Title: Akuma
Author: Mistress Nika
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In a small town in Japan, the locals tell stories of a demon that haunts an abandoned shrine. Keiko, a young descendant of the shrine family who mysteriously vanished there, has no fear of the demon and goes every week to pay her respects to her lost relatives. However, this time she discovers something sinister. Or perhaps, not so sinister. A black-haired, green-eyed...demon?
Pairings: none
Warnings: AU, violence, DarkHarry, InhumanHarry, DeathEaterHarry
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Notes: The akuma is a creature of Japanese mythology representing evil. It is the personification of evil and darkness, much like the Christian Satan.

Translations for this chapter:
Kaasan - Mom
Chi - Blood (I think. It's been a while and my Japanese is rusty.)


Chapter Two:
Tear-filled brown eyes framed by bushy brown hair stared at him in horror and pity. "What have they done to you?"

"I'm still me. Please."

Red hair filled his vision as warm, gentle arms wrapped around him. "I'll always love you, Harry."

"You lied."

A fist slammed into his stomach in anger. "Monster! What have you done to my sister?"

"I didn't mean to."

Disappointed blue eyes sans their usual twinkle turned away from him in disgust. "It's for your own good."

"I hate you!"

Red eyes full of malice smiled at him in welcome. "I knew you'd return."

"I had no choice."
------
Midori worried about her daughter. She was only thirteen and so kind hearted. She could believe the best about anyone and melt even the coldest heart. She worried that, between their home and the shrine, she would get into trouble and she wouldn't be there to help. It was a silly fear. Theirs was a very safe neighborhood and plenty of people were on the streets, mostly children playing. Nothing could happen. Still, she worried.

Midori visited her families' shrine, what was left of it anyway, every month since her mother's death. She had married and moved out only a few months prior to the strange disappearance of her mother, brother, grandfather and two cousins. Afterwards, she had wanted to move back and take up residence there, but she and her new husband simply hadn't had the money. So, it had fallen into disrepair and lay abandoned.

Technically, it still belonged to her. She had planned to wait a few years until she was better settled and move in with her family, but by the time it was feasible, there was little left of the once noble shrine. It would take even more money now to fix it up and make it livable again. It seemed Hisano Jinja was destined to fade away. A pity really. It had been the home of so many generations.

The rustle of feathers caused her to look up sharply. A regal looking owl sat on her window sill, peering at her with it's large eyes.

With a sigh, she removed the letter it carried and it flew off into the night. Not even bothering to open it, she tossed it into the trash. When would they just leave them alone? Was it too much to ask to live a normal life?

Apparently so, because Tanaka Midori had a secret.

Her mother had been a witch. The first in their family...but not the last.

She herself was completely non-magical, but her precious Keiko was a different story. On her tenth birthday, she had received a letter accepting her into the premier institute of magical learning in Japan. She had refused to let her daughter see and promptly burnt it.

Magic had gotten her mother killed. She wasn't stupid. There was a war going on in the magical world. That idiot from England who hated anyone with impure blood, anyone like her mother and her daughter.

No, Keiko would never enter the magical world and perhaps that would keep her safe. However, Midori couldn't keep her daughter from what she knew resided in the shrine. It had always been a focal point of magic in the region, even before her mother came along. It called to her daughter and she knew instinctively that it was safe for her there.

Each week she came home with a new story about something "magical" that had happened. Several times she had tried to smuggle a puffskein into the house in a pocket or bag. A couple times she had even succeeded, only to be caught a few days later playing with it. Once, she had even brought home that kneazel she'd found, but Midori had forbidden her to keep it and made her take it back.

This time, however, as Keiko came bounding into the house, she became very concerned. "Akuma" was the word from of her child's mouth. "Death Eater" was the translation her mind made.
------
"Kaasan!" she cried while giving her mother a hug. "Guess what I found at the shrine today?"

"Akai eating a dead rat?" she asked playfully.

"Ewww!" the girl cried, scrunching up her nose. "No! An akuma!"

The woman's eyes widened and she asked cautiously, "Are you sure? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she replied, "but he wasn't. He was bleeding and his clothes were all torn. They were really strange. All black, so dark I couldn't tell where his cloak began and his clothes ended."

"Was there a white mask?" Midori asked almost frantically. "Was he wearing a mask, or holding a wand? Did he say anything to you?"

The girl frowned at her mother's strange behavior, but answered, "No. No mask. No wand. He did say something, but it was in a foreign language."

"Did it sound anything like this?" she asked and then repeated the phrase in English.

She nodded hesitantly. "Sort of, but it was a little different." Seeing her mother close to panicking, she hurried to reassure her. "He didn't threaten me or hurt me. Well, I mean, he growled at me and slapped my hand when I tried to touch him, but I think he felt bad about it. I'm just glad his claws didn't scratch me. That looked like it would have been painful."

Midori blinked. "Claws? He had claws?" When her daughter nodded, her brain began working overtime, going over all the knowledge she had gained from her mother's old schoolbooks. An injured man with claws who growled... Probably not a Death Eater then. If so, it was an unusual one. Likely some kind of magical creature. A Veela? No, those were female. A werewolf then. Or maybe a vampire.

"Keiko, I want you to stay in the house," she ordered quickly. "If I'm not back when your father gets home, tell him I'm shopping. If I'm still not back an hour later, tell him to wait until morning and then come to the shrine, and to bring his gun."
------
Midori entered the shrine carrying a first aid kit, her silver hair pin and a very large frying pan. She planned to put at least one of them to use.

If it was some poor werewolf suffering from a bad full moon, the last having been two days ago, she hoped her meager medical skills would be of some help. If it were a dangerous werewolf or a vampire, the hair pin would likely give them silver poisoning. If it were a Death Eater, she could wallop him over the head and hope for the best.

Upon entering what her daughter had termed the tree room, her eyes immediately went to the dark figure leaning against the far wall.

He looked a mess and she couldn't even see him properly yet.

"Why can't you people leave me alone?" came a rough drawl from the man she had thought was unconscious.

"Are you ... have hurts?" she asked in staggered English.

Luminous green eyes raised to meet hers in shock. "You speak English," he murmured in disbelief. He let out a weary laugh and she felt herself relax slightly. "Bad English, but English nonetheless." He shook his head and chuckled a bit more.

She did not like having her English insulted, as she thought she was pretty damn good at it, but coming from a native speaker, she had to concede it probably wasn't perfect.

He didn't really seem all that dangerous. Sure, he didn't look human, but that didn't mean he was evil. He had yet to make a threatening move and even his words didn't convey a sense of danger. Maybe it was just the fact that her daughter didn't speak his language that had put him on guard. After all, not being able to communicate with someone when you're injured can be disconcerting.

Holding up the first aid kit, and setting the frying pan aside, she asked, "May I go close? To help?"

He stared at her for a minute, his inhumanly bright eyes sparkling with contained mirth, before speaking softly. "I'm fine. Thank you though."

Her brow furrowed as she glanced between the large blood stain and him pointedly. His warm smile was disarming, but if he was injured enough to cause that, his good humour had to be an act.

"Chi," she stated simply, pointing at the stain.

He blinked a bit. "Blood? Yeah, but I'm all better now. See?" He moved his cloak aside and lifted his shirt to show his pale, unmarred torso. She assumed that's where he'd been injured. "Just tired now. If this is you nice people's home, I'm very sorry for intruding and I'll be moving on in a couple days. As soon as I recover a bit more of my energy."

"This is ... old family home," she stated. "No one live here now. We live away. Down street."

"Ah," he answered simply, shifting his cloak tighter around him. He looked cold, almost freezing, despite the fact that it was quite warm.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she put her hands on her hips. "You hurt. You stay. I help."

"I don't need help," he insisted, his smile being replaced by a cruel sneer as his eyes flashed with anger. He made an attempt to rise from his leaning position in what might have been an attempt to threaten her, and promptly fell over onto his face.

She couldn't help it. She burst into hysterical laughter at his plight. He glared at her, but his smushed in face was less than intimidating. Finally, after much struggling and cursing, he managed to pull himself back up into a siting position.

"You could have helped me up," he growled in annoyance.

"Not-" she snickered again. "Not need help."

He growled a few more choice words under his breath as she fought to regain her composure. Taking a deep breath, she calmed down enough to ask, "What you?" At his uncomprehending stare, she clarified. "You have claws, pale skin, strange eyes. Fangs," she added after remembering seeing them flash as he laughed. "Werewolf, vampire..?"

"I'm a wizard," he stated blandly. "A little odd, but still a wizard."

"Ah."

"I take it the little girl was your daughter?" he asked curiously.

Midori nodded. "Keiko. Tanaka Keiko. I am Tanaka Midori," she added with a bow. "You?"

"Um, Harry. Just Harry. I'd bow, but, well ... I don't wanna do the same trick twice."

She had to stifle laughter at the thought of him face-planting for the second time while attempting a bow.

"So, I'm guessing from your knowledge of magical creatures and casual acceptance of my being a wizard that you're daughter is muggleborn witch?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But Keiko does not know. Okaasan was witch too. First in family. Not me though." Eyeing him for a moment, she asked, "Hari-san is sure he does not need anything?"

"Not unless you've got a glass of water in that kit," he responded with a smirk. "Maybe a pepper-up potion or two," he added in a quiet murmur, obviously not directing the comment at her.

"No," she replied with a smile. "You rest. I bring water."
------
Harry's sleep was fitful and plagued by dreams. One after another, the memories assaulted him in his unprotected state.

The stone slab bit into his naked body and his wrists and ankles were raw from his struggles against the chains. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had formed a circle around him, chanting in a horrible, guttural language that made the very air quiver with evil.

"What are you doing?" he had asked, only to get a silencing glare from the Dark Lord before as he continued the malevolent chanting.

A dark cloud gathered over the alter he lay on, black lightning and fire roiling in it's depths. He renewed his struggles with a frantic fervor.

A knife cut a thin line across his chest, spilling his blood. The creature within the cloud laughed, dark and sinister. Then there was pain. Blinding pain as the cloud engulfed him. His vision changed, tinting everything in shades of red, and suddenly he could understand Voldemort's words.

"Give me your power. Become my servant. Take this flesh as your own. Great Demon of the Underworld, arise and come forth. Be born of this sacrifice. Serve me for all eternity."

A red hot fire lanced through his body followed by an indescribable anger, full of destructive fury. No, he would serve no one! The Dark One sought to trick him! Using the wish spell to summon him and then binding him to this human flesh. Unforgivable transgression! NEVER!

With a great scream of rage, the creature tore itself free of Harry's mortal body, leaving behind a forever altered young wizard.

A localized explosion shook the room, knocking everyone off their feet and ending the ritual. The dark cloud vanished and Harry suddenly found himself free.

He sat up and looked around in confusion. He felt no fear, no pain, nothing he associated with being proper emotions for one who is at the mercy of Voldemort. Instead, he felt only a detached curiosity.

The Dark Lord was positively beaming. He smiled his twisted smile, opened his arms wide and said, "Come to me, my demon servant."

Harry merely glared at him. "Playing with forces outside your control, Tom?" he asked, enjoying the startled look he got in reply. "Whatever that was, he wasn't too happy with you. You shouldn't double cross extradiminsional creatures. They don't play nice."

"Potter." Voldemort growled in dismay.

"The one and only." Harry replied, swinging his legs over the edge and standing up. Vaguely, he noticed that all his wounds were healed, but he couldn't be bothered by such trivial things at this time.

There was something he had to do. Something the demon creature had instructed him to do before it left.

He bared a double set of glistening elongated fangs, flexed his black clawed fingers and gave an inhuman growl followed by a deep rumbling laugh similar to that of the demon's.

The Death Eaters all took a step away and began looking around in panic. Even Voldemort looked taken aback and slightly nervous.

He leapt up onto the alter, unmindful of his naked state. Black leathery wings flared around him and a pair of spiraled black horns grew from his head.

"Give them Hell," it had said.

He intended too.

He came awake with a shout, huddling back further into his dark corner and shaking slightly.

He remembered well the bloodbath that had followed. He had maimed, he had killed and he had enjoyed it. He didn't even know at the time that anything was wrong with him. He just felt the desire to hurt, to destroy, to bathe in the blood of his enemy. The Death Eaters had been too frightened to even pull their wands until he was bearing down on them. By then, it had been too late. His only consolation was the fact that he had killed Wormtail that night. In his almost trance-like attack, he had ripped the cowering man limb from limb before tearing out his throat in a shower of blood.

It was Voldemort himself who had finally driven him off, throwing curse after curse at him.

He had arrived at Hogwarts in his still transformed state and covered from head to toe in blood and gore. They hadn't even recognized him at first and nearly killed him before he begged Dumbledore to help him.

They had tried for days, weeks, months to find a cure.

There was none.

There had never been a case like Harry before. He was, for all intents and purposes, a demon. Yet, still he retained his status as a wizard as well. There was no half and half, only two in one.

As he drifted in and out of sleep, he thought of his friends reactions when they learned of what had happened.

Hermione had been heartbroken to see her friend, almost brother, in such a way. By then, he had managed to retract his wings and horns and make his fangs and claws less noticeable. Still, she was horrified. The pity and sorrow in her eyes had angered him. Sure, his body was different, but he was still Harry Potter.

Ron was more than nervous around him. He would jump every time Harry spoke and shy away from him. He caught snippets of whispered conversations between his two best friends. After hearing of what he had done, neither trusted him. They feared him and what he could do. He wanted reassure them, to tell them he would never hurt them, but he was unsure himself if that were true. They spoke of his slaughter of the Death Eaters in horrified voices, and yet, he still felt no remorse. He had enjoyed it and the memory still brought a smile to his face. They had deserved it, after all, for trying to harm him.

Neville seemed a little uncertain, but generally accepting.

Luna acted as if nothing were different. The first thing she had asked him upon his return to school was how his summer had been and if he'd seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, because they had all eluded her. When someone pointed out Harry's changes to her, she had simply shrugged and replied that it could happen to anyone if you didn't clean out Brack Bug infestations right away.

Molly Weasley alternated between suffocating him with tearful hugs and warily avoiding him, as if unsure what to make of him.

Remus had been the only one to be relatively calm and accepting. He told him how he had to deal with a demon inside him all the time. The wolf could be just as violent and unrepentant as Harry's demon seemed to be. He helped him with techniques to control his anger and whenever he would lose control, Remus would talk to him. He understood him. He helped him.

The rest of the Order were of varying opinions, but were unanimous in that they didn't want him around. They insisted he either be kept at Hogwarts in a secure location, or that they no longer had meetings at Grimmauld Place. He couldn't be trusted.

Snape only seemed amused. He hadn't been present at the slaughter and found the way the Order was slowly turning from their savior for something beyond his control to be humorous. He had even spoken civilly to him a few times, leaving Harry feeling dumbfounded and wondering what Snape was up to.

The only ones who seemed happy with Harry's changes had been the Weasley Twins. Fred and George had hounded him for details, body bits for potions and to test new jokes on him. It got a bit annoying really, but he took it with a smile. After all, they were at least talking to him.

Dear sweet Ginny had been one of the few not to turn from him. The girl he saw as his little sister declared that she would always love him no matter what he became or did. She stuck by him for the toughest three and a half months of his life, and he had...

He was brought out of his musings by the creaking of a floorboard as someone stepped on it.

He hadn't sensed them approach and they had no magic.

"Why can't you people leave me alone?" he asked without raising his head, certain that he would not be understood and not feeling up to fighting with language barriers right now.

He was startled when a female voice said hesitantly, "Are you ... have hurts?"

Looking up he saw a woman with the same dark eyes, black hair and asian features of the little girl. She wore a grey muggle women's suit and her hair was neatly pinned up. In one hand she carried a white medical kit and in the other, a frying pan. Prepared for anything apparently.

"You speak English," he murmured, then let out a weary laugh. "Bad English, but English nonetheless." He shook his head and chuckled a bit more in amusement.

She studied him intently and he felt some of the weariness leaving him. He might not be able to cast a spell yet, but he could move again without nearly passing out. At least, he thought he could. Better not to test it just yet though.

The woman held up the kit and tried to set the frying pan aside casually. "May I go close? To help?" she asked in her halting English.

He stared at her in amusement, before speaking softly to try to put her at ease. After all, it's not everyday you encounter a creature such as him. "I'm fine. Thank you though."

Her brow furrowed as she glanced between the large blood stain and him pointedly. Clearly she thought him still injured.

"Chi," she stated simply, pointing at the stain.

He blinked in honest confusion. He did not speak Japanese. "Blood?" he guessed after a minute. "Yeah, but I'm all better now. See?" Moving his tattered cloak aside, he lifted his shirt to show his pale, unmarred flesh where had once been a seeping mass of curse wounds. "Just tired now." Deciding he'd better be polite to the woman who could end his life with a well placed owl, or even a phone call to the local authorities, he said, "If this is you nice people's home, I'm very sorry for intruding and I'll be moving on in a couple days. As soon as I recover a bit more of my energy."

The woman shook her head. "This is ... old family home," she stated. "No one live here now. We live away. Down street."

"Ah," he answered simply, pulling his cloak tighter around him. He was freezing and no amount of covers would be able to warm him until his magic replenished itself enough to do more than sustain vital functions.

The woman heaved a frustrated sigh startlingly reminiscent of Molly Weasley and put her hands on her hips. "You hurt. You stay. I help."

"I'll help you, Harry," said the man in the fuchsia robes. "Trust me."

"I don't need help," he growled in irrational anger. He knew he shouldn't take it out on this innocent muggle woman, but the hate he felt for those who had betrayed him still rolled just beneath the surface. That was what made him so effective in battle.

He tried to struggle to his feet, to show that he was strong and didn't need help, but his limbs gave way and he fell to the floor in an undignified heap. He glared as the woman laughed at him. She certainly was a brave one.

After using his protesting arms to push himself into a sitting position, he growled at her in annoyance. "You could have helped me up."

"Not need help," she replied through giggles.

He glared at her some more while mumbling about barmy muggle women.

After getting herself under some semblance of control, she asked, "What you?"

He just stared at her blankly. How to answer that?

Misinterpreting his silence as not understanding, she continued, "You have claws, pale skin, strange eyes. Fangs. Werewolf, vampire..?"

Ah. A squib then, or the mother of that muggleborn girl. He guessed that one who was not an active part of the wizarding world may not have any idea of who or what he was, but would know enough to make a guess. Many magical creatures had those particular features, the most common of which were werewolves and vampires.

"I'm a wizard," he answered simply. "A little odd, but still a wizard." A little more than a wizard, but still a wizard. She didn't need to know that.

"Ah," was all she said. Still, she didn't seem eager to leave.

For lack of anything else to say, he asked, "I take it the little girl was your daughter?"

The woman nodded. "Keiko," she answered. "Tanaka Keiko. I am Tanaka Midori," she added with a bow. "You?"

"Um, Harry," he replied. It would not be good to give his full name, not even to a muggle. "Just Harry." Feeling a bit cheeky, he added, "I'd bow, but, well ... I don't wanna do the same trick twice."

The woman stifled laughter at the that and he continued with a question that could give him some of the information he needed.

"So, I'm guessing from your knowledge of magical creatures and casual acceptance of my being a wizard that you're daughter is muggleborn witch?" If she were, maybe he could continue to hide here.

"Yes," she nodded. "But Keiko does not know. Okaasan was witch too. First in family. Not me though."

Thank Merlin for that. She obviously didn't know much about current events in the magical world.

She eyed him up and down, taking stock of his physical condition, before asking, "Hari-san is sure he does not need anything?"

Ignoring the strange pronunciation of his name and the added suffix, he replied, "Not unless you've got a glass of water in that kit." He was still thirsty. "Maybe a pepper-up potion or two," he added quietly, thinking that they would restore enough energy for him to make it home where he could recover in complete safety.

"No," she replied with a smile and a small shake of her head. "You rest. I bring water."

Before he could speak, she had picked up the dropped frying pan and disappeared out the door.

What was it with these women? Were all Japanese women so trusting, or was this family just insane?


A/N - If you like Akuma, go read my other HP fic, Curse of Fate.