Harry thought of storming out of the bar on the exit line to end all exit lines, but he caught sight of Ophelia and Perdita on the opposite side of the room and decided he could use a little advice. As he started toward them, he noticed a strange phenomenon he hadn't seen anywhere else but in the wizarding world. Instead of having to push his way through the dense throng of people as he had when he went over to Drake, the crowd parted before him. But instead of the respect and awe he received in the wizarding world, the people here seemed intimidated, almost afraid of him.
Eh… that didn't really bother him like it once might have.
He didn't need people to like him.
But he still plastered on a friendly smile. "So, who's game for a drink?" he asked as he stopped next to Ophelia and Perdita. The two women looked at him like he had an extra head. "I know I sure could use another one."
He plopped down in his chair and gave both sisters a bright smile. Ophelia glanced at Perdita. Perdita blinked at him.
"What?" He asked.
"You didn't tell us you were also a wyvern's mate. I heard that dragons were … you know … different. Down there. So different that they hurt their lovers when they do it. But you're his mate, and you don't look like you've suffered," Perdita finally said, her voice just barely above a whisper. Harry leaned forward to hear her over the low throb of music. But both women flinched in response, causing Harry to sit back again.
What a suspicious group of people.
Harry waved down the waitress as he said, "I'm not a wyvern's mate. Not really anyway. As for the other stuff, I wouldn't know, although Drake looks pretty normal to me if brooding, sexy, arrogant guys who like to steal priceless artifacts from you in the middle of a crime scene are what you call normal." Harry then looked away from the sisters to the waitress. "Hullo. Can I have another one of those Dragon's Blood drinks? Thanks. As I was saying, Drake is having a bit of fun at my expense right now. He doesn't truly want me as a person, and I am no one's property."
The sisters watched with pursed lips as the waitress hurried back with a glass of the fiery wine. Harry savored a sip of it, rolling it around in his mouth to get the full flavor of the unique drink, wondering what spices were used and if he had the ability to recreate the drink on his own. He really enjoyed the flash fire that blasted through him with every sip.
"Are you sure?" Ophelia asked, doubt clearly evident in her eyes. "It looked to us as if Drake had given you his fire, and you withstood it. Only a mate would survive such a test."
"Well, I'll be the first person to admit that he's probably the champion kisser of all Europe, but just because we have an attraction to each other, doesn't mean I will automatically roll over, show my belly, and become his mate. Not happening. Now, what I want to know is how you can defeat a wyvern?"
Both ladies seem to freeze at this question.
"Defeat-," Ophelia squeaked.
"-a dragon?" Perdita finished.
"Drake specifically. I know how to handle a real dragon, but wyverns are new to me." Harry said blithely.
"Defeat Drake?" they said together.
Harry wondered if parroting his words was a sign of some mental deficiency.
He looked over Ophelia's shoulder and across the room, to where he could see Drake still sitting at the table Harry had left him at. The two red-haired Weasley look-alikes had rejoined him, one of them speaking avidly, his hands waving in the air as he emphasized some point. Drake was staring at Harry though, his expression unreadable, but Harry did see Drake lift his glass in a silent toast. Harry lifted his glass and then drained the entire contents in a Gryffindor-esque show of defiance.
The burn was intense, but Harry kept his smile from twitching out of sheer stubbornness. However, he would be ice cream later to ease his burnt esophagus. Drake was smiling in a knowing way that told Harry he knew exactly what it was he was doing.
Harry looked back at his tablemates. "Well, that drink has a bit of a kick to it. Little stupid of me to drink it all in one go, but I have never been accused of being intelligent. Where were we? Oh yeah, you guys were going to tell me how to best a dragon."
Perdita set her glass of white wine down. "We were? Harry…" She glanced at her sister.
Ophelia's gaze slid off Harry's face as he turned to look at her. "What Perdita is trying to say is that we don't know how to defeat a dragon or a wyvern."
"You don't? Bummer. I was hoping you'd help me. Drake has a small statue that he stole from me, and I really need to get it back. I'd be happy to pay for any help," Harry tried to tempt them with money instead of common decency. He wasn't picky.
Both women were shaking their heads before Harry could even finish speaking. "It's not that we wouldn't like to help you," Ophelia said.
"But we can't," Perdita added. "We're not strong enough to take on a dragon, especially a wyvern, doubly so since he is the green wyvern."
"We're Wiccans, Harry," Ophelia said.
Perdita nodded. "Pagan, of course. We would never condone any magic tainted by a dark power."
Harry couldn't help but wonder what kind of magic they performed since they certainly weren't witches. He also couldn't help but wonder what they would say if they knew he was a wizard, and where his magic would fall on their scale of being tainted by 'dark powers'.
"Of course," he said politely, he would just have to figure it out himself. Not all that different from normal anyway.
"People who dally with the dark powers are no better than those they use," Ophelia said somewhat righteously. Geez, Dumbledore 2.0 anyone?
Perdita nodded. "Worse, since they have a choice."
Harry was not about to get into a metaphysical discussion of the right and wrong of light versus dark magic. There were not enough hours in the night, nor did he have the patience for these two witchy wannabes. "So I take it you do know someone who is powerful enough to take Drake on?"
The sisters exchanged another glance. He could see the reluctance in their eyes.
"Please," he said, softly pleading, hoping to appeal to their softer natures. "This is very important to me. Drake seems to think this whole thing is a game, but if I don't get that statue back, I'm never going to get him to help me."
"Help you?" Ophelia asked, looking confused. "I thought you said he stole something of yours?"
Harry sighed. "If I can get my aquamanile back then I can use it to bribe Drake to tell me what he knows about the murderer of Mme. Deauxville. But unless I have something he wants, he will continue to play with me and then throw me to the wolves once he is bored. He knows more than he is telling me and I need that information to be able to clear my name."
"But you're his mate," Perdita said. "Why don't you just ask him to help you?"
Harry gave her a look that he thought she deserved for asking such a stupid question causing her to flinch. "I may not know what it means to be a wyvern's mate but I do know that the bloody bastard will not help me unless I blackmail and bribe him to do it. And since he doesn't actually want me, I need to acquire something he does want. Since the aquamanile is rightfully my responsibility anyway, I won't feel bad about stealing it back and using it to bribe Drake. The problem is, I don't know how to go about taking something away from a dragon. That's why I asked you if you know of someone who does."
Perdita pursed her lips, slipping Ophelia an unreadable look. "There is only one man powerful enough to do what you ask."
Harry raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"The Venediger," Perdita said.
Well if she thought the Venediger was strong enough to take on Drake then Harry would probably be fine. He was definitely more powerful than the creep calling himself the Venediger. The women must have taken Harry's silence as apprehension because of the looks they gave him.
"Of course, he will demand a price for his services," Perdita pointed out.
"And the payment the Venediger will ask of you isn't one of money," Ophelia said softly, her fingers worrying a napkin. "Truly, you do not want his help. His powers are …" She looked at Perdita for help.
"Dark," Perdita supplied. "Do not venture down that path, Harry. As one who has sealed a portal, you have triumphed over the dark horde. Do not now give yourself to one who will damn you."
Harry had to wonder if hearing problems were common in this 'Otherworld' because no one seemed to listen to a damn thing he said.
"You don't have to worry about me asking the Venediger for anything. I don't need him, I am more than capable of doing this without him. Thanks for all of the advice ladies. I greatly appreciate your help." Not. Harry so far was quite unimpressed actually.
"What are you going to do?" Ophelia asked as Harry gathered up his things, extracted a couple of euros from his pocket for the drinks, and stood up.
"I'm not sure yet, but I'm bound to think of something. I'm pretty good at winging it. It was lovely meeting you both."
They exchanged glances again, an action that was beginning to annoy Harry before Ophelia seemed to be nominated to speak. "You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"
"Rash? Me? Don't be silly, of course, I am going to do something rash, but that is what I am good at." Harry smiled at them, then without a single look toward the corner that Drake still dominated, headed out into the night to raise his first, and hopefully last, demon.
Harry knew if his past self could see what he was about to do that he would have laughed himself into a heart attack. But he needed to do something to get his aquamanile back, and since everyone kept telling him he was a Guardian, Harry couldn't help but be curious and try out these so-called Guardian powers.
Once Harry returned to his hotel, he placed yet another expensive international call to Draco. It was currently 11:20, which meant it was just after three in the afternoon in Seattle where Draco was currently dealing with business.
"Potter?"
"You know you could call me my first name more often Draco." Harry sighed, laying back on the lumpy hotel bed.
"You could also stop creating disasters wherever you go." Draco's sarcastic drawl did cheer Harry up some.
"Would if I could."
"The Paris Police called me earlier. Fishing for information about you. Why haven't you called Kingsley to fix this?" Draco sounded exasperated.
Harry grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and pulled it behind his head as he considered how to explain to his best Slytherin friend. He had received three messages from the British Embassy saying they needed to get in touch with him regarding his status in Paris as an undesirable, so he knew that the muggle side of things would be very displeased to have the wizards stepping in to fix Harry's mess.
"I'm not sure I have the right words to explain my reasoning in a way that won't have you calling me an idiot."
"That's because you are an idiot Harry. "
Harry chuckled. "Yet you still put up with me."
"Merlin only knows why I do. What are you calling for scarhead?"
"Well the first is to reassure you that I will be doing my best to get that aquamanile back from the dragon that stole it, and if I can't I'll pay off Damien so he can't bitch at you."
"Pfft, that is what insurance is for. I don't like the idea of you trying to tangle with wyverns."
"I think I will have to tangle with them one way or another, better I do it on my terms. Plus after Voldemort, I am not afraid of an egotistical lizard wearing a human face."
Draco made a frustrated noise that just made Harry laugh.
"What can I do to help you? Besides coming over there to hex everyone."
"No hexing anyone, I can do that well enough on my own. Although I am avoiding using my wizarding magic while I am under such close watch from the Otherworld citizens as a precaution."
"Smart, just don't let your reluctance get you killed, okay?"
"Promise. But if you could do me a favor? Could you get one of your house elves to pop by my place and grab a transcription of one of the medieval texts I read last summer for me?"
"I'm assuming you want it for more than just a spot of light reading?"
"But of course." Harry gave him instructions on where to find the transcription and then his coordinates for the house elf to find him.
"Do I want to know what you are going to do with this transcription?"
"Nope. Plausible deniability if I don't tell you what stupid things I am about to do."
"At least you recognize that your plans are stupid," Draco grumbled unhappily.
Harry spent a few more minutes reassuring Draco that he knew what he was doing and to not worry about him. He didn't want Draco calling the cavalry in when he could handle this on his own. Probably. After he hung up he collapsed back in the bed and was asleep before he could even turn off the light.
The dream started sometime around dawn. Harry thought at first he was dreaming about walking into a darkened G & T, but quickly he realized that he was back in Mme. Deauxville's apartment. A soft, silvery light shone through the open curtains doing little to pierce the darkness. The air was musty and warm; the flowers on the table he'd seen before were still scenting the room. In the center of the room, the circle of ash remained, but thankfully Mme. Deauxville's body was missing.
"What am I doing here?" He asked aloud.
A shadow separated itself from the wall and resolved itself into Drake's form. He glided toward Harry, the light casting the lines of his face into harsh relief while the rest of his body remained in shadow. "I called you here."
That made Harry pause. This didn't feel like the dreams he had once shared with Voldemort, but it did feel more lucid than his dreams usually were on their own.
"You're a dream," Harry said, semi-positive that this probably wasn't real. "You're not real."
"No? Perhaps not. Or perhaps the line that divides reality and fantasy has become blurred in your mind."
Drake stepped closer to Harry, sliding his hands up Harry's bare arms. Harry looked down at himself, surprised by the touch of Drake's hands on bare skin. Harry found himself wearing no shirt and only a pair of cream-colored satin and lace underwear that clung to his skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. "Now I know this is a dream. I don't own nor have I ever worn something like this."
Harry surrendered himself to Drake's arms with just the slightest tug on his shoulders. Drake was wearing a black silk shirt that felt like cool water beneath his hands.
"Perhaps that is part of my fantasy," Drake admitted with a roguish smile, his fingers dancing along Harry's spine, trailing fire with every touch.
Harry leaned closer to catch that elusive spicy scent that seemed to always cling to Drake's body. "Are you suggesting this is real then?"
"It's as real as you want it to be darling," Drake murmured against Harry's collarbone, his lips caressing the bare skin. If Harry thought Drake's fingers were amazing, then his lips were candidates for an Order of Merlin.
"Really?" Harry breathed, allowing his fingers to do a little exploring of their own. Drake groaned as Harry slid his hands down the silken contours of his chest. "Then maybe you'd like to talk about why you were at Mme. Deauxville's apartment?"
His chuckle was a bit rusty as if he didn't use it much. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when my freedom is at stake." Harry moved his fingers lower, over Drake's belly and then beneath the material of his shirt. "Did you have an appointment with her?"
Drake quickly discovered the sweet spot behind Harry's ear causing Harry to arch into him. His mind threatened to completely give itself over to the pleasure of Drake's mouth on his skin. "Not with her no."
It took a lot of willpower to keep his mind on the questions he wanted to have Drake answer. "Did you draw the circle?"
"Dragons can't summon demons," he whispered into Harry's neck just before he sucked Harry's earlobe into his mouth. Harry's knees buckled. Drake's arms tightened behind him, holding him up as Harry's hands began to drift lower, over the tight front of Drake's black jeans. Beneath the zipper, he could feel Drake twitch.
"Do you know who did draw it?"
Drake let out a soft groan against Harry's ear. "If you touch me there again, this dream will become more real than you can imagine."
Harry was tempted, so very tempted. But he needed answers more than he needed to play with the dragon. He moved his hands back up Drake's body, mapping the terrain around his rib cage. "The circle?"
Drake's teeth scraped gently along the curve of Harry's ear, his breath harsh and hot against his skin. "No, I do not know who drew it."
There was a slight inflection of the word know . He might know for certain, but Harry was willing to bet that he had a pretty good idea of who was responsible for the circle, possibly for the murder as well.
"Who do you-?"
Drake cut off his question by kissing him. Unlike the kiss in the bar, this time Harry knew what to expect, and he reveled in the heat Drake poured into him, allowing it to flow between them like a completed circuit. Harry melted against him, his fingers digging into Harry's behind to pull him tighter against his body. Drake was aroused, his body aggressive and hard against Harry's, his fingers everywhere in touches that became progressively more insistent. Harry tugged the tail of Drake's shirt out from the confines of his jeans and slid his hands under the shirt to feel the muscles of Drake's back.
Drake moaned into Harry's mouth, a moan that he felt all the way down to his toenails.
"You cannot touch me like that and expect me to remain in control." The warning in his voice was heated, as heated as Harry's blood, which he swore was about ready to boil as Drake's lips moved down his jaw to his neck, pressing hot kisses into his flesh. "If you do it again, I will not be responsible for what happens."
A shiver of pure desire rippled down Harry's spine as Drake bent him backward and licked down Harry's chest. Harry clutched handfuls of his hair, trying to decide what he wanted to do. Give into the desire that was roaring through him like a wildfire, or remain fully in control of the situation.
"What the hell, why not?" Harry said, his voice shaky as Drake's mouth moved in hot circles around one nipple. "I'm constantly being told I need to be more selfish. I refuse to feel guilty about being selfish for once."
Drake lifted his head, his eyes glowing green in the faint light. "I'm so glad you refuse to feel guilty. Being selfish should always be encouraged, especially when it involves me."
"Arrogant dragon. Too much talking," Harry murmured as he tugged on his hair until his mouth was where he wanted it. Harry claimed it, welcoming the flash of dragon fire that filled him when his tongue rubbed alongside Drake's. Harry's hands slid down the sleek muscles of his chest, pausing for a moment to tease two impudent nipples.
Drake's breathing went choppy as Harry slithered down his chest, kissing a path along his collarbone, then down the middle of his chest. Harry ached to touch him, kiss him, taste him, Harry's body was tight and gathered as if for a leap, but their standing position was too awkward to maintain for long.
Harry kissed his way back up to Drake's jaw, nibbling on his earlobe for a moment before growling into his ear, "In my fantasies, there's a long, wide chaise where I can comfortably explore your body. A red velvet couch. With gold tassels."
What could Harry say? He was a die-hard Gryffindor in his soul.
"Something like this?" Drake asked, sweeping Harry up into his arms and turning to the long, wide red velvet chaise bearing a number of silk pillows with gold tassels that were hidden in the shadows. He laid Harry gently on the chaise, standing over him for a moment, gazing at him with eyes that had gone a dark hungry forest green.
"Exactly like that, except you're supposed to be the one on the bottom."
Drake's hands strayed to the buckle of his belt. "Are you sure Hadrian? Once we begin, I will not be able to stop. It is the way of the dragons to possess their mates fully. You must be certain this is what you want."
Harry stretched with the sensual languidness of a well-fed cat. Even if this was somehow real and not just a fantasy in Harry's head created by the frustrated attraction he felt for Drake, he still wanted it. Harry never indulged in what he wanted. Constantly putting others' wants and needs before his and now he was being gifted something he didn't have the power to say no to. "Yes, I'm certain."
If there was a land-speed record for getting out of tight jeans, then Harry was willing to bet that Drake broke it. One moment he was standing over him, scorching Harry's body with his green-fire gaze; the next he was naked, hard and aroused, crawling up the couch to part Harry's legs. "I can smell your desire," he said in a low voice. Drake's head dipped to kiss his stomach as his hands slid up Harry's thighs, spreading them wider. "It matches my desire, my need. You are my mate, Hadrian, but I will show no mercy to you, for tonight, I will make you truly mine."
The shiver that swept over Harry had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with arousal. Drake's mouth was hot and aggressive on Harry's stomach, moving higher, the hot brand of his body singeing Harry's skin wherever they touched. Drake's tongue swept over one aching nipple, followed by the gentle sting of his teeth as he tugged on the tender flesh. Harry arched beneath him, mindless to everything but the touch of Drake's mouth and hands. Harry dug his fingers into the heavy muscles of Drake's ass, trying to pull him closer, trying to merge himself with him.
"No," Drake whispered, his mouth hovering over Harry's other nipple. Harry groaned as Drake lathed that nipple, his hands and mouth stroking and teasing him into a frenzy of need. "The first time, I must take you as a dragon's mate. After that, we can make love as humans do."
Harry rubbed himself against Drake, his legs closing around him in a desperate overwhelming wave of passion. "I don't care how we do it. I just want you inside of me Drake. Deep inside of me. Now!"
Drake rose up, moving his knees to either side of Harry's legs. Harry stared up at him, part of his mind marveling at the beautiful, masculine sight he made, the other part wondering just how Drake expected to make love with Harry's legs trapped between his. Drake snaked a hand beneath Harry, pulling his hips upward, his fingers curled around one thigh, parting his legs just enough to suddenly possess him with his mouth.
Harry was growing familiar with the heat of Drake's dragon fire flaring through him when they kissed, but the heat that roared to life from Drake wrapping his mouth around Harry's cock had him literally screaming with pleasure. He didn't even notice as Drake's fingers slid inside to begin stretching him, flames licked at Harry's sensitive skin as Drake's tongue probed, swirled, and sucked. Leaving Harry breathless and writhing in the dragon's grip. Before Harry could fo so much as catch his breath, Drake pulled two fat gold silk pillows beneath him, flipping Harry over so his belly rested on the pillows, Drake's body covered Harry completely with his hard heat.
"You are mine, Hadrian," he said just before he spread Harry's legs once more and thrust into him, his teeth biting into the flesh of Harry's shoulder at the same moment. Harry yelled at the sudden pain and pleasure filling him, he was pinned, helpless, unable to move, Drake's body heavy on Harry's as he moved within him. Long, deep strokes that seemed to touch every part of him.
The tension that had started building with their first touch wound tighter and tighter as his movements made him hit Harry's prostate with every thrust. Harry made one half-hearted attempt to move, but the resulting growl of refusal came not from Drake's throat but from deep in his chest and Harry knew that the hold Drake had on his shoulder was his way of keeping Harry submissive. Harry didn't mind, for now.
Drake seemed to sense his compliance because he became more forceful, licking his shoulder and neck, his body pumping harder and faster into Harry's, stretching him, filling him in a way no one had ever done before, drowning him in flame-licked ecstasy.
Just as Harry trembled on the edge of an orgasm that he knew would be unlike any orgasm he'd ever had before, Drake tilted him to the side so his mouth could reach Harry's collarbone as he rammed into Harry with enough force to knock the remaining pillows to the floor. Harry's body exploded in a conflagration of heat and rapture, mindless of the burning flame that seared his skin beneath Drake's mouth. His shout of triumph rang in Harry's ears as they burned bright together, for a moment seemingly made of fire rather than flesh and blood.
Harry drifted for a while after that, not quite sure that he wanted to come down from the high Drake had driven him to, but eventually Harry remembered how to breathe and his brain came back online once more. Harry opened his eyes and found he was draped across Drake, the dampness of his chest and ragged nature of his breath a testament that he had enjoyed himself as much as Harry had.
Harry pressed a kiss to the center of Drake's chest, then slid off of him, scooping up the satin underwear up off the floor that had been torn off of him somewhere along the way.
Drake's eyes opened as Harry attempted to pull on the shredded underwear.
"That was truly the best sex I have ever had," Harry said, giving up on the underwear, and leaning over to nip at Drake's bottom lip. "It goes without saying that you have fulfilled quite the wild fantasy of mine. Thank you, Drake."
A slight frown wrinkled his brow as he rose from the chaise, starkly way more masculine than Harry even in his resting state. "It will always be this way between us. You are my mate."
Harry hummed noncommittally. "I am definitely sated within an inch of my life. No wonder you dragons are immortal. If this is how sex is normally, you'd die of extreme pleasure if you weren't. As much as I'd like to stay and see what round two would be like, I do have to let my brain get some sleep. If you recall, I do have a murder to figure out. I don't suppose you'd care to offer me any advice about how to find the person responsible for drawing the circle and killing Mme. Deauxville?"
"I have answered three questions tonight, and that is all you are allowed," Drake said, tugging Harry against his body. Harry melted against him, his hands pulling Harry up against proof of his renewed vigor. The dragon fire swept through Harry, threatening to consume him until he returned it back to Drake.
Drake stepped backward away from Harry, and Harry would have followed him to claim another one of mind-searingly wonderful kisses, but Drake slid back into the shadows, the green of his eyes glittering from the blackness for a moment before it dissolved into the night. "Look to the circle Hadrian. The answer you seek is there."
Harry awoke to the echo of Drake's dark sexy voice in his head, his heart beating madly as if he had just run up five flights of stairs, the taste of Drake's burning kiss still on his lips. Harry's body was still humming in pleasure.
"It was just a dream," Harry told himself unconvincingly. " A really, really erotic dream, but still just a dream. Nothing more. Just a figment of your oversexed imagination. I need to stop reading Hermione's romance novels."
Harry flipped his pillow over to let the cool linen dampen his dream ardor.
When Harry woke two hours later, he was wearing the cream and lace underwear from his dream.
Here's a hint for anyone planning on summoning a demon: Don't stint on the required supplies. If you don't invest in quality products, you run the risk of getting one of the lesser demons. Think runts of the litter.
Being in a frugal state of mind when Harry arrived at Amelie's shop the following morning with the sheets of instructions on demon summoning that Draco's elf had dropped off, he ignored the more expensive items and settled for what he was sure would be equally viable substitutes. Harry still hadn't managed to make his way to a bank and still needed to have money on hand until then, so cheaper supplies were his solution. Potions class should have taught him better.
"Chalk, purified water, salt, ash, a compass, and a copper wax stick. Copper? Are you sure?"
Harry nodded. Harry thought those medieval guys were more than a little gold-obsessed. As long as the stick looked goldish, the demon shouldn't know Harry hadn't used actual gold.
"This ash is not dead man's ash," Amelie said, turning the label to face him.
"Yeah, I know, but ash is ash."
She pursed her lips, and her glance flickered toward the bottle of purified water. "Holy water is more beneficial, I believe."
"It's also more expensive," Harry said, double-checking his list of supplies.
She eyed Harry for a moment before moving to an antique cash register. "I hope you know what you are doing."
"You and me both," Harry said under his breath, then gave her a toothy grin when she looked at him questioningly.
Two hours later Harry chalked a circle about three feet across on the carpet in his hotel room, being careful to leave a break in the circle so it wasn't closed. He finally understood what it was Drake had been asking him when he wanted to know if the circle at Mme. Deauxville's was closed or not.
"Too bad I didn't read the instructions on how to summon a demon until now," Harry mumbled to himself as he used the salt to retrace the circle widdershins. "Maybe I could have figured out whether or not that circle had been used. Ah well. Onward and upward. Let's see…" Harry gnawed on his lower lip as he read the paper. He had Draco send him one of the books he seldom even looked at because it consisted solely of recipe-like instructions on summoning various demons, something that until now was strictly an academic and not a practical interest.
"Add a pinch of dead man's ash to a tablespoon of holy water, mix thoroughly, bake until done, frost if desired." Harry snickered to himself and then looked back at the sheet, tapping it as he read. "Trace the twelve symbols of one of the demon lords with a scribe of gold, followed by the four symbols of the demon you wish to summon using the ash of a branch that has lain across a grave. Well, I'm going with a copper wax stick and plain old ash rather than a gold scribe and dead man's ash, but I'm sure it'll be good enough. Now, who shall I try for?"
Harry flipped through the book and browsed through the listings of demon lords and the demons who made up each of their legions. There were eight demon lords, also known as the princes of Hell, each of whom had their own strengths and weaknesses. Since this was his first time summoning up a demon, he felt that is was better to go with one of the lesser lords. The one who caught his eye was called Amaymon, supposedly known for his fiery, poisonous breath.
"Sounds right up Drake's alley," Harry said, flipping through the chapter to find one of Amaymon's demons. "Hmm. 'Effrijim: one who quivers in a horrible manner.' That doesn't sound too scary. Beats the demon that is known for decaying in liquid putrefaction."
Harry drew the demon lord's symbols with the copper stick, hoping while he did so that the symbols would come out of the rug later with a little soap and water, then used the ash to draw the demon Effrijim's symbols."All right, show time," Harry said, preparing to close the circle.
According to the instructions, it was very important that the circle be closed properly, which meant blood. Harry took the pin he had found in the complimentary hotel sewing kit and pricked the end of his finger, closing the circle with a smear of blood.
The second the blood touched the carpet, the air within the circle began to shimmer. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end in response, the hum of charged power within the circle disconcerting and so different from his own wizarding powers, he came close to rubbing out the chalk lines in order to destroy whatever it was that he had started. But he thought of Drake and Inspector Proust and Draco and knew he had to finish it.
Standing before the circle, Harry used the compass to align himself so he could call up the quarters. He turned first to the east. The book said to draw a protective ward and Harry was pretty confident it did not mean a wizard magic-based ward. Harry had no idea what a non-wizarding protective ward could be, so he sketched a peace symbol in the air. Good enough, he hoped. "Guardian of the towers of the east, I summon you to guard this circle."
Turning south, Harry drew another peace symbol for that direction while speaking the appropriate words. "Guardian of the tower of the south, I summon you to guard this circle."
Harry repeated the process for the two remaining quarters, finishing with the words that would summon the demon to him. "I conjure thee, Effrijim, by the power of thy Lord Amaymon, also call the bringer of fire, creator of all things poisonous, to appear before me now without noise and terror. I summon thee, Effrijim, to answer truly all questions that I shall ask thee. I command thee, Effrijim, to my will by the virtue of my power. By my hand thy shall be bound, by my blood thy shall be bound, by my voice thy shall be bound!"
There was a blue crackle of static in the air; then a noxious thick black smoke poured out of the circle. Harry crawled toward the window, coughing and hacking, throwing the windows open wide, leaning his upper body outside to drag deep deep, gasping breaths of air into his lungs. Wisps of black smoke wafted over his head, slowly dissipating into the afternoon breeze that came up from the Seine. Harry coughed out the last of the demon smoke, then turned back to the room, waving the smoke out of his way so he could see his demon.
A black dog sat in the circle. A large hairy black dog. Bigger than even Sirius' dog form had once been. One that slobbered.
"A dog?" Harry said, plopping in a surprised heap next to the window. "I summoned up a dog?"
"I'm not just any dog," the animal snarled, its pink tongue flashing as it spoke. Harry's eyes widened as he realized that the words came from its black lips. "What, are you blind? I'm a Newfoundland! That's like royalty among dogs!"
"Uh…you're a Newfie? You're a demon who's a Newfie?" Harry asked incredulously.
The demon sniffed in an irritated manner and licked its shoulder. "We prefer the word Newfoundland, thank you."
He summoned up a polite demon Newfie? Only Harry's luck could be this bizarre. He shook his head. Something was very wrong here. "Demon, what is thy name?"
"Jim," it answered in a surly tone.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Wasn't that just fine and dandy, Harry summoned up a demon and got Jim the Newfie. "Jim? That's it, just Jim?"
"Well, the whole thing is Effrijim, but I prefer Jim. Effrijim sounds a bit girly, ya know?"
Harry nodded. What else could he do? Argue with it? It's not like Harry ever went by his full name of Hadrian.
Jim. He had a demon dog named Jim. Harry looked back at his book. Maybe he had missed a step?
"This place is pathetic," Jim said, looking around at the hotel room with a sneer on its doggy lips. "You're like, what, a pauper?"
"This is a three-star hotel, and my financial status is of no concern to you," Harry said absently, flipping through his book. It looked like he had done everything correctly, perhaps it was the shortcuts he had taken with the supplies that left him with what appeared to be the bottom of the barrel, demonically speaking. "You're sure you're a demon? You're one of the demon lord Amaymon's servants?"
Jim rolled his eyes, which looked odd on a dog. "An extremely handsome and impressive specimen of the Newfoundland breed materializes in the middle of your shoddy hotel room, and you ask if I am a demon? Oh, I can tell my time with you is going to be one long joyride."
Harry thinned his lips. "Look, I've got enough problems in my life without a crabby demon trying to lay a guilt trip on me. Just answer my questions."
The demon's face took on a martyred look. "Yes, I'm a demon."
"And you're one of Amaymon's servants?" Surprisingly, it looked away and gave an embarrassed doggy cough. "I was."
"Was? As in…was?"
"You're a regular Einstein, aren't you? Yes, was, as in Amaymon kicked me out of his legions because of an unfortunate incident when a leviathan tried to mate with him."
Harry just stared at it. Jim made an annoyed face."It was just a joke! But try telling that to one of the princes of Hell. They have absolutely no sense of humor."
"Oh, great." Harry's shoulders slumped. "You're a delinquent demon. A Hell dropout. A demon without a cause."
"No one asked you to summon me," Jim said with dignity. "I'm just out of favor for a bit. I'll be back, just as soon as Amaymon can sit down again."
Harry felt a headache throb to life as he looked at Jim. A sticky line of drool dribbled out of one side of its mouth as it looked back at him. Harry could send it back to where it came from, but to be honest, he didn't think he had the strength to see what else he would summon up. Hard as it was to believe, with Harry's luck, he could end up with something worse than Jim.
"Let's get a few things straight here, demon. My name is Harry. I'm your master. You will do my bidding without resistance, complaint, or undue shedding."
Jim scratched at its ear with its back leg. "You wouldn't happen to have a flea collar around, would you? I just know I've picked up fleas from this dive you live in."
Harry ground his teeth. "It's a nice hotel in a very expensive area of Paris, and there are no fleas. Now, my first command is for you to lead me to where Drake Vireo, the green wyvern, lives. It's somewhere in the city, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge for you."
Jim looked around the room. "I'm hungry. You got anything to eat here, or do you plan on starving me back to Abaddon?"
Harry rubbed his forehead. The headache was getting worse. "Then after you find where Drake lives, you can help me acquire an object of mine that he has."
Jim stood up and shook itself. Long strands of slobber went flying everywhere. "Hoo, I feel like my back teeth are floating. Shake your stumps, I need to go out."
"After you have served me, I will return… you what?" Harry stared at it. Weren't demons supposed to follow orders rather than give them?
It walked over to the door and looked pointedly over its shoulder at Harry. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Fires of Abaddon, the sorts of Guardians they produce these days, its a disgrace to the memory of the old times. When I think of the sort of quality Guardians who used to summon me up … Walkies! I need to go walkies! Comprendez ?"
If there was one word that Harry never expected to hear a demon utter, walkies probably would be at the top of that list. "Wait a minute, wait a bloody minute, this does not make sense! Walkies? You're a demon who says walkies? No demon says walkies; that's undemon-like! And how come you know who Einstein is?" Harry knew most pureblood wizards didn't even know who Einstein was.
The dog had a jaded look on its face. "Just how many demons have you met?"
"Well…" Harry refused to admit that he had been a demon virgin before it had been summoned. "That's neither here nor there. Why don't you sound like a proper demon? Why don't you talk like something from one of those medieval texts? You've got to be, what, five hundred years old? A thousand?"
"Closer to three thousand, although I don't think I look a day over two."
"Three thousand years? You're three thousand years old?" Harry was slightly amazed, but he would never admit it to the mutt.
"All quality demons are that age or older," Jim said smugly. "And just because I've seen a couple of millennia doesn't mean I don't keep up with the times. There's not a lot to do in Abaddon once you get past the 'doing your demon lord master's bidding' business. We go for long stretches of time with nothing to do but torment the lesser demons, and even that pales after a few centuries. That changed once you mortals came up with TV. Brilliant idea, that."
Harry stared at the dog, his mind having a hard time wrapping itself around the fact the demon kept better track of the muggle world than wizards did and it didn't even spend most of its time on Earth. "You watch TV? In Hell? Television?"
He couldn't believe it was possible, but the demon looked offended by the note of disbelief in his voice. "What, you think that just because we're demons, we don't like to stay current with world events? You think we don't like to be entertained? We're demons, not Nazis !"
Harry sat in the middle of the room slightly stunned and trying to absorb the fact he had summoned up a TV-watching demon while it wandered into the bathroom. The crash of a large ceramic object hitting the floor brought Harry out of his daze.
"Well, that experiment was a failure," Jim said, emerging from the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to one of its back paws. "You'll want to get the maid in before you go in there. Had a little trouble with my aim. There's more where that came from too, so unless you want to explain to the hotel about le lac du peepee , I'd suggest you take me out and let me do this doggy-style."
Harry's mind still reeling, he got to his feet.
"Whoa, would you look at my package!" Jim stopped next to the door, doubled over as it looked at its groin. "I'm a demon studmuffin! The babes are gonna love me, oh yes they are! After you take me for walkies, I want some food. Raw meat sounds good. This is France, right? You think I can get some horsemeat? Used to love the stuff. Come on, come on. I don't have all day! Chop, chop!"
Harry opened the door and let the demon out, wondering as he followed after it why his life was like this and what he had done to deserve this.