'The flesh of a manticores heals wounds,' said the head demon. 'Its blood, when drunk, can revive those near death. When a human is drenched in it, as your friend here was, it imparts the special property of being able to survive one mortal blow. One mortal blow,' said the demon, again. 'It does not grant immortality. Only a very few kinds of magic do that.'
'So I?m not immortal,' said Harry slowly, as if the words were just beginning to sink in.
'Far from it,' said the demon. 'You are an ordinary mortal child.
Well, there are a few things about you that stand out. That scar which connects you to the Dark Realms is very interesting and if we had more time I?d love to have a look at it, but we don?t. Maybe we will have time later. No, little Harry Potter, you are mortal, and if stabbed again, you will bleed, and you will die, as the Snake Lord knows this. This euphoria you are feeling will soon lift. It is a side effect of the manticores healing power, working in you.'
'But the manticore is an evil creature,' said Draco, still feeling dazed. 'How can its blood heal?'
'The manticore is only an animal,' said the demon, and there was a sharpness in its voice. 'It is only a living being. Evil and good are the words you humans use to put a name to a purpose. But an animal is just an animal, a tool just a tool, a sword just a sword. It is the use you make of it that determines its nature. It could be said that that manticore saved the life of your friend with its own dying blood, and how did you pay it for that? With steel and poison.'
'It would have killed us,' said Draco faintly, although in his ears he heard the voice of the manticore as it died, Why do you slay me, Master? It was you who made me what I am.
'Probably,' agreed the demon. 'That was the purpose it was set to.
To protect the Orb in its body. Because with the Orb removed, the Snake Lord once again has access to his powers. If you had died, instead of the manticore, the Orb would not now be in his possession. In a way, it could be said that you delivered it to him.'
Draco felt that this was twisting things quite a bit. Then again, nobody ever said demons played fair. 'I don?t understand why the sword called you here,' he said irritably.
'Slytherin blood,' said the demon, and looked pointedly at the sword, still scarlet to the hilt. 'We were to be paid in the blood of a Magid of Slytherin descent, if not Slytherin himself. The sword alerted us it had taken the life of such a one. But it was wrong,' the demon added, turning a gas-blue glare onto the very much alive Harry. 'You ?re alive.'
'I certainly am,' said Harry cheerfully. 'You know, you look a lot like the demon that attacked me in my Draco's bedroom not long ago. Is he one of you? Small, rather striking fellow with no ears?'
'You mean Strygalldwir,' said the demon, looking unamused. 'He is not among us. He was sent to warn you of Slytherins design on you but, alas, was unsuccessful.'
Draco went cold all over. 'So, what, you?re here to finish the job?'
he demanded.
'Not exactly,' said the demon. 'We could take the life of the Gryffindor heir, certainly. But the exchange loses much of its power if the life is not offered freely. In that context, I?d like to offer you a bargain.'
'A bargain? Thats funny,' Draco said, half under his breath.
Harry spoke in his head, sounding chipper. Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?
Shut up, Potter, or I swear I?ll beat you like a bongo drum.
Harry sounded sulky. Lighten up, Malfoy.
Draco decided against lecturing Harry on the inappropriateness of lightening up when faced with demons demanding a blood sacrifice.
It was quite novel being forced to be the serious one while Harry giggled his way through peril. Novel, but then again having his leg sawed off at the knee would also have been novel. He desperately wanted the old Harry back, as a calming influence. This Harry was about as calming as a small parrot that had just consumed a half pound tin of coffee beans.
Dracos mind darted about, seeking possible avenues of escape. He knew from his father that it was a very bad idea to make bargains with demons, or bargains with anyone. In fact Malfoys don?t bargain was one of the Malfoy family rules, ever since one of his ancestors back in 1630 had sold his soul to the devil in exchange for being made Chief Warlock, with unforeseen consequences. And wasn?t that how his father had died? Torn to pieces by a demon-Banishing spell gone wrong; he?d seen it in the Prophet.
Come on, Malfoy. Harry again. Its better to live one hour as a tiger than a whole lifetime as a worm. Thats an old Gryffindor saying.
Oh yeah? Well theres an old Malfoy saying, too. It goes 'Who ever heard of a wormskin rug'?
Do something, said Harry, sounding determined. Or I will.
Draco took a look at Harry, blood-splattered and fiercely determined, his green eyes burning like suns. This was the Harry that had faced down Voldemort in a duel, the Harry that had killed a basilisk with a sword when he was twelve years old, the Harry who always won at Quidditch because he was just that little bit less afraid. Only that Harry faced danger because he had to; this Harry seemed…to want to.
Draco turned back to the demons. 'What kind of bargain?'
The demon explained the original bargain between the forces of Hell and the Snake Lord. The explanation involved a certain amount of conjuring of ancient contracts with print so small that Draco imagined ants would have had a hard time reading the text. The demonic signature on the bottom was enflamed, and next to it was Slytherin's own black seal, the same skull with the serpent coming from its mouth that Draco could feel on his own left arm.
'See, here it says clearly that if we have to make more than two trips to collect the sword, further penalties will accrue,' the demon noted as Draco tried to read some of the clauses. 'Then, there are interest payments, terms of use, a very specific privacy clause which has prevented us from publicizing the terms of the agreement in the Daily Prophet, and do you see this?'
Draco squinted at the text. 'The warranty disclaimer? Why would anyone sign a bargain with Hell without even a guarantee that what they were bargaining for wasn't going to break the first time he used it?'
