Chapter Text
Tick, tick, tick…
Harry Potter sat uncomfortably in his rickety bed in his relatives house, watching the hands move on the clock on his desk. It was July 31st; his fourteenth birthday, but Harry has never celebrated his birthday so he was quite indifferent toward them. His relatives likely forgot about the day all together, he hadn’t even known his own birthday until he started primary like how he didn’t know his name wasn’t ’Boy’.
His so-called ‘family’ adamantly hated him, but the feeling was absolutely mutual.
His birthdays were always like this, it was practically tradition, him alone in his room and before he had a room, his cupboard counting down the minutes until midnight. It was 11:49 he would be fourteen soon, another year that he somehow managed to bullsh*t his way through by the skin of his teeth.
Harry thought about his Godfather, still feeling a twinge of anger at his end of the school year proceedings. So many things went wrong that should not have… like putting Pettigrew in chains instead of forcing him back into rat form and shoving the bastard in a jar spelled unbreakable, maybe they could have shook it a bit too no one would have known, he thought viciously. And Lupin, while yes the situation had to have been a shock to the old system, somehow forgot to take his potion that would’ve stopped him from reducing them to ribbons on the night he needed it the most.
It was like every that could have gone wrong, did.
He just hoped Sirius got somewhere safe, preferably somewhere with running water and some food. The House of Black had to have some property somewhere, after the fiasco Harry had taken it upon himself to research the Black family. In doing so he realized his grandmother was a Black, so he was related to Sirius in some distant way. The Black’s had been quite prestigious before the war, what with most of them dying or following Voldemort and getting locked up, with no apparent heirs eligible and the lord of the House dying in Harry’s first year the House was stagnant and dark but wealthy.
Tick, tick, tick…
11:56, A throb in his forehead reminded him of the nightmares he’d been experiencing all summer, they were of Voldemort of course. Because who else made it their life’s mission to make him miserable, though Harry still had no idea why or the reason Voldemort had been after his family in the first place. And yeah, he was a bitter, but it was impossible not to be after accidentally spying on the fugly man through his dreams all summer and not to mention his first and second years and the guy literally murdering his parents and leaving him orphaned.
At least Voldemort was still an weak ugly baby thing and not yet an ugly fully grown powerful thing, he’d had the brief thought to tell someone about his nightmares— visions or whatever they were but everytime he’d gone to write about it he just sort of froze up.
The ‘connection’ he and Voldemort had didn’t seem normal, even with his cursed scar it didn’t explain why he could drop in on him when he was asleep. Hermione would probably throw herself into researching cursed scars and Ron would write back something awkward like he did when they weren’t talking about chess or quidditch and tell him to write to Dumbledore. And Dumbledore would likely just wave his concerns off and remind him he had to stay at his relatives house regardless, which was stupid!
Harry had never called this house ‘home’ and never would, whatever so-called protection that his mother left behind surely wasn’t so powerful that he had to be subject to the torment of his relatives. There had to be more powerful wards or some other distant blood relatives he could stay with and transfer the wards to their house, after all nearly everyone in the wizarding world was related as pureblood’s have a habit of inbreeding.
Tick, tick, tick…
11:59, Harry consoled himself with the knowledge that any moment now an owl or two would deliver some letters from his friends, a prank item or something similar from the twins and hopefully some kind of food from Mrs. Weasley. Because cold cans of soup and heels of bread just weren’t enough to sustain him anymore, and hadn’t been enough for years now.
The throbbing in his head spread to his shoulders and down to his arms, chest, stomach down and all over his body. Time seemed to slow, even the moth that had been fluttering at his window frantically, slowed. The quiet was only disturbed by the obnoxious snores coming from his uncle and cousin and the rhythmic sound of his heart against his ribs.
Harry glanced at the clock on his desk once more and mumbled, “Happy Birthday, Potter.”
The clock struck midnight officially hailing him fourteen, and with it his very bones began to ache. It was as if his blood was set to fire, boiling underneath his skin that felt like it was being stretched like taffy. His bones shattered and reshaped, Harry wanted to scream but his lungs stopped cooperating leaving his gasping like a fish in the desert.
He vaguely felt himself slump over on his lumpy mattress, and the smell of blood before—
⚡️
Harry became aware slowly, opening his eyes was a chore and when he managed it, the sun almost blinded him completely. He absentmindedly wondered how long he had been passed out for, reaching out for his glasses on his bedside table before he realized it was likely they were in the bed somewhere since he didn’t remember taking them off.
Blinking quickly, Harry sat up and looked around only to freeze as everything came together in perfect clarity. Everyhing as in each individual spec of dust in the air, every fiber of thread in his ratty sheet, every pore crease and scar no matter now tiny on his hands. He twisted to look out the window perplexed, he could count individual pieces of grass all the way across the street and not strain. His eyesight had always been horrid and had difficulty even seeing a few feet in front of him without his glasses, seeing across the street in perfect clarity was cause to sound an alarm, this couldn’t be what 20/20 vision was like this was something else.
Swinging his legs off the bed Harry noted the sun’s position and deducted it was early in the morning, likely around six so he blacked out for at least six hours. Standing and stretching his arms over his head, feeling his still aching muscles pull and joints pop and crack like popcorn. Harry moved toward the door only to miscalculate his feet somehow, and started falling before his sluggish brain could catch up landing painfully on his front with a groan.
With half a mind to just lay there and waste away, Harry rolls onto his back spluttering at a strand of hair in his mouth and sits up only to yelp as he catches sight on his body, “Merlin’s saggy tit*!”
His tatty sweats that used to be Dudley’s, therefore several sizes too big for him seemed to have gotten several inches too short, Harry scrambles to his feet and almost falls again as his feet seemed to have grown too. His shirt had also been a hand-me-down and extremely baggy on his underfed body, but it too was now short on him and showed a strip of his lower stomach, which had a few visible muscles it definitely did not have just last night. Gulping, Harry rushed over to the cracked mirror attached to his wardrobe and nearly fainted again at the sight of himself.
Gone was the short and painfully thin boy with too big glasses and charcoal black unruly hair that defied gravity, Harry Potter was completely unrecognizable.
He’d grown at least a half a dozen inches and his clothes only hung off him in width. His shoulders were broad and muscular in fact, his entire body seemed to be made up of lean muscle as if he skipped the whole awkward puberty bit entirely.
His hair had darkened to midnight black and fell in artfully messy waves to his shoulders, with a few shorter bits that framed his face that looked mostly the same only more symmetrical and sharper somehow. His jaw and cheekbones were more defined and aristocratic looking and all the pesky blackheads on his nose and errant pimples on his face from puberty have vanished, leaving perfectly smooth skin that practically glowed with health. His eyes looked more defined, greener because all the other bits of blues and browns disappeared from his iris leaving only green which seemed to glint mischievously.
Even his scar, which had always been inflamed raised and angry looking looked faded, the scar was faintly silver and sort of shined like Lupin’s scars. He actually kind of looked like a young Sirius Black, like the one he saw in his photo album.
Harry stood there mouth hanging open, just staring at the teenager in the mirror. Just as he started to calm himself, something else caught his attention something that made him squeal, which is apparently something this new body didn’t seem capable of since it came out as a strangled quiet shout. His teeth! He crowded the mirror and opened his mouth wide, his canines looked like animal fangs, his top set had four sharp elongated teeth two on either side as if he’d grown another set of canines right next to the first. His bottom set thankfully only had the original pair, but even they were sharp and elongated.
He. Had. Fangs.
“Holy mother of Merlin.” Harry freaked only to yelp as his voice came out deeper than he remembered it being, slapping a hand over his mouth and immediately regretting it as his new sharp teeth nicked his lip, “Ow, f*ck!”
A quiet chuckle from behind made him whirl around, only to be met with a man a few years older than himself sat in his chair, feet crossed and propped up in his desk. There was something not quite right, off in ways that screamed this wasn’t only a man. He was off looking even by wizarding standards, what was eerie about him was that he looked objectively perfect. His face was perfectly symmetrical like Harry’s own, with ghostly white skin that was blemish free and coiffed blonde hair, not a strand out of place and swooped elegantly to the side.
He wore muggle business casual; a white button down tucked into black trousers with an open blazer. A few buttons were left open on his shirt to reveal a little bit of what looked like an all black tattoo, which contrasted starkly against his white skin. There was a casual cigarette between his gracefully long fingers resting over his lap, he was grinning revealing a set of fangs identical to the ones in Harry discovered a moment ago. However, what really drew his attention was the black tail flicking lazily behind the man, at the end there was a mirage of spikes and barbs alight with purple flames.
“What the f*ck! Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” Harry yelped in alarm, distinctly aware that his wand was currently underneath the loose floorboard next to the man.
“Yes, lovely to meet you as well. You’re a fantastic host, the whole falling on your face bit was terribly funny.” He took another drag from his cigarette, looking all too amused as he releases the smoke into the air, “Name’s Darcitheon, Darcy for short and as for why I’m in your room well… I’m what you would call a tutor of sorts.”
“Tutor,” Harry deadpanned, “Tutor for what? I don’t know any tutors that have tails!”
“Fine then, let’s call me a knowledgeable guide instead.” Darcy rolled his eyes, puffing on his cigarette once again, “Now, you’ve noticed by now that you’ve undergone some changes.”
Harry nodded hesitantly, it would be harder not to notice them.
“Brill. This means you’ve gone through your Inheritance.” The man explained, stubbing his cigarette butt out on the desk and clasping his hands together.
Que record scratch, “Inheritance?! Aren’t wizard’s supposed to come of age at seventeen?”
“Not that kind of inheritance, dumbass, your Inheritance! Capital I, there’s a difference. Witches and wizards reach magical maturity at seventeen, it usually comes with their magical core getting a bit of a boost due to the binds of the restrictive Trace on their core to track underage magic being dissolved. However, we come into Inheritance anywhere from thirteen to sixteen.” Dracy grinned, “You, Harry Potter, inherited the demon blood of your ancestors.”
“Oh,” Harry whispered, nodding his head as if what was said made any sort of sense, “What the actual f*ck?!”
Dracy nodded emphatically, “Yep.”
“There’s no such thing as demons, you psycho! My parents were not—!”
“Right, no such thing as demons,” The man muttered, rolling his violet eyes, “You were nearly mauled by a werewolf a few weeks ago, your Godfather can turn himself into a dog, you’ve killed a sixty foot basilisk, there are vampires, and creatures that can turn themselves into what you fear the very most. Literal dragons, unicorns, you go to school to learn magic and you think demons can’t possibly exist?”
Harry didn’t like that logic, not at all.
“Mhm, that’s what I thought. This sort of Inheritance is rare, it usually skips entire generations, you are the first in six centuries to get it. You must be something special, we all thought this line had died out.”
“Okay, so I’m a… demon?” Harry questioned, bringing his hands up to rub his temples.
Darcitheon shrugged, “Half or so, for now. More demon than mortal that’s for sure, if I have to guess you’ll be full demon by your seventeenth birthday.”
“Right, okay. And this happened to me, why?” He asked, trying to hide the hysteric lilt to his voice.
“Why, he asks,” Dracy mumbled, “Because it’s in your blood! It used to be a Peverell, then Potter’s birthright and look at you! You look so much healthier, if I do say so myself.”
“Merlin’s left nut!” Harry swore, “Why can’t I ever be normal?”
Clearing his throat to stop snickering at the creative swear, the blonde demon raised a sculpted brow at the teen, “Normal is dreadfully boring. Take it from the guy who used to be a squib, before he went to hell and learned how to live a little; you’ve never been normal and deep down you don’t want to be, let go of the self-loathing you’ve dragging around from your relatives abuse and learn to like yourself, kid.”
Harry scowled, feeling uncomfortably exposed. This was just his luck, his demon guide apparently had a thing for psychoanalysis.
“I’ll get right on that.” He snarked.
“Brill.”
There was a beat of silence, Dracy taking the time to light another cigarette with a flame he conjured in his palm and Harry just stared at him. Him, a demon. It seemed more fantastical than being told he was a wizard, it seemed so utterly remarkable and insane that it made perfect sense that it happened to him, he was a magnet for the absurd apparently.
“So… what does this mean? You’re going to guide me in demon-y things, wait let me guess there’s a class— Demon 101?”
With a chuckle Dracy replied, “I wish, but yes, in a sense. I’ve been put on the job to train you in your powers and teach you everything you need to know about being a demon and the place down under, and I’m not referring to Australia.”
“Okay… you’ve got a tail.” He blurted out, his eyes widening not having meant to say that.
“Yes, well,” Dracy laughed blowing out a plume of smoke, pointing at him with his cigarette and stated rather matter of fact, “You got one too, dude.”
Harry spun around with a strangled sound trying to catch sight of it, and to his horror it was ramrod straight like a startled cats. It was long, smooth and black with a heart shaped tip that was alight with green flames instead of spikes and violet flames like Darcy’s, but there was definitely a tail attached to his body and the more his alarm drained his tail relaxed and started to toss itself back and forth.
“Ah, we’ll have to teach you have to control it, no worries.”
“Bloody buggering f*ck.” Harry whispered, stumbling over to his rickety bed and flopping down heavily, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.
Now that he was aware of it, he couldn’t not be aware of his tail but try as he might he couldn’t grasp control of his new appendage. Removing his hands from his face and running his hands through his longer hair, silently marveling at its new softness, Harry asked, “So, what now then?”
“Right, first thing we ought to do is leave this hovel.” Darcitheon stood, putting out his cigarette next to the other on the desk.
“No objections from me, but how do I know that you won’t just kill me the second we leave? Why should I trust you?” Harry questioned rather suspiciously.
“Hm, good questions. I guess you’ll need to take a leap on faith, I’ve no way to prove I won’t hurt you and it’s quite known that you shouldn’t trust a demon. However, I would think that you’d want to be anywhere these… mortal’s, aren’t.” Darcy looked disgusted in the direction of the door where loud snores were heard, “If it’s any consolation though, don’t you think that if I wanted you dead you would already be so? You’ve no wand, no grasp in how to use your powers, no weapons, spotty accidental magic, even if you escaped no ward or defense could stop me from finding you.”
Well… the man had a point, and Harry was rather partial to leaving his relatives too. How would he ever explain his new look to the Dursley’s? Vernon would probably have an aneurism (which might not be so bad now that he thought about it) and Petunia was handy with a frying pan, and the wizarding world wasn’t too fond of half-breeds. He would need to learn about his powers and how to hide his more demon-y features if he had any hope of returning to school in September never mind meeting the Weasley’s to go to the World Cup.
“Where are we going to go… hell?”
Dracy snorted elegantly, which Harry frankly didn’t know was possible, “No. Somewhere safe and secure where you can freak out in peace. I have a lot of things to explain, and not a lot of time to get through it before the school year starts. So, I suggest you get your personal effects.”
Harry nodded, prying the loose floorboard open and stuffing his most precious things inside his empty school bag, specifically his invisiblity cloak, the Marauders Map, and photo album. He grabbed his wand and put went to put on his shoes only to stop, seeing as his shoes were no longer too big for him but too small. The demon smirked and snapped his fingers, and suddenly his ratty shoes turned into a new pair of trainers exactly his size, Harry murmured a ‘thanks’ and quickly pulled them on.
Seeing him ready, Darcy put a hand on his shoulder warning him to; “Bend your knees.”
Then, without a sound they disappeared in a tangle of black and purple smoke.
⚡️
“Where are we?” Harry asked after they’d appeared. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar only that they were standing in a dank alley, it had litter everywhere and mould crawling up the sides of buildings, everything seemed so weirdly wet that Harry got the suspicion that it always looked like that.
“Knockturn Alley.” Darcy chirped, paying no mind to Harry’s alarmed look, “It’s a great place to lay low— which is exactly what we’re going for. Now, come on you need to get changed.”
He suddenly realized he was still wearing Dudley’s old clothes.
“Best tuck in your tail, baby spawn.” The blonde demon added, pulling a cigarette out of thin air and lighting it with his own tail flames.
“Right— er, won’t it burn me?” Harry asked, his hand shooting out and grabbing ahold of his tail like he was strangling it as it tried to evade him, however it was not a match for his seeker reflexes.
Darcy snorted at the scene, flicking the ash off his cigarette, “Not likely, your own flame would never and could never hurt you. The flame is practically harmless unless you will it otherwise.”
Stumbling as he tried to tuck his wiggling tail into his pants, still not used to his new… well, everything. Harry knew he’d eventually have a freak out of epic proportions, but that can happen later preferably when he was alone. Still half hoping this was some weird dream, but even his luck was never that good.
“We need to go to Gringotts, but before that we need to check into our temporary digs.” Darcy said, gesturing to the building ahead that looked like a sketchier version of the Leaky without the pub portion, “The It’s a shabby spot, but no one will breathe a word if you pay them. You do have gold?”
“Some from last school year, yeah.”
“Brill, this place is cheap but that’s all apart of its charm.”
The place didn’t look very charming from where Harry was standing, that’s for sure. The building looked like a townhouse apartment building rather than an inn with grime and unfinished wood, the windows were filthy and difficult to see into which might’ve been the point, the name of the place “The Pit” was painted onto a swaying sign barely attached to the building.
Harry pulled the door open with some hesitation and discreetly brushed his hair to hide his scar out of habit, the inside of the inn was no better it was dim and smelt like mildew. There was a middle aged man behind a rickety looking desk, who did not even look up from his newpaper at the sound of the door creaking open and spoke with the boredom of somebody who hated their job, “5 galleons for a night, 10 sickles for a few hours.”
“One night will due.” Darcy told the teen, Harry was confused at the guys zero reaction to the blonde and repeated what he said, “One nights fine.”
The guy sighed, lowering his newpaper glaring at Harry and quirking a brow at his ill fitting attire, but didn’t comment and jabbed his finger at the opened scuffed up leather bound book on the desk, “Name, and money up front.”
“Ah, I forgot about that. You cannot be Harry Potter here, just fudge a name.” Once again, the guy behind the desk once again showed no reaction to Darcy’s comment.
Picking up the quill and hiding his curiosity, Harry quickly scribbled down “Helios Black” on the line underneath the other signatures. Then he dug around in his bag and pulled out the aforementioned amount, the man perked up and snatched some coin up, biting a few of the galleons with his yellow teeth greedily before practically throwing a key at Harry and waving his away up the stairs.
“Thanks.” Harry scoffed flatly, but moved up the stairs and when they made in out of hearing distance he asked in a whisper, “Could he not see you?”
Dracy smirked, “Nope. Only a demon can see other demons, I’m invisible to the mortals unless I don’t want to be. Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy, Helios.”
“That’s not my name.”
“I know,” The blonde rolls his violet eyes, “But Harry is such a pilebian muggle name I like Helios much better! And every demon does away with their mortal name at some point, and I think you just found your demon name.”
“Right,” Harry rolled his eyes, not opposed to forgetting Harry Potter existed but it was unlikely he’d be able to use Helios much.
Unlocking the door with the same room number as their keys, and having to knock his shoulder against it to force the door open since it stuck much like the front entrance had, inside was just as dim and dingy as the lobby with only a few candles floating around the walls crudely. There was just a single twin bed shoved in the corner by the small grimy window, a small trunk and the foot of the bed with an extra thin quilt folded on top, a small desk by the door that had a washbasin and pitcher on it, and a leaning wardrobe against the wall that had a questionable looking red stain on it.
“Cozy.” The teen commented drily, avoiding the bed and pulling out the wooden chair at the desk to sit in instead, inwardly hoping Darcy would have to sit on the dusty bed.
Darcy smirked as if he knew what Harry was thinking and snapped his fingers, conjuring a plush leather lounger out of thin air which he fell gracefully down on. A cigarette appearing in between his fingers, which he lit with his tail once again.
“Well what can you expect for five galleons, right?” He laughed, “Lets get you up to speed then, yes?”
“I… yeah, okay.”
