound in place. Lucifer struggled against the magical binding chains that held him in place. He focused his magic, building it so that he could break free.
"He's not as gone as you mightthink!" A voice said.
It was the voice of Harry Potter.
Lucifer Morningstar opened his eyes,
teeth clutching his binds, letting his magic loose and breaking free from his bindings. He hit the floor with a thud, and the other two stopped talking but not because of him, they all heard the sound of singing.
Lucifer stood up slowly and leaned up against a pillar. He walked around it until he saw a Phoenix carrying a hat, the 'Sorting Hat.'
"That's a Phoenix..." the ghostly figure said.
"Fawkes?" Harry said breathlessly.
"And that--" the man pointed towards, "that's the old school Sorting Hat..."
The man began to laugh, "This is what Dumbledore sent to his 'defender? A song bird and an old hat?" He laughed again, "Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"
"I should be asking you that," Lucifer
said, getting their attention.
"You!?" The man standing up said, "But you died!"
The memory flooded back into Lucifer like the sky suddenly opened up and released all the water in the atmosphere. He recalled being hit with a spell, the incantation was 'Avada Kedavra.' Ah, he was supposed to be dead, Killing Curse.
"Many tried over the centuries. Just couldn't accept the truth..."
"No matter, 'you and Harry Potter' will die here, but please, humor me for a moment, tell me your name, 'your real identity, before you die'? Who are you?" The man asked him.
"And why would I tell Tom Riddle?"
"How did you live--" Tom asked him.
"That is not your concern but I am really just 'ol'Lucifer Morningstar'," he said, while his eyes began to glow.
This tall man's figure that was at the base of Salazar Slytherin's grotesque stone monument had mist still clung to his form, softening his edges, making it hard to tell whether he was spirit or flesh. Slowly, the outline of a boy became solid.
The air shimmered once, and then there he stood, a tall, dark-haired youth with an elegance so sharp it bordered on unnatural. His skin was pale as moonlight, his eyes fathomless, like black lakes that saw too much. Even Harry, who had faced death, monsters, and worse, was momentarily struck silent.
The boy's features were flawless. A straight nose, sculpted cheekbones, the calm poise of someone who knew he was destined for greatness.
It was unsettling.
Because apart from Lucifer himself, Harry had never seen anyone who looked more... 'perfect.'
Harry whispered uncertainly, "Are you really that Voldemort?"
He couldn't reconcile this, the dark-haired, breathtaking young man before him, with the snake-like creature he'd faced the year before, that noseless face twisted by evil.
The stranger gave a small, knowing smile, "No need to doubt," The man said softly. His voice was smooth, confident, dripping with quiet menace, "I am 'Lord Voldemort'."
The name seemed to echo, bouncing off the serpent-carved walls, "And you boy, your identity."
"'The Devil."
"D-Devil is not real...?" Even Tom Riddle seemed quite afraid for a moment.
Aragog. The name alone made Lucifer sigh. It felt like a cosmic joke. That venomous, eight-legged monstrosity the size of a carriage was suspected to be the Chamber's monster.
'Brilliant,' he thought dryly, 'It must be because of Legs. Too many legs. Great logic...'
And to make matters worse, 'killing' Aragog seemed... wasteful just because it had betrayed. The creature had lived for fifty years; its venom was one of the rarest substances known to wizardkind. Lucifer'd been planning to visit it soon, maybe even 'convince' it to cooperate.
They'd entered the Chamber of Secrets. The room was vast, stretching beyond sight, lined with towering stone pillars coiled by giant snakes. Their eyes seemed to follow every movement. The air was thick with age, ancient magic humming in the walls.
At the far end stood a statue so immense it seemed to touch the ceiling, the wizened, cruel face of 'Salazar Slytherin' himself, with a beard like coarse roots and a mouth that seemed carved for hissing.
Even through Lucifer's hardened composure, a faint note of distaste crept into his voice, "Slytherin really spared no effort, did he?"
In the psychic space of his mind, Testarosaa gave a low whistle.
"'Well," the Primordial White Demoness mused, "at least he had taste. Overbuilt, perhaps, but taste."
Mazikeen' snorted. "Taste? This is excessive. You could fit an entire cathedral down here. He could've expanded the Great Hall instead!"
"Perhaps he didn't like people," Testarosaa offered dryly, while purifying 'her husband's body' that had been hurled, an end number of 'brutal curses' by that Dark Lord to the point Graham's wand had gotten broken.
Their banter echoed faintly in Lucifer's head. He sighed and, remembering his human companion, waved his wand to release the petrification. Harry collapsed to the floor with a groan but years of Quidditch training kicked in fast. He snatched his wand from his pocket and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
The red bolt of light shot straight at Lucifer, and vanished before it even reached him. Not deflected. Not dodged. Simply gone. He didn't even blink, getting caught up to catch 'Killing Curse' was a simple moment of bad judgement.
"Really?" he said, sounding almost disappointed. "You didn't listen to a word I said earlier, did you?"
He sighed again, almost fatherly, "That kind of spell wouldn't scratch me. Now be a good boy, Harry, and just... stand there. You'll understand soon..."
Harry's knuckles whitened around his wand. "You, you're not possessed by him?"
Lucifer smiled faintly, and for a moment, something warm flickered in his expression , something Harry couldn't quite read.
"No, Harry. I'm not possessed. I'm far 'moredangerous' than that."
Then, with almost imperceptible amusement, Voldemort' inclined his head toward Lucifer, "You, Morningstar... you've earned my respect."
He turned his attention to Harry, his tone shifting to something silkier, and infinitely colder, "'The Boy Who Lived," he said. "Harry Potter. I have waited a long time for this."
Harry's throat tightened.
Voldemort smiled thinly. "I paid a terrible price to stand before you, Harry. All I wish... is to talk."
"Talk," Lucifer interrupted flatly, stepping forward, "Fine. But first.." He pointed at the diary on the floor, aiming his wand at it, "You still owe me my payment. The inheritance, remember?"
For a moment, irritation flickered across Voldemort's perfect face, he couldn't find the boy's wand, no matter what he did. Then he smoothed it away, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Impatient as ever," he said softly. "Very well. The inheritance is here, in this Chamber. But to awaken it..."
His gaze slid toward the wand clutched tightly in Harry's hand, "I will need that. It needs to be given by your sworn enemy, not taken."
He smiled faintly, "Care to gamble, Devil?"
Lucifer looked over his shoulder.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Give him the wand."
"Are you insane?!" Harry clutched his wand tighter, backing away, "He's 'Voldemort! You can't jus---"
"Oh, don't be dramatic," Lucifer said with an exasperated sigh, "We've fought him before, haven't we? What's one wand going to change? He can't exactly conjure an apocalypse from a school basement."
"Lucifer!"
But Lucifer was already raising his hand. A flick of invisible magic tore through the air, and Harry's wand was ripped from his grasp, flying neatly into 'Voldemort's waiting hand'.
"Much better," Voldemort murmured, admiring it. He gave it a testing wave, and with a thunderous crack, one of the stone pillars exploded into dust.
He smiled, clearly pleased. "Phoenix feather... interesting. Fawkes's feather, if I'm not mistaken."
He glanced at Harry, his smirk widening, "'Your wand and mine are siblings, then. Same core, different shells. How poetic."
He let out a soft chuckle. "To share that bond with you, Harry Potter, truly, it's an insult. I imagine Fawkes must feel the same."
Harry bristled, trying to find his courage, but the words stuck in his throat. He edged behind Lucifer almost instinctively.
Voldemort laughed quietly. "Brave words, but you hide behind him. Typical Gryffindor courage, all noise, no bite. 'Your mouth is annoying," he added, his eyes narrowing. "But compared to 'Lucifer's... you're harmless."
Harry blinked. "Lucifer's, what?" He turned to look at his crazy friend, confused. Lucifer's mouth? What's wrong with his mouth?
He'd always thought Lucifer just had a... temper. Sure, he'd seen professors and students alike get lashed by his sharp tongue, but was it really that bad?
He didn't have long to dwell on it.
Voldemort stepped forward, raising the wand again. He pointed it toward the looming statue of Salazar Slytherin. Ancient words rolled from his tongue, a chant heavy with power.
The massive stone hand of the statue trembled, groaned, then moved.
The Chamber rumbled like an awakening beast. The statue's arm lifted, and behind it, a vast circular cavity began to open, darkness spilling forth like smoke.
"The core of the inheritance lies beyond," Voldemort said softly, his voice carrying a strange reverence. "'Most of it, I've already passed on to you, Lucifer. What remains is yours for the taking."
He turned slightly, smiling, too calm, too certain. "But tell me... when my true self discovers what I've done, what do you think he'll feel? Anger? Fear? Or amusement that I've forged a rival strong enough to threaten him?"
There was something unholy in the way he said it, like he almost wanted that confrontation. Harry, trembling but defiant, blurted again, "The greatest wizard in the world isn't you. It's Dumbledore."
For the second time, Voldemort's handsome face twisted. The air seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant. His smile vanished, replaced by a sneer that made his flawless features almost monstrous.
"You dare," he hissed, "to compare me... to him?!" The echo of his rage rolled through the Chamber like a storm. And Harry realized, this wasn't just Voldemort speaking to him.
This was the hatred of a god who could not bear to be human.
"Dumbledore?" Voldemort's voice dripped with disdain. "He's nothing but a decrepit fool, a relic, a doddering old man clinging to ideals that mean nothing. What did he send, a bird, and a dirty hat?!"
He stepped forward, the emerald glow of the Chamber's torches flickering across his sharp features, "He couldn't stop me. He never could. It was Lucifer who recognized what I truly was, who saw my brilliance and freed me from that silly girl, Ginny Weasley."
Voldemort's smirk widened, cruel and triumphant, "And your precious Dumbledore, in all his so-called wisdom, hadn't even noticed what she was doing under Gryffindor. Man's ignorance is boundless. He might as well have been working for me!"
Harry froze, the realization crashing into him like a rogue Bludger. He was right, Dumbledore hadn't figured it out, the old wizard wasn't even inside the Castle itself? He was driven out by Voldemort's mere diary. That, that couldn't be more useless. Could it?
But as the truth settled, a strange calm spread through him. Fawkes was here. The last of his hesitation melted away. Harry straightened his back, chin high, voice steady.
"You can sneer all you want," he said fiercely, "but facts don't change, Voldemort. The greatest wizard alive is Dumbledore, and the greatest wizard of the future is Lucifer. You? You've already lost. You're nothing but a loser."
Voldemort's eyes glinted dangerously, but his smile didn't falter. "Harry Potter," he said softly, "I've recently learned a phrase from Lucifer, a saying."
His tone turned mocking. "A dog relying on its master's might."
His lips curled, "It fits you perfectly."
Harry flushed scarlet. He couldn't even argue, it did sound about right.
Lucifer sighed audibly, breaking the tension, "All right, enough of the barking contest. You've seen the boy, Voldemort. 'Wishfulfilled. Now. You even asked me to kill him, how cute..."
He gestured toward the Slytherin statue, "Call forth the Basilisk and be done with it. After that, I'll hand you to Dumbledore myself. You've wasted enough of my time...." He'd already tried speaking Parseltongue to the statue earlier, but nothing happened.
Perhaps the Ancient chamber simply didn't recognize him, perhaps it rejected anyone without Slytherin's bloodline. The thought made his jaw twitch.
If he ever got the chance to meet Salazar Slytherin himself, he decided grimly, he'd give the smug old 'founder' a piece of his mind.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "You think you can dictate terms to me?" His voice dripped with venom. "Very well, Lucifer. I'll summon your precious serpent. But whether you leave here alive..." His smile sharpened, "That depends on how strong you really are."
He turned, raising Harry's wand, and hissed in Parseltongue: "Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the four founders!"
The sound reverberated through the Chamber, a sibilant whisper that crawled beneath the skin. The colossal statue began to move. Its stone lips split open, widening into a dark, yawning pit.... From within came a low hiss, and unmistakable slither of something vast awakening after a thousand years.
Before Harry could even breathe, Voldemort spun, his wand snapping up, "Avada Kedavra!"
A streak of blinding green shot across the Chamber, slicing the air with a thunderclap. Lucifer flicked his wrist. The Killing Curse ricocheted off the ground, exploding against a stone pillar and showering debris everywhere.
The echo of Voldemort's laughter filled the chamber. "You tortured me endlessly, Lucifer," he shouted over the noise. "And, I returned the favour, you will feel the curse very soon. It's my turn. 'Either kill me here, or die yourself!' Because following Dumbledore will only lead to your ruin!"
He moved faster than thought. A barrage of curses burst from his wand, silent, deadly, relentless. Each one a manifestation of years of obsession, fury, and genius.
The Chamber became a storm of dark light, silent curses that cracked the walls, spells that twisted gravity, flares of violet and black that hissed as they struck the floor.
Voldemort was a prodigy of magic, sixteen years old when he had split his soul. A true descendant of Salazar Slytherin, his power even now was staggering. He raised his wand again, voice sharp as a blade:
"Maledicta Omnia!"
Golden light flared from his wand tip, erupting outward in a shockwave that shattered the remnants of his own spells, and vaporized any defensive wards around them.
Lucifer didn't flinch. He didn't block this time, because blocking a 'Killing Curse' or a curse of that scale while his body was already dealing with after-effects would be foolish.
Instead, he twisted his wrist, redirecting the incoming surge into the ground. The light exploded harmlessly against the tiles, burning a crater the size of a cauldron.
He exhaled slowly, almost amused. "You've got quite the temper," Then he turned his head slightly. "Harry, your wand's tainted."
Harry, who had already flattened himself on the floor, tried to make himself even smaller. "I-I noticed," he muttered weakly.
Lucifer's lips quirked in a smirk. "Good survival instincts, though." He flicked his fingers, and the diary, still lying open on the ground, flew into his hand. Voldemort's expression twisted, fury replacing arrogance.
"Lucifer Morningstar!" he roared, "You dare steal from me? You have no honor!"
Lucifer's smirk widened, eyes glowing faintly red, "Honor?" he said softly. "I burned that word out of my vocabulary the moment I met you."
He raised the Diary high, magic coiling around his arm like a serpent ready to strike. The Chamber shook again, this time, not from the Basilisk's slithering... but from Lucifer's power building to its breaking point.
Voldemort's laughter faltered. 'For the second time since his resurrection, even deeper fear crossed his face than before when he saw the boy surviving his Killing Curse!'
"Lucifer Morningstar! If you've got any courage at all, put down that diary and face me like a wizard!"
Voldemort's voice echoed through the Chamber, shrill with fury. His eyes burned crimson as he pointed at Lucifer, spittle flying. "Is intimidation all you know? Fight me properly! Show me what your magic is worth!"
Lucifer gave him a cold, amused look. "Little Voldy, you really don't understand the situation, do you?"
His tone was calm, almost casual, even as the sound of something massive slithering closer grew louder in the tunnel behind them, "You, " he said, his voice softening to something dangerous, "---are nothing more than a shadow, a ghostly echo of resentment. You have no flesh, no soul. You're not my rival. You're a reflection. Why would I waste my time fighting a reflection?"
He tilted his head slightly, smirking, "When I meet your real self one day, that's when I'll give him my full attention. But you, " his eyes glinted red, "----your scene is over."
He raised his hand, "Cruciatus."
A crimson light burst from his palm and wrapped around Voldemort. The once-proud Dark Lord let out a hoarse, inhuman scream, clutching at his head as the curse tore through his incorporeal form.
"Kill him! Kill him!" Voldemort howled, voice cracking with pain. "Use your eyes! NOW!"
From the gaping maw of Salazar Slytherin's stone statue came a bone-rattling hiss, and then, it appeared. The Basilisk, the ancient Serpent King.
Nearly a hundred feet long, its body gleamed an eerie emerald, scales thick as armor, muscles rolling like ocean waves. Two swollen ridges crowned its flattened skull, framing eyes that could bring death with a single glance.
A trial of venom, vision, and death itself. And for Lucifer Morningstar, that meant only one thing:
It was time to hunt.
At Voldemort's command, the monster hissed furiously, its titanic body slithering between the pillars, the air vibrating with the scrape of scale on stone.
"Hexa Arcum!"
Lucifer's wand snapped up. One hand still clamped tightly on the Diary, the other rose steadily, his magic pulsing like thunder. Several massive pillars trembled violently, and then ripped free from the floor, arcs of blue lightning crackling across their surfaces.
The electrified columns slammed around the Basilisk, trapping it in a cage of lightning and stone. The serpent thrashed, hissing in fury, its muscles seizing under the paralyzing shocks.
Voldemort, still writhing from the Cruciatus, gritted his teeth and began hurling curses wildly. But each spell either missed or shattered harmlessly against the radiant wings of light and shadow unfurled behind Lucifer's back.
He caught Harry Potter by the collar, who was standing frozen with his eyes screwed shut.
"Not bad," Lucifer chuckled, hauling him effortlessly off the ground, "You even remember not to look a Basilisk in the eye. I'm impressed."
Harry, eyes still squeezed shut, muttered, "Professor Binns literally just taught us about 'Herpo the Foul' last week. My memory isn't that bad."
Voldemort' had ordered the Basilisk, to kill them. Lucifer had eyes, glowing red, and stared the Basilisk down. He didn't know why he tried to intimidate it, considering the size difference, or why he matched gazes at all, because what if his glowing red eyes hadn't saved him, what if Grindelwald' spell hadn't worked?
Before he had a chance to think much else, Lucifer heard Voldemort' shout in English, "No!"
He looked over and saw that Tom was furious, and Fawkes was pecking the eyes out of the Basilisk! It was safe to not have his eyes red, but he was furious and couldn't stop them.
Angry at Tom, Lucifer broke one of the columns and hurled a huge chunk of rock right at him, but it went right through him. He redirected the shapened needle rock and 'flung' it at the Basilisk's mouth, but it did minimal damage, only a few of it's tooth clattered at the floor, nearing Harry Potter's legs by a mysterious powder of luck itself.
Lucifer unaware laughed under his breath as he toyed with the Snake, "Relax, I had come prepared. Your eyes and the Basilisk's will never meet. But well, 'Fawkes had taken care of that completely now..."
He rose higher into the air, the black-and-white wings beating with power. Behind them, Voldemort's curses tore through the Chamber like silent thunderbolts, some punching holes clean through Lucifer's glowing feathers, but each wound healed instantly, magic flowing through him like 'living fire!'
Voldemort, however, was unraveling. His form flickered like smoke, fading with every word.
"Lucifer..." he rasped, his voice now barely a whisper. "You won't escape the consequences of thi-----"
Harry reached for the Sorting Hat. He placed it on his head, which Lucifer didn't readily understand, but when the 'Boy Who Lived' removed the hat, a Sword appeared from underneath.
"Lucifer? Your eyes, they are no longer red... wh-what are you..."
Harry trailed off. Ginny stirred a moment, but she was still out of it. Lucifer looked over, only now realizing she was there, before looking back at the Chosen One, he gave the Diary to the boy.
"I'm gonna kill this fucking snake..." His hand summoned the Sword, and knuckles turned red from how hard he was gripping the handle, "for what it did to Hermione..."
"You've inherited everything I once possessed," Voldemort said bitterly, his face twisting, "You'll either sit on a throne of power and never use it, or you'll throw yourself into madness, testing Dumbledore's limits. That's what I see in you."
He looked past Lucifer to Harry, who stood silent, uncertain as he held the Diary, and Basilisk's fang, wanting nothing more than to stab Voldemort''s precious item with it.
"Do you know why I wanted 'Harry Potter here?" Voldemort's smile was serpentine, "To be a witness. Kill him, Lucifer. Blame it all on me. Then no one will ever know what you've truly gained..."
'Stabbbb~~! Gusshh!'
Harry Potter finally had enough, he stabbed the cursed journal, making a bloody hole inside, that seemed to start leaking black coloured goo, which he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
To his and Lucifer's astonishing, and dumbfounded gaze, Voldemort's laughter broke into a scream, and with a sound like shattering glass, his ghostly form disintegrated into black smoke, writhing violently as he shouted, "Noooo! Salazar's gravvv---!?!"
The Cruciatus hadn't destroyed his 'fragment of soul', but a mere tantrum of Harry Potter doing harm to Tom Riddle's Diary, which anchored him to the physical plane, immediately god sent The Dark Lord 'forced' into poofs of wild thin air.
"Bloody hell...." Harry's stomach turned with a stupid delighted grin, but Voldemort's words clung to his mind like a curse. The way he spoke of Slytherin's "legacy", what could possibly be so forbidden that Dumbledore would reject it?
He turned, his voice trembling, "Lucifer... you're not seriously..."
The wand slipped from his spectral hand vanishing and clattered to the floor, Harry went to pick it up, as if given another life.
Lucifer looked down at the Diary, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, he asked, "Why? Did you think I might actually kill you?"
Harry laughed nervously. "That's, that's not funny." He was armed, but still trembling. If Lucifer wanted him dead, not even the 'BoyWho Lived''s aura could stop him.
Lucifer tilted his head. "Who said I was joking?" he said lightly, "Actually... the thought is tempting. Dumbledore's out of the castle tonight, after all."
Harry went pale, his throat locking up. A thunderous crack echoed through the Chamber. The Basilisk had broken free. With a roar that shook the 'foundations' of Hogwarts, it shattered the electrified pillars, sending chunks of marble flying. Its massive head reared back, jaws yawning wide.
Lucifer moved instantly.
His wand whipped through the air, and the pressure in the chamber spiked. The air compressed, twisting into a hammer of pure force that slammed upward.
"Up you go." The invisible blow struck the Basilisk squarely under the jaw, launching the massive creature skyward like a rag doll.
The serpent crashed through the ceiling with a deafening 'BOOM', leaving a gaping hole above. Lucifer caught Harry by the arm and shot upward through the gap in a streak of light, emerging into a shadowed corridor lined with stone.
"Basement level," he muttered, scanning the area. "East side of the castle." Then he dropped Harry unceremoniously to the floor, "Go up that staircase to your right, then keep running straight until you reach the Potions classroom... You know the rest of the way. Find a professor."
Harry blinked as Ginny was deposited next, "What about you?"
"I'll lead the Basilisk out of the castle," Lucifer said simply, "Can't let it wreck Hogwarts. It's master is gone, and now simply a bloodthirsty overly grown reptile..."
Already, the tremors beneath their feet grew louder, the serpent was climbing. Lucifer thrust out a hand, and a blast of energy hurled Harry down the corridor.
"Go! And tell Greengrass sisters, and a petrified Hermione that if I get eaten, they owe you a Dementor's kiss."
Harry gaped at him, then groaned, "Just, just don't die, Lucifer!" and sprinted off, heart pounding.
"Fawkes, take the girl to Dumbledore's office for any possible curses."
The Phoenix cried, and took the human girl named Ginerva Weasely into his claws, and flew away at thunderous speed, letting out with a echoing roar! Madam Pomfrey could only treat so much.
Lucifer exhaled, watching Harry disappear around the corner, started a bit when Fawkes made loud noise, "Finally," he muttered with a smirk. "Got the protagonist out of the way."
If Harry's "hero moment" triggered again, he'd probably charge in and ruin everything. He turned, smirking at the shadow moving through the rubble, "Come on then, sweetheart," he said, raising his wand. "Let's dance."
A volley of curses, elegant, merciless, and laced with mockery, streaked toward the Serpent's head, each explosion taunting it further.
Hissing furiously, the Basilisk lunged after him as Lucifer shot toward the open grounds beyond the castle.
This one was going to be fun. He wasn't just hunting the Basilisk tonight, he wanted one more kill with this strike. He'd walk away holding the Merlin Medal.
Tonight, Hogwarts was his battleground. He would show everyone exactly how Lucifer Morningstar, the most gifted wizard of his generation, saved the school single-handedly.
He'd make sure they all owed him for it. A thunderous 'BOOM!' split the air.
Chunks of stone and smoke burst outward as Lucifer shot out from the castle like a streak of lightning.
The Basilisk slithered close behind, roaring its fury, a grotesque, guttural shriek that rattled the earth. Its head, once crowned with only two swollen lumps, now bulged with a dozen pulsing welts, like tumors of rage.
Lucifer could understand every hiss and snarl, and it was so ridiculous he almost laughed mid-flight. For all their ancient menace, snakes weren't exactly eloquent. Their insults were simple, childish things: "Bad! Worm! Stop! Hate!"
Coming from a hundred-foot serpent, it sounded absurdly like an enraged toddler throwing a tantrum. Except this tantrum came with fountains of venom and gouged earth, proof that the monster wanted nothing more than to crush him into paste.
"Alright," Lucifer murmured, eyes flashing. "That's far enough."
He darted across the night sky, drawing the Basilisk out to the vast, moon-drenched lawn. Then, he whistled sharply. A roar like tearing thunder answered. From deep within the bounds of hell, a massive shadow rose in the 'Forbidden Forest,' wings spread wide, eyes gleaming like molten gold.
Usagi, the dragon.
The dragon's cry rolled across the castle like a stormfront, shaking trees, shattering silence.
Its dragon's might radiated through the air, heavy and absolute. The entire Forbidden Forest erupted into chaos, creatures fled, shrieking, as lightning forked through the clouds.
Even in the distant towers, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students heard it clearly. So did the dungeons of Slytherin and Hufflepuff.
At this hour, no one was asleep anymore, "What was that sound?!"
"Merlin's beard, look! Something huge on the lawn!"
"Someone's fighting it! It's, it's coming out of the Forbidden Forest!"
"Quick, where's the brass telescope?!"
A Gryffindor finally pressed his eye to the lens. For a heartbeat, lightning illuminated the grounds below. His jaw dropped, "It's a snake! A giant snake, bigger than a train!"
Another flash of lightning ripped across the clouds, throwing the scene into sharp relief.
"It's MORNINGSTAR! Lucifer Morningstar's fighting it!"
The words exploded through the common rooms like a spell. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stormed out of their dormitories, pelting down staircases to see for themselves.
In the Slytherin common room, Daphne Greengrass froze, she recognized the dragon's roar instantly, "That's Usagi!" she shouted, grabbing her wand. "'Come on, outside!"
Even the typically unbothered Hufflepuffs stirred, though only a handful were brave (or foolish) enough to peek out. The rest decided that, compared to possible death by serpent, staying under their blankets was the smarter choice.
Meanwhile, Harry had finally found Professor McGonagall, panting and pale, having sprinted up five flights of stairs when Snape was nowhere to be found.
When he told her there was a Basilisk in the castle, she nearly fainted. Then she slapped herself hard enough to sting, "Pull yourself together, Minerva! Move!" She whirled on her heel. "We must go help Morningstar!"
Outside, lightning poured from the heavens like liquid silver, crashing down upon the Basilisk's scales. The thunder was deafening, but the damage was pitiful. The creature's skin, thick as steel and centuries-tempered, made dragon hide look like parchment.
Even so, arcs of current crackled under its scales, making its movements jerk and falter. Lucifer hovered in the storm, eyes sharp, wand raised, "Diffindo Maxima!"
Ten cutting curses streaked through the rain, followed by several Eye-Bane spells for good measure. The serpent's already gouged pupils, damaged and unprotected by Fawke's beaks, didn't stand a chance. Both burst in twin showers of black blood, he had done just in case, if there were lingering effects, cause he, and Harry Potter were just built different from rest of Wizards' and Witches here.
They did not have Hero's plot power, so to speak.
"Incendio Maxima!"
A ring of flame exploded outward, blazing into a massive circle that fenced the dueling pair inside. The 'fire' danced high, throwing light into the dark sky, his own private spotlight, "Much better," Lucifer murmured. "Every hero needs good lighting."
By now, the first wave of students had reached the courtyard, only to find Usagi looming before the gates, wings spread wide, glowing faintly in the storm.
"Don't go out there!"
Professor McGonagall's voice cracked as she sprinted forward, breathless but resolute, "It's too dangerous! Everyone stay inside! Prefects, hold the line!"
She flicked her wand. The enchanted armor suits that lined the hallways stirred to life, marching heavily to the entrance and locking into position to block the doors.
"'Maintain order!" she barked.
Snape, however, had already pushed past her. His face was stormier than the sky itself, "Out of the way," he hissed to the dragon. "'Your master is still fighting, we're here to save him!"
Usagi's only reply was a low growl. Energy gathered at its maw, a blinding sphere, humming with the sound of destruction.
"Professor!" Daphne shouted over the chaos. "Usagi must be following Lucifer's orders! He doesn't want interference!"
"Nonsense!" McGonagall snapped, eyes blazing. "That's a Basilisk! A creature with the Death-Gaze, classified Level-5X! Lucifer Morningstar cannot handle it alone!"
Harry piped up timidly, "Um, Professor? He's got a spell that lets him avoid the gaze thing. And, Fawkes damaged it quite a bit."
"That doesn't protect him from its fangs!" McGonagall shot back. "Or the venom! Or, 'good heavens, its body!"
She turned to Daphne again, desperate. "Can't you command the dragon?"
The girl shook her head. "Sorry, Professor. She only listens to her father...."
Before McGonagall could argue further, a clear, ringing voice carried over the roaring fire and thunder from the lawn.
"Piertotum Locomotor!"
The castle itself answered.
Dozens of suits of armor and stone statues came to life, their eyes glowing blue. They turned, one by one, and began to march toward the grounds. Far above, at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, the stone gargoyle that guarded the door opened its eyes for the first time in years.
"Well, would you look at that," it rumbled. "Someone finally used the spell again. And it's that Morningstar boy!"
The gargoyle stretched its stone wings, cracking its joints with relish.
"Time to show him what Hogwarts' strongest defender can really do!"
With a grin carved in granite, it leapt from its pedestal, smashing through the office window and plummeting toward the battle below. It landed with a deafening crash, carving a crater into the wet grass, completely unscathed.
"Woo-hoo!" the gargoyle bellowed gleefully, cracking its knuckles. "'Morningstar, my boy, the cavalry's here!"
Before hundreds of awestruck students, the castle itself seemed to come alive. Statues and armored golems, hundreds of them, marched in perfect unison from Hogwarts' gates, their footsteps like rolling thunder across the lawns.
The Basilisk, its eyes now blinded and bleeding, had gone truly berserk. Yet even in madness, the cold-blooded logic of a top-tier predator lingered within it. The result was... horrifyingly strange.
One moment it thrashed wildly, biting and tearing everything within reach in sheer fury and agony, The next, it would go eerily still, pressing its immense body flat against the earth, listening... sniffing... hunting by sound and scent alone.
The ring of flames encircling the battleground shimmered with blistering heat, but it did little to deter the ancient serpent. To a creature that had endured centuries beneath the earth, ordinary fire was merely an inconvenience.
Lucifer, however, was utterly unhurried. He deflected every sudden strike from the Basilisk with precise flicks of his wand, eyes calm, waiting for his reinforcements to arrive.
This was his plan all along. He'd read about the 'Piertotum Locomotor' spell in Professor Dumbledore's books, one of Hogwarts' "last resort" defenses, meant to be wielded only by the official and acting Headmasters.
So technically speaking... he'd just stolen the thunder from both Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Not bad, Lucifer. Not bad at all.
As another blast of magic cracked across the lawn and sent the Basilisk's head slamming against the ground, Lucifer found himself smirking at the thought. Meanwhile, McGonagall, still coordinating from the courtyard, watched the animated army march past her with tears of envy practically leaking from the corners of her mouth.
She had always wanted to try that spell. When she'd been running toward the scene earlier, she had even considered using it herself, just to feel that glorious rush.
And then Morningstar of all people had beaten her to it. Still, glory and pride at least would go to Gryffindor. Now all she could do was order the professors to guard the students and try not to grind her teeth to dust.
Still, she knew Lucifer well enough to trust his instincts. He wasn't a reckless Gryffindor like her other cubs, if he dared to stand before a Basilisk, he must've had a plan.
But Merlin help him, she would have a word with that boy when this was over. Up on the towers and balconies, students had gathered to watch the battle unfold below.
....Iris Stellamaris, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones were among the first to arrive. The moment the later two realized it was Lucifer Morningstar down there facing the monster alone, their hearts tightened with dread.
Luna, Daphne, and Astoria, however, remained calm, almost eerily so. They already knew he had been planning this duel for weeks. They knew he'd explained his red eyes, counter against the Basilisk's death gaze.
So while others panicked, they simply watched, confident that Serpent would not be the one to triumph tonight.
'BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!'
Through the flames came the vanguard of the stone host. Golems and statues surged forward, brandishing massive blades and fists, engaging the Basilisk in brutal, thunderous combat. Lucifer raised his wand like a conductor before an orchestra, his voice crisp and sure.
"Protego Maxima!"
"Accelerato!"
"Featherweight!"
"Gravitas!"
"Reparo!"
Spells flew like commands in a symphony. Each incantation struck the battlefield like a drumbeat, strengthening some, lightening others, repairing what was broken.
It was chaos, but perfectly controlled chaos. For a moment, he almost felt like he was playing Warcraft at 'Planet Krypton' again, micro-managing units, buffing and healing, striking at the perfect intervals. The defensive statues hardened from stone to steel, their bodies gleaming in the firelight.
The Basilisk's colossal tail crashed into them, splintering the earth, but the statues only fell, then repaired themselves in seconds under Lucifer's steady "healing" charms.
From the towers, the watching students erupted into cheers. It was glorious.
No, more than that. It was art. Lucifer stood calmly in the heart of the inferno, commanding legions with effortless precision.
Every flick of his wand, every whispered incantation, worked together like the gears of an intricate clockwork engine. It was so beautiful it gave the illusion that anyone could do it. And yet everyone watching knew that was a lie.
Casting that many spells at once, coordinating dozens of enchanted beings, predicting the Basilisk's movements, it was something only a mind like Morningstar's could manage. Then came a booming, gleeful voice:
"Woo-hoo! Morningstar, my boy, I'm here!" The stone gargoyle, the one that was made to guard Headmaster's office, came bounding across the field.
It leapt clean over the two-meter fire wall and slammed a granite fist straight into the Basilisk's head.
'THUD!'
Even Lucifer winced. The sound reverberated through his bones. The Serpent's body went limp for a moment, crashing back into the dirt with a shuddering thump.
"Not the head!" He shouted, grimacing. "If you hit the head again, I swear I'll enchant you with a dung bomb spa treatment!"
"Oi! I'm helping you!" the gargoyle protested, turning indignantly.
"Not like that you aren't! I can't play if you kill the boss too fast!"
"Oh." The gargoyle paused, genuinely thinking about it. He had just gotten out for the first time in decades, ending fun too early would be such a waste.
"You've got a point. I'll go easy." The gargoyle nodded seriously. "You Slytherins really do think of everything, don't you?"
Lucifer's face darkened. Great. He tried to help, and now he was being insulted for it. Fine. The dung bomb spa was definitely happening later.
While the two bickered, the Basilisk had already recovered, thrashing violently again. It flung itself against the statues, sending several flying into the night sky. The gargoyle roared, charging back with a flurry of granite punches, each blow like a collapsing wall.
The Serpent screamed, its tail whipping wildly, but the animated defenders held the line. Even Lucifer had to admit, he hadn't expected the gargoyle to be this strong.
Apparently, the creature hadn't been bluffing all those years guarding the door; it really was a walking fortress. Still, he wasn't about to let that stone brute steal his glory.
The Basilisk was clearly on its last breath, hissing weakly as its massive coils twitched across the shattered ground. With a flick of his wand, Lucifer ordered a few suits of armor to carry the protesting gargoyle off the field.
"Oi, Morningstar, lad! I'm not done smashing yet!" the gargoyle bellowed indignantly, struggling against the enchanted armor.
"Next time," Lucifer said without looking up, his tone was utterly perfunctory, "I promise you can smash to your heart's content next time." The Basilisk re-emerged and hissed, it started to come right towards Lucifer, forcing itself to plunge at this piece of meat who hurt it so badly.
The Snake lunged at him, mouth wide open. Then Lucifer stepped forward, lifting his wand high.
'Crack, crack, crack!'
The hundreds of animated statues and armored golems halted as one. Whatever weapons they had once held, swords, maces, halberds, shifted and merged, reshaping into gleaming spears. With a synchronized thrust, they drove those weapons upward.
The sound was like thunder splitting the air. The spears pierced through the Basilisk's armor-like scales, through 'flesh and bone', lifting the enormous serpent, nearly fifty meters long, into the air like a monstrous skewer. Its great tail lashed once, twice... and then 'fell limp.'
It was over. From Lucifer's back, a darkening obsidian black radiance flared, like some kind of Obscural towering phantom rising behind him, a blurred silhouette of a warrior, "Gryffindor sword" in hand.
Lucifer flew downwards to close the distance between the two, and brought the sword around in an arc swing. It sliced through the snake like a hot knife through butter.
Lucifer's voice rang out, low and resonant: "Sever! Kagura Hinokami!"
The Gryffindor''s sword fell.
Every witness, students, professors, ghosts, watched in stunned silence as the gleaming blade cleaved through the air. The Basilisk's massive head separated cleanly from its body.
A torrent of blood erupted from the wound like a crimson geyser, staining the stones beneath it. For one perfect heartbeat, there was silence.
It pierced through the roof of its mouth and out the top a little before it cleaved through throat of the Basilisk, and down into its lower mandible. Blood sprayed all over Lucifer, even spitting some out of his mouth.
Then, an explosion of cheers that shook the castle walls.
"He did it! Morningstar won!"
"He really killed the Basilisk! Merlin's beard, that's a 5X-class magical creature! Just looking at it could kill a person!"
"What was that final spell? That was insane! I want to learn that!"
"Forget being a wizard, I'm becoming a Swordmaster!"
For that moment, there were no Houses, no rivalries, no grudges.
Every student, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin alike, was on their feet, roaring Lucifer's name. It was as if a living legend had just unfolded before their eyes. The hero had slain the dragon. The myth had become real. And no one felt that pride more fiercely than the Slytherins, even Gryffindor's came after them.
Zabini, Nott, Weasely Twins, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and the others, their eyes wide with awe, stared at the boy standing on the corpse of the great serpent, bathed in divine light.
Then, losing all restraint, they exploded into wild celebration, setting off enchanted fireworks inside the castle and shouting at the top of their lungs, "Do you see it now?! Lucifer Morningstar is the one true sun of Hogwarts!"
Even if Voldemort himself were to return from the dead, they knew, every single one of them, that they would stand beside him, not out of loyalty, but because they believed in his power.
"Morningstar!"
The fiery circle surrounding the battlefield dimmed, its purpose complete. The creature that had maintained it, a blazing phoenix-like construct, soared back toward the 'Forbidden Forest' where a magical portal opened under Lucifer's command.
With the Basilisk confirmed dead, the barrier spell lifted, and the professors finally rushed onto the scene. At the front was Professor McGonagall, her face caught between a proud smile and a trembling fury.
"Mr. Morningstar!" she snapped, her voice rising despite the grin she was clearly fighting to suppress. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? That was a Basilisk, a 'thousand-year-old' Serpent King! How dare you face it alone?!"
"Professor..." Lucifer shrank back slightly, feigning guilt, "I wasn't completely alone. Look," he gestured at the still-marching statues, "I had a few hundred friends, and luckiest boy alive.... Harry Potter."
McGonagall sputtered, half furious, half envious. "But I wanted to use Piertotum Locomotor!" She froze immediately, realizing what she'd just blurted out in front of everyone.
The awkward silence that followed could've swallowed a Hippogriff. She cleared her throat hastily, straightening her robe, "What I meant to say is, I am more practiced with that spell. As a professor, I cannot allow a student to take such dangerous risks!"
From behind her came Snape's unmistakably oily chuckle.
"Well, well... who would've thought? Morningstar, making the same impulsive choices as his Gryffindor housemates. Perhaps Sorting Hat wasn't wrong.... If it were Potter doing 'something this brainless, I wouldn't be surprised, but you..." He smirked, "No wonder it yelled Gryffindor three times..."
Hidden behind a group of students, Harry's face went utterly blank. In his mind, he cast the 'Cruciatus Curse' on Snape a hundred times in rapid succession. Lucifer merely rolled his eyes, ignoring the bat-like man entirely.
He turned back to McGonagall, his voice sincere, "Professor, it wasn't about being a hero. I just wanted to protect everyone else. If all the professors had gone to fight the Basilisk, then who would've kept the younger students safe? They didn't have the counter-charm to resist its gaze."
McGonagall paused, eyes softening.
Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick exchanged approving looks, nodding silently.
Finally, McGonagall sighed and placed a hand over her chest. "I understand your intentions, Mr. Morningstar. Truly, I do. But you must remember, you are still one of the students we are sworn to protect. Promise me you will not put yourself in danger again. Understood?"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Lucifer said quickly, nodding like an obedient child.
Snape's eyes rolled so hard they nearly left his skull. 'This brat, needing protection? The day Hogwarts found someone capable of protecting him would be the day Hagrid started teaching Potions.'
He was just opening his mouth to deliver another snide remark when Lucifer casually added, "Oh, right, Professor. About the Basilisk, its hide and venom, they're mine, aren't they?"
McGonagall blinked, caught off guard. "Of course. It's your trophy, your victory. The school wouldn't dream of taking what you've rightfully earned."
Snape froze. What?! He wanted to shout no! To claim it for the Potions department! Did McGonagall have any idea how much Basilisk venom and hide were worth?! He could already see the galleons slipping through his fingers. 'McGonagall, you ruinous woman!' he thought, clutching his chest in silent agony.
'Do you realize how much money, no, how many priceless materials, you've just given away?! In the absence of Dumbledore!'
And beside them, Lucifer, calm, composed, and faintly smiling, pretended not to notice the Potions Master dying inside. The battle was over. The Serpent was dead, his revenge was taken.
And Hogwarts' "sun" burned brighter than ever.
No potion master alive could resist the allure of rare materials, and nothing screamed rare like the remains of a 5X-class magical creature. A Basilisk.
They couldn't be bred or farmed. They couldn't even reproduce normally. Each one had to be crafted, painstakingly raised by a Dark wizard from a cursed rooster's egg.
Even Gellert Grindelwald, in all his brilliance, had nearly gone mad cultivating twenty Basilisk eggs.
And then Newt Scamander, the saint of magizoologists, had destroyed every last one.
No wonder Grindelwald had wanted to hex him into next week. Snape, of course, had read every ancient record he could find on Basilisks, recipes for potions infused with their flesh, their blood, even their scales.
He'd dreamed for years of experimenting with such ingredients, and now one of the greatest sources of magical alchemy in the world lay sprawled dead before him.
His dark eyes gleamed red with desire. And then, McGonagall had the nerve to give it all away with a single sentence. Just... handed it to Morningstar!
Snape's lips parted to object, but Lucifer moved faster, much faster. Before anyone could stop him, he waved his wand, and the colossal serpent's remains vanished, sealed neatly into his enchanted storage.
Even the blood pooling across the grass didn't escape his notice. He drew his wand once more, murmured a charm, and the silvery, viscous blood lifted from the ground in streams, gathering into a hovering orb before solidifying into a glass vial.
Not a drop wasted.
"Morningstar, lad," came a deep, rumbling voice behind him. The gargoyle, Hogwarts' ancient stone sentinel, landed beside him with a thud that shook the earth. Its granite wings folded proudly against its back.
"I'll be heading back now," it said, puffing out its chest. "But next time you've got something this fun, don't you dare forget me! Whoever your enemy is, I'll smash them to rubble for you!"
Lucifer almost laughed. Honestly, he was tempted. The creature was nearly indestructible, resistant to both physical and magical attacks. A perfect tank, if he ever needed one.
So he asked with a grin, "What if I meet enemies outside the school?"
The gargoyle froze, mid-boast.
"Outside the school? Why would you be outside?"
"It's called summer break," Lucifer deadpanned. "I can't live here forever, can I? I have things to do." He paused, arching a brow, "Speaking of which, you've been on duty for decades. Don't you ever get a holiday? How about you come with me next time? The world's huge. I'll take you outside to see it."
"The world's... huge... take me to see it..." The gargoyle's stony expression softened. It blinked, almost dreamily. No one had ever said such words to it before.
"Ahem." McGonagall cleared her throat sharply, snapping the creature (and herself) out of it. If Morningstar kept talking, she was certain Hogwarts would lose its gatekeeper tonight. She turned toward the cluster of wide-eyed students still loitering at the courtyard's edge.
"Prefects!" she barked
"Lead all students back to your dormitories immediately! No one is to remain in the castle corridors. If evenone student is missing, the prefect responsible will write a five-thousand-word report! And if I catch anyone wandering about, detention for a month!"
Her tone brooked no argument. Grumbling, the students began to disperse, though most dragged their feet, their curiosity burning.
Even the prefects looked reluctant to leave, they wanted to know what had really happened tonight. Where had that Basilisk come from? The Chamber of Secrets'?
Who had unleashed it? And why had something that dangerous been hiding beneath their school all along?
McGonagall turned to her colleagues.
"Filius, Pomona, Severus, thank you. I'll need you to patrol the castle tonight. Once I've gathered the full account, I'll join you."
All three nodded at once.
Then her sharp eyes turned to Lucifer, And you, Mr----"
"Harry!" Lucifer suddenly called, catching the boy just before he slipped into the dispersing crowd. He turned back to McGonagall, his expression composed, "Professor, Harry and I need to visit that place again. You'll want to see it too, it'll explain everything faster if we talk on the way."
McGonagall hesitated, but the logic was sound. Harry had already mentioned the 'Chamber of Secrets', and now that Morningstar was offering to show her directly,
"...Very well," she agreed.
As the trio began to leave, the gargoyle was still standing where they'd left it, lost in thought, its massive stone brow furrowed.
McGonagall sighed, half exasperated, half amused, "You should return as well, good sir. The Headmaster's office still needs its guardian. We can't have the entrance left open, it wouldn't do for appearances."
The ancient statue blinked, then straightened, flustered.
"Ah? Oh, right, right. Of course."
It turned back to Lucifer, its heavy jaw creaking into what might've been a grin, "Morningstar, lad! Next time you come by, we'll have a proper chat! I'll hold you to that!"
And with a mighty thud, it leapt away, each jump leaving a crater in the ground large enough to swallow a Hufflepuff.
Harry watched nervously, wincing at every impact. At this rate, he thought, the castle's staircases might not survive till morning. Then he looked down at himself, at the hospital robe still hanging loosely around his shoulders.
...Right. Even if the stairs did survive, he wasn't going back to his dorm tonight anyway.
"Oh, and please have Ginny looked after. I sent her in Headmaster's office, many curses effects lower their spread inside..."
"Yes, Mr. Potter has already informed me. Poppy is tending her there."
And, to give McGonagall the clearest understanding of the situation, Lucifer led her straight to the second-floor girls' bathroom.
....Harry politely asked Moaning Myrtle to leave, since Lucifer had gotten angry with her, and the ghost floated off in a huff.
While Lucifer turned to the sink, hissed a few sibilant syllables in Parseltongue, and the stone shifted open. He was informed by Harry Potter himself just now as he talked to the peeping ghost, so had to try it.
McGonagall's eyes widened. "Mr. Morningstar... you can speak 'Parseltongue' as well?"
Lucifer smiled faintly. "Professor, I learned it later in life, by study. Not like Harry here, who's a 'natural-born Parselmouth... a true dark wizard in the making."
Harry gave him a flat look.
McGonagall just sighed. And together, the three of them descended into the depths below Hogwarts once more.
"Actually," Harry muttered, rubbing his nose, "you didn't have to make that so... clear."
Professor McGonagall frowned in disapproval, "Speaking Parseltongue doesn't automatically make someone a dark wizard. It's just that, statistically speaking, most Parselmouths happen to be. But you mustn't let that cloud your judgment about your classmates, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded so fast his glasses nearly slipped off. "Of course, Professor! I'd never become a dark wizard!"
"I believe you, Potter," McGonagall said with utter conviction.
Honestly, with that temperament and that level of chaos? She could hardly imagine Harry managing the kind of long-term scheming dark wizards were known for.
Harry didn't know what she was thinking, but her tone made him feel oddly pleased. With a flick of his hand, Lucifer took hold of both of them and guided them straight down the pipe.
When McGonagall realized he was using flight magic, true, wandless flight, her jaw nearly dropped. Aside from Voldemort, she'd never known another wizard capable of it.
They landed with a soft thud deep underground. Lucifer's expression shifted, growing serious as he began recounting everything that had happened: the diary, its origins, and the series of events that led to this moment.
He was careful, though. He omitted certain... colorful details, like how he'd tortured Voldemort's fragment, or some of his more "affectionate" remarks toward the Dark Lord.
Instead, he told the story with elegant precision, each word measured, each pause dramatic. By the time he finished, McGonagall's face was flushed with outrage.
"Albus!" she burst out, "How could he possibly not know such a dangerous object was smuggled into Hogwarts?! He must have had an inkling. Do you know what that diary was found to be? 'You-Know-Who!' Even a fifth-year Voldemort is far beyond a child's level! He should have inspected more carefully using the Castle itself. How could Dumbledore be so, so ignorant!"
Lucifer raised a hand modestly. "It's all right, Professor. Even I didn't figure out most of it. And, was willing to take the risk for school's sake. In the end, it turned out well, Harry made Voldemort's fragment gone, the Basilisk is dead, and no one was seriously hurt. That's more than enough for me...."
McGonagall sighed deeply. "It's our failure, not yours." It was supposed to be the professors protecting the students, ensuring a safe learning environment. Yet for two years now, it had been Morningstar solving the problems, Quirrell in first year, that fraud Lockhart who-----
"Bloody hell, Ron and Lockhart are still down there! They'd come with me to the Chamber but held by the rubbl-----"
"Mr. Potter!!"
"It was to prevent him from using a Memory Charm onus and fleeing Hogwarts....R-Ron brought him as poetic justice so the fraudulent celebrity would 'finally' face the real monsters he claimed to have defeated!"
Honestly, she thought it couldn't get worse, Lucifer Morningstar had been doing a better job as Headmaster than most of them combined. Gilderoy had tried to escape?!
Hic! The echoing sound broke the tension. In the confined chamber, Harry's hiccup rang louder than expected. He wrinkled his nose, "Why does it suddenly smell like tea down he----
Ron and Lockhart were unconsciously
on the ground surrounded by rocks,
Harry suddenly went to his best mater, he really had forgotten about these two cause of all the chaos happened.
"Ron!" He scrambled to the side, picking the Weasely boy up like a lost treasure.
...
Fawkes had come again.
...
They finally stepped into the true heart of the Chamber of Secrets.
Meanwhile, Lucifer led McGonagall beneath the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin himself. At its base, where the ancient wizard's hand extended forward, yawned a dark, circular opening.
"Slytherin's legacy lies inside," he said quietly.
"Don't rush in." McGonagall swept out her arm, halting him. With a flick of her wand, the broken stones on the 'floor' transfigured into a handful of small creatures, mice, lizards, a rabbit or two, that scurried into the darkness.
Moments later, a faint green glow flickered within the tunnel. Then she cast several detection charms in quick succession. When none of them triggered, she finally nodded. "It's safe. We can proceed."
Even McGonagall, strict and stoic as she was, couldn't hide the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. The thought of uncovering one of the Founders' true legacies, it was enough to make any scholar's heart quicken.
She led the way in, her wandlight illuminating the rough-hewn walls.
Lucifer and Harry followed closely behind, the air growing colder with each step. After only a short walk, they emerged into a wide stone chamber. Every wall, including the entrance behind them, was carved with countless, squirming glyphs that shimmered faintly like living things.
McGonagall immediately began analyzing the markings, tracing her wand along one of the symbols.
Lucifer, meanwhile, moved faster, his eyes scanning, decoding, connecting invisible lines of ancient power. Within minutes, he'd found 'four faint' magical nodes embedded in the walls.
He tapped each one lightly, and the crawling runes began to whirl, linking and rearranging themselves in a dazzling, kaleidoscopic pattern. It took nearly five minutes for the symbols to settle again.
When they did, the once-opaque writing revealed lines of text that shimmered like emerald flame.
McGonagall and Lucifer leaned forward to read. Harry, on the other hand, stood there completely lost, staring at the glowing runes as if they were moving worms.
Noticing his baffled face, she took the opportunity to lecture.
"Mr. Potter," she said, "Slytherin lived a thousand years ago, long before English even existed. All the great wizards and scholars of that era used Classical Latin for their spells and inscriptions."
She gave him a pointed look. "If you ever wish to advance further in magical theory, you'll need to master Latin as well. Understood?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry said awkwardly, cheeks pink. Once again, he felt like the class dunce.
Lucifer was effortlessly reading thousand-year-old magic, and he could barely tell one rune from another. For a moment, he even remembered what Draco Malfoy had said at the start of term, about how some people were just born for greatness.
To his own surprise, Harry found himself thinking that maybe, for once, Malfoy hadn't been entirely wrong.
As he stood lost in thought, McGonagall and Lucifer's expressions began to darken. The further they read, the tighter their brows furrowed.
She glanced at the mere boy, hesitating. For a moment, she almost told him to stop reading. But in the end, she said nothing.
Whatever was written here, whatever Slytherin had left behind, they both needed to know. And so, in the dim green light of the chamber, they read on.
Voldemort's plan had been simple, an open conspiracy, a scheme meant to divide and sow doubt. And because it relied on credibility, every word he had left behind was true.
This chamber truly was the heart of Slytherin's legacy. The first section of the writing detailed the infamous quarrel between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, complete with long-winded rants in which Slytherin called his former friend a pompous fool, an obstinate braggart, and a thick-headed lion.
And then came something far more chilling. Slytherin had described two ways the Chamber could be opened.
The first was what Harry Potter and Lucifer had already accomplished, finding the hidden entrance and opening it through Parseltongue.
The second, however... involved blood, "When the castle has been soaked in enough blood," the text read, "the Chamber shall open on its own. The guardian shall awaken. And the Purification shall begin."
No wonder the Basilisk had been called a "protector" of Hogwarts, it really was. Unfortunately, it had been manipulated by Voldemort. The poor creature had burned its last bit of life serving everyone but itself.
Lucifer sighed inwardly, 'Next year on thisday', he thought, 'I'll light a candle, or a cigarette, for you, old friend.'
He would ask Aoyuki to see if she could produce newborns out of it. But that melancholy humor soon faded as the true weight of Slytherin's writing sank in.
Because what followed... wasn't a history lesson. It was a manifesto.
During the founding of Hogwarts, the tension between Muggles and wizards had been unbearable. Slytherin, ever the pessimist, had foreseen the day when Hogwarts would be discovered, when Muggles would rise up and wipe magic from the world.
So, he left behind a contingency plan.
A blueprint for survival when wizardkind faced extinction.
Slytherin had always preached the importance of blood purity, and his so-called "legacy" was meant to help his successors improve their own magical bloodlines, to reshape the wizarding race into something stronger, 'purer... less human.'
But what Lucifer and Professor McGonagall found here wasn't a teaching. It was a collection of experimental records, grisly, obsessive, methodical.
Slytherin's core theory described the human magical bloodline as "a blank canvas." Some families, he wrote, already possessed color, traces of old, ancient power born of "bold ancestors with exotic appetites."
For those who lacked such "color," Slytherin proposed an alternative: fusion. To "paint the blank canvas" with the blood of magical creatures.
The entries divided his research into three distinct fields:
> Blood Purification, Extracting and refining the blood of magical creatures to remove harmful or unstable elements, creating a clean essence that human hosts could safely absorb.
> Physical Adaptation, Strengthening the wizard's body to better withstand and assimilate the foreign magical essence.
> Soul Anchoring, Preventing the transformation from consuming the wizard's soul, since every bloodline carried with it the wild instincts of the creature it came from.
Slytherin's goal wasn't to turn wizards into beasts, it was to create a perfect hybrid: a wizard with the blood of magical creatures, uniting power and control in a single being. But as the later records revealed, every experiment failed.
The more bloodlines combined, the more unstable the results. Each subject, each wizard, succumbed to madness, mutation, or death.