Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the 'Harry Potter' universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: This chapter holds a bit of a treat for all of you 'Dursley Haters' out there. Also, many have asked me to elaborate on Kotone's past, specifically, the Kanji on her back and her having wings, so I added a bit more bonding between Harry and the little half-demon. We also get to see a little of how the ritual affected Hermione. A little action, a little emotion, and a healthy dose of angst thrown in for good measure. ^_^ Don't worry, there's plenty of fluff coming up in future chapters, so all of you romantics out there can get a few cavities then! As always, R & R & Enjoy! (Word Count: 6326)

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Chapter 40: The Flight of the Demon

I know a place where I can go when I'm alone.
Into your arms,
into your arms, I can go.

Excerpt from the song, 'Into Your Arms,' by the band, The Lemonheads. (Actually, these are ALL the lyrics to the song!)

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Dudley Dursley sat alone on a park bench where he had been since just after his father left for work that morning. He found himself on that bench a lot in the last few weeks, pondering the recent changes in his life.

When he was picked up from Smeltings by his father the month before, he was absolutely shocked to see the old sedan that he usually drove had been replaced with a sleek, white Bentley. He could hardly believe his eyes as his father stepped out of the brand new auto wearing a custom tailored Armani business suit, complete with a diamond stick pin, silk hanky, and fine Italian leather shoes. All of his friends' parents who were there picking up their own children seemed duly impressed, which seemed to make his father very pleased.

On the ride home, his father had explained how he had received a promotion at the drill company with a substantial rise in pay, as well as winning a rather large sum of money in a sweepstakes. He discovered that they now lived on an estate in the affluent area just outside of Brentwood in the northeast of London. For the entire ride home, Dudley made a mental list of all the things he was going to demand for his birthday on the twenty-third of June.

His birthday had come and gone, and he did indeed get quite the plethora of gifts. He received a motorized mini-bike that he used to make a complete, rutted mess out of the spacious back yard of his new home. The bike lasted most of two weeks before he lost control one afternoon and landed it in the pool. He also received a brand new, state-of-the-art computer system and every game he could possibly think of for it, a full, hi powered component stereo system and one of the largest tellys available, a full thirty-six inches! He got a full sized jukebox for his second room, a new portable personal telephone, a black Australian lambskin riding jacket, one of the newest video cameras on the market, and since his father refused to buy him a car before he got his license, he instead got a horse, complete with all of the riding tackle needed. He had climbed on the horse once, but then promptly fell from the saddle… he never even looked at the horse again, afraid to come within twenty feet of it. He was supposed to be feeding the beast, but he hadn't stepped foot into the makeshift stable at the rear of the property since the day he got it.

Dudley sullenly looked at his surroundings. There were happy children playing on the gym set, others were sliding on the slides and swinging on the swings. He could no longer bully the younger kids around… that activity was quelled the first week after school had ended. He had brutally beaten a much younger kid for complaining to him about the smoke from his cigarette. As it turned out, the kid was the son of a local politician, who contacted his parents about the incident. Of course, Vernon adamantly denied that his little Dudders would never act like a common ruffian, but was thoroughly chastised when he was shown a recording from one of the security cameras in the park that clearly showed Dudley puffing away on a fag before jumping off the bench and attacking the nearby youngster.

Dudley glared at the offending camera sitting up on a nearby lamppost as he sat there morosely thinking, 'I'm not in Little Whinging anymore…'

The decidedly upper-class neighbourhood in which they now lived was a far cry from the middle-class suburb that he grew up in. The worst part was that he no longer had his gang around. Dennis, Piers, and the rest of his crew were many miles away on the far side of London. He couldn't even get his cigarettes anymore, because it was always Piers' older brother Niles who had always bought their fags for them. He had sent a letter to Piers asking if he could put a few packs in the post for him. They had yet to arrive.

The last few weeks for him had been torturous. His parents had some kind of a row and weren't even speaking to each other, much less occupy the same room for more than a few seconds. His mother was constantly bitchy to everyone around her, and his father was nearly as grouchy, although there were times that he looked rather distressed, but those were the times where he tried to enter his mother's bedroom… he shuddered as he recalled the words that came from his mother on those particular occasions. He wasn't sure what their row was about, specifically… something about his mother being lied to or some such thing. He thought that it might have had something to do with his cousin, but he couldn't be sure.

That was another thing that Dudley couldn't help but to notice, the absence of his freak cousin. He was supposed to be back from that 'school' of his the month before. His father said that the 'boy' had gone to stay with his other friends and wouldn't ever be back. That struck him as odd, because he distinctly remembered the scary old freak telling them that he needed to come back one last time. Maybe that was the cause of his parents' row. Actually, he was quite relieved when he found out that his cousin wasn't coming back… if what the old goat said was true, his cousin would be able to perform that 'unnaturalness' at home, and he shuddered to think what would be done to him as payback for all the years he had tortured the little runt.

Dudley was distracted from his thoughts as he heard a police siren wailing in the distance and continuously getting nearer. He knew they weren't coming for him, which was a distinct change from the way things were the previous summer. He watched the patrol car zoom along the main road, where it stopped at the northwest corner of the park.

Now that he was paying attention, he heard the sound of loud voices yelling from that direction. There were now other sirens approaching, more police and, from the sound of it, the fire brigade as well. He looked above the treeline to the north and saw a billowing cloud of smoke. The voices in the distance were getting louder, punctuated by sporadic screams of terror.

He jumped as he heard the sounds of firearms being discharged. Just then he saw a large group of people emerging from the treeline, moving rather quickly in his direction. As the wind was coming from their direction, he caught a whiff of could only be rancid meat. He stood up to get a better look, and when the massive crowd got to within a few hundred feet from him, he felt his blood run cold.

The crowd consisted of a mass of people in various states of decomposition. Those that had any clothes at all were wearing tattered remnants and rags that hung from their nearly skeletal forms. Some were missing one or both arms, and even a few had no heads.

Dudley began running towards his house just off the south end of the park. He wasn't quite sure if he would make it to his house before being overtaken by the throng of zombies. As he neared the road that marked the park's southern boundary, two police cruisers and a wagon screeched to a halt at the curb. Policemen armed with pistols and shotguns poured from the vehicles and took up positions behind them. As Dudley ran past, the officers began shooting into the mass of undead.

Dudley didn't bother to stop to watch the action, he continued across the street towards the lane that led to his house. If he had bothered to look back, he would have seen the policemen being overrun by the mass of inferi, however, he did hear their screams as he turned the corner to the adjacent lane. A few minutes later, Dudley burst through his front door screaming for his mother between heaving gasps for breath.

Petunia Dursley came rushing from the kitchen, looking every bit as bitchy as was recently the usual for her, "What did you do this time? I heard the sirens out there…"

"Mum!" he managed to heave out between pants, "Zombies! Hundreds of 'em… coming this way!"

Petunia's eyes narrowed at her son as she hissed out, "Don't give me any of that! I told you that if you got into any more trouble with the police that we wouldn't bail you out of it! You're old enough to…"

"I'm not lying, Mum!" yelled Dudley petulantly as he pointed to the front window, "Look for yourself!"

Petunia scowled at her son as she strode to the window and threw it open. She stuck her head out and looked over the large circular driveway and across the wide front lawn. She could hear yells and screams coming from over the tall hedge that separated their property from the neighbour's. Her eyes widened as one section of the hedge collapsed and a group of walking corpses shambled through into the yard.

"Come with me!" commanded Petunia as she grabbed her son's meaty hand and tried to pull his massive bulk towards the stairs. Once at the top, she entered the den where she had been spending an inordinate amount of time perusing the contents of an old shoebox.

She ran to the desk and quickly pulled the lid from the box just as she heard the breaking glass and cracking wood that was the front door. She pulled a very old and yellowed parchment envelope from inside of the box, quickly opened it and withdrew the letter from within.

She unfolded the letter and scanned down the page. After reading it, she held it out towards Dudley and said, "Touch the edge of this, quickly!"

Dudley, who was bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, looked up to the paper that his mother held. He reached out a trembling hand and took the corner of the letter. Outside of the house, they could hear the high-pitched whine of the civil defense sirens, sirens that haven't been used in many, many decades.

"Danger!" yelled Petunia as the door to the den splintered inward under the force of the approaching inferius.

Both Dudley and Petunia felt the sensation of being pulled forward by their stomachs as they disappeared in a fall of color from the now burning Brentwood Estate house.

They both landed roughly on a thinly carpeted stone floor in a small room that looked something of an old curio shop. The walls were lined with a very odd assortment of portraits and bookcases which contained, aside from the vast selection of books, many strange looking bottles, gadgets, and other items she couldn't immediately recognize. In the middle of the room was a large, oak desk with a very stern looking woman seated behind it.

The woman quickly stood up from behind the desk with a look of surprise that seemed to pass as quickly as it had appeared. The old lady's eyes hardened as she seemed to recognize the two muggles that were sprawled on the floor of her office.

"Good morning," greeted the stern looking woman as she stepped around the desk towards them. This gave them a good look at the robes she was wearing, robes which happened to be adorned with magically glistening stars, planets and moons, all hovering along the hems and seams, as was customary for the head of the school.

Dudley's eyes widened in terror as he scrambled backwards across the floor while pointing at the elder witch and screaming, "Mum! It's one of those freaks!"

The old witch's lips disappeared into a thin line and her eyes shone with anger until she heard the clearing of a throat come from a portrait behind her desk. She turned her head and glared at the portrait of the previous Headmaster of the school before turning back to face the two muggles that were cowering on the floor. Mustering all of the tact she could manage, she held out her hand to Petunia and austerely said, "You must be Petunia and Dudley Dursley. My name is Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

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When he heard the nursery door creak open just a few minutes after he laid Kotone down, Harry feigned being asleep as the little half-witch silently crept into the living room. His eye was barely cracked open as he watched her peek around the side of his chair and, after ensuring that he was asleep, quietly walked over to the polar bearskin rug and settled herself into the warm, soft fur. He felt a bit uneasy at first when he noticed that she conveniently neglected to don her robe, but then he couldn't suppress the smile that formed on his lips as he watched her fall asleep almost immediately. What was it with her and sleeping on the floor, anyway? And was she going to make a habit of prancing around nude?

The smile that appeared faded as his eyes drifted over to Hermione. The dim lighting was provided magically by a long glass tube that lined the walls near the ceiling. It resembled a thick muggle neon light that cast an off-white glow about the room. Even in the low illumination, he could tell that her complexion was still just as ghostly white as it was when she was first placed on the sofa.

That was at midnight. The sun had long been over the horizon, and Hermione's skin still looked extremely pale. He had recognized the potions that Ben had administered to her the night before as being a blood replenishing potion and a sleeping draught. Apparently, the sleeping potion worked just fine, but he was beginning to wonder about the effectiveness of the blood replenisher.

Harry glanced up, looking at the clear, blue, mid-morning sky through the large, dirty skylight above the loft. He hadn't moved from his position in the suspended, egg-shaped chair where he had been watching his two sleeping girls all night, but the chair was comfortable enough for him. When he looked back down, he saw Kotone's sad violet eyes looking up at him from the floor. She was wearing an uneasy expression, apparently wondering if he was angry with her for sneaking out of her bed.

Harry gave her a smile, which seemed to put the little half-witch at ease. His smile slowly faded, though, when he remembered what he had noticed about the characters seared deeply along her spine, and he was also incredibly curious about the idea of her having wings. He even considered asking her how a ten-year-old could have fully developed breasts, but couldn't think of a way to casually bring the subject up.

"Kotone," said Harry quietly, so as not to disturb Hermione, "in one of your memories that you shared with me yesterday… I couldn't really see, but more like 'felt' that you had wings. What happened to them?"

Kotone's eyes dropped to the rug beneath her and she let out a sad little sigh. Without looking up, she softly asked, "Would you like to see?"

"Not if you don't want me to… I was just curious. I felt one of them break when those other kids were throwing rocks at me… err… at you…"

Kotone looked up from the rug and locked eyes with Harry. The all too familiar feeling of time shifting came over him as the room disappeared into darkness. The next thing Harry knew, he was flying just above the treetops over a wide, unfamiliar forest. The feeling of joy and freedom coursed through his soul as he canted his right wing and swooped sideways down into the woods, weaving through the trees with exhilarating agility and swiftness. With one powerful stroke of his wings, he climbed up above the canopy and into the sky. He wished he didn't have all of these stupid clothes on… they were slowing him down far too much.

He knew that he wasn't supposed to be flying, but it had been so long since he was able to stretch his wings and the springtime weather was so pleasant that he couldn't resist. He planned to take only a quick flight over the forest and then go right back into his room, but that was forgotten as soon as he felt the wind in his hair and beneath his wings.

In the corners of his vision, he could just see the bony, leading edge of his white, fleshy wings as they forcefully pushed down against the air, keeping him aloft. With natural ease, he dropped one wing and banked left into a steep dive. Only then did he notice that he had strayed much too close to the nearby wizarding village where his father had his wand shop. He was repeatedly warned to stay far away from there because the people there would be scared of him… he had to remain hidden… he had to remain friendless.

Panic gripped him as he went into a swift, vertical dive towards the cover of the trees. He thought he had made it out of sight in time, but the red flash of light that filled his vision told him that he was wrong.

The next thing he knew, he was on his back being dragged roughly by his ankles through the main street of the village. A crowd of curious children were walking along with him as he was pulled along the dirt lane. He could hear the gasps of shock and the disbelieving murmurs from the onlookers as he was dragged by.

'What is it?'

'It's so ugly!'

'Where did it come from?'

'It's a demon!'

'I'll bet that it's the thing that has been eating the black foxes!'

That was when the first rock struck him. He didn't know what happened at first… he just felt a sharp pain on the back of his head as his face was pushed forward into the dirt. He was disoriented for a moment, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he wrapped his wide, bat-like around himself like a cocoon as the barrage of rocks continued to batter his body.

Harry was forced to once again endure the portion of the vision that he had already experienced until he fell unconscious.

It was well into the night the next time he opened his eyes. He found himself hanging upside-down from a tree at the end of the village. His wrists were bound together and he could feel the rough rope biting into the skin around his ankles. Every portion of his body seemed to be screaming in pain, but especially down the middle of his back from his neck to his tail. Something was lazily bumping against the side of his face, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was his left wing, hanging uselessly by a thin strip of bloody sinew that was still attached to his shoulder. He looked at the ground below him and saw the wide, darkened patch of earth that was soaked with his blood.

He tried to cry out, but found that he just didn't have the energy. His vision blurred and he felt the tears travel from his eyes and down along his forehead before blackness came again.

He then had a vague, fleeting vision of the very concerned face of his father as he was being carried through the woods.

After another gap, he saw nothing due to the bandages around his head, but heard the teary voice of his mother, '…is too much damage, she cannot fly with only one wing, and that one is badly torn and broken. We will have to cut that one off, also. How could they do this to her… to any five-year-old child?'

His father then spoke, 'They do not see her as a child… only as a monster. That is why they tried to banish her. They thought that branding that spell on her would cast her back to san'akushu (a type of Hell). Too many are wrapped up in the old ways… and they fear what they do not understand…'

The living room of the beach house emerged from the darkness, and Harry found himself looking into Kotone's leaking eyes. When the young half-witch stood up, Harry's eyes widened. He knew what she was about to do.

He quickly took Hermione's wand from his belt and said, "Accio Kotone's robe!"

The transfigured kimono-robe flew out from the nursery and into Harry's hand, just in time for him to be able to wrap it around her naked body before enveloping her in a comforting embrace and letting her cry into his shirt.

"It's going to be okay," said Harry softly as he hugged her, "I'm not going to let anything like that ever happen again."

It took a few minutes for Kotone to calm down. As soon as her sobs had turned into the occasional sniffle, an idea came to him. He lifted her head from his chest and said with a smile, "Would you like to fly again?"

Kotone had a confused look in her eyes as Harry stood up from the chair and walked to the pile of stuff that he brought from Grimmauld Place. Harry heard her let out a surprised gasp as he lifted his Firebolt from the pile.

A minute later, Harry was zooming low over the ocean with Kotone's back resting firmly against his torso. He leaned forward to gauge how the girl was doing, and the look he saw in her eyes was priceless. Even the mask was displaying the largest grin he had yet seen on it.

Harry was taking it easy as he glided over the whitecaps. He kept the speed to a moderate pace, not wanting to scare Kotone. He made some lazy turns and a few mild maneuvers, always keeping just a few feet from the water.

"Faster! Faster!" Kotone's laughing voice sounded above the rushing wind, "Don't you know how to fly?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the question. His mind returned to the memory of Kotone when she had her wings. Even at such a young age, the maneuvers that she performed were nothing less than breathtaking. A grin equally as large as Kotone's then crossed his lips as he angled the front of the broom upwards and shot into the sky. 'So, she wants me to fly, huh?'

Harry stall-rolled out of the near-vertical climb to hover high above the ocean. They were so far up in the air that they could see over the tall waterfall to the far side of the small island. In every other direction, there was nothing but clear, blue water stretching out to the horizon. They truly were alone there.

Kotone squealed in glee as Harry suddenly coaxed the broom forward, and then performed a tight inside loop. He came out of the loop in a vertical power dive. He leaned forward on the handle with a light twist to the side, guiding the broom into a series of wide, corkscrewing barrel rolls before leveling out from the modified 'Wronski Feint' just a few feet above the swells of the rolling waves.

The shoreline was rapidly approaching as Harry leaned the broom to the right, steering so that they would cruise at full speed over the length of the beach around the island. He glanced behind him and smiled when he saw the large amount of sand that was being kicked up in his wake. Making a complete circuit around the island took slightly less than a minute at the speed they were traveling. Harry slowed the broom down as they approached the area in front of the beach house and then gently landed just in front of the front door.

Harry easily lifted Kotone from the handle and placed her on the sand before dismounting the broom himself. He grasped the hovering broom and turned around to find Kotone staring up at him with tear filled eyes. She held her arms up to him and he scooped her into her usual position. Her arms, hair and tail tightly embraced him as she whispered against his shoulder, "Thank you. That was wonderful."

Harry smiled to himself as he carried the girl and his broom into the house. He leaned the broom beside the door and then set Kotone in the same suspended chair in which he had spent the night. After checking to see if Hermione was still asleep, he made his way into the bathroom for a long shower. Even before the bathroom door was closed, he noted that Kotone had moved from the chair back to the rug. What was it with her and the floor?

After his shower, Harry and Kotone spent the rest of the morning talking about their lives. He now knew much of what Kotone had been through in her relatively short lifetime, and thought it only fair that she should know about his own upbringing. They both talked of things that they had never dared breathe to another soul, but felt in each other that they were such kindred spirits that they could hear what the other had to say without feeling pity or being judgmental. He talked about the years that he spent hidden away in the cupboard, the unjust punishments, the beatings, and the withheld meals. He spoke of emotional abuse and material neglect, she spoke of long years of loneliness and abject despair, and they both spoke of forgetting how to laugh or cry… or even feel.

About halfway through their talk, Kotone had moved from the rug and into Harry's lap, offering each other encouraging smiles when appropriate and sympathetic hugs when needed. The talk had become emotional at times, especially when the topic of their parents' arose.

Harry listened to the stories of life with her parents. They were very strict, as were most Japanese parents, but they also loved her very much. He learned that her father was the last male in the Oota line, marking the end of a very long and proud pureblood family. She also explained that, because of the end of the family line, the 'curse' of the family would finally end. When Harry asked what would happen if she had any kids, her demeanor instantly changed. She said that it would be impossible for her to find anyone who would accept her in a romantic way, so her chances at having a family of her own were nil. Harry was about to disagree, but Kotone just smiled and said that it was a fate that she accepts, and there was a plan in place to ensure her happiness. She wouldn't comment any more on the subject, and wouldn't let Harry dwell on it, either.

They were both so fully engrossed in their emotionally charged conversation that neither of them was aware of the pair of tired brown eyes intently watching them from the sofa.

There came a lull in their conversation where Harry was leaning back in the chair with Kotone curled up in his lap, both just staring at nothing, caught up in their own thoughts and memories.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Harry nudged Kotone and asked, "Are you alright with just eating fish?"

Kotone smiled as she continued to stare at the fireplace, "Fish is okay, the taste is good, but I must eat many of them."

"If you're hungry, why don't you go catch some?"

Kotone smiled as she climbed down from his lap, "Yes… do you want me to catch some for Miss Eagle and yourself?"

"That sounds great, I'm sure Hermione will be starved by the time she wakes up."

Harry stood from the chair and drew Hermione's wand, intending to try to transfigure Kotone's robe into the swimming costume that she wore the day before, but before he was even fully on his feet, Kotone had shrugged off the kimono-robe, leaving it pooled on the floor as she scampered out through the front door and across the beach.

Harry chuckled to himself at the little half-witch's retreating backside. He didn't know which was stranger, Kotone's recent proclivity for running around in the buff, or his not being very disturbed about it.

Harry was still looking pensively at the open door when he heard Hermione's voice behind him say, "Well, it's good to see you finally open up to someone."

Harry spun around and saw Hermione smiling at him from over the back of the sofa. He stood looking at her for a few heartbeats before rushing up beside the sofa. He was surprised to see that most of her color had returned and she seemed perfectly fine.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Harry as he wrapped her in a crushing hug, "Are you alright? What happened? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry for worrying you so. I know it was a reckless thing to do, but it had to be done."

The elation of seeing her awake and coherent was quickly ebbing into anger, "What did you do? What happened to you? I was sure you were dead!"

Hermione was so lost in Harry's embrace that she barely heard what he had asked. Reluctantly, she pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, "I performed the enhancement ritual. I'm sorry that I worried you, but I knew what I was doing, and it's the only way to get rid of that damned snake inside you… I had to do it!"

Harry looked at her critically for a few moments, and then let out a tired sigh and asked, "Well, did it work?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, "I think so. Care to test it out with me?"

"Are you sure you're up to it? I mean, just a few hours ago, you looked to be on death's doorstep…"

"That's because I was," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "I had to 'see' death. It was part of the ritual. I knew that I performed the ritual correctly, and I would have been fine in a day or so on my own, but your assistance certainly helped. I feel perfectly fine now."

Harry was still looking at her suspiciously, but couldn't really see anything wrong with her. After another moment, he nodded and said, "Alright, how are we going to test it out?"

Hermione smiled and led Harry into the bathroom to stand before the large built-in tub.

"I realize that using someone else's wand somewhat degrades the effectiveness of most spells, but for our purposes right now, it shouldn't make much difference. Now, fill the tub with water."

Harry shrugged, pointed the wand towards the tub and incanted, 'Aguamenti,' causing a steady stream of water to shoot from the wand. Hermione grabbed his arm, stopping the flow of water and said, "No, not that way, conjure the water."

Harry looked a little less sure of himself as he directed the wand at the tub once again and said, 'Aguapario!'

At the bottom of the tub appeared almost a foot of clear water, filling it to nearly one-fifth capacity. With the second iteration, he did a bit better as the tub was almost halfway filled. After two more tries, the water reached the rim of the tub

"Good enough," said Hermione, "Now vanish as much of the water as you can in one go."

Harry nodded and incanted, 'Evanesco!'

A hemispherical void appeared in the surface of the water, causing a 'splooshing' sound as the surrounding water filled the gap that was left. Once the water had settled, it appeared that about one-third of the water had been vanished. It took Harry two more tries to completely drain the tub.

Hermione took her wand back and did the same conjuring spell, resulting in the tub being half-filled. Seeing that Harry was paying attention, she then vanished the water from the tub completely.

"Okay," said Harry, who appeared somewhat less than impressed, "you can conjure more water in one go than I can."

Hermione smiled and shook her head, "Wait… That was an example of what we can do with no enhancement at all. The ritual that I performed will affect how I do magic when I'm in my 'state.' Just watch."

Hermione pointed her wand at the tub and closed her eyes. Almost before her eyes were closed, the spinning Yin-Yang appeared. The sensation of time slowing around her seemed a bit more pronounced, and also seemed to come upon her much more quickly than usual. She felt an odd sensation wash over her, but just assumed that it was the effect of the enhancement ritual. She didn't notice the loud gasp of shock that escaped Harry. Concentrating on nothing but the tub, she non-verbally incanted, 'Aguapario!'

The result was both startling and immediate. Hermione emerged from her state to find that they were standing knee-deep in water. They almost fell over from the force of the water rushing out through the open doorway and into the living room. Obviously, Hermione didn't expect that result, as evidenced by the surprised squeak that escaped her before she quickly cast a series of 'Evanesco' and 'Scourgify' spells to rid the house of the inadvertent flood.

"That will take a fair bit to get used to," Hermione said embarrassedly as she finished drying out the last of the items in the living room that had been soaked, "At least the floors are all washed, now."

Not hearing a comment from Harry, she curiously looked around to see him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, just staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"Harry, what… what's wrong? I mean, I know it was a lot of water, actually, a quite a bit more than I had expected, but still… I… I did clean it up…"

"Do it again," said Harry almost inaudibly.

"What? Flood the place?"

"No, enter your state again."

Hermione wasn't sure what had Harry so unnerved, so she wasn't too keen on doing anything until she knew what was going on. She opened her mouth to ask, but Harry just shook his head and said, "Do it again."

She lifted the tip of her wand to her forehead, but Harry caught her arm, saying, "You didn't need to do that a minute ago. Do it without your wand."

She gave Harry another wary look before she closed her eyes. Just as before, the Yin-Yang instantly appeared, accompanied by the odd feeling of time around her slowing down. She opened her eyes to see Harry staring back at her. His eyes were wide as he spoke to her, but the tone was so low because of the perceived time differential that she had a difficult time understanding what he was trying to say.

Harry, on the other hand, watched the nearly instantaneous transformation of his best friend. It was as if her normal appearance just melted away from head to toe, leaving a very daunting figure in its place. It came and went so quickly when she had conjured the water before that he only caught a glimpse of the transformation. Now he had the chance to fully take in her altered appearance.

Hermione's hair had darkened to a near coal-black, with blood red highlights running down where the light struck it. Her unfocused eyes became shadowed, causing her normally brown irises to nearly match her large, black pupils. The color drained away from her face, leaving her complexion looking much like it did while she was unconscious on the sofa, and making the stark contrast of her eyes stand out just that much more. Even the white dressing gown that Ben had conjured for her turned into a flowing black gown with material so fine and sheer that it could have been made out of spider's silk. Her skin was so pale beneath the gauzy material the he could just barely detect the dark areolas on her breasts and the dark patch of pubic hair.

When the transformation reached her feet, a dark mist seemed to flow out from beneath her gown, drifting outward along the floor around her like a smoky fog that seemed to suck most of the light from the room. The full effect made her look dark and powerful, and even a little scary. If he didn't know that it was still his Hermione standing before him, he would have thought she were a vampire or lich. She truly looked the part of a Necromancer… she looked wicked. Even with the dark, gothic appearance, she seemed to exude a strange sort of beauty, a dangerous sensuality that took his breath away.

When Hermione dispelled her 'state,' the transformation almost instantly reversed itself, leaving her just as she had appeared beforehand. She looked at Harry curiously, as if she were totally unaware of what had just taken place.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione when she saw the astonished expression on his face, "You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

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Fun Fact: The name for a female Necromancer is actually a 'Necromantrix.'