"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"
Chapter Three
- Demonic Intentions -

A/N: I don't own squat, save for the plot.

Rage.

Harry was very familiar with this emotion. Usually, the clamps would settle and force him to smile, nod, and accept whatever was said to him. This was different.

He didn't know what else to call them, but they reminded him of the clamps that Uncle Vernon would use to break his fingers. The garage was his most hated place in #4 Privit Drive next to the bannister. Cleaning his uncle's tools with oil was something that he had to do from the age of six. Apparently, something about having learned to cook so well was what prompted the new chore.

He never understood that reasoning. It was especially difficult to understand during the disciplinary sessions he had whenever he would 'do something' wrong. It was just as his uncle stated: Wipe the drill bits, clamps, band saw blade, and etcetera with cleaning oil until they gleamed.

Apparently they were too shiny or something, and the clamps he meticulously scoured were used on his fingers.

This reminded him of that.

Glaring at his knees while Dumbledore went on about how his life at the Dursleys was unfortunate but necessary, he felt one of the clamps in his head snap. The resulting torrent of emotion and quite well spoken English shocked both wizards, but it wasn't enough to stem the tide that was pouring out of him through the words.

His voice was free and it lit into the Headmaster with both bludgers.

It felt fantastic.

Then there was some sort of feeling deep in his chest that he couldn't recognise at first. It was almost like that time he found himself on top of the school, but it was different too. There was this pressure that was fighting back, and it was fuelling his rage – which pushed harder against the pressure – which increased in retaliation.

He was stuck in a loop of apparition and didn't have any idea what he was doing.

A presence tried to calm him even as he screamed. He felt it briefly touch something deep in his mind, and it was somewhat feminine. Then the pressure was suddenly gone.

The loudest thunderstorm he knew was the one on the night that Hagrid burst through the door on that island, and what he was hearing and feeling made that sound like a light tapping in comparison.

Roaring noise was everywhere, and he could feel it ripping through him. Every instinct was demanding he get away and the pool of power in his gut twisted, obeying the thought.

His throat was raw when he felt a different presence surround him. Was that approval he was feeling? Something in the miasma nudged him and he felt the world come into focus as his ears felt like they were exploding.

Trees. Had to be. They were green. Reminded him of those huge ones Hagrid would bring in over Christmas Hols. Pine? They weren't wand worthy, and where the devil did that thought come from?

"Hey man, you okay?" he heard slightly from his left.

Harry didn't recognise the accent, but it definitely sounded female. Blinking, he turned his head and saw a girl with motes of light both emanating from and surrounding her. There was a small thought of wrackspurts, but that was just silly.

His throat hurt, but he was supposed to respond. Right? "Yeah," he rasped, "that hurt." Gravity seemed to lose its hold on him then, and for a moment there was a fleeting thought that he just fell off his broom. It was light, heady, and seemed to grip him in feathers.

Feeling a hand on the back of his head, he opened his eyes to find that he was staring at the sun – screaming his wrath at it like it was the source of all his problems.

He didn't really know how long he was screaming, but he thought it was inordinately long to have done so without having to take a breath. That thought snapped him out of it, and he turned about to get his bearings.

"Okay, mate, what the devil have you gotten yourself into this time?" he wondered aloud. Two colours were grabbing his attention. There was the crystal blue of the sky and the yellow grit of sand everywhere.

Attempting to take a step forward, he realised there was something else – and it was in his way. Thin circles of colour surrounded him. Different hues, they seemed to form a cage of multicoloured light around him.

One of them was nearly transparent. He couldn't tell what colour it used to be, and he reached out to touch it. There was a calmness that blanketed him when the tip of his finger grazed it. It was suffocating.

No! He wanted to be angry!

Yanking his entire arm back, he stuck his finger in his mouth as if whatever that was burned him. "Wand, where's my wand?" he mumbled as he searched himself.

A scent distracted him, and he closed his eyes to get more of that intoxication into his nose. The name of it was on the tip of his tongue, but it was mixed with the smell of feminine sweat. Whatever it was, that combination smelled absolutely wonderful. "Sandalwood?" he asked himself.

While he was mulling that over, more multicoloured light caught his attention. It was coming from him this time, from different areas all over his body. It was his hands that caught his attention first. Well, every finger except both indexes and thumbs. The sight made him frown, and he looked down to see other places that were familiar. Everything that glowed was somewhere he'd been injured in the past.

The brightest that he could see was that spot on his arm where the basilisk fang had gone through. Others that he'd forgotten about were lit up as well. Awkwardly, his eyes looked up in an attempt to see if that damned scar was glowing too. He even put the palm of his right hand over it to see if there was anything. There wasn't a reflective glow, but some form of shadow instead.

That was disturbing.

After a while, the scent of his most hated tea filled his nostrils, making him think of his Aunt Marge. He couldn't hold back a sneer of disgust at that, when the light from all his previous wounds ceased. Which was fine. Now if that other smell would come back, he'd be a happy man. That stirred something that felt rather good.

A bang of noise caught him out. "What the?" Another bang and he saw that near transparent ring of whatever flicker. He saw it when it banged again, and for some reason his reflexes had him punching it. There was a pause, then it banged again. The banging was spaced apart enough that he could time it. He didn't know why, but it felt right to match the banging with his fist.

That circle shattered at the fifth bang and punch. His ears rang from the sound of it, and he shook his head over it. Then another ring banged, and a smile went over his face. Someone was helping him!

"Yeah! S'right! C'mon!" he shouted as he matched the bang with his fist. "Get me out of here!" Smirking grin on his face, he had to add, "and bring back that smell!"

Harry had no idea how much time was passing. The sun never seemed to move, which was just plain odd. The last ring shattered and he fell to his knees, completely spent. After a bit, he looked around again. "Oh, come on. Enough with this dream already! I'm out!"

Nothing happened, which made him mutter a slew of profanities. Most of those he learned from his Uncle, and he didn't care who heard it. Petunia would hit him in the back of the head with the frying pan if she was there.

Suddenly, his shoes and socks disappeared. He knew it when he felt the sand start between his toes. Jerking about, he stared at his feet as he wondered what else was going on. Then his wind breaker vanished. "What's going on?"

His trousers went next, causing him to sigh. "Someone's a pervert," he muttered.

He could smell rubbing alcohol, and he felt cool dabs go over his face. This of course made him blink in confusion and try to feel whatever it was that was going over his cheeks and nose. After that oddity, and proving his luck was truly atrocious, his tee and boxers went away.

"Who's doing that?" he shouted. Then he caught that smell again. "Oh, show your face," he nearly whined. "Are you the one I saw in the forest?" His answer came with the feeling of a warm and wet flannel going over his chest.

That went on for a while, and he realized someone or something was cleaning him. Whatever was going on, it seemed to avoid certain areas, which was fine by him. His anger from earlier seemed to bleed away with the pleasant sensations. Even the warmth going over his back and later his backside was nice.

There was a pause and he thought it was over. "Thanks," he whispered just before he felt the last place being cleaned. Eyes wide, he looked down. "Oh, that's not fair."

After a while of that, his eyes rolled back as he just let himself feel for once. "Damn, that's nice." Then he frowned when the sensations stopped. "Aww."

Whatever was going on must have heard that, because he felt a kiss in a place he never thought of before, making him jerk. Almost felt like an apology.

"Well, one thing's for sure," he mused, "this is one hell of a better dream than I'm used to." That made him chuckle a bit.

Some time later a white tee appeared over his chest. "What, just a shirt?" he half complained. He then felt something go around his pelvis, and looked down with a larger frown. "Y fronts?" Frowning, he shrugged. "Well, at least they fit better."

Instead of the rest of the clothes he was now expecting, glorious warmth surrounded something that had him bending over with his head back. "Ohhhh." Whomever was doing this had his FULL attention now.

The warm, wet, and fluttering pressure went on for a while, before suddenly stopping. "Oh, COME ON! FINISH THE BLOODY JOB!" he shouted in frustration.

He thought about doing it himself, when a shadow on the ground caught his attention. He spun into a defensive posture, to find some sort of savage standing in front of him in a half crouch? Eyeing it up and down, he could tell it was a girl but not the one he'd smelled earlier. This one was a bit too earthy, and smelled of spice of some sort.

His brow went up. "Was that you?" A shake of her head almost had him sighing in relief. She then pointed to her right with a bit of a throaty chuckle. Looking over with a flush on his face, he saw a depression in the sand with some sort of fire pit. "Isn't it already hot out for that?" he deadpanned.

A hand on his shoulder got him moving. "All right, all right," he mumbled. "Whatever."

It didn't take all that long to get there, and he turned to study the girl. "So," he drawled, "what now?" She was staring at his forehead. Petulant, he crossed his arms. "Yes, yes. I'm him, and that's the bloody scar. Mind not staring at it? It's rude."

"Bad," she said in an odd growling voice.

He simply blinked at her in confusion. "Pardon?"

She traced a lightning bold on her own forehead, and said 'bad' again. "Fix?"

His head went back with wide eyes. "Can you? No one's been able to. Bloody hell, I'd kiss you if you did."

She smirked at him and tapped her chest. "Sineya," she growled.

"Harry," he replied with a smile. His automatic hand out had her looking at it funny. "What? It's how we say hello. You take each other's hand and shake them a couple of times." She took hold of his hand and shook it. Not up and down, however, but side to side. "Well, that works too I guess."

She tapped his chest and pointed to the ground. "What, you want me to lay down?" Her grunt had him shrug. Doing as she 'asked', he found the sand to be somewhat comfortable. She then knelt and touched his chest, and he felt a full body bind go over him. 'Oh shit,' he thought to himself.

"No move," she growled, "no hurt."

'Like I can argue?' he thought.

He saw her grin, then lean over him to feel the scar with her finger. Whatever she was doing got interrupted by a rather indignant shout. "Hey! What the hell's going on?"

Another shadow went over his body, and he saw a different girl standing on the other side of him. That smell was there again, and she reminded him of that other girl with the odd accent. He tried to look, but had to contend with his peripheral vision. Harry could tell she was looking at him, but that was it.

"Back off bitch, he's mine!" he heard her shout.

'Yours?' he thought to himself. 'Was she the one doing all that before? What the bloody hell is going on?'

Sineya stood quite abruptly. If Harry didn't know any better, he thought she apperated herself into standing, she was so fast. "Mate?" he heard her growl.

"That's right. He's mine… I. Don't. Share."

'Bloody hell. Who is this? Better not be another fan girl. Too many of those. I ought to hire some bodyguards or something.'

Sineya pulled the new girl down to where they were crouching on either side. He saw her point between her eyes, then the new girl, then his own chest. "Mate?" she growled again.

"Yes, dammit!" the new girl said in a growl of her own.

Holding her hand up in what Harry thought to be a bit of an apology, Sineya then placed both hands on his chest. "Mate," she stated, then pointed at his scar. "Demon," she growled in a snarl.

New girl echoed his own thoughts precisely. "Oh, shit." She then leaned over him with a bit of a scared look on her face.

'Okay, she's definitely pretty and the source of that wonderful smell,' he realized. 'Hope she was the one doing all that before. Wouldn't mind, to be perfectly honest. Merlin, she smells good.'

Sineya introduced herself, and new girl nodded. "Faith," she said back, and Harry now had a name to go with the pretty face. "How do we get it out of him?" he heard her whisper.

Having Faith look at her again, Sineya held up a finger. For reasons unknown, her hand moved so that Harry could see it. He wasn't sure he wanted to now, to tell the truth, because he saw something that reminded him of Buckbeak's Talons growing from the end of it.

"Sineya," she growled her own name slowly out. "Slay," she looked down at him, "Demon." And with that, Sineya moved like lightning and stabbed Harry's scar with her finger.

'SWEET MERLIN!' Harry howled in his head as concentrated pain lanced through his scar.

His vision clouded with what looked like to be a room, with this Faith over him. Her eyes would've scared him if he'd noticed. As it was, he couldn't even tell there was wind whipping about. He felt his throat go raw as a screeching wail filled his ears. Honestly, in the back of his mind, it reminded him of when he stabbed the diary.

When it was over, he blinked and saw Sineya again. Faith was gone for some reason. Sineya waved her hand over him and he could move again. "What the hell?" he complained as he scrambled backwards.

Sineya stood up straight in a poise that he hadn't seen her do before. "I must apologize," she said in a completely different voice. She then shocked him as her savage nature abruptly vanished. Generic features appeared, and her skin wasn't all that dark any more. He wasn't sure if Sineya was even female at this point either. That thought was somewhat confirmed as her face became more masculine.

Holding his forehead, Harry stared at the person. "What are you? Are you a Death Eater or something?"

The now male Sineya scoffed at him. "Hardly. Have a seat, young mage."

Looking to his left, he saw two rather comfortable chairs materialize. "Nice conjuration," he commented on the plush brown leather. Climbing into it from the ground, he appreciated the rather cushy feel. "Very nice conjuration," he corrected himself. This was better than those chintz monstrosities that the faculty seemed to favour. Or was that just Dumbledore?

"I try," the person said as he sat in the other chair. "I assume you have questions."

Harry tilted his head. "What is it with cryptic and redundant questions?" he grumbled. "Are you that Sineya person?"

He shook his head. "I took her form to give Faith a bit of reference. Her watcher will get the idea from what she tells him later. To answer your first question, I am neutral. A bit younger than the multiverse, but not my much."

Harry blinked. "Right." Fidgeting a bit, he shook his head. "So, what do I call you?"

"Names were meaningless back then," he said with a shrug. "However, if you must use one, you may call me Isorropía."

Harry tilted his head the other way. "What is that, Greek?"

"Yes," he said with an approving grin. "It simply means balance."

Harry gave Isorropía a one eyed squint. "I have the feeling I'm in for a long story."

The now somewhat middle aged appearing fellow nodded. "The Powers That Be say they were the first beings to achieve sentience in the multiverse. This is only partially true. The Old Ones would say they were, but then they say the Partners were weak. Never trust just words, trust the words of those who were there. That said, I was there. The Powers and the Partners are three by three; equal, yet opposite. They were kept in check by the Primals, of which there were also three. I was one of them."

Harry was wide eyed now. "A god?"

"If you like, but not really. There's a hierarchy to everything," he explained. "With your help, I can finally be promoted, as it were."

He didn't know what to think of that. "What of the other two like you?"

"They were destroyed," Isorropía said with a sad frown. "Left was betrayed by the Partners, while Right was deemed Dark and was assassinated by the Powers."

"So, what is it you want from me?" Harry asked rather quietly.

"Patience," he lightly scolded. "In order to get to that point, I must tell you of my past. As you have guessed, I am neither male nor female. Such things weren't thought of until much later, and this isn't what I really look like either. You're not ready for that just yet.

"After my fellows were gone, the Shadow Men approached me when I made my wishes known to them," he continued. "In order to fill the gaps that my fallen siblings left, there was a need for what you would call a policeman, or Auror, that would serve to watch over the two opposing sides on Earth. Living up to their name, they took a shadow of myself, what you might call my feminine side, and fused it with a girl. Her name was Sineya, and she became the first Slayer."

"I'm not familiar with the term," Harry said with a shake of the head.

"Put simply," Isorropía explained, "the Slayer culls vampires and lesser demons who wreak havoc on the world." He paused as he saw Harry frown. "Don't misunderstand me. Not all demons are what you would consider bad or hellish. The word 'demon' has been used as a catch-all to describe any being that resides in an alternate dimension. Some are pure evil and follow the Partners or some other faction. Some are what you would consider angels that follow the Powers. Most fall somewhere in between, however."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "I'm still confused as to what you need me for."

Isorropía chuckled. "Good to see that you're finally able to ask questions. How's that feel, by the way?"

"Rather nice, to be perfectly honest," Harry said with a grin. "You're deflecting, however."

"True," Isorropía nodded. "I'll give you the bare bones, then. What I didn't know at the time, and it cost me greatly, was that the chieftain of the Shadow Men was working for the Powers."

"Knife in the back, huh?" Harry deadpanned.

Isorropía's aura became visible as his voice sounded preternaturally low and loud. "They Broke Their Pact!"

Leaning back in the chair, Harry was wide eyed and a bit fearful. "Sorry," he whispered. "What was the pact?"

"Forgive me," Isorropía apologized, sounding normal again. "Touchy subject, and it's been a while since I've spoken to anyone. The pact was part of my ascension, which the Powers didn't want. The Shadow Men were supposed to take two shadows, or aspects, from myself that would enable me to join the higher forces that run the multiverse. Instead of honouring, they took only the female aspect of myself, thus trapping me here.

"I found out later that they worked with the Partners on that. The Powers, that is. With neutrality gone, Free Will goes with it and the multiverse becomes slaves to the forces of Light and Dark."

"Honestly?" Harry interjected. "I know exactly how you feel."

"That's why I chose you," Isorropía said with a grin. "We share the basics. Helped you a bit now and then too."

"Oh?"

"Quirrel and the Dragon," he explained. "Helped you slay that poor excuse for a defence teacher, and nudged you out of the way of a direct hit from that dragon tail." He grinned. "Don't worry, the rest was all you."

"If you don't mind my asking," Harry asked quietly, "why do you need to get 'up there' or be promoted, or whatever it is?"

Isorropía nodded. "You'll note that I haven't said 'universe' but 'multiverse'. While each universe has it's own sub-dimensions, which isn't what this is about, one universe over has a witch of one of my slayers doing something monumentally stupid. So much that the balance has been thrown off centre."

"How bad?" Harry asked. "What'd she do?"

"Full resurrection of a human soul to her original body." Seeing Harry's eyes widen, he nodded. "Yes. She broke one of the fundamental laws out of love. Since it's one of my Slayers, who's counterpart died here a while back, I need to get 'up there' to help right the situation. As it stands, one of the oldest and darkest demons was set loose."

"Good lord," Harry whispered.

"Indeed. It makes your Voldemort seem like a child having teething issues in comparison. Don't worry. What I have in mind will break that prophecy of yours into tiny pieces."

"I like it already," Harry said with a grin.

Isorropía arched a brow. "You might like this as well. Faith claimed you as her mate three times."

"Is that important? I don't even know her. Like to, though."

"It is, and you will," Isorropía said, just before he leaned forward and stared deeply into Harry's eyes. A flood entered Harry's mind, causing him to gasp as he began to view the life and times of one Dorothy Faith Lehane.

He cried. Harry James Potter actually let himself cry. Not only was Faith's childhood as bad as his, hers was actually worse. While Harry had the thought that his parents couldn't have been that bad, she was being abused by hers. He wasn't able to look away either as he witnessed some things that Vernon never did.

Being called and running away. 'can't blame her. Her dad needs to die.'; meeting Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. 'Oh, Merlin. Not another Percy.'; slaying a master vampire with napalm? 'Creative and vindictive. I like it.'; vampire with a soul makes out with some hot looking bird and loses his soul; Bird … Cordy or Queenie or somesuch … nearly dies – vampire gets soul back, then flees to Los Angeles. 'ironic and quite sad, really.'; Army moves into Sunnydale – demons leave or something; Seeing himself apperate with a crash of thunder. 'Wow, I look like crap'.

He blinked and fell back in the chair. "I want to help her," he said quietly, then looked back in his eyes.

Isorropía smiled sadly with a bit of pride. "I know. Will you accept?"

Harry didn't even blink. "Yes."

"She will be free from the Powers soon. Don't hesitate, and you'll see me again."

"Yes, sir."

Grinning, Isorropía thrust his hands into Harry's chest. "Take it!"

Harry screamed.

Several Dunes Over

Faith looked around the sand. "This again?" Then she noticed Sineya and grinned. "Thanks."

"Still Mate?" Sineya asked.

Fidgeting, Faith shrugged. "Haven't asked him yet. Want to. He smells so damned good, and he sets me on fire."

"Sineya help."

She eyed her. "How?"

Standing from her crouch, Sineya put her hands on either side of Faith's head. "Must know. Know Mate. Help Mate."

Faith shuddered and gasped as her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oh gods," Faith said under her breath. The sight of Harry's childhood was a near mirror of hers. She dreaded seeing what she hoped she wouldn't. And over time, she realised that he never suffered that. At least she was able to eat, though. "Looks like he has a Big Bad after him. Oh hell no."

Shit family; horrible school; huge fucking snake; godfather; vows of friendship with some girl… 'thank God she's gay'; a huge contest he never wanted to be a part of; blood ritual and Big Bad again; 'that Toad needs to die'; No! Sirius! Shit!

"A prophecy? Well fuck. Nice one, old man. Tell him about it after his pseudo-dad bites it. Ass."

She opened her eyes to see Sineya again. "Still Mate?"

She didn't have to think about it. "Oh, hell yes."

Sineya palmed Faith's stomach. "Need."

Faith gasped as she felt something grow with power in the middle of her gut.

Faith and Harry opened their eyes and realized they were kissing each other. Faith was still on top of him, and he had a firm grip on her back and backside, keeping her there. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss and stared in each other's eyes.

"Hello, Faith," he said with a shy smile.

She grinned, loving the sound of his voice. "Hey, Harry. Welcome to the Hellmouth."