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Harry and the Ink Demon: Chapter 1- Beginning

Harry loosely sketched in a small, blank book in the back of his cab, the tip of his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Flying to the states hadn’t been easy, what with him having having such a “respectable” standing in the Wizarding world since the end of the war, but he was going to follow through on his plan for his future. Expectations be damned.

“So, where you from Mac?” Harry jolted, his concentration broken unexpectedly by the Cabbie. The Cabbie was an older bloke, probably in his sixties or possibly his seventies, with silver hair that peeked out from under his cap and small rectangle glasses on his nose. He had the kind of wrinkles that showed he spent a lot of time smiling, which matched his friendly demeanor perfectly. Harry gave a sheepish smile, having been drawing a sketch of the man in his book.

“Little Whinging, over in Surrey, England. And the name’s Harry, mate. Don’t know anyone by the name of "Mac”, unless you’re talking about the car.” The cabbie grinned back at him through the rearview mirror. An expression which fit the man, in Harry’s humble opinion.

"Really? You look more like a ‘Henry’ to me. What brings an English gentleman like you to the states?” Harry chuckled at the man’s pleasant tone, unbothered by the friendly jab. He’d heard it quite a few times since his arrival in America. It was a rather amusing social view.

“You want the short version, or the full list?” The cabbie laughed at his snarky response. Harry was mostly trying to figure just what he could say to the man while still keeping the conversation casual. He couldn’t exactly tell the man he was a war hero looking to avoid being drawn into magical politics.

“Gimme the short version, won’t be much longer till we reach your stop.”

“I needed to get out of my family’s shadow, especially with my… Career of interest being what it is.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“I- well, my family’s always been in law enforcement, police, lawyers, that kind of thing. But I- uh, I’m more interested in animation and cartoons.” There, not a lie, but not the whole truth. The Potter’s were actually famous for their involvement in magical law enforcement, so that wasn’t much of stretch to come up with. It was part of the reason everyone thought he would join the Auror’s. But only part of the reason.

The man laughed.

“So you’re an Artsy fella then. 'Splains why you want to head to the old Drew Studios. I heard the place was bought up not too long ago, so you just might be the last "open public” visitor to the place.“ Harry saw the man’s smile turn a litter sadder, his expression rather reminiscent, though his hands remained steady as he drove. "A real shame, that, the new owner’ll probably tear the old place down. Replace it with one o’ them fancy hotels or something.”

“Maybe not, I suppose it’ll really depend on the condition the place is in.” The cabbie’s eyes flicked back to Harry, looking surprised.

“What makes you think that?” Harry gave him a lopsided smile.

“I don’t think it, mate, I know it. I’m the bloke who bought the place.”

“Really?” He could see the man’s face brightening, at the idea of the studio staying.

“Yep. I own all the cartoons now too. For some reason Drew thought it would be grand idea to link his rights to the characters with his rights to the land and the Studio itself. Not the brightest thing to do, in my opinion, but I’m not complaining.” Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose, a smile curving his lips. He had no intention of tearing the building down, not unless he didn’t have a choice. He had a very different plan than putting up a hotel. “I want to start up the 'Bendy’ cartoons again, turn the place back into a full-on animation studio.”

The cabbie let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, but there was no denying the delight in the man’s expression.

“Wow, mac, that’s one hechova goal you’re aiming for.” His smile turned nostalgic. Ah, he must’ve been a long-time fan of the 'Bendy’ cartoons. “Hope you manage it. I remember going with my dad to the theater to watch that show as a kid. Some of the best memories I have of back then, what with the war goin’ on. I’d love to be able to share them with my grand kids.”

“That makes two of us mate. Though, don’t expect a sudden turn out. Fixin’ up an entire studio isn’t an easy task.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I need to check the condition of the building, find out if any of the equipment is salvageable, possibly hire a construction crew, maybe an interior design crew, get a work force to actually run the studio…” He ticked off his fingers with a sigh. So much work to do, but he was going to do his damnedest to make it happen.

“With how much the locals still love that old cartoon, I bet you could run the whole thing offa donations and volunteer work!” The cabbie said with a chuckle. Harry let out a thoughtful hum.

“I’ll have to think about that mate, first I gotta find out what I need done for the place.” He glanced out the car window at the darkening streets. Maybe he should have left earlier in the day to do his inspection. Night was approaching faster than he thought it would, though that could have been the cloudy sky playing tricks on his eyes. It was a good thing he’d decided to wear his rain coat that evening. It had been threatening a storm for the past few days, but now it really looked like it was going to happen. He slipped his sketchbook back into his magically expanded satchel, pulling out his wallet to pay for the ride as the car slowed down.

“Welp, here we are! Joey Drew Studios, home of 'Bendy the Devil Darling’ himself!” The cabbie hesitated for a moment, turning to Harry with a somewhat meek smile on his face. “Hey, can I get your name? I- uh, kinda wanna tell some of the folks I know about what you’re doing. And publicity’s always helpful for new ventures, right?”

“Potter, Harry Potter. I got a couple ideas for the new studio’s name, but I haven’t settled on one yet.” The man chuckled, accepting the payment the young man handed him.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you in the papers, best of luck to you.”

“Thanks mate, I may need it.” Harry waved as the cab drove off, leaving Harry in front of his new “business venture”. He drew in and steadying breath, and turned to face the old studio. And cringed at the sight of it.

Joey Drew Studios was… Even more run-down and decrepit than Harry had been led to believe.

Even before it had been a studio, the old building had been a mill of some kind, meaning it had thick walls, a sturdy foundation and lots of floors to be filled with people and equipment. Based on the floor plans Harry had seen, the main building was filled with cramped, crisscrossing hallways, scattered rooms of varying sizes and ventilation, and large bay windows that would have let in a wonderful amount of sunshine during the days. It wasn’t a conventional building for an animation studio, but it obviously worked none the less.

Now, however, many of the once beautiful windows were either broken or boarded up or both preventing even the smallest amount of light inside the old building, the sturdy wood and plaster walls were covered in unidentifiable stains and graphity that had been accumulated throughout the years of disuse, the metal fire escape and rain spouts (along with every other piece of metal that had been left exposed to the elements) were so thoroughly covered in accumulated rust, it was a wonder they hadn’t just disintegrated by now. It was painfully obvious that they would need immediate replacement. The old building looked somewhere between haunted and condemned.

But he wasn’t going to back now. Not when he’d already come this far. From what Harry had managed to dig up before coming in person, it had taken years before Joey Drew had lost finally his rights to the studio. According to the accountants and Real-estate workers, there had been a sizable backlog of letter, inquires, old bills, and legal notices that had never reached Drew himself. They had apparently just built up in the post office until finally someone dragged themselves to his residence and found he wasn’t there anymore. And that wasn’t the weird part.

Apparently, back in the early Sixties, Drew had made some… Questionable business and construction discussions. Many of which hadn’t made any sense then, and even less in the modern day. Especially since he had filed for bankruptcy part way through his strange construction and ordering spree. Large orders of piping, wood, various building and construction equipment, gallons of rubber ink (enough to fill an Olympic swimming pool), multiple fire axes, random reels that were actually too big to fit in projectors, a large number of stone bowls, a couple knives, and enough candles to light a small stadium.

The last few reminded Harry of ritual supplies, but that could have been his paranoia talking. Even if he was doing rituals, his access to the proper texts would have been limited at best as Drew had been a muggle. (Merlin, he hoped the man hadn’t gotten any real books of magic. That would be so much paperwork for him)

In the mid Seventies, the entire studio collapsed. But not under normal circumstances. The entire cast and crew of Joey Drew Studios had just vanished. Almost over night.

The police had, of coarse, gone out to investigate, but found no signs of foul play. Just a particularly odd machine down one corridor that, as far as they could tell, had no tie to the disappearing employees. Not that they had been able to do a full investigation. Large parts of the building had been made inaccessible due to the halls being locked down, boarded up, and generally being difficult to get too. It was eventually deemed a cold case, and left where it was.

Harry was far more wary of the circumstances, he knew better than to underestimate a muggle. If they had managed to create a weapon that could wipe out entire cities, then the chances that they could find a way to use magic wasn’t completely improbable. But without proof of magic being used, the local ministry never investigated. (MASUCA, was the name, if he remembered correctly)

Even then things had been fairly quiet from the studio. There had been plenty of rumors circulating amongst the local youths of the era, claiming that the old studio was haunted. Strange voices from the lower floors, creepy images, and moving cutouts. The kind of “spooky” stories kids would tell each other to make their adventures sound more “Grown-up” instead of them just messing around in some place they shouldn’t have been. Though nothing had happened since the crews’ disappearance, Harry didn’t trust that stay true forever.

Which was why he was there. He was going to give the building a thorough inspection himself, and search it from top to bottom for any Dark magic. He refused to bring anyone into a potentially dangerous place without making sure they couldn’t be hurt by whatever was inside.

The front of the building had a set of large, glass, double doors that had once opened to the building’s lobby but, like the windows, they had been boarded up. They didn’t look as though anyone had tried to pry them open, much to Harry’s relief and ire. He knew that the children had been breaking into the old studio for years, but it looked like they hadn’t tried to go in through the front doors.

“Okay, not the front doors. Let’s try the loading doors then.” The studio had it’s own toy shipping area, and chances were the rust would have made it easier to get the old doors open. Teens weren’t always the most… Graceful when they wanted to force their way into a place. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had broken the rusted doors open just so they could get inside. Harry made his way around the outside of the building, idly examining the paintings on the walls as he went.

Not as much crudeness as I expected, He thought to himself, eyeing the rusted doors. Nothing a quick paint job couldn’t clean up. Outside looks to be in pretty good shape, I have to admit. But it’s the inside that I’m worried about.

The old doors were in surprisingly good shape. Oh, they were rusted to the point of uselessness, but there were no holes or signs of forced entry. Harry quietly approached the locked door, bending closer to examine the old, undoubtedly broken lock.

Now, the question is, is it forever open? Or forever closed? Harry clasped the handle, giving it a firm tug. It rattled in a way that implied it wasn’t rusted in place, yet it was obviously locked. Odd, it seemed in strangely good condition. He frowned thoughtfully. But how have the kids been getting in? Is there a side door that they could have used?

Deciding to check it out, Harry made his way over to the alley between the studio and the building next too it. The alley was strewn with trash, blatantly ignoring the dumpster bin sitting two thirds of the way into the alley. A dumpster that was sitting next to a door into the studio. Harry grinned triumphantly at the door.

Harry quickly approached, noting that the door was partially open.

Shoot, had someone already come in? He hoped not. Harry really didn’t really feel like chasing some kid or haughty teenager out of the studio. Even if it was for their own good.

Opening the door the rest of the way, Harry peered into the gloomy hall. Barely lit by old flickering light bulbs, he couldn’t see anything beyond a few flickering lights further inside.

“Hello? Anyone here?” He called, stepping inside and habitually pulling the door closed behind him. There were some posters hanging on the walls, depicting the little devil darling that the studio was best known for grinning out at him, looking far too cheerful in the gloom. A few paces in, Harry felt his blood freeze at the sudden, ominous creaking that came from the wooden floor beneath him. Slowly, he crept over to the nearest wall, pressing himself against it. The creaking lessened. The wizard let out a shaky breath. “O-okay, note to self: side door floor needs immediate replacement, that did not sound safe. Thank Merlin it didn’t give out under me.”

Bloody stars, if I died from something as mundane as FALLING, Hermy would have resurrected me for the sole-purpose of killing me for doing something so stupid. He smiled slightly at the mental image of Hermione raging at him over such a dumb thing. Harry inched down the hall, listening for when the creaking faded away. He may have been a wizard and a war hero, but he wasn’t immortal. It was better to not risk his neck in the first place. Harry let out a sigh of relief when the creaking finally stopped once he’d reached the end of the hallway. It opened up into a fairly large room, almost like an employee lobby.

The place was covered in old papers, with a counter between two of the supporting beams. An old projector was turned on, creating an eerie tune as it flickered back and forth between some blank reams on an old film reel. A cutout of the company’s mascot, the Devil Darling’ himself, stood next to the empty projection, looking rather creepy in the eerie setting. Three large reels were mounted on the wall, spinning in a loud, clunky manner, yet not actually doing anything (as far as Harry could tell). A light table by the back wall sat next too an old drawing desk, still alight and drawing power from an unknown source (The power had been turned off, that much Harry knew).

“Well, let’s get started then.”

-

So, HUGE word dump here, but once I got stared writing for this, it kinda ran away with me. If enough people say they like this, I might post more. And feel free to send me questions about it. They help me figure out what the hell I’m doing!

Also my italics didn’t work and I am NOT happy about that.

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