Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or anything involving DC comics.
Thursday, June 30th, 1994
They had done it, what they had so long ago declared to be impossible had finally come to pass. Etrigan the demon and Jason Blood were no longer bound by Merlin's spells or manipulations. For centuries both bonded souls dreamed of this day, how they would celebrate and live their own lives when they were finally free of their shared curse.
For all of their countless visions of a free future, neither had wanted this to happen.
"Though our shared curse is no more, I feel no happiness in my core."
Etrigan, the slayer, prince of hell, silently wept blood tears as he knelt before the grave of his closest friend, Jason Blood. He had never been one for expressing his emotions, but at this moment he really didn't care who looked upon him, he felt too much to care. The sadness for his fallen brother, the anger at his half-brother merlin for all of his manipulations and lies.
But most of all he felt an unyielding Hatred for destiny, the dark sorcerer who had separated the two beings and thereby killing Jason.
It had all been so sudden, one moment Jason was playing poker against the demons three and a collector of magical artifacts. The next moment the wizard Etrigan had slain so long ago was being reborn to feast upon the fears of mankind once again. Thankfully Jason had always been a quick thinker and had immediately knocked the dream stone out of Destiny's hands before the transformation could complete itself. Destiny had been rendered nearly powerless and Jason had taken advantage of that by summoning Etrigan to finish the job. With a sword through Destiny's chest and the dreamstone crushed, the bound demon was ready to claim victory.
That is until Destiny used the last remnants of his powers to undo Merlin's curse and separated the two brothers in all but blood. This action caused the fatal wound Jason had received so long ago to reopen and end his long life.
If the demon wasn't consumed by grief at the moment he would've found it ironic that the man who caused their bond in the first place was also the one to end it.
"Goodbye my bonded brother, hopefully you found peace not in this life, but another."
Having mourned his brother for as long as he could Etrigan stood from his silent vigil. In a flash of flames he was gone fully determined to take out his pain and rage on a few unlucky demons in hell. (1)
Unfortunately or fortunately depending on who you ask, a certain bitch known to many as fate had other plans.
Thursday, June 30th, 1994, Little whinging, Surrey
Harry James potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and sometimes known as fate's bitch could be described in many ways depending on who you ask. Some would call him kindhearted and brave if not a little bit shy, while others would call him a freak or an attention seeking glory hound. Though there are few times one would call the teenage wizard insane. This is one of those few times.
"And… there we go, it looks exactly as the book says it should." I thought proudly as I stood in the woods near the school playground, staring at what I had been working on for the better part of the day. Ensuring no errors had been made, less the horrific consequences ensue as the book clearly stated they would.
On the ground in front of me was a pentagram surrounded by numerous symbols, most of which meant very little to me but would probably impress Hermione to no end. I quickly shook the thought of my beautiful friend aside for the moment. All that mattered to me at the moment is that the pentagram would give me what I have been been desiring for the last five days. The power to protect the people closest to me.
Flashback, Saturday, June 25 1994, Number 4 Privet Drive
Lying in the old worn bed in the smallest room of the Dursley's home, I found myself in deep thought. This wasn't a rare occurrence for me as I tended to think deeply often when I'm under a lot of stress. Even if most everyone around me was oblivious to this and passed it off as nothing more than childish brooding, whenever it occurred. Though it wasn't so much the deep thinking that was strange for me, but rather what my current thought process was.
I was contemplating the facts about my life and how they had led me to my current predicament. I had only just returned with my relatives, and I use that term loosely, from Kings Cross station, to the prison they referred to as a home. The door had barely been shut when the walrus known as Vernon Dursley began whaling on me with all the power his meaty fists could pack. He showed no restraint as he landed hard punches and kicks on my defenseless form. It wasn't long before walrus junior or more commonly known as Dudley Dursley joined in his father's vicious beating, landing several hits himself.
As this was happening the only true blood relation I had in the room, Petunia Dursley stood by and watched with a smug smirk as her despised nephew got what, to her mind, he deserved.
As I lay prone and motionless on the ground, receiving numerous hits that barely even registered with me anymore, a few obvious facts came to me that should've become clear a lot sooner.
Firstly, the obliviators who had cleared away the memories of every muggle who had witnessed Marge's magical 'flight' last summer hadn't erased his relatives memories. Secondly he realized that his relatives didn't find his magical incident nearly as amusing as he did. I merely sighed mentally and resigned myself to wait until my relatives tired themselves out, which occurred far more quickly than anyone could consider healthy for a grown man and a teenager.
Thankfully the Dursleys immediately left after having had their fill of child abuse, presumably to go out to a nice restaurant and eat. That left me with more than enough time on my hands to rest and recuperate.
I stood up, feeling my body protesting every single movement I made, but I knew the pain would only double if I was found passed out somewhere. I finally reached the room that served as my jail cell each and every summer. I refused to call it my room, as this wasn't my home just as the people living here were certainly were not my family.
Having finally made it to the small space he occupied the green eyed wizard gently laid himself down unto the small bed, instantly finding relief from its somewhat soft surface.
It was this course of events that led me to my current train of thought. My thoughts ran around my head in a unorganized mess, as I contemplated his life up to this point.
To me it seemed as if my life got fucked over that fateful Halloween night, when Voldemort had struck down both of my parents and had nearly done the same to me. The mere thought of that night filled me with endless rage and sadness. For all the talk people share over how famous and rich I am, I would trade it all for a moment with my parents. After all if my mother hadn't done something to protect me from the killing curse I surely would have joined them last night.
That was one realization I had early on, it seemed more than impossible that an infant survived a curse that has killed countless people. This was backed up when I read all the history and Boy-Who-Lived books I can find. So many of them had theories and hypothesis, but that's all. No one had a solid answer as to what happened that night as no one was there except me, moldy shorts, and my parents.
It led me to the question of how the whole Boy-Who-Lived legend was started and why didn't Dumbledore attempt to stop it from spreading considering he knew the truth. Unless of course Dumbledore wanted the story to continue for some reason.
That got me thinking about the old man, it seemed as if everything wrong with my life had some kind of connection to the headmaster. My placement at the Dursley's, my ignorance of the wizarding world until I was eleven so on and so forth. It seemed as If the old man was trying to guide my life in a certain direction. So many things about Dumbledore's actions didn't add up.
He could think of his first year and the night Quirrelmort attempted to steal the philosopher's stone. Why had Dumbledore taken a broom to get to the ministry when he had a floo and a phoenix that can teleport using fire. Also why had it been so easy for me, Hermione and Ron to get through the traps the teachers had set. The only true challenge would have been the troll but that had been disposed of with ease by Quirrelmort. Even the confrontation with Quirrelmort seemed too coincidental, the way he had killed the man by simply touching him seemed overly suspicious.
It's almost as if Dumbledore planned the whole thing just to cause a confrontation between himself and Voldemort.
Then there was second year, what had the old man been smoking? To hire someone like Lockhart had most likely ruined an entire year of DADA education for all years including the OWL and NEWT students. That along with the fact Dumbledore failed to protect his students from the basilisk, even if he didn't know what had caused the petrifications, he should've evacuated the school or called the auros or both. Instead he had sat by while Hagrid was arrested, the basilisk nearly killed several students, including one of his best friends and almost allowed Tom Riddle to come back to life. To top it all off what did the Headmaster do when I related all of this to him, give him a pat on the head and a mug of cocoa. He had pretty much ignored everything I said.
That was actually something else I had to consider, how many times has Dumbledore just brushed my opinion aside? Come to think of it that happens far too often and with far too many people for comfort. Every year when something beyond dangerous happens Dumbledore sweeps it under the rug and tells me not to worry about it. No matter how much I asked why Voldemort kept coming back or why he affected me so much the old man gave me a noncommittal answer and told him to run along.
The worst part was I gave up so easily each and every time, just like I do every time someone tell me to do something or threatens me. Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, Snape, Malfoy every time they come at me with an insult or command I just sit there and do nothing besides throw a light glare.
Even Hermione pays little to no attention to what I say or think. It was this thought that brought me to a realization I should've had long ago. No one thinks I can take care of myself or even think for myself. They all believe I'm weak and pliable and I have been playing the part perfectly. If I'm being honest with myself it was most likely the Dursley's eleven years of influence following me to hogwarts that caused this. Hogwarts was the one place I could go to escape their constant torment of my person, but it seems my memories will always follow me. I gave a mirthless laugh at that.
This had to change, I can no longer bow to the whims of others like a well trained dog. If I wanted anyone to respect me a Harry Potter and not the scared meek boy or the Boy-Who-Lived then I have to start controlling my own life. That brought me up short with a question that nearly made me sit up before my aching body reminded me why that was a bad idea.
Did I control my own Life?
If I thought about it, no I really didn't have any control over my life. I had no choice in where I lived, at least as long as Sirius remained a fugitive. I had no control of where I go as Dumbledore says it's 'not safe' to wander to far from the blood wards. This couldn't go on any longer, if I go on letting other people making choices for me someone will wind up dead. Just like the past three years, it had only been dumb luck and the brilliance of Hermione that saved the day each year. I can't rely on that any more, I need to be able to defend myself and my friends from whatever ridiculous adventure comes this year. I made a promise to myself, to learn to be independent and strong so no one close to me gets hurt.
I sat up faster than I thought possible, I was determined to get started immediately, until I realized I had no idea where to begin. It was at that moment I asked myself a question that would change my life.
"What would Hermione do?"
That's when it hit me, she would learn all she can so she could be prepared for anything. That's what I had to do.
ID:Flashback end:ID
I smiled to myself at the memory, I really should send Hermione a thank you present for all the inspiration she's given me. Over the last five days I was proud to say I had accomplished more than I ever thought I could.
I made numerous trips to Diagon Alley, via the knight bus, and proceeded to buy countless books. Of course I disguised myself in a large hoodie once belonging to my cousin, couldn't have anyone recognize me after all. The topics of the books were various, defense, charms, potions, economics, politics, pureblood traditions, I couldn't afford to leave anything out.
It was for that same reason I journeyed into Knockturn Alley and purchased many books that would be labeled dark by the ministry. That didn't mean much to me considering my interaction with the minister last year and I purchased all I could. After all one had to know their enemy in order to defeat them.
It was on my third trip to Knockturn when I once again came across Borgin and Burkes, the same shop I saw Lucius Malfoy in before my second year. I knew the shop was filled with creepy wares and that former death eaters shop here. That didn't deter me, if anything it encouraged me. I walked subtly into the store and perused the items inside, all the while Borgin kept his eyes locked on me. I think the muggle attire made him weary of me but not enough to kick out a potential customer.
When nothing caught my interest I was almost ready to give up, I didn't know what half the objects in the store did and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know. As I was about to walk out I spotted a book bound in dark leather nearly buried in the back of the shop. Its title read 'real summoning rituals' I flipped through the pages and I couldn't help but be drawn to the book for some reason. I knew I couldn't learn all I have to in order to be respected on my own, I needed help and if no adult here could help him he would find another way.
When the shop owner less than kindly reminded me that his shop is not a library I decided to purchase the book. The owner looked ready to laugh at my choice of purchase but sold it to me anyway. It was only later that I found out the reason for his mirth.
All the books I had purchased on magical theory spelled out quite clearly that summoning rituals didn't work. Creatures that live outside this dimension and can be summoned via ritual is labeled as nothing more than a hoax. Not being one for taking things at face value anymore I looked once more to the leather bound book, written by Aquarius Lovegood, and decided to test this for myself.
This is what led me to this moment, having already prepared the summoning circle I checked the instructions one more time. The ritual was deceptively more easy than the book made it seem.
All that had to be done was draw the circle, push magic into it and chant in latin, simple as can be. It was one of the reasons I had chosen this particular ritual, as it was both easy and guaranteed the summoning of a powerful entity. It was exactly what I needed, I would summon this entity and ask it for training in becoming more powerful. That sentence would've sounded dark if not for the reasoning behind his actions.
I knelt to the ground and placed my hand on the outer circle and pushed my magic into it. I began to chant the words I had memorized flawlessly from the book and watched as the ritual circle turned red.
The thing most people don't realize or don't bother to learn is that rituals don't work, not because creatures can't be summoned but because most people don't have the power required to summon even the tiniest of creatures. That wasn't a problem when it came to the Potter heir.
After finishing the chant I continued to push my magic into the circle as the book never specified the amount needed. I began to lose and almost gave up before the circle began to rapidly heat up. So much so that I tried to withdraw my hand, fearing that it would be burned. That attempt was in vain as my hand was now rooted to the circle yet no burning occurred. I continued to watch in amazement as the circle burst into flames and two impossibly red eyes showed through the flames. I gulped as the demon I had summoned into the world glared at me.
The flames died down and revealed the entity I had summoned. His skin was a dark yellow, he had red eyes that looked upon him in anger and perhaps confusion. He had two small horns atop his bald head along with two fin like ears on either side of it. He had numerous scars all along his arms and fangs in his mouth that were not quite bared menacingly at him yet.
His attire was just as strange as his appearance, he wore a red sleeveless tunic with a black cape with a hood attached. He had small metal plates at his shoulders and metal bands around his hands and wrist. To finish off the odd ensemble he wore metallic leggings and black elf like shoes.
I didn't know what to expect from the demon towering over me, I had been so caught up in my goal that I had not considered what to do when I achieved them.
Even though I was scared beyond belief I refused to show it, I stood and looked the demon in the eyes. This seemed to impress him a bit or at least I hoped, as a little bit of anger seemed to dissipate from him. He looked ready to speak and I prepared myself for anything, threats, bargaining or attack, he was ready for anything.
"Who summons Etrigan the slayer, speak now child or say you're final prayer."
Out of all the things I expected the demon to do, rhyming was not one of them.
ID:Chapter end:ID
Hey guys I'm back with a whole new story, be sure to ask anything you want to know and for now I'll provide a little context.
I'm using the Etrigan from Justice League dark, if you haven't seen that movie watch it.
Harry may seem a bit dumb and impatient but keep in mind this is twelve year old Harry he'll learn more as he trains with Etrigan.
What do you guys think of me writing it in first person, I really need a beta for this one. Let me know your thoughts. I am unsure of the pairing except that Luna is a must.
That all for now, don't forget to review.