The painted sky overcast, Severus entered the Great Hall and slid tiredly into his seat. The term would be beginning in a few days, filling peaceful halls with endless screams and destroying whatever shred of his patience remained. He was already counting down the days to the next summer break.

McGonagall joined him soon after and idly stirred her tea as she worked on her embroidery. He grimaced at the sight of Potter's face. The term hadn't even begun yet and the brat was already haunting him. At least, his very public defection meant he was allowed to hole up in the castle for the remainder of the summer. Albus himself couldn't drag him to the Order's safehouse. He had a demon to guard—or rather, keep busy.

"Do you think your assistant will be prepared?" McGonagall asked. "He is quite far behind on the curriculum. The Japanese schools are certainly subpar."

Ah yes. Not only did the demon know muggle chemistry, he was also fluent in Japanese, French, Chinese, Russian, and German. It was convenient for passing him off as a student from abroad, but absolutely infuriating because the demon swore none of his knowledge was due to demonic interference.

"He is adept at potions," Severus grudgingly admitted.

McGonagall froze, tea sloshing over the edge of her cup. "Adept? I was worried he was a charlatan, but to hear such praise from you, Severus..."

He scowled. "I have gone through more cauldrons these past few weeks than my entire time teaching here."

"I thought you said he was skilled?"

"When he wishes to be. He always brews the potion near perfect on the first try. Afterwards, he takes delight in creating controlled detonations. He has the most remarkable ability to make even the most inert substances volatile."

McGonagall winced. "Yes. I almost fear him meeting our dear Mr. Finnigan. Our transfiguration lessons have been... subpar, to say the least. Even when he finally manages a successful transfiguration, it will inevitably combust before the end of the lesson. I do not understand what is wrong with that boy. And Filius says charms are much the same."

"I ask that you refrain from having him cast spells on other students."

"Well, he is quite skilled at confounding live subjects. I asked him to transfigure a mouse into a cat. The mouse then spent the next three days stalking other mice and attempting to meow before the spell finally wore off."

Demonic influence, it had to be.

Severus frowned. They still had no idea what the demon was capable of. His inability to be restrained by magical ropes was certainly not the end of it, and Severus had a suspicion that locks didn't phase the demon either. The case of the magically unlocking cabinets in his classroom and office certainly suggested so.

"At least he is a bright student," McGonagall said. "As long as his brewing is acceptable, his lack of proper spell work should not deter him from his job. Academic types are so often lopsided. I expect he will be going to Ravenclaw. He has the mind for it."

Severus paused. The demon was as Slytherin as they came. "Albus is thinking Slytherin."

"Really? Your house does not have a monopoly on good brewers, Severus. He is quite charming and helpful. Even Mrs. Norris likes him! I never thought I would see the day she warmed up to someone else."

Why hadn't Albus told the rest of the staff that their newest member was a literal demon? He was bewitching them and worming into their hearts. This was Quirrell all over again, with only Severus on guard and his concerns falling on deaf ears.

"He's a schemer," Severus warned.

"Oh, you do like him!"

No. He did not.

Every summer Harry seemed to be involved in some sort of small, unpleasant adventure. Nearly being expelled after having his soul almost sucked out by a Dementor was the worst by far. At least the trial had gone his way, but Dumbledore continued to not talk to him! Suffice to say, Harry was frustrated, and Grimmauld Place was never cleaner in the face of his misplaced wrath.

Across the hall, the perpetually locked door of the adults' secret meeting taunted him. Voldemort was after him, yet they couldn't bother to give him the simplest bits of information.

What were they even doing? Voldemort was out there, and they had done nothing!

The only tidbit he overheard was that Snape had blown his cover. Harry doubted it was anything too serious. Snape was too much of a coward.

The twins, somehow looking shiftier than normal, peeked around the corner of the hallway. Upon seeing him, their faces lit up in delight.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed.

George grinned. "We heard something—"

"—which would of course interest—"

"—our charming little investor."

Fred clasped a hand over his mouth and pulled him into a stuffy side room. Despite having cleaned it two days ago, dust had already settled. He motioned for him to wait, and the twins disappeared.

Three minutes later, they returned, having kidnapped Ron and Hermione.

Ron crossed his arms. "I'm not eating anything."

"Not to worry, Ronniekins." Strangely, Fred grew sober.

George stepped forward and his voice dropped to a whisper. "We overheard Mum talking to Dad. You know how Snape defected?"

"Apparently," Fred cut in, "You-Know-Who summoned a demon, and Snape brought it here-"

"—and it's going to teach at Hogwarts!"

Hermione sniffed. "Don't be absurd. Demons are a category of dark creatures according to the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. There is no singular creature known as a demon. Perhaps, Professor Snape secured a Grindylow for DADA—"

"No, there are actual demons," Ron said, squashing any hope Harry had that Miss Weasley meant a metaphorical demon. "They're incredibly dark creatures. Grindylows are said to be their descendants—"

"—or humans they cursed," Fred added.

"They have to be summoned from across the Veil," George explained. "Last time it happened was in the 14th century and wars broke out all across Europe. That's why they created the first Order of Merlin, to commemorate the lives lost of wizards who dared to face it."

"They say a demon was responsible for the Black Death," Ron whispered. "It wiped out thousands of wizards."

Hermione crossed her arms, brow furrowed. "Then why isn't that in any of the books!"

"They're children's stories, Hermione." Ron winced. "Everyone grows up hearing them. Like the Tales of the Beatle and the Bard."

"Well, I don't know! I'm a Muggleborn. All I know about demons is the fire and brimstone stuff and how they live in Hell."

"Muggles have demons too?" Fred asked, horrified. "But how can they defend themselves?"

"Um," Harry interrupted before Hermione blew a gasket. "So there's a demon teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," George said. "Dumbledore must have some way of controlling it—"

"—but we should keep an eye on it regardless," Fred said.

"I bet it's a Slytherin," Ron grumbled.

"Well, the Defence Professor never lasts longer than a year anyway," Harry tried to reassure them—but mostly himself.

Lelouch twirled his wand—sixteen inches, extremely flexible, made of Cypress with thestral hair—between his fingers as he sat in his office. Situating himself in the wizarding world so he could pass as one of their own had initially staved off the pangs of boredom, but now the summer was coming to an end, and the other Professors had grudgingly deemed him acceptable.

He really needed to get back to Hell. There were so many things to do, and Nunnally's inevitable arrival to prepare for. Despite his best effort, most of Hell was not wheelchair accessible, and the lack of guard rails meant bathing in hellfire was one simple misstep away.

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, he had not been able to summon a portal and slip through the cracks in reality and return home. It was truly a shame.

Killing their stupid dark lord was quickly moving to the top of his priority list. Dumbledore assured him they were doing their best in trying to track him down, yet there had been no progress on that front despite the weeks which had passed.

At this point, Lelouch was seriously considering writing the wannabe terrorist a letter.

He brightened. Yes, he could do that.

A pair of hair clips which he had found abandoned in a dusty corner made quick work of the lock on the storeroom. Lelouch wasn't quite sure what the wizard's magical locking charm was supposed to do. Lockpicks—and explosives when that didn't work—were hardly stopped by some simple magic.

Smirking, he grabbed the ingredients he would need. Unfortunately, Severus kept his more poisonous materials hidden in his office. Explosives would have to suffice.

Returning to his office, he laid out the envelope and grabbed his quill. Wizards, much like demons, were ridiculously old fashioned. Lelouch much preferred fountain pens. He never had to sharpen the nibs with those.

Using a heavily stylized script, fit for an emperor, he wrote: The Dark Lord

The inside of the envelope he covered in wax. As he waited for it to harden, he pulled out his personal cauldron and began the brew. The mixture was then poured into the envelope and sealed. In the next ten minutes, it would settle. Afterwards, any sudden exposure to oxygen would set it ablaze.

Truly a shame that he wouldn't be able to see his handiwork.

He doubted it would kill the Dark Lord. It was a mediocre explosion, and his experiments in the lab had shown that the protective wards held despite his best efforts.

Perhaps Lelouch should apologise to Severus; the man was already greying... Or not. If Lelouch was dragged here from Hell against his will, he could simply recreate it here and have these fools suffer with him.

Now, the owlery.

Huffing, he reached the top and pushed his way inside. He missed demonic teleportation. Twenty school owls took flight, leaving one scarred owl glaring at him. He hadn't been aware owls could glare.

The owl hooted judgingly.

Lelouch scowled and held out the letter. "This makes no sense whatsoever, but I need to send a letter."

The owl warily extended its leg, and Lelouch secured it with a neat little bow.

"The Dark Lord, please?"

The owl hooted disapprovingly.

"Your job is to carry letters, not judge me for it."

The owl took to the air, gliding to the opposite end of the room and scraping its talon across his skull.

Lelouch's eye twitched. "I swear that I am not aiding your idiot of a Dark Lord. It will most likely severely displease him."

Appeased, the owl leaped out the window, plummeting to the ground before it rose and circled above the Forbidden Forest, growing smaller and smaller—and larger? The owl ruffled its feathers as it landed on the window sill before him and hooted.

"Let me guess, you have no idea where the Dark Lord is?"

The owl hooted.

"Perfect," he grumbled. Maybe titles didn't work with owls? Aliases had to work, or the headmaster would be confronting him about his little misdirection. Telling them his real last name would lead to so many uncomfortable questions.

Vi Britannia was such a pretentious name anyway.

This world had no need for Emperors. Despite their little terrorist problem, they were surprisingly peaceful.

He crossed his arms and glowered at the bird. How else could he draw the Dark Lord out of hiding. "What about one of his supporters?"

The owl began grooming itself.

"No?" He sighed.

Well, he could anger the Dark Lord through other means. His lack of presence in the papers either meant the government was hiding his activities or that he was purposefully keeping a low profile. Given how they were slandering the headmaster—who clearly was running some sort of counter-terrorism force and doing a terrible job of pretending he was not—Lelouch was leaning to the latter.

"What about the Ministry?"

The owl perked up and took flight before he could change his mind.

Lelouch stuffed his hands into his pockets. Did the wizarding world view explosives in the mail like Britannia? As terrorism?

Oops? Old habits died hard.

What were the chances someone would be harmed? They would be fools to not screen their mail.

When the Daily Prophet arrived the next morning, Lelouch eagerly asked for a copy, only to be disappointed. His little letter bomb wasn't mentioned anywhere.

"A sickle for your thoughts?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"A little experiment of mine failed." He spread some jam on his toast. "I need to change my approach."

The students perhaps? Some of them had to be sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause.

"I am sure Filius will be delighted to have you in his house," she said kindly. "You have such an inquisitive mind. Although, are you sure I cannot tempt you with some bravery? Your wand is certainly a tragic one, carried by some of the greatest in my house."

"Cypress for a heroic death," he whispered, echoing Ollivander's words.

For a moment, he was back on the float, watching Zero—his assassin, his best friend, his worst enemy—approach. And the blade pierced his heart as he finally dropped the act and smiled, because at last, it had all gone to plan.

Then Nunnally screamed, begged for him to come back.

He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He deserved the pain for all the suffering he caused. That was all he was good for, and even if Nunnally landed in Hell, she would soon realise the same.

A hero's death? He died a villain, like he intended.

The grand doors opened, and Lelouch raised an eyebrow as the Headmaster entered, followed by a woman dressed in the most hideous shade of pink.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "May I introduce Dolores Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

She humphed and stepped up to the High Table, grabbing the seat next to Lelouch. "I am most delighted to be working here and ensuring that the students receive an education up to the ministry's standards."

Perfect. The school was insane. Enforcing some sort of legal standards—such as not hiring newly summoned entities or having a forest with giant spiders—would protect the students in the long run.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Lelouch said, holding out his hand as the other professors looked on in distaste. "I have numerous matters of concern."

Her clammy hand grabbed his. "I would be delighted to listen. The Ministry is naturally concerned by the—"

"Excellent. I would first like to discuss the moving staircases as they present an immediate safety hazard, especially the trick stair."

She flushed. "I meant—"

"I also have concerns over how accessible the Forbidden Forest is. I understand the acromantula are endangered, but surely, it is possible to relocate them to a more isolated area. It is only a matter of time until a student is eaten."

"Mr. Lamperouge," Dumbledore interrupted. "I assure you—"

"Safety aside, I must also ask how Hogwarts expects to accomodate students with disabilities. The sheer number of stairs with no alternate pathways puts any student with mobility challenges at a disadvantage. Furthermore, the dungeons lack proper lighting which will strain students with poor eyesight. If the staff fare is anywhere near representative of the student meals, I must also express concern over student health."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I assure you, Mr. Lamperouge, we have no student who needs extra care. Magic is truly miraculous."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lelouch snapped. "Your last defence professor was the insane man with the weird eye and a peg leg. While he may not have complained, moving around the castle was surely difficult. Various members of your staff have allergies, so I expect that to extend to the student population. None of the food is labelled with common allergens—"

"And if there is an issue, Madam Pomfrey will be able to resolve the issue."

Umbridge sneered at him. "Yes. These matters are hardly of concern. The Ministry wishes to tackle the curriculum which has been noticeably subpar."

"Yes, the account on the Goblin Wars is terribly one-sided," Lelouch agreed.

"No!" Umbridge snapped. "The ridiculous notion that You-Know-Who is back!"

"Who?"

"She means Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord," Dumbledore explained.

Pity. That would've been useful to know earlier when he had wanted to send the letter.

"I am not from here," Lelouch added helpfully. "The Headmaster was so kind as to offer me an assistant position in potions. It is an invigorating subject."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Where are you from?"

"I spent many years in Japan, and I started my magical education rather late."

"Your family?"

He hesitated. Geass was a type of magic. "My parents weren't wizards, if that is what you are asking."

Her lips curled, and she stormed away, taking the seat on the opposite end of the table.

Lelouch narrowed his eyes. A government meddler then—who, like everyone else, cared little for the students and their safety.

Sighing, he focused on his breakfast. His goal was to return to Hell. This was merely a little detour, a vacation perhaps. He shouldn't interfere; they could solve their own problems.

He watched the woman out of the corner of his eyes. But that didn't mean he couldn't have some revenge on his own behalf.

Entering the Great Hall, Harry immediately scanned the High Table for the new staff member—the demon. On the far right, was the woman from his trial. And on the far left, was a young man, who looked barely old enough to have graduated.

"Oh, I hope he's teaching DADA," Hermione said longingly.

Ron groaned. "He could be the demon."

"He doesn't look like one."

"Because he is in disguise," Ron spat.

"What about the woman? She's new as well," Hermione said.

"She works for Fudge. I saw her at my trial." Harry narrowed his eyes at the young man. "I bet he is a Slytherin. He has that same look like Malfoy."

"Who does he even think he is?" Ron spat. "The git is sitting there like a prince. How does he even manage it? It's a bloody chair."

Harry nodded, his eyes wandering down the table. The room was entranced, and while Dumbledore sat in his customary seat in the centre, it was the mysterious young man who drew everyone's attention by merely sitting there.

The side doors opened, welcoming a stream of new first years with Professor McGonagall in the lead.

Halfway through the sorting ceremony, the young man leaned over to Professor Flitwick, drawing him into a quiet conversation until Professor Sinistra silenced the two with a harsh glare.

As the last first year rushed off to her table, Dumbledore rose from his seat. "Before we begin the feast, it is my great pleasure to introduce Mr. Lamperouge who will be finishing his studies here at Hogwarts and also assisting our dear Professor Snape in potions. I ask that you all treat him respectfully and show him the best that Hogwarts has to offer. Now, shall we sort you, Mr. Lamperouge?"

Gracefully, Mr. Lamperouge rose and inclined his head. His sharp eyes—were they purple?—swept across the Great Hall and dreamy sighs floated from each table. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."

A flash of pain burned through Harry's scar, and he bit his tongue to stifle the scream. Yes. That was most definitely their demon, and the headmaster was letting him loose in Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was no longer safe.

Again.

With unbelievably confident steps, Mr. Lamperouge strode to the stool and dropped the raggedy hat on his head.

"How does he look so cool?" Ron whined. "It's impossible."

Fred grinned. "Demonic you could—"

The room fell abruptly silent as the woman in pink lurched to her feet and drunkenly stumbled forward.

"Professor Umbridge, is something the matter?" Dumbledore asked.

She wheezed, followed by a loud pop and a plume of pink smoke. A few students screamed, and Harry leaned forward, waiting for the smoke to dissipate.

A giant robin—its chest and head bright pink—charged out, squawking angrily. The hall exploded with laughter.

"Silence!" Dumbledore ordered, raising his wand. "This behaviour is most unacceptable. Mr and Mr—"

"It wasn't us!" Fred yelled. "We swear upon our collection of Dungbombs."

"I think I'm in love," George whispered, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Such daring and audacity. At the Welcoming Feast too. It's inspiring."

The hat dropped over Lelouch's eyes, bathing him in darkness. He held perfectly still despite the sudden uproar around him—posing for portraits turned out to be good for something after all. His welcome gift to Umbridge was clearly well appreciated.

The din faded, leaving him trapped in a prison of silence, utterly exposed. He suppressed his instinctive unease.

Despite his best efforts, Filius had refused to explain what enchantments allowed the hat to speak and sort. This was something Lelouch couldn't control. His lips curled in distaste.

"What do we have here?" a voice echoed in his head. "A demon? But a mortal soul as well? I most certainly haven't yet had the honour."

"Get out of my head."

"Now, now, calm down, dear Demon Emperor. I am merely here to do my job: sort the students where they fit best. And you are such an interesting specimen. Children get so tedious after a while. Their thoughts are so simple. But you— Well, you're not a child, yet not an adult, despite all the years you've lived."

"I'm dead."

Painful memories flashed by. His sister begging and crying. His mother's betrayal. The Black Knights turning against him. His sister declaring him a demon. Suzaku betraying him, dragging him before the Emperor. His father casting him out. The sword plunging through his chest, finally bringing him contentment. Euphie, drenched in endless corpses piled on top of one another as he carried Nunnally though a war zone.

He clenched his teeth. "Stop it!"

"A hero's death?" the hat mocked. "You are truly an interesting specimen. Abandoned and betrayed at every turn, so you schemed and plotted, fought for revenge and justice. You were a saviour and then a villain of your own creation. So the question becomes, where to put the man who has been lost among masks for so long."

"Just get it over with", Lelouch thought tiredly. Simple school houses meant nothing. They were artificial divisions anyway. He already had an office to call his own. He needed nothing else.

"Do you regret it? Dying?" The hat paused. "You could have lived and ruled with absolute power at your fingertips. With the power to break minds to your will, you would have faced no opposition."

"No." His resolve hardened. "The only ones who should kill are those prepared to be killed. My time came. I accomplished everything I set out to do. The last piece standing in the way was myself, so I removed it."

A contemplative aura surrounded him. "You would fit in well among Slytherin—ruthless, ambitious, cunning. Yet you threw it all away, sacrificed your life in the greatest scheme. Perhaps it is ambition to topple an Empire, or perhaps it is an ideal. Slytherins play the game, but they are never willing martyrs, because the dead can play no longer. What drives you, Demon Emperor, if it is not personal desire?

"Ravenclaw? You certainly have made great strides since you have come here, but you never learn for learning's sake. Always an ulterior motive, seeking to make knowledge of use or to leverage it to gain what could be of use. No. Ravenclaw is not for you.

"Yet you would be a poor fit for Gryffindor. I might enjoy the resulting show, but I do have a responsibility to this school, and they wouldn't last a week. Regardless, you lack the heart of chivalry needed.

"What drives you? You disowned yourself because of your mother and your sister. You vowed to fight when you saw grievous injustice—your sister's wish was merely an excuse. Justice is what you seek, driven by your loyalty. You are undoubtedly a..."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Lelouch's greatest asset and weakness has always been his loyalty to his friends and his sister, thus Hufflepuff. Also because it's hilarious to turn Hogwarts stereotypes upside down and this is very much self-indulgent.

Anyone who wants to complain that Lelouch should be good at magic, I point you to the anime. Lelouch's number one technique is blowing up floors. (Whatever did they do to you, Lelouch?) His magic is doing exactly what he wants. XD

Thank you Dark and GabrielTFS for betaing.