AU, 1920's. Demons? Set in a world where the common man doesn't know magic exists, going about their mundane lives without a care in the world, oblivious to the magical going-on's in back alleys and graveyards.
And the one man waging war against demon, cultists and wannabe witches? Harry Potter: Paranormal Investigator. He's in his 30's, smokes like a chimney, is often seen in a trench coat and never without an unimpressed scowl on his grizzled face. He runs a Paranormal Investigations office in a crummy, run-down flat in London, which ordinary people often mistake for a regular Private Investigator.
Harry has solved countless occult and paranormal related crimes, all without gaining the attention of the greater public, just how he liked it. The only people who knew of his life were his best mate, Ron, and his wife, Hermione, so when Hermione came to him at a friends' request, Harry didn't hesitate to lend his assistance and agreed to meet Hermione's new friend.
Harry didn't know what to expect when Hermione's friend entered his office, he secretly didn't expect her to take his work seriously, thinking it fiction or make believe. But Hermione wouldn't have told her friend Harry's secret occupation and revealed the location of his office if she didn't trust her, so Harry decided to give her a listen.
What he didn't expect was the most beautiful doll in the world to walk into his office at midnight. Clad in a black dress, gloves and hat, a long cigarette in her hand. She batted her eyes before speaking, her voice melodic and enchanting;
"Say Monsieur Potter, I 'eard from 'ermione 'zat you are 'ze cat's miaow, and 'zat you are 'ze man to go to when you encounter... strange ongoings?" Her dazzling eyes drew him in as she drew out a puff of smoke. "Can you 'elp me, Monsieur?"
When Harry agreed to help her, he didn't know what he was getting himself into, nor did he recognize her as something else than an ordinary dame.