The Devil is Bad

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all property of J.K. Rowling.


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You know what they say, right? They say that the Devil is bad. But is he really? How much do we actually know about this Devil? Maybe he’s just misunderstood. Maybe no one’s ever taken the time to understand him.

Personally, I don’t think it’s true. If he was so bad, then why do people keep making deals with him? Why bother selling your soul when you know the buyer is a dirty dealer? It just doesn’t make sense to me.

I guess I’m not really one to talk. I’ve sold my soul to the Devil. I didn’t realize I’d done it either. It just kind of happened one day. It was one of those things you don’t notice until afterwards.

It was a sunny spring day and I had been trying to study for N.E.W.T’s with Ron and Hermione. We were outside under the big Beech tree that sits near the edge of the lake. We were pouring over books about Potions, books about Charms, books about Transfiguration, pretty much any book that they had in the Library, we had with us.

Hermione was drilling Ron and I about the correct way to move your wand for a Summoning Charm (something I’ve known how to do for years), when the Devil came. He was disguised, you see. I didn’t know it was him until much later.

He was mocking us and I thought it no different than always. Ron got mad, like usual, and tried to curse him. Supposedly, this was my first warning not to get involved with this person. He whipped out his wand so fast it was blurred. Before I had time to even realize what was happening, Ron was ten feet away and nursing a bruised ass and ego.

It actually surprised me. I knew this person was powerful, but I’d never seen the extent of it. Ron must have made him really upset. Either way, when I looked back from Ron, the Devil, as I found find out later, was staring at me.

I felt caught by his eyes for a moment. It was like I had been snared with a hook and was unable to get away. It was almost frightening. But then it was over, and he was gone.

Ron came back, cursing and grousing. He was not happy in the least and I understood. But something else told me I shouldn’t sympathize with Ron too much. Hermione just ignored it and continued studying.

That might have been the day I sold my soul, but I don’t think it was. I think that was the beginning of it all. I guess I should have seen it from the start. I mean, it’s obvious that he was the Devil; I just didn’t realize.

If the Devil is God’s brother, then shouldn’t he have some kind of leeway in Heaven? Maybe when I die I’ll be able to barter passage in. Somehow, I’m not sure it works that way. The Devil was kicked out for a reason, after all. God probably isn’t very happy with him…

Either way, I think I’m stuck in Hell for the rest of my life. Though, it’s not like it’s bad. In fact, I’m quite happy with how things turned out. It didn’t start out that way, though.

After that little incident at the tree, I kept meeting the Devil in odd places. It was like he was stalking me, probably waiting for the best opportunity to steal my soul. I must not have presented many opportunities because he rarely approached me.

He preferred to linger in the background and watch from afar. It wasn’t like I couldn’t tell he was there. I felt his presence, diminished as it was. But he always watched, never acted. I began to wonder if he had some kind of ulterior motive for watching me. At that time, I had no idea who he really was.

For the longest time, nothing happened. He stayed a few steps behind me always. I always wondered what he was doing but didn’t really want to know.

Throughout the rest of that year, it was like he was my shadow, waiting for me to slip up so he could swoop in and take his prize. Even Ron began to notice his constant presence, which is saying something.

How do I know he wasn’t after Ron or Hermione, you ask? Well, he would appear when they weren’t around, as well as when they were. It would happen more often when they weren’t though. I think he felt safer with just me. That’s how I knew it couldn’t be anyone else.

I never confronted him during school. I spent my last year glancing over my shoulder to see if he was there. By the end, I found that I was almost disappointed if I looked and he was gone. He had become like a friendly shadow, following me around. I missed him when he was gone.

Yes, I know, I shouldn’t miss the Devil. He’s an evil person, right? He lures people into his traps, manipulates and schemes his way to get what he wants. Why should I be missing that? If anything, I should be grateful that he wasn’t always there.

School ended not long after and I began training to become an Auror like I had always dreamed. Hermione went off and started her training to be a Healer. Ron, surprisingly, was drafted by the minor league Quidditch teams. He really improved in his last few years as a Keeper.

For a couple years, I caught no sight of the Devil. It was odd, not having him tracking me all the time. I guess it didn’t matter, though. I had other things following me around at that point. Mostly clingy boyfriends who just wanted to be with the Boy Who Lived. That and ex-Death Eaters who were convinced that killing me would bring back their beloved Lord.

It wasn’t until at least three years later that the Devil reappeared in my life. I still didn’t know who he was at the time, though I guess I should have known. I should have known since the first day I met him. I was too innocent then, though. I didn’t have that kind of belief in people at the time.

He waltzed right back into my life like he had never been gone. It was surreal. One day, I was perfectly well, searching and destroying Death Eaters for the Ministry, and next, there he was again, my little shadow.

Except this time, he wasn’t a shadow. He was prominently featured wherever I went. He was the same as I remembered in school, except that there was something different in the way he acted. It was like the three years had opened him up to new things. He wasn’t quite as snobbish as I recalled.

But he was still the Devil. He was evil, manipulative. Things always seemed to happen just the right way for him. No one ever questioned how it happened, it just did. I have to wonder why I never noticed it. It was so blatantly obvious.

But that’s the thing about the Devil. It’s obvious and yet, no one knows until the end. They think it’s just a lucky fortune that someone comes along and offers them everything they’ve ever wanted. Why question a good thing, right? Right. But when it comes to the end and it’s time to pay it back, they don’t get it.

I know the Devil has my soul. I’m not one of those naïve people who don’t understand. I knew when I sold it. I remember it perfectly clear. It was one of those moments when you realize that this is the best your life will ever be.

Well, the Devil came back into my life when I was twenty-one. I was pretty young. I had a long life to live, or I did now that Voldemort was gone. I thought my life was going pretty well. I had a good job, good friends; I didn’t need anything else.

But I must have been wrong because the Devil didn’t leave. He stayed around, like he knew it wasn’t over. He actually became quite a nuisance. Some days, I wanted to smack him in the face just because.

He would stand around the office inconspicuously and mock people. Of course, no one noticed, and those that did just laughed stupidly because they weren’t smart enough to realize he was talking about them.

He could have taken their souls. Why not? They were perfectly good souls. I didn’t quite understand why he was so fixated on me. Was it because I was the Boy Who Lived? Doomed to be famous beyond my years and forever ambushed by fans in the street?

I always shook off the fans, giving them fake smiles and signing a few bits of parchment. He saved me once. I was surrounded by a group of gaggling fans and was about to blast some heads off when he swooped in.

His tone was polite as he told them to leave, but there must have been something in his face that caused them to scatter. I didn’t see it, but I suppose it was the Devil showing through. I almost thanked him for that. It was the first “nice” thing he had ever done for me.

But something held me back. I guess it was that suspicion that not all was right. He didn’t seem to want a thank you, though. He had left me alone on the street and vanished into the crowd.

When the Devil wants something, he goes after it with a ruthless vengeance. He doesn’t let anyone or anything get in his way. He is a taker, not an asker. He takes what he wants and doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process. He learned this long ago. The best way to get what you want isn’t to ask, it’s to seize and never look back.

I had been his prize for years now. I was his object. He wanted me.

I probably should have run the first time I had any inkling of his desires. I shouldn’t have stuck around and waited for him to come down upon me. But I didn’t know he was the Devil! I thought he was the same person I had known for years who enjoyed teasing and taunting me.

Something he did about six months after his reappearance caught my attention. I was in the office, filling out paper work on a case for escaped Death Eaters. They had been escaping left and right the past few days.

The Devil showed up in my doorway, leaning casually against the frame like he really had no need or desire to be there. But there was something different. Something in his eyes.

The Devil has many devices for ensnaring his prisoners. Sometimes it’s blackmail, or guilt, or sometimes it’s fear, and, very rarely, it’s seduction. Any way he chooses, he always gets what he wants.

In my case, it was seduction. He was leaning against my door and staring at me through his piercing eyes. I didn’t mean to look at him, but once I had, I couldn’t stop. It was the same feeling I had gotten over three years ago when I had been in school.

I was stuck staring into his eyes and couldn’t look away. I hardly noticed when he came forward and leaned on my desk, lifting an elegant eyebrow.

What was said, I don’t recall. But I knew that was the moment. I sold my soul at that very moment and there was nothing I could do to get it back.

When someone sells a soul to the Devil, where does it go? Does it sink into a file cabinet millions of miles under the Earth’s crust to wait for the bearer to join it when it’s time? Or does it reside in your body until the Devil decides it’s time for him to get his repayment?

I still don’t understand why people say the Devil is bad. I suppose I haven’t gotten to the repayment part, but what I have seen of his work is truly amazing. He gave me things I hadn’t even imagined wanting.

All my troubles seemed to melt after I sold him my soul. The contract was signed and I was tossed into my dream world. I still don’t quite remember how it happened, but something must have. I couldn’t have given up my soul without a good promise of repayment.

And his repayment was generous. I was never lonely, never unloved. I had everything I had always wanted and so much more. How could he have known my deepest desires when I hadn’t even?

The Devil has so many tricks up his sleeves; it’s hard to know when you’re being tricked and when you’re not.

I believe I may have been tricked more times than I’ve known. But it doesn’t really matter. Anytime that I have, it’s been so wonderful that I don’t really care.

I don’t think the Devil is bad. I think he’s misunderstood and needs to be cared for. As I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling of my flat, I wonder how people can be so cruel to someone so misunderstood.

I turn over and look at Draco sleeping softly next to me. He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep, like an angel, but I know better.

I’ve sold my soul to the Devil and I know he will treasure it forever and I will let him do just that.


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A/N: Not my usual, but change is good :) Please Review!