Chapter Text
”Hello Harry, have you missed me?”
The voice was one that should belong to his past, and a voice Harry had hoped he would never hear again. It was the voice of his past mistakes coming back to haunt him, of the worst mistake of his life. An innocent one, surely, but sometimes those are the worst kind.
It had been when Harry was eleven and just after he had met Hagrid. Kind, gentle but impressive-in-size Hagrid. He had stormed into the house, knocking Harry's uncle aside when he tried to stop him. He had been mad then, angry when the Dursley's called him a freak and told him that they aimed to beat all of the freakishness out of Harry. That boy was most certainly not going away to join some obscene cult, Petunia had lost her sister to it and she was not going to lose her nephew as well. Those were actually some sensible statements, Harry figured later on. Except for the part of beating him. Even though his relatives had lied to him all of his life up to that point; said that his parents had been killed in a car-crash and that they had been nasty communists, as well as beating him, in their own way they had been trying to save him from being dragged into that world. He still wasn't quite sure why they tried to rescue him while clearly hating him so much, but that was just the way it goes.
Either way, that day Harry had gone with Hagrid, as the man had mumbled some sort of strange spell that hit Dudley, making him grow a grotesque pig's nose and turned his hands into hooves. In the resulting chaos over this, Hagrid had grabbed Harry's hand and fled. He had been a bit scared that first day, scared of the large man who did such a strange and horrible yet, a small part of his mind whispered, wonderful thing to his cousin. So he had gone without objection and ended up having one of the greatest days of his life. Even with all that followed, Harry couldn't regret that particular day.
Hagrid brought him along on his motorcycle, let Harry sit in the small passenger wagon and the speed as they took of was the greatest thrill he had ever felt. He loved the way the wind rushed through his hair, making his eyes water and how they just left everything behind. And after that they had gone to eat at what looked like a gloomy pub. It laid in a pretty nice part of London, but the exterior was worn down by the years and was dirty, the windows grimed shut. Beggars sat beside the doorstep and their rank smell and dead eyes scared Harry like nothing else. But in they went and, well, the inside was a bit better. Still worn out and filled with some suspicious looking fellows, it was at least properly cleaned and at that time of the day smelled like the very savoury stew Harry was later treated to. They sat in the back of the pub where no one really bothered them, even if the sight of such a young boy in there might have raised an eyebrow or two.
A nervous looking man even approached them, eyes flickering between Harry and Hagrid as he spoke to the latter. ”Is that their son? Is it truly?!”
Hagrid broke out into a bright smile and grinned for minutes after, unable to stop. He stuck out like a sore thumb in that place. Harry had the feeling that this wasn't really a place where people came to be happy.
”Yeh, it es. Dumbledore askid me to go check up on 'im.”
The eyes that had flickered to Harry stopped there for a second.
”So I see... great news, of course. C-certainly the kind of ch-character we'd need.”
Then they moved on and the man did as well. He had made Harry feel unsettled, but that feeling quickly dispersed as they got their food and Hagrid got talking. He didn't actually tell Harry much about the society his parents had belonged to, but he did tell Harry about his parents.
”Yeh know, 'arry, I knew your parents. Before their tragic death. Great people, Lily and James were, the best.”
”What did they do?” Harry stared at him with wide eyes, having never heard of them spoken of with anything but disdain before.
“They, as ah am, were part of a war. Nah,” he stopped Harry before any question could even pop out, “not one of 'em you can see on the telly, nothin' like that. It es taking place all over England, all over the world even, but that's a bit too big of a playin' field, ya know? So yer parents were great, they worked as a team and could bring even the baddest demon down. Nothin' could stop them... “
Demons. The word echoed in Harry's head, strange and almost meaningless. The Dursleys had been careful not to let him get exposed to “any of that nonsense” and thus he had only had small glimpses of it. People screaming the word on TV, as he stayed up and tried to listen in from his cupboard. They'd sounded afraid. A neighbour talking about a stray cat, calling it a “proper demon, killing of all the birds in her yard and digging up her garden”. What little Harry knew of them, it was that they were bad. And his parents had fought them, which meant that they had to be great people indeed. In an instant adoration Harry wanted to be a part of the society and do what they had done.
“I want to help!” Harry exclaimed, startling the other man. He looked down on him with wide eyes, and then a hesitant smile reached his lips.
“Ah'd think so, yah. But we'll wait a little, jest couple o' years. An' I'll talk ta Dumbledore for yah, see what he says. He's a great man, Dumbledore, so he'll know when it'd be a good time ta bring you in.”
Harry wasn't happy with this, he was already eleven and old enough to cook and clean and manage himself. He was definitively ready to help them, in whatever ways he could. Squaring his shoulders he prepared himself to look Hagrid straight in the eye and say that it just wouldn't do. But there was a certain sadness in the man's eyes as he met them, and Harry found himself unable to say it. Instead he asked about his parents.
Hagrid smiled as he talked about them, happy in a way he hadn't been before. Said that they were the best couple there could ever be, that two people had never loved each other as much as they. And neither had any parent loved their child as much.
“Yah should know that, 'arry, that when yer parents found out you were on your way, they stopped fighting. Didn't want ta risk it while you were so young. Demons can be very sneaky, ya know. An' they wanted yah to grow up in a nice home. Have a happy childhood...”
“Either way, they also had lots of friends. Had a gang they liked to keep close with. Sirius an' Remus an' Peter. Best of buds. They went to school together, did yah know?”
Hagrid told him about how his mother looked, with her gleaming red hair and piercing green eyes, and his fathers charcoal hair, “that yah got as well”, and how Harry's mother always helped out those in need. Had even helped Hagrid out once, back at school. He had been the grounds-keeper, still were in fact, and some little rascals had got it into their heads to bully him. She had been fierce in the way she slew them down, scratching at their own insecurities like they had tore at Hagrid being so large as he was. And then, when she was done, she had stopped and made sure they all had tea together. Showing how it was all fine. His father had been less subtle, but Harry had admired how brave he sounded. How he would never back down from a challenge, even when it was to race through the forest on his bike. He had got into a lot of trouble for that one, but had got out victorious. Scratched and bleeding from where he sped through the greenery, and looking a little pale from the lecture he had received, he had none the less been hailed as a hero coming back.
Then the day had ended, and Hagrid had taken him back to the Dursleys. Had to do it, in fact, or it would have counted as kidnapping he said.
Harry hadn't protested as he drove away, even though he knew that his uncle was hovering just behind the door and that the second Hagrid was out of sight Harry would be yanked in and get the beating of his life. And so it happened, before they threw him into his cupboard as usual. But it wasn't that bad, Harry found himself thinking, because he still felt full from that wonderful stew, and the things that he had been told no one would be able to take away from him.
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry found himself increasingly mistreated. He would get less food and be beaten over the smallest of things. The visit had clearly unnerved the Dursleys, and Dudley had yet to leave the house. He looked less like a pig now, the spell seemed to be slowly fading. So Harry hid outside as much as he possibly could.
But some days were cold and dreary, the rain falling down in great sheets of water. A while ago he had discovered a new place to hide out during those days. The school had brought them there, and while that visit had consisted of the whole class standing quiet and silently as the librarian explained what the place was and that they must be very silent while in there and that they were not allowed to touch any books with dirty hands, Harry had once taken refuge in there from the rain. And when no one had tried to kick him out or say that he didn't belong there, he kept going over.
And so it was, that while he was browsing the shelves in the children section; Harry had yet to ever borrow a book with him home but he did read them there, he found a book he'd never seen before. It didn't look like it belonged in there, because instead of bright colours and large letters it was bound in leather and had a snirkly, cursive writing. Harry stood a long time, trying to read the title. The author was TMR, and that was easy enough, but the title... Harry couldn't make it out. But the first chapter was called “On the summoning of Demons.”
Needless to say, Harry brought the book home with him. Looking around to be sure no one saw him he stuffed the book beneath his shirt before heading home. No one even glanced in his direction, and when he next returned there didn't seem to be any fuzz about it. Probably they hadn't even noticed the book missing. That was fine for Harry. He kept it hidden beneath his mattress and read it whenever he was locked up. Or read might have been a bit of an overstatement. Most of the text was too strange for him to read, but there was images of circles and stars and what Harry assumed had to be demons. Sometimes there was words that he did understand. Blood was one that kept repeating, as well as sacrifice. Draw kept coming in combination with Pentagram, and after a while Harry gathered that it must refer to those symbols.
But there was one image that captured his attention, because he felt like he recognised it. There wasn't anything in particular that discerned it from the other pentagrams in the book, but... Harry spent long hours just staring at it, tracing the lines with his finger. Beneath it there were some strange words written. Harry worded them out, one by one. Tasted the feel of them in his mouth and how, after several attempts, it left him with a tingle in his tongue and a buzzing in his fingertips. It was terribly dangerous, he knew, but oh so wonderful. Harry wondered if Hagrid had got the same kind of feeling when he changed Dudley, felt like there was power urging to be released when he spoke the words. Harry wanted to do a real spell.
He finally did one hot day in July. School was soon about to start again, and Dudley still didn't look too good. He was able to hold a fork for himself now, a thing he took ruthless advantage of, but his hands were still definitively strange looking and when he talked he had a tendency to let out the occasional oink. And as they sat there at the kitchen table, Dudley shovelling food into his face and then letting out an oink instead of the demand for more, Vernon snapped. He shot up out of his chair and was over by Harry in a second. Grabbing his arm he literally threw him into the hallway, shutting the door behind him to save his wife and child the sight.
“You miserable little shit,” he swore, kicking Harry down again as he tried to get up. “Here me and Petunia are, welcoming you in with open arms, and then you dare bring that freakishness into our house! Dare bring a friend who does that to Dudley!?”
When kicking didn't seem to bring the enough satisfaction, too impersonal, Vernon got down on the floor and laid in on Harry with his fists. The boy yelled out as a vicious punch broke his nose and the pain was probably the worst he had felt and the blood just wouldn't stop running. A punch to the stomach halted even the scream as Harry's air all left his lungs and yet the hits kept on coming. It was only when Petunia rushed out of the kitchen to grab her husband's arm and to talk some sense into him that he stopped.
“Vernon, you have to calm down! I will not have you killing that child! Come on, we'll throw him in the cupboard and then go back to enjoying out meal.”
Panting heavily from the exercise, Vernon nodded his assent and got up from the floor. Grabbing Harry's arm he pulled the semi-consicous boy across the floor and into the little area beneath the stair, taking care to lock the door after depositing him there.
Harry breathed heavily and carefully through his mouth. This was the worst. If demons were bad, then his relatives must be even worse. His entire body hurt and he wasn't sure that he would be able to move properly, but an idea had risen in his mind and it was one he had had before. This time, however, he didn't have the will to resist it.
Slowly he got on his knees and fumbled beneath his mattress for the book. He found it and it fell open almost by itself to the page he wanted. Blood the book said, and right now he had blood in excess. With shaky fingers he reached out and traced the pentagram on the floor. It might not have been an exact replica from the book, Harry found that his sight was rather blurry, but he hoped it would be close enough. Once done, he put the book away. He didn't need it to recite the words that had etched themselves in his mind.
Speaking around the broken nose and swollen cheek was painful, but Harry was nothing if not resilient and kept it up. If the words came out slightly slurred, it didn't seem to matter, because his tongue was tingling worse than ever and his fingers buzzed. It built up to an immense pressure, so overpowering Harry couldn't even feel his aches any more. The pentagram on the floor seemed to glow with its own light and then Harry's eyes blackened out for a second. When his vision returned the tingling had gone and there was a boy standing in the pentagram. Though the space was so small he had been forced to hunch over, and an annoyed frown graced his face.
Harry's eyes were wide. It had actually worked. The boy looked nothing like he had expected him to. Instead of the goblin like creatures that had been illustrated here and there in the book, this boy was fair beyond compare. Black, carefully arranged locks and piercing grey eyes. He was of slim build and pale skinned, and the way he held himself, even bent over, seemed aristocratic. He seemed to be examining his hands with a certain scepticism.
“Not quite right...” he mumbled, before his eyes lifted and landed on Harry. Tilting his head, he let out a small sound of acknowledgement. “Ah.”
“Uh...” Harry said after the demon had been staring at him for a while, “Hullo. I'm Harry.”
A small smile spread across the other's lips. “Hello, Harry.” He took a step closer, crowding Harry who backed further up on his mattress. “Are you my master?”
Master?! The word, while Harry knew what it meant, felt foreign to Harry when applied to him. He was hardly anybody's master. The closest he could think of someone being one was his uncle. If that was what a master was, then he didn't want to be it. A shudder ran down his spine. The demon kept watching him with too intelligent eyes. They narrowed at his shudder, then glanced upwards.
“Are they up there, Harry?” He asked, “The people who you wish me to punish?”
“P-punish?!” Harry stuttered in shock. The other made the word echo with pain and suffering, and it made his blood freeze.
“Yes. That is why you summoned me, is it not? To wreck havoc upon those who has wronged you?”
“Eh, no, I, that is... It's not even possible that you showed! You look nothing like the ones from the picture!” Harry held the book out for the other's surveillance.
The demon glanced at the page, uninterested, and then did a double take.
“Indeed, that is not I...”
“So, uh, I'm sorry that I bothered you!” Harry babbled, “I... I made a mistake somewhere, eh... Sir.”
“Tom. And it is quite alright, Harry. Now that I'm here I might as well help you out with your little problem.”
“No!” Harry shouted, “No, you can't! If I'm your master, I want you to go back!” Footsteps started pounding on the stairs, the loud, angry ones of his uncle Vernon. “NOW!”
The smile he got in return was eerie.
“Boy!” His uncle bellowed, “quit making that racket! Didn't you bother us enough during dinner? It seems you didn't learn your lesson!”
Vernon threw the door to the cupboard open, ready to reach in and pull Harry out. But as his chubby hands reached in, they stopped mid motion and his uncle was forced back as Tom took a step out through the door.
“W-what!? Who are you?!”
The glare Tom sent in his direction was enough to shut his mouth. Satisfied, Tom turned to Harry again, who had crawled forward, staring out of his room with big, frightened eyes.
“Do you prefer it slow? Or did you wish for his death to be quick?”
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, without getting a single syllable out.
“If it was up to me, I'd make it slow. Slow enough to see his inevitable decay...”
Tom turned back to Vernon again, and his eyes lit up, shone red as power coursed through him. Uncle Vernon's body was seized and began to spasm, eyes looking like they were about to pop out of their sockets. He screamed in pure agony. More footsteps sounded in the stairs as Petunia came pelting down, worried for her husband.
“Vernon!?”
Without wasting a second Tom turned on her, and a spasm seized her as well. She went down, falling the few steps that was left and then laid shivering on the hallway carpet.
In the cupboard, Harry was shivering too. The monster that stood before his eyes was beyond terrifying, and it was Harry's fault he was there.
“Stop..!” he whispered, “stop...”
And then Dudley was sticking his fat nose down the stairs, sleepily calling for his mummy. Tom's grin widened and it was as if the pain he had already inflicted was making him hunger for more. Harry could feel the power gathering again and knew he had to do something. Barrelling out, he went tumbling straight into the demon. They both fell to the ground, missing Vernon by a hair, and then they were tangling.
As they were of similar sizes, the fight was almost equal. Or perhaps Harry would even have won, had he not been hurting already from his beating. A minute passed, and then Tom threw Harry of himself and stood. He looked furious. Harry feared that the demon would do to him what he had already done to his uncle. He needed to... he needed to send him back. But he didn't know how and in desperation his eyes flickered back and forth through the room. And there, behind Tom, was the pentagram, still painted onto the floor in his blood. If the demon had come from there, then maybe, just maybe, that would be the way to send it back.
There was no time for thinking. Letting out a roar Harry threw himself at him again and they both tumbled back. Using whatever strength that was left to him Harry pushed the demon into the floor, as if he could physically force him to return.
“Go back, go back, go back!” Harry raged, using the last of his energy to push Tom down. “Go back you bastard!”
Then something actually happened. Fierce heat rose up, almost embracing them.
Tom said, “Okay,” and grabbed Harry's arms tight and began to sink down, as if the floor was made out of quicksand. Now Harry was fighting to get away, bracing his feet on the floor and pulling backwards. Tom smiled at him, almost completely gone but for his head and arms. Behind him the heat was even more scalding, and furious screams filled the air. Tom was almost gone, only his arms and wrist still out. Harry's hands had begun to creep downwards. He felt as if something strange was licking at them down there, caressing him.
Shaking his head he was babbling, words streaming out of his mouth without stopping. He had to get away, had to break loose. He pulled, pulled, pulled. And with tearing skin he got one arm loose. The hand that had held it disappeared without a trace. The other seemed to grip all the harder in retribution and Harry scrambled around, looking for anything to hold on to. His fingers found the book, and he brought it down, hard, on the demon's fingers. It made them twitch, and Harry pulled back so hard he fell over. He was free from the grip, and his floor was solid concrete again. Even the pentagram had disappeared as if it had never been there.
After that, life had become different. The first weeks after had been hell. The police had came, and found the mess Harry had been left in. Vernon and Petunia both lying on the floor, not dead, but certainly not healthy either. They were unresponsive to all attempts of communication, and every so often they would twitch, as if fighting to wake up from a nightmare. And Dudley, he was sitting on the stairs, hugging a railing. The rescue personnel had a lot of troubles with getting him to let go and come away with them. Even after they did, all he would do was to babble about evil and devils, and point at Harry when they asked who did it.
While at a loss of how to explain this at all, the police were all in agreement on that, whatever the fat kid said, this situation could not have been caused by an eleven years old child. Something had caused them to go catatonic, but whatever it was had to have been huge. They tried asking Harry as well, of course, but he said nothing. Because he knew well enough that no one would believe his story about a demon.
Instead he kept silent, preferring not to open his mouth at all. Well, except for the times when the nightmares intruded on his life. Dreams about Tom and what he did to his family. And dreams where the demon would be successful, and drag him to hell. This silence got only worse after the dreams stopped limiting themselves to his sleep.
Harry would be washing his face in the morning, and look up to meet Tom's eyes in the reflection. The demon would coo at him, or on occasion swear, and then reach out of the mirror, trying to touch Harry. To stroke his hair or cheek, or slap him, sometimes to dig his nails in and pull him close to the glass. Up close, Harry could see the fires raging behind again. He would tear himself away and it would leave deep gashes in his skin. The next time he would look, Tom would be gone. The wounds remained, however.
Needless to say, the people at the hospital they were staying at were concerned. After all, it could be no one but Harry who had done it. They sent him to psychiatrist after psychiatrist, even though it didn't work out with any of them.
Tom liked to screw with Harry's mind while at these sessions. He would be a hand coming up through the floor, grabbing the psychiatrist's foot and slowly, slowly, pulling them down. Harry knew it wasn't real, he really did, but then he remembered the scratches and he flew out of his chair, beating at that hand to make it let go. Beating, beating, beating with desperation, until he was pulled away.
Most resigned after that, said he would need a person better suited to cater to his problem to help him. Especially since he never uttered a word while doing it.
Sometimes, Harry would destroy mirrors and other reflecting surfaces. While it was obvious that the demon didn't need these to show himself to Harry, they seemed to be his favourite. Harry removed all shiny silver objects from his room and always kept the TV on. He made sure that the drapes were closely shut at night, so that there could be no reflection in the windows. And then he faced his nemesis, and smashed the mirror in the bathroom. That was the time the nurses truly freaked out.
Nothing was working, but as if sent by god a man came by. Dumbledore, he called himself, and he said he was a psychologist who specialized in traumatized children. Especially those who seemed beyond help. His credentials were good, and he didn't ask for too high a salary, so the hospital decided to let him try.
He was definitively different from the other psychologists. For starters he didn't ask that Harry speak to him, instead, after offering Harry a lemon drop, he told him a story.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a society. An old society, but one that had now fallen out of fashion with most of the population. But that was no matter, it existed still, and every so often new people would join it. At this time, it so happened that two young persons joined at the same time. One was a girl with fiery red hair and green eyes like a cat. Her temper may have matched her hair, but there was no one who could match her in intelligence. The other was a handsome lad, coal black hair and a mischievous attitude. Even though the circumstances were different, they both came for the same reason: demons. The lad, James, came from a family which had long been part of this society, and had been expected to join ever since he was a child. Lily, on the other hand, had known nothing of such things until that very year. But after witnessing her best friend being attacked by one such creature set out to find the truth behind it.”
Even though Harry had been sceptical at first, this story caught his attention. How could it not, when not months ago Hagrid had told him about his parents and demons. It couldn't be a coincidence that the people from the story had the same names... But like he had for a long while now, Harry kept quiet and listened.
“Needless to say, she found it, and what she found made her willing to stay and be a part of the society. As they learnt together, Lily and James found themselves to be in love. But it was not all good, for a threat was approaching. A grand demon, in fact. Another group of people had found a way to summon him, and by doing it they would have brought this world to an end. Luckily, Lily had summoned a demon with a love for talking. It told her of this, and she and James were able to stop the ritual before it was complete. But the cost was great, for both James and Lily perished in this battle, leaving their young son an orphan.”
Dumbledore stopped talking and looked at Harry expectantly. The boy stared back, something stuck in his throat. For the first time in weeks he wanted to speak, but felt unable to.
“I'm not sure how much Hagrid told you, Harry, but I believe it is time for you to join us, if you want to.”
Harry managed to croak out a “yes.”
Dumbledore took Harry away from the hospital and brought him to a place called Hogwarts. It was the headquarters of the society, or as Harry soon would learn, “The Order of the Phoenix.” Everyone there knew about demons, and while Harry found himself unwilling to share his experience, they seemed to intrinsically understand what he was going through. He started talking again, much due to the fact that spells and rituals demanded a vocal command. And if there was one thing that Harry was eager about, it was learning more about the occult and how to fight demons, and one in particular.
The demon from his childhood looked, well, the same, but older. Having been summoned through a proper pentagram this time, and not one a third of the size and badly drawn, had let him come through in all his glory. To Harry it seemed as if power was rolling of him in waves, licking at Harry where he was tied up, threatening to drown him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry swore to himself, fiddling with the rope that held him tied to the gravestone, fighting to get up, to do anything but sit helplessly tied to the stone.
Over in the pentagram Tom was looking at him, and he was smiling predatorily. For a long minute – or was it longer? – the demon just kept his gaze and Harry found himself even unable to scrabble about helplessly. But then he turned his gaze to Peter instead.
“Loyal servant...” Peter bowed even deeper, seemingly trying to get into the very earth to show his obedience.
“Yes, master!”
“Why is there a circle of binding? Remove it.”
A binding circle? This turn of events made him even more desperate. If he could get himself loose, he could stop Pettigrew from letting that bloody demon out.
Calm, calm... with more patient ease Harry felt around, looking for a sharp stone or edge. If he could just get loose...
“Well, master...” Peter grovelled, “The terms we agreed on wasn't clear... I need to... you have to...!”
“Release me from this circle and I shall grant you riches beyond your dreams.” He looked back to Harry again, smirked as if he knew exactly what the boy was doing. “Do not fret. You have arranged for me what I want, so you will be rewarded.”
Harry had found a rock and was busily sawing away at the thick rope, but for a second his heart jumped and he lost his hold of it. If possible the demon's smirk only grew larger. With renewed fervour Harry grabbed it again.
“Thank you, master!” Harry wasn't sure it was possible to do more grovelling, but apparently it was. “If you grant me life and power, I will be your loyal follower!”
“Aren't you already?” the demon whispered back, eyes burning red for a second, “Did you not already promise me your eternal service? I will, of course, be sure to keep you in the standing you deserve.”
Pettigrew needed no more incentive, but was crawling across the grass now to break the rune of power. If he did that, nothing would stop the demon from walking this earth. Giving up his carving, Harry threw himself against the ropes, and they broke. Scrambling up on legs that had fallen asleep from the long wait, Harry felt like a newborn colt as he rushed towards the rat that had betrayed everyone.
Tom's eyes snapped to him in a second, and his voice rang out over the field, caressing Harry's spine.
“Harry... do you remember? I have a favour to cash in.”
Harry threw himself forward, launching himself toward Pettigrew, just as the demon spoke. And then the compulsion hit him, as Tom made his unspoken request for what that favour would be. Stop. Losing all control over his limbs, Harry went careening into Peter, sending them both tumbling through the grass. As they rolled, the speed sent them into the barrier, and the force of their bodies ripped grass and smudged blood alike. Harry came to a halt within the circle of protection, found himself gazing up into Tom's eyes. The circle had been broken, and there was nothing to stop him from roaming the earth.
“Thank you, Harry.”
A long arm reached out towards him, and then there was nothing but darkness.
Tom looked down on the boy passed out in the grass. Not quite a boy any more, though. Harry had grown up during his absence and lost that starved look. He would never be a big man, but Tom could no longer count his ribs. The sight pleased him. Even though he would have loved to be the one that nurtured the boy, that opportunity had passed him by a long time ago. But he had made his choice, and so far it was playing out beautifully.
From where he crouched, Tom reached out again, stroking his fingers along Harry's face. Mapping out his features with his fingertips. His boy was beautiful. He wondered how Harry would react, once Tom's plan was put into motion. How he would struggle as Tom burned the world and the people in it. Would he cry? Would he be angry? As it always did when his mind wandered that way, an image of young Harry's face as he banished Tom back flashed before his face. And now he could imagine that look on the youth's face. It made him shiver.
Even Tom himself wasn't quite sure how his obsession with the boy had begun. How he had become a want, a desire, instead of a soon-to-be-body. All other who had summoned him had ended up dead, even Harry had been so close to becoming embraced by the flames of hell. But that little boy, weak-looking and pathetic... He had let him go. And thinking it had been his own doing, the boy had lived his life as if the demon had no claim on him, even going so far as to try and protect himself from Tom.
No matter. Now he was Tom's, and the demon would never let him go. He longed to take Harry, and to lock him up where no one could get but him... but there was work to be done, and it could be prolonged no more.
Especially not as Pettigrew was growing impatient, and his rat-like squeal intruded on Tom's musings.
“My master... please!” He was kneeling and holding out his arm, which ended in a bleeding stump. Right. To summon him properly, a larger sacrifice than blood was needed, flesh and bone, freely given, was a requirement.
Tom grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him up, half dragging him out of the circle. It was unlikely, but not impossible, that he could be returned again should he be caught in it. Tom liked to cover his bases.
Stopping by Pettigrew, who was carefully waiting outside of the circle, he grabbed the arm which was presented to him. He couldn't give the man back his flesh, or it would make the summoning null and void, but giving him a replacement could serve to be amusing. Just a nudge of power was all it took, for despite his fear Pettigrew was receptive to what he would do. He expected riches and to be rewarded.
The look on the rat-man's face was amusing to say the least. Tom wasn't sure what exactly he had been expecting, but the rat's paw that had grown to replace his hand was clearly not it. The man let out a squeak, completing the image.
Tom gave him no time to gasp over the change, instead he let go of Harry and grasped the man's unharmed arm. There was a tattoo on it, on the lower part of the wrist, shaped like a skull with a snake crawling out of it.
“This might sting a little...” The demon ran his nail along the outline of the snake, scratching through skin and bringing blood welling to the surface. As he completed the pattern it lit up with a red sheen. Pettigrew fell to the ground, clutching his arm and yelling.
The pain was a necessary evil, though Tom could admit that even if it hadn't been, he would have made sure it was a part of it. The demon spoke over the sound of wordless screams, and though the country he could feel it as his followers responded. Those humans who had sworn their allegiance to him and had been branded with the tattoo. They left whatever they were doing to reach their positions, and the pain wouldn't stop until this was done.
The scream woke him up. Blood-curling, never-ending. It managed to reach him, even far down into the depths of his consciousness. For a moment, even after he opened his eyes, all Harry could experience was that scream, but then vision returned to him and he saw Tom standing over a howling Peter and he heard the demonic chant. The demon was completely occupied with what he was doing and Harry saw his chance. He needed to get away, to get back to Hogwarts and the order so that they could prepare to fight this enemy.
As silently and carefully as he could, Harry crawled away, keeping a constant eye on Tom. His hand clenched around the amulet he kept in his pocked, his father's protective charm.
“Kah, Muh, Rahn!” He whispered, and the amulet heated against his skin. A feeling flowed over him, like being covered by a soap bubble. He had always found it unpleasant, but it was a strong charm, capable of shielding him from the sight of demons. He had never had the chance to try it against one as strong as Tom, but now was as good a time as ever.
Feeling safer, Harry dared to rise up and scuttle away on all fours. And that's when the demon seemed to notice something was amiss, for he looked down at the place where he had left Harry and...
Throwing himself behind a gravestone, Harry was spared the worst of the blast of power that emanated from Tom as his rage got a hold of him. Having let go of Pettigrew, the man's screams fell silent. Red eyes scanned the graveyard, but didn't catch sight of Harry. Whether this was due to the amulet or the gravestone was anyone's guess.
After a minute the rage calmed down and Tom began to walk along the paths.
“Harry....” he called out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are....”
Impossibly, he was taking the same route Harry had taken. Harry didn't know if he somehow knew, could smell where he'd gone, or if it was just pure luck. Perhaps the demon had simply guessed it, based on Harry's earlier actions. The creature had spent an extraordinary amount of time just observing him, after all.
“Harry... I know you can't have got far. I can still hear the sound of your heartbeat. Why don't you come out now, and make it easier for yourself?”
He was just next to Harry now, but when he looked around the gravestone, his eyes passed by as if there was no one there. Holding back the sight of relief, Harry waited until he had moved away a bit, before crawling sideways to put as much distance between them as possible. Even as he got far away enough to dare to get up and run, he could hear Tom's call urging him to come out. Always so sweet and tender, as if Harry didn't actually know the demon's personality.
As he ran, Harry dared a quick look back. As the amulet only protected him against the eyes of demons, he could see the moment Pettigrew caught sight of him. Those ratty eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise. That was it, then. He would yell and direct the demon, and while Tom might not be able to see or sense him, he would most definitively be able to touch him. It would all be over, should Tom get his hands on him again, Harry was sure of that. The demon was possessive to the ridiculous.
Before this, when Harry had only seen him in reflective surfaces (for the protection of Hogwarts was too strong for other apparitions) and the demon had almost faded into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, Harry had been training with Snape. The man hated him for the sins of his father, though no one had been very willing to tell just what those were. So when things went south with the demon they had summoned; there had been a small fault with the ring of binding and the goblin got out, Snape had cared more to save his own skin than Harry's.
There were spells, of course, ways of protection. Harry had holy water which he threw at the demon, as well as a cross to make it keep its distance. But it had been a small vial, and the cross would only offer protection while in his grasp. So when a well-aimed hit had meant that the cross flew out of Harry's hands he found himself unprotected. The goblin flew at him, long claws ready to tear his flesh and pull the eyes from their sockets. But it fell short, falling on the floor bare inches from him. The eyes of the demon were wide open, and it looked at Harry with unimaginable horror. A hand was holding its foot, and there was a crackling of bone as it tightened.
The demon gibbered and stretched a hand out toward Harry, as if begging to be saved as it was slowly being dragged backwards and down through the pentagram again.
A voice echoed through the room, filled with a surprising fondness.
“Tss, tss, Harry... I thought you could take better care of yourself than this. It seems I'll have too keep a closer eye on you. Who knows what you'd get up to if left on your own.”
The demon had almost disappeared completely, but Harry was staring not at it but the pentagram in horror. What if... He knew it shouldn't be possible, after all the pentagram was not made to summon Tom, and a demon of his level needed to be summoned specifically, but what if...
Heart drumming, Harry watched the demon get sucked down completely. If Tom was able to get through, now would be the time that it happened. The floor shifted like quicksand, and Tom spoke again.
“Don't worry, Harry... I'll make sure no one ever tries to touch you again. They will all remember who you belong to before tonight is over.”
And then he was gone, and the floor was nothing but concrete and paint again. The ring was inactive, but Harry didn't trust it. In a frenzy he picked up the cross ran over and erased paint with it, breaking the pentagram. Only then did he allow himself to relax and breathe out.
It was the same now. Harry had frozen on the spot, not even breathing, as he waited for the doom to be carried out. Waited for Pettigrew to open his mouth and shout, point at him. Yet the man closed his mouth, and turned away. It took Harry a moment to realise that he wasn't going to expose him.
Breathing out, Harry saw Tom striding the other side of the graveyard, angrily turning over a gravestone now. Not wasting another moment, Harry began to run.
The news of Tom's arrival at earth was taken with mixed reactions. Dumbledore, ever on Harry's side, looked deeply concerned with the development. Snape, on the other hand, was looking sceptical. He wasn't the only one. Fudge, who mainly took care of getting rid of the media's attention and wasn't much on the field himself, voiced that scepticism.
“Potter,” he said, “while we appreciate all you do, you have done much fine work for us, that is for sure, I do believe this success has gone to your head. We would know, Sybill would have forseen the rise of a great demon and we could have taken precautionary actions.”
“But..!” Harry began, but was cut off.
“It has never happened that a great demon has arisen, without it being foreseen. And we have people working on this, day and night, you know. Looking at the old prophesies and the new, seeing if the signs match up. No one has even seen as much as a hint about this!”
“They could have missed it! I have seen some prophesies, and they are not always clear! It may even be one of the really obscure ones. Nonetheless, it is true! Tom is wandering this world, and I don't know what he has planned, but it can't be anything good!”
“Oh, this boy...” Fudge turned away and shook his head. “Too many battles, you're seeing shadows everywhere. And that Peter would have been the one to do it.. Preposterous! He has been a most loyal part of this group for years, Potter.”
Harry wanted to argue that while Pettigrew had certainly been a member for a long time, hadn't there also been a lot of strange occurrences when the demons seemed to know more than they should? Hadn't they only some weeks ago been discussing the possibility of a mole?
“Ah, there he is now!” Fudge said, staring out the window where Pettigrew could be seen walking across the field. He seemed a bit jittery, but then again, to others it wouldn't seem strange. The man was always jittery, had been ever since his dear friends James and Lily had been killed.
Fudge opened the window and called out.
“Hoi, Peter!” Attention caught, he waved. “Come on up to Dumbledore's office, there's a chap!”
Moments and some very inefficient arguments later, Pettigrew knocked and walked into the office, his left hand stuck in his pocket. Fudge beamed at him.
“Here, why don't you have a seat?”
The rat looked around at all of the, looking decidedly nervous. Especially when his eyes landed on Harry. He let out a small, startled squeak.
“Fudge, sir,” he stuttered, “What, what is this about then?”
Shaking his head, Fudge put on a friendly smile. “Oh no, just clearing up some silly misunderstanding, that is all. Now, Harry here,” he made a sweeping gesture towards the man, “seems to believe that you would have summoned, and let out one of the great demons. Now I said, listen here, Peter is a solid chap, and would never do such a thing. So we'd just like to know where you've been during the afternoon.”
“Oh!” Pettigrew squeaked, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Hesitatingly, his body twitched as if he wanted to run out. But then, something changed with him. Harry didn't know exactly what, but that nervous aura he gave off disappeared. He started talking again, and while it was with Pettigrew's voice and words, it seemed far too confident. “Well, here's the thing. I was out walking when I came past an unauthorised summoning ring. No one was there anymore, but I found Potter passed out nearby. I couldn't get him to wake up, so I ran for a doctor. When we came back, he had gone. So I can't quite say what had happened before, but it seems Harry must've got quite a knock on the head.”
Fudge nodded along as if he had expected this. That bout of complete bullshit that was sprouting out of a rat's mouth.
“Sir,” Harry said, “you can't possibly..!”
“Mr. Potter!” The man was unusually firm. “While I appreciate you as an agent, and I'm sure you were there to stop that summoning from taking place, it seems to me as though that knock on your head scrambled your brains around a little. A fancy dream for sure, but not reality. Please, do go and let madame Pomfrey have a look at your head, and then take the week off.”
With that he tipped his hat to Dumbledore, then the rest who were present in the room and left.
“But..!” Harry tried, but this time it was Snape who silenced him.
“Quiet, Potter! You heard Mr. Fudge, go see the nurse.”
Harry trudged out, closely followed by Pettigrew. It made Harry's skin crawl, and he increased his speed down the winding stair. A strong grip on his arm stopped him short.
“Why in such a hurry, Harry?”
Harry froze, because that really didn't sound like Pettigrew any more.
“I must say I was very disappointed that you chose to leave me so quickly before.” A hand – only it didn't quite feel like a hand, too hairy and clawed – wrapped around his throat and he was pulled back against the man. A deep chuckle found its way to his ear as he was pressed close and the other's mouth was right next to his cheek. “I had waited for so long to meet you, just you and me in person. And then I find out you went to tattle to Daddy...” He was nuzzling Harry now, nose running along his cheek and throat. “But, alright. I'll play this game with you. It'll be fun to see who ends up victorious.”
After a final nuzzle and a sharp yank of his hair Harry was released, and Pettigrew-not-Pettigrew continued down the stairs. Harry stood frozen for a second and when he finally found his legs again and rushed down, the man was nowhere to be seen.
After seeing the nurse (he had to, or Snape would find out and deem it fit to dole out some ridiculous punishment) Harry went to find his friends, Ron and Hermione. They would believe him, even if no one else did!
Hermione was holed up in the library as expected. The rate she was learning new spells and demonology was rather frightening, Harry thought she knew more than him, even though he had been there for a year or two more. Even so, Harry had a feeling that it would really come in handy now.
“Hermione!” he shouted, and got a glare from the librarian. Harry winced, he had always been terrified of her even if she had never laid a hand on him. But she had given him that glare on his first day there and there was just something with it that made the hairs stand on his neck.
Mouthing a 'sorry!' to her, he headed over to where his friend was sitting.
“Harry!” She said, eyes wide as she took in his appearance. “What happened to you?”
“Just what I need to talk to you about. Where is Ron?”
“He was going to have some practical exercises, as you should have been as well.” She frowned. “Harry, what's going on?”
He shook his head. “It's better to have you both here. I'll go and fetch Ron, meet us on the seventh floor.”
“But Harry...!” She yelled, but he was already taking off, running down to the cellar where he was sure Ron was.
Once he got there, it became quite clear that he wasn't wrong. However, he had failed to take notice that it was Snape who held the lesson today. Clearly he had been called up to the office when Harry came storming in, but he was back now, hovering over Ron's shoulder like a bat.
“Mr. Weasley... if you can't even complete such a simple incantation such as this one, however are you planning on actually taking down a demon? The next one you face will tear your face off. Now, again!”
Harry winced. It wasn't easy, but the professor certainly didn't help. He knew that Ron could this incantation, heck, had even seen him send back a demon with it, but that was of course when Snape wasn't present and breathing down his neck. And Ron looked exhausted. Harry wondered how long they had been at it. The soul could only handle so much magic at a time before needing to be recharged. It struck him that this was what the training had been about today. Since he had missed it it looked like poor Ron was having to do double work.
At that thought, he could see Ron swaying on his feet. Snape could as well, and he sneered. “I said again!”
Ron opened his mouth and started the chant. Halfway through he choked, unable to get another word out. The teacher shook his head in disdain.
“It seems your stamina is even worse than I thought. It's a wonder Granger stands it.” Outside in the hall, Harry almost choked on his tongue at that and had to back away from the door to avoid being seen. Had Snape just made a dirty joke?! He shook his head. It wasn't a thing he wanted to dwell on.
A moment later and Ron appeared in the doorway, looking unsteady.
“There you are!” Harry whispered, unwilling to be caught by Snape. If he was, he might be forced into the lesson now and there just was no time for it. “Come on, I've got you.” Bracing his friend under the arms, Harry led him up the stairs.
By the third floor, Harry regretted that deciding that they would meet on the 7th. It was just too far and Ron was barely walking by himself.
“Harry,” he said with a voice that sounded like gravel. Too much magic wore away at the vocal chords. “Where were you? How could you leave me alone for that lesson?”
“I'm sorry,” And Harry was, in many ways, “I promise it wasn't willingly. I'll explain it soon, just hold on, alright? We just gotta get to Hermione as well.”
They managed three more stairs before they had to stop. Harry felt like he had dragged Ron up the last stair, and they were both exhausted now.
“You just had to pick the top floor, didn't you?” Ron wheezed.
Harry shook his head. “Sorry. Had I know you were this out of shape I would have picked a lower floor.” Ron gave him a weak glare.”Alright, let's do this. One more stair.”
Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder, even as the other boy groaned. It was with a lot of pain that the pair made it up.
Hermione was waiting from them on the top of the stairs and she didn't look very impressed. She grabbed Ron's other arm and together they went to their secret room. They called it “the room of requirement” because, well, that's what it was. Someone long ago had cast a spell for the door to connect to a series of rooms, all filled with different furniture and trinkets. You needed to open the door in specific ways to find them, otherwise it just looked like a broom closet.
Hermione let go of Ron and twisted the round handle right-left-left-right and then knocked three times. The door swung open on its own to reveal a cosy sitting-room with a fire-place and two light blue couches facing each other. Harry happily deposited Ron in one of them.
They had found the secret of the room after being told by the goblin Dobby. Unlike summoned demons, goblin could manage to appear on their own will, as they were rather weak, letting them slip through the occasional cracks between hell and the human world. Most of the time they took residence in houses and helped keeping the house. In return they ate some of the life energy stored in the house. Unless there were many of them in one place they weren't particularly dangerous to humans. Other demons saw them as snacks, which was how Harry had met Dobby.
Coming upon a summoning gone wrong, the demon had already slain its summoner and was crowding Dobby, ready for an after-dinner snack. Harry made short work with depositing it back and the goblin was so grateful he offered to help Harry out. Bringing it back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had only been too glad to make use of his services in cleaning and cooking. Hermione found it disgraceful and that it was slavery, but Dobby seemed to thrive at Hogwarts.
For the same reason the small creature had pointed them in the right direction when they needed somewhere to lay low, after managing to spectacularly piss Snape off. Dobby had only know of one room, but trust Hermione to tweak and twiddle until she had found another four. Harry had seen the chart she had made to test the combinations and just looking at it had given him a headache.
Now, slumped in the couch, Harry was rather glad he had saved Dobby and that Hermione had taken the effort to find this room. He didn't want anyone to overhear what they were talking about and go running to Fudge.
Surveying the room out of habit, Harry found his eye landing on the window. It was dark outside and the ligth from within caused made him see his own reflection. “Shit!” he swore, rushing to close the curtains. But as he was closing them he froze. There was something different this time... Heart pounding he looked back to the window and saw nothing but his own reflection. There was no hellfire, no mocking laughter, no Tom. For some reason he was certain that there wouldn't be, either.
Staring at his own reflection for the first time in years, Harry swallowed nervously. This was proof then, wasn't it? Proof that that lunatic demon really was free from hell. Harry had no doubt that he could still perform the mirror trick, but having a physical form in this world would be limiting his reach. He couldn't be anywhere at once.
Shutting the curtains for good measure, Harry turned back to his friends. Ron was still panting in the couch and Hermione was sitting next to him, looking at Harry expectantly.
“Okay Harry, can you tell us what has happened now?”
Harry hesitated, not sure how to go about this. What if they didn't believe him? But they had to, of course. “He's free. I don't know why anyone would think it was a good idea, but they set him free and now he's roaming the world and taking over Pettigrew and...!” He sunk down in the couch, feeling helpless. “What do I do?”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glancing up he saw Hermione reaching over. “Harry, I'm sure we can handle it. But that made no sense. Tell us again, from the beginning.”
“Ah... well, I was outside this morning, running. And imagine my surprise when I'm joined by Pettigrew! He was rushing to catch up with me, so I thought it was something important and stopped to wait for him. He started saying something, but he was too far away and I didn't realise that it was a knock-out spell. By the time he reached me it was ready and he knocked me out cold. Next thing I know I'm in the old graveyard, tied to a gravestone and Pettigrew is in the middle of a summoning ritual in front of me. A big one.” Hermione was watching him with eyes wide open, and while he's pretty sure she's already figured out what Pettigrew was summoning, she doesn't interrupt.
“He doesn't even look at me when yell at him, only keeps going with the ritual. As the final step I could see him cutting off his own hand, throwing it in the circle.” Ron made a retching sound and Harry stopped himself. That's right, he had cut of a hand. But later, there had been two. But one hadn't been quite human. A shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't sure what it was now, but it was probably unpleasant.
“Who did he summon, Harry?” Hermione asked, voice wavering.
“Tom. Voldemort.” It had been a long time after that Harry learned that the demon who had introduced himself as Tom to Harry was actually Voldemort, one of the great demons. As names have power, the demon had given a different one so that Harry wouldn't have that power over him. Still, the name Tom was ingrained in Harry's mind.
Hermione nodded like she had expected it but Ron let out a loud gasp. “Pettigrew let out you-know-who!?” Using a demon's proper name also had some summoning power, a way to catch their awareness. The people who knew about Tom would refer to him as you-know-who instead, especially when in Harry's presence. You didn't want to get any more attention from a demon who was constantly peeping in anyway.
“Yeah.” Harry nodded.
“Shit.” Ron said, which was a rather proper sentiment. “What do we do?”
“What do we do?” That was the question that kept haunting them afterwards. They sat for hours, trying to come up with a way to get Tom back down. But for all her research, the only instances Hermione knew of where when people either showed up in time to stop the summoning entirely, or when the demon still was stuck in a ring of binding.
“We can probably get him down again if we could get him back to the original circle.” Hermione said, for the millionth time. “The circle is a weaker spot and easier to open again, because the first entrance causes the split to hell to open.” It was a good theory and one Harry was willing to believe in, considering he had forced Tom back through the same circle once already. But the summoning spot had been messed up when Harry threw himself at the rat and he didn't think Tom would be careless enough to leave the marks either way. It was probably why Pettigrew had been back much later than Harry. Even if the area still was active, they would be forced to paint it again. It had been an extremely complicated pattern and Harry couldn't remember it fully. The sad fact was that they were out of ideas.
“We need to tell someone. Someone has to have an idea on what we need to do.” Hermione said.
“I wish we could, 'mione,” Harry said, “but I already tried that! They didn't believe me, just chased me out.”
“Well, that was Fudge and Snape, wasn't it? Of course they wouldn't believe it. But Dumbledore is a clever man and he knows you, Harry. He'd know you wouldn't make this up.”
So they had gone to talk to the man, and he had welcomed them into his office, offering up lemon drops the moment they set foot in the room.
“Professor, please this is important!” Despite not having had any lessons with Dumbledore for years now (for all their continued training they were officially trained agents already) the habit of calling him their professor stuck. Harry didn't think they would ever stop.
“Ahh, yes, I was wondering when you'd get back to me again, Harry.” Dumbledore looked at him, eyes twinkling. “This is about Tom again, isn't it?”
They nodded.
“It is a troublesome situation, I have no doubt. Only once before have we heard of a great demon being properly summoned to this world. And let out, none the less!” He still seemed so damned cheerful, Harry couldn't understand it.
“What was done, professor?!” Hermione asked, voice screeching slightly in her anxiety.
“Ah, if I remember correctly it was the demon Grindewald. Fearsome beast, that. He was forced back, though only with great loss.” Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. “If memory serves he was forced back through the same summoning circle from which he had come. It can be quite tricky, otherwise. Normal banishing spells wouldn't work.”
“So that's it?” Harry felt at a loss. “We need to use the same circle?”
“I believe it would be the easiest way, my boy.”
Harry fell silent, pondering. So they needed to get Tom back through the seal in the graveyard. But it was most likely not even existing still. Tom was clever, he would definitively have destroyed it, wouldn't he?
“We have to go look.” He turned to his friends. “The seal will probably be destroyed but it by some chance it still is there..!”
“But Harry,” Ron chimed in, “it could be a trap. Don't you think you-know-who would think of this? Strategically it's a great position for a trap.”
Harry hadn't thought about that. But now that it was mentioned, it was the perfect position for a trap. Because even knowing that it was one, they would need to go there. More specifically, Harry would need to go there. He couldn't send anyone else or the demon would probably massacre them without a second thought or batting an eyelash.
“I still have to go. We need to know if this plan can work or not. And if he is there, I can make sure to force him back once and for all!”
Hermione shook her head. “It's too risky, Harry! And even if he doesn't get one over you, how are you planning on getting him back? Professor,” she whipped her head around, turning to the old man, “do you know exactly how to get a demon of this strength back?”
Dumbledore blinked at them serenely. For someone who believed them about this, he seemed awfully calm. “That, I believe, was managed through an equal measure of willpower as it was by force. Once in the circle, the demon was shut in by a circle of binding. Then...” he paused and for the first time the twinkle in his eye seemed to be gone. “...blood was needed to open the portal to hell again, but once the cut was made the demons ensured that it would keep flowing. They couldn't stop, the ritual had to keep going, even if it meant that one of them would be sacrificed. She told them to continue, knowing that it would drain her completely and take her life. But she told them to keep going and didn't allow them to stop. As if it didn't hurt at all, she told them to continue. Once the last of the blood was gone, the demon seemed to go back of his own free will. Through no effort at all he was pushed back down...”
Chills ran down Harry's spine. A human sacrifice. Would that be the only way to send Tom back? The thought made him sick to his stomach. He could never ask anyone to make that sacrifice.
“There has to be another way! We can't let anyone die!”
Dumbledore turned his sad eyes to Harry. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, Harry. But this is a matter I have looked into deeply, and the only way is by a sacrifice. You see, demons will fight back with all of their might, you know this. And normal ones can be banished with a lesser sacrifice, by throwing energy at them. You can recover from this, but to force a great demon back into the pit you need so much energy it will always destroy. The moment of death brings with it such a surge of energy that the demon can be forced back.”
“But...!” Harry said, just as Hermione spoke. “Maybe we could find a way to divide the energy? Take it from more people to make up for it?”
The old professor smiled at them, a melancholy smile. “It is a thing which should be possible in theory, but you might find that doing it practically is near impossible.” He bent down and reached into his desk. “Here, take this.” He handed Hermione a slim book. “It was written by an unnamed author from the early 19th century, a great study of demonology. He has studied the energy needed for the summoning and the banishing of demons. You will find my own notes on the subject as well.”
Hermione took the book gently, taking care not to break the book.
“I never made much progress with it, but I hope your fresh eyes will be able to find a way.” He paused. “I think you all know this, but it is of utmost importance that we stop him. Even if he doesn't do it himself, this world was never made to withstand demons. The barriers between our worlds will break.”