Of course, I own none of the characters, worlds, or franchises used in this non profit fanwork. Both HP and DxD belong to their respective owners.

….

This story is a crossover between HP and DxD.

There are two protagonists, Emerald Potter !Female Harry and Luminara Lucifer, female reincarnation of the original Lucifer from DxD verse.

The timelines of both stories, especially HP are moved a couple of years forward to a more modern setting to allow more seamless merger as well as opening one of the future plotline about internet making it harder and harder for supernatural to hide.

The origin of devils and their early history is also altered, the changes will be gradually showed in the story. The great war and forward remain unchanged.

Issei and Rias story from DxD will remain largelly unchanged and will only minimally intersect with the story of my story's protagonists, at least in the initial stages.

Sirzechs character in this story will also be more altered to reflect someone who went through wars and rules over a nation of selfish, arrogant devils. He will be a shrewd politician and schemer who tries hard to allow devils to prosper. He is still bit of siscon for Rias.

There are a couple of changes on the HP side of the world. For example, Hermione's parents are no longer dentists but rich traders. Why? Well it will have its role later in the story.

p.s. This story is highly unbalanced, meaning wizard are much, much weaker when compared to devils, angels, and so on. Which makes sense in this context, as I want devils and fallen to be something truly terryfing for normal wizards.

…..

Emerald Potter opened her green eyes. She blinked, her vision clearing as she stared at the familiar but strange ceiling above her. It wasn't the Gryffindor dormitory or the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys'. She knew this place.

The hospital wing.

Her heartbeat picked up. Something was wrong, though she couldn't place why. The faint, sterile smell of the hospital wing surrounded her only accutatign her confusion.

How did I get here? Why am I here?

She blinked, trying to shake off the grogginess, but her thoughts were slow to surface, like they were trapped beneath a thick fog. The last clear memory she had was being with Ron and Hermione in Lockhart's office, the walls lined with his ridiculous portraits. Everything after that was a blur.

Sitting up, her head swam, a dull throb pulsing at her temples. She pressed her palms into her forehead, as if that might help ease the pressure, but the sensation remained—growing stronger with attempt to remember.

I can't remember.

"Emerald!"

The sharp call cut through the haze. She turned just in time to see Hermione rush to her bedside, her eyes wide and red-rimmed, her bushy hair even wilder than usual. Without a word, Hermione flung her arms around her, squeezing her so tightly Emerald thought she might suffocate.

"Hermione—" Emerald's protest was muffled, her voice barely escaping past her friend's shoulder.

Hermione finally pulled away, her face pale and exhausted. "We've been so worried," she said breathlessly, wiping her eyes hastily. She was clearly trying to compose herself, but her hands were shaking.

"What happened? Why am I here?"

Hermione hesitated, glancing toward the door as if expecting Madam Pomfrey to interrupt. "It was Lockhart," she said, her voice quieter now. "He—he's a fraud, Emerald! A complete fraud! He's been stealing people's memories and pretending their accomplishments were his!"

Emerald's mind fumbled to keep up. Lockhart? The peacock of a professor who spent more time bragging about himself than teaching anything useful? Her skin prickled as she tried to pull her memories together, but they slid away, slippery and fragmented.

"He almost killed Ginny!" Hermione burst out, her voice trembling. "He poisoned you, and he tried to erase all our memories. We would've forgotten everything if Ron hadn't stopped him."

Emerald frowned, her head swimming with the information. "But… the Chamber of Secrets…?"

Hermione shook her head, still sniffling. "Another one of his lies. He made it all up, just so he could pretend to save us from it. He wanted to become even more famous."

Emerald nodded slowly, trying to let it all sink in. Lockhart had always seemed fake to her—the way he'd strutted around the school, grinning like a peacock, turning their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes into lessons about himself. His "tests" had been laughable, filled with questions about his favorite color or the most ridiculous bits from his books. She'd never trusted him.

But why can't I remember more? The thought bubbled up again, uninvited. It wasn't just the memories that bothered her—it was the creeping sensation that something was still wrong, like there was a piece of the puzzle missing.

"And Ron?" Emerald asked.

Hermione wiped at her nose, her face still drawn. "He and Ginny went home. Mrs. Weasley thought it was best for them to recover there."

Emerald nodded, though her stomach churned. She wasn't going to see Ron or Ginny again until after the summer. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

Before she could ask more questions, the door to the hospital wing opened with a brisk creak. Madam Pomfrey strode in, all business, but her eyes softened when they landed on Emerald.

"You've been through quite an ordeal," she said, already checking over Emerald with her wand. "Miss Granger, I'll need to ask you to leave. Miss Potter needs rest."

Hermione hesitated, but then nodded. "I'll come back tomorrow," she promised, giving Emerald's hand a quick squeeze before hurrying out.

Hermione squeezed her hand briefly, then hurried out of the hospital wing. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor before finally fading away.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over to Emerald's bed. "You need to rest, dear," she said, though her tone had softened. "A strong confounding charm like that takes time to wear off. You'll feel much better after some sleep."

Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand at the torches lining the walls. The light dimmed, but something odd happened. The room didn't plunge into the soft darkness Emerald expected. It was… lighter. She could still see as if it was a day.

"Didn't you just—?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced at her, offering a small smile. "I did. It's the charm that hit you. It seems to be affecting more than just your memory. Don't worry, it's harmless. It should wear off in time."

Emerald's brow furrowed. It didn't feel harmless, but Madam Pomfrey was already moving toward the door, clearly unbothered.

"Try to relax," the nurse added, pausing at the doorway. "You'll be right as rain soon enough. Get some sleep."

The door closed softly behind her, leaving Emerald alone in the darkened hospital wing. She lay back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but her mind wasn't. That strange, nagging feeling—the one she'd been trying to brush off—was stronger now.

She turned her head and scanned the room again. It looked normal, but it didn't feel normal. Her vision was too sharp, almost unnaturally clear. She could see every little detail: the fine grain of the wood on the bedpost, the tiny dust motes floating in the air. It was like the lights hadn't gone out at all.

Emerald closed her eyes, willing the strange sensations to go away. It's just the spell, she reminded herself. Madam Pomfrey said it would wear off.

Sometimes later:

Emerald sat by the window of the Hogwarts Express, the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels beneath her soothing in an odd way. Outside, the sky was dark, thick clouds rolling over the hills, and rain tapped against the window. The familiar landscape of the countryside passed by, veiled behind a sheet of water streaming down the glass.

Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened window. She barely recognized herself. Her skin looked pale, smoother and softer then ever. She raised a trembling hand in front of her face, watching her thin fingers shake slightly.

The lack of the weight sitting on her nose only cemented the feeling of wrongness she felt. Her sight was crystal clear even without glasses.

This is wrong, she thought, her mind racing. I shouldn't be able to see like this…

The rain outside seemed to grow heavier. She no longer believed something it was the effect of her mind being messed up after getting struck by peculiarly strong confounding charm.

This is physical, something is changing my body.

"Emerald? Are you alright?" Hermione's voice broke through the haze of Emerald's thoughts, startling her out of her spiraling contemplation. Emerald blinked, turning away from the rain-streaked window to see Hermione sitting beside, her brow furrowed in concern.

Opposite of her sat Neville, clutching a small cactus-like plant in a clay pot, his eyes wide and anxious. "You've been quiet since we left," Neville added, his voice soft but full of genuine worry.

Emerald realized she had been gripping the armrest of her seat so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She quickly released it and rubbed her fingers together, trying to shake off the tingling sensation. "I'm fine," she lied, forcing a weak smile.

Emerald wanted to. She wanted to spill everything—the sharpness of her sight, the ability to see in darkness, the sensation of power thrummign through her trembling hands, the feeling that something was wrong. But she couldn' bring herself to worry them over something at may as well be effect of her mind playing tricks on her.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. "It's nothing. Just... everything that happened with Lockhart, the basilisk..." Her voice trailed off. "I'm still getting my head around it."

"I have read that poison can sometimes have healing effects if one gets through it."

Hermione's brow creased further as she studied her. "Are you still worried about your eyesight improving? I mean, it's strange, sure, but maybe it's just a side effect. You were poisoned by basilisk venom, after all."

"Basilisk venom is deadly, Hermione," Emerald muttered, shaking her head. "There's no way it could've done something like this."

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes flicking over to Neville before returning to Emerald. "Well, I've read that sometimes venom can also work a cure, especially when paired with phoenix tears." She spoke carefully, her voice taking on the same tone she used when she was trying to reassure them before a difficult exam. "It's possible that the venom destroyed your body enough for the tears to recreate a huge chunk of it anew, stronger and healtier. That could explain why your vision is suddenly perfect."

Emerald nodded, but she wasn't convinced. Just as she opened her mouth to say more, something caught her eye. Her head turned instinctively, and her gaze shifted to the aisle beyond Hermione.

Her eyes widened.

Like a ghost, a girl glided silently down the train's passageway. Time seemed to slow as Emerald watched, holding her breath. The girl's long, silver hair trailed behind her, shifting as if caught in an invisible breeze. As she passed, the shadows around her seemed to deepen, stretch, and move, like they were somehow alive, responding to her presence. The air in the train car felt thick, heavy.

Emerald's heart pounded in her chest. Her fingers dug into the seat cushion as she stared, unable to look away.

But just as quickly as the girl appeared, she was gone. The shadows returned to normal, and the train continued to rumble beneath her feet as if nothing had happened.

"Emerald, are you even listening to me?" Hermione's sharp voice jolted her back to reality.

Emerald blinked, her gaze snapping back to Hermione, and the girl—whoever she was—had vanished completely. No sign she'd ever been there. The shadows were no longer moving, just the usual play of light and dark from the dim train lamps.

"I… what?" Emerald's voice was shaky. She tried to refocus, to clear her head, but the lingering sense of wrongness still clung to her. "Sorry, Hermione, I… I thought I saw something."

Hermione gave her a long, scrutinizing look, her brow furrowing deeper. "Emerald, you're worrying me. What did you see?"

Emerald swallowed hard. "I don't know. Maybe it was just my imagination." But she didn't believe that. The girl, the shadows… it had been real. It had felt real.

Neville shifted nervously in his seat. "You sure you're alright?"

Emerald forced herself to nod, but her hands were still trembling slightly. "Yeah. Just… tired, I guess."

Hermione's brow was furrowed in concern, and Neville looked anxious, clutching his cactus even tighter. "You've been zoning out a lot," Hermione pressed, her eyes narrowing. "Emerald, you're not… seeing things, are you?"

Emerald bristled immediately. "I'm not insane, Hermione," she snapped, the irritation bubbling up inside her. Everyone was telling her she was just imagining the weird things happening to her since she woke up in the hospital wing.

"I never said that!" Hermione shot back defensively, her face flushing slightly. "But you've been through so much, and now you're saying you're seeing things—"

"I saw something!" Emerald interrupted. "I don't know what, but I know it wasn't just in my head."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, her expression torn between concern and frustration, but before she could say anything, Neville's voice broke the awkward tension.

"What is that?"

Both girls turned to look at him. Neville was pointing toward the small table by the window. A black piece of parchment sat on it, one that none of them had noticed before. It was dark, almost blending into the shadows, but something about it drew the eye.

Emerald blinked. "Where did that come from?" she muttered under her breath.

Hermione leaned closer, frowning deeply as her eyes locked onto the strange parchment. A large, elaborate magic circle covered most of the surface, its intricate design filled with sharp, angular lines and symbols that looked ancient. But most striking of all was the dominating crest in the center—a four-winged bat-like figure with menacing horns.

"That wasn't there before," Hermione whispered, her voice tight with caution. She reached out slowly but stopped herself. Only for a moment as she under their eyes carefully flipped the leaflet over.

Emerald red aloud the shimmering silvery lines written on it "Pray and offer to the guiding star, and your wishes shall become true."

Just as the Hermione opened her mouth to speak, the train suddenly lurched, jerking them all in their seats. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels abruptly stopped.

Hermione, still holding the strange parchment, paused, her eyes darting toward the door. "What was that?"

Neville clutched his cactus tighter, his face pale. "Why did we stop? We're in the middle of nowhere."

Emerald felt a surge of anxiety and looked outside the window. Thick rain blanketed everything in a greyish haze. The rolling hills disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the rain. She gulped, her hand instinctively reaching for her wand, which was tucked securely inside her sleeve. After Quirrell had revealed Voldemort on the back of his head, and with Lockhart turning out to be a fraud, Emerald had learned to trust her instincts—paranoia wasn't always unjustified.

Outside the compartment, confused voices rose. The sound of compartment doors sliding open followed.

"Should we check it?" Neville mumbled, his voice quaking slightly as he clutched his potted plant tighter. Emerald exchanged a worried glance with Hermione.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the train corridor. Several pairs of them, accompanied by the unmistakable hiss of doors sliding open as they swiftly approached. Emerald gripped her wand tighter, her pulse quickening. Meanwhile, Hermione swiftly stowed away the black leaflet into the safety of her pocket.

Three figures in long red trench coats marched past their compartment, their gazes briefly sweeping over them. But another figure followed, this one covered in a purplish robe with a faceless metal mask that gleamed ominously in the dim light. The figure stopped, its mask turning toward them, its gaze seemed to drill into Emerald.

Emerald held her breath, her fingers still wrapped around her wand, ready for whatever might happen. She felt Hermione and Neville stiffen beside her.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally turned away, marching down the corridor, its presence leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Emerald let out a long, shaky breath, her hand finally loosening around her wand. Whatever it, it isn't my problem for the first time!

Hermione shook her head, her eyes still wide. "Who were they?"

Neville exhaled, his voice a shaky whisper. "I've heard about them before."

Hermione looked at him, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

Neville swallowed. "Aurors… and Unspeakables," he said, his voice barely audible. "My gran told me about them once. Some of them handle dark magic—secret stuff, things we're not supposed to know about. But they don't usually patrol like this." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "Something must've happened."

The silence in the compartment lingered for a moment longer before Emerald, trying to shake off the weight of the situation, forced a smirk and muttered, "For a second there, I thought they were here to kill me." She let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping the joke would ease the tension in the air.

Hermione, however, didn't laugh. Her brow furrowed deeper, and she looked at Emerald with concern. "That's not funny, Emerald. You really think like that?"

Emerald's smile faltered. "It was a joke, Hermione. Lighten up."

"Except… it's not really a joke, is it? You are still clenching your wand." Hermione pressed, crossing her arms, her eyes still fixed on her. "You've been acting paranoid ever since the hospital wing. Seeing things, thinking people are after you. You just said you thought they were here to kill you, and you say it like it's not that absurd."

Emerald's jaw clenched, and the familiar frustration bubbled up inside her again. "Well, maybe I am paranoid," she snapped. "But can you blame me?"

Neville shifted awkwardly in his seat, eyes darting between the two girls. "I think she meant—"

"No," Emerald cut in, her voice rising as she glared at Hermione. "I've earned the right to be paranoid. My own professor have poisoned me with a basilisk poison, Hermione! And let's not forget Quirrell and Voldemort and everything else! Every year something tries to kill me, and I'm supposed to just sit here and act like everything's fine?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the intensity of Emerald's response. "I didn't mean—"

"Of course you didn't," Emerald bit out, standing up from her seat. She could feel her heart racing, anger boiling over. "You think I'm crazy because I don't pretend everything's normal. Because I see something strange and actually take it seriously."

Hermione stood as well, her tone softer now, trying to calm the situation. "No one thinks you're crazy, Emerald. We're just worried about you. I'm worried about you."

"Well, I don't need your worry," Emerald snapped. "I need you to believe me when I say something's wrong."

Neville cleared his throat, trying to defuse the rising tension. "Er, maybe we should all just take a breath—"

The train's steady movement underneath them felt like it was speeding up—they have moved again.

"Whatever," Emerald muttered, turning away from Hermione and slumping back into her seat. "Let's just… drop it."

Neville, who had been nervously clutching his cactus the whole time, exhaled in relief at the apparent end of the argument. "Yeah… that's probably best."

Hermione sat back down too, though she kept glancing at Emerald, her concern still evident in her eyes. Emerald closed her eyes, the murky weather only reinforcing the feeling of exhaustion.