Disclaimer: Don't own nothing.


Searches and Discoveries

Sitting back, I admired my work. It had only been small, my influence. Just before retracting myself from his mind, I planted a tiny seed of information I knew he would stumble upon. So large was his knowledge of potions, he could not possibly remember where he learnt every piece of information about them, so that is why I planted the thought of teaching the Demon's Rue potion.

It can be dangerous to plant such pieces of information. Let's just say that I planted within your head the entire Portuguese language, so that one day you woke to find yourself able to speak and understand Portuguese. Bit bleeding obvious that someone's had a go at your head, yes? So therefore you could rid yourself of the knowledge. Destroy it because it is false.

Very rarely, however, does such a drastic invasive procedure need to be entered in upon. Usually just a spec of information is enough to set events in motion, and it certainly was in this case. Score one to me.

I was currently in the kitchens, pondering my work while helping to prepare the day's dinner. I decided that being a house elf was probably the best disguise I could hope for. Humans ignore house elves, they are almost entirely invisible, and they have access to the entire castle. Not only this, but they have much better eyesight than a cockroach and are a little less obvious than a nimbus of light floating around the place (my somewhat 'natural' appearance to a human's visual perception.) So I was Minky, or Binky, or Wobby, or some other ridiculous name I had yet to baptise myself with. Perhaps I should just choose 'The Great And All Powerful Nimbus' and be done with it.

I had moulded my appearance on as many planes as I could, especially as I was not doing anything too strenuous at the time. One has to be careful around house elves, seeing as they can see into the fourth plane (2 more than humans. I wonder who's going to have to spill it to them that their magic is actually quite cumbersome).

So as I was saying, I was careful not to reveal myself to the house elves while I pondered the events of the day. And by 'events' I mean 'lack thereof'. I had scanned the entire castle for the presence of another Jinn with no revelation.

A somewhat unorthodox house elf had ambled my way and was now talking animatedly to me, while I pretended to listen.

"…and poor Harry Potter was so tired that when I overheard Professor Moody talking to Professor…" I had heard nothing from this one's mouth for the past three hours except for the chronicles of the brave, wondrous, honourable, loyal Harry Potter whom, as far as I can make out, is decidedly stupid and has only managed to stay alive out of pure dumb luck.

"…and that is when brave Harry Potter pulled her from the lake with his friend…" I amused myself by debating whether to sock him over the head with a frying pan that I was currently working with or slipping him an enormous amount of butterbeer so that he would pass out. I liked the frying pan idea, as it was infinitely quicker though perhaps not quite so subtle.

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione hefted another tome down from the shelf and made her way towards her customary space in the library. There were not many people around at the moment, and she reckoned she could get in perhaps another hour of study before dinner.

After completing her essays on progressive transfiguration and experimental Herbology she had decided to begin on the potions essay. Not that there was any essay particularly set for it, but she knew that there would be. Inevitably. This was, of course, the real reason she began to research an assignment without it being set. It had absolutely nothing to do with the subtly curious way the Professor had been acting, and the benefits of the research she had gained while completing the werewolf essay a few years ago, (though perhaps the word 'benefits' was misplaced). No. That had nothing to do with it at all.

After reading a few scant chapters relating to Demons and the Demon's Rue potion, she had not found much more information than she did not already possess from her frequent recreational endeavours to the library.

The book she had open at the moment was entitled 'Disillusion, Distortion and Deception; A Demon's Almanac'. She was rather surprised that it was not in the restricted section, as she had initially thought most books pertaining to Demons would be. It seemed, however, that the wizarding world had become rather nonchalant about these creatures that had supposedly been the cause of so much havoc hundreds of years ago.

'Demons,' she read, 'are insidious creatures, their singular motivation being to cause chaos to humans, wizards and muggles alike. They delight in aligning themselves with wizards and witches who, in partnership, cause devastation to others. They can be initially summoned from Ifurin, their Hellish abode, which is said to be where they take their prey and subject them to relentless torture. Summoning a Demon from Ifurin is called the Primary Summoning.'

This had been the basic gist of most of the books she had looked through. This and not much else.

'There are three levels in the Demon Hierarchy. The first are Imps, who cannot do more than become a nuisance to whomever they are ordered to attack. Usually, a witch or wizard can perform a Primary Summoning of an Imp at the age of thirteen. The second is the Jinn. Their type are sly and cunning. They will usually exert their insidious nature upon unsuspecting victims, and leave before they are discovered. The third and most powerful is the Efreet. These creatures hold enormous power with which to cause ultimate havoc upon a population. They can only be Summoned by a powerful witch or wizard and are extremely difficult to control.'

The chapter went on to explain the hierarchy in more depth and of the many horrors each had performed over the many years. Spatted throughout the manuscript were various pictures of woodcarvings made to depict the Demons. Some showed enormous monsters causing a violent firestorm, others of the summoning of various Demons. A great many showed a diverse selection of objects that the Demons, especially the Imps and Jinn could be bound to.

One picture in particular caught Hermione's eye, although she didn't at first know why. It was one of the few that were moving, and it showed a family sitting down to dinner. A mother, father and two sons sat at a modest table in a small cottage. The boys were approximately nine or ten years of age and enjoying some type of soup.

Presently, however, the scene became dark, and two red eyes flashed from the page. At that moment, the mother and father suddenly rose from their seats and let out a great howl of pain. When their shrieking stopped, they snapped their head to look at their sons, who were by this time terrified. Their parent's eyes glowed red.

The boys stood as quick as they could and tried to run from the cottage, but they were too slow. Both parents cornered them off at the door and lunged at them with such viciousness that Hermione gasped and almost dropped the book. She watched in horror as the animated figures devoured what were their children and subsequently turned on themselves.

Hermione shuddered and made to slam the book shut, but just as she was about to, her eyes caught on something. She didn't realize what it was at first, though on a second glance it became apparent. At the window to the cottage, gazing in was a barely visible head. Hermione could not tell whether this person was male or female, nor how old they were, as the lines used to create the face's picture were rather crude, nevertheless, it was a face. Although this was not what had caught Hermione's attention. It was the fact that the face was saying something. Or mouthing it, at any rate, as she could not hear a word.

She squinted at the picture, trying to make out what the face was saying. It was watching the goings on inside the cottage with what seemed like little interest. Try as she might, however, Hermione could not make out one word.

The picture changed, then, and reset itself to depict the four sitting down to dinner. Deciding she did not want to witness the horrific scene before her again, she turned the page.

In the next chapter, there was another moving picture, which Hermione eyed warily. This one, however, showed an old witch brewing a potion, which Hermione suspected to be Demon's Rue. Next to her, sitting on a stool, was a young boy, handing the witch various potions ingredients as they were required. At least Hermione thought it was a boy, although she couldn't be entirely sure, as his clothes were rather plain and his face had no real defining features. He, as she convinced herself that the figure was a 'he', was speaking to the old woman. She, however, did not answer back.

"That's strange," Hermione said out loud, flicking back to the last picture of the cottage. She looked at the face peering through the window again. Then she flipped back to the boy on the stool. Flicking back and forth a few times she couldn't help but feel a sneaking suspicion that the boy on the stool was in fact the same as the boy outside of the cottage. She couldn't be sure, of course, as there were no explicit defining features, but there was something about them that was remarkably similar.

Flicking back and forth a few more times Hermione suddenly realized what it was. While the actual face was not created with much detail, the eyes gave off an identical expression.

Slamming the book shut, she hastily packed up her things, put all the books she had been using back on the shelves, except for the Almanac which she borrowed, and fled the library as fast as she could without attracting a detention.

Reaching the common room she gasped out "Meadowsweet," to the Fat Lady and rushed inside…

…and almost collided with Harry and Ron on their way out.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, pulling the both of them back inside the common room.

"Hermione! Wha-" Ron cried indignantly, stumbling backwards. "We were just on our way to dinner."

"I know," she gasped, "that's why I needed to see Harry now."

"Me?" Hermione did not bother to answer. Instead, she pulled the Demon's Almanac from her bag and opened it.

"Look at this," she pointed to the plain featured face peering through the window. Harry and Ron watched the scene.

"That's disgusting!" Ron said, making a face.

"No, not at the people in the cottage," she admonished, though she recognized her initial reaction in his, "look at the person outside it. See? The one looking in the window." The boys squinted to get a better look.

Ron looked back up at her.

"So?"

Harry also gave her a puzzled look. She flipped to the other picture and pointed to the boy on the stool.

"Now look at him." Both did. Ron's face remained in its confused state, while Harry looked more like he was considering something.

"I was wondering," Hermione spoke to him, "if you recognized the expression in the boys' eyes?"

Harry took the book from Hermione and did what she had done, flicking back and forth between pictures.

"It's almost as if…" he trailed off, flicking a few more times.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, hope in her eyes. Ron noticed her encouraging tone and became even more confused.

"Well, it's almost as if these people are…in a trance of some kind. It's almost as if…they're prophesising."

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, bringing confused stares from Harry and Ron. "That's exactly what I thought!"

"But I thought you didn't believe in divination, Hermione?" Ron remembered only too well how she had fared in that class.

"What I don't believe in," she said sternly, though the elation in her voice was not entirely smothered, "is crocks like Trelawney spurting prophecies every fifteen minutes. It's just that – I just had to be sure, because I've never seen anyone give a real prophecy before."

"So the kid in the book is prophesising," Ron shrugged, "So what?"

Hermione, however, ignored him. "Thanks Harry!" she exclaimed before racing up towards the girls dormitory.

"But Hermione!" Ron called after her, "What about dinner?"

"I'll sneak down to the kitchens later!" she exclaimed over her shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Ron looked at Harry, "You know what?" he challenged while they both walked out of the common room, "Sometimes I wonder if she's completely lost it."

Harry just smiled. He and Ron both knew that when it seemed Hermione had gone completely mad, she was on to something. All they had to do was wait a while before she saw fit to share it with them.

What they didn't realize was that they were about to have some pretty interesting information of their own.


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