Notes: Here is one of my new stories that has been plaguing me for awhile and finally pushed itself in front of my other stories, demanding to be written. This hasn't been proofed or checked by anyone but myself so it might be a little rough in spots and may change over time. But I thought you guys would like to see what been taking up most of my spare time. ^_^ Disclaimer at the bottom of the page, basically I don't own the Harry Potter characters.
Draco Demon
Part 1: The Glass Jar.
When I was little, lurking around the huge Malfoy manor was my way of having a good time. The rooms never seemed to end and I could never explore them all.
There was always something new to be found and new adventures to be had. Even when my father warned me about cursed objects and all of the rooms that were off-limits, I never worried. Feeling protected by the manor I had no fear of what I did or found.
But I should have been more careful. I guess I just wasn't expecting to find a demon hiding in plain sight. Of course at the time I didn't even know what it was. Sure my father had shown me plenty of dark arts but somehow I had never really paid much attention to the whole demon thing. They were dangerous and you could summon them to help you for a price that was usually too high. But I didn't know that sometimes they were sealed away in the most innocent of objects. I also didn't realize just how hard it was to resist them.
I found the glass jar one day in one of the cabinets in an unused part of the kitchen. It had a layer of dust on it that made me think it had been there forever. I don't know what made me brush off the dust and pick it up for a better look. I'd like to think that maybe I felt something or was influenced somehow but I was probably, just curious and careless.
It seemed pretty normal. It was a small jar that was square in shape and about five inches tall. It could fit in the palm of my hand. Inside it held smoke of all different colors that changed randomly. The only thing weird about it was that the stopper was made of gold. And the jar could talk.
//I can make your dreams, real.//
I think that should have been the point that I put the jar back where I had found it but for some reason I didn't. I also didn't take it to my father, I didn't think about it, really. I just took it up stairs and put it in my room. I studied it for awhile; I looked through my books and sneaked around my father's library looking for any mention of what was inside the jar. And everyday when I picked it up it would speak to me.
//Whatever you want, I can give it to you.//
By that time I think it was already too late for me. Still I'd listen to the jar and it would talk to me. Little things at first. But it seemed to become more loquacious the longer I kept it.
//I can help you become the best. Do whatever you desire.//
Days passed and I found that I couldn't just hide it again and walk away. I HAD to take it out and look at it each a day. I had to. I wondered, would it stop? I also wondered if maybe it was a fake, a joke.
//With me on your side, the people who stand in your way would be nothing but amusing clowns to be ridiculed and laughed at.//
But it started to tell me things, little things it knew. And I guess I started to see the possibilities of its promises.
//I could help you defeat him. I could help you make him the laughing stock of the school. With me, you could triumph against the Potter boy on the Quidditch field. You would be a hero.//
I was taken with its offer to shame Potter. But part of me was still wary and so I asked it my own question, "How do you know all of this?" And it didn't answer.
I held the small jar for over an hour waiting for that strange low voice to answer my question but it did not. I figured it hadn't heard me or maybe that it had said all it would for today. So I waited for tomorrow, wondering if it would actually answer.
But when tomorrow came and I held the jar it still said nothing. I asked it again and again. I waited for it to speak but still it remained silent.
I was furious. How dare this piece of glass and smoke defy me! How dare it tell me nothing! I was Draco Malfoy and it was only a small glass jar. I wanted to throw it, to break it, to destroy it. And I tried, with all of my might. But it wouldn't break. Not even when, with frustrated fury I threw it against the far wall of my room. It remained unbroken and as silent as before.
So I left it there and went out to salvage the day. Only I couldn't stop thinking about it, even as I tried everything I knew of to distract me. I tried to concentrate on other things, my schoolwork, plans to get back at people, lurking though the unused rooms for other weird things. But the mystery of the jar kept returning to taunt me.
I went back and forth with myself. On one hand I thought it was someone's idea of a very bad joke and if I found out whom, they would pay. My dad might have overlooked the whole demon thing but he'd taught me plenty about getting revenge. And I was sure that when caught, the joker who'd enchanted the talking jar wouldn't like the feeling of every nerve on their body screaming in pain.
On the other hand I wondered if it was powerful enough to give me an actual edge over Potter. Something of my own. My secret weapon since I doubted that anyone else had a talking magical jar that made promises of power.
And I really, really wanted to get back at Potter. He sure was such a nice and caring young man who thought he was so much better then everyone else. Hmph, as if. It always galled me how he was so blatantly hypocritical. "Look I'm Potter. I'm the 'boy who lived' I'm such a nice guy." I'd gotten Potter mad enough before to know that he was not the nice helpful guy people seem to think he is. Sure he would help people but only when it suited his fancy. I had offered my friendship to him but he was so rude. Turning my help down flat and I was only trying to save him from his inability to make good friends. That is, what father says Hogwarts is for really, "The accumulation of contacts that will help you advance yourself to a position of power or luxury." Really, where was Potter going to go with the Weasley boy and that mudblood girl? Tsk, I almost felt embarrassed for him.
Although he was a pretty good wizard and he did argue quite convincingly, almost as good as I did, I still hated his guts. Everything he did worked for him. Even when he broke the rules and anyone else would have been in serious trouble; he still managed to land on his feet.
I wanted him to fail.
I guess that was my mistake in the long run, being tempted by what the blasted thing could do for me. I should have asked more questions, I should have taken it to my father, or I should have thrown the horrid thing into a volcano. But I was always willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted whether it was the right thing or not. And with revenge I tended to be only more tenacious especially when it involved Potter. It seems all sense of self-preservation goes completely out the window when he's involved.
But I didn't know any of that at the time, too dedicated to the idea of hurting Potter to take into account that it hadn't asked for anything in return. Nothing is really free. I should have been more guarded.
The next day I took it out again and held it with destine, looking it over. Nothing had changed, it was still silent. And again I thought about destroying it. But then it spoke to me.
//Whatever you want I can give it to you.//
That was the same thing it had told me the first time.
"What do I have to do?" I asked without thinking, happy that it was back to talking. I wanted to beat Potter and if this thing could help me I was willing to do anything. I waited afraid it wasn't going to tell me. Afraid I'd missed my chance.
//You must open this jar.//
My relief was overpowering. "How do I that?"
//Find a knife of silver and pale of milk.//
"What do I do with them?" I was confused. It didn't sound quite right but I couldn't put my finger on why. I waited for an answer but the jar had gone silent, again. Only this time it was different, as if the air around me was expectant. So after waiting a little while, and hearing nothing else, I put the jar back away and went looking.
Neither item would be hard to find in the huge Malfoy manor but both were a little strange. I'd have to be careful not to arouse interest. My family was most annoying in its curiosity.
~~~~
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (it's true)
Part 1: The Glass Jar.
When I was little, lurking around the huge Malfoy manor was my way of having a good time. The rooms never seemed to end and I could never explore them all.
There was always something new to be found and new adventures to be had. Even when my father warned me about cursed objects and all of the rooms that were off-limits, I never worried. Feeling protected by the manor I had no fear of what I did or found.
But I should have been more careful. I guess I just wasn't expecting to find a demon hiding in plain sight. Of course at the time I didn't even know what it was. Sure my father had shown me plenty of dark arts but somehow I had never really paid much attention to the whole demon thing. They were dangerous and you could summon them to help you for a price that was usually too high. But I didn't know that sometimes they were sealed away in the most innocent of objects. I also didn't realize just how hard it was to resist them.
I found the glass jar one day in one of the cabinets in an unused part of the kitchen. It had a layer of dust on it that made me think it had been there forever. I don't know what made me brush off the dust and pick it up for a better look. I'd like to think that maybe I felt something or was influenced somehow but I was probably, just curious and careless.
It seemed pretty normal. It was a small jar that was square in shape and about five inches tall. It could fit in the palm of my hand. Inside it held smoke of all different colors that changed randomly. The only thing weird about it was that the stopper was made of gold. And the jar could talk.
//I can make your dreams, real.//
I think that should have been the point that I put the jar back where I had found it but for some reason I didn't. I also didn't take it to my father, I didn't think about it, really. I just took it up stairs and put it in my room. I studied it for awhile; I looked through my books and sneaked around my father's library looking for any mention of what was inside the jar. And everyday when I picked it up it would speak to me.
//Whatever you want, I can give it to you.//
By that time I think it was already too late for me. Still I'd listen to the jar and it would talk to me. Little things at first. But it seemed to become more loquacious the longer I kept it.
//I can help you become the best. Do whatever you desire.//
Days passed and I found that I couldn't just hide it again and walk away. I HAD to take it out and look at it each a day. I had to. I wondered, would it stop? I also wondered if maybe it was a fake, a joke.
//With me on your side, the people who stand in your way would be nothing but amusing clowns to be ridiculed and laughed at.//
But it started to tell me things, little things it knew. And I guess I started to see the possibilities of its promises.
//I could help you defeat him. I could help you make him the laughing stock of the school. With me, you could triumph against the Potter boy on the Quidditch field. You would be a hero.//
I was taken with its offer to shame Potter. But part of me was still wary and so I asked it my own question, "How do you know all of this?" And it didn't answer.
I held the small jar for over an hour waiting for that strange low voice to answer my question but it did not. I figured it hadn't heard me or maybe that it had said all it would for today. So I waited for tomorrow, wondering if it would actually answer.
But when tomorrow came and I held the jar it still said nothing. I asked it again and again. I waited for it to speak but still it remained silent.
I was furious. How dare this piece of glass and smoke defy me! How dare it tell me nothing! I was Draco Malfoy and it was only a small glass jar. I wanted to throw it, to break it, to destroy it. And I tried, with all of my might. But it wouldn't break. Not even when, with frustrated fury I threw it against the far wall of my room. It remained unbroken and as silent as before.
So I left it there and went out to salvage the day. Only I couldn't stop thinking about it, even as I tried everything I knew of to distract me. I tried to concentrate on other things, my schoolwork, plans to get back at people, lurking though the unused rooms for other weird things. But the mystery of the jar kept returning to taunt me.
I went back and forth with myself. On one hand I thought it was someone's idea of a very bad joke and if I found out whom, they would pay. My dad might have overlooked the whole demon thing but he'd taught me plenty about getting revenge. And I was sure that when caught, the joker who'd enchanted the talking jar wouldn't like the feeling of every nerve on their body screaming in pain.
On the other hand I wondered if it was powerful enough to give me an actual edge over Potter. Something of my own. My secret weapon since I doubted that anyone else had a talking magical jar that made promises of power.
And I really, really wanted to get back at Potter. He sure was such a nice and caring young man who thought he was so much better then everyone else. Hmph, as if. It always galled me how he was so blatantly hypocritical. "Look I'm Potter. I'm the 'boy who lived' I'm such a nice guy." I'd gotten Potter mad enough before to know that he was not the nice helpful guy people seem to think he is. Sure he would help people but only when it suited his fancy. I had offered my friendship to him but he was so rude. Turning my help down flat and I was only trying to save him from his inability to make good friends. That is, what father says Hogwarts is for really, "The accumulation of contacts that will help you advance yourself to a position of power or luxury." Really, where was Potter going to go with the Weasley boy and that mudblood girl? Tsk, I almost felt embarrassed for him.
Although he was a pretty good wizard and he did argue quite convincingly, almost as good as I did, I still hated his guts. Everything he did worked for him. Even when he broke the rules and anyone else would have been in serious trouble; he still managed to land on his feet.
I wanted him to fail.
I guess that was my mistake in the long run, being tempted by what the blasted thing could do for me. I should have asked more questions, I should have taken it to my father, or I should have thrown the horrid thing into a volcano. But I was always willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted whether it was the right thing or not. And with revenge I tended to be only more tenacious especially when it involved Potter. It seems all sense of self-preservation goes completely out the window when he's involved.
But I didn't know any of that at the time, too dedicated to the idea of hurting Potter to take into account that it hadn't asked for anything in return. Nothing is really free. I should have been more guarded.
The next day I took it out again and held it with destine, looking it over. Nothing had changed, it was still silent. And again I thought about destroying it. But then it spoke to me.
//Whatever you want I can give it to you.//
That was the same thing it had told me the first time.
"What do I have to do?" I asked without thinking, happy that it was back to talking. I wanted to beat Potter and if this thing could help me I was willing to do anything. I waited afraid it wasn't going to tell me. Afraid I'd missed my chance.
//You must open this jar.//
My relief was overpowering. "How do I that?"
//Find a knife of silver and pale of milk.//
"What do I do with them?" I was confused. It didn't sound quite right but I couldn't put my finger on why. I waited for an answer but the jar had gone silent, again. Only this time it was different, as if the air around me was expectant. So after waiting a little while, and hearing nothing else, I put the jar back away and went looking.
Neither item would be hard to find in the huge Malfoy manor but both were a little strange. I'd have to be careful not to arouse interest. My family was most annoying in its curiosity.
~~~~
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (it's true)