Chapter 572: Ch 598 - Taking the World Down

She and Lucifer hurried down the wooden stairs to the field to check on the situation. Some time in between them navigating the staircase and making it out onto the turf, Harry and George had both charged forward across the grass, and they were currently pounding Malfoy straight into the dirt.

The three Gryffindors were functioning entirely beyond the realm of human reason, swinging their fists with fury that left Draco curled up in a ball.

Lucifer could only imagine what vile insults Draco had spoken about their mothers to cause them to snap like that. Near the lockers, Alicia and Katie were struggling to hold Fred back from joining the assault, but they managed to stop his arms.

"Impedimenta!" Lucifer heard Hooch yell as she sprinted over, pointing her wand sharply at Harry and George. The heavy hex hit them, freezing their limbs. "What do you think you are doing?!" she demanded, her voice cracking in a rage.

Lucifer tried to get closer to the center of the scrum, but every Gryffindor had come running down behind him, completely blocking his and Hermione’s immediate path.

Behind them, the Slytherins also rushed to Malfoy’s side. Draco was crumpled on the frosty ground, his mouth bloodied, shoe prints visible across his green robes, and his face swollen to almost twice its usual size.

Pansy Parkinson reached his side first, her shrill, high pitched screams filling the air as she scolded anyone nearby. Crabbe stood right behind her, snickering conspiratorially with Montague at the brutal scene. But despite Malfoy’s swollen, battered face and his limp posture, his eyes didn’t radiate anger after the beating he’d just endured.

Instead, he was smiling smugly, a look of pure triumph plastered across his bloody face. It was as if he were savoring the success of a carefully laid, malicious plan.

Up in the commentary stand, Lee Jordan had to be physically restrained by two teachers, Professor McGonagall, pale and furious had already stormed off the pitch toward the castle.

Lucifer vaguely heard Hooch say something about heading straight to the Head of House’s office, so he tried pushing his way through the thick crowd to make his way back up to the castle, but navigating the bodies was difficult. He didn’t just forcefully throw the students out of his way, though he wanted to, which resulted in him wasting a considerable amount of time trying to get up the hill.

Hermione was hot on his heels as he finally marched free of the crowd. He could hear the sharp sound of both of their footsteps echoing loudly as they walked through the stone corridor.

She was speaking rapidly, but his mind wasn’t registering a word she was saying.

They reached McGonagall’s office door just in time to hear Umbridge’s voice speaking inside. "So... I really think I will have to ban these two from ever playing Quidditch again."

Harry must have spoken quietly in defense, because Umbridge’s immediate response was to sharply shush his voice. "Oh, yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," she paused, her voice dripping with a sickening satisfaction. "You and Mr. Weasley here, and I think his twin brother to be safe... he was being held back by his teammates, so he was clearly ready to resort to extreme violence too. I want their broomsticks confiscated immediately, of cou---"

Lucifer pushed the heavy office door open, and Hermione followed him inside the room. "Does this lifelong ban apply to Vincent Crabbe as well?"

He asked the question, walking calmly and confidently into the center of the floorboards, eyes onto her face.

"Why would I ban young Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Morningstar?" Umbridge tried to play dumb, her fingers smoothing her pink cardigan as she adjusted her leather clipboard.

xxxxxx

"Well, as I recall seeing," Lucifer said, the words, he was technically about to lie based on his own physical perspective, Hermione had witnessed the sequence of events from her seat, meaning he had essentially seen it too, pulling the memory cleanly from her mind. "After Harry had grabbed the Snitch and whistle blew, he was violently hit right in the back with a Bludger... by Vincent Crabbe."

Umbridge stood there still, bulging eyes looking up at him analytically, but he took the immediate chance to talk again before she could formulate a defense. "I’m sure you are aware it is illegal to attack a player with a Bludger after a match has officially ended, Professor. And... Crabbe purposefully hitting the Bludger after Madam Hooch’s whistle had already called the final match end was a malicious, dangerous attack on the Gryffindor Seeker. So, should he not be hit with the same lifelong ban? Or, if you refuse to acknowledge that Crabbe deserves the punishment for his violence, then you realistically have no legal basis for banning Harry, Fred, or George."

Lucifer challenged her directly, towering over her short posture. He honestly didn’t care molecule what specific stance Umbridge took, well, that was a lie; knew she was incredibly buddy-buddy with the prominent Slytherin families, so forcefully banning Vincent Crabbe from the Quidditch tournament would tarnish her political relationship with them.

He was banking on her not wanting to ruin that domestic alliance. And if she tried to sidestep the legal logic and stubbornly continue with her original, biased ruling against Gryffindor, he would find a way to make her very, very sorry.

Her deep-seated contempt of Harry Potter, however, was something he had slightly underestimated. Her pasty face contorted with a venomous spike of spite. "Alright then, Mr. Morningstar," she hissed, her fingers gripping her clipboard so tightly the parchment wrinkled. "Potter, Weasley, Weasley... and ’Crabbe’ will all be banned lifelong from playing Quidditch at this school, and their broomsticks will be confiscated immediately."

Umbridge smiled sickeningly up at him, her wide mouth stretching into a triumphant, ugly mask.

Lucifer didn’t reveal to her that he was quietly surprised by the extreme ruling; he kept his stony, expression perfectly frozen on his face. "So... I’m guessing ’Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five’ was just officially introduced by the Ministry? Allowing you, and only you, to give out such harsh, executive punishments without the Board’s consent?"

"Why, yes, how did you know?" Umbridge preened, her face filling with a brief flash of confusion before she adjusted her velvet hat. "I just introduced the text to Professor McGonagall here."

"It’s the only answer to this overreach. I’m guessing it was passed because Professor McGonagall rightfully overrode your decision to deny Gryffindor the right to re-form their team, despite you letting Slytherin theirs immediately?" Lucifer asked, though he knew with finality he was right about it.

Umbridge said nothing in response. She sharply rolled up the parchment decree, tucked her clipboard under her short arm, and marched rigidly out of McGonagall’s office, tossing a sealed slip of paper onto the desk for him to pass on for the Weasleys as she did.

His Head of House stared at the door for a long beat before turning her stern, sharp eyes to look at him. "Mr. Morningstar... that was an incredibly impressive display of quick wit and political cunning..."

Beside him, Hermione was looking at her boyfriend, her amber eyes wide as a profound thought crossed her mind. ’He would have done well if the hat had put him in Slytherin... No, it should be honestly said that the house was made for him, the Great Serpent.’

"Thank you, Professor," Lucifer said flatly, his dark eyes watching the empty doorway where Umbridge had vanished a moment ago. He turned his face back to his Head of House, his jaw clenching. "I only wish there was more I could have done to protect the team..."

"There was nothing more, Morningstar, don’t blame yourself for their actions," McGonagall told him, her sharp voice breaking with a rare trace of maternal exhaustion.

"Still..." he looked down at the floorboards, his hand twitching slightly against robes as if underlying cosmic magic were actively waiting to go wild and break the human barriers of the room. Lucifer forced breathing to steady, hoping his face remained perfectly neutral. "Excuse me," he said shortly, turning on his heel to leave the office.

Hermione watched him walk out, her heart skipping a beat as she caught the dark vibration rolling off his shoulders. She glanced back at her Head of House, her fingers tightening around her bag. "Is Lucifer doing okay?" McGonagall asked softly, using his first name, a display of familiarity she almost never granted to a student.

"I don’t know, Professor..." Hermione whispered, her throat tightening as she looked back toward the corridor. "I honestly don’t know... but I am going to find out," she said with conviction, and left the office as well, her boots clicking rapidly against the stone.

She sprinted down the hallway, barely catching up with her boyfriend as he was navigating a dark, secret staircase leading up, "Lucifer! Is anything wrong?"

Lucifer stopped his stride on the stone step, turning his face back to look down at the bushy-haired girl. "Is anything right in this place, Hermione?" he asked her, voice low, hollow, and dangerously calm.

"Don’t be like that with me..." She walked up the steps, closing distance between them until she could feel the cold dampness radiating from his wet shirt. "If something is truly wrong, you can always tell me everything. You know that..."

He said nothing for a long, heavy moment. The sealed Ministry slip Umbridge had left behind carried the explicit terms of how the lifelong Quidditch ban could be lifted. It wasn’t about serving a sentence, going to Azkaban, or serving detentions. It stated that Lucius Malfoy was ’furious’ over his son’s injuries, and if the boys ever wanted to fly again, they would have to write a formal letter and beg on their knees for his forgiveness.

This whole administrative trap had Draco’s grubby, arrogant fingerprints plastered all over it. Everyone in the wizarding world knew the Weasleys and the Malfoys had never gotten along for generations; they couldn’t resist the opportunity to rub agonizing salt straight into a fresh family wound.

If Fred and George ever forced their pride to write that submissive letter, the pure-bloods would never let the twins live the humiliation down.

Not just them, but the entire Weasley family would become a laughingstock within the Ministry. Arthur would be mocked by Lucius forever at work.

It would be a permanent stain on their family name, and the Weasley twins wouldn’t let that happen, not for Quidditch, and not for anything in this universe.

"Hermione... you are the most important person in my entire existence... if anything fatal ever happened to you... I don’t know if I could keep going..." he whispered, his voice trembling with an agonizing emotion.

Hermione instantly began to tear up, her small hands reaching out to clutch his forearms as her heart cracked. "Lucifer... wh-where is all of this c-coming from?"

"Before I met you... after my Dad ruthlessly banished me straight to Hell... I thought I was destined to be alone for eternity with Lilith," Lucifer said, his voice dropping into a dark, hollow drone as he looked at her. "I had no one beside her, and our growing family for a very long time... I haven’t been truly happy for a minute of my entire fucking life."

"I used to think my life was nothing but a tragedy," Lucifer said, his dark eyes locking onto hers as he turned his body fully to face her stance.

"But then, when we first met at Lux, we became fast friends, and I found a real reason to be happy again... When that Troll attacked you in bathroom during our first year, I was terrified of the magic taking you away from me. My anger took over my mind, and I killed it..."

Hermione wanted to interrupt him, to press her lips against his to stop the pain, but she firmly refrained, deciding to let him lay bare and say everything he had kept bottled up inside his chest.

"In our Second year, when Malcolm Graham insulted your heritage with that foul, disgusting word... I wanted nothing more than to tear him apart and kill him right there. But I didn’t because of you... you are my rock, Hermione... when that Basilisk had petrified your body, I was angry, miles more furious than I was at the Troll, so I hunted it down and killed it..."

Lucifer paused, taking an unsteady breath as his fingers tightened around the stone railing. "In that train compartment during our third year, seeing what those Dementors’ did to your mind... that’s why at the Black Lake, I forced them to be exiled into purgatory. And last year, when Snape insulted your appearance so callously during the teeth hex, with no regard for your feelings... I almost murdered him right there in front of students... but your voice echoing inside was the only thing that kept me from doing so..."

He closed his eyes, his knees giving out from under as he fell on the stone steps. Hermione went down to the ground with him willingly, her arms wrapping securely around his neck to hold him close.

"I cannot lose you, Hermione... if I ever did, I am taking this world down with me," Lucifer sounded terrifying, bone chilling whisper filled with venom and hatred. "I will take every soul with me into the ash..."

Lucifer’s pupils turned a devilish, furious shade of pure, glowing red for a couple of seconds while the words left his lips, the temperature on the staircase skyrocketing.

Hermione felt a chaotic mix of intense emotions swirling through her chest. She felt profoundly touched that he cared for her with such a consuming passion, but she was worried about his mental state. She still didn’t know what dark vision or memory had triggered this sudden breakdown, but it was glaringly obvious he had been keeping these burdens bottled up inside his chest for terms, and simply wasn’t able to contain the pressure anymore.

She realized right then that it was more important than ever before that she remain firmly by his side as his support system. Her boyfriend desperately needed her strength, just as she needed his.

Lucifer didn’t know it, but Hermione was terrified every time he got seriously injured or faced a curse; she wanted nothing more than to make his hidden pain and physical injuries disappear from his life.

She wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay, but couldn’t promise that outcome in a world turning to war. What she ’could’ promise him was to always, unconditionally love him, no matter what happened to the alignment of the stars.

She held his shoulders gently against her chest, burying her face in his neck, and let him weep in the dark until breathing settled down. Hermione wouldn’t move centimeter from steps until he was ready to face the castle again.

xxxxxxx

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