I don't own HP.

Xx

Alright, so maybe asking some random voodoo spirit to look at your soul could, perhaps, have been classified as a bad idea. Sure the man had been, to put it lightly, mildly traumatized by seeing a fraction of his true form, but he was a big boy. He could get over it… right? In any case, that brought them to right now. Sitting in a couple of high backed chairs in the middle of a huge vault, kilometers below london, nursing a couple of glasses of an amber colored alcohol he had found near the desk in the far corner of the room. Ogdens firewater, or something to that effect. Damn good stuff to. "So…" came the voice of the spirit to his right, breaking Bahamut out of his thoughts. "You're a…"

"Yes"

"Trapped in a…"

Bahamut hummed in an affirmative way.

"An' ya got no idea…"

Bahamut sighed before standing up and running a hand through his messy black hair. "Not a one, mate." he turned to the dark skinned spirit. "You know you're the first person…" he paused, "spirit… thing, i've told since it became stuck in this…" he gestured to his body in contempt. "I have to say, it feels a little refreshing."

Samedi took a long drink from his glass of fire whiskey, a look of deep thought on his face. Bahamut wasn't actually sure how he was drinking considering the man had no physical body to speak of, but small amounts of liquid disappeared every time he took a pull from his glass. He eyed Bahamut for a minute then shook his head. "I don' tink i can help 'ere. Got plenty o' a old an powerful hoodoo spells an' rituals floatin around me 'ead. But none come close ta bindin' somtin' like you. fuck.a"

Bahamut scowled before he plopping down in his chair once again. "I didn't expect you to." he took another pull from his firewhiskey. "So what about you? How'd a voodoo - what did you call yourself again?"

"Loa"

"Right. So how did a Voodoo loa, end up here of all places?" Bahamut looked expectantly at the minor godling.

"You see dat fucken man over dere. Da one snoozen in his portrait?" he gestured to the wall of sleeping portraits. Specifically to one resting on the floor. Its occupant could be an older sibling to this body. It makes sense since it's probably an ancestor of it. "Name o' Chalus Potter." he said the name with as much disdain as he could muster. "Man comes into my graveyard during a voodoo ritual. Notin serious jus' good people tryin' win favor wit us. One of da few times we get to experience real life is when we mount a person. Well, 'ere come brave little charlus, sticken 'is nose where it don' fucken belong."

no, Bahamut thought, he's not bitter at all.

"Tinks' we're dark spirits or sometin'. Starts droppin ma priests an followers like dere flys. legba, starts usherin us back to our realm. It's slow, de gap between our fucken worlds aint dat big. Starts shoutin' spells den, BAM!" Samedi slams his hand down on his knee. " i wake up here. Bound to dat old iron ring. Can' touch de dam ting'."

Bahamut stood and walked to the ring in question. He picked it up and examined it. On the surface it looked like any commonplace iron band. On closer inspection into the inside of the ring there were intricately woven, interconnected jumble of old celtic and norse runes. Widening his gaze into the ethereal spectrum revealed further runes carved into the surface of the ring. He scowled at this. Right at the heart of the array was a rune not written in celtic or norse, but draconic. A powerful binding rune originally used to bind the more… rambunctious elemental spirit. "Look here." he pointed to the rune as Samedi walked over. "See this rune?"

"No."

Bahamut arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really." Samedi replied in a dry tone. Bahamut sighed at this before explaining to the old spirit what was engraved on the ring. Needless to say Samedi wasn't thrilled with the news. "So what do ya tink' it means? Can' be a coincidence. Can' it?."

"Maybe." bahamut scratched his chin. "I mean draconic isn't exactly a common language. it's also not a language many humans know. They think we're mindless beasts. I mean the young drakes are. But not the ancients or the adults. But for a human to learn… it's a feat i'll admit that." he shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Draconic runes are powerful and old. Not powerful enough to bind me. You, easily." he gestured to samedi. "There are only about three older languages. Primordial, sylvan and celestial. I doubt sylvan could. Fey creatures usually never bound anything to my knowledge. Celestial, definitely could, but there's not a being in the world who could even comprehend that language. Myself included. " He paused in thought for a few minutes. " i never even thought to check for primordial magics. I was too preoccupied with being trapped."

Baron Samedi was silent for a awhile. Taking in and digesting new information about magics that were, to put it mildly, far beyond his reach and understanding. He honestly thought himself a fairly powerful loa. Being a master of death was nothing to scoff at after all. But in light of information that made his powers seem like baby's' first necromancy was… unsettling.

Sensing the tension in the room. Samedi decided that now was as good a time as any for a smoke. Took off his hat and produced a cigar from it and bit off the end, before snapping his finger, a small flame igniting from his thumb, and lit it. Bahamut didn't seem to notice or if he did did not comment on the now smoking loa. They sat in comfortable silence for a time before bahamut stood and took to studying the ring, again. "So tell me, how long after i put this ring on are you going to try and possess me?" he asked, eyeing the runes on the outside of the ring.

Samedi laughed. A loud full bodied laugh that echoed around the chamber. "Me friend, i couldn't possess ya on ma best day and your worst. Also we call it mounting, not possessing." the old loa walked over to Bahamut and put a hand on his shoulder. "So? Ya gonna bust me out o' ma prison."

Bahamut shrugged before slipping the ring on his finger. Satisfied after a few seconds of nothing he put his hands on his pockets before heading for the vault door, and the sour faced goblin that awaited him outside and a madly grinning loa behind him.

Xx

Quick A/N

Samedi's speech patterns are going away. I thought it was a good idea at the time and i was wrong. Also sorry for short chapter but i'll trying and correct that in the future.

DarkPhoenix332: thank you for your review.

Harrington21: thank you for your words of encouragement,