Henrick Hanz and the Demon of Durmstrang

Chapter 10

A few mornings after that confrontation he’d witnessed, Fiona was not down to greet him in the morning as usual. He thought nothing of it. It mattered little to him if she changed her schedule some. Of course, it would be the first time in five years that such a change had occurred, but he’d not complain. Perhaps she’d finally decided to go after her man/ Good for her then. However, that did not explain the look of absolute hate upon Burkov’s hollow face when he passed by that morning. Either the idiot had realized Henrick had ruined his sport with Ness. That or he was being accused of something else equally noteworthy.

His breakfast was interrupted again and again by boys invading his pace. His shoulder was starting to hurt a little from all the sudden strikes to it. Each “atta boy” and “way to go” just confused the German more. The girls seemed to look at him a bit differently as well. He was used to being stared at because of his size but this felt different. It seemed to him like the girls wanted to eat him or something. A chorus of “how was she?” and strange comments about farm work and plowing Fiona’s fields left him even more nonplused. He was sure that Fiona lived in Paris. She did not own a farm. He certainly didn’t own a monster sized plow.

It was right after Dark Arts that he finally got sick of it. Another boy went to thump him on the back. Henrick turned. Normally, he was very careful about with how he used his strength. He found himself lifting the boy off the ground by his shirt. He needed only one hand to slam the boy against the wall. He pretended not to hear the mortar on the wall behind the boy crack. “Vhat zhe HELL is everyone talking about?” He demanded, lifting the boy higher. He pretended not to notice that the boy’s feet were dangling about two feet from the floor. “Tell me, or I’ll drop you off zhe castle roof.”

He might have just carried the boy up to the roof and dropped him on principle when the other told him what was indeed going on. “Last night, someone say you and Fiona meeting. You took her out to where the challenge course was. Since she wasn’t in any classes today, we all figured that you’d finally made your move. She’s wanted you to screw her forever. You finally did it and she was probably still resting after how huge you are in that department.”

Hanz did drop the boy, but not over anything high. He ignored the sound of the other male hitting the floor. So, that was what this was about. Everyone thought that he and Fiona had… Well that was ridiculous. She liked someone else, and he obviously didn’t care about her in one way or another. As far as he was concerned, they were acquaintances of conveniences and nothing more. He wasn’t about to sleep with her, or with any other girl. And if he had to, it wouldn’t be with one he really didn’t like al that much. Even if he did finally find someone he liked that way, it would take him time to build up to that point. But with all his secrets and his standoffish ways, as well as that ancient Faustian curse, the German doubted he’d ever fall in love.

He left the boy right where he was. If Fiona was missing, he had a feeling he knew where he’s find her. If someone looking like him had taken her to the challenge area, then she’d probably still be there. There, or in the infirmary already.

His rapid steps took him quickly out of the castle and towards the back gate. The gate led into the deep forest. The gate was supposed to be locked. Previous rumors held that it had been opened. Fiona had suspected him. He had never put that much stock in those rumors until now. He took it very personally now that there was an imposter at the school ruining his reputation.

He approached the gate but was stopped by a teacher. He could see two witches wrapping Fiona’s body up. They would levitate her back to the hospital wing to join the others. Though she was in the same state as all the others, she seemed almost happy about tit. He tried to approach, bit he was rebuffed by a strange ward. Standing there, he tried to get the charm teacher’s attention. His voice was certainly loud enough, even if he didn’t feel the worry it carried.

“Zhat is my friend. Vhy can’t I go to her? I vant to see her!” He made such a commotion that the professor was forced to come to him. She towered over him, somehow, aided by massive high heals.

“Mr. Hanz, this gate is off limits. So many students have come here and ended up like that. The Headmaster had agreed to allow us to ward the entire area until he returns. Until I take them down, no person can cross over the barrier.” The tall woman seemed a little bothered by the fact that something had managed to break the barrier already. “So, Mr. Hanz, please return to the castle. Your friend will be fine. She’s probably just collapsed from lack of sleep.”

He knew it was a lie. He didn’t call her on it. Instead he turned from the gate. Right before his back was turned to it, ht thought he’d seen something moving through the trees. It was the self-same shadow he’d thought he’d seen in the library on that night of the storms so long ago. From afar, it almost appeared to be a large gargoyle. However, when he turned back around, it had vanished. Now though, he had seen it. Without Fiona around he could certainly get some studying done. Whatever it was, he was going to find it. He was going to find it and make it pay for running his reputation.

Once more, he found himself headed towards the library. Once there, he took no books. Instead, he mentally started to reconstruct the scene of chaos he had come upon. The candles, the melted ankh, the books. How the shelves were moved and tilted. It all meant something. So did the books still missing from the library. He knew forbidden books were not to be removed from the library, yet he could see an empty space there. He could get back to see which one it might be. Instead, he went to the one book he had never ever touched, if only on principle.

Being a school reputed for Dark Magic and Dark Wizards, there was quite an assortment of distasteful literature. That book wasn’t so horrible; it was who had supposedly written it that was his problem. He liked to keep it a secret, just like all his other dark secrets. He didn’t want to be associated with his mother’s ancestor. Being a Hanz was bad enough. Being Faust was worse. It would be his first time touching any book penned by the hand of Johan Faust. Even before he opened it to the first page, he vowed to never touch one again. What followed was a rambling narrative about a black poodle and a being called “M” in some places and “Mephistopheles” in others.

He flipped though the pages randomly until he happened upon an image of a circle rather similar to the one he remembered. He quickly slammed the book closed and stood. It all made sense now. He supposedly got it. It was so obvious and yet the realization was frightened him. It was indeed a terrifying realization he had come to. There was something lose in Durmstrang not from the pale of existence.

Who, he wondered, would be so desperate to attempt such an act? And why did the school even have the means available to do so? Though it pained his ego, he almost doubted he’d be able to do anything at all about this. Unless he found the entity and survived it long enough to learn of it’s contract, he knew he was in way over his head. There was just no way he could take on something like this. He doubted the teachers could. He’d rather face down He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named unarmed and half naked than face down a demon. Sadly, he knew there was very little chance. Even if the professors did know, or even remotely suspected, he knew they would do nothing. They would wait until Krakov came back to the school with Durmstrang’s finest. They would sit on their hands, even if he told them what he suspected. They’d wait and more students would end up in the hospital wing minus their souls. The very thing his not so illustrious ancestor had at one time accredited magic to.

He couldn’t do it, but he was the only one who could do anything about it. It was a lot of pressure. He was no hero. He was not a knight in the stories like the Grimms told. He certainly wasn’t a prince. He was no demon slayer. He wished desperately that he’s not connected the dots. He’s rather had stayed ignorant to what he was facing. But he couldn’t go back in time. He could only do what he had always done. Go forward. This meant he had to figure out how to get past that ward the Charms Professor had erected.