Dinner that night was awkward, to say the least. Ron had barely spoken since his emotional breakdown in common room, and Lucifer was too mentally drained from the day's physical and temporal strain to initiate any conversation.
Hermione, oblivious to real reasons behind the underlying bedroom drama, had found comfort by sitting exceptionally close to Lucifer at the Gryffindor table. She leaned her shoulder against his arm, much to Ron's obvious, burning irritation, which she didn't seem to notice at all.
Even worse for the school's morale, Professor Burbage from 'Muggle Studies' had been warned by the Ministry today, though Umbridge wisely didn't make a public scene about it in the Great Hall.
Angelina Johnson had accidentally run into Umbridge in the corridor while trying to ask if Fred and George could give training tips to the new Beaters. During that intercept, she had seen the High Inquisitor hand Charity Burbage a gold-sealed parchment notice. The Muggle Studies professor had looked instantly devastated, almost on the verge of tears.
Lucifer couldn't think of any other document from Umbridge's desk that would make an established professor react with such visceral horror except a probation notice.
He glanced up toward the staff table. Neither Professor Burbage nor Professor Vector were present for dinner; the Arithmancy professor had probably gone straight to the tower to comfort her colleague. Umbridge, however, sat right in the center of the faculty bench, happily cutting her thick steak, looking smugly, content with her day.
In sharp contrast, the other professors appeared visibly unsettled. Professor Flitwick, usually the most cheerful and chatty wizard in the room, was uncharacteristically silent, his fork idly tracing his plate. The entire atmosphere at the high table was unusually somber.
It was painfully clear to upper-years that no one believed this was going to be the end of the Ministry's purge.
Lucifer understood all too well that Charity Burbage was just the beginning, Umbridge's first real steps in systemically asserting her ultimate authority over the faculty. It was a highly calculated, precise move. Burbage was undeniably the "softest target" currently at Hogwarts: she lacked influential pure-blood connections in the Wizengamot, she taught a baseline subject that many conservative families didn't take seriously, and she wasn't particularly exceptional or legendary in her field.
There was simply no better way for Umbridge to display her new Educational Decrees than by making a public example of her.
She wouldn't stop there; he was certain her subsequent moves would target other unconventional professors and subjects. While she might not possess the direct power to outright dismiss established, universally respected figures like Professors McGonagall or Flitwick, she could still find ways to make their daily teaching lives miserable.
Professors with distinguished careers and stellar reputations, who had taught consecutive generations of witches and wizards, were practically untouchable when it came to a flat out dismissal. Any attempt to fire them on flimsy, manufactured charges would provoke an immediate outrage throughout Wizarding community.
Even Fudge wouldn't be able to shield Umbridge from that level of public backlash.
However, a direct dismissal wasn't strictly necessary to break a department. Constantly interfering with their daily teaching methods, undermining their classroom authority in front of students, and creating a hostile, audited work environment were all psychological tactics Umbridge could, and would, likely employ.
The core professors could, in theory, avoid such heavy harassment by lowering their personal standards and adopting a compliant, quiet attitude, much like Severus Snape's current strategy. If the faculty kept a tight grip on their unfiltered thoughts, limited daily responses to neutral politeness, and utilized hidden tactics like localized 'Memory Charms,' Umbridge wouldn't have much data to work with in her files.
But that timeline wasn't realistic. Someone with McGonagall's lion pride would never stoop to such deceptive measures, and without her cooperation, any collective staff strategy would collapse.
Lucifer let out a dry, internal chuckle as he sipped his pumpkin juice. 'It would have been a treat if Gellert Grindelwald were still here as the Muggle Studies professor,' he thought wickedly. He could perfectly visualize the legendary Dark wizard over the moon, watching Umbridge cower at the staff table while trying to dismiss him for teaching how Muggles already possessed advanced knowledge about wizards.
He would have loved to hear Gellert lecture the class on how wizards were being experimented on, dissected on metal tables in hidden Muggle labs in the past, right before Grindelwald tracked the culprits down and tortured them into insanity.
Regardless of the political shifting, after clambering back into common room and giving Hermione a gentle, lingering goodnight kiss on her cheek, Lucifer stumbled up the stone stairs toward his shared dormitory room with Harry and Ron.
The three boys pulled off their school robes and put on pyjamas in a dense, tension-filled silence; Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already sound asleep behind their velvet hangings.
Lucifer got into his four-poster bed, but he purposefully did not pull the silk curtains closed around his pillows. Instead, he lay on back, staring out at the patch of starry winter sky visible through the high glass window.
"Night," Ron grunted aggressively from somewhere deep in the dark to his right.
"Night," Harry responded softly, taking his round glasses off and putting them gently onto his bedside table.
"Goodnight," Lucifer whispered into the quiet room.
But when the magical lights went out completely, his dark eyes remained wide open, and his thoughts ran wild. 'So, Weasley finally confessed his feelings, huh? Next time we fight... if the timeline forces another confrontation, would things escalate more than just a punch to the jaw?' Lucifer lay awake in the dark, the Sentient Magic of the world instilling quiet thoughts of doubt in his head, reminding just how things could alter in this realm. 'Would Hermione eventually choose Weasley over us, when she finds out about the world's original design?'
For now, he forcefully pushed the anxious ideas into the back of his mind and forced eyes shut, drifting to sleep.
xxxxxx
Lucifer was sitting inside their private, warded quarters, calmly waiting for Hermione to show up. He had every arrangement ready for her arrival; their evening date was set to be flawless. He had gone down to the grand castle kitchens earlier that afternoon, specifically instructing the house-elves around five o'clock to fix a precise assortment of end foods and to have the trays ready by seven o'clock sharp.
They had happily, eagerly agreed to his terms.
He had the layout of the hidden room configured; the magical setting was a romantic, restaurant, stripped of other noisy people and boring obligation to dress up properly for the service.
When he had asked Hermione to join his table for dinner earlier that day, she had happily agreed. Naturally, she would have had to skip the standard Great Hall meal to be able to eat his arrangement, but she didn't seem like a girl who would complain about the privacy.
It was five minutes till seven, and he was brought sharply out of his stupor when Hermione walked into the room. She was looking as beautiful as she ever did in the firelight, her eyes scanning the layout in total, wide-eyed awe.
"Lucifer..." She spoke his name softly, and his soul loved the sound whenever her lips formed his name. "This is really amazing..."
"Not nearly as you look tonight, Hermione," Lucifer said rising from his chair to guide her forward. The compliment caused her cheeks to instantly blush a radiant pink.
"Such a romantic, aren't you?" she asked with a soft giggle as she slid into the seat across from his plate.
"Yeah, but only ever for you, pet," he smiled warmly, leaning forward. "Are you hungry?"
"I am starving since you forced me to skip the Great Hall dinner," Hermione tried her best to pout and glare across the candles, but the dramatic expression came off as adorable to his eyes.
"Then allow me to immediately remedy the situation," Lucifer said with a fluid wave of his wand. A magnificent spread of steaming food instantly appeared on the porcelain plates between them.
"Lucifer, this looks wonderful! I'll be sure to personally thank the house-elves later for their hard work in making this date look so spectacular."
"I'm just glad you don't hate my guts for getting Tipsy and Winky to fix this menu for us," Lucifer said, scratching his cheek bashfully.
"Well, like you always say, we have to work slowly to help them understand they deserve independent freedom, so I can't be mad at them for doing what they are genuinely happy to do," Hermione said, leaning over the rim to sniff the rich aroma of the food, her acute, cat-like habits pouring into her daily life ever since her second-year Polyjuice mishap. Over the recent terms, she had subtly started to like the taste of fish significantly more, and there were quite a few private times in their quarters where she had been given a clean bowl of warm milk on the floor to drink from, which she had happily lapped up right at his bare feet. "This scent is making me extra hungry."
"Then please, help yourself," he smiled, and the two of them began to eat the meal to their hearts' content.
After the heavy food had been eaten, Lucifer gave his hand a smooth wave, causing the scene to dissolve into the dark. It was instantly replaced with a beautiful, nighttime park setting, the stars shifting overhead. Anything past the boundary walls was blurred slightly, showing the perimeter as impassable.
Hermione looked around the grass, a soft smile on her lips. "You really know how to lay down foundation for a romantic scene, don't you, Mr. Morningstar?"
"Well... ever since I confirmed that I did, in fact, love you, Hermione, I've been working to be good at situations that suit your tastes. But that dry textbook approach failed, so I decided to just go about it naturally," Lucifer said, looking around the trees. "I don't think I did too badly tonight."
Hermione turned around to face him directly, her eyes warming into his with an intense devotion. "You did just right," she whispered.
She reached up, pulling his head down to kiss her lips, and the touch was everything he loved to feel when he held her close. But mid-kiss, a strange, muffled screaming began echoing from the far distance, which was incredibly weird, because their dream shouldn't have been able to let any outside noise permeate the barrier.
He stopped kissing her lips, brows furrowing as he scanned the blurred edges of the park, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He turned his face back down to look at Hermione, and his heart nearly stopped.
He fell backwards onto the grass in a sudden shock. The beautiful girl inside his arms had instantly transformed into his worst, most terrifying Boggart form. Her once-perfect skin had turned a sickly, decaying gray, peeling off in thick sheets with open, sores pouring yellow puss down her neck. Her wild bushy hair was falling out in bloody clumps, and her lips parted to reveal a row of rotten, black, and decayed teeth.
Before the horrific illusion could get a single molecule worse, Lucifer wrenched himself awake from the nightmare, chest heaving and sweat soaking his sheets, only to realize that the terrifying screaming wasn't an illusion at all.
It was coming from real life, right across the dormitory, and it was Harry Potter who was screaming in agony in his bed.
Harry had been on the floor when Professor McGonagall had marched cleanly into the dormitory, with a terrified Neville leading her by the sleeve.
Lucifer was still standing by his four-poster bed in a disoriented daze from his own horrific Boggart nightmare. Through the ringing in his ears, he caught fragmented words from Harry about attacking Arthur Weasley, about blood, and literally being a snake inside a dark corridor.
He would have normally, instantly dismissed such a wild claim as a severe psychiatric episode if it had been coming from anyone else, but it was Harry Potter after all, and the bizarre mechanics of the boy's life were never simple. Then, Lucifer heard McGonagall clearly cut through the panic when she addressed the trembling boy. "I believe your words, Potter," she had said curtly, her face unusually pale. "Put on your dressing gown immediately. We are going straight down to see the Headmaster."
Lucifer stood perfectly still in his tracks as Harry and Ron both threw on their cloaks and went out the door with McGonagall.
The second the oak latch clicked shut, Dean Thomas brought him up to speed on what Harry had said happened while he was waking up.
"So, Arthur Weasley was attacked?" Lucifer asked, though the prompt was rhetorical as he touched the details.
"That's what Harry said he saw---" Neville started to confirm dumbfounded, but Seamus sharply interrupted him with a sneer.
"Nutter, he is," Seamus snarled, pulling his covers up. "The boy's finally lost his mind."
"When your specific opinion is required, Finnigan, you will be notified," Lucifer said, his voice carrying a dangerous, mildly irritated edge that instantly made the air in the room turn cold, "Until that time comes, I advise you to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep."
Seamus didn't utter more in response, merely sneering crossly and rolling over to slam himself back into his bed. Lucifer let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair after realizing he was still standing there in nothing but underwear.
He got dressed in a jumper and trousers, clicking through the variables before went straight down the stairs into Common Room.
A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall came back through the portrait hole to gather Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley.
From his position by the hearth, Lucifer heard Ginny letting out a horrified scream from up the girls' staircase when she was told about her father's state. He didn't bother asking Head of House any questions as the red-headed siblings were hurried out of the tower, because his pragmatism knew none of his inquiries would yield concrete answers.
Hermione came running down the circular stairs a few minutes later, her eyes wide with total panic as she clutched her dressing gown tightly around her shoulders. "Lucifer, what just happened? I heard Professor McGonagall rushing through the staircase like a storm, and then Ginny let out that awful scream."
"Harry claimed that Arthur was attacked tonight, pet," Lucifer sighed, reaching out to steady her hands as he looked into her face. "But I've not really gotten much more than that from the boys."
"Attacked?" She asked, her features turning intensely perplexed as she processed the information. "But how could he have seen it happen from inside his bed?"
"Well... Harry stated last term that Voldemort possesses a snake, right?" Lucifer asked her, mind instantly flashing back to private conversation he had held with Gellert Grindelwald in a previous timeline. Back then, the dark wizard had traveled all the way to the dense forests of Albania just to capture that particular, unique serpent, who was actually a tragic 'Maledictus' who had lost her human mind over time.
"What if Harry saw it happen because of the erratic, mental link he seems to have secured with Voldemort's consciousness?"
"That's..." Hermione's voice trailed off into a tight whisper, her eyes widening as the piece of the puzzle locked into place. "I mean... you are very likely right about it, honestly. The scar must be acting as a receptor."
"I just can't understand 'why' he has this dense link in his soul..." Lucifer sighed in deep frustration, pacing the rug. "It surely wasn't a deliberate choice, because Voldemort was attempting to murder Harry when he was a baby... a wizard wouldn't intentionally give his mortal enemy a window into his thoughts."
"It is best to not put too much thought into something we don't have any answers for right now," Hermione advised softly, her hand sliding down his forearm to soothe his rigid posture.
"Yeah..." he muttered, but the mystery was going to continue bothering him. Another thing that was torturing it was the beautiful, romantic dream that had so turned into a sickening Boggart nightmare right before he woke up.
His own subconscious was punishing him with graphic images of her decaying, grey, puss-filled flesh, and it had happened immediately after such a joyous, exciting interlude. He couldn't understand the psychological trigger, nor could he ever dare to ask Hermione to help him get rid of the memory.
He didn't want her to ever discover the explicit nature of his current Boggart. Even after everything they had survived together, his girlfriend would feel immensely bad and internal blame onto herself for his Boggart being altered into her corpse.
Lucifer looked down at her face on his right, and his heart became heavy with a silent worry for her protection.
xxxxxxx
Author's Note
If you want to Read my Complete book, including 8th Year, Marriage and having kids, ahead of everyone.
Support this novel, join me on Patreon!
Link - patreon.com/SmutDxddy
We have a stockpile upto Chapter 1030 for you to binge-read! 😋
Playing Cards with Pregnant Hermione on a n*de beach, if you'd like to Read now! 🍼