Lucifer

Chapter 2

October, 1959

    The first shot of the year in the ongoing battle between Gryffindor and Slytherin was fired by one Arthur Weasley, fifth year. His defense, if he'd been asked, would have been that Lucius Malfoy's hair annoyed him.

    It was, as he'd said before, a way for the old purebloods' offspring to flaunt their status. These were people who never ever saw muggles, who could be as different as they wanted, who could have hair down to their ankles because they had house elves and servants to tend it, who used spells to tie their shoes and button their robes. There were about twenty pureblooded boys who affected the long hair, but Malfoy was the tallest, best looking, and most arrogant. His hair never snarled or fell in his face, just draped there obediently and made all the girls in Gryffindor forget what they were saying when he walked by with it falling down his back, eyecatchingly white blond against the black school robe.

    Including Molly Prewitt, who Arthur had been trying to ask out to Hogsmeade, damn it. He flubbed it again, and annoyed her by snapping and walking off, so annoyed with Lucius bloody Malfoy for existing that he couldn't see straight.

    Arthur had been experimenting with this particular spell over the summer, and was anxious to give it a trial run. He aimed the spell and whispered it barely under his breath. "Nodorum lente et clanculum", and watched the strands of long straight blond hair begin to tie themselves in knots. Hair by hair. Very slowly, so that he wouldn't notice. It was looking good, and Arthur felt warm pride rise in his chest.

    No one noticed until the end of class, a full hour later. And then it was Gil Parkinson who saw it. "Good God, Lucius, what the hell happened to your hair?"

    Arthur couldn't help it, he began laughing. Lucius ran a hand over his ponytail, stopped as he felt the knot it had snarled itself into, and let his hand fall. "Quite amusing, Weasley," he said, and his tones were cold. "I'd think before you do things like that, though. The consequences can be... annoying."

    Lucius was late to Potions that afternoon, but his hair was back to normal. Arthur was, despite himself, impressed. He apparently really was as good with charms as rumor had it.

    "Impressive, Weasley," he said, as he walked by his desk, trailed by Rookwood, after getting the necessary ingredients out of the storeroom for the practical. "I thought you'd like to know that even with a counter charm it took three hours to sort out."

    "Yeah, cleverness like that will get you a job with the ministry. I bet you might even make enough to buy new trousers," said Rookwood, and sniggered in that highly annoying way he had. Arthur stared at him and concentrated on NOT hitting the bastard. He'd grown another inch, and the let down marks on his trousers were quite visible, as his robe was also a bit too short. He was quite sensitive about the financial issues that had hit his family after his father's death.

    "Go fuck yourself, Rookwood, " Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "Or pretty Malfoy here, you can pretend he's a girl."

    "Do it again and I'll tie your entrails into knots, Weasley," said Lucius, quite calmly and seriously. "I think it would be equally amusing. And it's not like there aren't plenty of redheaded Mugglefuckers to carry on the line."

    "Mr. Malfoy, I trust that what you're discussing with Mr. Weasley is related to the potion you're preparing," said Professor Keriell serenely but pointedly. Malfoy smiled slightly and walked back to his seat. Arthur sat down in his seat and let Gordon Longbottom do the rest of the potion while Arthur concentrated on not walking over and breaking that lovely aristocratic nose, detention be damned.

    "This is a Wit-Sharpening potion, " the professor said. "Consequently you will each sample your own potion and write a foot on the observed effects."

    Arthur's looked good. He shrugged, dipped out a dose, and drank it. He and Gordon did this alternately, so as to keep them from both being incapacitated at once....they'd share notes and both write it up. Nothing happened this time, though, and by the time he was in Ancient Runes, he could tell he'd done the potion right. His mind felt clear, and for a change he was following Professor Kniess's lecture easily. Normally he had to work at it.

    "I say, Arthur, " said Ralston, as they stepped out of the classroom. "Nice hair. Embracing your heritage?"

    "What ever do you mean?" Arthur said, and reached a hand up to his head. Instead of feeling his shortcropped hair, he touched long strands. Oh, bloody hell. He turned, and saw Lucius Malfoy standing there, a cold and nasty smile touching his lips. He looked at him consideringly, then shook his head.

    "No, even growing your hair out doesn't make you look like a trueblood, Arthur. Nice try, though. Do have fun with it. "

    He deflected the hex Arthur shot at him smoothly, and smiled. "Temper. Dueling in the halls is forbidden, I believe."

    "It is indeed," said Adrian Mulciber, Slytherin prefect. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley."

    And they were gone. Arthur swore and headed back to the dorm to cut his hair. He went to dinner with short hair, but by the end of the meal it was brushing his shoulders again. He had to admit it was an impressive job of work, especially when you considered that the potion that had done this had had to be concealed in the Wit-Sharpening Potion without changing its color, taste, or effect, or creating anything toxic. When he woke tangled in knee-length hair, he was less charitable, especially with the teasing he endured for the full three days it lasted.

    He didn't mention it to Evadne, although she knew. Everyone knew. From her sparkling eyes she thought it was funny...and, he had to admit, it was....but at least she wasn't laughing at him as they wrote their papers on the advantages of using staves over stones for Ancient Runes.

    She'd turned into a pretty girl, he admitted. A good figure under the robes, tall, and exotic looking with her olive skin and strong features, surrounded by the dark curls that she kept out of her face with an Alice band. And he knew she was intelligent and had a wickedly fun sense of humor. But she never accepted invitations to socialize anywhere else, and he knew better than to ask her out. She was dedicated to her work, to her studies, and lived an austere life that was more inside books than out. It was a pity she wasn't in Ravenclaw. But she was careful to do nothing to antagonize her housemates, and dating him would have done that. Still, it was a great pity that she buried herself so deeply in work.

    "What did you tell the Sorting Hat?" he asked her one day. She frowned at him.

    "What do you mean?" she said.

    "When you were under the Sorting Hat, what did you say to it? You belong in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin."

    "I didn't say anything," she said. "It knew what I wanted, and asked me what I'd do to get it."

    "And you said?"

    Her eyes scared him slightly when she looked him full in the face. "Anything. And I still would. And that's why I"m in Slytherin."

    This time he was the one to drop his eyes, and turn them back to their homework. He never asked again.