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"Lucifer."
"Yes, Maze?"
"What is that?"
"It's a human child. The Detective seems to enjoy taking care of hers, so I decided to acquire one."
"Does it… have a name?"
"Probably."
"Where did you 'acquire' it?"
"The girl I was shagging in London wasn't as interesting the second time around, and a giant on a flying motorcycle caught my eye. He deposited it on a doorstep, and flew off again! Honestly, the ways these humans leave their children laying about.”
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"You see, Harry, a properly tailored suit is essential to projecting power," Lucifer said, exiting the Bond Street Armani shop with seven-year-old Harry. "It tells people that you have something that they do not. We'll get you suits from Armani and Prada today, and decide which cut suits you better. I believe old Hugo still has his adherents today, but I prefer to avoid the association."
Harry nodded solemnly, taking Lucifer's hand as they strolled along the sidewalk.
"Harry Potter!" squeaked a voice. A short man in a purple velvet suit hurried forward and swept his purple top hat off his head as he bowed to Harry. "I can hardly believe my eyes! What an honor, young sir!"
"Excuse me, what are you bowing to him for?" demanded Lucifer. "Prince of Darkness here; I should think if you're going to bow to anyone it ought to be me."
The man squeaked again, higher than before, and drew out a thin stick. "Stupefy!" he cast.
A red light flew out of the stick and struck Lucifer on the shoulder. Lucifer rocked back slightly on his heels, then brushed his hand over his jacket to make sure it wasn't burned or damaged.
"Was that supposed to do anything?" Lucifer asked.
The man in purple gasped, his eyes getting wider. His hand trembled, but he tried again. "Incarcerous!"
Lucifer looked down at the ropes binding him, then looked up with a devilish smile. "Well, if that's what you were after, why not say so? Though I usually prefer to do this sort of thing after a few drinks and in the comfort of my own bedroom, don't you?"
Clearly at a loss, the man looked from Lucifer to Harry, who was patiently watching.
"Lucifer, you said I needed to get measured for a suit from Prada before we could have ice cream," Harry reminded him.
Lucifer promptly shredded the ropes. "So I did," he replied cheerfully. He held out his hand to the man in purple. "So sorry, we'll have to pick up some other time. I'm Lucifer Morningstar, and you?"
"D-d-daedelus Diggle," the man stammered, shaking Lucifer's hand.
"Excellent. Well, Mr. Diggle, I believe we have an appointment to keep. I'd tell you to call, but I don't actually want to bed you, so we'll just be on our way."
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As Harry stepped up onto the measuring platform, Lucifer disappeared off into the corner of the shop. Harry could hear giggles coming from the shop maid, and his father murmuring something about silk and feathers.
He was soon distracted as Madam Malkin began fluttering around him with a measuring tape, noting things down. She wasn't like his normal tailor at all, but instead kept up a steady stream of small talk as she measured.
There was another boy on the other stand. About his age, and also wearing excellently tailored clothes. The silver cuffs and collar picked up the blue of his eyes. He stared at Harry.
"I'm Draco Malfoy. Who are you?" He bowed slightly.
"Harry Morningstar. Are you also starting at Hogwarts?”
Draco’s brow furrowed. “Morningstar? I don’t think I’ve heard that name. But you’re American?”
“I was born here, but raised there. Who made your robe?”
“Twilligs and Co.” Draco preened. “My father only takes me to the best tailors. So what house are you looking to get into?”
“My father is choosy about tailors too. I don’t know much about the houses. What about you? What do you want?”
Harry met Draco’s eyes, and easily slid past them. He couldn’t make people say their desires out loud, like Lucifer could, but he could see it inside their heads regardless. There was a bit of resistance, here, but he pushed past it, and saw a swirling image of a tall, imperious man. His father. Fear, respect, envy, and love swirled together in Draco’s mind, here focusing around getting into Slytherin house. He pulled back out, and blinked to clear his vision.
“Slytherin,” came Draco’s response, belatedly. “My whole family’s been in Slytherin.”
“Maybe I’ll be there as well,” Harry responded, smiling. “I’ll see you shortly.” Although, given the terror of his own father in Draco’s mind, Harry wasn’t sure that he wanted to get to know the family.
Lucifer was coming out from the back room, the tell-tale tinge of lipstick still against his mouth. “We’re staying at the EDITION, love, if you want to catch me tonight for drinks.” He winked, and turned to Harry. “All done, Harry?”
Harry stepped down from the stand and followed him out. On his way, he passed Draco’s father, who narrowed his eyes at him. As he and Lucifer swirled out the front door into the busy streets, he heard the father's voice come from inside the store, just before the door closed behind them.
“Draco, were you talking to Harry Potter?”
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Lucifer always enjoyed shopping with Harry. The boy had impeccable taste, and his joie de vivre carried Lucifer from shop to shop as they added sports equipment, school equipment, and clothes. Lucifer always enjoyed shopping, but with Harry, it reached the sublime.
Of course, it couldn't always be perfect. Harry had made friends at Hogwarts, and he'd shown rather plebeian taste in his choice of companions. On this occasion, Harry wanted to buy school books with his friend Ronald Weasley. Unfortunately, this meant that Lucifer had to tolerate all the Weasleys, and there were far too many of them. Their group was also joined by Harry's friend Hermione Granger and her parents. While they were not as objectionable as the Weasleys, Lucifer kept forgetting that they were there.
Currently they were heading to Flourish & Blotts. Molly asked Lucifer if he was enjoying that Dad-awful sweater she gave him at Christmastime. Arthur was pestering him about some aspect of human technology, as if he would know. Ron was marveling over the new broom that Harry had purchased for him to take to Hogwarts, and Hermione was scolding him about not being foolhardy on it. Hermione's parents were there, too, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Lucifer couldn't imagine why.
There was a line stretching out the door, and a large sign proclaimed that Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books. They pushed their way past the crowd, with some mutters of "Pardon, just here for school books," and there Lucifer saw Gilderoy Lockhart, Defense Professor.
He was attractive, Lucifer admitted to himself. The man smiled brilliantly as he signed yet another book with a flourish, and chatted gaily with the next woman in line. She was attractive too. Lockhart didn't remind Lucifer much of the monster-hunting types he knew. None of them had brilliant smiles, or would put a hand over a lady's for a moment when taking a book from her hand. The man's clothing screamed wealth, not protection, and he was selling framed portraits of himself. What a good idea, Lucifer thought. Maybe Lux should sell those.
Gilderoy caught Lucifer's eye and winked. Harry had disappeared into the shop with his friends, and the other parents were milling about in the front hallway. There was a pause in the line as two women began yelling outside, and Lucifer drifted over to the table, leaned against a bookcase with one arm and extended the other.
"Lucifer Morningstar."
Gilderoy took it, meeting his gaze for a little too long. "Gilderoy Lockhart." Then, he looked askance for a moment. "Did you say Morningstar? Aren't you Harry Potter's father? Where's Harry? I'd love to get a picture with him -- two great defenders of the light."
Lucifer frowned. Dammit with these wizards, always interested in Harry. "What do you want with Harry?" He leaned forward slightly. "What do you want?"
"To become more famous, obviously, without having to put myself into any danger." Lockhart's smile faded. He hadn't intended to say that.
Just then, Lucifer heard a shout, and Molly yelling her husband's name. He turned away. Arthur and that obnoxious blond Malfoy fellow were inches apart. The shopkeeper watched, horrified, as Malfoy reached for Arthur.
Then, there was a crash, and a nearby bookcase toppled towards Malfoy, who quickly dodged out the way. Harry was staring at him, hair sticking on end, his face red. Malfoy drew his wand and advanced on Harry. "Think your petty little display of magic will drive me off, boy?" he growled, and raised his arm.
Lucifer stepped in front of him, taking the blow of some orange magic. He grabbed Malfoy's arm and squeezed, rubbing the bones in his wrist together. The wand dropped from his hand, and Lucifer pulled him closer as his face contorted with pain. The crowd in the shop stared in shocked silence.
"Never. Touch. Harry. Again."
Malfoy nodded, fear and fury combining in his eyes.
"What do you desire, Malfoy? What is it that you really want from us? Why don't you tell all these kind people here."
Malfoy hardened his gaze in that way that wizards can, but it did nothing. "I want to gain power and preserve my own power and my family's power for generations, no matter what it takes. Harry Potter threatens that."
Lucifer let Malfoy lean back, but still kept his grip on his forearm. "How petty of you. Also, do you have a cursed object on you? I'm rather adept at noticing curses, myself." Lucifer leaned in tight, his cheek brushing against Malfoy's, and reached into the pocket of his robes. "A cursed book! I wonder what this is. Arthur, you're a government type, right? Maybe you should deal with it." He tossed the book to Arthur, who was standing protectively in front of his wife and children.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I think that'll be all. What's it you Brits say? Cheerio?" He released the other man's arm and walked back to put his arm around Harry. He waved casually and tossed the assembled women a winning smile. "Cheerio, then."
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"What is your deepest desire?" Lucifer asked Luna gently, while Harry held her hand comfortingly.
"I wish the Nargles would leave me alone."
Lucifer looked to Harry, who shrugged.
"What exactly are… Nargles?" Lucifer asked cautiously.
Luna shuffled her feet, pulling her hand away to grab her other wrist, and took a few deep breaths. "When someone hates them they see hatred. When someone hates me, I see Nargles." She whispered under her breath, eyes clenched tight.
"Ah. Well then!" Lucifer said, cracking his knuckles as he stood. "Nargles I can deal with."
-----
"So you're Voldemort, are you?" Lucifer asked, smiling genially. "I've heard you also call yourself the Dark Lord, though obviously I'm the Dark Lord, but I don't mind finding you a title if you want one. You could be a Dark Earl. Or a Dark Baron, perhaps? We've got a couple of barons, I believe."
Voldemort's mouth hung open, his monologue fading away as he stared at the newcomer. After a moment he shook his head slightly, and glared. "Harry Potter's muggle guardian, I believe. Welcome. I'll deal with you shortly."
"Harry Morningstar, actually," Harry piped up. Voldemort hissed.
"I'm afraid I can't let you kill Harry," Lucifer replied, tugging Harry behind him. "I did want to ask you why you wanted to kill him, though. What is it that you desire?"
Voldemort snarled, trying to resist Lucifer's question.
"Hmmm?" Lucifer asked, leaning forward.
"I want.....I want to be special," Voldemort bit out. “I don't want to be like anyone else."
Lucifer rocked back on his heels, looking Voldemort up and down, clearly puzzled. "It seems to me you've done that," he pointed out. "I've never seen anyone commit themselves quite so strongly to the whole half-snake thing you've got going on. And by the way, I've seen photos of you from before all this; I'm fairly certain a good tailor and a haircut would have worked just as well. There was no need to go around killing people."
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort roared.
The spell tore through the air and hit Lucifer, knocking him to the ground and shredding his coat. He rolled onto his side and got up.
"No, sorry, that's not going to work," he said, examining the damage to his suit. "And my dry cleaner is going to struggle with this one. But really," he continued, "why bother with all this fuss? Killing people, hunting Harry, not to mention what you've done to yourself. You can't be particularly successful at the clubs, looking like that."
Voldemort raised his wand again, then gasped, staggered, and fell on his face. Maze stood behind him, holding one of her demon blades. She looked up.
"What?" she asked. "He was a pain in the ass. Can we get drunk now?"
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Lucifer escorted Harry out of the last of the tribunals. There had been many, but finally they were done, and the last of the Death Eaters had been sent to prison. Harry gave hugs to his friends (including nearly being smothered by Molly Weasley) before returning to Lucifer's side.
They made their way into the Atrium, the flash of photographers' spells reflecting in their eyes. Harry smiled widely for the cameras and adjusted his suit. Designer, of course. They made their way over to one of the public Floos, to return to Virtus, Lucifer's London nightclub and penthouse.
The party was already in full swing. Bottles of alcohol littered the tables. The remains of a tower of glasses, filled with Nox Virtutis, the house cocktail, sat waiting on a display table near the piano. Remus was sitting in the corner with Teddy on his knee as he chatted with Bill Weasley. Severus Snape sat in the corner, glowering at the pair. And all Lucifer had done was try to get him laid, which the man clearly needed. Lucifer's hired band was setting up in the corner. There were also plenty of others, dressed in clothes that were the wizards’ depressing idea of racy, downing drinks. And Harry’s friends, of course, waiting in the corner with the mocktails Mrs. Weasley had insisted he serve--Hermione and Ron and Luna and Neville and Ginny.
In the predawn light the last of the guests stumbled into the fireplace, drunkenly slurring their destinations. It had, Lucifer thought, been fun. And if more witches adopted that configuration Esmie had transfigured her robes into, he’d be more likely to come back to England.
Finally, the two of them were alone. Lucifer turned to Harry, meeting his eyes. "So. What do you want?"
Harry grinned. "To go home to Lux and be with my family, Dad."
Lucifer grinned back. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Don't do that compulsion thing on me again, Dad, or I'm gonna start wearing the sweater Mrs. Weasley gave me everywhere. All the time. It's lumpy. And bright red. And has a yellow H on the front."
Lucifer shuddered. "I remember." He took Harry's hand. "Well, then, let's go home."