"Was frightening the students really necessary?" asked Minerva exasperatedly.
"They're going to face a lot scarier things in the real world than me, Minnie. I ought to prepare them for that," John pointed out, taking a sip of his pint. Minerva rolled her eyes, partly at John's insistence at using the informal nickname but more so at his dangerous antics during the class demonstration.
"I always knew you that had a flair for amateur dramatics, but that was ridiculous," she chastised.
John shrugged, "It got their attention, didn't it? And yours..."
"I was more than willing to listen to a verbal explanation yesterday!" she argued. "That demonstration wasn't necessary. You just wanted to show off."
"Alright, I admit I enjoyed showing off a bit. But the kids are more likely to listen to me now," he argued. "And if I hadn't scared you out of one of your nine lives, you wouldn't have agreed to come out to the pub with me, would you?"
They had moved their discussion from the classroom to The Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade. Minerva had suggested it because it guaranteed them privacy to talk, but really she was in dire need of a strong drink to calm her nerves. She took a large gulp of her Gillywater cocktail and immediately felt some of the tension leave her body. She hadn't known what else she had expected from John's first foray into teaching. He was a talented menace, charming and dangerous. His teaching style reflected that perfectly.
"While your teaching methods are...unorthodox, I must admit that the students seemed to respond well to it," she admitted grudgingly.
"That's as close to a compliment as I'll ever get from you, and I'll gladly take it," he smirked.
"I take that enlisting Potter, Black and Snape was no coincidence, either?" she asked.
"Maybe..." he replied with a mischievous grin. "After watching them fight earlier this morning, I knew they wouldn't hold back if I asked them to dual. And I suppose I see a lot of myself in them - James is a cocky little blighter, isn't he?"
"Quite," Minerva confirmed with a fond smile. "He's too clever for his own good sometimes, but he's a good student when he chooses to apply himself. You seem to have taken a real shine to Severus."
"Yeah, he reminds me a lot of myself, actually," he noted thoughtfully. "Another Northern lad, like me. Was it a Yorkshire accent I picked up?"
"I believe so," Minerva nodded.
"He's a bit rough around the edges, but he's got raw talent there. He just needs to hone his skills," said John taking another sip of his pint. "He seems quite an enthusiastic learner."
"Perhaps a little too enthusiastic when it comes to the Dark Arts," she muttered darkly.
"Hmm, maybe we have a little too much in common, then," John relented.
"And on that subject, are you finally going to tell me what that demonstration was all about?" she asked pointedly. "I take that the reason you've come back to Hogwarts is that you hope to find a particular book on Occultism."
"Correct," he confirmed. He took a protracted drink from his pint before speaking again. He looked uncomfortable at the prospect at being open and honest with Minerva, but he had promised to tell her what the hell was going on. He carefully placed the empty pint glass on the wooden table, avoiding her gaze.
"Did I ever tell you about the moment I realised I was a wizard?" asked John quietly. Minerva blinked. This wasn't where she had expected the story to begin. Shaking her head, he gave her a wry smile, "When I was five, a boy came up to me and offered me my first cigarette. Only I knew he wasn't a boy; he wasn't even human. He was something else."
"A demon," Minerva ventured. John nodded.
"I could see through his glamour. I didn't know what or who he was at the time, but I knew that he wasn't from Liverpool, that's for sure. Of course, the other kids couldn't see what I could - they thought I was taking the piss - got a doin' for it, as well, for telling fibs."
"When you crossed paths with this demon, what did it do?" she asked, unable to hide the note of worry in her voice. John shrugged.
"I took the ciggie, smoked it and I never looked back," he said breezily. "I imagine it amused him to no end to think he had sown the seeds of corruption in an innocent child. Well, up until he realised I'd nicked the entire packet off of him."
Minerva snorted and suppressed a smirk. Evidently even as a bairn, John was a troublemaker, but this came as no real surprise.
"I knew I was different, even then," he continued. "I could see things that the other kids couldn't. I was able to make strange things happen when I was upset or angry. It was as frightening as it was exciting. You already know I grew up in a Muggle town - in the working class suburbs, no less - I didn't know about magic, didn't grow up with it like a lot of the other kids at Hogwarts did, and Dumbledore didn't come speak to me and my dad 'til I was eleven. I had a long time to try and figure out things on my own. That's when I started learning about the Occult."
John pulled out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Minerva out of habit, but she declined. He lit up his cigarette and took a long draw before continuing, "I learned all sorts of neat tricks growing up - summoning and healing charms, astral projection...protection spells came in handy when my dad decided to take one of his tempers out on me and my sister."
"Oh, John..."
"Ah, don't worry about it, love," he said reassuringly. "The bastard's been dead for years now. You know, one of the first acts of magic I ever learned was to hide all of my childhood innocence and vulnerability - I literally removed all of my weaknesses and put them in a wooden box, carved with sigils that I had learned in books, and I buried it."
"Why would you do something like that?" she asked, her voice straining. She understood perfectly well why he had done it, but the mere thought that John as a small child felt compelled to do something like that broke her heart. John shrugged.
"I did it to protect myself," he explained. He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world to do. "It was for the best, it made my home life a lot easier to cope with. If I hadn't found Occultism at such a young age, I wouldn't have made it this far. It's a fascinating branch of magic - you can create talismans that protect you and the ones you love or harm your enemies. You can summon, trap and entrance dark creatures, and make them do your bidding. Create portals to travel great distances, even into other dimensions. You can remove your weaknesses to make yourself stronger - you could remove your soul if you really wanted to - the possibilities are only limited to one's imagination."
Minerva shivered involuntarily. The thought of removing one's soul was repugnant, "Who would want to do any of those things?"
"Death Eaters, for one," he replied. "Anyway, I digress...of course, I was over the moon when I got my letter to Hogwarts - it was my ticket out of that hellhole and to a new life. I came here and I read every book available to me, learned every spell and potion that I could. I wanted to know everything. Still, the Occult remained a primary interest of mine - it was my roots to magic. I was forever sneaking books out of the Restricted Section to learn new spells and incantations, but I didn't learn these things because I wanted to apply them in any meaningful way, I just wanted to be better than everyone else. I wanted to be more powerful than anyone else, and I was cocky enough to actually believe that I actually was."
John looked thoroughly miserable now. Minerva gently rested her hand on John's arm, "What happened, John?"
"Newcastle happened," he replied cryptically, still avoiding her gaze. "When I felt like Hogwarts had taught me everything it could, I left and set out on my own. I thought I had mastered everything there was to know about the Occult, learned everything that would ever be of use to me - I was so wrong.
"My friends and I were gigging in the North East of England-"
"Mucous Membrane?" she interjected John gave her a weak smile and nodded.
"We were supposed to do a gig in some dump called The Casanova Club, but when we arrived, everyone in the club was dead."
"Dead?" Minerva choked.
"Murdered," John confirmed. "Everyone was dead except for a little girl, Astra. The club was owned by her dad, Alex - he was the one who had booked us to play that evening. We asked Astra what the hell happened, and she told us that her bastard father been abusing her - his own daughter, for fuck sake - and pimping her out other perverts at the club. Well, turns out little Astra was like us, a young witch not yet in control of her powers of any kind of clue of what she was or how powerful. So desperate to escape her situation, she accidentally summoned a demon to protect her. A great white dog..."
"That monstrosity you summoned into the classroom?" asked Minerva, aghast.
"The very same," he confirmed with a curt nod. "Without meaning to, she had summoned the beast and it had killed everyone in the club - no less than they deserved, in my opinion - but she had no clue as to how to send the bloody thing back. I couldn't leave a demon dog on the loose, so I stepped in to help."
John stubbed his cigarette out and immediately lit another one. He was quite fidgety as he spoke and Minerva wondered if smoking merely gave him something to do with his hands.
"I had everything set up correctly," he said firmly. "The Talisman, the incantations, payment in blood...everything was done perfectly. Except..." John pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and was silent for a few moments, trying to compose himself. "I summoned the same demon that had taken an interest in me all those years ago, I thought it'd be amusing to trap him and have him do my bidding. I called him forth to kill the demon that Astra had invoked, and he did, he tore the damned thing to pieces. But I failed to name and bind him properly. I called forth Sagatana, but that wasn't his true name, thus the invocation lacked the weight of magical imperative. A simple, terrible mistake on my part. One which cost that little girl her soul: the demon took Astra to hell with him as payment for killing the other beast."
Minerva quickly withdrew her hand from John's arm and covered her mouth, sure that she was going to be sick. All the colour had drained from John's face. He roughly wiped the sweat from his brow and finally met Minerva's gaze. His expression was stricken with shame and fear.
"I pleaded with the demon to take me instead, I was the one who had summoned him," he said, almost pleadingly. "But he refused. I tried to bring her back, but..."
John burst into fits of tears, drawing curious looks from patrons at the bar. Minerva watched him cry freely now, stunned at his shocking confession. John had been right - Minerva was better off not knowing the truth. It was too terrible to hear, too sickening to bear.
"Does Dumbledore know all of this?" she asked hoarsely. John gave a weak nod. A wave of anger coursed through her again. Of course Dumbledore knew, he knew everything that happened at Hogwarts. "Knowing this, why would he ever agree to let you anywhere near the school?"
John roughly wipes the tears from his eyes, "Because despite everything, I'm good at what I do. Dumbledore needed someone to fill the position, the students need to learn, and I need access to the library for rare books that might help fix everything. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"How in Godric's name is this fixable?" she asked angrily. "Trying to fix a problem is what got you into this situation in the first place!"
"I need to try!" he shouted. "For the last two years, that's all I've done. If I need to commit every day for the rest of my life to setting this right, then I will. I need to fix this."
"You stupid, selfish, arrogant child," she hissed.
"I know, I know..." he groaned, covering his face in hands again. Minerva glared at John.
"So this book that you're looking for, you're hoping that it will...what? Help you rescue this child?" she asked, her voice brittle.
"Yes," he nodded, his hands still covering his face, too ashamed to meet her gaze. "I've searched everywhere I can think of for a spell or incantation, anything to bring her back. The books in the Hogwarts library is my last hope."
Minerva slumped back in her chair, feeling winded. John had always a penchant for trouble, but this was far beyond anything she thought he was capable of.
"So, this is why you drink so much?" she sneered. "Because you feel guilty for what you've done?" John nodded. "Good," she spat. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Your arrogance damned that little girl to Hell for no other reason than because you wanted to show off. A misdeed as great as this one...I fear it's not just her soul you should be worried about, John."
John shrunk into his seat, looking small, weak - probably a lot like the little boy from Liverpool who'd put his fears in a box and buried them into the ground. Despite her anger and disgust, she felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He was so young and talented, foolish and woefully misguided. He had only meant to help, and he had damned himself along with this child in the process. Minerva sighed. She suddenly felt very old and tired.
"The demon that took the child - do you know his true name?" she asked.
"Nergal," he said the word with sheer venom. "Not that knowing his name makes much of a difference now, the bastard's already dead - that's a story for another time - so I can't summon him and bargain for Astra's release. To be honest, I don't think he would have ever agreed to let her go, nothing was of greater value to him than tormenting me and Astra."
"So she remains trapped in Hell?" she asked mournfully. "Lost?"
"Not if I can help it," he said determinedly.
"So what is your intention if you can no longer summon Nergal to release her?"
"Enlist the help of another demon," he said. "I know it's not ideal, but my options are pretty limited."
Minerva hesitated a moment before saying, "The collection of books in the school library is quite extensive, it would easily take you a couple of years to search through all of them on your own." John peered at her through his fingertips at her, his expression guarded but curious. Minerva continued, "Two pairs of eyes are more efficient than one; I can help you scour the library if you like."
"You'd do that?" he asked, surprised. Minerva frowned.
"Of course I will," she replied, although her tone was gentler than the expression she gave him. "We are colleagues. More importantly, the salvation of a child's soul is at stake, therefore I will assist you in any way I can. And presumably, the sooner you find what you're looking for, the sooner you'll leave the school, yes?"
The tension in John's shoulders eased a little and he nodded, "That's right."
"And spending time in each other's company will make it that much easier to keep an eye on you," she pointed out.
"Very true."
"Then it is a mutually beneficial arrangement," she reasoned. "Do you accept my offer of help?"
John looked contemplative for a few moments before he nodded in agreement, "Yes, I accept your offer."
"Good. Well, as the old saying goes, there's nothing like the present. We may as well head to the library now - unless you're too inebriated?" she asked, arching a thin eyebrow at him. John shook his head vigorously.
"No, now is fine," he assured her, his eyes still wide with surprise.
"Good," she downed the last of her drink and slammed the glass hard on the table before rising to her feet. Without another word she turned on her heel and strode towards the pub exit. John quickly scrambled to his feet and hurried after her. He touched her elbow and she paused.
"Thank you, Professor. For your help," he said quietly. "I really do appreciate it."
She cleared her throat and replied briskly, "You're very welcome, John. Just promise me that you'll try and behave yourself while you're here."
"I will," he promised. He even sounded sincere. Minerva sighed and shook her head, wondering how long his streak of good behaviour would last.