Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter: Demon Possessed
Harry Potter: Demon Possessed
Chapter Sixteen: The Victor
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Harry took a look at his opposition and reassessed the fighting conditions. He realized that he was still unprepared for this duel.
Point One: His offensive power was still rather limited. The girls couldn’t attack Pansy, and his newer abilities were suited more towards forests and obstacle courses, not an open field.
Point Two: Pansy’s offensive power was rock solid, literally in the case of Goyle, who had shifted into a fifteen-foot-tall stone Golem. Not quite as literally as Crabbe, who had turned into a round, top-heavy creature Harry didn’t recognize.
Point Three: Pansy herself was sporting a theatrically wide smirk.
“Well, Potter?” she taunted. “Isn’t your little fan club going to shift? Or are you going to just surrender them to me?” Harry let out a low growl.
“Girls,” he thought, “do what it takes. Hannah, I want you to stay back, don’t fight unless you have to. Hermione, you and Nina take care of Crabbe. Su, get Goyle.”
“What about Malfoy?” Hermione asked, shifting to her monster form. Harry thought.
“Hannah, find Malfoy, but don’t get hurt—any of you.”
With that, he leapt towards Pansy.
“Finally,” she said aloud, ducking under a flying kick. “You certainly take a long time to think, don’t you Potter?” Harry growled again and threw a series of punches at her head and gut. She blocked most of them and dodged the rest, chuckling to herself. Harry stomped down at her foot, and she grabbed his leg with both of her hands. He smirked and twisted, and his knee nailed her in the side of her head. Pansy released him and rolled across the grass and onto her feet. Harry leaped at her again, but she met him in midair and gave a vicious kick to his stomach.
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Crouched in a lone beech tree, the Okami Siblings watched the Duel. Goyle was stomping around, swinging fists the size of tires at Su, who barely managed to keep herself out of range. Crabbe had curled up into a ball and was rolling after Hermione and Nina. Hannah had started sniffing around, obviously looking for the missing Malfoy.
“He’s inexperienced,” Kokennin commented off-handedly. His knife-like eyes were fixed on Harry and Pansy’s exchange of blows. The latter was showing absurd amounts of strength—far more than a witch her age should.
“She’s cheating,” Mana countered. “Look at her clothing—strengthening and agility emblems.”
“He should prepare for such things. No one fights with honor anymore.” Kokennin’s tone was dismissive and somewhat grudging. He narrowed his eyes at the dueling duo, glaring derisively.
“You’re right,” Mana agreed. “He should have been prepared, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be honorable. Oniichan, he needs to win this Duel, or else no one’s plans will come to pass.” Kokennin, long used to his sister’s winning of nearly every argument, simply nodded.
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/She must have done some sort of ritual/, Harry thought, flipping over a kick that left a crater when it impacted with the ground. He barely noticed before, but she was wearing something he’d never seen on a witch before: a skintight suit that covered her from neck to toe, with the exception of her hands. Light armor was placed over her ribs, forearms, and shins. In the armor, repeated over and over, were the same symbols etched into the metal. Pansy threw a series of punches at him that would leave some serious bruises. Harry crashed against the ground with a loud thud, breathing heavily. Looking at his opponent, he saw that the etchings were giving off a faint light.
Those damn carvings must be it, Harry deduced. “Hermione! Su! If I could interrupt either of you for a mo, do either of you have an idea as to what those symbols on Parkinson’s armor mean?”
“Gomen nasai, Hoyuusha-sama,” Su responded from where she was flattened against Goyle’s back. Goyle was reaching back, roaring a gravelly roar as he tried to dislodge her. “I little busy right now.”
“I see them, Master,” Hermione answered from her position, running on top of the Crabbe-ball. “They’re old emblems for strength and agility. Ancient soldiers used to put them in their armor to make them better warriors. If it helps, the emblems on her bracers are linked to the center—if the center is damaged, the others will be as well.”
“Cheater,” Harry said aloud, glaring at Pansy. She smirked, hands on her hips.
“So, Potter? What of it?” Harry stood slowly and wiped the blood from his split lip.
“You challenge me to a fair fight, and—”
“A ‘fair fight’?” Pansy laughed. “Don’t be so naïve, Potter. There’s no such thing as a fair fight! There are always advantages, disadvantages, upper hands, underdogs, close calls, and near misses! Fighting is fluid, ever-changing—you can never look at a duel and say ‘that’s fair, that’s unfair’. Grow up, Potter!”
Harry looked around, taking in the status of the battle. He faced Pansy, panting, and held his hands at his sides. Pansy didn’t see the glimmer of metal.
“You’re right,” he admitted. Pansy smirked triumphantly. Harry stepped forward, hands still at his sides. “I was stupid. Perhaps we can call off this Duel, and join forces? Go after Voldemort and Dumbledore together!”
“That is tempting,” Pansy agreed, grasping her hands behind her back. “But I have nothing against either of those old fools. I’m just in it for me.”
“So am I,” Harry said, stepping closer. He kept his luminescent red eyes firmly focused on her gleaming brown. “They can all sod off, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good,” Pansy said. Goyle and Crabbe suddenly stopped, sending Hermione flying, and stood at attention. “Perhaps you and I could…discuss…these matters later? Over dinner?”
“That would be a good plan,” Harry said slowly. “But after that speech, you shouldn’t be so quick to trust.” Before his words could be processed, a flash of metal glinted across her breastplate and sparked. A blast of magic escaped from her and threw both of them away from each other with a deafening FWOOM. Harry rolled into a crouch, knife in hand and ready to defend himself. Pansy, however, was sprawled across the dirt, limbs askew. Her bracers were smoking, the emblems cracked and warped. Her breastplate was ripped open, torn by the magical backlash.
“Master?” Hannah asked, holding up a squirming, two-foot-tall anthropomorphic ferret by the skin on his neck. “I found Malfoy. Are we done now?”
“Yeah, we’re done. Girls!” Nina, Su, and Hermione were at his side before he could blink. “Shift back to your human forms.” They did so, just as Harry heard footsteps behind him.
“Well done, Potter-san,” said Mana, walking to them beside Kokennin. She held up a small bag. “Are there any injuries, besides the obvious?” None of the girls said anything—most of their injuries had been healed when they shifted, but Su was quietly complaining of a sore back and Hermione of an inflexible ankle. With a nod, Mana kneeled down beside Pansy and took her vitals. “She’s just unconscious, but we should take her to Madame Pomfrey immediately.”
“Potter,” Kokennin barked. His arms were crossed, a stern look in his eye. “Come here.” Harry approached, on guard for a surprise attack.
“What?” he asked bluntly. Thinking some politeness wouldn’t hurt, he added, “Professor?”
“I will hope for your sake that the ass-handing you got was just a ploy to get her to drop her guard. You went into this unready and unprepared—you didn’t know who you were fighting, you didn’t bother to train. I want my knife back.” He held out one calloused hand. Harry obliged, handing the weapon to the older man, who sheathed it. “I let you borrow it this time because I knew you would need it. Next time, you better have your own weapon.” Without another word or any room for rebuttal, Kokennin roughly threw Pansy over his shoulder and carried her towards the castle, followed by Mana, who admonished her brother for not being gentler. No one paid any mind to the stone Goyle and Crabbe-ball, lying unconscious on the grass.
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Lavender scrambled up the hill to the castle. She had been out on a jog, when she happened upon Harry’s little fight. Just wait until Parvati heard about /this/!
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By the time they reached the school, Su had latched herself to Harry’s arm while Hannah nearly glued herself to his other side. Hermione’s ankle was giving her a bit of trouble as she tried to walk on it, so Nina was carrying her.
“Master,” Nina spoke up as they reached the third floor. “I’ll take Hermione to the Hospital Wing. To get her ankle looked at.”
“Do that,” Harry said. “We’ll be in the suite.” Hannah giggled as they reached the painting that guarded their suit. Harry gave the password to Master Kusojs, a strange, scarred man dressed in a red trench coat. The painting slid to the side, allowing the trio in. Harry went to the bedroom, followed closely by Su and Hannah, the latter of whom already had floppy ears and a wagging tail.
“Congratulationssss, Masssster…” hissed Daphne, coiled on the bed. Hannah leaped into her, rolling over the strong tail. The smooth, soft arms around Harry’s shifted to strong scales, while leathery membranes wrapped around him.
“I guess it’s time to collect the prize, eh?”
“Hai, Hoyuusha-sama,” Su said. She led him to the edge of the bed, peeling off his soiled clothes. His sides and limbs were bruised, and he flinched away whenever Su’s dull claws grazed his wounds.
“Maybe later, then?” he quipped, trying to laugh even though his face was scrunched up in pain.
“Master, you need to go to the Hospital Wing, too,” Hannah said from inside Daphne’s embrace. A bit of water was gleaming in her eyes, and her bottom lip was stuck out just enough to be a cute pout. Daphne was giving him a matronly stare (helped, probably, by her lack of eyelids).
“Fine,” Harry surrendered. Su helped him into a set of robes before shifting back to her normal self and escorting him back out the door.
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Pansy stared at the ceiling of the hospital wing. Night had fallen. She had lost. This didn’t enter into the plan at all. She needed to have won. She needed to win or else the Plan wouldn’t work. She had to own Harry Potter, or the whole plan fell apart.
Damn that half-blood Potter. He couldn’t do as he was told. Now she was worthless to her Lord, her guiding light. She was useless.
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Chapter Sixteen: The Victor
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Harry took a look at his opposition and reassessed the fighting conditions. He realized that he was still unprepared for this duel.
Point One: His offensive power was still rather limited. The girls couldn’t attack Pansy, and his newer abilities were suited more towards forests and obstacle courses, not an open field.
Point Two: Pansy’s offensive power was rock solid, literally in the case of Goyle, who had shifted into a fifteen-foot-tall stone Golem. Not quite as literally as Crabbe, who had turned into a round, top-heavy creature Harry didn’t recognize.
Point Three: Pansy herself was sporting a theatrically wide smirk.
“Well, Potter?” she taunted. “Isn’t your little fan club going to shift? Or are you going to just surrender them to me?” Harry let out a low growl.
“Girls,” he thought, “do what it takes. Hannah, I want you to stay back, don’t fight unless you have to. Hermione, you and Nina take care of Crabbe. Su, get Goyle.”
“What about Malfoy?” Hermione asked, shifting to her monster form. Harry thought.
“Hannah, find Malfoy, but don’t get hurt—any of you.”
With that, he leapt towards Pansy.
“Finally,” she said aloud, ducking under a flying kick. “You certainly take a long time to think, don’t you Potter?” Harry growled again and threw a series of punches at her head and gut. She blocked most of them and dodged the rest, chuckling to herself. Harry stomped down at her foot, and she grabbed his leg with both of her hands. He smirked and twisted, and his knee nailed her in the side of her head. Pansy released him and rolled across the grass and onto her feet. Harry leaped at her again, but she met him in midair and gave a vicious kick to his stomach.
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Crouched in a lone beech tree, the Okami Siblings watched the Duel. Goyle was stomping around, swinging fists the size of tires at Su, who barely managed to keep herself out of range. Crabbe had curled up into a ball and was rolling after Hermione and Nina. Hannah had started sniffing around, obviously looking for the missing Malfoy.
“He’s inexperienced,” Kokennin commented off-handedly. His knife-like eyes were fixed on Harry and Pansy’s exchange of blows. The latter was showing absurd amounts of strength—far more than a witch her age should.
“She’s cheating,” Mana countered. “Look at her clothing—strengthening and agility emblems.”
“He should prepare for such things. No one fights with honor anymore.” Kokennin’s tone was dismissive and somewhat grudging. He narrowed his eyes at the dueling duo, glaring derisively.
“You’re right,” Mana agreed. “He should have been prepared, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be honorable. Oniichan, he needs to win this Duel, or else no one’s plans will come to pass.” Kokennin, long used to his sister’s winning of nearly every argument, simply nodded.
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/She must have done some sort of ritual/, Harry thought, flipping over a kick that left a crater when it impacted with the ground. He barely noticed before, but she was wearing something he’d never seen on a witch before: a skintight suit that covered her from neck to toe, with the exception of her hands. Light armor was placed over her ribs, forearms, and shins. In the armor, repeated over and over, were the same symbols etched into the metal. Pansy threw a series of punches at him that would leave some serious bruises. Harry crashed against the ground with a loud thud, breathing heavily. Looking at his opponent, he saw that the etchings were giving off a faint light.
Those damn carvings must be it, Harry deduced. “Hermione! Su! If I could interrupt either of you for a mo, do either of you have an idea as to what those symbols on Parkinson’s armor mean?”
“Gomen nasai, Hoyuusha-sama,” Su responded from where she was flattened against Goyle’s back. Goyle was reaching back, roaring a gravelly roar as he tried to dislodge her. “I little busy right now.”
“I see them, Master,” Hermione answered from her position, running on top of the Crabbe-ball. “They’re old emblems for strength and agility. Ancient soldiers used to put them in their armor to make them better warriors. If it helps, the emblems on her bracers are linked to the center—if the center is damaged, the others will be as well.”
“Cheater,” Harry said aloud, glaring at Pansy. She smirked, hands on her hips.
“So, Potter? What of it?” Harry stood slowly and wiped the blood from his split lip.
“You challenge me to a fair fight, and—”
“A ‘fair fight’?” Pansy laughed. “Don’t be so naïve, Potter. There’s no such thing as a fair fight! There are always advantages, disadvantages, upper hands, underdogs, close calls, and near misses! Fighting is fluid, ever-changing—you can never look at a duel and say ‘that’s fair, that’s unfair’. Grow up, Potter!”
Harry looked around, taking in the status of the battle. He faced Pansy, panting, and held his hands at his sides. Pansy didn’t see the glimmer of metal.
“You’re right,” he admitted. Pansy smirked triumphantly. Harry stepped forward, hands still at his sides. “I was stupid. Perhaps we can call off this Duel, and join forces? Go after Voldemort and Dumbledore together!”
“That is tempting,” Pansy agreed, grasping her hands behind her back. “But I have nothing against either of those old fools. I’m just in it for me.”
“So am I,” Harry said, stepping closer. He kept his luminescent red eyes firmly focused on her gleaming brown. “They can all sod off, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good,” Pansy said. Goyle and Crabbe suddenly stopped, sending Hermione flying, and stood at attention. “Perhaps you and I could…discuss…these matters later? Over dinner?”
“That would be a good plan,” Harry said slowly. “But after that speech, you shouldn’t be so quick to trust.” Before his words could be processed, a flash of metal glinted across her breastplate and sparked. A blast of magic escaped from her and threw both of them away from each other with a deafening FWOOM. Harry rolled into a crouch, knife in hand and ready to defend himself. Pansy, however, was sprawled across the dirt, limbs askew. Her bracers were smoking, the emblems cracked and warped. Her breastplate was ripped open, torn by the magical backlash.
“Master?” Hannah asked, holding up a squirming, two-foot-tall anthropomorphic ferret by the skin on his neck. “I found Malfoy. Are we done now?”
“Yeah, we’re done. Girls!” Nina, Su, and Hermione were at his side before he could blink. “Shift back to your human forms.” They did so, just as Harry heard footsteps behind him.
“Well done, Potter-san,” said Mana, walking to them beside Kokennin. She held up a small bag. “Are there any injuries, besides the obvious?” None of the girls said anything—most of their injuries had been healed when they shifted, but Su was quietly complaining of a sore back and Hermione of an inflexible ankle. With a nod, Mana kneeled down beside Pansy and took her vitals. “She’s just unconscious, but we should take her to Madame Pomfrey immediately.”
“Potter,” Kokennin barked. His arms were crossed, a stern look in his eye. “Come here.” Harry approached, on guard for a surprise attack.
“What?” he asked bluntly. Thinking some politeness wouldn’t hurt, he added, “Professor?”
“I will hope for your sake that the ass-handing you got was just a ploy to get her to drop her guard. You went into this unready and unprepared—you didn’t know who you were fighting, you didn’t bother to train. I want my knife back.” He held out one calloused hand. Harry obliged, handing the weapon to the older man, who sheathed it. “I let you borrow it this time because I knew you would need it. Next time, you better have your own weapon.” Without another word or any room for rebuttal, Kokennin roughly threw Pansy over his shoulder and carried her towards the castle, followed by Mana, who admonished her brother for not being gentler. No one paid any mind to the stone Goyle and Crabbe-ball, lying unconscious on the grass.
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Lavender scrambled up the hill to the castle. She had been out on a jog, when she happened upon Harry’s little fight. Just wait until Parvati heard about /this/!
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By the time they reached the school, Su had latched herself to Harry’s arm while Hannah nearly glued herself to his other side. Hermione’s ankle was giving her a bit of trouble as she tried to walk on it, so Nina was carrying her.
“Master,” Nina spoke up as they reached the third floor. “I’ll take Hermione to the Hospital Wing. To get her ankle looked at.”
“Do that,” Harry said. “We’ll be in the suite.” Hannah giggled as they reached the painting that guarded their suit. Harry gave the password to Master Kusojs, a strange, scarred man dressed in a red trench coat. The painting slid to the side, allowing the trio in. Harry went to the bedroom, followed closely by Su and Hannah, the latter of whom already had floppy ears and a wagging tail.
“Congratulationssss, Masssster…” hissed Daphne, coiled on the bed. Hannah leaped into her, rolling over the strong tail. The smooth, soft arms around Harry’s shifted to strong scales, while leathery membranes wrapped around him.
“I guess it’s time to collect the prize, eh?”
“Hai, Hoyuusha-sama,” Su said. She led him to the edge of the bed, peeling off his soiled clothes. His sides and limbs were bruised, and he flinched away whenever Su’s dull claws grazed his wounds.
“Maybe later, then?” he quipped, trying to laugh even though his face was scrunched up in pain.
“Master, you need to go to the Hospital Wing, too,” Hannah said from inside Daphne’s embrace. A bit of water was gleaming in her eyes, and her bottom lip was stuck out just enough to be a cute pout. Daphne was giving him a matronly stare (helped, probably, by her lack of eyelids).
“Fine,” Harry surrendered. Su helped him into a set of robes before shifting back to her normal self and escorting him back out the door.
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Pansy stared at the ceiling of the hospital wing. Night had fallen. She had lost. This didn’t enter into the plan at all. She needed to have won. She needed to win or else the Plan wouldn’t work. She had to own Harry Potter, or the whole plan fell apart.
Damn that half-blood Potter. He couldn’t do as he was told. Now she was worthless to her Lord, her guiding light. She was useless.
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