Professor Morningstar

"What's with all the panting?" Lucifer's question was directed at the seventh years in his class. There was no response since it seemed his students were still trying to regain their breath.

"Your skills mean nothing if you cannot keep up," His eyes fell on the landscape he could see from the window.

An idea struck him, "Inform the others that all my classes will be there,"

The students followed his gaze to the patch of land near the Black Lake and groaned loudly. There were mutters among them, trying to determine if such a thing was even allowed, but Lucifer did not reply.

"There's still 15 minutes before this class is done, so continue," That statement brought more sighs and grunts from the class. However, with a flick of his wrist, Lucifer had anyone standing still hopping with a slight stinging hex.

After his class of the day had been concluded, Lucifer retreated to the room he was using.

The Twins were already paying off since they had helped him out with a case of Firewhiskey that they had snuck into the castle. Lucifer certainly did not mind underage drinking and had given them appropriate reparations.

There was a knock at the door that brought Lucifer out of his thoughts, "Come in,"

Potter's head popped around the door and stated nervously, "I'm here for, uh, detention."

"Ah. Well, I don't believe you've earned it, but I suppose appearances must be upheld," Lucifer stood and removed the suit jacket. He uncuffed his shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

"Sir?" Potter appeared flummoxed.

"Wizards seem to think defence is synonymous with magic. I beg to differ. So, swords or hand-to-hand?" Lucifer asked, only paying little attention to the boy as he cleared out an area of the room.

“Hand-to-hand?” Potter answered although it sounded much like a question. No matter, the choice was still valid.

"Come, Potter. Hit me,"

Harry Potter watched as his Professor stood deceptively still and closed his eyes. The man had his arms outstretched and palms open, welcoming whatever Harry did. Harry hesitated for a brief moment, clenching his fist around his wand. He walked up to Lucifer and poked his chest.

Lucifer's eyes snapped open incredulously, "What was that for?"

"Are you trying to get me expelled? Maybe you want to get me out so you can return to kissing Voldemort's feet?" Potter was incensed

"Excuse me. I don't kiss anyone's feet. Well, not unless they're into that sort of thing. Even then, it's fifty-fifty," Lucifer was on a roll now, "Besides, Voldemort doesn't seem like a very attractive name anyway."

"Okay, so you aren't a Death Eater." Potter concluded finally

"What the bloody Hell is a Death Eater?"

"You're not from around here, are you?" The boy was stating the obvious at this point.

"I'm the Devil,"

"Right. And I'm the Heir of Slytherin," Potter scoffed

"You could be, I suppose? You do remind me of him. Although, maybe Gryffindor might explain those eyes of yours," Lucifer analysed the boy's build and expressions. It appeared that he might break the boy if he spoke much longer.

Harry appeared to dodge that line of thinking entirely.

"So, why the Devil?" was the question finally asked as the youngster found a seat on the pushed-away couch.

"I rule Hell. It's my purpose; I'll have you know,"

"Huh," was Potter's only response

"Wizards don't appear to know me," Lucifer stated as he took a seat, "How do you?"

"I grew up without magic. I went to church every Sunday since that's what normal people do. So yeah, heard all about you,"

"And? What do you think?" Lucifer couldn't help his curiosity. He had been vilified for centuries, blamed for the world's evil without a second thought.

"I dunno," Harry seemed unsure, but Lucifer was determined.

"Tell me,"

"Well, I don't believe you, but I always figured he had a story, you know?"

Lucifer's eyes widened, "Of course, I have a story. Led a rebellion, got squashed, and tossed in Hell. Been ruling it ever since,"

"But did anyone care before the rebellion? Maybe, he just wanted someone to listen, and when no one did…." Harry trailed off.

"I wasn't stupid enough to ask follow-up questions, but I always imagined that we'd probably be friends if I met him." Harry looked up to find Lucifer Morningstar staring at him in disbelief.

"You thought you'd be friends." The statement was hoarse, and Harry shrugged. He didn't know how to tell the Professor that those the Dursleys blamed and despised were the people Harry had chosen to root for. It had been his way of rebelling against their authority.

Lucifer suddenly needed to focus on anything but the boy. His gaze roamed across the room, looking for anything to distract him. A flash of white under the kid's sleeve caught his eye.

"What happened to the hand?"

"Quill injury. Probably won't happen again,"

Lucifer had his doubts. An injury on the very same hand the boy had been favouring the night before? The coincidence was unlikely.

"All defense classes will be by the Lake from now," Lucifer changed the subject smoothly enough

"Really. Why?"

"Albus said something about a war. Magic isn't going to help you if you can't run, duck and dodge,"

Harry nodded his acceptance, "So you believe him when he says Voldemort is back?" 

Lucifer looked lost, and Harry gave a watery chuckle, "You don't know? Or you don't care?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Lucifer said. A glance at the clock proved that Harry had been here for about an hour or so. He motioned to the watch with a wave, "I think that's plenty for today. Off with you,"

Harry stood, "Good evening, Professor."

Lucifer responded with a whispered greeting of his own as the boy left. The door barely shut before Lucifer had the Firewhiskey in hand, skipping the glass altogether.

He hadn't moved from his position on the couch, the now nearly empty bottle was cradled against his chest, but he could hear faint sounds of arguing. He groaned but got to his feet, depositing the bottle on the side table as he walked to the door. In one fluid motion, he yanked it open and found himself face to face with Fred, George, and a third more miniature human.

"Can we come in?" Fred asked as George sulked at being caught out. Lucifer stepped away from the door to allow them entry. He shut it behind them and made his way to the other side of the desk.

Fred and George had placed the younger one in between them and continued exchanging looks over his head.

"Sometime today would be nice," Lucifer drawled

"Punishments," George blurted finally, "Were you serious?"

"I was,"

Fred practically yanked the kid's arm into Lucifer's line of sight and added his own.

Lucifer's hand caught theirs, and he stared. The appendage was wounded in a manner that was new to him. The skin was angry red, and blood was drying along the open lines.

Lucifer's eyes flashed angrily, "What am I looking at?" His jaw was clenched, and the vein in his forehead was bulging.

"This is Umbridge's idea of a detention," Fred growled

"She is having children mutilate themselves," Lucifer could barely keep his visage up

"We can handle it," George said, showing his own hand, "But the firsties can't."

"None of you should be handling anything," Lucifer ground out. The dots connected in his head. Harry's grimace, the blood he smelt, the bandage he saw, and the timing of it all.

He stood abruptly and headed for the door, "You can deal with the injuries?"

"We have been, yeah," Fred answered

"Good. Go. Spread the word, nobody is to attend a single detention with the vile creature. I'll handle the rest,"

Fred and George nodded solemnly and left. He heard their chipper voices return as they were clearly trying to cheer up the young fellow with them. The door slammed shut behind them, and his face flickered, giving way to the scarred look he wore as the Devil.

Dolores Umbridge had harmed children under his care. She would pay.