Harrison Brooks was not quite the typical Ravenclaw with his passion for the outdoors and cataloguing various insects. But due to pressure from his family, he had accepted a simple position in the Ministry. Of course at every family gathering, he argued it was quite important and instrumental. The truth was he was a lowly replaceable mail clerk who tended to spend more hours crafting excuses to avoid work than doing it.

Fortunately for him, his predecessor had been near blind by the time of retirement and everyone had long since gotten used to mail at the Ministry moving at a snail's pace—literally, a rather complicated charm summoned giant snails to grease the mail chute.

Rubbing his eyes, Harrison set aside his spectacles and filtered through the endless complaint letters of citizens expressing their displeasure in accordance with civic duty. Among them were the ashen remains of howlers—a benefit of being rather slow in sorting the mail.

He didn't know what drew him to it, but he grabbed a letter jutting out from the ash, his breath stalling at the elegant, emerald calligraphy spelling out: The Dark Lord.

"Thomas!" he shouted, rushing to his supervisor at a most unusual pace and leaving his careful illustrations of a butterfly he caught yesterday on the desk where anyone could see. The Dark Lord wasn't supposed to be back! Sure, Harrison was a Pureblood, but the Muggles had a most superior insect collection!

His supervisor craned his neck over the towering stack of magically stabilised letters. His nose scrunched as it often did in his presence. "What is it now?"

"There is a letter from the Dark Lord!"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped and, with a whip of his wand, summoned the letter from his grasp. "The Dark Lord isn't back."

Harrison stumbled forward and righted himself, staring at the razor-sharp paper cut and the blood slowly welling up through the crack, like a creek after a storm. "But, sir—"

Thomas snorted, flipping the letter over. "Someone's ill thought idea of a prank."

"But shouldn't we report it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Get back to work, Brooks. I expect double tonight for bothering me with this nonsense. Darklords, as if."

Hunching his shoulders, Harrison made his way back to his station. He had only intended to do what was right. A letter from the Dark Lord spelled all sorts of disaster. He stared at his butterfly illustration and raised his fingers, nibbling on them nervously. It was a dreadful habit that his mother was always on his case for, but he never seemed able to shake.

Did he have a duty to report the letter to the DMLE? Madam Bones would surely be interested in investigating it, but then he would be making waves. One was not supposed to make waves at the Ministry. That was how you ended up like Arthur Weasley, in an even worse paying job than the mail clerk!

A deafening bang echoed through the room, and immediately after, the world glowed orange as a blast of hot air assailed him. As he succumbed to the pain of his burns and the world grew dark, he wondered briefly if that was what witch burnings had felt like. What use was a flame-freezing charm if his wand wasn't in his hand?

The Dark Lord had indeed returned.


"Are you sure the bloke isn't evil?" Ron asked as they took a seat at dinner. "Demons are like the definition of evil."

"We know good werewolves," Harry pointed out. "And do you really think Dumbledore would let us be in danger?"

Ron raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Dunno mate. He didn't even notice Moody had gone madder than usual. Maybe the demon fooled him too."

Hermione huffed. "Well, I am proud of you, Harry, for setting aside your prejudices. He really was quite helpful in potions." She smiled dreamily. "I learned more today than I ever imagined. Isn't he wonderful?"

"Demons kill people," Ron hissed.

"He seems alright," Harry said and took a drumstick. Undoubtedly, the Ministry stooge would take issue with his demand for justice, but he felt strangely at peace despite knowing of the upcoming detention. Lamperouge might not have been able to fix everything, but he genuinely helped. "He wants Voldemort as dead as we do."

Shaking his head, Ron scoffed. "Turns out Snape is worse at teaching potions than a literal demon."

Harry chuckled and scanned the room, trying to judge whether the majority of students had arrived. They all deserved to know the truth and have justice. "Do you think it's wrong to do something a little Slytherin-ish?"

"Mate..." Ron's lips curled back in disgust. "Continue that line of thought and I'll think the demon messed with your head."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione reprimanded. "Ambition is all grand and good as long as you don't let it define your life. Why, I would like to become the Prime Minister one day."

"You'd certainly do a better job than Fudge," Harry joked, trying to take the tension off his nerves. It was time. Everyone who was someone had arrived.

He swung his feet over the bench and clutched his wand tightly in his pocket.

"Harry? What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

It gave him the strength to take a step forward. "Demanding answers."

He shrugged off Ron's attempt to stop him and marched up to the high table, then realised he hadn't thought this through. No one would be able to hear him.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge said snidely. Her lips thinned. "What dramatics will you engage in now?"

He raised his chin. "Call me a liar, again!"

McGonagall rose, her face ashen. "Mr. Potter!"

The hall fell silent to observe the spectacle, and Harry grabbed the opportunity. "You claim I am a liar, so tell me, how did Diggory die!"

Umbridge tutted. "It was a tragic accident. You really are a disturbed young man to cause such a commotion. Is your ego not big enough yet?"

"Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore tried to protest.

Harry cut him off. "How did Diggory die, Madam Umbridge? Or does the Ministry not know, is that what you are saying? Maybe I did imagine the entire thing! But I do know, when I returned, a Hogwarts student was dead and nobody seems to fucking care!"

"Detention, Potter," Umbridge snapped. "Now cease your theatrics—"

"Why?" a cool voice cut in. Lamperouge's voice carried easily though the hall, instantly enthralling the crowd as he strode forward casually. "Mr. Potter appears distressed by the death of a classmate, yet you brush it off? Is there a reason you cannot answer his questions? Do your laws forbid you? Has Diggory's father asked for the case to be kept quiet?"

"No, he hasn't!" screamed one of the Hufflepuffs. She rubbed her face furiously as she marched to the table, a four foot tall bundle of righteous rage. "He just dropped dead and nobody knows why!"

"I thought your purpose here was to evaluate Hogwarts," Mr. Lamperouge said. "I would consider the death of a student and the laissez-faire approach of the staff to be a striking example of their disregard for safety."

Uneasy murmurs greeted that statement, and Harry warily focused on the demon who dared to criticise Hogwarts, his home. Such sentiments would let Malfoy Sr. step in again and make everything worse.

"Yet," Lamperouge said, silencing the entire room, "you appear to be part of the cover up."

"You—" Umbridge snarled. "A foreigner dares to criticise the Ministry? What kind of conspiracy is being cooked up here?"

Lamperouge shrugged idly. "Then enlighten me. What legal proceedings have occurred since Diggory's death? Or is this country such a backwater shithole that it cannot even investigate the death of one of its esteemed members?"

"It's because he was a Hufflepuff," a member of the house shouted. It was their sixth-year prefect. Flanked by two of his year mates, he marched up to the table and slammed a piece of parchment down. "We demand an investigation be opened regarding the circumstances of Cedric's death. Someone fucked up."

"Language," McGonagall weakly protested. She was drowned out by the rising chant from the Hufflepuffs.

"Potter murdered him," one of the Slytherins shouted.

Harry whirled around, his wand ready and sparking in his fists. "Then put me on trial for it! The Ministry already tried to expel me for protecting myself against Dementors. It failed because they are a bunch of liars!"

"Detention!" Umbridge screamed again, her shrill voice cutting through the room. She raised her short, stubby wand, sending off flashy sparks. Her glare turned to Dumbledore. "I will be telling the Minister of this."

"I understand," Dumbledore said, his voice grave.

"The Minister's bitch," one of the Weasley twins shouted, eliciting various jeers.

Umbridge flushed a deep shade of ugly purple.

"Enough!" Dumbledore roared with a flick of his wand. "Harry, I am very disappointed in you."

"..." No words left his mouth. Harry settled on glaring. Of course, Dumbledore was disappointed when he couldn't even bother talking to him.

"This display was unseemly, Mr. Potter. Whatever grievances you have, I expect my students to address them politely. This is a school, not a tavern."

The Hufflepuff prefect somehow managed to look even more enraged. Harry was half-surprised that a bolt of lightning didn't strike Dumbledore dead.

"Now," Dumbledore said. "Everyone will apologise to Professor Umbridge."

"She—" Harry screamed, only to be cut off again.

"Now!" Dumbledore barked.

Harry sullenly dropped his defiant gaze, uncomfortably reminded of his uncle. "I apologise."

"Ma'am."

"Ma'am," Harry bit out.

Dumbledore's glare turned on the other students until they too mumbled out reticent apologies. "You are all to return to your dorms and reflect upon your actions."


Severus would be laughing if the situation wasn't so dire. Umbridge was practically frothing as she paced around the staff room. Instead of leaving, she had called the Minister over. From anyone else, he would scoff at such petty actions. Unfortunately for them, Umbridge had real power, and if parents saw Hogwarts as a threat, it wouldn't take much for the Ministry to strip Hogwarts of all its independence.

"The timing of it was rather strange," McGonagall mumbled in the security of their privacy charm as she sipped her tea. "It reminds me of some rather loud protests from the Slytherins during my time."

"We would've been hexed to the infirmary if we had tried." Severus's gaze drifted to his assistant. He was undoubtedly behind this. His interference had been too opportune, backing Potter when he had been about to lose steam. And the Hufflepuffs, the house which he had been mis-sorted into, had been useful for once.

"Hufflepuffs," he said in disbelief. How? The dunderheads were beyond redemption.

"They always looked out for their own," McGonagall said with some sadness. "The frustrating part is that while they went about it all the wrong way—"

"—you agree with them," Severus finished. Opening an investigation into Diggory's death would've validated Potter's claim and would've hampered Voldemort's recruiting efforts. His first act upon returning to society had been to kill a Pureblood student.

"The boy's family and friends deserve closure," McGonagall said, setting down her teacup. "Of course they shouldn't have caused a scene, but Mr. Potter was right to push the issue. I wish he had come with me and we could've submitted a proper petition to the Ministry, even if I had to go behind Dumbledore's back."

"He's trying to protect the school," Severus tried to defend. "They are still children and they should have at least one safe-haven from the turmoil of war."

"How well did that work out for you?" McGonagall asked with cursed pity in her eyes.

Severus huffed and settled on glaring at the demon instead. "He's playing at something."

McGonagall chuckled. "You're jumping at shadows, Severus. He was there to support his new friends."

"You," Severus bit out, "are a blind fool."

"And you are a paranoid one. He is a sweet boy, even if his wand work is utterly baffling. He told me he was something similar to a Headboy at his old school. It sounded like a grand time. The Headgirl threw a cross-dressing ball. Do you think for Halloween—"

"Absolutely not."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "No need to be such a downer. The last few Halloweens have been disappointing. If I were a fraud of a seer, I would say that a toad's shadow is sweeping across the school and bringing misery."

He massaged his temples. "That does not even rhyme."

"It is always the students playing pranks. Let us professors have the turn once. Are you not curious what Dumbledore would do with his beard?"

A shudder ran down his spine. "You will not suggest this travesty—"

"Oh, you should know better than to threaten a lion. Not to worry, none of the students will know it was our plan. We have reputations to uphold after all."

"Our plan? I have nothing to do with this!"

She patted his shoulder consolingly. "Fun is good for the soul."

His gaze swept over the room, back to his troublesome assistant: a demon in more ways than one. Somehow, he had planted this insidious idea in his austere colleague's mind. She was the oasis of sanity in this school of buffoons and eternal optimists. He would not have the demon corrupt her!

Unaffected by the might of his glare, the demon lifted a tea cup and leaned back to watch Umbridge throw Floo powder in the fireplace again and irately demand the Minister.

The edges of his lips crept upwards—the smile of a true demon—before his face smoothed over. A shiver ran down Severus's spine.

How could no one else see the monster Dumbledore had allowed in their midst? How could Dumbledore think he had this creature under control?

The fireplace flared green, and Minister Fudge stumbled out, covered in far too much soot to have originated from the Floo. He grabbed his singed hat nervously and pressed it to his chest as he observed the room.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore greeted with a twinkle in his eye. "I apologise for calling you away. This truly is not urgent."

"Not urgent? Blasphemy," Umbridge screeched. The demon quirked an amused eyebrow at that remark. "Cretins have run over the school. There is no discipline. These hooligans do as they please!"

"Madam Umbridge," the Minister tried desperately.

She stopped only long enough to catch her breath. "And him!" Her arm swept out at the demon. "He is an atrocity with no respect at all for our country. A barbarian like him should not be allowed anywhere near the students. He is worse than half-breed filth. At least they respect the Ministry."

"Madam Umbridge," the Minister tried again.

"And do not get me started on that Potter brat. He called us liars before the entire school! He is ill-spoken and does not know his place. He insists You-Know-Who is back. He'll incite panic for his vainglory. This is the hero of the Wizarding World? The fame has gone to his head and spoiled him rotten. He thinks he is the next coming of Merlin!"

"Madam Umbridge!" the Minister roared to the surprise of everyone, including him. His face flushed, and he fiddled with the edge of the hat as he observed the room. "I only came here because my assistant said you said it was of utmost urgency."

"This is urgent," she insisted.

Had Umbridge really been a Slytherin? Severus shook his head. For Fudge, the vain fool, to show up singed meant that the Ministry was in chaos. She could not read the room.

"The Ministry is on fire!" Fudge barked. "I feared Hogwarts had suffered a disaster as well, but you all seem content enough."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the demon who had suddenly perked up and was listening attentively.

"A fire?" Dumbledore asked, already standing. "Why Cornelius, you only have to say the word. I will always be of aid."

The Minister frowned before reluctantly nodding. "Yes, thank you."

"How," Severus asked, watching the demon out of the corner of his eye, "did this happen? A simple fire should be well within the Ministry's capabilities."

"We do not know. The fire started on the lower levels after an explosion. It was terrible. The entire building rattled. Unfortunately, it spread to the Department of Mysteries and—" He collapsed in a free armchair and clutched his head. "It's awful! I don't know what to do. It's an outright disaster! Over fifty employees are already in St. Mungo with serious burns. The healers can't help! They say it must be the Dark Arts!"

Strangely, the demon's face transitioned to one of confusion.

"You have no idea how it started?" Dumbledore asked. "No calling card?" Unsaid was the Dark Lord, but they heard it all anyway.

The Minister shook his head. Staring at his wretched, depressed form, a shell of a wizard, Severus believed him.

Had it been the Dark Lord? It was not his style, even now while he quietly terrorised the countryside and rebuilt his supporters.

Or…

His gaze swung back to the demon.

"Let us go," Dumbledore said calmly, resting a hand on the fool's back. "The people need to see their Minister after such a tragedy. And Madam Umbridge? I am sure your support in these trying times would be much appreciated."

Fudge nodded. "Dolores, please."

Her eyes were wide in shock. She followed without a word of complaint.

The fire sputtered green. The three of them departed. And the gentle orange glow returned to lighting the room.

"Oh dear," McGonagall whispered. "I need to inform the Weasleys, and…"

As the other professors filtered out to warn the students who would be affected by this disaster, Severus clamped the demon's shoulder before he tried to depart.

"Sir?" the demon asked politely.

Severus waited until the door closed, and they were truly alone. A flare of magic threw the creature against the wall.

"This was your doing?" Severus accused, bearing down on him.

Recalcitrant, the demon stared up at him, not bothering to move. Nothing in this mortal world could truly harm him. "How would I have been able to do that? I have not left Hogwarts since arriving here."

"Why do you not deny it outright then?" Because he was a slippery eel who could not lie. But half-truths and insinuations, those were all fair game. "Say you had nothing to do with the fire."

"I did not set anything on fire," he said.

He did not? Had Severus been wrong? A flicker of guilt rose in the back of his mind staring at the body crumpled against the wall. He looked so much like a student.

Severus shook his head. This was not the boy's true form. It was a guise chosen to manipulate them. And had it just been a fire? "No, there was an explosion…. You were involved."

The demon blinked, not answering.

"Deny it," Severus demanded.

The demon slowly stood. His real, terrifying smile was back. "You're quite perceptive."

Unease filled him, and Severus clenched his wand. He had confronted the demon with righteous fury, but— He was a fool, prone to impulsive stupidity, fueled by anger.

This time it could end his life. This was a demon. Severus did not have the power to defeat him, and he unwisely waited until after Dumbledore was gone.

A new horrifying realisation dawned on him. "You are ingratiating yourself with Potter." No matter how much he hated that painful reminder of the past, he had sworn to protect him.

The Unbreakable Vow hummed in his blood, displeased with his failure of duty. Despair weighed down his heart, even as he lifted his wand.

"There is no need for that," the demon said dismissively as he sat on the edge of the table. In his presence, even a paltry piece of furniture resembled a throne. "We do have a common goal."

"Then why bomb the Ministry?" Severus snapped. It was the only way the demon could have done it from here. The Wizarding World did not use bombs. Strangely enough, the Dark Lord had outright forbidden them when one of his Death Eaters had suggested it during the last war. The man's screams had drowned the rest of the evening.

The demon shrugged. "Impulse? Habit? I already made it, and the owl couldn't find your Dark Lord."

"Habit? Bombing government buildings is a habit?" Severus asked. How did an eighteen year old condemn themselves not only to hell but to an eternal existence of being a wretched demon?

"That is what happens when you are at war."

"Innocent people died because of you," he accused.

The demon laughed. "I can feel your soul. It is drenched in innocent blood. How many lives have you claimed, Professor?" He stood, walking forward at a calm, steady pace. "Banishing me to Hell once more will not stop you from seeing me again."

An eternity of torture awaited him. He had known, but having a demon declare it with utmost confidence was different. He aimed his wand. "It does not matter. I will protect—"

The demon raised an eyebrow. "Protect whom?"

"The students. Stay away from them. Do not pretend to be their friend."

"Are you protecting them? They are terrified of you."

"They do not need to like me. Let them be scared; maybe they will be more cautious in the future and not get themselves killed."

The demon sighed. "Do you think your headmaster will keep them alive? A student already died on his watch. Frankly, he let me in, which is the height of stupidity. Meanwhile, Mr. Potter, his star pupil, has received no support after such a tragedy. Nor have any of the Hufflepuffs, who are left alone to be enraged that the death of their classmate has been swept under the rug."

"Dumbledore is the only one who can stop the Dark Lord," Severus whispered. His handling of affairs was less than ideal. The man was simply too busy, burdened by half-a-dozen positions.

"I cannot break a promise," the demon said. "I swear that I will protect the students as a whole so they may go on to have fulfilling lives. I have enough children tossed away by society to keep me company in Hell. Heaven is a bitch."

There were loopholes to that promise. No individual student was protected but perhaps that was for the best with the Death Eaters among them. Slowly, he lowered his wand slightly. "Your real name. If I am to have an ounce of trust in you, then I must know who you are. You are no simple demon."

"My real name? You think it's not Lelouch Lamperouge?"

"You play too much with words."

The demon's spindly fingers clasped his wand hand. "You do not want to know."

"What I want does not matter."

"First, I need a promise from you to keep my secrets."

His faith in Dumbledore was already fractured. Severus, as always, would need to protect the students, Potter, by himself. Making a promise to a Demon was nothing much compared to that. "I promise."

"It will have to be a little more binding than a human's mercurial oath. I would know. I spoke so many lies once upon a time."

"We do not have a binder for an Unbreakable Vow. You would also have to trust them as they cannot be bound—"

The creature's eyes turned red like the fires of Hell.

The demon was speaking words, but Severus could not hear as his Occlumency shields were torn to shreds. The pain drove him to his knees. His mind was on fire, feeding on his every attempt to resist. Only deep inside, sheltered within the prison he had built for his worst memories and thoughts, was his mind safe.

This power was why the demon was so apt at the mind arts, confounding live subjects instead of charming or transfiguring them.

The familiar weight of the Imperius Curse fell on his mind, shackling everything down. Except this time, he could not break the chains, no matter how much he strained.

The fire receded, and Severus blinked, the room coming into focus.

He wiped the drool from the edge of his mouth and stared at the demon who looked mildly concerned.

"Who—Who are you?" Severus demanded, still grappling with the effects of the mental intrusion. He could think freely, yet he was bound. An Unbreakable Vow could so easily be broken, even if it set your blood on fire for the transgression.

This… This, he knew intuitively, could not be broken. What had he done?

"The Demon Emperor, second only to Satan. Also known as Zero, Lelouch Lamperouge, and—" His face twisted in contempt. "Lelouch vi Britannia."


Hey, look, an update. Pro-tip: Don't leave a document with a half-written sentence because you'll spend forever trying to figure out what the rest of the sentence is before finally giving up and deleting it. XD

For people curious as to why I haven't been updating recently, a lot of irl things are happening. I have things handled enough to finally spare the focus for writing but I wouldn't expect any updates on more serious works in the near future.