Inner Demons

Inner Demons

"Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin."

Aesop (620-560 BC)

***Chapter Six***

"My lord, we have news that may interest you."

Two men stopped at the end of the long table and slid a copy of the Daily Prophet across the smooth surface to the figure who sat at the other end. He was leaning back in his chair and did not move as it came to a halt in front of him, an arched eyebrow the only sign that the words held even the slightest interest to him. Along the table the others murmured amongst themselves and looked towards their leader, a man known only as Nyphrus.

"Uproar amidst speculation of Harry Potter's return," he read in a calm voice that cut through the chatter. "This is what, the third time this year? You'll have to do better than that, Roston."

Laughter rippled through the assembled group. It was true enough - every year the papers reported Potter's return and it seemed that it was still a hot topic even after ten years. The two waited until the noise died down before Roston's companion, a tall man named Birchwood, bowed deferentially to his leader.

"I can confirm this report, my lord," he said, speaking loudly enough for the room to hear. "I managed to track down the Daily Prophet source. He claims, under Veritaserum, that he saw Potter and his friends in the Three Broomsticks last night."

The silence that followed was broken a moment later by the cool voice of the leader.

"Veritaserum may not lie, Birchwood, but neither can it confirm speculation. How does this man know that whom he saw was actually Potter and not someone who resembled him?"

"I..." Birchwood faltered under the combined glances of his leader and his colleagues and Roston looked similarly cowed.

"Never mind," said Nyphrus, waving dismissively. "I want you to go to Hogsmeade and see if there is anyone else who saw Potter. Do not return until you are certain either way. Now go."

They bowed and hurried out, relieved that they had been let off so lightly. At a gesture from Nyphrus, all but the six sitting closest to him rose and filed silently out of the room. When the double doors were shut and secured, he rose and went to the window. The man who had been sitting at his right leaned forward.

"What if they are correct, my lord? Barring that incident last year, this is the most substantial report that we have received."

"But why would he be back?" asked the woman next to him. "He vanishes defeating the Dark Lord and resists all attempts made to find him. Why now? What could possibly have induced him to return after ten years?"

"Ah, Esmerelda, ever the questioning Ravenclaw." Nyphrus turned and gave her a fond look, which made her blush. He regarded the members of the Inner Circle calmly. "First, let us not be too hasty in our assumptions."

"But my lord..."

He turned on the man who had interrupted, silencing him with a cool stare. "If he has returned, however, it raises many possibilities. However, we have, perhaps become complacent and tardy in the current phase of the Awakening..."

"This phase cannot be hurried, my lord. If anything should go wrong the consequences could be disastrous."

"Quite so, Francis. Let me remind you, however, that we have been developing the spell for three years now and if Potter has indeed returned, the time has come to proceed to the next stage."

"Why should we fear some has-been hero?" said another witch, scornfully. "He may have defeated the Dark Lord but that was ten years ago. And we have taken pains not to be as overt as Voldemort was."

"True, Zara, but remember also that Voldemort was in power for four decades until Harry Potter interfered. Potter has some unique ability* and since then he has aged and undoubtedly grown in power. We must be careful not to make the same mistake as my late Master and underestimate him."

"What is this vaunted ability? Good luck?" she scoffed.

"What it is, I have never found out but because of it the Dark Lord tried and failed to destroy him. Besides, if Harry Potter is back, he will by now be under the wing of Dumbledore, and that old man has an annoying tendency to meddle." Nyphrus smiled tautly. "No, whether or not he has returned we have delayed long enough. Begin the next phase."

*

"Why can't they just leave me alone?" sighed Harry rhetorically, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.

Lupin wisely stayed silent as he poured out tea into two, well-used cups. He added some scotch, Sirius' final Christmas present to him, to both cups then looked towards the younger man and stared. Leaning on the mantelpiece of the fireplace with his messy head bowed and his glasses slipping down his nose, Harry could so easily have been James as he has been, in his final few months, weary and resigned. Remus's breath caught in his throat as he watched, expecting Lily to walk up behind him, as she had done so many times, with the baby Harry in her arms and place a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. James would always smile at her and lavish attention on his son, hazel eyes brightening like a Lumos spell. But of course, this wasn't James who regarded at him curiously with a pair of green eyes. Lily's eyes. James had not lived to be 28 years old. James had experienced hardship and loss but never in the way that his son had, and those experiences had left lines on Harry's face. James never had the shuttered expression that Harry's face took on. James had never been marked from infancy by the famous, or infamous, lightning-bolt scar that adorned Harry's forehead. James's eyes never had to grow up as fast as his son had to and had never seemed, even in the darkest moments, to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Remus? Are you all right?"

Harry's question brought Remus out of his reverie and he smiled at the younger man, holding out the cooling cup of tea. He sat himself in one of the armchairs and gestured to Harry to take the other. At the end of the Great War when he had visited the boy in St. Mungo's, he had seen the last vestiges of Harry's too-short childhood ebb away as the loss and guilt sunk it's claws into him. Remus had hoped to shield him from it but no amount of coddling and reassurance could ward off reality, especially not if you were Harry Potter. If there had been any traces of the child remaining when Harry had left England it was long gone now, and the person that returned Remus's gaze calmly, though there was an edge to that calm, was most certainly an adult. It was as though Harry had left England brittle as carbon and had, with time and experience, been wrought into the hardest diamond.

"You've grown into a fine young man, Harry. I'm very proud of who you've become," said Remus at last, resting his cup on his lap. "James, Lily and Sirius would have been proud of you too."

"Thanks." Harry's shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled gratefully. "That means a lot to me."

Harry lifted the steaming cup to his lips, took a sip and spluttered, staring at his cup as though a Kneazle had just jumped out of it. Remus laughed and brought the bottle of scotch over to the coffee table.

"You looked like you needed it. Sirius assured me that it is the finest single-malt scotch whiskey in Scotland."

The younger man seemed to regard him in a different light as he took another, this time appreciative, sip of the spiked tea.

"It's good," he admitted, then laughed. "I think it was you who introduced me to the calming properties of tea in my third year...I wish you had told me about the scotch."

"Ah, but back then I was your teacher."

"And now?" Harry's voice was quiet, as though he were tentative or afraid that the older man would rebuff him.

Remus leaned forward, his own voice betraying his uncertainty. "I...Sirius...in his will, appointed me your Godfather if anything happened to him...but you're an adult now and probably don't need me hovering around. How about I be a friend instead?"

"I'd like that," Harry agreed, then smiled a little shyly. "Though I...I wouldn't mind you being my Godfather, either."

Lupin put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and smiled. "I'd be honoured, Harry."

They regarded each other in comfortable silence as the significance of their new relationship sunk in. It was Remus who broke the silence by lifting an enormous stack of parchment from the floor and dropped it with a resounding thud on the table.

"We had best see to your curriculum." Remus gave him a quick grin and shook his head wonderingly. "The son of James Potter a professor...who'd have thought?"

*

Later that afternoon Harry sat in Dumbledore's office, the inevitable sherbet lemon in his mouth, regarding the cheerful old man over his cluttered desk. Upon seeing Harry Fawkes, looking magnificent in his fiery plumes, had sung a warbling note and alighted on Harry's shoulder, which is where he still was, tugging the messy black hair affectionately.

Just being in here made Harry feel like a teenager again, being called to the Headmaster's office on some matter of great import to the Wizarding world...or maybe just because he'd been caught doing something stupid, dangerous and possibly even illegal. He could all but see a younger Hermione, twirling a strand of that bushy hair around her finger in anxiety, and Ron, making a show of contrition but secretly exulting.

"How are you settling in, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, reaching for another sweet. "Not too exhausted after last night's festivities, I hope."

Harry shrugged, causing the phoenix to squawk indignantly and relocate to Dumbledore's shoulder. "Not at all. Between Hermione's potion, coffee and the Daily Prophet, how could I be?"

The Headmaster's genial expression disappeared and was replaced with a slight frown. "This is certainly not the first time that your return has been reported in the last ten years. I have been inundated with so many owls," he gestured to the massive pile of parchment on the floor, "that I have been forced to put up wards against them."

"I had no idea that people would make such a fuss...." Harry stared bleakly at the pile of letters.

"My dear boy. You underestimate your own worth. Without you we would still be at war and many thousands of Muggles and Muggleborn Wizards would be dead. I know you do not like to hear it, but you were in every way our saviour. That is why there is so much attention every time there is speculation of your return."

"The last ten years have been so normal. And you know what? I liked it. I liked getting up in the morning, going to work and being at home at night without every move being on the front page. I liked walking down the street without people pointing at my forehead and whispering." Harry looked helplessly at the Headmaster. "But when I couldn't even have that I just wanted to come home, be with my friends and just be Harry."

"I know, my boy, I know. But you are extraordinary, whether you want to be or not. Those of us who love you know that it is not because of your deeds or your powers that you are so special, but it is because you still remain who you are, despite all that fate would throw at you."

"That..." Harry felt a lump form in his throat and cleared it. "That's what Stephen said before...before he died"

"Then I expect, between the two of us, we would be right." Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. "Now, what would you like to do regarding the reporters?"

"I don't suppose it's much use denying that I'm here is it?" Harry looked rueful. "Could you...."

"Of course I'll make a statement if you would like me to. I will confirm that you have come back and will be serving here as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in the coming year. And I will ask them to respect your privacy. "

Harry smiled, how the Headmaster could read his mind, he would never know.

"However, it may help to alleviate further media attention if you were to agree to speak with one or two of the newspapers yourself...Mrs Longbottom's magazine perhaps." The old man's eyes twinkled. "I am sure we can rely on her discretion in the interview."

"I'll write to her tomorrow," Harry sighed, resignedly.

"Excellent. The next thing. I received an owl, quite early this morning, which you might wish to read." Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a letter, sliding it across the table to him.

The letter, addressed to Headmaster, was written on high-grade parchment and was embossed with the Minister of Magic's seal. Harry opened it and smiled.

Albus, (it read)

Ginny has told us the most wonderful news that Harry is back in England and at Hogwarts. As you might expect, Molly and I were utterly delighted when we heard and were it not for Charlie's insistence that he might be too tired, we would have gone up to the school that instant. We hope he is well and in good spirits.

If Harry is up to it we would love to see him again and would appreciate it if you could let us know when the best time would be for us to come to Hogwarts.

Regards,

Arthur Weasley

Minister of Magic

Order of Merlin 2^nd Class

"I'd love to see them, of course," he said at last, folding up the parchment and sliding it back across the table.

"I will let Arthur know that he and Molly can come up tomorrow. I'm sure she has eight Christmases worth of jumpers to give you, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Harry grinned. "Now there was one more thing that I'd like to discuss with you. Am I right to assume that you did not keep up your magic during your years away?"

"I did do a bit of magic for the day to day things but I doubt that I'm as good as I would have been had kept it up," admitted Harry. "I was trying to forget who I was...."

"I understand you reasons Harry, and despite your claims I am sure that you know more than you believe. I would, however, like to see how much you can remember and perhaps have some of those gaps filled in by some of the other professors before the school year."

Harry grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I think I'll need all the help I can get."

*

Simon MacDonnell was smiled admiringly as he watched Draco circle practice his fencing in the courtyard. The sun glistened off the blade and the fine sheen of sweat that covered Draco's bare torso as he swung the sword into a high parry and slashed down into parry sept, his feet gliding smoothly across the cobblestones all the while. Lowering his guard, he tucked the sword under his arm and headed to the bench for a drink of water, his free hand rubbing the tense muscles of his sword arm.

"What did you think?" Draco asked, sitting on the stone bench.

"I think your high parry could have been a little higher." Simon sat down beside him and began massaging the sore arm. "If your opponent had attacked your head it probably would have broken through your parry and given you a bit of a headache."

Draco grinned and with the sunlight shining from behind him, turning his hair to spun gold, he resembled nothing less than an angel. Simon reached out to brush the fine hair and leaned in for a kiss. Draco sat still, accepting the kiss as though it were his due and graced the other man with one of his stunning smiles.

"What are you thinking?" asked Simon, pulling back far enough to brush light kisses across Draco's lips.

"I'm thinking that you're taking perverse delight in watching me wield my sword."

The Irishman leant back and put his hand to his own chest, a wounded expression on his face. "That cut deep, that did. Here I am, observing fine sportsmanship and you accuse me of having ulterior motives."

Draco laughed then leant in close and almost tenderly touched Simon's cheek. "Careful with the sarcasm or you'll start sounding like me."

"And why is that a bad thing?"

Draco didn't reply as picked up his sword and resumed his exercises. As he swung his weapon and leapt nimbly over the cobblestones, he reflected on how, when they first met, Simon had been fresh out of Wizarding school; sickeningly naïve and eager to please. Apparently one of the side effects of their friendship, and then their on-again/off-again relationship, had made Simon more cynical and sarcastic. Draco frowned to himself. He knew that he was no saint. Hell, the only reason that he was in the good graces of the powers-that-be was because he had been a traitor to his family. He had no desire to turn Simon into another Draco Malfoy.

Amidst the general silence, broken only his occasional huffs of exertion, a familiar voice sliced through the air as smoothly as the blade in Malfoy's hands.

"I was under the impression that fencing required a great deal more clothing than that in which you are currently garbed, Draco."

"Which is why fencing is not nearly as popular as it should be," he replied, not pausing in his movements to look at the newcomer. "If people could see such exceptional specimens of health and fitness myself, they'd come flocking."

"Quite," was the sarcastic reply.

Draco stopped and faced the newcomer, brushed a strand of silvery-blond hair out of his eyes and gave one of his steel-melting grins.

Severus Snape sneered.

Draco laid his sword down on the stone bench and strolled over to his colleagues, reaching out a hand to Simon for a towel which was promptly handed to him.

"Was there something I could do for you, Severus?" he grinned. "Or did you just come for the view?"

"If I wanted scenery, I would have gone to the Astronomy tower." replied Snape, ignoring the wounded look that Malfoy was giving him. "The Headmaster has summoned us to his office. Come."

Without another word, he swept out of the courtyard, robes billowing.

*

The dying afternoon sun was still streaming through the large windows when Hermione entered the Headmaster's office with Sylvie. Harry, Ron, Snape, Remus and Dumbledore were already seated and Draco was slouching by the unlit fireplace. Sylvie immediately went for the empty chair in the corner where the sunlight had given way to shadows and Hermione took the chair next to Harry, smiling warmly at him. Dumbledore conjured up a plate of tea things and took it upon himself to pour the tea as the others passed around a huge plate of scones. She grinned as Harry stared morosely down at his cup; if he had been with Dumbledore all afternoon, he was probably sick of tea by now.

"Had a good afternoon, Harry?" she asked, grabbing a scone as the plate was passed to her.

"Yeah but there's a lot I need to catch up on before the start of term." He smiled ruefully. "And I think I need to go to the loo."

Ron sniggered.

"Don't worry about the catching-up bit. We can help you with that if you like," she offered, giving Ron a 'oh-grow-up' look.

"That'd be good, thanks." He gave her one of the half-apologetic, half-bashful smiles that he always used to give when she helped him with some last-minute piece of homework and suddenly she was taken back ten years to when Harry and Draco would still glare at each other across the potions classroom; when she and Ron were still ignorant as to the other's feelings; when they were all young and untainted by the death and darkness that they would face.

"And perhaps you could help me with Muggle Studies, Harry," smiled Remus. "I admit, I don't quite know how those 'confuters' work."

"Computers, Remus," corrected Hermione automatically.

"Ah, yes of course, computers..." Lupin nodded. "They make new ones so quickly I can't catch up."

"Neither can most Muggles," quipped Harry. "In fact Steph...." He broke off abruptly and looked down at the cup in his lap.

Hermione stared curiously at her old friend then exchanged a glance with Ron who shrugged his shoulders.

Dumbledore broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat to gain their attention. "I fear that I have some grave news..." His face took on a grim expression and even Fawkes stopped his preening to listen attentively. "I have received reports from the Aurors that the bodies of four Muggles were found this morning near the entrance to Diagon Alley."

"Muggles?" Ron sounded dubious.

"Yes. According to the Aurors there was a magical signature surrounding the bodies, which is why they became involved."

"How were they killed?" Draco asked intently. No longer slouching and with his grey eyes narrowed, he looked every bit the Auror that he was.

"That is something that they have yet to discover. The report only mentioned that the bodies were mutilated in some way."

"Was there any pattern to the mutilation?"

Harry was leaning forward in his chair and Hermione was surprised at both the intensity of his eyes and that he should ask about it at all. The Harry she had known at school had never been squeamish but nor was he the sort to take an interest murder.

Seeing her look, he gave a tired smile and shrugged. "I've been a homicide detective for the past ten years."

"I'm afraid the report wasn't that specific, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "Draco, Ron, I would like you to go to the Auror Headquarters and if you can obtain a more detailed report. Harry, perhaps you could make enquiries through the Muggle police. These deaths may not be significant but I would like to be more informed, nonetheless."

Ron nodded, squeezed Hermione's shoulder and left the office with Draco. Harry watched them go and then turned back to the Headmaster.

"I resigned from the police department before I left Melbourne but they've actually listed me as being on an 'indefinite leave of absence'. If I could get to a phone I could try calling the London police...but I'd need to get past the reporters and to the nearest Muggle town to do that." His lips quirked into a slightly bitter smile.

"That shouldn't be a problem," smiled Hermione, suddenly finding herself in her element. Even after all these years she had never reconciled herself to the more gruesome side of her husband's profession and she always felt left out when he and Draco discussed their work. Charms, however, she could do. "I developed a charm that allows some electrical items to work, by magic, within the school: radio, television, facsimiles and phones."

"That's my Mione," Harry said, proudly. "I always knew you'd be the one to make the breakthroughs."

Hermione blushed and smiled. "Well, what else was I supposed to do while you and Ron were saving the world?"

"Ahem...there's a...telyphone installed in my office, Potter," said Snape, speaking for the first time since entering the room. "I use it to contact the parents of Muggle-born students."

"I'll call right away then, if that's alright Professor?" Harry rose to his feet.

Dumbledore nodded and the two men left, leaving Hermione, Remus and Sylvie exchanging grim looks. Sylvie rose gracefully and set her cup on the tray.

"Well, Potter becomes more and more interesting. I shall greatly look forward to... working with him." The corners of her mouth lifted in amusement for a moment then she turned to the Headmaster, her expression serious. "I will send owls to some of my contacts to see if they have any further information."

"Yes of course, Sylvianna," Dumbledore smiled. "I would not be at all surprised if they turn out to be quite informative than either of the official reports."

"Indeed." She inclined her head in agreement. "If you will excuse me Headmaster, Hermione, Remus, I shall see to it immediately."

She left the room and Remus shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. "Oh dear...I understand that, given their courses, they'll have to work together and that she'll have to teach him the finer points of the Dark Arts, but knowing the lack of patience she has for Gryffindor-types, she's just as likely to hex him as she is to cooperate with him."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "And that, my dear Remus, is why you are helping him to revise his Defence Against the Dark Arts."

*

Midnight. In the heart of Muggle London there is a secluded alley, lit only by a single light. From that alley comes the sound of muffled voices. There is a whispered suggestion; an eager reply; a seductive laugh. Then the word 'nox' is muttered', a word is blurted out in protest followed by a horrified gasp. When the scream shatters the darkness there are none who hear it.

A/N 1: Up until this chapter I've stated that Harry has been away eight years. Upon reading back over the chapters, however, the year is 2008 and Harry and Co are 27 or 28 years old. Therefore, Harry has actually been away ten years. Oops! 'Tis why I sucked at maths at school

A/N 2: In chapter 2 I said that Charlie was the COMC professor - since then I actually decided to make Simon COMC professor. In my fic Charlie decides to move back home to be closer to the family, after the deaths of Bill and Fred, and is the Head Dragon Keeper at the Newton Scamander Magical Zoological Gardens.

* This story was started before OotP came out so I'm going to conveniently ignore the events of the fifth book (meh, artistic licence). You'll have to wait to find out what Harry's power is. I have the greatest respect for JKR but the prophecy idea was too...boring.