Blue flame of the east, Red flame of the west

This is my first English fanfic. I'm not a Native Speaker. Please review. I need to know how bad I did this. -.-

 

Chapter 3: The Demon

The Dursley's were gaining more creative heights in punishing Harry. He was supposed to come before 5:00 PM to clean the garage. He was 5 minutes late. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia dragged him to the bathroom and dunk his head underwater. They repeated this procedure for 30 minutes and left Harry in the bathroom, gasping for breath. He was still expected to clean the garage, which he did for the rest of the evening.

Once he was safe in his bedroom, Harry looked at the presents Ji-ho gave him. It was -- for the lack of better words again -- exotic: real Native American pahos (prayer sticks), a feather headdress like the one Ji-ho always wore made from real white eagle feathers, and a small copper mirror hanging on a chain. Ji-ho told him that the mirror was a boho-kyung -- a mirror that supposedly showed the giver whether or not the receiver was in danger as long as he/she kept it (He said it was bull). Harry put on the Indian headdress, then looked in the mirror. He could see a rather blurry and coppery vision of himself, wearing an Indian headdress. He could barely see the headdress because of all his hair: it was so long and messy that he could only see half of his of his face and the entire back side of his neck was covered with hair. I look like a yeti, thought Harry. I really need a haircut…

He turned his attention to the letter he was writing, or rather, trying to write. He meant to write a letter to Sirius asking if there was anyway he could go with Ji-ho to London. He knew the chances of getting 'no' for an answer was nearly 100%, but one can never know without trying. He tried to write, but his hand was so numb and weak it couldn't even hold the quill properly. He slapped it out of frustration.

Come ON! It not like I'm starved or anything!

This wasn't strictly true; Harry remembered he wasn't given any food from the Dursley's for the past 16 hours. He ate Ji-ho's lunch, though it was excellent as ever, wasn't enough to last a day.

Harry ended up sneaking into Dudley's bedroom and typing out the letter on Dudley's computer and printing it out. At least he had the use of one of his fingers … He began to proof read his letter:

Dear Snuffles (and P.R.L. if you're there,)

Thank you for the goggles and birthday cake. I bet the goggles will be extremely useful this Quidditch season.

Dudley's diet is still not going too well. He did loose some weight, but he still doesn't fit into his school uniforms. The Dursley's aren't happy about it.

Ji-ho -- you remember Ji-ho right? -- Well Ji-ho mentioned something about a ceramics exhibition in London. Would it be safe to go to London with Ji-ho to go there? It's a one-day-only event and I really want to go … I'd really like a break from the Dursley's.

I know, I know. Voldemort's and the Death Eaters are still loose, trying to kill me so I should be watching my back with constant vigilance and all that. But can it be possible? I won't mind if the answer is no, but just … consider it.

Thanks again,

Harry

 

Yeah that's good, thought Harry. Sirius sounded constantly and increasingly more worried in his letters and Harry didn't want to worry him any further. He did mention about THE night, but not with all the horror it merited. Harry dare not mention about the beatings or the punishments -- Sirius would be swooping over Privet Drive trying to rescue his godson and get caught either by the muggle police or the ministry Aurors in the process.

I can get over this. It's not that bad, Harry kept telling himself.

The problem was it was bad.

And Harry had no idea it was about to get even worse.

* * * * *

Harry Potter was dreaming again.

Hogwarts grounds, he was standing on Hogwarts grounds. It was wonderful sunny day. Small flowers were everywhere. Petals and leaves were flying in the wind. It smelt like pine and sycamore, daisies and poppies. He smiled. He turned around.

The Weasley's were at the lake. He could see Hermione with them as well. They started to wave at him. He ran towards them.

Ron was smiling and laughing at him with Hermione. They start to tease one another. Then somebody called out. Harry turned around.

"Sirius!! Professor Lupin!! Hagrid!! Over here!!!"

They were here. Sirius no longer looking like a haunted, filthy ghost but strong and handsome, much like the man he saw in the picture of his parent's wedding. No haunted look in his eye, just mischievousness. He held Harry in a tight bear hug.

Lupin was smiling at them. Hagrid was beaming, holding a large pot full of homemade ice cream. Everybody digs in, not bothering with separate cups.

Now everyone was playing in the lake. Harry followed them.

Harry could see small white fishes swimming in the water. He tried to grab one, but they kept eluding his catch.

He finally got one.

Only it didn't feel like a fish. It was hard … like a stone.

Harry looked at the fish with surprise and saw it was not a fish. It was a bone.

He looked around in horror. The Hogwarts grounds were burned, the castle a smothering piles of rubble. There were no flowers. All he saw as blood, mountains of corpses, needle sharp mountains, and abandoned body parts.

A familiar coldness swept over him. Then he saw it: dementors, hundreds of dementors had surrounded Sirius and Lupin. Their faces were contorted with terror. Harry tried to cry out but his throat didn't work. He tried to run to Sirius but found he couldn't move either.

"Harry!!!"

This time it was Ginny. A Basilisk, larger and deadlier and ever it was looming over Ginny. It already killed the rest of her brothers; He could see Fred and George's dead bodies were on top of a pile of corpses, their eyes blank and staring, their necks almost completely severed. He could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley speared on a long pole, pieced through their torsos as if they were slabs of meat.

He frantically looked around to trying to find Ron and Hermione. They were at the lake. They were in the middle of the lake. They're going to drown. He could see Ron's red head bobbing up and down on the surface of the lake, waving his arms frantically at Harry. Hermione didn't even have her head above the water. She was drowning …

Harry forced his body to move towards them but he was too low … He had to move … why is my body so slow? … I got to save them …Oh God, don't let them die. Please don't let them die …

Harry swam across the lake. He could feel fishes and other animals eating him alive while he swam. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, and started to spread across the lake, turning it crimson. But he didn't care … he had to get to his best friends …

He was there. He shot out his blood-covered hand and grabbed Ron's hand. He pulled.

 

It wasn't Ron.

 

It was the decomposed dead body of Ron, staring at him with empty sockets.

.
.

[GET UP!!]

.
.
.

 

Then Harry woke up.

He didn't move.

He didn't scream.

He wanted to cry.

But even the tears failed him.

His eyes remained dry for rest of the night.

* * * * *

Harry received a letter from Lupin that morning delivered not by an owl, but a raven. Since he sent his letter about the London trip via Hedwig last night, it wasn't going to be about the trip to London. But the letter made the answer to the question quite clear:

Harry -

WHY didn't you tell us about this Native American man in more detail EARLIER??!!! He could have been a Death Eater in disguise for all we know. How could you be so trusting?! Didn't last years event teach you ANYTHING??!! Granted you might FEEL he's trust worthy but gut isn't a reliable character-meter.

The Library was fine, the restaurants and sushi bars you went with him were within the safety radius, and so that was OK. But I thought I was going to drop dead when I learned you went to his art-studio. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??!!

STAY AT THE DURSLEYS. Don't go ANYWHERE beyond 5 mile radius of the house, do you understand?? Somebody's constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you're safe. Don't make the job any harder then it is.

Swear to me that you'll be more cautious. Voldemort and his supporters are getting more and more bold and 'visible.' You're safe where you are. PLEASE don't do anything reckless.

Avoid the American Indian. Native American's were one of the greatest allies of Voldemort in the States because they wanted to avenge themselves from the 'white men'. They aren't cooperative with our side even now. I don't want to render this sort of judgment over another person as much as you do, but I have to shed that conscience for the greater priority: YOU.

R.L.

P.S. Snuffles is just recovering from his heart attack from the news, so I was obliged to write this.

 

Oh dear …I really blew this one didn't I, Harry thought dully. He was expecting a direct or indirect 'no,' for his question, so the indirect 'no' didn't disappoint him. He was ashamed of himself for not thinking the possibility of Ji-ho being a Death Eater in disguise. Sirius had a literal or metaphorical heart attack because he was careless. Why do I always blow things up in other peoples faces??

It was strange though. Ji-ho didn't seem to be the type to be a Death Eater. He was too … good somehow. Evil and Ji-ho simply didn't seem to fit. Harry was fully aware he known Ji-ho for only a few weeks, but he just knew.

He could have attacked me at the studio … but someone was obviously at watch.

Harry was confused. The rational side of his brain was telling him that he should keep a distance from Ji-ho for safety. The more intuitive side of his brain told him there was nothing to worry about Ji-ho. Who can I trust? What should I do?

Harry didn't know what to think.

He didn't have the chance to decide either.

Latter that morning Harry was down stairs in the kitchen, making breakfast. He was telling the truth when he wrote in his last letter that the Dursley's weren't making him do as many chores as they normally made him do, but the difference was slight.

He was cooking the bacon when Uncle Vernon came in.

"Boy, what's that thing on our head?"

Harry was still wearing the Indian headdress Ji-ho gave him.

He showed his uncle the feathers. His uncle's face wrinkled with disgust and anger.

"Take it off!"

Harry gave his Uncle an inquiring look. A Native American headdress was uncommon, certainly, but not odd. The neighbors would assume he got it as a gift or souvenir …

"TAKE IT OFF NOW!!!"

His uncle bellowed. His face was purple and distorted. There was a wild look in his eye that alarmed Harry. Something wasn't right.

He didn't have the chance to think. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the neck and plucked the headdress from his head.

Harry couldn't breathe. His Uncle was strangling him. He watched with horror as Uncle Vernon pushed the frying pan off the gas stove and threw the headdress in the fire.

Harry let out a strangled gasp. His uncle increased the size of the fire. The headdress was burning -- the leather parts were shriveling, the white eagle feathers blackening … NO. Oh god, please no …

Harry tried to grab the headdress out of the fire with his left hand. He got hold of one of the feathers. He was about to pull it out of the fire when Vernon grabbed his left arm.

Harry wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He kept screaming silently as Vernon pinned his arm on the stove, his hand still in the fire. The hot metal and flames were burning his skin. He could smell burning flesh. Red-hot pain was sheering his left hand. He tried to get his arm out of Vernon's grasp but he was too weak. His knees began to buckle as Vernon increased the pressure on his neck. His head started to swim. The faces of the Dursley's swam away from him in a black mist, their faces oddly distorted, with only the whites of their eyes visible in their sockets …

* * * * *

Harry woke up. Wherever he was now, it was dark, musty and small.

I'm in the cupboard.

He had no idea how long he was out. The pain in his left hand was almost unbearable: it felt like fire creeping deeply down into the flesh. He still had the use of his left fingers, but extra pain came to it when he moved them.

His glasses were gone. Not that it mattered. He could see nothing in the dark cupboard. The light coming from the bottom of the cupboard door was the only source of light, and it told him it was still bright outside.

Will Ji-ho notice something was wrong with him when he didn't show up in the library? Harry hoped against hope the mirror Ji-ho gave him was telling him he was in mortal peril.

Time went by, minutes or hours he couldn't tell, but there was no sound of change. He briefly smelled the scent of burning wood and feathers. The Dursley's were burning the pahos. His wand, broomstick and trunk as well for all he knew.

He now saw the source of light coming from the bottom of the cupboard door was not sunlight, but lamplights.

He was going to die in here. He was sure of it. The Dursley's were getting more and more ruthless when they were dealing with Harry, so he wasn't going to be surprised if they finally decided it was time they starved him to death in the cupboard.

And throw my remains in the fireplace and burn it to hide the evidence, thought Harry bemusedly.

Harry couldn't believe the Dursley's could be this cruel. Yes, they were never generous or caring to him before, but they never had been this cruel. It was simply beyond their capacity of being cruel. What they were doing to him was on the lines of Voldemort and his supporters.

Perhaps this was the work of Death Eaters controlling the Dursley's. Harry frowned at the conclusion, but it was the best he could think of at the moment.

A nice pickle I ended myself in, thought Harry dully. What I'm I going to do? I don't think I can break down this door. I can't even stand up … Too much noise anyway. And if it's a Death Eater I'm dealing with, then Ji-ho's going to be no help …

Harry let out a sigh of despair. This is it. I'm a goner.

[Don't give up] said a familiar voice.

Is there any hope?

[You never know. Don't give up]

No one knows what's going on … No one knows …

[Don't give up]

….

* * * * *

 

Harry Potter lied half delirious on the cupboard floor.

He was starving. He was boiling. His left hand was throbbing with pain because of the burns.

The little strength left in him was starting to leave him as time went by.

The door clicked. Vernon was standing in front of the cupboard, his eyes still rolled over to the back of this head. His movements were mechanical. So he is under a Death Eater's control, thought Harry, starting to panic.

He dragged Harry out of the cupboard. Harry couldn't resist; he was too weak to even keep his eyes open. He was dimly aware it was the middle of the night.

He was now in the living room. The rest of the Dursley's were there, their eyes rolled over the back of their head like Vernon. He saw a hooded figure. A Death Eater. But there was something odd about the Death Eater: it had no legs.

It was hovering a foot up the ground, and it's body looked like a roughly sown rag-doll.

Then Harry realized he wasn't dealing with a Death Eater.

The 'thing' that was controlling the Dursley's wasn't human.

It wasn't even something alive.

"The time has come. You will be part of me," said a voice oddly familiar.

"There's no escape. Resistance will only bring more misery."

Harry had to agree. He vaguely hoped that Hedwig was out of the house, out of danger this time.

A small knife flew out of nowhere and landed in front of Harry. His right hand reached out for it. He tried to stop it, but he had no control over his right arm. In fact, he lost control of his entire body.

 

"The legs first," said the voice. Was it male or female? Harry couldn't tell.

 

He was now holding the knife. His arm was slowly raising it self up, ready to strike. Harry vainly tried to stop his arm.

 

Harry let out a silent scream.

The knife slashed his thighs.

Blood was flowing freely from the cut, his pants rapidly soaking it up, turning red.

 

Help me, thought Harry wildly. Oh God, please somebody help me!!

 

His arm was rising again, ready to make another strike.

 

Help me!! thought Harry desperately, Ji-ho! Sirius! Help me!!!

 

His arm paused, clearly taking another aim. Harry closed his eyes.

The sound of a door smashing open came to his ears.

"STOP!!"

shouted a voice. Who is it?

"YOU WILL NOT HARM THAT BOY!! BEGONE!!!"

Who ever it was, he wasn't anyone Harry knew.

"YOU ARE NOT GOING TO HARM THAT BOY, Hwe-Seng-ma!! TO THE DARKNESS YOU SHALL RETURN!!"

"I will not be hindered!!" shrieked the hwe-seng-ma, or whatever it was.

The knife in Harry's right hand was taken away from him. Harry could vaguely see the man now: The person was tall and rather slim. He was wearing head to foot black.

The furniture of the room started to levitate off the ground and started flying in all directions.

The man pulled out a stack of yellow papers. He threw them in the air. They burst into flames.

The man put a finger to his mouth and bit it hard. He spit out blood as he cried:

"Aam-huk-ui him-ul mak-ah-joo-so-suh! Ooh-dae-jone-myung-wang-jin!!"

The burning papers started swirling around the man, creating a flame-red spherical barrier around him. The furniture hurled themselves towards the man, but where blasted away when they touched the barrier.

The man was now shouting Incantations in the air. Whatever he was doing, it was harming the hwe-seng-ma. Shrieks of agony filled the house.

The hwe-seng-ma blasted balls of flame at the man. The man countered it with a storm of black clouds. The flames vanished within its folds.

The hwe-seng-ma let out a snarl and the house began to shake. The floor started to crumble and a tidal wave of earth came rushing towards the unknown fighter, crumbling the walls and blasting objects in its path. The man shouted more incantations and then his feet buried themselves in the ground. The wave of earth smashed itself to an invisible barrier about a foot away from the fighter and crumbled away.

The hwe-seng-ma changed its tactics. It threw itself toward Harry with its teeth bared.

Harry could see the razor sharp teeth of the hwe-seng-ma. Its eyes were wide and blood shot. It skin was a sickly decayed shade of yellow. Its hands were outstretched, about to touch Harry …

Then there was a blast and a heart-stopping shriek.

Bits of flesh were flying everywhere. Blood splattered the walls, like it was coming out of a sprinkler. The furniture dropped to the ground like hail.

A particularly large chunk of flesh landed into Harry's right palm. He was being rained with blood.

The decapitated head of the hwe-seng-ma dropped to the ground. The head came rolling towards Harry, and stopped at his feet.

 

Then there was silence.

 

Only the drip, drip of blood could be heard in the background.

 

Harry looked at his right hand. The large chunk of blood-covered flesh was still there.

His head went numb. He didn't know how to react.

His turned away and saw the severed head of the hwe-seng-ma. Its eyes were still wide open, glaring at him. There was blood everywhere. Blood, blood, blood, BLOOD.

 

Harry started to scream.

 

Then everything went black.

 

(To be continued …)