Alaric stared at him for what felt like an eternity, his hand frozen halfway to his bourbon glass like some sort of supernatural statue. The amber liquid caught the afternoon light streaming through his office windows, casting golden shadows across the enrollment paperwork scattered across his mahogany desk—paperwork that suddenly seemed laughably inadequate for the situation at hand. He blinked once, twice, then slowly completed the motion, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a very deliberate, very necessary sip.
"You're actually him," he said finally, his voice carrying that carefully controlled tone that came from years of dealing with the impossible and trying to maintain some semblance of professional dignity while doing it. "You're actually the Devil."
Lucifer's smile was absolutely radiant, the kind of expression that could have launched a thousand ships or convinced Eve to try that apple—brilliant, slightly amused, and carrying just enough dangerous charm to make sensible people reconsider their life choices. He adjusted his perfectly tailored cufflinks with practiced ease, the gesture somehow managing to convey both casual elegance and barely contained supernatural power.
"Lucifer, please," he said, his British accent lending an air of sophisticated authority to the correction, as if he were gently explaining proper wine etiquette rather than correcting someone's use of his eternal title. "The Devil is so... loaded, don't you think? Very Old Testament. Fire and brimstone, eternal damnation, pitchforks—terribly gauche. I prefer to think of myself as cosmically misunderstood."
He settled into one of the leather chairs across from Alaric's desk with fluid grace, somehow managing to make the simple act of sitting look like performance art. Every movement was calculated perfection, from the way he crossed his legs to the angle at which he tilted his head. Even relaxed, he radiated the kind of dangerous charisma that had been convincing humans to make questionable life choices for millennia.
"Though I suppose after that entrance," he continued, gesturing vaguely toward the spot where he'd materialized through what Alaric could only assume had been some kind of dimensional portal, complete with theatrical lighting effects and what might have been celestial choir music, "we can dispense with the skepticism and move on to more practical matters. Unless you'd like another demonstration? I could do something with flames, though your sprinkler system might object."
"Practical matters," Alaric repeated slowly, wondering if this was what a complete nervous breakdown felt like and if there was a specific form he needed to fill out for his insurance company. He'd dealt with vampires, werewolves, witches, and even the occasional Original, but apparently his supernatural education had some rather significant gaps. "Right. Because having the actual Devil—sorry, *Lucifer*—show up in my office to discuss school enrollment is just another Tuesday at the Salvatore School."
"Well, technically it's Thursday," Lucifer pointed out with obvious delight, as if this minor correction was the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all day. "But I do appreciate the sentiment. Really, the casual acceptance of cosmic absurdity is quite refreshing. You'd be amazed how many people faint at this point in the conversation."
"Give me time," Alaric muttered, taking another sip of bourbon and seriously considering whether one glass was going to be anywhere near sufficient for this conversation. "I'm a slow processor."
Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and genuinely amused. "Oh, I do like you already, Dr. Saltzman. Such delightful dry wit in the face of existential crisis. No wonder this school has such an excellent reputation."
"Our reputation is mostly 'only burns down occasionally' and 'supernatural casualty rate declining,'" Alaric replied dryly, already sensing that this conversation was going to test every crisis management skill he'd developed over the years. "But I suppose that's something. Now, about these children you want to enroll..."
"Ah yes, the children's enrollment, primarily," Lucifer said, his expression growing more serious though the underlying warmth remained. "As I mentioned before my rather dramatic demonstration of credentials—and really, I do apologize for the theatrics, but first impressions are so important—they're rather extraordinary, and I believe they could benefit from the structured environment and social interaction your school provides."
His expression grew genuinely concerned, almost parental in a way that seemed oddly touching coming from the Prince of Darkness. "However, I also believe you have the right to know exactly what you'd be taking on before making any decisions. Informed consent and all that. I've found that surprises, particularly supernatural ones, rarely improve educational outcomes."
Alaric nodded slowly, his hunter training finally kicking in to help him process the impossible. Years of dealing with supernatural crises had taught him that when reality took a hard left turn into the bizarre, the best strategy was to gather information, assess threats, and adapt accordingly. The fact that he was apparently negotiating with the actual Prince of Darkness was just... a very extreme example of the principle.
"Alright," he said, settling back in his chair and adopting what he privately thought of as his 'crisis management' posture. "Tell me about them. All of it. No sugar-coating, no diplomatic omissions, no creative interpretations that make me think I'm getting a normal transfer student when what I'm actually getting is a supernatural weapon of mass destruction with homework."
"Such specificity in your requirements," Lucifer said with obvious approval, his smile taking on an edge of genuine respect. "I do appreciate a man who's learned to ask the right questions through painful experience."
He leaned forward slightly, his posture becoming more serious though the underlying charisma never wavered. "Harry Potter is, as I mentioned, part angel. His parents—lovely people, really, though James had a tendency toward elaborate pranks that would have impressed Loki—were cursed with infertility. Dark magic that severed their ability to create life at the most fundamental level. Nasty bit of work, really. Very personal, very cruel."
"Cursed by whom?" Alaric interrupted, his professional instincts kicking in. "Because if we're talking about enemies who might show up looking for revenge or continuation of old grudges, I need to know about it."
"Dead," Lucifer replied with casual certainty. "Very thoroughly dead. Harry saw to that personally, though he was barely fourteen at the time. Quite impressive, really, though traumatic for obvious reasons."
"A fourteen-year-old killed someone?" Alaric asked, his voice carefully neutral while his mind raced through the implications.
"A fourteen-year-old killed someone who'd been trying to murder him since infancy, had successfully murdered dozens of other children, and was in the process of attempting genocide," Lucifer corrected, his voice taking on a slight edge that reminded Alaric exactly who he was talking to. "Context matters, Dr. Saltzman. Harry's never hurt anyone who didn't thoroughly deserve it, and even then he prefers creative non-violent solutions to most problems."
"Non-violent like what?" Alaric pressed, though he was beginning to suspect he already knew this was going to be complicated.
Lucifer's smile turned sharp with obvious pride. "Well, there was the time he convinced a group of demon mercenaries to give up their assassination contract by proving that their employer hadn't actually paid them and then helping them file a supernatural small claims court case. Or when he dealt with a haunted house by organizing family therapy sessions between the living residents and the deceased former owners until they worked out their issues."
"Family therapy. With ghosts," Alaric said slowly.
"Remarkably effective, actually," Lucifer replied cheerfully. "Harry has this gift for seeing the underlying problems in any conflict and finding creative solutions that address the root causes rather than just the symptoms. Very much his mother's influence—Lily was brilliant at that sort of thing."
"And his father's influence?"
"James Potter was legendary for elaborate pranks that made profound social points while simultaneously demonstrating impressive magical skill and creativity," Lucifer said, his voice taking on a note of fond exasperation. "Harry has inherited that talent, along with the supernatural power to make his pranks considerably more... impactful than your average teenage mischief."
"Define impactful," Alaric said, already sensing he wasn't going to like this answer.
"Well, there was the incident with the corrupt supernatural judge," Lucifer began thoughtfully, "where Harry convinced an entire courtroom that the judge was actually a circus clown by manipulating reality just enough to make everyone see his true nature. Or the time he dealt with a bully at his previous school by temporarily giving the boy the ability to only speak the absolute truth for a week."
"He can manipulate reality?" Alaric asked, his voice climbing toward something approaching panic.
"On a limited scale, and only when he's making a point about justice or protecting people he cares about," Lucifer replied soothingly, though his eyes sparkled with amusement at Alaric's reaction. "Really, it's quite admirable. He never uses his power for personal gain or petty revenge. Very moral, my boy. Sometimes annoyingly so."
Alaric buried his face in his hands for a moment, then looked up with the expression of someone who'd decided to embrace the inevitable. "Enhanced magical abilities. We talked about quantifying that statement. Enhanced compared to what?"
"He could probably give your average Original vampire a run for their money, magically speaking," Lucifer replied with casual ease, as if he were discussing the weather rather than power levels that could reshape local geography. "More raw power than Klaus on his best day, though obviously different in application and considerably better controlled."
"More raw power than Klaus Mikaelson," Alaric repeated, his voice completely flat. "You're talking about a fourteen-year-old boy who could potentially take on one of the most feared supernatural beings in history."
"Fifteen, actually—his birthday was last month," Lucifer corrected helpfully. "And when you put it like that, it does sound rather alarming, doesn't it? But consider this: Klaus has a thousand years of combat experience, political cunning, and a rather impressive collection of psychological issues driving his behavior. Harry has fifteen years of loving family support, excellent education, and a moral compass that would make actual saints weep with envy."
He leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more thoughtful. "I know which one I'd rather have attending my school, and more importantly, I know which one is more likely to use their power to help their fellow students rather than terrorize them."
"That's... actually a fair point," Alaric conceded, though he made a mental note to review the school's structural insurance policies and possibly increase the coverage limits. Significantly. "Though I have to ask—if he's that powerful, why does he need school at all? Why not private tutoring or specialized training?"
Lucifer's expression softened, becoming genuinely paternal in a way that was oddly touching coming from someone with his reputation. "Because he's never been allowed to just be a teenager, Dr. Saltzman. He's been the protector, the problem-solver, the one everyone turns to when things go wrong. But he's never had the chance to just be a student, to make mistakes and learn from them in an environment where the consequences aren't life-and-death."
"And Neville Longbottom?"
"Phenomenally powerful wizard from their dimension, where magic is considerably more combat-oriented than yours," Lucifer replied, his tone suggesting this was somehow the least concerning thing about the boy. "Think of it more like... specialized law enforcement training rather than military applications. Their world had a rather significant problem with magical terrorists who enjoyed torture, murder, and the occasional attempt at genocide."
"Magical terrorists," Alaric said, his voice carefully neutral while he mentally added another item to his growing list of things he'd never thought he'd have to consider in an educational context.
"Quite unpleasant people, really," Lucifer confirmed with obvious distaste. "Death Eaters, they called themselves, which should tell you everything you need to know about their creativity and subtlety. Neville was raised by people who fought them professionally—his grandmother was head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, though that's rather like saying someone was head of Supernatural Crisis Management for your entire dimension."
"And his power levels?"
Lucifer's smile turned slightly apologetic. "Well, you mentioned city blocks earlier. That wasn't entirely hyperbole. If Neville really lost his temper—which rarely happens, he's actually quite gentle by nature—the structural damage could be... extensive."
"Extensive how?" Alaric pressed, though he suspected he really didn't want to know.
"Think 'localized natural disaster,'" Lucifer replied cheerfully, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to discuss in the context of teenage enrollment. "But before you panic, let me point out that Neville's been trained from birth in control techniques by some of the most skilled magical combatants in his world. He's probably got better restraint than any of your current students."
"That's... somewhat reassuring," Alaric said, though he was already mentally composing the letter he'd need to send to his insurance company. "And his temperament?"
"Gentle, thoughtful, loyal to a fault," Lucifer replied warmly. "More likely to grow you a garden than level your building, though he could do either with equal ease. He has a gift for herbology that borders on the supernatural even by magical standards—plants literally grow better just from being around him."
"At least that sounds peaceful," Alaric muttered.
"Oh, it is, unless you happen to be threatening someone he cares about," Lucifer said with obvious amusement. "Then you discover that someone who can make roses bloom in winter can also make poison ivy grow through concrete. Very educational for bullies, though the cleanup can be challenging."
"And Susan Bones?"
"Trained by the head of Magical Law Enforcement from their dimension," Lucifer replied, his voice taking on a note of genuine respect. "Think of her as a teenage version of your most competent supernatural investigator—excellent judgment, extensive knowledge of magical crimes and their investigation, and the kind of tactical thinking that comes from being raised by someone who spent decades dealing with magical criminals."
"That actually sounds like it might be helpful," Alaric said hopefully.
"Oh, it will be," Lucifer confirmed with a grin. "Susan's the voice of reason for the group, which is probably the most valuable thing she brings to any situation. She's also the one most likely to talk the boys out of whatever elaborate schemes they're planning."
"Most likely to talk them out of it, or most likely to help them plan it better?" Alaric asked, his experience with teenage group dynamics suggesting this was an important distinction.
Lucifer's grin widened. "She'll attempt to be the voice of reason, realize she's being ignored, and then throw herself wholeheartedly into making sure whatever chaos ensues is at least organized and well-planned. Amelia raised her to be thorough in all things, including mischief management."
Before Alaric could respond to this less-than-reassuring information, his phone rang with its distinctive electronic trill. He glanced at the caller ID and felt his stress levels climb another significant notch.
"I need to take this," he told Lucifer, who nodded graciously and settled back in his chair with the air of someone perfectly content to wait and observe whatever entertainment was about to unfold.
"Dr. Saltzman speaking," he answered, putting the phone on speaker in a moment of either professional courtesy or masochistic curiosity about how this day could possibly get more complicated.
"Dr. Saltzman? This is Klaus Mikaelson." The voice on the other end was cultured, British, and carried an edge of barely contained violence that made Alaric's supernatural instincts stand up and take immediate notice. Even through the phone, Klaus managed to project the kind of casual menace that came from a thousand years of being the apex predator in any room he entered. "I'm calling about my daughter Hope's enrollment for the upcoming school year."
Alaric glanced at Lucifer, who was now listening with obvious interest and growing delight, his expression suggesting he was watching his favorite television program reach a particularly entertaining plot twist.
"Mr. Mikaelson, yes, we've been expecting your call," Alaric replied, trying to keep his voice professionally neutral while simultaneously wondering if the universe was actively conspiring against his blood pressure. "Hope's enrollment is confirmed, and we're very much looking forward to having her join our student body."
"Excellent," Klaus replied, his voice carrying the kind of satisfied pleasure that suggested he'd expected nothing less and was prepared to make life unpleasant for anyone who'd suggested otherwise. "I should mention that Hope is... unique... among her peers. As a tribrid, her abilities are rather more extensive than your typical supernatural student. I trust this won't be a problem for your... accommodating... institution?"
The way he said 'accommodating' managed to convey both approval and a subtle threat about what would happen if the school proved to be less accommodating than expected.
Alaric looked at Lucifer, who was now grinning with obvious delight at the turn the conversation had taken, his eyes sparkling with anticipation like someone watching dominoes line up for an elaborate chain reaction.
"Not at all," Alaric said, though he was beginning to wonder if the universe was actively trying to give him the most challenging student body in educational history. "We're well-equipped to handle students with a wide range of abilities and... unique circumstances."
"Wonderful," Klaus said, his voice warming slightly at the assurance, though the underlying steel never quite disappeared. "I should also mention that I'll be delivering her personally next week, and I may wish to inspect the facilities to ensure they're adequate for her needs. I'm sure you understand that as her father, I have certain... standards... regarding her education and safety."
The pause before 'standards' was loaded with enough implied menace to power a small city, carrying the clear suggestion that failure to meet those standards would result in consequences that would be both creative and extremely unpleasant.
"Of course," Alaric replied, drawing on every ounce of diplomatic skill he'd developed through years of supernatural crisis management. "We'll arrange a full tour whenever convenient for you. I'm confident you'll find our facilities and security measures more than adequate for Hope's needs."
"I'm certain I will," Klaus replied, his voice carrying just enough edge to remind Alaric exactly who he was dealing with while simultaneously suggesting that his definition of 'adequate' might be considerably more demanding than most parents'. "I do so look forward to meeting you in person, Dr. Saltzman. I've heard such... interesting... things about your institution."
The call ended, and Alaric looked at Lucifer with growing concern and a dawning sense that the upcoming semester was going to test every crisis management skill he'd ever developed and probably several he hadn't learned yet.
"Hope Mikaelson," Lucifer said thoughtfully, his voice carrying the tone of someone encountering a particularly fascinating puzzle. "Klaus's daughter. The tribrid—witch, werewolf, and vampire all in one remarkably powerful package. How absolutely delicious. This school year is shaping up to be quite remarkable."
"You know Klaus?" Alaric asked, though given everything he'd learned about his visitor in the past hour, he wasn't entirely surprised by this revelation.
"We've crossed paths once or twice over the centuries," Lucifer replied with casual ease, as if discussing mutual acquaintances at a cocktail party rather than encounters spanning millennia. "Lovely man, in his way. Terrible temper, family issues that make mine look positively functional, and a tendency toward creative violence that I find both admirable and occasionally excessive."
He paused, his expression growing more thoughtful and genuinely appreciative. "But he loves his daughter more than life itself, which I respect enormously. There's something rather beautiful about that kind of absolute devotion, even when it comes wrapped in homicidal tendencies and a thousand-year history of questionable life choices."
"And you think Hope and your children are going to get along?" Alaric asked, already envisioning the conversations he'd be having with parents, school board members, and possibly federal agencies.
"Oh, I think they're going to be absolutely fascinating together," Lucifer replied with obvious delight, his smile taking on an almost predatory edge of anticipation. "Hope's been the most powerful supernatural being in her age group for her entire life—that kind of isolation can be... limiting in terms of personal development. My children have been surrounded by equally powerful peers but isolated from normal social interaction."
"And you think putting them together is going to solve both problems?" Alaric asked skeptically.
"I think putting them together is going to create entirely new and interesting problems while simultaneously forcing all of them to grow in ways they never would separately," Lucifer corrected with obvious relish. "Much more educational than solving existing problems, don't you think?"
"Educational for who?" Alaric asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer and wasn't going to like it.
"Everyone involved, naturally," Lucifer replied, settling back in his chair with the air of someone watching dominoes line up in perfectly orchestrated chaos. "Your students will learn about dimensional magic, advanced combat techniques, and the practical applications of supernatural law enforcement. My children will learn about social dynamics, this dimension's supernatural politics, and how to navigate a world where their abilities make them unique rather than just well-trained."
"And Hope?"
Lucifer's smile turned sharp, carrying just enough hint of his more dangerous nature to remind Alaric that he was still talking to the Prince of Darkness, regardless of how charming the conversation had become.
"Hope Mikaelson will learn that she's not the only incredibly powerful supernatural teenager in existence," he said with obvious satisfaction. "Which could be very good for her character development, depending on how she handles the competition and the realization that raw power isn't the only measure of worth."
"You think your son can match a tribrid?" Alaric asked, genuine curiosity overriding his mounting concern about the supernatural arms race he was apparently facilitating.
"I think my son is part angel, Dr. Saltzman," Lucifer replied with quiet pride, his voice taking on an edge of paternal satisfaction. "Divine power tends to trump supernatural evolution, however impressive that evolution might be. But more importantly, I think healthy competition might be exactly what both of them need."
He leaned forward, his expression growing more serious and genuinely caring. "Hope's never had to work for anything—her power came naturally, her family's wealth and influence opened every door, and her supernatural abilities made most challenges trivial. That kind of effortless success can be... limiting."
"And Harry?"
"Has had to work for everything, has earned every advantage through effort and sacrifice, and has learned that power without purpose is meaningless," Lucifer replied warmly. "The contrast might be very educational for both of them."
Alaric was quiet for several long moments, considering everything he'd learned while absently rotating his bourbon glass between his palms. The weight of responsibility was settling on his shoulders like a familiar but significantly heavier coat.
"These children of yours," he said finally, "they're from another dimension? An alternate reality where magic worked differently?"
"Indeed," Lucifer confirmed with a slight nod. "A world where magic was public knowledge, where supernatural beings and humans coexisted under formal magical government oversight, and where dark wizards occasionally tried to take over the world through terrorism, mass murder, and creative applications of unforgivable curses."
"How many survivors from their world?" Alaric asked, his hunter instincts picking up on the implications of Lucifer's careful word choice.
Lucifer's expression grew genuinely pained, the supernatural charisma falling away for a moment to reveal something deeply grieved underneath. "Twelve total. The three children and nine adults. They've been living in Los Angeles for the past thirteen years, building new lives and trying to give the children as normal a childhood as possible under rather extraordinary circumstances."
"What happened to the others?" Alaric asked gently, recognizing the look in Lucifer's eyes from his own mirror.
"War," Lucifer said simply, his voice carrying the weight of genuine grief and barely controlled rage. "A particularly vicious dark wizard named Tom Riddle—called himself Lord Voldemort because apparently dark lords have no imagination when it comes to intimidating names—decided that magical people with non-magical ancestry were somehow inferior and should be eliminated. Along with anyone who disagreed with that philosophy."
He paused, his hands clenching slightly as old anger surfaced. "It was... comprehensive in its brutality. Systematic torture, mass murder, the deliberate targeting of children and families. When the survivors finally managed to kill him, their world was so devastated that staying wasn't really an option."
"And they came here," Alaric said, understanding the subtext of displacement and trauma that most people would miss.
"I brought them here," Lucifer corrected, his voice growing warmer as he focused on what he'd been able to do rather than what had been lost. "Gave them new identities, helped them establish themselves, made sure the children had everything they needed to heal and grow. It's been... remarkably rewarding, actually."
"Playing parent suits you," Alaric observed, somewhat surprised by this revelation.
Lucifer's smile was genuine and slightly self-deprecating. "Who knew? Certainly not me. But there's something rather wonderful about watching children grow into themselves, about being trusted with their hopes and fears, about having the power to actually protect the people you care about rather than just... well, punishing the people you don't."
Before Alaric could respond to this unexpectedly vulnerable admission, his phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed.
"Caroline Forbes," he told Lucifer, who looked intrigued. "My... business partner. And vampire. And someone who's going to have very strong opinions about everything we've discussed."
"By all means," Lucifer said with obvious interest, "I'd be delighted to meet another member of your staff."
Alaric answered the phone and put it on speaker. "Caroline, what's—"
"Alaric!" Caroline's voice burst through the phone with typical vampire speed and enthusiasm, carrying just enough edge to suggest she was in full crisis-management mode. "I just got off the phone with Klaus, and he mentioned something about Hope having 'interesting new classmates' next year. Please tell me you haven't accepted any students who are going to make our insurance premiums even more astronomical than they already are."
Lucifer's eyebrows rose with obvious delight at this development, his expression suggesting Christmas morning had arrived early.
"Define astronomical," Alaric said carefully, glancing at his supernatural visitor who was now grinning with obvious anticipation.
"Alaric," Caroline's voice took on the dangerous tone that usually preceded either very helpful problem-solving or very creative threats, "what exactly did you agree to? And don't try to sugar-coat it—I can hear it in your voice when you're about to tell me something that's going to make me want to murder someone."
"Well," Alaric began, looking at Lucifer who nodded encouragingly, "I just accepted three transfer students. Powerful transfer students. Very powerful transfer students."
"How powerful are we talking?" Caroline asked, her voice climbing toward the register that indicated impending vampire panic. "Please tell me we're not talking 'accidentally level the school during algebra class' powerful."
"More like 'could probably take Klaus in a fair fight' powerful," Alaric admitted, watching Lucifer's grin widen at Caroline's sharp intake of breath.
There was a long pause, during which Alaric could practically hear Caroline processing this information and running through various crisis scenarios at vampire speed.
"Klaus doesn't fight fair," she said finally, her voice carefully controlled. "And if these kids are powerful enough to take him in an unfair fight, we might need to reconsider our entire approach to campus security."
"There's more," Alaric said, deciding to embrace the inevitable. "Their guardian is here. In my office. Right now."
"Their guardian?" Caroline asked, her voice taking on the suspicious tone that suggested she was sensing there were layers to this situation she hadn't uncovered yet.
"Lucifer Morningstar," Alaric said, watching his supernatural guest give a small, elegant wave at the phone. "Also known as—"
"The Devil," Lucifer finished cheerfully, his voice pitched to carry clearly through the phone speaker. "Though I much prefer Lucifer, as I was just explaining to Dr. Saltzman. 'The Devil' has such unfortunate connotations, don't you think?"
The silence on the other end of the phone stretched long enough for Alaric to wonder if Caroline had fainted, which would be a first in their professional relationship.
"The actual Devil," Caroline said finally, her voice completely flat with the kind of supernatural shock that indicated she was still processing. "The Prince of Darkness. Lucifer Morningstar. That Devil."
"The very same," Lucifer confirmed with obvious pleasure, as if he were being introduced at a particularly enjoyable social gathering. "Though I prefer to think of myself as cosmically misunderstood rather than actively malevolent. Much better for the image, don't you think?"
"You want to enroll your children in our school," Caroline said, her voice taking on the tone of someone who'd decided to just embrace the absurd rather than fight it. "Your supernatural, dimensionally displaced, incredibly powerful children."
"Exactly!" Lucifer said with genuine enthusiasm. "I knew you'd understand. Dr. Saltzman has been remarkably accommodating, though I suspect he's going to need several more drinks before this conversation concludes."
"Several more bottles, more likely," Alaric muttered, reaching for his bourbon again.
"I'm coming over," Caroline announced, her voice taking on the determined tone that indicated she'd shifted into full crisis-management mode. "Don't sign anything, don't agree to anything else, and try not to let the Prince of Darkness corrupt any of our current students before I get there."
"I'll do my best to resist the urge to corrupt anyone," Lucifer promised solemnly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I make no guarantees about the bourbon situation. Dr. Saltzman seems to be handling the stress quite well, all things considered."
The phone line went dead, and Alaric looked at Lucifer with growing resignation.
"She's going to want to interview you," he warned. "Caroline doesn't accept anything at face value, especially when it involves the safety of our students."
"I'd be disappointed if she didn't," Lucifer replied warmly. "Anyone responsible for children's welfare should be appropriately suspicious of strangers with significant power, regardless of their supernatural credentials."
"And when Klaus arrives?" Alaric asked, already envisioning the chaos that was likely to ensue.
Lucifer's smile turned sharp with anticipation. "Well, that should be absolutely fascinating. Klaus Mikaelson meeting Harry Potter—two beings who've never encountered anyone quite like themselves before. The results should be educational for everyone involved."
"Educational," Alaric repeated, his voice carrying the resignation of someone who could see the inevitable approaching like a supernatural freight train. "Right. Any advice for managing that particular meeting?"
"Don't," Lucifer said with obvious amusement, his voice taking on the tone of someone who'd spent considerable time studying both parties involved. "Klaus respects strength and directness, Harry responds well to honesty and fair treatment. If you try to manage their interaction, you'll just annoy both of them. Let them establish their own dynamic."
"And if their dynamic involves property damage?"
"Then you'll have front-row seats to one of the most spectacular supernatural confrontations in modern history," Lucifer replied cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Educational, certainly, though possibly expensive in terms of structural repair costs."
Alaric was quiet for several minutes, thinking through everything he'd learned, weighing the risks against the benefits, considering the implications for his school and his students. Outside his windows, the evening was settling over the campus, lights beginning to flicker on in dormitory windows as students prepared for another night at what was, despite everything, still fundamentally a school for supernatural teenagers learning to control their abilities.
Finally, he looked up at Lucifer with decision in his eyes.
"I'll accept their enrollment," he said, "on several non-negotiable conditions."
"I'm listening," Lucifer replied, his voice carrying both relief and wariness.
"First, complete honesty about any incidents or problems that arise," Alaric said, holding up a finger with the authority that came from years of supernatural crisis management. "I can't help them if I don't know what's happening. No 'protecting' me from information, no diplomatic omissions, no creative interpretations of events. If something goes wrong, I need to know about it immediately and in full detail."
"Agreed without reservation," Lucifer said, his response immediate and sincere.
"Second, they follow school rules like everyone else," Alaric continued, his voice growing more stern. "Unique abilities don't grant exemptions from behavioral expectations, attendance requirements, or academic standards. They're students first, supernatural beings second."
"Reasonable and completely acceptable," Lucifer replied with a slight nod of approval.
"Third, if their presence puts other students at genuine risk—not just makes things more complicated or interesting, but actual physical danger—they'll need additional supervision or potentially alternative arrangements," Alaric said, his voice growing more serious. "I have a responsibility to all my students, not just the extraordinary ones."
"Fair enough," Lucifer agreed, though his expression suggested he didn't expect this to be an issue. "Though I should point out that my children are more likely to protect their fellow students than endanger them."
"And finally," Alaric said, his voice taking on a note of absolute authority, "you don't interfere with school operations unless there's a genuine emergency that requires your intervention. No dramatic appearances to solve problems the children should be handling themselves, no using your considerable influence to smooth over situations they need to learn from, and absolutely no threatening anyone who gives them a detention, a failing grade, or any other normal consequence of teenage behavior."
Lucifer grinned, the expression both charming and slightly dangerous, carrying just enough edge to remind Alaric that he was still negotiating with the Prince of Darkness regardless of how reasonable the conversation had become.
"You drive a delightfully hard bargain, Dr. Saltzman," he said with obvious appreciation. "But I accept your conditions completely. Though I should probably mention that Klaus Mikaelson is significantly less likely to honor that last requirement where his daughter is concerned."
"I'll deal with Klaus when the time comes," Alaric replied, trying to project considerably more confidence than he actually felt. "One supernatural parent crisis at a time."
Lucifer rose from his chair with fluid grace, extending a perfectly manicured hand across the desk. "I believe this arrangement will be beneficial for everyone involved, Dr. Saltzman. Though I do have one small warning about the upcoming semester."
"Which is?" Alaric asked, shaking the offered hand and noting that Lucifer's grip was warm, firm, and surprisingly human despite everything.
"When Klaus Mikaelson meets Harry Potter, the interaction is likely to be... memorable," Lucifer said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Klaus has never encountered anyone quite like Harry before, and Harry has never met anyone quite like Klaus. The results should be fascinating from an educational standpoint, though you might want to have your structural repair budget ready."
"Any advice for handling that particular meeting?" Alaric asked, already mentally reviewing the school's insurance policies.
"Don't try to prevent it," Lucifer said with obvious amusement, his voice taking on the tone of someone who'd spent considerable time studying both parties involved. "Klaus respects strength and directness, Harry responds well to honesty and fair treatment. If you let them establish their own dynamic rather than trying to manage their interaction, they'll probably get along quite well. Both of them appreciate people who don't try to manipulate or control them."
"And if they don't get along?" Alaric asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
Lucifer's smile turned sharp, carrying just enough edge to remind Alaric exactly who he was talking to. "Then you'll have front-row seats to one of the most spectacular supernatural confrontations in modern history. Educational, certainly, though possibly expensive in terms of property damage."
He moved toward the door with predatory grace, then paused to look back at Alaric with genuine warmth replacing the dangerous amusement.
"Dr. Saltzman, thank you," he said, his voice carrying sincere gratitude. "You've built something truly special here, and I'm grateful that my children will be part of it. I think this school year is going to be remarkable for everyone involved."
"Remarkable," Alaric muttered as Lucifer left his office through the perfectly normal door rather than another dimensional portal, somehow making even his exit seem like a performance worth watching. "That's one word for it."
He looked down at the enrollment forms on his desk, then reached for his phone to call his staff. Caroline was going to have thoughts about this development, probably involving a lot of shouting and possibly some very creative threats. Dorian would want to research dimensional magic and angelic powers immediately. Emma would insist on psychological evaluations for everyone involved, including possibly him.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, he was going to have to figure out how to prepare his school for what was shaping up to be the most interesting semester in the institution's history.
After all, it wasn't every day that the Devil enrolled his part-angel son in your school.
Especially when Klaus Mikaelson's tribrid daughter was also starting classes.
Alaric reached for the bottle of bourbon again, then reconsidered and called his supplier instead. Something told him he was going to need a much larger inventory for the upcoming semester.
And possibly a very good therapist.
Or maybe just a vacation. Somewhere tropical. Where the biggest supernatural problem was whether the bartender remembered to put little umbrellas in the drinks.
He was definitely going to need those enrollment forms in triplicate.
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