Harry Potter: Altair Black. Son of Asmodeus

In the Hogwarts gardens.

"Auror Black! This is the second time your incompetence has harmed the Ministry." The veins in the Minister's neck looked ready to burst.

"I was careless, Minister. I regret my poor performance," he said, bowing slightly.

He didn't seem sorry at all. The minister flushed with anger. He wanted to imprison Sirius; he was a Black like Arcturus and Bellatrix, after all. And Peter was his friend. Maybe he had helped him escape.

Fudge had to stop thinking like that. Perhaps he could squeeze a few galleons out of Sirius to allow him to keep his position as Deputy Head Auror.

"How do you plan to make up for your failures, Lord Black?" He didn't even address him as an Auror. He was no longer speaking to his employee, but to the head of the Black family. Surely he could spare a few coins.

"I will submit my letter of resignation. I believe I am no longer fit to serve the Ministry. Besides, I have other duties as Lord Black. I am getting on in years," said the dark-haired man, trying to wipe the smile off his face.

The Minister's face went from anger to confusion to panic. Despite his recent failures, Black was one of the best Aurors in the field. Losing him would mean losing a powerful force in an already weak department. But what the minister feared most was the influence Black could wield on behalf of his family.

Since the arrest warrant for Arcturus Black had been issued, Sirius had been handling everything related to the Blacks. However, alongside his duties as an Auror, he didn't have much time to devote to building his influence.

"Sirius, my friend," he said, his tone changing completely. He gave him a friendly smile as he began to sweat coldly. "The mistakes..."

"I can't forgive myself, Minister," Black replied in a low voice. He wished he could say it was mocking, but it wasn't. He remembered the corpses left behind by his grandfather. "I'll continue working at the Ministry," he said, shaking his head. The dead don't come back to life. "Madam Bones needs my support," he finished, watching the Minister begin to tremble.

Fudge couldn't stop him as he left. Black didn't look at his former colleagues, who watched him with disdain, pity or contempt. His position as Minister was in jeopardy; he could sense it. Lucius was gone, and now Black supported Bones.

He shook his head. He had been an excellent minister and had nothing to worry about. "In times of peace, any fool can govern adequately," he recalled a Lord telling him when he had boasted of his successes. He remembered how everyone had stifled their laughter.

'I need to talk to Dolores.' Something had to be done about this.

He couldn't just sit there and wait to be removed from the position he had worked so hard to earn. It was his, and he intended to keep it for as long as possible. "Minister!" he heard a female voice call. "I have a message from Dumbledore," said the red-haired woman. Lily Evans — or was she Dumbledore now? "He requests that the Dementors be removed from Hogwarts with immediate effect. In light of how Pettigrew managed to get into the school, they have proven themselves useless." Fudge looked at her bitterly. They had had a few run-ins a few years ago.

"With Peter on the loose—"

"Peter can use his Animagus form to get in if he wants to, though I doubt he'll try again. Dumbledore will set up measures to detect Animagi. He is expected to withdraw the Dementors immediately." The woman bowed her head and left. Fudge watched her leave without waiting for a reply. He had a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't want to give in, but he also couldn't justify the resources required to keep the Dementors there. They were useless, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Withdraw the Dementors," he whispered to the group following him.

He walked with his head held high. It was as if nothing that had just happened was out of his control. Suddenly, he tripped over a rock and fell to his knees. He got up quickly. The Aurors didn't make a sound. They were too concerned about the consequences.

—

In his room in Ravenclaw. Altair couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he closed his eyes, his brain refused to shut down, whether it was adrenaline or anxiety. He replayed the battle over and over again: His mistakes, his successes, his near-death experience and what he had discovered. He looked at his hand.

It was bandaged, but thanks to Poppy's treatment and his own healing capacity, it wouldn't be long before it was fully healed. He focuses his attention on his uninjured hand. He sent pulses of magic through it and felt its strength. He conjured a dagger and gently stabbed himself. If he missed, he didn't want to have to go to the infirmary.

The blade of the dagger slid across his skin. His skin was hard enough to prevent superficial cuts. A few questions remained: How long could he keep it active? Could he do it anywhere on his body? What was his limit?

He tested it by hardening the skin on his forearm. Physically, there was a slight change: the muscles seemed more tense, as if preparing for battle. This time, instead of using the dagger, he cast a cutting curse with his wand. If it could withstand a bombardment, this shouldn't be much different.

And it wasn't. A red line appeared on his skin, but there was no pain or blood. In fact, it felt quite pleasant. Altair shook his head, deciding to leave that fetish to be investigated later.

He increased the brute force of the spell by applying more magic to it. The result was similar. He watched a drop of sweat fall onto his hand. Although he wasn't tired, he felt as if he had been jogging for a few minutes. He didn't have much control over his new ability yet, and his body wasn't used to it. Altair wondered if he would ever be able to use it on his entire body during a duel.

Even if he couldn't, it was still a useful tool. It was an element of surprise, at least. He didn't know if it was a common ability among magicians. He decided to consult his mother about it later.

Suddenly, he thought of the Sectumsempra spell. If he was to receive it now, would his body be able to resist it?

"What the hell are you doing?" An angry voice came from behind him. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" Harley's voice interrupted him.

"Kill myself?" he asked incredulously.

He surveyed his situation. There was a dagger at his side, and his wand was resting on his forearm. It looked suspicious.

"Mhm!" She hugged him from behind, her nails scratching his abdomen as she nibbled his ear. Altair made an effort not to moan. "Everything is okay?" she asked nicely, rubbing her head in his back.

It was curious how such small gestures could generate more pleasure than orgasms.

"I am okay. I was trying something," he said finally.

"With knives?" she asked, sounding curious. "Would you like me to use them on you?" Her whisper sent shivers down his spine.

"Harley?" He turned to face her. She smiled guiltily as he took her hands and raised them above her head. "This is not how a lady behaves, is it?"

"This one is your slave, Master. This one made a mistake, so you're going to punish her. Maybe you could put that dagger to this one neck if it can't take it all?" Her eyes burned with desire.

Hours ago, she had rewarded him for catching Peter. She said that little Harry could rest better now. His mother also seemed to have grown younger; yesterday, Lily looked like a young woman in her twenties, rather than the mother of four she was.

"I didn't know you had a thing for knives," he said, bringing his face close to hers. He pulled away when she tried to kiss him, earning himself a pout.

"I don't. But if you order me to, I'll hold it against my throat while you do whatever you want with me," she said.

"That sounds dark," 'a little disturbing even,' he thought.

"I'm yours. I'll do whatever you want," she said, smiling showing all her teeth. She looked happier than ever.

"Aren't you afraid?" His hand, covered in bandages, held her chin. It burned a little, but it was bearable.

"Of you? Never. You won't hurt me. I trust you," she replied. "And if you do, I'll enjoy it," she finished with a giggle.