Ten Easy Steps to Exorcism!

(By Griselda Foy)

1. Secure the victim of possession to a firm surface, or at least stand well back.

2. Pour a circle of three parts sea salt to one part iron filings around the victim.

3. If the name of the ghost or other malevolent spirit is unknown, continue the steps. If known, determine friendliness or malevolence before proceeding to Step 7.

4. At least three other non-possessed beings or intelligent beasts should be present at any exorcism. Ideally those present will represent a victim's loved ones, although this is not required. Direct each in turn to approach the circle, touch the victim's feet, and ask for the spirit's name.

5. If no response, repeat while touching the hands. (Hands and feet are two common ports of possession; the third comprises all orifices of the head.)

6. If still no response, the exorcist will stand at the victim's feet; this point is "South." Have the other three persons present stand North, West, and East, corresponding to their degrees of closeness to the victim (e.g., a beloved spouse would stand North, a parent West, and finally a sibling East). Direct them to touch the victim's hands and head simultaneously. While sprinkling the feet with salt, demand the spirit's name.

7. At this point, only a hostile spirit will fail to respond. Wave the loved ones away and advise them to raise shield charms or else physical shields. Ensure that no one crosses the circle.

8. Deploy familiar.

9. Stick to the script.

10. Try not to damage the body.

###

Red, red, what to do when the eyes are red –

She'd never seen red, not in real life, but there was a book …

Dree was circling sullenly, expecting to be scolded, and Mimi had fled to Harry as if running home, her playdate turned sour. Dumbledore had just cast a minor shield between the two familiars, and Snape was by the children – the one wearing blue earmuffs had been frightened by the shattering glass, and was now clinging to his arm as if pulling herself up from drowning –

Or no, she wasn't frightened by the glass. It was Curious Girl, Hermione, and she was shouting and pointing toward the man on the floor. Blond Girl and Blonder Boy had their earmuffs on and seemed to be bickering.

"Dree, the circle!"

Snape's attention snapped back to her. He drew his wand and pointed it at the man, who was sitting up in a way that looked wrong. His hips were canted oddly, and of course his lower legs were MIA. He looked, Griselda thought, like a man run over by several automobiles.

(There were only seventeen acknowledged Squibs in the United Kingdom, and all were familiar with the Muggle world. Excepting Argus Filch, of course. All he wanted in life was to stay near Mrs. Norris, an immortal demon cat cursed to wander the halls of Hogwarts until they crumbled. Honestly, the man's name might as well have been Renfield.)

There was no time for a circle. The man's lower jaw sagged open, and his breath reeked of copper and seaweed.

"Give me Harry Potter. Leave the boy, or stay and die."

Griselda took a breath.

"Voldemort," she said, ignoring the gasps from Blond and Blonder. "Hogwarts Castle casts you out. The Headmaster casts you out. I cast you out!"

Misdreavus was hovering, watching for her signal. Mimi was swirling ominously but staying with Harry for now, and Griselda wished that she'd had more time to observe her. She had no idea what the little familiar would do when her master was threatened.

The man gave a cold, high-pitched laugh.

"Dead spark, you dare to command Lord Voldemort? You dare invoke my name? Powerless, useless, lower than a Mudblood –"

"Voldemort, I cast you –"

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said. His wand was trained on the man's head, but he was giving her a chance to do her job. "His true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The man snarled, showing his teeth like a wolf. "I'll eat your heart raw, old man!"

"Gross," one of the children muttered.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Griselda intoned. "You are expelled from this place. The Castle rejects you, the Headmaster rejects you, the host rejects you—"

"Quirinus Quirrell," Snape murmured.

"—Quirrell rejects you, this earthly plane rejects you! I cast you out of this host and off the skin of this world!"

Voldemort screamed, and Quirrell's body writhed. The scream went on and on and Dree cocked her head, listening.

When the scream crackled into mad laughter, the banshee swooped down.

"Not yet," Griselda shouted, "not yet, Dree, something's happening –"

Quirrell's back arched so sharply the top of his head hit the floor. Snape's eyes widened, but he made no sound. One of the children screamed, and Poppy Pomfrey swore in a hushed voice. Dumbledore cast another shield.

Four spikes appeared, pushing out of Quirrell's truncated legs and lengthening until each stump sat on a gigantic, crescent-shaped razor claw. These claws hauled the rest of Quirrell's body upright. He looked like a nightmarish crab, absurd and horrifically wrong.

His lower jaw still hung open, and Griselda wondered if Quirrell was even alive. Spirits were able to possess dead bodies, although only the very Darkest would stoop so low …

The creature-that-was-Quirrell scuttled toward her, tearing the Headmaster's shield like tissue paper.

###

Hermione was half-convinced she'd been trapped in a nightmare.

Harry wasn't moving (but he was in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey would heal him), Draco was demanding to know what was happening, Daphne was staring white-faced at something that looked like a malfunctioning T-1000 and stank of blood and low tide, and Professor Dumbledore seemed to be trying not to hurt Professor Quirrell, who pretty much had to be dead from the way he was flopping around on top of those curved steel claws …

Snape was falling back to protect Harry, Pomfrey was casting a spell that made the floor beneath the crab-thing all slippery, but it just dug its claw-points into the actual stone and flung itself toward the exorcist, who didn't have time to step back.

There had to be something she could do, but it was all happening so fast!

"Cover your ears!" Daphne shouted, her voice muffled through Hermione's earmuffs.

"What do you—"

Miss Foy's familiar screamed.

###

Severus Snape was inside the Sound-Muffling and Fresh-Air Charms placed around Harry's cot. Mimikyu was pressed against his left arm, where the Dark Mark had failed to burn.

It wasn't even darkening, and it should have been. The Dark Lord was right here, or some part of him was, and his Mark was still invisible.

The exorcist's Banshee familiar was hovering between her master and the horror that Quirrell had become. Snape couldn't see her face, but he knew the moment she started shrieking. He could feel the vibration in his teeth, unpleasant as a dentist's drill.

Dumbledore, protected by his earplugs, cast a hasty Sound-Muffling charm around himself, Poppy, and the children. The exorcist didn't flinch.

The Banshee's scream knocked Quirrell off-balance, razor claws gouging stone. Miss Foy had just enough time to dodge as the crab-thing regained its footing and lunged, trying to disembowel her in a single vicious swipe.

The Banshee swooped at its slack-jawed face and spat out a purple cloud. Snape saw the thing flinch, but again it failed to pass out or die or whatever the attack was supposed to accomplish.

Mimikyu went very still. Snape kept his wand out, waiting to curse the Dark Lord without drawing his attention back to Harry. He glanced down just as Mimi's shadow streaked across the room.

The shadow stretched behind Crab-Quirrell, now snapping his jaws at the exorcist's familiar. Dree banshee-screamed again as Shadow-Mimikyu opened glowing red eyes, pouring darkness over Quirrell's head before slapping him flat on the cold stone floor.

Snape threw Incarcerous, wrapping cable tightly around the wicked claws. Poppy and Albus cast at almost the same instant, binding the torso in thin cords and braided rope.

He stepped out from behind the charms and knew Quirrell was dead. Instead of gasping for air, his colleague's body lay eerily silent, watching the exorcist with hate-filled eyes.

"You've failed, little Squib," the Dark Lo—Voldemort said. (Not even Voldemort: a pathetic remnant, not to mention a cowardly murderer.)

"Even more blood on your hands, Tom," Albus said sadly. "When will it end?"

"Wretched old man," the spirit replied. "I haven't begun. There are so many mortal shells, right here in this room …"

A dark mist rose from the ill-used corpse of Quirinus Quirrell.

Snape should have seen it coming. Albus certainly should have. Poppy should have been wary for her patient.

But no one moved quickly enough, and the mist poured into Harry Potter's body through his exposed pale feet.

###

He was right; the so-called Dark Lord was right. She'd failed.

Griselda watched as the miasma swarmed an innocent child. His poor familiar was hissing horribly, and Dree was gearing up for another shriek. Snape didn't have his earmuffs on and was likely in for a painful surprise.

Then Fawkes, whom they had all forgotten, began to sing.

Hermione gasped, and her blonde friend began to weep. Madam Pomfrey said, "It's all right, girls, this is phoenix song. It affects everyone a bit differently, but it can't harm children."

Dree huddled with Mimi, her grievance forgotten. Both familiars were crowded up against Harry's side.

The phoenix held a quavering note. It felt like molten sunshine, Griselda thought, burning and beautiful as golden lava …

Voldemort, or what was left of him, gave a muffled shriek.

Harry's eyes snapped open. They were so green they appeared to be glowing.

"Get out!" said the Boy-Who-Lived.

The black mist reversed itself, pouring out of his feet, but it was fainter than before, pale grey and sickly. A tiny flame licked along one edge.

Harry's familiar pounced. Its shadowy tentacles scooped up mist – dear Merlin, was she eating it? – and Voldemort screamed again.

Griselda stepped forward and held out a clear glass bottle.

"Here," she said gently. "I've infused the glass with healing herbs. Come see, it's nice and cool, I won't let her in after you … you'll be safe in here …"

The mist, now very faint indeed, swirled into the bottle. When the last wisp disappeared inside, the exorcist corked it.

###

"That won't hold him," Professor Snape informed Miss Foy. He sounded quite condescending, in Hermione's expert opinion.

"It's real cork, gifted from a Dryad's tree," the exorcist said shortly. "Any living thing it seals is sent to sleep."

And as they all watched (even Draco, whose eyedrops had finally worked), the grayish mist settled to the bottom and lay still.

"What now?" Daphne asked. "How do we get rid of him?"

"Before anyone says another word," Professor Snape said, "I need to make a Floo call. After living through today, I don't fancy being cursed to pieces by Andromeda Tonks."

"Severus –"

"Albus," he replied. "Her son is unconscious and the Dark Lord's been trapped in a bottle. I'm calling the boy's mother, and not even you can stop me."

Draco's slow clap startled them all.