A demon is a supernatural entity, typically associated with evil. In Christian demonology, there are several types, souls of the dead who had been wicked, and fallen angels, who were Satan's allies and cast out of heaven.

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a m o r a

It was my tenth birthday when my father announced to my mother and I that he had to leave again.

I remember it, clear as day. It was a windy August morning. I sat in the kitchen, the smell of eggs and bacon was overpowering as they sizzled on the stove. We had house elves to cook and clean, but breakfast was the one meal my mother always insisted on making for me.

He came in, a large bag slung over his shoulder. He also already had his coat and boots on. It's time, he said just as my mother was sliding the eggs onto my plate. She had been confused.

What? I thought you weren't to leave for at least another month!

He shook his head. He calls us now, Ruby.

Where are you going, daddy?

Never you mind, love, he ruffled my hair. I grumbled, because I had taken extra care to comb my hair in such a manner that the waves lay perfectly over my shoulders.

My mother saw him to the door. Must you really go? You've only just come back last year. You've barely gotten to know your daughter.

I'm doing this for us, Ruby.

We've been loyal to him for ages. When has he ever followed through on his promises?

I told you, he has a plan. When he wins, we'll be selected to be part of his official council. Don't you want a better life for Amora?

We already have everything we need, Evan. A daughter, and a house large enough to fit five more.

I didn't hear the rest. It was not important to me at the time, I was too young to understand. I scarfed my breakfast down. By the time I was done, he'd gone.

We barely heard from him since then. He sent letters to my mother, never to me. She let me read them sometimes. They were always superficial, telling us that he was doing well, and that they were one step closer to victory.

The letters also mentioned names I found vaguely familiar: Rowle, Malfoy, Lestrange, Carrow. I'd met them at various social events and parties, like our yearly Christmas gatherings, which were - in the words of my father -"only for the best of the Wizarding families".

It was at such an affair that I first met Erebus. We had both reached for the same glass of pumpkin juice at the kids' table, and we were inseparable ever since. There were other children as well. I still remembered their names: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson.

They were much older than us, and there came a year when they had to leave for Hogwarts. After that, they no longer wanted to join Erebus and me, preferring to stick with their families and be introduced around like proper adults.

There had also been another girl, Hannah Abbott, but her father had forbidden her to ever play with us. Perhaps even amongst the elite, there was favouritism and intolerance.

"True purebloods" and honour were all they ever seemed to talk about at these functions. And so Erebus and I would continue to sneak away, sniggering about how boring and grown-up they all were. We promised each other that we would never be like them, snotty, pompous, and arse-licking.

That had all changed when Voldemort rose for the second time. Erebus had been excited about it, constantly providing me updates about the war that he'd heard from his mother. I never cared for it.

When he told me bloody, gruesome details of massacres and fatal duels, I'd just wrinkle my nose and tell him to stop. It carried on until the both of us received our first Hogwarts acceptance letter.

I hope I get sorted into Slytherin, he'd told me excitedly. I read a lot, I told him proudly. I reckon I'd be in Ravenclaw.

The only right house to be in is Slytherin, Amora. If I get sorted into anything else, I'm taking the next train home.

As if our words had been prophecy, Erebus did, in fact, get sorted into Slytherin, and I into Ravenclaw. Despite this, we remained close friends, studying in the Great Hall and making our first trip to Hogsmeade together.

When Erebus discovered a spot on the hill that overlooked the Black Lake, he would coerce me into bunking off classes to go there with him. I had mixed feelings about it, as I didn't want to miss lessons, especially Astronomy and Arithmancy. Still, I followed him, against my better judgement.

It was in our fourth year when the Battle of Hogwarts happened. Our parents had pre-empted this and pulled us out of school, one by one, so as not to raise suspicions. I remember just being thankful I had an extra year to study for O.W.L.s.

It had been my mother who told me that Voldemort had been defeated, and that my father had been imprisoned along with many of the other Death Eaters.

I had not known him well, but an undeniable twinge of pity always surfaced when I thought about it. To be alone in a dark and musty cell, with no one or thing except four walls to speak to. I would have gone absolutely insane.

We were allowed back at school the next term. Everything had been rebuilt. The courtyards sparkled with fresh limestone, and the gardens bloomed brighter than before. But something in me was lost. I no longer knew why I was here, or what I wanted after graduation. Classes became tiresome, and homework was a chore.

When the letter from Mr Malfoy arrived, calling us to join him, I had been excited; refreshed with new vigour to finally be doing something worthwhile. He had a way with words, and it did not take much effort to turn our heads. We were already bored and fidgety, many of us harbouring resentment towards the Ministry, for killing or incarcerating our dearest family members; and to our schoolmates, who taunted us relentlessly for being children of the Disgraced. 

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All that said, the return of my father should have been a tearful, happy one. Or at least, that's how I'd always imagined it. But the truth was far from it.

Lilith and I waited in the foyer. She sat on the staircase while I paced back and forth below her. She bade me to calm down, but I could not. She thought it was my father I was worried about, but it was Erebus. I hated Lucius for asking him along.

He was just a boy, he knew nothing. If something goes wrong, he would be an easy scapegoat. A sacrifical lamb that Lucius would throw to the Aurors when they came. And I knew Erebus and his spirit - he would not survive in a damp, dark cell alone.

When the doors flung open, I breathed a sigh of relief. They flooded in, old and new faces alike. I saw Erebus' golden hair amongst the party, and allowed myself to be at ease.

My father walked up to me. "Amora," he greeted me with a hug. I lay an arm loosely over his back. He smelt musty, the smell of sea salt still clinging to his clothes. "Welcome back," I responded stiltedly.

Meanwhile, Erebus was arm in arm with his father, and the two embraced in a way I couldn't imagine doing with mine.

"Barnabas!" Lilith cried, running up to him joyfully. This was the first time I had seen Abigor in the flesh. He was dark and tall, almost as tall as Erebus. But while Erebus was lithe and willowy, Abigor was large and hulking like a bear. I did not know what he was like; I only heard stories.

He was only fifteen when he joined the Death Eaters in the Second Wizarding War. Ruthless and unforgiving, he followed his father on Death Eater missions. He'd killed five Muggles in total, and Voldemort had taken an especial liking to him.

At fifteen, I was lounging in the Ravenclaw common room with my friends, giggling about which Quidditch players were the most fit, or what was the best recipe for a Shrinking Solution.

But perhaps the story that shot Barnabas to infamy was when he had tried to kill Mr Malfoy's very own son. Draco Malfoy had turned against the Voldemort at the last second, throwing Harry Potter his wand. Barnabas would have succeeded if not for one girl, Angel Dawson, who had shielded Draco with her body.

Neither of them died. In fact, they were both living happily in a posh house out in the West Midlands.

Lucius hated the girl, using choice words whenever he spoke about her. My son was a traitor, he'd told us bitterly. You shall not harm him, but he is not our ally. He married a Mudblood tramp, a filthy gutter whore who will taint our lineage.

Personally, I thought it incredibly valiant of her to have done what she did. She wasn't even a true Mudblood since it was only her mother who had been born of two Muggle parents. Her father was a full wizard. But it did not serve me to contradict Lucius, and so I would nod obediently whenever he went on a rant.

Besides Barnabas, there were others in the throng now entering the house that I did not recognise. I led them in, and Lilith closed the door behind Lucius, who followed last.

The ex-Death Eaters began to fill the empty places at their table, some of them sighing when they sat down, as if they'd reunited with old family. The atmosphere in the Manor had now changed with their arrival. The air was heavy with tension and new anticipation.

I took my seat cautiously, not quite sure where I fit in. Narcissa also joined us this time, perching herself cautiously next to Lucius. It might have been unbecoming of the Malfoys if the wife had not been present to greet these long-lost friends, after all.

"Just like old times, eh?" Thorfinn Rowle chuckled to Lucius, and I noticed the mark on his left forearm, now a faded red scar - a skull, a snake roping itself around it.

Lucius offered a lazy smile. "Are we ready to begin?" The Death Eaters snickered and whooped.

"Let us first discuss... the wand."

"Where is it?" A man by the name of Augustus Rookwood asked.

"Back in Dumbledore's tomb, or so my sources tell me," said Lucius.

"Dumbledore's tomb is on Hogwarts grounds," my father said. "We'll never enter it without being caught."

"Erebus is to fetch the wand," I filled him in. "Once we're back at school for the new term, he-"

"Actually," Lucius spoke over me. "Amora will go instead." He sat up straighter in his chair as if to make his decree more commanding. 

A shock befell those of us who had been privy to the old plan. I turned to Erebus, expecting him to fly into a rage, but the presence of the Death Eaters seemed to reign him in. His eyes were wide, but he said nothing. Instead, it was Lilith who spoke up.

"Mr Malfoy, did you mean Amora will go alone?"

"I believe I spoke very clearly, Miss Pettigrew," drawled Lucius. "I find Erebus of rather... volatile nature. He might jeopardise our plan. Miss Rosier will be the one to retrieve the wand. I assume this will not a problem?" He turned to me now.

They were all staring at me, like vultures waiting for the lions to finish its pickings - the lion being Lucius, that is. My father looked at me with a mixture of worry and pride.

"N- no, Mr Malfoy. But wouldn't Erebus be a better choice? I don't think I-"

"Perfect. That's settled then," Lucius slapped the table lightly, cutting me off once more. I did not hear the rest of the meeting; my thoughts swallowed me whole.

The only task I had been burdened with was to take care of the prisoners once they arrived. I never thought much about the weight of Erebus' mission. It was different when it was said out loud now, in front of all these hardened been-there-done-thats.

A seventeen year-old girl, to desecrate and steal from the tomb of one of the greatest wizards who had ever lived. It was utterly unthinkable.

Erebus was glaring at me so poisonously it could have disintegrated me into smoke. I fixated my gaze on the fireplace behind Rookwood; a trick fellow Ravenclaw Odalis Welford taught me while playing Wizard's Chess. The first thing that gives your plays away are your eyes. Look at something in the distance, and they won't be able to tell.

"And what of the Ministry?" Thorfinn Rowle's voice, loud and guttural, snapped me back to reality.

Lucius stroked the head of his cane as if the snake was alive and hissing under his fingers. "Already infiltrated as we speak. With the Elder Wand, not even those sniveling idiots can stop us."