DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Seven - Gabriels Ratchets
Harry stalked silently down the middle of a darkened hall, the hood of his black cloak concealing his face. His feet were completely bare, devoid of the encumbering shoes and socks he'd been forced to wear all day. Halting before a brightly lit series of intersecting corridors, he tipped his head and inhaled softly, testing the air for anything of interest. Licking his lips when his nose failed to find anything worrisome, he arrogantly continued on, walking through the pooling torchlight without a care.
He was halfway down the next hall when the faint scrape of cloth against stone had his shoulders hunching and his hands balling into fists. Tossing a narrow eyed glance over his shoulder, he prowled onward, ignoring the sensation of being followed. Turning a sharp corner, he shot a curious look at an ancient tapestry of a unicorn and arched an eyebrow at the blood gleaming on its horn. The scuff of a boot had him stopping abruptly and whirling around, glowing emeralds scanning the shadowed nooks and crannies of the corridor.
"Be quiet, Ron." A masculine voice whispered fearfully, "he'll hear you."
"Hermione put a silencing charm on us, mate. You could scream his name and he wouldn't even hear you." A second male stated into the growing silence.
"Then why did he stop?" The first voice asked in a desperate hiss.
Harry closed his eyes and gave the lightest shake of his head; he hadn't been at the castle more then two days and he was already understanding the Slytherins hatred of the Gryffindors. He had honestly never met a more meddlesome bunch in his entire life. Dropping easily to one knee, he ran his nails lightly over the stone floor and smirked at the scraping sound that filled the hall. Wiggling his digits for a second, he looked thoughtfully at the ground before a devilish smile curved his features.
"What's he doing?" Muttered the first voice.
Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired demon lowered his right hand and began the careful process of carving several complicated runes into the pale stone. He narrowed his eyes as he worked, putting little thought into the message he was engraving in the floor. The runes he was using were demonic in nature and would be almost unreadable to anyone other than a demon. With a final drag of his thumb nail, he rose and looked down at the six swirling shapes he'd left within the gray stone. He pitied the poor fool who tried to interpret the short message, knowing that they'd end up with a nothing more than a terrible headache for their efforts.
"He's probably lost," the second voice murmured, amusement colouring the words. "Here, watch this."
Before Harry had a chance to ponder the second wizard's words, a large chunk of something slammed into the back of his head. Letting out a bark of pain, he reached up and cupped the wound. His lips twisted in an angered growl as the sweet coppery smell of blood appeared on the air currents. Whirling around, he hissed a soft threat and took five quick strides forward, swinging a clawed hand at the shifting shadows. He rumbled angrily when his nails passed through empty air.
"Ron, run!" Squealed the first wizard. The frightened words heralded the pounding of retreating feet as the pair fled the darkened corridor.
Probing unhappily at the bump on the back of his head, Harry glared after the wizards. The urge to chase after them was great, as was his desire to subsequently torture them slowly. Smiling at the thought, he turned and resumed his course.
It was dark outside the walls of the castle, the pale light cast by the moon only managing to deepen the shadows. The raven-haired demon dropped his gaze from the glowing orb to the circle on the back of his hand. He traced the darkening shape with the edge of a fingernail, mentally calculating how much time had eclipsed since his arrival. With a little less than a full month to hunt and capture his target, he was in sore need of some leads. Grumbling at the thought, he slipped down the castle stairs and further into the sprawling grounds. When he reached the edge of a dark forest, he stopped.
Drawing back the sleeve of his shirt, he ran a loving finger over the silver band wrapped round his wrist. In the moonlight, the six charms gleamed with promise. He ran his fingers over the little clasps, stilling when the tips rested above the dangling raven. With a light click, the charm fell into the palm of his hand. His thumb brushed gently over the metal, smoothing intricately engraved feathers. Raising his gaze, he searched the surrounding shrubbery for signs of treachery. When his eyes failed to find anything, he breathed in carefully, testing the night air suspiciously.
"Alright, my beauty." He finally breathed, at finding himself very much alone. Holding the silver raven between his index finger and thumb, he focused his power and brought it swirling to life. The spell he wove was a familiar one; his magic needing little guidance to complete its task. In his hand, and beneath the powerful touch of his magic, the silver raven grew. His magic faded when then the spell was done, returning to its swirling place within his aura.
In his arms, the silver raven remained still, its arched wings lifted as if in flight. Delving into his pocket, he withdrew a pair of black and red jesses and slid them around the bird's legs, weaving them through his fingers. After checking that the leather straps would hold, he raised his left hand to his mouth and sank one long fang into the fleshy part of his thumb. The light prick of pain made him wince but no other reaction was shown. He drew a deep breath as he moved his hand away from his mouth and began to smear blood on the bird's gaping beak. Closing his eyes against the bright flash he knew was coming, he tightened his grip on the jesses and waited. Seconds later an angered screech had him hurriedly opening his green orbs and smiling.
The black raven fluttered weakly upon his arm, its shadowy wings churning the cool night air. His hair fluttered in the breeze created by its struggle and he grimaced as the tip of a waving appendage caught him in the side of the face. With a final flap and an indignant squawk, the bird settled upon his arm. Tipping its head to the side, it gazed at him with one inky orb, its beak parting on a questioning croak.
"There's a good girl," Harry murmured. He ran a gentle finger over the raven's back, flattening her ruffled feathers "How's my little Jezebel been?"
Giving the black bird one last caress, he dipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small metal tube. He used his thumb to pop the lid open, glancing into the darkened interior to make sure the small slip of parchment was still there. Pushing the stopper back into place, he carefully bound the cylinder to the raven's leg.
"I shouldn't have to tell you who this is for," he stated to the dark raven, brushing her crest with one finger. Taking a deep breath, he loosened the jesses and tossed the bird lightly into the air. Immediately the raven unfolded her long wings and shot skyward, screaming shrilly as she went. Harry chuckled lightly and narrowed his eyes, watching his messenger vanish into the night. A flash of green in the distance heralded the raven's departure from the mortal plane, assuring him that his note would arrive to its intended receiver before day broke.
Lowering his gaze, he ran his fingers appreciatively over the silver band, selecting the next charm he required. The sleek hound fell into the palm of his waiting hand, its lithe body and whip like tail shimmering brightly. Smiling, he dropped to his knees and laid the small charm on the grass before him. Holding his bleeding hand above the shining metal, he slowly massaged eight drops of blood from the wound, watching as they fell atop the charm. He drew back when the last drop fell, rising and gliding away from the now glowing piece of silver. With an unearthly wail and an explosion of red light, the charm came to life.
Harry covered his eyes against the searing light and gritted his teeth at the piercing howl that cut through the night. When silence fell again, he lowered his arm and smirked. Before him, in all its glory, was a single black hound. The shape of its body was indistinct as it shifted back and forth, curling its lips and snarling angrily. Its eyes flashed a brilliant red, rivaling the colour of the finest rubies. Snapping wildly, the dog exposed yellowed fangs dripping with saliva. Growling unhappily, the animal began to pace slowly back and forth, its glowing orbs narrowed. Only for the briefest of moments could you make out the fine lines of its lean body; see the muscle and tendon that made the hound the best at what it did.
The black hound was one of Gabriels Ratchets; a demon dog of the wild hunt. Bred and trained to track down evil souls and sinners, the hound was one of the Retrievers greatest tools. No dog could track like a hell hound, and no one would dare suggest otherwise. The Ratchets ran as a pack, traveling in an ominous black cloud that screamed and bayed as it floated across the sky in pursuit of its quarry. When the silver charm was activated, one of the Ratchets was pulled from the pack and deposited before the summoning Retriever, much to that hound's displeasure.
Drawing a shallow breath, the raven-haired demon stepped forward. "Greetings, Yeth." Harry said calmly, offering the black hound a shallow but respectful bow. He addressed the hound simply by its title rather than its name. After existing for centuries, the hounds all bore similar marks and scars upon their bodies, making them almost impossible to identify by name. Nor did they wear collars or chains which bore identification, for nothing would stop a hell hound in the heat of the hunt. Thus, all hounds were commonly addressed as Yeth.
Straightening, he rolled his shoulders and tipped his chin back, glancing at the sky before turning his attention back to the waiting hound. Extending his hand slowly, he waited for the dark shadow to creep forward before expanding his aura. His magic swept over and through them, giving Yeth a tantalizing taste of demon magic and the unvoiced promise that more could be had if he captured his prey. Carefully, Harry extracted the memory of the rogue demon's aura from his mind and pushed it into the hound's head. He withdrew when Yeth threw back his head and let loose a haunting bay.
He opened his mouth to voice the command that the demon dog awaited but froze when the soft whisper of voices reached his ears. His fingers slowly curled into tight balls, his emerald orbs narrowing. Before him, the hell hound lowered its head and rumbled, the ridge of fur along its spine rising. Tipping his head to the side, Harry inhaled, and then he smiled. "Pin, Yeth." The order was nothing more then a softly exhaled breath, or a sigh of pleasure.
Appearing as eager as any well trained terrier, Yeth lifted his muzzle and sniffed loudly. Red eyes brightening noticeably, the black hound tossed back his narrow head and bayed triumphantly. Without pausing, he leapt forward, racing past Harry and into the dense underbrush of the forest. The continuous stream of barks that spilled from his jaws grew harsher as he slid into the dark forest, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost.
Smirking victoriously, Harry spun around and jogged leisurely after the hell hound. He didn't require the hound's keen nose to find the trio, however, a brush with one of the devil's dogs might do them some good. Smiling smugly, he leapt neatly over a fallen tree and halted. Opening his mouth, he turned his head in the direction Yeth had vanished and inhaled. The sweet smell of fear was ripe in his nose, making his mouth water and his pupils dilate.
A shriek of utter terror exploded from the brush that the black hound had disappeared into, the sound telling Harry that Yeth had caught his quarry. The raven-haired demon leapt into action, the cloak he wore flapping around his body as he raced toward the racket. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, the tempo of his heart increasing to a frantic drum roll. He entered a small thicket in an explosion of black and green, his movements becoming predatory at the sight of Yeth circling the base of a small tree. Sliding forward like a hunting leopard, he focused his gaze upwards, searching among the hanging leaves and drooping branches.
"Show yourself," he demanded imperiously, creeping closer to the tree. His words seemed to incite the hell hound's anger, causing him to rise up on his back legs and claw at the tree trunk eagerly, a thick froth appearing around his gaping muzzle.
It was the loud snap of a cracking tree branch that had Harry springing backwards, his cloak billowing around him like dark wings. Landing nimbly, he drew his iron sword and searched the ground for the individuals who had been spying on him. His nostrils flared with each deep breath he took, his narrowed eyes sweeping the forest floor. He watched in bemusement as a large branch crashed to the ground, its sudden appearance sending the hell hound into an angered frenzy of barking and prancing. Before the limp leaves had a chance to stop shaking from the impact, they began to tremble and quiver under a desperate hand.
It was a flailing arm that gave away the trio's position. Wriggling and shoving, the three struggled out from beneath the branch, their eyes wide and disconcerted. Pushing themselves to their feet, they clung to each other and stared at the sleek hound rumbling softly at them. Tangled in the damaged branches, a shimmering silver cloak lay forgotten.
Harry shifted, the movement alerting the three to his prescence. Shaking his head slowly, he arched a brow and shrunk the sword, placing it back on the silver band. "I should have known," he purred lazily. Heaving a mock sigh, he prowled forward, shrugging his cloak back and swinging his arms free of its length. "Perhaps now I shall get some of the answers I seek." He was stopped abruptly by the appearance of a wand, the sight of its glowing tip making him frown. Snapping his fingers, he brought the growling hell hound to his side.
"Don't come any closer," Hermione Granger ordered. The wand she held was shakily pointed at him, the tip weaving back and forth between his chest and face. Her eyes were wide in fear and focused on the seething mass of shadows resting against his heels. Reaching behind her, she wrapped her pale fingers around the redhead's wrist and tugged him forward, hissing at him to lift his wand. "You're coming with us."
"Am I?" Harry asked, mirth causing his eyes to dance. Chuckling softly, he dropped his hand to rest atop Yeth's head, curling his fingers through the hound's thick fur. Closing his eyes on a sigh, he shook his head slowly. When his eyes slid open again, he found himself staring at the tips of three wands, all of them glowing menacingly.
"Yes," the witch affirmed. She bobbed her head and elbowed Longbottom, indicating that he should lead the way back to the castle. "It's obvious you're performing some task for Voldemort."
Face twisted in a snarl of outrage, the redhead jabbed his wand at Harry's chest. "Death Eater!" His announcement was followed by a blast of blue magic, the spell hurtling toward the raven-haired demon's heart.
"No, Ron!" Hermione cried, making a wild grab for the redhead. Her wild lunge sent her stumbling forward, the toe of her boot catching beneath a hidden root and causing her to trip. Yelping in pain as she slammed into the ground, the brown-haired witch lifted fearful eyes and peered into glowing rubies.
Sidestepping the harmless charm, Harry watched with excited eyes as hell broke loose. In a matter of seconds, what had started out as a small confrontation turned into an act one would only find at a circus. The brown-haired witch screamed, the hell hound howled, the redhead paled, and the plump wizard let out a squeak of fear before passing out. Deciding to take action, the raven-haired demon leapt forward and sank his fingers into Yeth's ruff, dragging him away from the screeching witch.
"Hunt, Yeth." He snapped loudly, giving the shadowy hound a light toss in the opposite direction of the scattered trio. Without waiting to see the dog's departure, he spun around and caught Hermione by the back of her robes, hefting her to her feet and pinning her against the nearest tree. Shifting his grip to her throat, he glared into her unseeing eyes and raised his other hand to rest upon her cheek. "Now, little witch, tell me, who is Voldemort?"
Eyes widening, the witch let out a choked gasp, and then her eyes rolled back in her head and her wriggling body went limp.
A roar of anger from behind him had Harry dropping the witch and stepping to the side, barely avoiding the redhead's flying body. Closing his eyes as the wizard cracked his head against the trunk of the tree and slid to the ground in an unconscious heap, he gave an aggravated groan. He lifted a hand and rubbed the tattoo on the back of his hand as he surveyed the damage that had been done. Three unconscious mortals lay before him; one from fear, one from a lack of oxygen, and the third from stupidity. Not to mention he'd given Yeth the hunt command without assuring that he had the proper aura to track.
Lifting a hand to tug on his shaggy bangs, he considered the newest piece of the puzzle he'd been given. "Voldemort," he murmured, brow drawing down at how familiar the name sounded. Frowning, he reached down and picked up the redhead's still form, tossing the limp body over his shoulder and bending carefully down to pick up the witch. He shouldered both nuisances easily, straightening and walking to where the plump wizard lay moaning. Scooping the wizard up, he rested him on his hip, carrying him like a sack of brimstone or coal. Making sure that the pair slung across his shoulders wouldn't fall off, he headed in the direction of the shining castle.
"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort." He repeated as he glided through the shadows, straining his memory. His eyes lit suddenly and he halted. Voldemort. A nickname that was often used on one of the High Court Demons who spent a great deal of time exclaiming over his trips to the mortal plane. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he began to walk again. He worried his bottom lip as he attempted to remember if the demon in question had been in Hades throne room when he had departed.
Reaching the castle, he climbed a set of stairs and paced toward the Great Hall. He glided through the dark corridors soundlessly, an eager smile curving his lips into a somewhat devilish leer. If his prey was actually the famed Voldemort, he shouldn't have that hard of a time finding him. At home, in hell, Voldemort was prone to childish acts and flashy appearances. As far as Harry was concerned, he was bound to screw up sometime and reveal his location. And if that didn't work, Yeth would find him.
Depositing the three students in a pile in the center of the Great Hall, the raven-haired Retriever swept from the chamber. He could still get six hours of sleep if he hurried, or he could spend six hours standing over Draco's bed drooling. Shrugging his shoulders at the difficult choice, he vanished into the dungeons.
A/n: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review. Next chapter, expect the arrival of another demon.
amour de vin - Demons are spawned and they have only ever been demons. The prophesy does exist but Neville is believed to be the Boy-Who-Lived.
Lady-Frisselle - Severus and Draco will eventually figure it out, but not right away.
PleiadesWolfe - Harry has a full month, or until the tattoo on his hand becomes full. The tattoo is like an hourglass, slowly leaking the time away.
YamiGoddess - Demon Sirius shall make his entrance next chapter.
Koruyuha - Demons can be killed with Iron, or at least they can in this story. Salt can be used to bind or restrain them. With so much writing and talk about demons, you kinda have to go with what seems to work the best.
MangaCat201 - lol, assume I'm working.
PrincessEmeraude - Yep, Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived.
hieisdragoness18 - Thank you for the lovely compliment, it was much appreciated.
TorringMay - Glad you're enjoying this story. The Lions of Hogwarts will be resumed eventually, right now I'm a little bogged down with RL.