Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. The others are mine. Resemblance of any character to an actual person is completely accidental. Please don't sue *shows pockets* look no money.
They left at first light, when the first rays of sunlight gently lit up the sky, turning it into a palette of crimson and gold intermingled with tones of rich blue.
A carriage was ordered as Potter was underage and could not Apparate. Magicked to carry its passengers to their desired locations; it could travel over sea and any terrain. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagoll saw them to the entrance of Hogwarts, where the carriage was already waiting. The goodbyes were brief and almost curt.
And then they were off.
Harry sat on the seat nearest to the window and started reading aloud. He caught Dearbháil giving him a sharp glance and was very surprised when she left him alone, slumping back into her seat tiredly.
This only served to increase his doubts on her ability.
Dearbháil was drained – emotionally, anyway. Her talk with Dumbledore did not allay her fears, rather it worsened it. She dared not even risk a light probe into the boy's mind, for there were no shields here in this carriage, no wards; a psychic backlash from probing was highly possible and both of them would not be protected. She was startled when the boy ignored her presence and started reading out loud.
Then she realised the material he was reading out loud was drabble: pure and simple.
Something was wrong here, she knew at once. This picture did not fit properly; there was something here that did not fit the pretty puzzle Dumbledore had drawn out for her. So, considering all her options carefully, she chose the most efficient and effective one.
She went to sleep.
After all, she could not probe Potter. She would be better conserving her energy; common sense told her that her life was soon going to enter a state often christened as permanent hell.
~*~
The journey took a week, helped along with the good weather. Food was provided magically, appearing for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Conversation was minimal since Harry was exerting all his will to control those inner demons, which had doubled in intensity and Dearbháil, sensing his reluctance, did not make further attempts to engage him.
Harry was starting to be really frightened now; his grip on sanity was loosening despite all his attempts to cling on to reality. Depression was just around the corner, in the same corridor where mood swings and withdrawal lurked. His nerve was fraying and he felt like a time bomb, slowly ticking off.
It was just a matter of time.
Correction.
It was just a matter of hours.
~*~
As they neared their destination, Dearbháil was curious as to what form her lands would take. Magically charmed to take the most appropriate form that would allow the guest to be comfortable, this transformation never ceased to amuse her. When she was alone, it reverted back to its true form, a beautiful chateau that sprawled amid vivid greenery and shimmering lakes.
Frankly, the result amazed her. She was expecting something grander perhaps, from Potter. Instead, before her very eyes, was a homely, if small cottage with the distinctive English air about it. Trees lined the meandering gravelled pathway, a small pond on the far side of the building, mini hanging gardens on the front porch. It was breathtakingly simple and yet unique in its own beauty.
She sneaked a glance at the boy. His eyes were tired and there was a strained look on his face. He seemed unaware of his surroundings, his entire attention focused on his fingers on his lap, which were currently dancing together in graceful, intricate and utterly random movements.
Horribly uneasy, she cleared her throat and spoke, " Potter, we have arrived."
Potter was startled out of his reverie and blinked furiously. He peered outside the carriage, before slumping back onto his seat, eyes glazed over.
Dearbháil was very tempted to hit him, just to shake him out of his dream world. It nearly broke her heart to see this boy wizarding hero come to this state – a mere marionette whose strings seemed to be cut.
Nearly.
" Potter, out of the carriage now." She injected some harshness into her voice, trying to gauge the extent of his apathy.
No reaction.
Feeling a sudden surge of urgency, Dearbháil repeated herself with more emphasis and was rewarded with the unlocking of the carriage doors and the subsequent trudging to the house. She pulled out her ward and sent the carriage away before turning her attentions to more important matters.
~*~
A voice.
Nonono…Go away! Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate here?
"Harry, come with me."
Where? Leave me alone! HelpmeleavemealoneIdon'twanttobelikethis
"Harry, shhh…sit down."
IamlosingcontrolHelpmehelpmehelpmepleasehelp
" Relax Harry, I've activated the necessary protections. Loosen your shields."
Can'tcan'tdon'twanttoamlosingCONTROL"Harry, Harry! Loosen your shields, boy, damn it! Otherwise, I'll have to force my way through!"
Nonononono! JustleavemealonenonononeedhelpshitlosingCONTROLHe felt his mind slowly shifting away.
He felt himself becoming that other observer.
He felt his control slip.
He felt another sharp probe from Dearbháil.
Then, he felt nothing as the explosion of emotions rocked and pounded through his mind.
~*~
Dearbháil had to drag the boy to her workroom, and force him to sit down. His eyes were vaguely glazed and had a feverish tinge to it. She felt his forehead.
His temperature was normal.
She had to start the examination fast.
She did a cursory check on the protective shields around the room. They were perfectly sound; a faint shimmer in the air. She knelt down in front of the seated boy, bringing her to his height.
Dearbháil did a light probe and waited for any adverse reaction or any reaction from that matter.
There was none.
A sense of premonition tingled down her spine. Something was dead wrong with the boy. Everyone reacted to metal probes – their shields either went up or down, either tightened or relaxed. His did neither.
She knew what she had to do and didn't like it at all. A mutual probe (in which the person being probed, willing lowered his shields would have been safer as the person probing would in turn have no need to lower his shields, thereby eliminating the factor of mental vulnerability) was entirely out of the question. Harry had not responded at all to her coaxes, it seemed as if he had completely lost all conscious thought.
She would have to force her way through his natural mental shields. This meant that she would be totally vulnerable to any harm directed at her when she made first contact with his mind, as her shields would have to be lowered to compensate for his.
She took a moment to recollect herself and sent a mental call to Dumbledore, several countries away and prayed that he would apparate here as soon as possible.
At least someone would know that something was not right if anything happened to her and the boy.
She had to do the examination now. The boy looked as if he was going to break at any moment. It was too coincidental that his condition worsened the moment they arrived. Steeling her nerves, Dearbháil lowered her shields cautiously. Then she started on removing his, layer by layer.
When she peeled off the last layer, she hesitated for a split second before plunging into his mind.
~*~
First Contact scalded…that was all she was aware of…mental torches, smog and the smell of burning sulphur surrounded her, gathered around her, trying to trap her in his head. She murmured a dispelling charm, which quickly scattered the remaining defences in his mind.
Then the source of Potter's troubles made itself known to her.
She screamed and tried to flinch away as a barrage of emotions battered on her mental projection. Torrents of grief, pain and guilt, coupled with disjointed images of bloody deaths overwhelmed her immediately.
This was nothing like she had seen. Dumbledore had underestimated the extent of the boy's troubles. This could not just be the result of one boy's grief over another…this was that and more…
An old woman stabbed by a punk for no other reason but that she was at the wrong place, at the wrong time…
A child backed to a wall by a man twice her size before being violently raped, then strangled to death…
And finally, Cedric's death…in which the images had mutated and shades were circling him, shrilling for his death, not Cedric's…
Stop! Stop! She cried, waving helplessly at the images, trying to make them disappear. Why do you make yourselves apparent to him?
The swirling images paused in mid-action. Then, as one, they burst into flames. The flames coalesced together, taking a vaguely humanoid form. She trembled again as a fresh wave of intense emotions washed over her and felt a sharp stirring of massive power.
Demon!
We have need of him. He is to be Our Avatar. Tom Riddle is trying his hand against the powers of Hell, and we have chosen Potter to face him.
Why are you causing him grief? She felt faint puzzlement from the demon.
He is fighting us, trying to push us away. We are fighting back, if we are repelled, the Dark One will not be happy. We would prefer to have him whole and willing, but a mere shell will do for our purposes.
He does not understand…a dawning realisation struck her. He will not leave you be because you have not explained your presence to him. He does not accept things easily.
He must accept.
Let me speak to him. Let me shield him from you. Let me tell him what you wish him to do. He will hear no words from you. He does not understand the tongue of Demons.
She felt the demon pausing in a moment's thought. Seconds passed, seemingly like hours. She felt a sinking feeling in her gut: you did not talk to demons unprotected, their magical signatures were so strong that an extended period of exposure to them would slowly siphon of yours.
Nor was it advisable to bargain with them.
Very well. Since you believe that you will succeed where we have failed. But we will eat your heart if you do not.
She almost laughed at the typicality of that statement. Almost. It was practically the most common threat demons made. What do you wish for him to know?
It was not meant for your ears, Sirab. She shivered at the implications of that address. But We suppose you would need some details while explaining to the boy. The form leaned forward and placed an icy finger on her temple. Here.
She arched under its touch and curled into a foetal position, as the flow of knowledge was too fast for her to absorb without any strain. Things clicked together to fast for her to consciously understand; her mind working in an overdrive but her ability to think was muddled under the sudden influx of uncontrolled information. At last, information slowed to a trickle, and finally to a stop.
The demon forced her to stand, and she stood up, swaying dizzily.
Fulfil your end of the deal, Sirab.
Huh?
She heard the demon mutter under its breath.
The shields, you stupid creature.
Huh? What? Oh…
Reining in the last remaining strands of her power and with the demon's help, she created a mental shield that would filter out some amount of the demon's presence from Potter's mind. Then, building on the previous shield, she added another that would cement the filtering and a third that would act as an anchoring base for the two. They were flimsy ones: not her best work by far, but right now, she didn't give a damn about it. She felt the demon release its hold on her and fade into the recesses of Potter's mind, gathering its strength until the shields were taken off.
Something told her that she should have tried to banish that demon, and not merely just shield Potter. But right now, she really, really didn't give a damn.
Dearbháil retreated from Potter's mind, feeling all the shields go back up layer by layer. Then, she sank back into her physical body and slumped down.
Her last conscious thought was that demons were definitely not her forte.
Author's notes: Well, comments or criticism anyone? Confused? Please review and I'll try my best to answer. The demon addressing
Dearbháil as 'sihab' will be explained later. Much thanks to everyone who reviewed earlier. *distributes chocolates and hugs* And for fears that Dearbháil might end up as a Mary-Sue, *grins* I'll try very hard not to let her.