Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
The steady ticking of the antique grandfather's clock echoed in the study, and it took an almost physical effort not to check the time. Harry put the finishing touches to his testament, set the quill aside, and stoppered the inkwell. The parchment crinkled in his hands as he rolled it up and tied it with a cord before depositing it in the top drawer. Then and only then did he allow himself to look at the clock.
The deadline neared.
He snatched a potion bottle from his desk, uncorked it, and downed it in three big gulps. Even so, he nearly gagged at the pungent taste, and hurriedly washed it down with a glass of conjured water. He stood and stretched gingerly, then went over his equipment, making sure his spare wands were strapped securely inside his dragonhide vest.
The clock began chiming, and he shivered, clenching his fists until his knuckles whitened. He found himself hoping against hope that nothing would happen—yet when the familiar melody petered out, he caught a whiff of sulfur. He mastered his fear through hard-won mental techniques.
There was a crackling noise, and he pivoted to see a portal open next to a warded glass case holding his mother's amulet. Its fluctuating edges spat sparks that singed the carpet, and in its middle, a lone figure was outlined against a blazing landscape. Harry grinned fiercely in recognition. One way or another, his seven years of dread would end soon.
Lilith stepped through and unfurled her wings as the portal squelched closed behind her. Violet eyes scanned the room before looking him over.
"Your kind change so fast, mortal," she said. "You're different now, and not in appearance alone. Such composure in the face of death... Have you accepted your fate?"
He inclined his head. "I've put my affairs in order. Let's get this over with." His voice was so calm it even surprised himself.
She snorted and sashayed toward him, her nails lengthening into sharp claws. "Listen to you, all full of yourself. On your knees, prey, as befits you."
The mark on his palm flared, and he sank to the floor. Deep in Occlumency-induced tranquility, he didn't make any noise of distress, and his muscles remained loose and relaxed.
He looked up at her. "Before you kill me, would you mind answering a question?"
She leaned in to put a single nail under his chin. "Go on."
"What is your true name? I doubt I'm important enough to rate a visit from the princess of the underworld herself."
Her nail tapped his forehead. "Sounds like you've done your research. In that case, you should know that our names grant mortals the power to summon us and worse."
"There's no one else inside the house, and I'm about to snuff it. Come on, I just want to know who to curse when my soul is tormented for all eternity, or whatever it is you demons do to amuse yourselves."
Her carefree laughter filled the study. "It's Fiamette. Feel free to blubber my name throughout your ordeals so everyone knows who bested you. Do you have anything else to ask me?"
He gave her a serene smile. "Not at all. Collect your payment, demon."
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes before they narrowed and she drew back her arm to strike. He exhaled, sinking deeper into his trance, his muscles coiling like a spring; to his unblinking eyes, her movements became sluggish.
"You've made me wait, mortal." Her voice seemed to be coming from far away. "But sooner or later, we always get our dues."
Her razor-sharp claws hurtled toward his neck, while Harry urged his body to move with his entire being. It was when the tips of her nails punctured his skin that his muscles finally responded, throwing him out of the harm's way in an ungainly leap. He rolled on the floor, coming to a stop a few yards away.
His heart hammered in his chest as time sped up again. Clutching his neck, he drew his wand and aimed an Episkey at the wound. It was fortunate that it wasn't too deep, since he couldn't perform the more complex healing spells nonverbally.
Fiamette stared at him. "The pact is dissolved. What did you do?"
He stood up, his gaze lingering on his blessedly unmarred palm before he wrenched it away. "I'm hardly an expert on magical contracts, but I expect it took offense at you trying to murder the one you were obligated to protect."
Her tail flicked side to side as she bared her fangs. "You anticipated this! Wretched creature with the lifespan of an insect, how dare you defy—" She took in his stance, her eyes narrowing at his wand. "Are you actually thinking of challenging me?"
He gave her a wan smile. "I'd rather not, to be honest. Don't suppose I could convince you to leave?"
"Not without your head." She raised her hand and licked a fleck of his blood off her nail. "Hmm. You've grown, little one. Let's see how long you can last against me." She unfastened her choker and used it to pull her hair into a ponytail.
Harry tensed as her grin grew more predatory. Spreading out her dark wings, she drew back her arm and hurled a bolt of black flame. His wand twitched, and a chair jumped to intercept the attack, burning to ash in an instant. Summoning more furniture, he banished it at his foe.
Fiamette laughed as she danced through the air with inhuman grace. Two chairs broke apart when they hit the bookshelves behind her, and she shattered the third with her bare fist. She crouched, then launched herself at him, only to be knocked backward by a heavy cabinet.
He used the opportunity to escape the study, sealing the door behind him, but even as he barreled down the corridor, the reinforced wood was smashed to kindling.