Chapter Five- Eschewal

It had taken longer than he would have liked, but Harry had finally gotten into the Music Director's office to throw the pump switch that would drain the stairwell of ink. He had to compliment Mr. Lawrence on the complexity of his Musical Puzzle. It took Harry a number of tries to get it right. And he did not give in to the childish impulse of intentionally doing it wrong to find out how many cutouts would appear in the orchestra pit. Really. (He was so glad Hermione wasn't there with him.)

He stood silently in Mr. Lawrence's office, staring down at the papers strewn over what had once been the Music Director's desk. He frowned, shuffling around the papers and carefully reading them over.

From what little he'd gathered about the man in question, Sammy Lawrence was a musician and had no interest in messing with the Ink Machine (unless it was to shut the blasted thing down). Yet there were blueprints for the Ink Machine on the desk in his office. A second Ink Machine. But why? Why would there be blueprints for the Machine in the Music Department, of all places?

Harry was pants at mechanics (electronics in general if he was going to be honest with himself. (Something in his head twitched)), he knew that. The same went for most British magicals. He'd only gotten as far as he had based on guesswork and gut feelings. But if there were blueprints for the machine, then maybe someone else could figure the blasted thing out. And maybe they could even figure out how to undo the damage that had been done with it.

Perhaps Hermione would know something about this sort of thing? Out of all of them, she had done the best at keeping up with her non-magical education outside of school. At the very least, he would need to hand them over to the Unspeakables to be studied.

Nodding to himself, Harry carefully rolled up the plans and neatly tucked them into is satchel (he was so glad he'd brought the magically expanded bag with him).

"Alright, time to see if the stairwell is finally clear. And then I can finally get out of this mad house." Harry muttered, striding out of the office and back down the gloomy hallway. He ignored the uncomfortable twitching of his nerves, telling him that something was off right then. He really hoped there weren't more ink monsters getting ready to attack him.

It was just the stress of creeping around this eerie place getting to him. At least he hoped it was, his grip tightening on the ax (He had returned his wand to it's holster long ago, finding it easier to get things done with one hand free). He needed to focus on getting out of there in one piece and alerting MACUSA about what was in the Studio. Everything else could come after that. Harry rounded the corner, his focus on the doorway to the stairwell and the exit that lay at the bottom of it.

CLANG!

The back of Harry's head erupted in pain, stars appearing before his eyes and black quickly seeping into his vision. Harry felt himself crumple to the floor, the ax falling from his fingers with a clatter.

"Rest your head, it's time for bed." For just a moment, he glimpsed the strange figure he'd seen earlier standing over him, and his vision went dark.

Harry groaned, the world slowly slipping back into focus.

"There we go, nice and tight. We wouldn't want our sheep roaming away now, would we? No, we wouldn't." Harry felt something cold and wet seeping into his clothes, and slowly pried open his eyes.

He was met with the sight of a stained Bendy mask, which made him freeze in shock. He eyes took in more of the figure before him who appeared to be a man made entirely out of ink, wearing stained brown pants that were being held up on his frame by a pair of suspenders. He bore an uncanny resemblance to the creatures he'd had to fight earlier, but somehow he seemed to be in worse condition, his body being far too thin and rippling in unnatural ways. His breath caught in his throat at the sudden wave of fear that gripped him.

'Sammy' was the frightened whisper in his head, recognizing the being's voice from the recordings of the Music Director that he'd found earlier.

"I must admit I am... Honored... that you came all the way down here to visit me. It makes what I'm about to do seem... Cruel. But the believers must honor their savior. I must have him notice me." Harry's eyes frantically flicked about the room, wrists twisting against the rope, mapping out the room in a desperate attempt to find a way out of this. He could see his ax resting against a support beam with a speaker mounted on it. The post he was tied to was mounted in the middle of a ritual seal that had been drawn on the floor in ink.

"The time of sacrifice is at hand! And then I will finally be freed from this... Prison. This inky... dark... abyss I call a body." Harry wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to stop this madness, but he couldn't get a single word past the lump of fear in his throat (this wasn't right, he's been in worse situations than this, why was he terrified of this man?!). A hoarse, strangled sound finally escaped him. "Shh! Quiet! Listen! I can hear him. Crawling above. Crawling! The ritual must be completed! Soon he will hear me... He will set us free."

The ink man moved away, dragging his feet as he made his way to a room positioned on side of the room.

What is he doing? A small part of Harry's mind wondered. You're not supposed to leave the area of a ritual when summoning something. Without any magical elements or items in the seal, the demon would be drawn to the summoner's voice. The speakers above him crackled to life, and his captor started speaking.

*"Sheep, sheep, sheep, it's time for sleep. Rest your head, it's time for the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead. Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering!"*

Harry's breathing picked up and he started fighting harder against the bindings. (He needed to get out. He needed to escape. He couldn't be caught by the demon!) He ignored Sammy's mad ramblings as the metal gate in front of him clattered open.

*"...Show your face and take this tender sheep! No! My lord! I am your prophet, I am your-"* Sammy's voice cut off with a terrified, blood curdling scream.

"C'mon, c'mon, I needa' get outta' here..." He breathed, his magic roiling and flaring under his skin in response to his frantic, scattered emotions. Harry stumbled forward, nearly falling on his face, when the ropes abruptly vanished. He lunged for his ax as more ink monsters formed around him, closing in on him. He wrenched the blade up, letting it dig into the nearest monster.

Harry forced his way to the passageway that had opened, cutting down any monsters or wooden planks that barred his path. He swore when the ax abruptly snapped in his hands. He looked around, his fear fading slightly. He nearly sagged in relief when he spotted a door a head of him. A wonderful door marked "Exit". A small part of his mind twitched at the large room full of ink between him and the door.

"Thank Merlin. Now I can finally get out of-" Harry cut himself off with a choked scream as 'Bendy' surged up from the pool. Harry stumbled back, a fresh wave of terror flooding his senses, and bolted down the branching hallway. Pelting down the winding halls in a blind panic, Harry followed a random path without thought, hoping it would lead him to safety.

'There's a way t' escape, gotta get there!' Harry was breathing hard, rounding a sharp corner, he spotted an open doorway at the end of the hall and put on another burst of speed.

Bolting through, he seized the door and slammed it shut, shoving a board over it to hold it shut. Something slammed into the closed door, making him stumble back, but then everything fell silent. Harry held his breath, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. The door sat there silently, no sounds coming from behind it. He carefully moved closer, pressing an ear to the door and listening.

Nothing.

Had it... Had it left him? Why? Surely a such a plain wooden door wouldn't have been enough to actually stop that monster from chasing him further…

Harry took a half step back, he still couldn't stay there. He needed to leave and find another way out of the Studio. This place was simply too dangerous for him to stay any longer. But he had a very big problem now. He had no idea where he was in the building, or how deep underground he was, or what else Drew had done to change the building from the plans he'd originally seen, so he definitely couldn't apparate out of there now. And he had no plans of splinching himself anytime soon.

He needed to find somewhere safe. Somewhere that he could sit down and think, without being in danger.

'Gotta get to the safe house...' Harry paused at the strange thought.

A safe house? He didn't know about any safe house in the studio. Green eyes narrowed. He had been having a lot of strange thoughts and feelings since he'd woken in that odd ritual circle... Had it done something to him? The only ways he could check would be a diagnostic charm, or to use his limited occlumency skills to delve into his own mind.

He wasn't great at occlumency (and he never would be, not with the damage Snape and Voldemort did. It had been hard enough to learn to make basic shields from Andy), but the idea of someone or something getting into his head and messing with his mind in this madhouse of a studio...

Harry jolted at the sound of a can falling and rolling out from behind a corner. He spotted a shadow ducking behind the wall, a nervous whimper echoing through the room. Harry whipped out his wand, training it on the hidden person.

"I know you're there... Come out and show yourself. But I'm warning you, don't try anything, I'm armed!" There was another whimper, then the sound of shuffling footsteps.

A tall lupine-yet-humanoid figure dressed in dull brown overalls stepped out into Harry's view, worriedly rubbing his hands together, his ears twisted back in his distress. The wizard sucked in a startled breath between his teeth.

"B-Boris? You... You're alive!" He almost couldn't believe his eyes. He had been sure the corpse he'd seen up on the first floor had been real, yet Boris was standing in front of him, alive and unharmed.

Just what was going on here?