Harry Potter: Altair Black. Son of Asmodeus

Harley was not on the Quidditch field. But Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell were. He decided to simply sit in the stands and enjoy the wind on his face.

He enjoyed the cold, in both lives. His first life was that of an ordinary person, an average student, his parents died, and he was left in the care of his older sister until she died.

He died shortly after. He doesn't remember his death, nor anything that happened afterward. He only has memories of waking up in a small bed at Malfoy Manor.

Altair touched the scar on his face. It was a thin but noticeable line.

"I almost died," he whispered, the hot air expelled from his mouth, creating steam.

'If Professor Flitwick hadn't arrived on time...' he didn't think Snape was too merciful, he probably would have gotten rid of his corpse with some potion.

Someone informed the charms professor. It was a Slytherin, Altair saw a figure at the back of Malfoy's group of sycophants walking away.

Why? Pity?... he couldn't think of anything else. Maybe it was Daphne?, no, they ended their relationship because the Malfoys didn't think it was right for her to get too close to someone of his status. Doing something like that wouldn't be her style. She will be a concubine for Malfoy... Will she be?

Altair never thought much about living after entering Hogwarts. Mediocre talent, limited resources, an oppressive family. But now, he felt he could touch the sky with her fingertips.

Daphne Greengrass. His first friend, his first love. After her, he finally accepted that he would never be happy as long as he lived.

When he started dating Lavender, he intended to sleep with her, lose his virginity for the first time in two lives, and then commit suicide. But he ended up getting attached to her, even started looking into dangerous rituals where a fraction of his soul was given in exchange for power, all to be able to offer her something in her life.

Thanks to Merlin, he never made any. His soul was all that truly belonged to him.

Does he love Lavender? He doesn't know. He doesn't know what it means to love. He likes her, he's sure of that, but loving is something completely different.

Harley and Luna? He feels lust for the first and a deep affection for the second. He doesn't love them, a part of him wants to but doesn't know how.

He hopes to learn to love in the future, because feeling loved feels incredible.

Altair closed his eyes while he thought in the future. There were several thousand galleons in the Room of Requirement, money isn't a deep problem, even if it were, he could sell low-grade potions.

Altair looked at his status.

[Status]

Altair Regulus Asmodeus (House Black)

Race: Human-Demon Hybrid.

Title: Lustful. Mediocre wizard.

Profession: Magician.

Mana (UL): 1,760

Life: 100%

[Physicist]

Speed: 24 (+: 200)

Strength: 22 (+: 200)

Reflexes: 31 (+: 200)

Resistance: 19 (+: 200)

Vitality: 27 (+: 200)

[Spirit]

Intelligence: 16 (+: 6,400)

Wisdom: 10 (+: 3,200)

Soul: 50 (+: 100)

He got two Int points for anal sex with Lavender and vaginal with Poppy.

[SP: 81,400]

More than ten thousand SP for the trio. Altair thought about saving, buying the next level of [Heightened Senses], or upgrading his stats.

In the end, he decided to increase his physical stats by five each. Int would increase passively at first, it had no passive way to enhance its physique, it wasn't an RPG system, everything was based on sex.

[Status]

Altair Regulus Asmodeus (House Black)

Race: Human-Demon Hybrid.

Title: Lustful. Mediocre wizard.

Profession: Magician.

Maná (UL): 1,760

Life: 90 % (in recovery)

[Physicist]

Speed: 29 (+: 6,400)

Strength: 27 (+: 6,400)

Reflexes: 36 (+: 6,400)

Resistance: 24 (+: 6,400)

Vitality: 32 (+: 6,400)

[Spirit]

Intelligence: 16 (+: 6,400)

Wisdom: 10 (+: 3,200)

Alma: 50 (+: 100)

He spent thirty-one thousand SP. A small amount for the change he felt in his body. His body did not meet the Kryptonian standard, but Altair believed he was capable of dodging the Sectumsempra curse that Snape had thrown at him five days ago.

[SP: 50,400]

Altair decided to save.

Altair tilted his head as a bludger struck the spot where he had been moments before. He saw a short, chubby redhead looking in his direction, his hand gripping a wooden bat.

"Look that-"

"We have it here-"

"A snake-"

"With feathers-"

"Quetzalcoatl?" Altair interrupted the red-haired twins. When he read about them, they were amusing, but seeing them finish each other's sentences was uncomfortable. More when they simply called him Slytherin even though he was from Ravenclaw.

"Did you hear that, brother?"

"I only heard a hiss, could it be-"

"A snake?, or-"

"A future dark wizard."

"I'll make sure to remember your names if I become one," he told them, smiling. The metal bludger could have sent him to the hospital for another week if it had hit.

"Are you spying for Ravenclaw?" Oliver Wood was a tall and burly guy, with a head full of brown hair. He was a sports fanatic.

"Didn't you already play?" Altair didn't know. He wasn't a quidditch fan.

"It's our next match, we'll destroy the eagles," Oliver had an intimidating presence for his team. Altair liked him. The man cared more about Quidditch than who he was. Besides, he was capable of silencing the Weasley twins.

"Good luck," Altair said sincerely, he didn't care much about sports. He didn't have many friends, and none of them were on the Ravenclaw team. Harley was a seeker for Gryffindor, so he hoped they would win. He was about to ask about her absence, but he stopped. It would seem odd.

"I will ask you to leave the field. I won't risk any information getting leaked," Wood remained stubborn. They had already lost the first match because their seeker was affected by the Dementors that roamed the outskirts of the castle searching for Bellatrix LeStrange or Peter Pettigrew.

Altair simply shrugged as he stood up. He had nothing to do. The three hunters, Katie was a substitute, didn't say a word as they watched him leave. Lavender wasn't shy when she talked about how his cock was an absolute pussy destroyer. The three looked at him confused and with a bit of desire.

"Thank you!" the chocolate-skinned woman said to her. Angelina ignored the looks from her teammates as she added. "For getting Snape out of Hogwarts, this year it's my Owls, Professor Evans will be much better," she waved at him.

Altair returned the greeting while murmuring a "You're welcome," confused.

While walking, he came across a young redhead with brown eyes.

"Looking for victims to bully, mini-deatheater?" Charles Potter was an idiot. He looked more like an American bully than the hero that the press and James Potter swore he was. When his younger brother died, James saved face by saying that he was the-boy-who-lived and that saying it was Harry was just a distraction to protect him from all danger. Charles took after his father; although his hair was like his mother's, the rest of his head resembled a monkey's more than a genius's like Lily Evans.

Altair let it slide. He heard him click his tongue but Potter didn't say anything else, he was afraid of Oliver.

"Good luck, Potty-boy", Altair whispered. The red-haired young man looked at him with anger.

"Potter!, you are late!" Wood take his attention.

During his way to the Room of Requirements, he encountered many people who shot him looks of disgust, all Slytherins. Then others greeted him and, like Angelina, thanked him for giving them a year without Snape.

The seventh years are the only ones benefiting. The others would simply see the return of a more irritable Snape next year.

The Room of Requirements opened into a huge hall, with straw dolls.

Altair began casting spells on them, little by little, refining his casting. He could never practice too much. Now he almost had the magic of a second-year student, not too much, but it was four times greater than at the beginning of the year.

The system did not quantify the ULs used per spell, but in his body, he could feel it draining little by little. In a few hours of practice where he cast all the spells, transfigurations, and enchantments from the first and second years, he use up ninety percent of his magic.

The spells were difficult. He needed several attempts to manage to cast them. The wand was a problem, but Altair didn't believe it was the biggest one he had. It was above all talent.

"I need a new wand," the probability of leaving the castle was not low. They would probably send him to Hogsmeade where he could take the Floo Network to Diagon Alley.

He was nineteen years old, having turned nineteen on September ninth. The legal age in the magic world was eighteen, a year more than in the books. A bit strange considering that most were still students and depended on their parents, but he wasn't one to judge the system.

After leaving the Room of Requirements, he walked towards Professor Flitwick's office.

"Come in," he heard when his knuckles knocked on the door. "Ah, Mr. Asmodeus, it's a relief to see you awake," the professor seemed genuinely happy. "I suppose you are here for the permission to go to Diagon Alley, here it is," the professor handed him a piece of paper. "If anyone tries to stop you while leaving the castle, this letter will suffice."

"I... uh, huh?" Altair stammered, looking at the permit in his hand.

"Weren't you coming for that?" the professor asked worriedly. "I know that Professor Snape should have been expelled. But Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster... I respect the man and hope he knows what he's doing. But it still irritates me. If next year he continues to be a bad teacher, I will push for him to be expelled," the professor began to rant about the bat in the potions classroom.

"No! I came for the permission, but... how did you know I would ask to leave the castle?" the professor raised an eyebrow while frowning.

"Mrs. Andromeda Tonks told me. She told me she would inform you. She wanted to give you a gift or something like that... Didn't the message get through, I suppose?" the half-goblin asked.

"I haven't checked my W-phone in a long time..." Altair thought about the coincidence of his aunt asking for permission on his behalf. "Was she informed about my... accident?"

"Your accident? No. I informed her about the assassination attempt on your life! Your aunt is a good woman. She even came to see you, under the official pretext of being a second medical opinion. What are your reasons for leaving the castle?" It was more curiosity than a demand.

"I want to buy a wand. This one, I don't think it feels completely right for me. Even if my skill improves just a little, I think it would be a small improvement," Altair replied with a slight blush, it bothered him to be so disastrous with a wand.

"It will be more than a small improvement," the goblin looked at his wand with hidden hatred. "Bellatrix wand...", the professor's eyes seemed sad. "That wand, let me say, is not suitable for you. Besides, the modification the Malfoys put on it, which by the way is more expensive than a new wand, limits it. Well, I eagerly await seeing your true potential, I can feel your magic increasing, I won't ask how. Many students used unethical methods to increase their magic, I can see that you are not one of them. Those methods always leave traces, no matter how subtle they are," the professor concluded excitedly.

"True potential?" Altair murmured to himself, but the professor heard him.

"Right now, you are an average student. You always had less than a seventh part of the magic of everyone in your year and used a wand that didn't belong to you. When you get the right wand in your hands, you will understand what I mean," Altair nodded as he left the room. Leaving the professor who corrected homework, even during vacations.

Altair had seen adult wizards take wands from other wizards and use them with ease, so he didn't believe the wand was anything more than an accessory. The Weasleys even used inherited wands and seemed like competent wizards.

Longbottom in the books had a problem similar to his... Altair simply dismissed his situation, saying it wasn't in the books. Altair will admit that Longbottom was good, even though he hates him.

Unconsciously, he knew the truth. The wand is important to the wizard, it is an extension of his body and his mother's wand would not be appropriate for him. He knew the truth but convinced himself of his lie. He wanted to believe that he could use any wand. When he failed, his mind, accustomed to the idea, simply labeled it as a lack of talent.

"I'm not that bad..." he murmured as he retreated to his room.