"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Confused, Harry turned to his friends and then the twins. There was a demon on the staff this year. The young man had to be the one. But, Hufflepuff? Surely, a demon would've been Slytherin. They were evil for a reason, and while the Hufflepuffs could be self righteous pricks, they always looked out for their own.
At the High Table, Dumbledore and Snape's expressions were frozen in surprise. So he was the demon!
"Do you reckon he tricked the hat somehow?" Ron loudly whispered.
Hermione sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't trick the hat. More likely, he isn't a demon at all. Maybe the twins misheard, and he met a demon. Or he was possessed. Because would a demon really be in Hufflepuff?"
"Yeah, Hufflepuffs are dunderheads," Ron said. "They've never accomplished anything have they?"
Cedric. Harry's jaw tightened, and he refocused on the High Table, not trusting himself to speak. In the corner, the transformed Umbridge squawked furiously.
Mr. Lamperouge carefully passed the hat to McGonagall and stepped forward, bowing slightly to the Great Hall as the thunderous applause from the Hufflepuff table died down. "Thank you all for a warm welcome. A quick announcement before we begin the feast: I will be holding office hours Wednesday from 10:30 to 11:30 and Friday from 3:30 to 4:30. To not give Professor Snape reason to complain, I highly suggest you attend if you're struggling in the class. Thank you."
His voice carried easily through the Great Hall—as if he had cast a sonorus, yet his wand was nowhere in sight—and people reflexively straightened. His tone demanded obedience despite his pleasant words.
Then, he nodded to the Headmaster and casually walked to the Hufflepuff table.
"We're going," Hermione announced.
Harry nodded hesitantly. "To check if he tricked the hat."
"No! For our grades. Professor Snape gave me an 'E'. It's unacceptable."
"Hermione," Harry said slowly. "I got five 'P's last year."
"Snape has it out for you, man," Ron said. "One time only. That's when we play Exploding Snap in the Common Room."
"You mean you do your homework," Hermione said dangerously.
"Right... Totally. Homework."
The older Hufflepuffs generously scooted to the side, making room for Lelouch to sit as he approached. He shot them a grateful smile, pleased by the display of unity. For now, they seemed to bear him no ill will, but fortunately, Lelouch's position as an assistant afforded him his own quarters. He would be relatively safe there from unscrupulous attempts on his person.
Warm greetings surrounded him as they introduced each other by their names, and Lelouch had to remind himself that unlike Britannia, he shouldn't use honorifics unless he was teaching.
Did the wizarding world even have proper lordships? Or was their Dark Lord only stylized as such out of grandiosity? What of the non-magical world?
"I need to go to the library," he mumbled to himself.
Patricia Morris laughed. "You're supposed to be a Hufflepuff, not a Ravenclaw."
The hat had mentioned certain traits, but Lelouch hadn't investigated the Houses before, deeming them an insignificant school house dorm rivalry. Milly had once done something similar, pitting the boy and girl dorms against each other in a brutal battle of attrition.
"Are Hufflepuffs not supposed to go to the library?" Lelouch asked.
Edison Ross huffed. "You're really not from here."
"I lived in Japan before," he admitted. "I'm not yet used to your British way of doing things."
"Wicked. Don't stress it, mate. But Ravenclaws are always hogging all the books. They'll be there tomorrow, even though it's the weekend. They're right crazy."
"Unless you're Granger." Patricia rolled her eyes. "She's a Gryffindor, but if there's a book checked out, chances are she has it. She's worse than the Ravenclaws. She stockpiles them."
"And Ms Pince does nothing about it."
"Knowledge is power," Lelouch said approvingly, earning him more strange looks.
Kara Mills raised a delicate eyebrow. "Sounds like what a Slytherin would say." She leaned across the table, accentuating her figure in a move that would have made Milly jealous. "You must be quite smart to help with potions. Professor Snape always calls us, Hufflepuffs, dunderheads."
"He calls me that after I blow up his cauldron. I think he likes me."
"And with that attitude you could be a Gryffindor," she said.
"I'm mildly concerned with your fixation on attributing my behaviour to a specific house." Scanning the table, he frowned at their sombre expressions. "Your house is much quieter than the other tables."
"One of our members died last year," Edison whispered, his voice cracking. "A lot of us looked up to him. He was the best of us and entered that stupid tournament to prove that we aren't worthless."
Lelouch twitched at that dreaded word.
"But he died. Potter claims that You-Know-Who killed him, but—"
"It's hogwash. You-Know-Who isn't back," interrupted Alexis Jenkins. "I'm not saying Potter killed him; he doesn't have the guts for it. Just... It was probably an accident, and he wanted the glory."
"And now we're nothing again," said the fifth year prefect, Hannah Abbott.
"That reminds me," Edison said, pulling out a form. "You need to sign up for the Resume Builders Club."
"The what?" Lelouch asked. A resume? He had never filled one out. What experience could he possibly state? Took over an Empire at eighteen but couldn't save a close friend?
"Well, everyone knows Ravenclaws are smart. They all get hired by guilds for research and such. Slytherins have connections and wealth. Even when they're poor, they'll have plenty of favours from their Hogwarts days to at least land a job. And then for the regular, common jobs... Well, everyone knows a Gryffindor is trustworthy and honourable. There's barely anything left for Hufflepuffs afterwards, not when everyone thinks we're useless."
"Are you saying your future employability is determined by what a hat says when you're eleven?"
"Pretty much," Edison said bitterly. "You'll have it even worse being a foreigner; although, if you're already assisting potions, maybe Dumbledore will hire you as a proper teacher. But! That's why we have the Resume Builders Club. Everyone signs up and keeps an eye out for open jobs. We're always the second to hear about them; Slytherins always know before they even open."
"That is horrifying," Lelouch said sincerely.
"Hufflepuffs help each other out, even if we don't like each other. We have to stick together to survive. So, you in?'
Lelouch glanced at the Head Table where Dumbledore had finally managed to restore the ministry employee to her proper state. "Is everyone here signed up for it?"
"Yes."
An impressive feat if Lelouch was being honest. Some of them had to have the personal connections to advance themselves independently, but they were still willing to lend a hand. He smirked. "I'm in. It's an impressive organisation you've founded."
"It's not an organisation."
"It's a network of spies," Lelouch countered. "Have you considered doing something more with it? You have an army of souls eager to strike and prove themselves."
"An army?" Kara giggled, an eager glint entering her eyes. "He's right, you know. Remember when Emma's younger sister went missing? We found her in a day and a half after the DMLE spent a week being useless."
"Hey!" one of the younger Hufflepuffs, Susan Bones, shouted. "My aunt helped us. It was Fudge's fault."
"But the point is," Kara said, "we could turn that energy elsewhere."
"To find people?" a younger boy interrupted.
"Ooh. We could find missing criminals."
"We could be vigilantes!"
"But how does that help us with finding a job?"
Kara bared her teeth. "Well, if everyone is scared of Hufflepuffs..."
"We could find out what actually happened to Cedric," Susan Bones said quietly.
The table quieted with solemn respect. Lelouch made a mental note to learn more about the boy, whose memory, even in death, wielded authority.
Susan glared furiously at her plate. "Fudge stonewalled my aunt. She wasn't even allowed to check Potter's story. Someone could have murdered him, and we would never know. It was a maze and everyone was watching. What kind of accident kills someone without a mark?"
"Justice for Cedric!" someone shouted, and the table erupted.
Edison stared apprehensively and slowly turned to Lelouch. "What did you do?"
"I didn't mean to?" Lelouch protested weakly. "I didn't know you had a martyr already."
Chuckling weakly, Patricia patted her friend's shoulder. "It's for a good cause."
Well, if the Dark Lord had killed Cedric and they proved it, then Lelouch had just accidentally acquired an army to send after the bastard. They would need to be trained though.
It wasn't like he intended to use them as such; they were merely plan E if all else failed—Dumbledore and his secret society, assassinating the Dark Lord through poison or bombing, turning the Ministry of Magic against him, and stealing his followers.
Still, they were discussing vigilantism, and Lelouch had the necessary experience to guide them away from common pitfalls. After all, Hufflepuffs helped one another.
"Perhaps your Resume Club should take a more active role with meetings," Lelouch suggested. "You could train them in employable skills—such as, not getting arrested."
"That's brilliant," Kara declared, an unholy light in her eyes.
As a demon, did Lelouch corrupt people with his mere presence? Schoolchildren from happy backgrounds shouldn't be this easy to sway.
Trepidation coiled in his gut as Severus discreetly observed the Hufflepuff table. Pomona was beside herself in happiness to have such a brilliant young man under her care, unaware of the viper that had entered her den. Already, trouble was stirring. He had never seen the dunderheads so riled up. Silently, he bemoaned his lack of foresight in placing some monitoring runes.
Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the ones too stupid and well mannered to get into trouble.
He wouldn't put it past the demon to have tricked the hat somehow to foil their carefully laid plans. Hufflepuff was just too perfect for disappearing into anonymity.
His House's table was alight with derogatory comments as whatever respect they held for Lamperouge, as his assistant, broke. Hopefully, they blamed Dumbledore until the demon had the opportunity to establish himself as actually well versed in the subject and earn their respect.
Frowning, he narrowed his eyes at Draco as rumours spread about his defection from the Dark Lord. It wasn't an ideal situation, but he knew it was coming. One didn't apparate away with the Dark Lord's prized summoned demon without consequences.
On the bright side, none of them knew what the demon looked like. They would never suspect a Hufflepuff.
"Dolores, please," Dumbledore pleaded to the side, having finally turned her back. "It was merely a prank. We will do our utmost to catch them but we cannot detain all the students until one of them confesses."
"This is an attack on the Ministry," she spat.
If Snape were a betting man—which he wasn't foolish enough to be—he would say it was Lamperouge. The demon was the only one with access, the skills, and the guts to target a ministry official in full sight. He even had the perfect alibi as his sorting had taken place at the same time.
It was all too perfect. He was such a Slytherin.
The hat might have been fooled; Snape wouldn't be.
Double potions in the morning was the absolute worst. Naturally it was with the Slytherins because the universe hated Harry. He just wanted one year without having to hear Malfoy snigger about his every mistake as Snape berated him.
"Cheer up, mate." Ron elbowed him gently. "We get office hours later today and can determine whether he is a demon after all. We just need to survive class first."
Hermione sighed wistfully. "The younger years had him already. They said he was very helpful and it was even fun."
"Slytherin propaganda," Ron declared.
Harry snorted. "That's a big word, mate. You sure you know what it means?"
"Lay off. I do listen to Hermione. Some of it sticks."
"Oh, Ron. I'm so proud of you," she cheered, and Ron's ears turned bright red.
The door creaked ominously as it swung open, and they filtered inside. Half-heartedly, Harry began setting up his table, already resigned to failing. Snape had it out for him. As usual, the instructions were written on the board in a spidery cursive that he despised deciphering.
"You have class," Snape suddenly barked.
Mr Lamperouge shrugged nonchalantly in the back of the classroom. "Turns out it's taught by a ghost. My housemates already promised to give me the necessary notes. I determined this would be a more productive use of my time."
Strangely, Snape faltered, his lips twisted in a silent snarl. He nodded seriously. "Fine. Watch out for Longbottom. He rivals your explosions by accident."
Harry gaped. Explosions?
The class passed unnervingly uneventfully, interspersed with Snape's usual insults, and only at the end did Harry realise what was so strange. Not a single cauldron had exploded, melted, or bubbled over.
In the corner of the room, Neville stared blankly at his cauldron and the faint grey shimmering smoke rising above it—the exact hue it was intended to be.
Lamperouge quietly congratulated the boy before drifting over to the Slytherin side and stopping Goyle from throwing his uncut roots into the cauldron.
"Time," Snape called. "Turn in your vials at the front of the class. As a reminder, Mr. Lamperouge will not be able to assist you for your final. I advise that you do not abuse his guidance."
Harry rushed to the front, putting his off-colour potion on the desk. Snape glared at him, and Harry met his gaze defiantly. Finally, Neville walked up and placed his vial on the table, the hue just a smidge off from Malfoy's perfect sample.
"Cheating will not save you, Longbottom," Snape hissed.
"I didn't cheat, sir," Neville whispered.
"He wasn't slicing the ingredient correctly, sir," Lamperouge interrupted casually. "I swear most of your class doesn't know how to cook... or even measure ingredients properly."
Cooking? Harry shuddered, remembering all the times Aunt Petunia had dragged him into the kitchen to assist. She had never trusted him to use a knife on his own.
"Potions is a far superior art to cooking, " Snape said.
Lamperouge nodded solemnly. "Yes. Potions can explode, but the fundamentals remain the same." He turned to the rest of the class. "Office hours begin in fifteen minutes down the hall. Please do not bring your own cauldron. The office lacks the impressive and substantial number of wards inof the classroom."
He and the professor exchanged some brief quiet words before Lamperouge picked up his bag and casually strode to the door where half of Gryffindor waited. He raised an amused eyebrow, and Harry grimaced at the unsettling reminder of Malfoy Sr. Their house instinctively fell silent.
How was he able to command such authority with a mere look? He was barely older than them.
Oblivious, Malfoy sauntered forward. "Lamperouge? My father has never heard of your family. I feel sorry that Professor Snape is saddled with an incompetent mudblood such as yourself."
Harry grit his teeth, only Hermione's firm hand on his arm stopping him from lunging forward. Next to him, Neville barely held Ron back.
"Mudblood?" Lamperouge's lips quirked. "My blood is filthy, but you will find that Professor Snape only finds me exasperating, not incomptent. Now, is there anything I can help you with Malfoy? Or do you intend on obstructing your classmates' education and starting the year with the honour of earning my first detention?"
Malfoy blinked, his arrogance faltering at the cool response.
Maybe Lamperouge was a demon, but anyone who could so easily handle Malfoy wasn't too bad. Stubbornly, he ignored the reminder that their polyjuiced DADA professor had done the same.
Lamperouge inclined his head imperiously before spinning around, his robes flaring enviably. "If you will follow me..."
In front of his office, a crowd of younger years had already gathered, clutching their textbooks, and some, their cauldrons. The Hufflepuffs greeted him warmly, clamouring for his attention, and he returned their affection in kind.
Harry lowered his gaze and squashed the desperate longing in his chest. It had been merely a day, but Lamperouge had turned his house into friends... into what a family should be. Gryffindor meanwhile had returned to despising Harry once more, many labelling him as an attention seeker for claiming Voldemort was back. They never had his back, not even Ron.
"I need a bigger office," Lamperouge joked. "I can hardly fit all of you."
"We can stay out here, Mister," one of the Hufflepuffs suggested.
"Wait a second," Lamperouge ordered and entered his office, returning with a stack of cutting boards. "We'll be covering the proper preparation of ingredients and the difference between slicing and dicing, which so many of you have conflated to mean the same thing."
Harry accepted a board and pulled out his thin potion knife as he sat on the cold dungeon floor. Lamperouge waited for them to quieten down before launching in a lecture, his voice carrying easily and not allowing for a moment of distraction.
In a way, it resembled Voldemort's tone, yet it was kind and gentle.
Perhaps he was a demon despite being a Hufflepuff, but he wasn't evil—just like Remus, who was condemned for being a werewolf.
"Mr. Potter," Lamperouge said as they packed up. "May I have a minute of your time?"
Harry nodded and smiled reassuringly to his friends before slipping in his office. The wariness returned as the door shut behind him.
Lamperouge took a seat at his desk and gestured for Harry to do the same. "I apologise if this is an uncomfortable topic, but I was informed by my housemates that you saw Cedric Diggory die. While the Headmaster must have reached out as well, I feel I must ask as well. How are you doing?"
A flash of green flashed in front of his eyes, and Harry collapsed into the chair, his breath lodged in his throat. "He didn't—"
"He didn't?" Lamperouge asked gently, leaning forward.
"Ask. Dumbledore never asked afterwards." Harry bit his lip against the tears burning in his eyes. Dumbledore barely looked at him now. What had he done wrong? No, he knew. He failed to save Cedric—failed to be a hero.
"I see," Lamperouge said quietly. "Nightmares?"
Harry nodded mutely.
"Were you the one to kill him?"
Harry snapped to his feet. "No! I would never kill someone!"
Except he had as an innocent first year when he burned Quirrell to death in desperate self-defence. Heroes weren't supposed to kill.
"The time may come where you have to, but I believe you. Those aren't the eyes of a killer, not yet anyway. Still, some of the students suspect you."
They didn't just think he was a liar... but a murderer as well?
"The Hufflepuffs will be starting to petition for reopening the case of Diggory's death. You should publicly demand justice first. If you wait, it will only look like you're trying to save your own skin."
Harry crossed his arm. "That sounds Slytherin-ish."
"Could you have saved him?"
"Yes! I was the one who said we should both take the cup... and then—I should've been faster. Then we could've grabbed the cup and both been safe."
Lamperouge looked at him sternly. "Then you shouldn't let his death be in vain. You have a duty to him now. Do your part in ensuring he receives justice. Those who would oppose this support the Dark Lord."
Shakily, Harry nodded. He knew he had to defeat Voldemort. It was his role, his only purpose. His parents had already died to that mad man, and Voldemort was fixated on him for revenge. Cedric was just an additional reason.
"Announce it over dinner," Lamperouge suggested. "Don't let him be forgotten."
"Will the nightmares stop?" Harry asked.
Lamperouge fell silent, his hand rising to his sternum and gingerly massaging the area. "No. But that is the price one must pay. Choose what you want from life and devote your life to it. Then you may die happy."
Harry clenched his fists in his lap. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted to live a normal life, free of the bullshit of being the Boy-Who-Lived. But justice for Cedric didn't lie down that road. Nor was it honourable to abandon his friends for his own selfish desires.
"I don't know what I want," he admitted quietly, "only what everyone wants from me."
"Do you want Cedric to be used by the Ministry to slander you?"
"No."
"Then why don't you start there?"
Thanking him, Harry rose and stopped before the door. Lamperouge had been the first one to ask, to offer help unsolicited and allow Harry to decide what to do. He didn't need to care, yet he did. But Harry had to ask, so guiltily, he turned around.
"Are you a demon?" Harry asked.
Lamperouge chuckled. "Yes."
Harry's hand drifted to his wand. Foolish. Idiot. He should know better than to trust anyone.
"Do you think I'm evil?" Lamperouge asked.
"That is what all the books say." He raised his wand.
"And they say you tamed unicorns at the age of five," Lamperouge teased, as if he were oblivious to the wand pointing in his face. "Let me ask you this, Mr. Potter. How would you like to be forcibly ripped out of your normal day and deposited in front of a madman who would attempt to enslave you to his will?"
"Not at all," Harry answered, lowering his wand but prepared to defend himself if necessary.
"The Headmaster has kindly offered me his protection so I may keep my freedom. As long as the Dark Lord lives, he is a threat to my well being. I am very invested in his demise."
"I know a werewolf," Harry blurted out. "He's great, but the Ministry says all werewolves are evil."
"Evil is often subjective. I believe all are born with the capability of doing great good, and some with the capacity for great evil. Most of us never live up to our potential. There is always a choice, and sometimes great evil is necessary to bring about great good. And here? Evilness is decided upon by the Ministry to suit its goals. Will you make your own judgments and bear the consequences which come with it?"
Harry nodded shakily. He couldn't let the Ministry win, especially not when they sent Umbridge to twist Hogwarts to their needs. "I'm sorry... I know what it's like to have people judge you unfairly. I'll help with Cedric too. He deserves better than being used as a Ministry prop."
"Harry?" Lamperouge called after him as he opened the door. "Thank you. If you ever need help, all you must do is ask."
I'm seriously surprised by the lack of angry comments over sorting Lelouch into Hufflepuff XD
Really, the Hufflepuff army should be feared, and Lelouch isn't even trying. Allowing Lelouch to offer therapy is terribly unwise. His response to trauma is to lead a violent revolution and kill the person responsible.
I know the schedule isn't like it is in canon, but this is what the Hogwarts schedule spreadsheet spat out, so I'm going with this lol. Lelouch's office hour time slot is a period which all students have free.
(Excalibur is updating tomorrow. I'm truly sorry for the delay)
Thank you Dark and GabrielTFS for betaing.