Disclaimer: If I owned everything that belongs to J.K. Rowling, I wouldn't be writing for fanfiction.net.
Dedication: To Dumbledorevna. Everything that she writes makes my work look like rubbish, which makes me appreciate her all the more. (If you would like to read her story, it's in my "favourite story" file under my bio.)
Look at me, you may think you see who I really am,
But you'll never know me
Everyday, it's as if I play a part,
Now I see, if I wear a mask I can fool the world,
But I cannot fool my heart.
Whose is that face I see,
Staring straight, back at me,
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Some how, I cannot hide, who I am, though I tried,
When will my reflection show who I am inside?
When will my reflection show, who I am inside?
~"Reflection" from Mulan
Harry sat sitting at a table,
surrounded by a pile of books. He had
never thought that he would have gone as far around the bend as he had…actually
studying for exams…but, he supposed, that was the effect that working
with Hermione had on him. He opened his copy of Demons: Can You Damn
Them? which he had borrowed from Hermione and began to read. He'd be
facing two demons tomorrow; one from the second predicent and one from the
third, and he wasn't exactly happy about it. It just goes to show that you
should never tell your parents that one demon is too easy. He sighed, and hoped
Hermione would come back soon from the library, to provide some form of
distraction. Not that it would be much, but just to talk to
someone…anyone…instead of reading that bloody book…
"Hey Harry," said Ron, coming up behind him and sitting on a chair. Harry fought the urge to hit himself over the head with the said book, and made a mental note to be more selective about whom he wanted to talk to. Ron was, quite frankly, ranking just below Draco Malfoy, and just above Snape and Voldemort. Harry and Hermione hadn't thought of anything plausible to tell him, so Harry had taken to avoiding Ron whenever he came into the common room, until something could be thought of.
"Hi Ron," Harry forced a smile, and looked back down at his book, hoping he looked buried in work, and not very approachable.
"What're you doing?"
So much for looking unapproachable.
"I have a huge essay due soon," said Harry tightly.
"With who? Harry, you haven't been to classes in three days."
"I know," oh, why didn't Hermione come back yet? Anything was better than this…
"Well, why not?" Ron looked closely at Harry, who was still looking down at his book. "Hey," he said, "is anything wrong?"
Hermione walked in the portrait hole with another pile of books.
Harry gave a mental sigh of relief.
"Hi," He said, hopping up and grabbing some of the books that tottered dangerously at the top of her pile.
"Hi," said Hermione, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the unexpected warm welcome. Harry gave a practically imperceptible gesture in Ron's direction with his head. Hermione's eyes widened. She quickly hurried over to the table, and dropped the pile of books on it.
Now it was Ron's eyes that were narrowing suspiciously.
"Alright, what's going on?" he said.
"Do you want to tell him, Harry?" Asked Hermione.
Harry shook his head in an empathetic no.
"Well, you see…" Hermione trailed off, and seemed to gather her thoughts. "What's happening is…" She stopped again.
"Hermione and I are going to be aurors," Harry blurted out.
Hermione blinked.
"What?" asked Ron.
"We didn't want to tell you because we were afraid that you would be upset," said Hermione, while Harry nodded vigorously in agreement.
"And, you see, we have to take all these extra classes from Professor Lupin…and…Sirius…and…" Harry trailed off again, silently asking help from Hermione.
"And…Dumbledore," added Hermione. "You know, with all the you-know-who stuff that happened last year, they wanted to start training people a little early…and…"
"Well, they picked Hermione because she was head of the class…and…they picked me because…" Harry trailed off again, at a loss for something to say. "Well, quite frankly, I'm not sure what good I'll do them…after all, people do seem to keep dying if they hang around with me too long…"
"They picked you because you're Harry Potter." Said Ron quietly, excepting what he supposed he would have to be dealing with if he continued to be friends with Harry. It didn't mean he had to like it, of course.
"I get it," he said bitterly, "after all, I'm normally just some dumb git along for the ride."
"No, that's not it…"
"Ron…"
Ron stood up. "I suppose you have to finish your essay," he said. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning," and with that, he walked up the stairs to the boys dormitory.
"That went well," said Harry sarcastically. "Now what do we do?"
"Study," said Hermione firmly, pushing a book at Harry.
"Bugger to that," he said snidely. "I'm going to bed."
Hermione sighed and picked up a book.
~**~
"Alright everyone, you know the drill," said James. "Two demons in there now. One from the second predicent, and one from the third. I'll give you a count off, and open the door, and you run in. We'll give you thirty minutes this time around, because you have more demons this time. Have fun."
Harry looked tense. Hermione looked like she was about to be sick all over.
"Are you alright?" Lily whispered to Hermione.
"I'm fine," she said tightly, gritting her teeth. "I'm alright. I'm fine, I just didn't get much sleep last night is all."
Lily nodded sympathetically. "Well," she said, "at least you're not doing the fighting."
"Quite," said Hermione.
"Are you ready?" said James. Harry and Hermione nodded. "Alright then," he said. "One, two, three…"
And he opened the door.
~**~
And promptly shut it again, after Harry and Hermione had run inside. This room was larger, with more chairs, and tempting teddy bears placed here and there to lure out the demons. Harry and Hermione looked around. Harry spotted the first one. It had a flat, earless, head, and its entire body was covered in what appeared to be mould. Fuzzy, green mould. Here and there, there were splotches of grey, which gave it the appearance of a moss coloured boulder. It's eyes cast down, Harry couldn't see the colour of them, but he supposed it would be something equally unalarming as the demon itself. He barely stifled a giggle. Hermione elbowed him sharply, and gave him a look that was reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. Well, this was easy enough. One merely had to talk to the demon to know which predicent it was from. It all depended on how politely it responded to "hello." If you let it talk for too long, it could take advantage of you, as Harry had found out.
"Hello," said Harry.
"'Ello," the demon muttered. It ventured a look up, which revealed its eyes to be a very soft shade of pale pink, which clashed horribly with the moss green. It had a cockney accent, and was, yet again, not as alarming as a proper demon should be. "What in the blazes do you want?" It demanded.
"Nothing," said Harry, grinning cockily. "Nothing at all. I damn thee to the second predicent. Dante." And with that, it vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind it a tormented sigh. Harry looked around for the next one.
"You know, this is very easy," he said.
"Famous last words," muttered Hermione.
The next demon was quickly found. It had snuck out to steal one of the teddy bears, and had scorched a chair in the process. It was round, incredibly so, and gave Harry the odd impression of a cream puff. It was a pale brown all over, except in the middle, where it had tiny white-hot flames that danced around the exact centre, like a tutu. It didn't have any perceptible head or neck, it's face was just above the ring around it's middle, and on the very top of it, it had more white hot flames, which curled in a way that made it look like more cream on top. Just looking at it made Harry very hungry.
The demon was looking extremely shifty, it had hidden the bear behind it's back and was edging away behind a chair, except it stopped when the upholstery caught on fire from it's cream-hair. Hermione put it out with her wand. The demon jumped at the water, and looked up. It's eyes were an unalarming shade of pale yellow.
"Wot do you want?" It had a ghastly accent, Hermione couldn't place it. Whatever it was, she wanted it gone. Harry, apparently, didn't want it either. He didn't even bother to say Hello.
"I damn thee to the third predicent," he said swiftly. "Dante." And the demon, yet again, vanished, with a small cry and a "pop," similar to that of apparition.
"Hah," said Harry, "That was not famous last words. Nothing happened…"
"I beg to differ," said a voice smoothly. The voice sent shivers down Hermione spine. It was an educated voice, one that had the ring of Eton about it. It was a silky, perfect baritone, made all the more imposing by its very perfection. Harry turned around. After bracing herself, so did Hermione.
It was a demon, one that Hermione had never seen before, not even in textbooks. But it wasn't comical, it wasn't even remotely amusing. It was the type of demon who made nightmares. It had shoes shined to such perfection that Hermione could see her reflection in them. Above those shoes was a black suit; something better than even Armani could produce, so evenly tailored it fit like a glove on the demons long, slender body. Under the jacket was a crisp white shirt, and a silvery-grey tie, with no pattern. It had an extraordinarily handsome face with black hair that was slicked back. It was its eyes that made the creature so imposing. The eyes had enlarged pupils, so enlarged that you almost could not see the eye colour. Around those extraordinary pupils was a very thin band of red. It had the poise of a dancer, the class of James Bond, the attitude of Attila the Hun, and eyes, (in the demon's words,) reminiscent of the fiery gates of Hell. It was a thing of nightmares. Hermione almost lost it.
Harry did not.
"Hello," he said coolly.
"Don't try and play your little games with me, Harry Potter," said the demon softly. Harry paled. If the demon knew his name, Harry could be sent to Hell, regardless of whether or not he was a mage.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, now feeling considerably less cocky.
"Would it be too clichéd if I asked for your soul?" The demon laughed softly. "If I prey upon your worst nightmares, what would I find, Harry Potter?"
Harry blanched more. The continual use of his name completely unnerved him.
"I could suck your soul right out of you and send it to Hell," said the demon. "I think my master would like that, quite a lot."
Master…thought Hermione. A demon that was called to serve a master was always the sixth predicent. While she knew this, she knew Harry did not. He should have read last night, she thought furiously. The information was no good to her. And all the while Harry was getting even more mesmerized by that silky, perfect voice.
"For that is your worst nightmare, is it not?" It laughed again.
"No," said Harry bravely.
"No, you are quite right, it's not," the demon smiled, it was so deliciously frigid, so horribly polite, a smile that you might expect to find at an unwanted dinner party. "But what if I sucked the soul out of your charming little amour?" He turned that frigid smile on to Hermione. "What if I made you watch every delicious torment that Hell has to offer, forced you to watch her screaming in agony, wanting to die, before I sucked out her soul. And then I let you live with the guilt that you did not save her. Hell on Earth, am I correct Harry Potter?"
"No," said Harry hoarsely. "Let her go. Please, take me, just promise to let her go."
"Master will be pleased with that bargain," said the Demon. "After all, he always keeps his promises."
"Harry, no," cried Hermione. "The world can't beat Voldemort if they lose you, you can't make that bargain, you can't."
"I can," said Harry, a steely note in his voice. "I can and I will." He threw aside his wand. "Alright," he said, "Take me. Take me to Voldemort, suck out my soul, I don't care."
"Excellent choice, Harry Potter," said the demon.
"No!" said Hermione. The demon grabbed hold of Harry, pulled him into a bruising grip. He suddenly reached straight into Harry's chest, right where his heart would be. Harry screamed. It was blood-curdling, something that Hermione never hoped to hear again. And that's when she came to her senses.
"I damn thee to the sixth predicent," she said levelly, holding out her wand. The demon laughed, soft and cruel.
"You think so?" He asked. "What could you, a mudblood witch, possibly do to me?"
Harry looked at her, and then back at the demon, who still had him in that death grip. "Famous last words," he said through gritted teeth.
"Dante," said Hermione. She felt a pulse of white-hot fire travel through her body, up her arm, and into her wand. The demon dropped Harry as if hit by lighting, and vanished eerily without a sound.
Hermione had a sudden need to sit down. She collapsed. Right next to where Harry was already on the ground. Black darkened the corners of her vision, and she shook herself, keeping the dark at bay.
"Herm," said Harry hoarsely, looking up at her from the floor. "Herm, you're a mage."
"Rubbish," said Hermione.
"You are, you couldn't have done that otherwise," persisted Harry. He grabbed her arm. Hard. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not my mum, not my dad, not your parents, not Dumbledore. Because if you-know-who finds out, you are dead. Just like my mum and dad. Dead. You can't die, Hermione."
"I won't tell," said Hermione softly. "I promise."
"I'll teach you, if you like," said Harry, "during breaks, and all. You'll get it faster than I will."
"Alright then," said Hermione. "It could be…educational…you know…" The blackness was clouding her vision again. Harry's eyes were looking foggy as well. Then they both slumped to the floor.
~**~