How to Sell Your Soul to the Devil Herself

Katrina-Carlotta was waiting for Albus Potter. Of course, she knew that he wouldn't arrive for another few minutes. The woman herself had created the portkey that she'd sent to the male. Their previous agreement meant that Albus was relying upon her being trustworthy. Or at least, not untrustworthy enough to sell him out.

The portkey would be depositing Albus right outside of the deserted lands that the dark witch herself had warded. The land they would be using, technically belonged to a friend of Katrina-Carlotta's. Marie was one of the few people alive that the woman genuinely cared about. The French witch was younger than her by almost ten years, but successfully controlled a network of assassins and other highly illegal "tradesmen". Marie owned a castle and a ridiculous amount of unused land in Wales, and Katrina-Carlotta had long ago reached the point where inviting herself into the other woman's properties was no-longer overstepping. Most of the time, the other dark witch wasn't even aware of the intrusions.

The fields they'd be using were deserted of all but grass, and in an area of Wales fondly nicknamed the Green Desert simply for it's uninhabited appearance. And so, Katrina-Carlotta stood alone on a hill. Wand in one hand, dark tome in the other, staring intently at a spot twenty feet in front of her. Waiting.

He had been staring at it the whole morning.

The tiny, black, wing-shaped brooch lay innocuously on his dining table, pretending for all the world as if it wasn't just about to turn his world upside-down. He cooked, and cleaned, and played his guitar, yet time and time again his eyes were drawn to it, like iron to a magnet. Ten minutes before nine, he finally gave up and flopped down on the chair, chin propped on the table, staring at the Portkey.

He briefly, very briefly contemplated standing her up. Thinking about the retribution for that act, alternately made him chuckle and shiver. He cast a Tempus charm again. Two more minutes.

Albus ceased trying to pretend that he was confused, conflicted. He knew he had to be there, wanted to be there. One meeting had been decided upon, so one meeting they would have. Then he could cancel the entire deal-with-the-devil, as it were. If only he knew that deals once made, were rarely ever unmade.

He grabbed the Portkey.

A twist, a hooking sensation in the navel. Albus staggered, and barely avoided falling to his knees. His sense of balance in magical means of travel, much like his father, was atrocious. He turned to look side to side, and was surprised to find open lands. What did I expect, dreary dungeons? He shook his head internally, and brushed himself off, left hand straying towards his wand. His eyes scoped out the landscape, noting the shimmer in the distance, hinting towards runic wards. All the while of course, valiantly pretending that the eyes of the most infamous woman in Europe were not currently boring into him.

Albus appeared exactly where he was supposed to, right on the strike of nine. Gaining a small pleased smile, not that she was expecting him to stand her up or anything, the witch took a step forwards. "Albus Potter, glad you could make it," Katrina-Carlotta stated lightly. Not that there was any reason for him to not be able to make it, considering that he was the one who had decided upon the time.

"We're in Wales," the dark witch announced, voice traveling easily, "all the land for miles belongs to an associate of mine, we will not be disturbed. But just to be safe-" Katrina-Carlotta broke off, and gestured to the wards that the male stood directly outside of.

"You'll need to be touching me to enter them," the woman explained shortly, knowing that there were many different types of runic ward, and not particularly wishing for Albus to accidentally get too close and disintegrate himself.

Evenly walking towards her student, the dark witch managed to hold in her shudder as she exited the wards, the magic having sent a sharp tingle down her spine. Laying her hand upon the Potter's upper arm, the woman tilted her head expectantly, waiting for him to take the necessary steps. It might take him a moment, but he would. She knew he would.

Internally, Katrina-Carlotta was still trying to figure out what she wanted to teach the young man first. Because really, there was just so much.

Albus hesitated for a second, when she touched his arm. Perhaps in expectation of something. A prickle, a tingle, a slide of uneasiness; something to indicate that a witch in whose very veins ran the Darkest of Magick.....was making physical contact with him.

He felt nothing though. Nothing out of the ordinary. Imperceptibly, Albus sucked in a breath, trapping it in his chest, and took five steps forward. The magic walls rippled past him, causing goosebumps to erupt on his skin. A steady exhale.

Wales. Dark Arts lessons under Katrina-Carlotta du Hunt. No witnesses for a particularly gruesome murder, and ample space to bury his body, if she wished. Albus felt strangely calm at the realisation. Hell, he would put up a damn good fight, if it came down to it. Which reminded him....

"I suppose you wish to know what level I'm at, to gauge my skills." It was an obvious conclusion. "How exactly do you propose to do that?" Maybe......maybe a mock duel. A strange surge of adrenaline set his blood prickling at the thought. A chance to use some of the spells he'd been dying to try out......

A smirk flickered on the corners of his lips. Hell, he would definitely put up a good fight.

Katrina-Carlotta refrained from raising an eyebrow, however much she wanted to in that moment. Albus was asking her how she wanted to test him. As soon as he had spoken, a gleam had appeared in his eyes and a small smirk on his face. She knew that look, it was the look for someone who wanted a fight. So the Potter wanted to duel with her? Now, already?

He would be good, she'd already decided upon that. But she was... this was her life. "Well," the witch said slowly, "you could show me some of those creations, and the more advanced spells you can cast. Or, I suppose, we could just jump right in to a little mock-duel."

It wasn't often that Katrina-Carlotta got to fight someone she wasn't intending to end. Restraining herself would feel odd, but she would be able to do it. The only person she ever dueled with like this was Marie. And while the French witch had power and ability, she was severely lacking in speed.

The woman waited for the wizard to respond, although she had already guessed what his answer would be. Breathing in the fresh Welsh air, the dark witch began to pace slowly across the grass.

"-could show me some of those creations, and the more advanced spells you can cast. Or, I suppose, we could just jump right in to a little mock-duel."

Katrina-Carlotta had a downright eerie ability of grasping his thought-process. Or rather, of gauging his weak spots and aiming for them with merciless precision. First persuading him to take lessons under her and now this.....

Albus let his wand slide out from his holster, hidden under his sleeve. He spun it, lightly, on his fingers. He was more than aware of his dueling weaknesses.....and strengths. With time, he had evolved his own dueling style, a mix of Charms and Transfiguration, and straight offense. He wasn't the duck-and-roll sort of guy, his stamina had a tendency of running out, which was why he avoided the Unforgivables and high-powered spells in general. This was an area which he wished to hone, because though a truly Dark spell gave him an unparalleled high, it also left him drained with shaking knees. He specialised in distractions, minor illusions, complicated spells which were accomplished by half the power.

Reputation aside, Katrina-Carlotta had to prove her salt as a teacher too. He didn't intend to be the only one tested here.

With an indistinguishable flick, and a handy non-verbal charm, the grass around Katrina-Carlotta's feet started growing, developing strong roots, rising and waving like snakes. The mission was simple: to entangle her feet and distract her, rendering her incapable to move. Swish, back flick, front jab and...."Ars Memoria"

A silver jet of light shot out of his wand, panning out to form a wide, mercurial wave. Dodging was virtually impossible. Merlin, he wished she wouldn't shield it in time. He had conceptualised it in seventh year, worked on it for ages. It was based on his studies of the Pensieve, of memory magic. The Old Wound curse. The spell fed on old wound memories, traces left over on the body and replenished it. Basically, every major injury (including extremely strong pain spells) that the victim had received in his lifetime, would be renewed. It would be worthless on school students, but very useful for people prompt to injuries, like Aurors. Useful against experienced duelers. Like now.

When the grass surrounding Katrina-Carlotta's legs began to twist around her ankles, she knew the duel had begun. Wand in hand with a flick or her wrist, the woman had no time to deal with the grass before another spell was flying her way. It wasn't one she recognized, or had ever heard of. So Albus was starting strong, with one of his own creations. Even if it didn't hit, the shock value would throw most people off. It was an intelligent enough plan.

With no other choice readily available to her, the dark witch threw up the strongest shield she knew, and was immeasurably glad when the Potter's spell failed to break it. Taking a risky split second to free her legs, the woman knew that Albus would likely be providing her one of the best challenges she'd faced in quite a while.

Without a thought, the woman raised her wand from it's previous position and cast, "Speculo." The charm was a brilliant and complicated one, and if the European had a trademark charm this would probably be it. The spell created a duplicate of oneself, and while difficult to properly master, was beyond useful in a fight. Today, Katrina-Carlotta decided that she wanted to be able to truly judge Albus's capabilities. Only one of her bodies would be fighting the wizard, while the other would observe. While dueling someone was one of the best ways to understand their capabilities, it was far too easy to miss things while attempting to prevent oneself from getting injured. This way, the European would be able to watch from both angles. The magic-made twin of Katrina-Carlotta backed ten paces backwards, wand read to defend if a spell flew astray.

The Death Eater had a far from simple dueling style. She'd learned from so many different people and places, that pegging down whom had taught her was almost impossible. Everywhere she'd studied, the woman had picked up a few useful things, and added them to her style and repertoire. So many different people, countries, books. It had amused the witch to learn that different nations had different spells. It was true that everyone shared the basics, but there were differences most wouldn't expect, especially among the darker magics. One of Katrina-Carlotta's advantages was that very few had traveled to all the places she had, and therefore the witch knew at least a handful of curses her opponent wouldn't be aware of. Sadly, Albus also shared this advantage due to his creations.

Her large knowledge pool, power, and observational skills were her most useful strengths. The Europeans main weakness, was lack of theoretical spell knowledge. While her casting was impressive, there was much about spells that the woman simply didn't know. While many magical beings out there had knowledge of Latin, useful for figuring out what unknown spells did, Katrina-Carlotta was clueless. Furthermore, the dark-haired assassin had very little awareness of potions other than poisons. While there were very few offensive brews, such was another weakness, one that was guarded closely.

She shielded. Damn. Albus wanted to see if his experimental spell actually worked. Not to mention a sort of morbid curiosity......Katrina-Carlotta would certainly have acquired a fantastic set of injuries during her lifetime.

Of course, he hadn't really waited to see if she had shielded or not. He guessed at it judging from the lack of gasps of pain. He was too busy sensing out the wards. If he was not mistaken then...yes. Oh yes. Of course she didn't set up anti-Apparition wards, she still treated him like a skittish kitten at times, one wrong move and he would flee. This could now prove to his advantage.

In the second that Katrina-Carlotta used to free her legs, Albus Disapparated.

And reappeared ten paces behind her. The witch had not shot spells at him yet, which meant she was adopting a defensive, observing approach. She had even summoned a double to watch him. It was strange, he hadn't expected such a non-offensive style, but it was a good strategy nonetheless. Her eerie ability of scoping out his mind seemed at fault here, if she guessed about his stamina. Provided she maintained her shields, a solid twenty minutes of solid offense would drain Albus out. He needed to up the tempo. He needed to land a hit on her, and fast. A handy 'Reducto' directed at the ground at her feet send clods of earth and dirt flying into the air, obscuring vision.

Albus hesitated for a bare second. No, the reason he had come here was to shed all inhibitions, let free his.....darker tendencies. He couldn't afford to be reluctant, this one second might have cost him a fast victory already. A downward slash of his wand, and a hissed word.

"Sectumsempra."

A useful spell, one which he had worked out the mechanics of. Of course it had taken him ages to wheedle out the knowledge from Snape's portrait, but the grumpy man had eventually relented, seeing that Albus had no compunctions about breaking into the Headmaster's Office as often as possible to talk to him. He had a sneaking doubt that the ex.Potions Master might even have felt flattered. Anyway back to the present, in the aftermath of the shock of deflecting the Memoria spell, the Apparition, the Reducto.......in all probability, the spell should hit her, if not incapacitate her.

Albus had disappeared, the smart boy. Thank Merlin her first reaction was to look behind her, where any intelligent life form would attempt to strike from. She hadn't gotten a good look though, as he'd quickly obscured her vision with the dirt the environment so kindly provided.

In the next moment she heard him cast. The dark witch still couldn't see Albus, but his voice had given her a general idea of his location. With no time to properly shield, the woman dodged to the right, curse grazing her left arm. It was pure luck and instincts that had kept her from getting knocked down by the Potter's spell. As it was, the gash on her arm was far from shallow. Taking a moment to cast a wordless clotting charm, she couldn't afford to loose too much blood right now, the witch continued the fight with renewed vigor. Pain had always been a decent motivator for her, and now was no exception.

Meanwhile, the doppelganger of the witch was mentally filing away the new spell. It was an impressive one, if a mere graze could cause so much damage. She'd have to ask him about it later, along with the first spell he'd used. Learning new curses was always a most pleasurable past-time.

The debris in the air was now clearing, giving the European a perfect shot that the man whom had drawn first blood. Wand aimed, Katrina-Carlotta growled out, "Morsomnium." The Walking Nightmare curse was hardly a pleasant one to be hit by. The spell caused the victim to fall into a state of being plagued by nothing but personalized nightmares. It could be thrown off, much like the Imperious could be, but it wasn't easy to break through the horrors. Truly, the woman was curious to see if Albus Potter could. It would be nice to know if the male was able to fight the Imperious. The dark witch herself was capable of throwing off both, but it had take practice before she was capable of doing so every time.

He got her. He just knew he got her. The triumph blinded him for a split-second, until he saw a jet of light coming at him at the speed of a Bludger. His half-compiled shield protected him from the worst, but mind spells are scarcely shielded, and the force of the curse hit him like a blow in the gut, and he buckled.

Green, bright green eyes. Verdant, almost poisonous. Albus didn't know what was worse, the venom of the eyes, or the color slowly fading away.

He coughed, hard, vomit and blood sticking in his throat.

Pale, so pale. And so high. He was merely three foot tall, a small boy clinging to the legs of his mother, watching his father's marble coffin being lowered into the ground. It was difficult to imagine that a box could hold back the vibrant man that his dad had been.

Cold eyes, again. Grey this time. A boy with blond hair, dressed in silver-and-green folded his arms, leaning against the cold dungeon wall. His words still echo in Albus's head: " You're Albus Potter?" Surprised contempt. You're Albus Potter.......

He was breathing heavily, too heavily. Green grass and blue sky were blurring before his eyes, a faded figure in the distance looking at him. He bent his head down and....

The curse shot out, too fast, too fast. A sick sound, like internal organs being torn out. Anger. Shock. Its only when he hears the dim clatter that he realises his wand has slipped out of his hand, falling on the floor.

Red hair. Red hair and a pale, pale face.......storms in the night. Lightning crackling.

No...du Hunt. Du Hunt was still standing there, he couldn't...

"I'm going Mum." James's voice is strangely determined. The lines of his face are hardened, have been ever since he knew that Voldemort was still alive. Mum doesn't bother protesting. He walks out, shoes clicking against the wooden floor.

Albus doesn't let him though. He clings, and holds on to his elder brother's hand, letting the panic, the desperation show. "James...you can't, please he'll kill you....." James jerks his hand away, and doesn't even bother insulting him, mocking his cowardliness. The stranger with the hard face, walks out without a word.

Albus turns to his mother, fairly begging. "Mum you can't let him...."

"Go away Albus." She sounds too dead to care. And it hurts. It twists a knife in his gut that everyone's given up on everyone, that his mother doesn't care to see him. Or his eyes. Because her precious son is out to duel evil. And this son was never part of the family to begin with.

Hold on. He had to hold on and ride this out..

Lily's shattered face, so like their mother's. James' face is entirely closed up. Maybe because he's carrying the dead body of their Mum in his arms.

Albus surfaced, churning and whirling, wand pointed straight ahead. His eyes were darkened, almost to black. He wouldn't miss. He couldn't miss. "Crucio."