Harry Potter: Dungeons and Demons

Damien's body had gone cold, and his mind felt numb. In that fleeting moment of direct visual contact with the ungodly creature, he felt as if his soul were being torn through days of unspeakable torture and punishment. He was paralyzed, unable to move, trapped within the grasp of despair.

It wasn't until the creature's spine-chilling screech filled the air that Damien could break free from its oppressive horror. His legs felt like jelly, his heart was unsettled, and his thoughts raced with panic.

The trial had never been about escaping the school; it had always been about escaping this nightmare.

'N-No!' he screamed inside his head, desperately trying to compel his body to obey.

He knew what a Dementor was.

The soul-sucking, sadistic monster—pure negativity and depravity incarnate—whose only purpose for existence was to inflict pain and suffering.

And of all the challenges in the trial, this was the one where he felt the most powerless.

He didn't know a single spell or charm that could help him against this dark force. With the meager amount of magic he possessed, he knew there was no winning this battle.

'Move!' he screamed mentally, forcing his legs to respond.

At last, his body obeyed, and he pushed himself backward, his legs shaking with exhaustion as he scrambled for distance. He found enough strength to break free from his paralysis, barely able to keep his footing, but he was moving. His eyes quickly diverted, refusing to look directly at the creature any longer. He was smart enough to know better.

Summoning every last shred of courage, Damien pushed himself to his feet. He found the determination to run, clinging to the hope that he could escape the creature's grasp.

He sprinted away from the Dementor, ignoring the burning in his lungs and the weakness in his limbs. But deep down, he knew that running wasn't enough. He couldn't outrun a Dementor—not for long, anyway. His sanity would have already shattered if not for the calming effect of [Sage's Thoughts], which had freed his mind from the Dementor's horrific influence.

But the 200% increase [Sage's Thoughts] provided wasn't enough to keep his sanity intact forever.

It wouldn't save him forever. He needed to use the clarity granted by the magical skill to find a real solution.

'Think! Think! Think!' he screamed in his mind, not daring to look back, not even once. 'How do I escape this?'

He didn't know of any spells that could effectively deal with a Dementor. Nor did he have any magical artifacts that could protect him. The only certainty he had was that if a Dementor caught him, it would either drive him insane or take his life. It was a miracle that he had even survived this long, shielded by a rare skill that offered some resistance against the creature's corruption.

But he couldn't risk testing its limits. Not again.

He dashed through the Great Hall, his wand flashing as he cast spell after spell, hoping to buy himself enough time.

"Incendio Maxima!"

Flames erupted, engulfing tables and chairs in an inferno. He hoped the fire would slow the Dementor down, forcing it to change course. It worked, but only just. The Dementor recoiled, seemingly repelled by the heat, but it wasn't long before it found its way through the flames, screeching with fury.

Damien knew that the more he angered the creature, the worse it would be for him, but he had no choice. The Dementor was terrifyingly fast, and without obstacles in its path, he would never escape.

He used every trick he could think of, throwing chairs in the creature's path, leaping over staircases, anything to buy himself more time. But the more he ran, the more his body screamed with exhaustion. The Dementor was relentless.

"Aguamenti Maxima!"

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The spells either passed harmlessly through the Dementor or had no effect on it at all. 

"Stupefy!"

Nothing worked. No spell he knew could harm the Dementor, and each failed attempt drained him of precious energy.

He gritted his teeth, heart pounding in his chest, as he dashed through doors and into the library, hoping to lose the creature within its vast shelves. But it was useless. The Dementor could sense his fear, and no matter where he hid, it was drawn straight to him.

But Damien wasn't without advantages. He knew Hogwarts well, at least enough to navigate the maze-like hallways and shortcuts. While the Dementor could track him by his fear, he could use the school's layout to make quick, unpredictable exits, giving him a small edge.

The fear was still there, gnawing at him, but he was starting to grow accustomed to it. Slowly, but surely, he was adapting to the constant chase. And with the clarity provided by [Sage's Thoughts], his mind was no longer clouded by panic. 

As he sprinted through the library, he found himself in the boy's washroom. Desperation gripped him as he used the 'Aguamenti' spell to flood the room, hoping the water would provide some protection, while casting a bright 'Lumos' to push the creature back.

None of it worked. It was an empty comfort, a false sense of control. But at least he was doing something, anything.

He lied to his heart, telling it that he wasn't entirely helpless. But deep down, he knew the truth.

His mind raced, trying to find a way out. "The common room!" he thought, suddenly struck by an idea. "It's protected by charms!"

With renewed purpose, he made his way toward the common room, hoping against hope that the protective charms would keep the Dementor at bay.

Damien had witnessed the professors securing the place with an array of intricate charms. Even Flitwick and Dumbledore had worked together to turn the common room into a fortress, safeguarding it not only from unseen dangers but also from students attempting to get their hands on the test papers. This sense of invulnerability led Damien to the common room, where he confidently cast 'Alohomora' followed by 'Portaberto Maxima,' unlocking the door.

Normally, such a combination wouldn't work, as Hogwarts had a charm in place to prevent spells from opening doors. However, students and professors were exempt from this restriction, though using the spells would immediately alert the headmaster. For this reason, most students refrained from attempting it, knowing the risks involved.

But for now, it didn't matter. Damien quickly entered the room, closing the door behind him with a firm thud. He backed away, heart racing, his face a mixture of relief and anticipation. 

He waited. One minute. Two. Then four more passed. Still, nothing. No sound, no sign of the dementor.

Damien's hands trembled with the aftermath of what had just happened. "I nearly lost my life—and my sanity," he whispered to himself, collapsing into one of the chairs. He sighed in relief, grateful for the brief respite. "But at least I have time to think."

He needed to use this moment of calm to plan his escape. The common room had a Floo Network, but Damien had no access to Floo powder, leaving that option useless. He sat and began to mentally review his options, considering countless ways to flee.

'There has to be a way out,' he thought, but the cruel truth loomed. Time was running out.

Just as he was considering escaping through a window, a sinister, cold energy surged through the room, accompanied by a chilling breeze. 

"W-What...?"

His safe haven was shattered in an instant. The dementor, it seemed, could pass through the protective charms with ease. It phased through the door without effort, moving straight toward Damien. His body went into full flight mode, scrambling backward, his heart pounding in panic.

"N-No..."

He grabbed onto his book and wand, his mind racing in disbelief. Charms hadn't worked, or perhaps the protections in this replica of Hogwarts were weaker than he had assumed. Either way, he had no escape.

He gritted his teeth, running toward the tiny window in the room. It was his only chance. The dementor was too close to the door, but the windows in the school were supposedly unbreakable. With no other choice, Damien threw himself through it —miraculously breaking through that specific window, and being grazed by it. A sharp pain shooting through his side as he made the escape.

But even as he hurtled through the following Herbology classroom and rushed past Potions, Damien could feel his energy draining. The rooms were unprotected, no barrier against the creature in pursuit. He sprinted on, desperation pushing him through the labyrinthine halls.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stumbled into the girls' bathroom—a place that, in his exhausted state, felt like one of the worst possible hiding spots.

The room had only one entrance, no other exit. He'd never been in this bathroom before, so he didn't know its layout. The windows were sealed shut, locked, and unbreakable. He was trapped. The dementor's presence loomed, and he was forced to the washbasins, unable to move forward or back. His body trembled as panic took hold. This might be the end.

But as his hands searched desperately for any way out, his fingers brushed across something unusual. 

"H-Huh?"

He felt a strange pattern on the tap. In his frantic state, he barely registered what it was, but a quick glance revealed an intricate snake design. 'What is it? Could it be a clue?'

With no other choice, he twisted the knob in an unnatural direction. The movement, however accidental, triggered an unexpected response.

"What...?"

The floor beneath him began to shake, and the entire room seemed to tremble. A section of the wall, adorned with marble, slowly moved, revealing a hidden tunnel.

Damien didn't have time to think. He was being pursued by the dementor, and this tunnel was his only hope. Without hesitation, he lunged toward it, tumbling and falling down the narrow passage. His body scraped against the stone walls, bruising and cutting him as he rolled uncontrollably. He tried to shield his head, but the pain was inevitable.

The fall seemed endless, but then, just as the ground beneath him vanished, he collided with something solid, though not hard enough to cause serious harm.

"Ugh!"

His body ached, his vision blurred, and dust coated his face. Slowly, he managed to push himself up, only to find himself in darkness. It was different from the place he had just fled. This new location was cold, barely lit, and... unknown.

"Where is—?"

As he adjusted his eyes to the dim surroundings, Damien froze. It wasn't the dementor, nor any other creature he had encountered. 

Before him, sitting calmly, was a figure. Not a monster. A person. No—'a demon.'

The demon responsible for the trial. The 71st Demon, Dantalion—The Duke of Hell.

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