Well! Guess who's back, ladies and gents, after a long exile! Although, to be fair, I did warn you beforehand. If you review, loves, it'll feed my muse and you can read more. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for parts of the story line and my little twists. Things you recognize are probably from the books or TV show.
BOOK ONE
Chapter IV
Harry exhaled in relief when he was passed and undetected by Filch. The minuscule sound seemed to have been picked up by Mrs. Norris' sharp ears, because the cat turned and its yellow eyes bored into the darkness. Harry knew that the cloak was impenetrable, but a shiver ran down his spine, and he stood as still as he could, not daring to breathe until the light of their lantern had disappeared far down the passage.
Somehow, whenever he tried to sneak out of the dorms, Filch ended up on his tail. Either the man had a sixth sense or he and Harry shared a special connection – horrified at the idea, Harry shook his head vigorously. It would be better not to dwell such a disturbing thought.
Hermione hadn't yet replied to his letter. Every now and then, he would start panicking until he realized that it had only been a couple days. Consequently, he found himself walking the halls of Hogwarts at the dead of night to find information about Nicholas Flamel. Not only did it keep his mind off the possibly possessed Neville, but he wanted to have something concrete to show Hermione (and Ron, of course) at the end of the holidays.
Over the past two days, he had ransacked the Hogwarts library for information on the man (to the annoyance of Ron, who had told him that there were holidays for a reason and that he was going to end up just like Hermione) but the results were disappointing. Truth be told, Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card had given them more information on the man than all of the books combined, and it had only revealed Flamel's name. Harry's desperate final shot consisted of breaking into the restricted section of the library and hoping against all hope that Madam Pince wouldn't find and murder him in the process.
The door was locked, but that small problem was fixed with a whispered "Alohomora!" and Harry slipped inside. He took off his cloak and folded it gently, staring about him with equal parts interest and apprehension.
The bookshelves loomed in front of him as he passed, his lantern throwing only the smallest circle of light. The restricted section was enclosed with tall metal bars (it looked too much like a prison cell for his comfort) and the door had a deadbolt, but queerly enough another simple Alohomora got him past these defenses as well. He was starting to feel uneasy.
The restricted books were mostly those that were old or particularly rare, or those that contained dark magic. There were rows upon rows of them, and he hurried to the F's, pleasantly surprised when he found a line of books, all entitled Flamel, or Flamel: Contributions to Alchemy, or Flamel and the Key to Immortality. He frowned when he saw that one and quickly extracted it from its shelf.
"What comes to mind when one hears the name 'Nicholas Flamel?'"
Harry narrowed his eyes. Nothing if there's no information to be got except in restricted sections.
"For some, it is his remarkable accomplishments in the field of alchemy. For others, it is his unique life story, or his connection to one of the greatest modern wizards, Albus Dumbledore. However, Flamel's most marvelous achievement remains the creation of his Philosopher's Stone, to which is attributed his exceptionally long and continued life, as well as that of his wife."
His interest peaked, Harry continued to read eagerly.
"From the Philosopher's Stone can be drawn the elixir of life, which is..."
His lantern crashed to the ground, instantly blinking out. He had absently cuffed it with his elbow. Frozen, he stared at the shattered glass until a waspish voice broke him out of his trance.
"Who's there? Who's in the library after hours?"
He groaned internally and managed to whisk the book back into the shelf and hide himself and his lantern under the invisibility cloak before Madam Pince could see him. Did she live in the library? She was a most inconvenient and inconsiderate old lady.
Madam Pince stuck her head between each row of shelves with beady, suspicious eyes. Harry hurriedly gathered the broken glass, trying to make as little noise as possible, but they clinked together and Madam Pince's head snapped in his direction. The door to the restricted section creaked open as she stalked inside. Harry was just able to hop out of the way as she swept past him and he fled without looking back, hoping he hadn't left any incriminating evidence.
At least he knew now (or he thought he knew) what Snape was trying to steal and what Fluffy was guarding. Whatever the elixir of life was, it sounded as if it was difficult to obtain and probably rather valuable. The package had to be the Philosopher's Stone. He returned to the dungeons highly pleased with himself, even with his heart still pounding erratically.
He seemed to be having a lucky streak. The next morning, Hedwig soared into the Hall with a crisp, fat letter hanging from her claws. Harry tore it open eagerly. The paper was covered in Hermione's neat schoolgirl's handwriting.
Dear Harry, she wrote. I'm so glad that you like your book! I already wrote Ron and told him that I'm glad he kept his word, but you can tell him again, from me, if you want to. You've read a lot if you've already gotten to the demon section.
I've done a lot of research as you asked. I'm not sure how much of it you really want but I'll include it all as you seem interested. Don't worry, I enjoyed it immensely.
Because demons are discussed in some areas of the Christian faith, it's generally believed that holy items, such as blessed water, will repel them. According to a book I found ("Biblical Lore" if you're interested in looking it up yourself; unfortunately that's quite a general name), holy water burns when it comes in contact with the skin of the possessed. Saying "Christo" will make the possessed man or woman's eyes turn black. Also, salt is believed to be a purifier, and will both burn and repel a demon.
Some runic circles act as wards and will form an invisible but impenetrable wall that demons are unable to cross. I've included a small illustration below:
Harry squinted at the rough diagram she'd written. He had no idea what some of the symbols meant, but he would hopefully be able to copy it. He resolved to practice several times before putting it to real use.
I also learned about exorcisms (I'm sure you've heard of those before) that expel demons from their hosts. I'm not sure if you know this, but while being possessed, a human is often completely comatose – I thought that would be an interesting little extra bit of information. Unfortunately I couldn't find the wording of an exorcism in any of the books.
Harry barely suppressed a groan of disappointment. An exorcism would have been exceedingly useful. He would have to find one himself. He had still only read about half of Hermione's letter. She had plenty more to tell him, but he didn't mind having to answer such a long missive as he was grateful to have so much to work with.
That's basically all I've found out so far. It would be much better if you could somehow get to a regular library and research yourself... then you can look for exactly what you want. I wasn't quite sure what you were trying to find, so I just read random bits of information and trying to piece it together into something somewhat coherent. My parents are probably worried about me, looking up dark things like demons and exorcisms!
There was a small blot here, as if Hermione had tried to smudge out the last few words, but had decided against it.
But I really don't mind, Harry, I don't. I'm very glad you approached with your question. Anyway, I'll tell you what I've been doing so far over hols.
Mum and Dad invited my Uncle Robert and Aunt Vivien over for Christmas dinner, along with their little son, Jeremy. I love him, but he is rather loud. Besides, he has an extremely unhealthy obsession with superheroes, especially one called Spiderman. Boys will be boys, I expect.
Dad also insisted that we invite his Great-Aunt Abby. Oh, Harry, she was absolutely horrid. She said I was scrawny and that I read too much, and that I shouldn't wear ugly sweaters at family gatherings (that sweater was Mrs. Weasley's gift, too!). She was a horrible old hag, and I'm not sorry for saying so.
Mum and Dad are taking me skiing this last weekend before school starts again. I'm awfully excited for that, but I'll be glad to go back to Hogwarts and to see you and Ron. I've got to go now. Mum is calling me down for dinner and Hedwig looks dreadfully impatient.
I hope you are enjoying holiday.
Your friend,
Hermione Granger
He folded the paper thoughtfully. Fortunately Neville had gone home like the rest of the students (although Harry was sort of worried for Grandmother Longbottom, he was glad that he had some time to think and plan). There were only five days left, one of which was full, as Ron told him that Mrs. Weasley had owled them about going to Diagon Alley on Saturday. That left four gloriously empty days.
If he was lucky, he would be able to slip away from the Weasley's to London to purchase the necessary materials. He doubted any of the professors had holy water, and it would be difficult and risky to steal salt (What could he do? Pour it into his pocket during breakfast?). He would also have to allot time to go to a library and hopefully find an exorcism. He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that the job wouldn't be as easy as it sounded.
"Harry! Ron! Stay out of the way!"
Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded as if it came from the end of a long tunnel, and was nearing rapidly. Harry hurriedly pushed Ron to the side of the fireplace as she popped out, her hat askew and her clothes rumpled. Ginny followed, holding very tightly to Fred's (or George's) hand. He still couldn't tell them apart – at least at first glance. Once he started a conversation with them (if he got that far at all; often he found himself the butt of a prank before he could say a word) he could distinguish them, as George seemed the quieter twin and Fred the more dynamic.
The Weasley matriarch looked around at her large family and sighed, half with affection and half in despair. Harry tried his best to shrink behind Ron, feeling very conspicuous indeed. His coloring contrasted considerably with the red and orange heads that surrounded him.
He just hoped he wouldn't draw anyone's attention. That would probably be the least convenient thing that could happen during this venture. Not for the first time since they'd left, he wished he had told Ron. He could have used the help and company. But that would have required him to risk disbelief and explain everything about Neville and demonic possession, which would have been both tedious and time consuming.
"Harry? Harry!"
He jumped. From the volume of Ron's voice, he had probably been trying to get his attention for some time.
"Sorry, I didn't hear you."
"Obviously," Ron scoffed. "Me standing right beside you and all. Can't you see we're going? Don't stare at Gringotts. It has nothing interesting... not considering the money, of course."
Harry laughed.
"I was just thinking."
"What about?"
They fell into step with each other, trailing some distance behind the rest of the group.
"Snape," Harry lied hurriedly. He scratched his ear guiltily.
Ron nodded in understanding.
"Yeah, he's a strange old geezer. I wonder how he does it. Is he ever holding his wand?"
Harry wrinkled his nose, forgetting for a moment what "it" was.
"I don't think so," he admitted finally. "But there is such a thing as wandless magic, you know."
"True."
Thankfully, Ron didn't pry any further. He merely rubbed his nose mournfully (he was only just recovering from a cold; a nasty one that had kept him in bed for several days) and promptly tripped on the unraveling hem of his robe. He reddened and gathered it up while Harry looked pointedly away.
He was always rather embarrassed when he was with the whole Weasley clan. When it was him and Ron and Hermione chumming around, it was easy to forget their financial differences. But when it was just him in the middle of the family, he was uncomfortably aware of the heavy gold Galleons that weighed down his pocket. Ron graciously made no comment. If his ears reddened while Harry paid his bills with his never-ending supply of coins, nobody mentioned it.
When they rejoined the rest of the group, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were missing, presumably off on some little errand of their own, but all the boys (and Mr. Weasley, too, although he pretended reluctance) went eagerly to the Quidditch shop to look at the new Nimbus.
A large crowd had gathered around the door and window, excitedly pointing at the gleaming broom that hung on display. They joined the people, squeezing as close as they could to the exhibit. Fred and George were already whispering to each other about the technicalities of the game and how well the Nimbus would perform, while Ron hung around them with a wistful expression and wished to be included.
Harry would have dawdled with Ron on the outskirts of the conversation if he was interested in Quidditch, but he wasn't. He might have been had he known much about the game, but first years weren't allowed on the team and he had been far too busy over the past half year to research the rules. He realized suddenly that he had not gone even once to the games and wondered if it would be (or had been already) viewed as disloyalty towards Slytherin. After the mishap of his first flying lesson, the brooms and height and speed of Quidditch held little intrigue for him.
He looked about himself to find the other members of the Weasley family and found none in sight. It seemed almost too easy, but he wouldn't poke up his nose at good luck. Slipping back through the crowds and into the cobbled street, Harry sprinted until he decided that he was more conspicuous running and slowed to a walk.
Diagon Alley was rather long. He panted and kept his eyes glued to the ground. Unfortunately, he very nearly ran into Mrs. Weasley, who was coming out of a clothing shop with Ginny in tow. She was mumbling to herself and rummaging through her sack and so missed him. He shrank back just in time to avoid crashing into her, but Ginny caught sight of him and started in surprise.
"Mummy, look, there's..."
Harry signed frantically for her to be quiet.
"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Weasley inquired absently, lifting her head to look at her youngest child. Ginny quickly looked away from Harry and pointed to the shop across the street.
"... the book shop," she continued hurriedly. "They have... all the books for next year."
"Yes, dear."
"I'm going to Hogwarts next year, Mum."
"I'd forgotten. How about if we go over and take a look?"
"I'd like that. I'm so excited," said Ginny, with mournful resignation.
Their voices blended with the noise of the crowd as they crossed the street. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stole into Gringotts. The goblins were rather intimidating, but he had to have Muggle money if he wanted to do anything in London.
"Excuse me," he said politely to the creature on the other side of the counter. The goblin grunted and continued counting coins. Harry shifted and hoped he wasn't being offensive.
"Could I exchange a few Galleons for pounds?"
The goblin grunted again and held out a grimy hand. Harry eyed it dubiously but dropped a few Galleons into it. The goblin licked his finger and felt them over carefully. He must have found them satisfactory because he grunted again, a little more pleased this time rather than dour, and counted out fifty pounds sterling. Harry took it thankfully (more time was being used up by the second, and he was afraid Mr. or Mrs. Weasley might find him before he escaped).
It was ridiculously easy to slip out of the alley with a group of young witches. They chattered and laughed and rustled their packages loudly, and he only had to be whisked through the gap in the brick wall. He left them and hurried to the door, throwing it open and stepping out into Muggle London.
A car squealed past him, lights glaring in his eyes, followed by another, and another. He jumped back as one splashed through a puddle, spraying him with dirty water, and he wiped his face with his sleeve. It was noisy in Diagon Alley, but this was far noisier, and more bustling, and huge.
"What on earth am I doing here?" he muttered out loud, staring at the tall building across the street. "This has got to be the stupidest idea I've had yet."
An old lady gave him a strange look as she passed, holding tightly to the leash of a small pug, and he remembered suddenly that he was still in his robes.
When he'd changed, he gathered his wizard's robes into his bag (he had a black Muggle backpack he'd bought during his shopping expedition with Hagrid) and walked a little way down the street, feeling utterly lost. He hadn't had time to look for a map, so he tried to remember where the nearest library was, and made a hash of it, as he had only been to London twice in his life.
It was disconcerting to stand in the middle of a busy city street and to be alone and not to know what exactly you were doing. He was getting hungry, too, and he didn't have much time before the Weasley's found him (he wasn't particularly stealthy and plenty of people could probably recognize him, not to mention Ginny, who might eventually blurt out the truth).
He was saved by a little information office. It was near what he presumed was a historical building and seemed to be full of brochures. A bell tinkled gently as he walked in, and the woman at the counter looked up, smiling.
"Hello, dear," she said kindly. "How may I help you? Are you lost?"
"No," Harry told her, smiling back, "but thank you. I've just moved down the street with my mum and dad, and I wondered if you knew where the nearest library was. The new term is starting soon and I want to be prepared."
"I'm pretty sure there's one a few blocks away," she said thoughtfully, reaching down to take some sheet of paper. She examined it carefully.
He suddenly wondered if she could be a demon, and then he wondered if he was becoming paranoid. But he muttered "Christo" under his breath (it seemed the least obvious and the most easily accessible of the tests). She didn't react to the word besides giving him a puzzled glance. He sighed in relief.
"Here it is!" She slapped the paper onto the counter, and he saw that it was a map of the area nearby. "Two blocks, take a left, walk another three blocks and it's on your right."
"Thank you so much. Do you mind if..." he gestured to the map.
"Oh, of course not."
He stowed it away in his backpack and smiled at her once more as he left.
This librarian was the exact opposite of Madam Pince. She was a pretty young woman with braided hair and thick-rimmed spectacles who helpfully pointed him out to the section on Christian and Biblical lore (he'd explained that he was writing a school paper in case she came upon him reading an exorcism). It was a small section of the library, and secluded.
He gathered a pile of books that seemed likely places to start and settled down at the single table that stood between the bookshelves, feeling very much like Hermione. It was easy enough to find an exorcism; in fact, there were so many he wasn't sure which to choose. He settled on the most basic one and began to copy it onto a scrap of paper.
Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.
The words sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. He had taken a short Latin language course in third grade, but it was enough for him to realize the main gist of words. Satanica potestas? And secta diabolica? But he did grin at the next part. He would have given one thousand galleons just to see Malfoy's face if he was informed that his name was in a Muggle exorcism.
"Are you finding everything that you need?"
He jumped and spun around, slamming the book closed with a solid thud. The librarian looked startled. Harry gaped at her for a moment (he was more surprised at himself than anything) and then snapped his mouth shut.
"I'm sorry," he said, with a quick, nervous laugh. "You surprised me."
His fingers groped for the copied exorcism and he crumpled it into his fist. The young woman blinked.
"I'll speak up sooner next time so I don't," she told him, smiling. Her eyes flickered black and her grin widened.
Harry froze for a moment in shock before tumbling off his chair and scrambling away. There was only a window behind him, and it was far too high for him to use as an escape route. The woman flashed her white teeth at him.
"Oh, don't run away from me, little boy," she pouted. "I'm not scary, am I? I'm just friendly, helpful Miss Trent."
"Get away from me," said Harry, his voice shaking. "Get away from me, I tell you!"
She curled her lip derisively.
"Oh, so you're a coward. I hate cowards."
Suddenly he was thrown backwards, his arms and legs pinned to the wall. He struggled to move, but in vain. The demon sauntered towards him and stroked his cheek.
"So smooth and pretty," she crooned.
"Stop it!"
She rolled her eyes boredly and turned to the books he had gathered on the table.
"What have we here? Looking up some Christian lore, were you? You didn't happen to find some exorcisms?"
Harry strained his neck to stare down at the scrap of paper he held. The words were only just legible on the crumpled paper.
"Exorcizamus te," he whispered, hoping frantically that she wouldn't notice him, "omnis immundus spiritus..."
Her head snapped back and she gave an angry hiss.
"You little fool," she snarled, curling her fingers into claws. "Wait till I get my hands on you!"
All he could do was rush through the rest of the words, his voice faltering as she began to writhe and shriek and foam at the mouth (why did no one come?).
"... omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."
With a loud scream, she threw back her head and a cloud of black smoke burst out of her mouth, gathering in a large mass over her head before dispersing. He fell to the ground with a gasp of relief, sobbing hysterically from fright. He heard a shrill voice speaking and realized it was his own, trying to finish the exorcism. He clutched his chest and took huge gulps of air.
"It's over," he whispered, trapped in a state of utter panic. "It's over, it's over."
He crawled to the woman stretched prone on the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably. It was too difficult to roll her dead weight over, but he lifted her eyelids and saw only the whites of her eyes.
"What happened?" someone asked him.
He shook his head, still grasping her crisp, ruffled shirt.
"I don't know... I don't know. It was a seizure... or... or... something... she just... collapsed... it..."
To his horror, he almost broke into sobs again. Someone took hold of his shoulder gently and guided him to his feet. He clung unashamedly to his rescuer (it must have been a man, judging from the cut of the dull greenish jacket).
"Why don't you go telephone the police, buddy?" the man suggested kindly.
"O... okay. I'll do that."
Somehow he made his way to the wired telephone (he remembered vaguely how it worked; the Dursleys hadn't let him use theirs much) and punched in a number. He waited anxiously, his breath catching. His heart was still pounding and he started violently when a voice answered.
"Hello. Police."
"Hello." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I... I need help. It's... there's a woman... she's had a seizure. Could you send an ambulance, please?"
"Right away. Stay on the line, sonny, I'll..."
Harry put down the phone on the desk. The man who had helped him earlier was still busy with Miss Trent, and a small gathering of people had clustered around the woman's inert body, so he was able to steal out of the library unnoticed, having gotten what he needed.
His legs felt like jello. Sitting agitatedly on the steps outside the library, he studied his map. There was a church one block away, and a shop two blocks away in the opposite direction. Wearily, he rose to his feet and rolled it up, stuffing it in his pocket as he began to trudge in the direction of the church.
"Mr. Potter, this is unacceptable. Students are not to wander about on their own, especially without informing their guardians. I believe I made that clear before you left."
Professor McGonagall glared at him over the tops of her spectacles and he squirmed uncomfortably. Her office was bare and impeccably clean; it felt like a courtroom.
"I'm sorry..." he started, but she cut him off.
"You'll serve detention with me after dinner, every night for four weeks. I trust you'll come here on time?"
Harry nodded, staring at his feet.
"Very well, Mr. Potter, you may go. But you are not to leave the school premises until the summer holidays."
"Yes, Professor."
He gloomily rose and walked to the dorms, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The only good things that had come of his little expedition to Muggle London were the supplies. Otherwise, both Mrs. Weasley and Ron were upset with him, he had received four weeks of detention, and he had had a terrifying encounter with a demon.
In some ways he was glad for that. Now he wouldn't have to use Neville to experiment on the aftereffects of possession. He had also gotten some experience, although hardly enough to make him feel comfortable confronting a being with that amount of power... and evil power at that.
Again, and not for the first time, he wished that his friends could help him. He knew, however, that it would only put them in danger, and that three inexperienced people could bungle up more than one inexperienced person. And then there would be a small issue if Neville turned out not to be possessed, in which case it would be less humiliating if only he witnessed his own shame.
But he still wished he wasn't working alone.
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