People of Lucifer

Chapter 36. People of Lucifer

Narcissa was seated in her Wizengamot chair, eyeing the quickly filling chamber. Usually, this chair would be occupied by Draco since he had reached majority and taken over the family business and all other responsibilities. But presently, he was out of Avalon, forcing her to leave Hogwarts and attend the emergency evening session in his place.

Not that she minded. Like everyone else, she was anxious to know what had happened. First, it was the destruction of the wards, and then came the shocking news that the culprit was Harry Evans, the Minister's son. On top of that was the death of Daphne Greengrass and her demonification. If that was not enough, it was also said that the demonised Daphne had killed a hundred aurors before going down.

Narcissa would usually chalk up the numbers to exaggerated rumours, but the previous news had been just as fantastical. She didn't know what was true anymore.

"Daphne was such a promising girl. She will be missed dearly," Mrs. Parkinson said, passing her condolences to Mrs. Greengrass.

As one would expect of a grieving mother, Tina was devastated. She wore a plain black robe, not bothering to put any effort into her appearance. Dark circles framed her sorrowful eyes, and her pale complexion had turned paler. Not that any of these mattered in the end; her natural beauty couldn't be hidden—a curse she had carried since her youth, attracting attention she had never sought. Even now, in her deepest sorrow, her radiance was undeniable.

Tina nodded dully at Mrs. Parkinson's commiserating gesture, her dead blue eyes trained on the entrance of the chamber, waiting for the Minister's arrival like her life depended on it, desperately waiting for answers.

"Is it true? Is Daphne really disfigured into a demon?"

Tina froze at those words, her eyes widening and a strangled gasp escaping her lips. She clutched her chest, her face contorting in anguish, a sob tearing out of her throat like a sword through a gaping wound.

"Mrs. Parkinson!" Narcissa hissed, scandalised, placing her arm around the crying mother, her glare filled with murderous intent.

The sheepish gossip scurried away to her seat.

Narcissa was aware of all the stares on them. She wished Tina hadn't come today to become a spectacle; she wished Tina could have processed her grief in the privacy of her home. Then again, she herself would have wanted answers if her son had been killed by a mysterious phenomenon.

"Mum," Tracey hurried towards them from the public gallery, having witnessed the distressing exchange.

Tina latched onto her remaining daughter, unable to stop anymore, sobbing uncontrollably while everyone else in the chamber looked away, awkward and sympathetic. The room was heavy with sorrow, the air thick with her despair. Tina's wails echoed off the cold stone walls, a haunting sound affecting everyone. Her grip on her daughter was desperate, as if letting go would mean losing her too.

The pain in her heart-wrenching cries was so intense that many of the women felt their throats close up, biting back their own tears. Some held their hands to their mouths, their eyes shimmering, while others grabbed the armrests of their seats, unable to bear the raw agony emanating from Tina.

In that chamber, filled with the echoes of Tina's sobs, it was as if the air itself was mourning. The weight of her sorrow pressed down on everyone like a downpour, leaving them silent, helpless witnesses to a mother's unbearable loss.

Narcissa consoled her while her own eyes got moist.

Tina's life was a tragedy once again. Years ago, her family had been slaughtered in a Death Eater raid. She was raped and forced to marry her own abuser. Then she bore a child from that trauma as a souvenir, birthing Daphne. And while many would have held negative feelings, she was a far gentler woman, loving and raising that child by herself instead, finally free from the shadow of Harold Greengrass.

But life decided to treat her unfairly, like it had a personal grudge against her. She lost that daughter, the one she had always cared for. Her only biological child. Her only real family. Not only that, if rumours were true, Daphne's body was morphed into a demon's grotesque form. Tina would bury that body rather than her daughter's true one, unable to carry out even the last rite of passage properly.

Only a heartless person wouldn't be affected by her misfortune.

The sound of approaching footsteps made everyone turn to the door. And there they came, the ones who would give answers.

Minister Potter and his assistant, Brenda Strongheart, took their designated seats beside Amelia Bones and beneath Dumbledore in a separate section from the rest of the Wizengamot members. Harry Evans and his mother stayed on the floor. The boy, no, not a boy anymore; the man stood with his back straight and his face impassive. His mother's posture, on the other hand, was confident and serious, almost to the level of arrogance. Dressed in a flattering red gown, she quickly became the centre of attention. And if the quirk of her lips were any indication, she revelled in it.

Harry's eyes fell on them, on Tina and Tracey, his blank face giving way to emotions. Narcissa could feel his guilt and self-loathing even from here. Understandable. He was Daphne's partner, after all, however briefly. He must be tormented by 'what ifs'.

"Order in the Wizengamot chamber. Everyone, take your seats so we can proceed with the emergency session." Dumbledore brought down the gavel, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

Narcissa saw Tracey whisper assurances in her mother's ear before returning to the public gallery, where only the reporters and the close family of the deceased were allowed to stand. But that didn't mean the entire Avalon wasn't watching. Far from it, various cameras from different angles broadcasted this session live throughout the island, and she would bet that everyone was glued to their tellys.

"Thank you for your kindness, Miss Black," Tina said softly, not waiting for her response and fixing her eyes on Harry. There was more than a little anger and despair in her gaze.

He visibly flinched, while his mother scowled and glared back.

Narcissa's eyebrows climbed up. Lily was being rude. Harry might not be guilty of anything. Maybe Daphne's death had nothing to do with him. But one could still spare a little sympathy and turn a blind eye to a grief-stricken mother's temper. But the redhead didn't seem to possess such grace. Then again, she would expect nothing else from a filthy barbarian who liked to throw punches at others when angry.

"First, I would like to announce that the wards are back to full power. Avalon is safe and hidden once more," the Minister declared to audible sighs of relief.

She wondered how much damage had already been done. Was the exact location of their country still unknown, or had it been revealed? She didn't think he would answer that.

"Second, I can confirm and dispel some rumours," he said, looking down at the pair of mother and son. "Auror Daphne Greengrass was taken down once she turned into a demon. Yes, it really happened. It was a pyrrhic battle. Not only were we forced to eliminate our own, the debacle also claimed the lives of another fourteen aurors."

There were no sharp intakes of breath or gasps of shock. The rumours had already prepared them for such tragic news.

"Upon returning to the Transportation chamber from his mission, Auror Evans found his partner dead and disfigured into a demon." He glanced at Tina softly. "Struck by grief and desperation, he scooped up her body and apparated directly to Saints' Mungo, shattering the island's wards in the process, overpowering the restriction."

If it wasn't such a dangerous move, she would've been impressed by the sheer power Harry possessed. There were only a few others who could do that. Probably only Dumbledore and Minister. But this single act had jeopardised their country, even if the Minister wouldn't accept that publicly. She wondered if he would punish his own son. Personally, she would let Harry go with a slap on the wrist. It was merely a reckless move by a young man overwhelmed with grief, however disastrous.

"I would punish Auror Evans, even if this was just an error borne out of desperation to save his partner's life," the Minister said frankly, mirroring her thoughts and shooting a critical look at his son. "But we have bigger problems to deal with. I have been informed that we now face a heavenly enemy. And if he has his way, we all will suffer a fate similar to our martyred Auror Greengrass."

Narcissa frowned, an expression reflected by everyone.

Heavenly enemy? What's that?

"Brenda, if you will, please." He gestured to his assistant, who clicked a button on her desk.

A white screen rolled down on the far wall, behind Harry and Lily.

"I expect absolute silence as we review this memory. Any questions must wait until it finishes. For context, I personally tasked Team Tonks with scouring all the orphanages in London to find magical orphans. This memory captures their visit to one such orphanage."

Narcissa's eyes grew wide. That was a brilliant idea. While they couldn't snatch muggleborns from their parents, taking magical orphans and giving them a better life was a genius initiative. Why hadn't anyone tried this before?

Shaking her head, she focused on the memory.

It wasn't the first time this technology had been used to project memories on a screen, so everyone fell silent and watched intently.

"You know, this is where Tracey used to live before you took her in."

"I know. She shared more than a few horror stories. A part of me wants to burn it all down to the ground."

The screen showed Harry and Daphne walking towards a mansion.

She winced as Tina let out a hiccuping sob, whispering her daughter's name, her expression a mix of amazement and heartbreak at seeing Daphne moving and talking.

Narcissa applied a silencing charm on her to contain her cries, hoping she wouldn't take offence. If Tina kept wailing like this, the Minister would be forced to remove her.

Having saved her friend from getting thrown out, she turned back to the screen.

The video quickly revealed the relationship dynamics between Harry and Daphne. Narcissa now had no doubt that they got along well and were on friendly terms, if not outright close, as evidenced by their familiar bantering and playful shoving.

The two entered the mansion, and she realised it was a hybrid of a church and orphanage as children spilled out after their morning prayer.

Harry approached the nun, who was standing on a platform on the other side of the room.

"Long time no see. Do you remember me?"

"Harry? Tracey's best friend?"

"Yep, that's me."

Narcissa could feel the terror in the nun's posture, her rigid stance and trembling hands betraying the fear she was trying to hide.

"Why are you here? Go away before he comes. Go away if you value your life. I know what you are, what Tracey is. Leave, now!"

The chamber was suddenly filled with soft murmurs as they realised the muggle nun was aware of their world—that she knew about the existence of wizards and witches.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice brought momentary silence.

"I don't know what you think we are. I don't know the man you fear. But fine, we'll leave. Just give us Daniel. He's Linda's twin; I'm sure you know them. We've been tasked with relocating these children to a more suitable environment. Here's the required paperwork."

"He is not here. The boy is no longer here."

"Then where is he?"

"He is with the Lord."

She watched on, feeling trepidation crawl over her skin like a swarm of ants. In the video, Daphne appeared confused by the euphemism. But here, in the chamber, everyone understood what had happened.

That damn cult killed their magical child—a small, innocent soul—simply because he was different. She wasn't the only one simmering in anger. Murmurs had intensified once again—angry, rage-filled murmurs.

"Silence!" Dumbledore yelled, his gavel slamming down loudly.

The people somehow bit back their fury and kept watching the screen.

"I sent him to God, where he will be cleansed of his taint and allowed a better existence."

She narrowed her eyes as an unusually tall priest walked into the church, seeming to accept the role of child killer without any guilt.

"I didn't know mere priests are allowed to kill children nowadays? What is this, the Dark Ages?" Harry said, standing protectively before Daphne as the nun scampered away.

Narcissa looked down at the real Harry, who was also watching the memory with a pained look on his face. She felt sorry for him; it was clear that he was the one most affected by whatever happened to Daphne.

"But I am no mere priest, devil child. I am Archangel Michael, the Champion of Justice and the Protector of the Church."

…

…

In an instant, the chamber erupted with shocked shouts and voices demanding answers, the atmosphere thick with fear and disbelief.

More than half of the people here knew what an archangel was—who Michael was. It was nearly impossible not to have heard about the mythical figures depicted in that muggle book.

"Silence," the Minister said softly before Dumbledore could use his gavel. An overpowering pressure descended upon them, forcing them to snap their mouths close or face his wrath. "It will take too long if you keep interrupting the memory every other minute. Now, anyone who speaks before the memory finishes will be removed."

She found it unreasonable that he expected them not to react to such revelations. Nevertheless, she kept quiet and fixed her gaze on the screen. On this heavenly enemy.

"This is a church, the domain of God, bestowed with an abundance of holy energy. I'm afraid your dark contraptions won't work here, nor will any of your devilry. Surrender, and I'll make this painless. I'll give you to the light."

An instinctive fear coiled around her heart at the thought of losing her magic. That was every magical's worst nightmare. She saw the archangel's boast come true when the portkey didn't work as Harry tried to send Daphne to safety.

"So you're the brother of Lucifer. He didn't have anything good to say about you. Now I know why."

Many people gasped at his statement. How did Harry know Lucifer? Did the devil even exist? Well, if the archangel was real, she didn't see why he couldn't. Perhaps it was just a tactic to buy time—a lie, she thought hesitantly. But no, his words rang true and purposeful. He was talking as if he had actually met him.

"You have met him? You know where Lucifer is hiding? Tell me, and I'll consider sparing you."

Instead of answering, Harry gathered Daphne in his arms and dashed out at an inhuman speed, almost becoming a blur to the naked eye, knowing he couldn't use magic in the church, knowing he had to get out.

Narcissa shot him an admiring look—such power, speed, and grace, along with such mental fortitude. She wouldn't lie; she would've lost all her courage and given up once she realised she couldn't use magic. But he remained strong and kept trying to find ways to save themselves.

But they weren't safe yet. And if anyone had doubts about the archangel's claims, then they were gone as the screen showed him bursting out of the mansion with his wings unfurled, flying over the two aurors.

"You're fast, but are you faster than light?"

Narcissa closed her eyes as bright golden light blinded the screen. When she opened them again, Harry was lying atop Daphne on the grassy lawn outside the mansion, covering her with his body.

"Go, wait for me in the Transportation Chamber. I'll be back once I take care of him."

"Wait! Harry—"

Daphne was gone; the portkey worked now that they weren't in the church.

Narcissa wondered why Harry stayed behind instead of tagging along with Daphne. Fighting a mythical being head-on was stupid and suicidal. But he did survive, didn't he? He was here, after all. That meant he either defeated him, which was ludicrous; or he fled, which was most probable.

But above all else, she was stupefied by Daphne. When did she turn into a demon? Harry had succeeded in saving her. Right?

Perhaps it was that golden light that poisoned her. But if it indeed was, then why wasn't Harry affected?

She decided to keep watching instead of getting lost in her head.

The archangel ordered the children to get inside as the two faced each other.

She stifled a gasp as Harry kicked the ground and launched himself into the sky, flying without a broom under the dark clouds. There had been only one man who had accomplished such a feat: the Dark Lord, whose very name inspired dread.

She was starting to realise that all the articles about him weren't exaggerations. Harry was indeed a magical titan, maybe even more powerful than Dumbledore and the Minister.

"Why are you here in this world? For Lucifer?"

Now there was no doubt that Harry was actually acquainted with Lucifer. Also, this world? Did that mean there was more than one world? She wanted to raise her hand like a schoolgirl and scream her question. But she wasn't foolish enough to challenge the Minister's order.

"Yes, my brother needs to return and face the consequences of disobeying Father. But that's not all. This world is so fragile and empty. There are no gods here, no divine realms. So I see it as my duty to spread the gospel and introduce this world to their God. But that also entails protecting these people. And that also means I must eradicate every last one of you."

…

…

Almost. People almost began to murmur before the pressure returned two-fold, pressing on their backs and reminding them to be quiet.

"We don't need you, foreigner. We don't need your God. We don't need your endless wars. We don't need this world to match yours. Just go back to where you came from and leave us in peace."

"Foreigner? Says the devil child. But you are not from here either, are you? At least not entirely."

…

…

"Minister! What is happening? Is your son really a devil child? Is he even your son? Is he an alien?"

Narcissa winced as an invisible force plucked the screaming man and tossed him outside, closing the door on his face.

"We are all devil children. We are all his descendants. Now, no more questions. We will continue this afterwards," the Minister said, unpausing the memory.

She wanted to shriek like a banshee. It was unfair. How were they expected to keep their mouths shut when they were getting bombarded by life-changing secrets every other minute? They were just told that their magic came from the devil, that they were half-foreigners to this world. Because apparently, there was another world where Lucifer lived under God.

"I was born here. I will die here. I am from here."

And then Harry and the archangel were fighting in the sky, a storm of holy spears and earth-shattering lightning, somehow dodging and surviving the deathly exchange without a scratch.

Once the round was over, they hovered in front of each other.

"Tell me why my light did not affect your soul? Why did you not mutate? Are you a devil child or not?"

"Maybe you're too weak. Yeah, that's it."

The mystery was solved. It was really the light that mutated Daphne into a demon. She grimaced at his confidence. It wasn't the archangel who was weak; it was Harry who was unprecedentedly strong. Unfortunately, Daphne didn't have such power and was a victim of that cruel holy light.

She flinched when Harry was sent hurtling to the ground with a kick. And it wasn't only her who sighed in relief when he turned the plummeting fall into a glide, landing on his feet while the archangel loomed in the sky menacingly.

"You still have a chance. Tell me where Lucifer is, and I'll spare you."

The chamber was struck with deafening cheers when Harry apparated right before the archangel and kicked him in the face, sending him flying through the clouds, creating a literal hole in the sky, letting sunlight rush in and illuminate a section of the city below. And yes, she was cheering at the top of her lungs too.

She glanced at the Minister, expecting the pressure to crush them all this time for forcing him to pause the memory again. But he wore a proud smile and resumed the memory without throwing everyone out of the chamber.

The fight between the 'devil child' and the archangel was nail-bitingly thrilling. They traded blow after blow, each trying to kill the other. But they were nearly evenly matched, with the archangel being only slightly more powerful.

The end came when Harry managed to get close to the archangel, albeit in a suicidal way. He took the spear in his gut, and instead of apparating away, he pushed himself forward through the shaft, to cup the archangel's face.

Then he simply said 'die'.

She was both in awe and more than a little confused as the archangel's body crumbled and he fell like a clipped bird.

What was that power?

Anyways, the archangel was finally dead. Harry Evans killed a divinity. She looked down at him in reverence. She had been a fool to compare him to Dumbledore and the Minister. Harry Evans was not a mere wizard; no, he was a god in flesh. A literal god-killer. Where James Potter was the reincarnation of King Arthur, Harry was far above that. He was the sliver of infinity. Their own godling.

Before anyone could celebrate, their joy at Harry's accomplishment vanished, as the memory kept playing, as the dead archangel healed and rose to his feet.

"What the fuck?"

"What do you take me for, devil child? A mortal who is destined to die? You can manipulate the soul, I see. A dangerous power, a disgusting ability. I will be careful and won't underestimate you further."

The screen became blank after that.

The memory was over.

Then came hundreds of questions yelled at once. She was ashamed to say she was among them.

The Minister's presence pressed down on them again, forcing them to hold fast to their seats, bringing much-needed silence to the Wizengamot.

"I know you have many questions, understandably so. But we cannot answer all at once. Raise your hands and wait for your turn."

And so began the questioning. It went for half an hour, during which he answered everyone's questions.

Yes, there are many worlds. Yes, it is a multiverse. Yes, really, we are all the descendants of the devil. Yes, Lucifer is alive and is overseeing a very important task. Yes, Michael is truly immortal. And so forth.

When it was her turn, she asked two questions. "How are we going to kill the archangel when he is immortal? Do we have to forever live in fear of him breaching the wards and turning us into mindless demons? Also, is the massacre of Hogsmeade connected? It was razed by demons, after all. Was it a punishment by Lucifer for forgetting him?"

While everyone else directed their questions to the Minister, her gaze was on Harry, and her words were aimed at him.

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry said softly. "If I have to tear through heaven and kill God Himself to eliminate Michael, I'll find a way to do it."

She nodded jerkily, unable to doubt his words.

"I will answer the second question." Lily stepped forward, squeezing her son's shoulder and meeting her gaze. "No, this incident is not connected with the Hogsmeade massacre. That tragedy was caused by a stray demon. Lord Lucifer isn't like the muggle God. He doesn't expect devotion, but he won't say no to it. He will not punish unbelievers, but he won't mind bestowing gifts on his devotees."

"How do you know all these?" She couldn't help but ask, intrigued by the adoration in her tone.

Did Lily and Harry actually meet their ancestor?

Lily smiled and snapped her fingers. "Because our Lord Lucifer said so."

The space before her shimmered like a mirage, and a stunning dark-haired woman materialised, her otherworldly features contorted with pain. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees with a thud, her hands cruelly bound behind her back with rough, knotted ropes.

Before Narcissa could blink, Dumbledore had already flamed before the demon, and his wand pointed at her. "Belphegor."

It was all too chaotic and happened in an instant.

The demon broke free of her bonds with a screech and tried to shove her clawed fist into Dumbledore's chest, his spells fizzling before they could even strike her.

Harry jumped in and shoved him away, exposing his back to Belphegor.

"Behind you!" Narcissa screamed along with others, jumping to her feet, knowing she was too far and too slow.

But there was no need to fear.

The demon was suddenly jerked back as a glowing black sphere formed over Lily's open palm. The air around it whipped this way and that, as the ball of darkness tried to suck in everything. Even though it was only targeted at Belphegor, Dumbledore lost his balance and lied down on the floor, trying to resist its sheer vacuum. With a sharp whoosh of wind, the demon was swallowed into the ball, blood and flesh getting mangled as it devoured her whole.

The red stains on Lily's face were the only evidence that Belphegor ever existed.

"I was once without magic," Lily said, waving her hand to wandlessly clean herself, "but now Lord Lucifer has granted me another chance. He has revitalised my body with magic. He has given my son immense power, choosing him as his successor. He made us his champions. I, his shield, his nun, his devotee; and my son, his sword, the protector of his people. Rejoice, Avalon, for we are not alone. We never were. Lord Lucifer is watching over us, and he has already declared us victorious in the upcoming war."

Narcissa didn't even know when she dropped to her knees and kneeled subserviently. Her body was warm, so enticingly warm, as if the flames of imaginary hearth cocooned her from head to toe. Everyone was in a similar position, even the Minister and Dumbledore. The only ones left standing were Harry and Lily, their forms bathed in a dark light, making them seem unreal.

"We won't die; the people of Lucifer won't be eradicated. My son will save you. My son will protect you. My son will kill the godling. Like he already did. And this time, Archangel Michael will be killed completely. Hail Lucifer! Our Father!"

"Hail Lucifer!"

"Our Father!"

~xXxXx~

The funeral of Daphne was a grim and lonely affair.

At the request of Tina Greengrass, his father discarded the idea of making it a big event in her honour, keeping it small and private.

And here Harry was, one of the very few who were invited.

He didn't know how to feel about that.

As he floo-ed to the manor, he was greeted by Tina and Tracey. He kept his emotions in check, dusting his clothes and approaching them nervously.

Both were dressed in identical black gowns, their hair pulled back in a tight bun. As expected, they looked exhausted to their cores, with dark crescents marking the skin under their eyes like permanent tattoos.

Before he could say something, before he could apologise, Tina draped her arms around him. "It was not your fault. Thank you for trying your best."

His eyes blurred, his throat closed up, his grip tightened around her, and he broke. Like a worn panel of wood, dried and brittle, he cracked abruptly. The cries that bubbled out of him were misery and rage personified—harsh, melancholic, muffled against her neck, triggering their own sadness.

Tina sobbed out loud, clutching him like a lifeline, and Tracey pressed against him from behind, holding on tight.

It was the first time all his sadness seeped out. It was the first time he felt empty… but content.

It was the first time that guilt would finally loosen the noose around his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

A.N. I had these three chapters in my docs since forever. Didn't see any reason not to post them now that I have decided to discontinue it. And it's the perfect time to officially declare the hiatus. Honestly, I love the idea of the fic but I feel the execution had been very subpar. Presently, I'm thinking of turning this into an original story. We will see how that turns out. Thank you for reading it until now, and I apologize for not giving an ending.