Here it is ladies and gents. The first chapter of this adopted story. As you could probably tell with the summary, this is going to be a very different tale from the blood hound. I do not like to use other people's ideas, not without reinventing them or changing them drastically in some fashion. In this case, this is the tale of the blood hound…except not.

Lilith will not be a ghoul, but rather something else…something fiendish…

There will be no Samuel Cain raising her, and dying for her. Oh, don't worry. That guys still exists in the world of this story. But due to separate paths, and different actions taken…well, he ain't gonna be raising our lovable little ball of violence and death. Rather, it will be someone else.

In fact, most of this chapter is dedicated to him…or at least him and his associates. I felt that Samuel Cain did his job. He was the father figure that allowed Lilith to hang onto some semblance of her humanity, as well as giving her, her outlook on life and her morals. He did his job, teaching her how to love.

But at the same time…I felt that his existence was a short one. I hope to do something differently with my take on the bloodhound. I want him to make an impact…but will he survive this story? Or will he go the way of Samuel Cain?

Welcome, one and all, to the story of a girl. A girl with a human heart…wrapped in demon skin.

A Human Heart…Wrapped in Demon skin.

London, a famous place in the world. The capital of Great Britain, and a sprawling metropolis of steel and glass. Constantly evolving and changing as the times progress. But at its heart, London was an ancient city. Not in the sense that it was molding and falling apart, but in the sense that it is a city that has been around for a very, very, very long time.

However, just because it is an old city, one that has withstood the test of time, and grown the better for it, does not mean that all is well in it. Like any leading capital of the world, or any place really, it was a center of business. A center of money. And where money is, lays the sin of greed.

And where sin is…monsters gather.

Not monsters of children's fairy tales. But monsters of men. Men who are monsters, beings that viciously prey on others. And like all monsters, they come out at night. Stalking the concrete streets of this global hub of commerce. Stealing and taking what is not theirs to take. Stealing things that can not be given back. Taking innocence and pouring blood onto the stone walkways that spread out from the metropolis.

Men, woman, and child alike are told to head the warnings of going out at night. But even then, there are those who would foolishly take their chances, and the chances of others, and step out into the darkness of the night. Heedless of the dangers that prowl the alleys. Ignorant of the backdoor deals that occur in the darkness of illicit dens. And deaf to their own instincts screaming at them to run away from that which would bring them to the embrace of mother Nyx.

Vernon Dursley was one such man. A shrewd businessman, and a belligerent bargainer. A man with an encyclopedic knowledge of all things drill related. With an ambitious streak a mile wide, and a ruthless style of business, he had stubbornly climbed the corporate ladder of his workplace. Maliciously shoving all resistance out of the way in his bid to do his job. Even against the better part of his judgement. As long as there is a profit to be made, he would ruthlessly pursue it.

However, while he was an amazing businessman, he was also a foolish man. A very, very foolish man. With a paranormal fear of all things unnatural. Of all things that could not be explained by the perceivable laws of the known world. He feared that which could not be understood, that which was never meant to be understood.

He feared all things eldritch. All things that man was not supposed to mess with, nor come in contact with. He snorted at the very mention of magic, but he feared the comings of life other than human. He was a man that feared the unknown with a fanatical devotion. He dedicated his life to control, to being in control of those around him, and the world around him.

It was what drove him so, to be so ruthless in the world of trade, exchange, and commerce. He had to be in control, to dictate the flow of things. If not, then how could he know what was to come? If he could achieve control of his workplace it would give him the power to influence the world, just that tiny bit…

But alas, it was not meant to be. He lay with his head poking out of his own car. The windshield cracked and broken. His wife's neck bent at an unnatural angle, and their child hanging from his own car seat on the ceiling of the vehicle. Blood dripping from his mouth due to the ruptures inside his body, caused by pure blunt force trauma.

The wrecked car, for that was what it is, was flipped onto its roof. The wreck of five different cars, with the drivers dead in two more of them, and two more needing serious medical care, was a sight caused by pure coincidence.

It was in the middle of the night. A combination of drowsiness, sleep deprivation, and stress was the cause of the incident. And not all of the blame could be lauded onto one person. One was a drunk driver, and another was a man that was high of his rocker. And another was an elderly man suffering from alzeihmers; he believed that he was simply driving his daughter to school.

In the end, all it took was for one driver to slip up and crash into another. Oddly enough, it was the only one that did not have a somewhat decent reason to not be attentive while driving. Texting while driving is quite a well known danger. Doubly so if the act is done during a rain storm. The finishing touch to this picture was the trail of blood being washed away by the rain. Cleansing the asphalt of any, and all evidence of the six year old child slowly crawling away from a broken mirror.

Blood oozed out of various places on this child. But most notably was the stomach area, where shards of glass slowly grinded against the concrete of the alleyway. The child could not move its legs, trauma to the spine prevented it from being so. The child had nothing unusual to differentiate it from the crowd, nothing but its bright green eyes. Its black hair was wet and stuck together, a byproduct of the rain.

Slowly, the child crawled along the floor of the alleyway, desperately searching for anything or anyone to help it. However…desperation only attracts vultures. And in this case, if the child knew what was to come, it would probably have opted to die slowly.

Desperate, trembling hands, pale and clammy, slowly reached out and grabbed a hold of a black leather shoe. This shoe belonged to a man with very, very handsome features. Some would say even angelic, for he was a man that had a face with a beauty that had no rival. This man was dressed in a business suit, necktie and everything. He even had a suitcase in hand.

However, if one was to simply squint their eyes, they would have noticed that not a drop of rain would fall onto the earth around him. As if it recoiled in his presence, and dared not land on him. But why would the rain do such a thing? Why would it not land on this handsome, beautiful man? Why indeed…

"Curious…how very curious." Spoke the man. His voice musical and lovely. As if just with his voice alone was inviting any, and all to hear him. To listen, to believe him. To hear his voice was like being compelled to believe him, even if the recipient hearing the voice knew that the speaker was only whispering lies and promises of power.

However, he only received whimpers of pain from the dying and paralyzed child. The man did not even seem bothered that the child was slowly dragging itself toward him, using his leg as a support. He did not even seem to care about the blood that was being bled onto his black dress pants.

"You should have died in that wreck child. You should not have survived being thrown through a window, nor should you have survived a half mile journey on the ground you have dragged yourself along. Tell me child, what is it that makes you so different from everybody else?" he asked. Not once moving a single muscle.

However, his eyes trailed down and gazed into the desperately pleading ones of the crying child. Mismatched red and blue met bright green for but a second, and then the man understood. A smile then graced the mans lips. And like that, the mans eyes turned malicious.

Gone was the face of an angel, gone was the beautiful man. And in its place was a great darkness. A darkness so veiled and black that it was likened to a void. A place that none could return from without being changed in some form. In the mans place was a monster like no other. A monster that had found just what it was looking for.

Entertainment.

"So you are one of those foolish humans…the stagnant ones. Never changing, never evolving. Drunk on their own power. The sons and daughters of gluttony and sloth." He whispered into the air. The child heard it, but it did not care. All that it did was continue to whimper as pain and agony racked its body. The coldness of the rain seeping into it, slowly bleeding the heat of life out of it.

Casting another glance at the child's eyes the man smiled a horrible smile. One that promised emptiness and misery to all who received it. The death of kinds had followed that smile, just as so many other horrible tragedies had. And like that the man kneeled down, and opened his briefcase.

"Normally I would have offered my regular deal. I get what I want in return for an act of sin. But…I'm feeling generous today. I see potential in you child…potential I seek to invest in."

By now, the child had fallen off of the man's leg. The cold and numbness had overtaken the child's senses. Its eyes desperately went towards the man. Begging, pleading for him to save her.

And then the man pulled something from his briefcase. In shape it was like some kind of parasite. Twitching and shaking in his grasp. The man then turned towards the crying child, paralyzed and lying face down in a pool of its own blood. The man dangled the parasite in front of the child's face that had turned to face him.

"Whether you want it or not you will return to the society that threw you out. It does not matter what your wishes are, for they hold old blood as something precious. They believe that power lie in that which is ancient. It is this belief that has made them grow stagnant, made them grow weak."

And then the man dropped the parasite from his grasp. It fell to the ground…and slowly began to creep towards the dying child.

"Whether or not it is your intent you will change them. Maybe you shall make them into a force for the betterment of humanity…and on the flipside you might just be the cause for their untimely demise. There will be a multitude of paths that you will have the choice to walk."

The parasite had now climbed onto the child's face. Its body was erect and standing upright. The child's eyes were staring into it…as the head of the parasite slowly opened to reveal a circular mouth, full of sharp teeth and hissing faces. The child, barely alive at this point, could barely make out the shape in front of it. It was all but a blur to it.

"I will be watching you Lilith Potter. I believe you will be a very interesting investment to me. However…you will face many people vying for your loyalty. I wonder who you will chose in the end…will it be the family that abandoned you? Or will you chose me? I look forward to how your choices effect the world…"

And like that, the man turned around. And with his back to a child screaming in pain as a parasite burrowed itself though its eyes, the man departed into the shadows of the alleyway.

"Just remember…I am always watching…

"Jesus Christ on a unicycle…how the hell did this happen? And in the middle of the night no less…" spoke the gruff voice of the investigation officer on the scene. The man was in uniform, dark blue suit and necktie, surveying the wreck that had happened in the middle of the night during a rainstorm.

Seven dead and four more injured. A family of three, a drunk couple, a senile old man, and a random pedestrian on the dead end. And on the injured scene was a drunk truck driver, and a couple of illegal animal smugglers trying to bring in…platypuses.

It was rather awkward when he opened the back end of the truck only to see a bunch of animals giving him a thousand yard stare.

…moving on, the officer was currently trying to make heads or tails of whether or not the entire thing was coincidence or set up. There were a few signs of it being done purposefully. Such as the slashed tires of the truck driver's truck, certain parts of the smugglers truck being removed. The smugglers truck could be chalked up to them being really shitty at car maintenance.

But the slashed tires? Obvious foul play right there. The only problem with that was that he had no leads or anything pointing to any kind of suspect. So for the time being he had to wait for the identities of the dead to come in before he could really do anything…

Or he could just look through the wallet of the fat bastard that had gotten shoved through his own window. Poor fellow had multiple lacerations all over his face, with bits and pieces of glass sticking out of his limp body.

Looks like the guy had his face dragged along the concrete if the mangled skin was anything to go by. The female occupant of the car was slammed against the roof of the car by her neck. Ouch, that had to hurt. Well she's dead now so it didn't matter much. The kid in the back though? He was shoved around so much his organs and bones broke and snapped. He ended up bleeding internally.

Damn, if there was one thing the investigator hated to see it was a dead kid on any scene. Whether it be crime or accident. He had already looked at the old man. Death by heart attack, too much action he supposed? Old man was supposed to be on life support at the hospice care from what he was told by his partner.

The drunk couple that died? Death by alcohol. They were apparently drinking while driving, even though they were already drunk. Coupled with suddenly being jerked around by a car wreck, is it really any wonder that they died? Well, he would let the autopsy tell him the specifics.

Then again he might not. Seeing his colleague talk to dead bodies and make jokes about them was pretty creepy. Then again he had nothing on his doctor…

Seriously, doctors have probably the blackest sense of humor. Zorro-bellies, crispy-critters, GOMERs, frequent fliers...medical slang is downright grim dark as fuck.

The terms mean, respectively, a patient whose abdomen is covered in surgical scars, a horribly burned patient, "Get Out of My ER" for a bothersome patient who wants attention, and a patient who is in and out of the ED all the time.

He was cut off from his musings when he fished out the I.D of the man with his head stuck outside his own car window. "Vernon Dursley…the drill guy that Mary was complaining about? Well, there's a place to start…"

He could already sense that this case was going to be annoying. An old man that was driving when he wasn't supposed to be, animal smugglers, drunk drivers, a dead family, and a business man known in circles for being obstinate and stubborn.

"First let's check in with whatever we got on these people, then weed out the suspects if there are any…"

"Hey Phelps!" called a voice from behind. The man now identified as Phelps turned around and saw his partner walking up, after having dodged around a police officer that was trying to drive away a stubborn reporter.

"Found anything interesting?" the man in the black suite asked. His eyes shifting over to the corpse of Vernon Dursley. "Christ on a bike…" the man muttered. Earning a chuckle from Phelps as the man handed his partner the dead man's I.D.

Running his gaze over the Identity card, the man raised an eyebrow. "Vernon Dursley? Isn't that the guy that my sister was complaining about at dinner yesterday? Something about breaking off a deal to make a better one with a different company or something like that? Kinda weird that he winds up dead the next day dontch'a think?"

"Was thinking something along those lines. Call up the boys back at the station and see where this man lives. Might be able to find something at his house."

"Gotch'a…oh, and Phelps?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm driving this time. Did you even pass driving school? How the hell did you even get a license?"

At that, the Investigator named Phelps smiled. "I left him speechless with how good I was."

The man's partner glowered at that. "Or maybe he was just scared of how terrible you were."

"Nah, I don't think so Connors. If he had a problem with my driving I'm pretty sure he would have said something."

At that Connors only sent a deadpan stare towards his partner. "I call bullshit on that."

At that, Phelps only shrugged. "Whatever you say."

And like that, the two of them made their way back towards their car. They had an investigation to do.

Coming up to Number four private drive in Surrey, one of the counties of London, Phelps could immediately tell that there was something off about the place. For one, all the houses were the same. No style, no individuality. It was almost scary just how…organized each house was.

That same irritating brown-peach color, white picket fence, and perfectly organized lawns. It was rather eerie to the detective. And his partner had no qualms with voicing his thoughts.

"What is it? Bland Tuesday? Seriously Phelps, this neighborhood is…there's just something wrong about it. Like the people here have an obsession with being normal or something. It's like the people here are stuck in the 50's."

Getting out of the car, Phelps squinted around at the neighborhood. Spotting an old lady staring at him from behind a window, he waved towards her. And in response he received a shutting of the blinds.

Connors came out of the car and followed Phelps gaze. A silent nod from the man's partner told Phelps all he needed to know. With that, he took off and began to walk toward the house while his partner went and began to ask around the neighborhood.

Walking up the stone steps Phelps began to note certain things. Like of how well cared for the flowers were. The soil was a nice dark color, water from the rain soaking in. the bushes were trimmed and neat, much more so than the rest of the neighborhood. In fact, it looked like the lawn was mowed just yesterday.

Despite the eeriness of the situation, Phelps couldn't help but applaud whoever had worked on the lawn. And then he immediately filed that fact away as something to be noted.

Coming up to the door, Phelps's eyes were immediately drawn to the doormat in front of him. Intuition kicked in, and he pulled the mat up. Revealing the spare key. Taking the key, he unlocked the door, and walked inside.

His first observation was that the house smelled like perfection. As in someone went to town with an air refreshener. It smelled like someone was absolutely obsessed with having a nice house, even when there was no one in it.

He suspected the wife. No way in hell was Vernon responsible for carrying after the house. He had seen his corpse. And the man qualified as a beached whale.

The first thing he did was begin to walk down the hallway, observing all of the pictures of the Dursley family. Throughout it all, Phelps noted that being fat seemed to run in the family. If the Husband, child, and family relative that seemed to pop up in a picture now and then (she was a really fat lady) was any indication.

Being fat used to mean that one had a lot of wealth once upon a time. Nowadays it's different. But if there was one thing Phelps noted was that the family seemed very well off. Almost to the point of suspicion…scratch that. One man providing for his family and they're this well off? Something's up with that, and if Phelps was anything now, it was interested.

His small tour through the life and times of the Dursley family over, Phelps took a walk through the kitchen. Completely spotless, even the tile floor. As if was mopped yesterday. And all of the silverware was nice and shiny, even the plates were spotless!

Honestly it was beginning to scare the detective with how…orderly and clean everything so far was. Shaking off a chill that ran up his spine, the disturbed detective journeyed up the stairs. Noting that, once again, something was spotless and clean. Specifically, the rail guard. The one at his house was covered in dust, probably because he never really used the second floor of his house. So this minor detail really began to prick at him for a moment.

Shaking his unease off, the man continued up the stairs, and stepped foot on the second floor of the house. There were more pictures on the all; these ones were more in the past however. The pictures were older, more tattered. And there was less color. Most of them were of a couple, the recently deceased Mr. and Mrs. Dursley it would seem.

Taking a left, Phelps came to the first room that he was going to open in the house. And the moment it swung open the detective breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that there was at least one room in the entire house that wasn't clean.

He was beginning to feel a bit self conscious there for a moment.

It was obviously the child of the family's room. It was an absolute pigsty. Toys everywhere! Out of baskets, all over the carpet, on top of the…bed? Why wasn't there a bed in this room?

Shaking his head, Phelps realized that this wasn't the kids' room. Well, not his bedroom. Rather, it would seem that the Dursley's were well off enough to have their kid get his very own playroom. Something that really made the metaphorical detective itch get really…itchy for lack of a better word.

Closing the door, the detective moved down the hallway. There was nothing else on the left side of the hallway besides the bathroom. Taking a quick glance around, and noting that once again, the hallway was perfectly clean. Really clean…like the rest of the house so far…besides the play room.

The first room at the end of the hallway on the right side did in fact turn out to be the kid's bedroom. And it would seem that the cleanliness of the house could only be erased by the dead kid, because his room was nothing short of a mess.

Seriously, who leaved their own clothes all over the room? Clean clothes at that. Those ones had very little wrinkles. And there were broken toys everywhere! There was one there, and there, and…is that a broken TV? What the hell? Vernon made enough money to get his own kid a TV? A TV that the kid was willing to brake.

With all that he had seen so far, the detective came to the conclusion that the Dursleys were really bad parents. And that they probably spoiled the kid.

Shaking his head, the man left the room, and entered the one directly opposite of it across the hallway. The master bedroom of the entire house was nothing to write home about. The only thing of note was the book on the nightstand by the bed.

Walking over to it, the detective flipped through it. Reading through the entries of the book. It only took one glance to realize that the book was a diary belonging to the wife of Vernon Dursley.

However, as the detective read through the various entries, his eyes began to narrow. His lips pursed themselves, and a curious glint entered his eyes. He then put the dairy into his coat pocket. What with it being about 40 degrees outside, it was perfectly normal. With purpose in mind, the man began to walk back into the hallway, looking towards the ceiling.

Finding what he was looking for, the man pulled down the fold up staircase to the attic, and climbed up into it. Pulling out his flashlight, the detective pointed this way and that, searching for one specific box. Eventually he found it, buried beneath a few other boxes that were surprisingly light.

Opening it up, he began to pick through it. Eventually, he found it. A smaller box wrapped up in a casing, as he moved it the inside rattled. Opening the box up, he pulled out a deck of cards.

Slowly, and carefully, he took two cards from the deck. He then set one card on the ground, while carefully holding another. He used his other hand to shine his flashlight down on the black ace of clubs card.

And then with, taking a deep breath, the detective slammed the card in his hand down onto the other card. The moment the impact happened, a large *Bang* resounded throughout the entire attic. The man was visibly startled; as if he was trying to wrap his head around how simply slamming two cards together could create a noise not so dissimilar to a cannonball firing.

A grimace made its way onto the detective's face. "…Well crap. I never wanted to deal with shit like this again…" the man muttered under his breath.

Acting fast, the man put the cards back into the deck, which he put back into its box, and then put that box into a larger box, and the climbed back down the stairs with said box. The man then grabbed the box, having to wrap his hands around the bottom because it was falling apart, and walked down the stairs.

The good detective then sat the box down by the door, and whipped out his flashlight. Slowly, he began to walk towards the cupboard in the first hallway he walked down. How he missed it he didn't know. In hindsight, he probably should have been paying better attention to his surroundings, but if he didn't, he probably wouldn't have found the diary upstairs.

Slowly, he reached towards the door of the cupboard. His eyes roaming over the various locks and chains on top of the cupboard door. As if the family was trying to keep something…something they were afraid of.

He then opened the door…and had his worst fears confirmed by the blood covered blankets and walls. There were obvious scratch marks all over the cramped walls of the cupboard, as if whatever was locked inside had tried to claw its way out.

The next thing to happen would be that the detective ran out of the house like a bat out of hell, gunning towards his car. He passed by Connor in the process as he reached inside of the vehicle and grabbed the Com.

"Whoa! What's going on? Did you find something?" the man asked as he saddled up right next to his partner. Said partner only pointed towards the open door of the Dursley residence. "Look inside the open cupboard if you want to have an idea! And grab the box while you're at it!" the man yelled as his partner ran towards the house to see what was all the hubbub.

About twenty seconds later, that same man would be seen running out of the house, a scowl and angry snarl on his face, carrying a box of knickknacks that had been collected over the years. The box was loaded up into the back of the police car. Said car would then take off like lightning towards the scene of the wreck.

Ten minutes later, an entire team of investigators would show up at the Dursley residence. Tape making a parameter around the place, and limiting access to the household save for people with actual business going on there.

The detective duo made their way back towards the site of the crash, which had been cleaned up by now, in the hopes of finding something to lead them towards the missing child that had been…living with the Dursleys.

They did find something. Claw marks, and drag tracks. Like someone had been pulling themselves through the much, trying to get to shelter or something. Mixed into the mud and grass they found droplets of dried blood.

It was all the proof that Phelps needed to know that there might be a chance that the girl was still alive. Improbable as it was.

The only thing that was unexpected? Following the trail towards an alleyway completely swamped by police cars. That and…

"Is that the boss lady? What the hell is she doing out here?" gawked at the scene as they pulled up right next to another police car, sirens silent, and lights blaring and shining.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Phelps narrowed his eyes. "I think the better question is, what's so bad that she had to personally come out here and see it herself?"

"Hell if I know…heads up, we got company." The detective replied. An officer was approaching the duo, his face was oddly grim, and slightly pale. Whatever it was that he saw in the alleyway, it wasn't pretty.

The two investigators raised their hands in greeting, something the officer responded with by nodding to the pair. "Boss was about to call you out here. She wants to see you." He said with all the serious possible by an officer of the law.

"She wants to see us? Two regular average Joe detectives?" Phelps asked with a raised eyebrow. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw about four officers setting up a yellow tape line to keep people out.

There was an unusual seriousness in the air, as if some kind of tragedy had happened. What happened, the duo had no clue. But they would soon enough.

The officer in front of the duo just shrugged. "Don't know. All that she said was that Phelps would be the only one who could make heads or tails of what happened." He then gave a pointed look towards the investigator in question with a doubting stare. "Not that I have anything against you, but I don't see what makes you a better option. You're involved in auto, not what this is."

"And this is…?" asked Connors with a pointed look.

"Homicide." Replied the officer.

There was a silence. An eerie one that went uninterrupted. But eventually, the ice was broken. "I'm sorry…but what? I don't have the qualifications to even touch a homicide case, much less actually take part in one!"

"No offense, but are you sure the boss lady is in the write head at the moment?" asked Connors with a frown. He too was just as confused as his partner. The Boss Lady never assigned anyone to a case they didn't have the qualifications or experience with. Bringing in someone whose specialty is dealing with auto related incidents, and ragging them onto what might be a homicide was not something that she would do.

And yet, according to this officer she had asked for Phelps, the new guy on the force, to jump onto the bandwagon.

A partnership of two months, and the two were already a decent seam, and friends as well. It helped that Phelps was nice to his partner's sister. Damn, that man get overprotective of her.

The officer scowled and pointed his thumb towards the alleyway. "Look, I'm just the messenger. Don't know why the chief wants you in on this, but she's got to have a reason. She always does. Take it up with her if you have a problem with it."

And then the officer left. His target an annoying reporter that was trying to sneak around the yellow tape.

Well partner…let's go see just what the boss lady wants." He said while beginning to step forward towards the alleyway, the man's fellow investigator following his lead.

After squirming around a few officers, they were greeted by the sight of the police chief standing with her back towards them. A white fur coat around her, it was her trademark clothing of choice. She was never seen without it.

Her red hair, more of a dark red color than light red, flowed down her shoulders and stopped at her back. She then turned to face them, showing one visible blue eye, the other covered by her dark red hair. Her face was set into a grim frown. She was obviously not pleased with the situation.

While Connors eyes drifted up and down his boss's rather nice figure (especially the legs, thank you skirts!) Phelps was staring at her, obviously not sure what to do.

"Detective Phelps? I believe you may be able to shed a little light on this situation." She spoke, her voice even and stern. This was a woman that did not care for dilly-dallying. She wanted answers, results, and resolutions, and she wanted them fast.

"Ma'am…I hardly believe I'm qualified to deal with this kind of work…" he muttered, his eyes going anywhere but his boss's.

Sad women raised a simple eyebrow. "Funny. You're transfer papers said otherwise. It said you have experience with…unconventional cases." She said, her lips betraying a small smirk. The man stiffened at the admittance, and then narrowed his eyes.

"Is this one of…those…kinds of…murders?" he asked, his voice fumbling the question. His partner turned to him to give him a 'really?' look. Phelps replied with a 'what can you do?' shift in body language, raised arms and awkward smile and all.

The police chief only pointed her thumb towards the rest of the alleyway behind her. "Go on and look and tell me what you think. Just a warning, it ain't pretty. In fact…why doesn't dipstick here stay back while you go and look at the victim?"

Connors only frowned and kicked the asphalt beneath him. Muttering things like "It was only one time…" and "I knew that name was going to stick…"

Phelps however, only nodded his head and walked past the police chief. Said police chief stayed back and looked pointedly at Connors, who was looking left and right, obviously not comfortable with the awkward tension in the air.

"So…" the detective began, trying to at least fish for something to know what was going on. "What's makes Phelps more qualified to do this kind of stuff than someone like Steven? Isn't that the guy the up and coming star of the Homicide division?"

The police chief only looked pointedly at the man. "Takami Phelps has had previous experience with multiple cases like this one. In fact, he was the one who tracked down a killer that used the method this murderer used before his transfer to England. I just simply felt that a case, according to the files I got from Tokyo, that is very similar to the ones he dealt with before would probably be better suited to having him around on."

Connors blinked at that. And then began to scratch his head. "What a minute…he's used to doing homicide, yet he jumped down to auto? Why would he do that? I mean, I knew the guy was from Japan, but I didn't know he dealt with murderers before."

The police chief only shook her head. "Dealing with homicide…not everyone can do it. Dealing with dead bodies, and those that commit murder? It can change a person. I think Phelps just wanted to get away from it all before he became a different person. It's largely the reason why I've steered you two away from murder cases."

A wistful sight escaped the woman's lips. It stayed that way before she reached into her coat and pulled a cigarette. Connors, seeing this, groaned. "Really boss lady? Really? You know how bad those can be…" he chastised. He resisted the urge to slap his face, and succeeded.

The police chief only rolled her eyes. Yes, true, they were bad for her health. But she could quit anytime she wanted. She had done it before…and only returned to using them after she had gotten her job as police chief.

It would be five minute later, that a tired and scowling Phelps would walk out of the alleyway. Connors, seeing his partner, brightened up a bit. "And the verdict is…?" he asked, his arms folded as he leaned up against the wall of the alleyway.

Phelps only looked more agitated at the question. "Complete and utter amateur work. They didn't know what they were doing and paid the price. We got a trail." He said with a tired air about him, as if he had relived something he didn't want to see very again.

The police chief raised her eyebrows at that. "Oh? And where would it lead?" she asked. Curious as to just where the case was going.

"Nyx's bar. Gotta be there at night to enter." He said with a tired sigh. Connors, seeing this walked over and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay mate? Do we need to stop somewhere or something? Maybe an ibuprofen or something?"

Phelps however, brushed the hand off. "It's fine, just having some rather bad flashbacks."

Connors seemed to accept that. However, he did turn around and stare at the back of the alleyway, which was now being blocked by the police chief. "Damn…" he muttered. "Now I'm really curious."

"Don't. It's pretty damn gruesome." The man warned.

"Curious…I've never heard of Nyx's bar. And why can you only go into it at night?" asked the police chief with narrowed eyes. Connors gave his partner a questioning look as well, having never heard of any bar by that name either.

"Special place, members only. Really hush hush, can't find it unless shown." The man explained while folding his arms.

"Is it just really well hidden, or is it some kind of underground kind of thing?" asked the man's curious partner. Eyebrows raised and a perused lips pointed towards Phelps.

"Nah, just really tight security. They don't like it when someone blabs about the location. That, and it changes every now and then."

That caught the police chief's attention. "A mobile bar that only has a select few patrons? Sounds rather odd doesn't it?" she interjected. A calculating look on her face. Phelps saw the look she was shooting him and put his hands in his pocket.

"Same thing I said when I first heard about it. But hey, it's not so bad once you get used to going there. It's just that the owner is filthy stinking rich. That and unusually helpful to her patrons."

At that, the other two nodded. And then the police chief fixed her gaze at Phelps's eyes and held it. "You know what you need to do. Find out who did this. I don't care how, just do it. If you can find out what caused this I might end up pushing some more…strange cases like this one your way."

And with that said, she turned around and left the alleyway. As the woman walked away, Connors kept his eyes trained on her. It was when she left that Connors turned to face his partner with a grin. "Mate, I hate to see her go. But I love to watch her walk away."

Phelps snorted at his partner, but didn't say anything that disagreed with his partners statement. He too kept his eyes on the woman's behind as she left. The man was then brought out of his funk when Connors put an arm around his shoulder.

"So…where to first? Because I have honestly no idea what to do next."

At that, Phelps only slid his partners arm off of his shoulder and began to walk towards their car. "First, we need to stop by my house."

"What? Forget something?"

Phelps shook his head. "Nah, just need to grab my gun…and some special ammo."

Connors sent Phelps a queer look. "…Are we hunting someone down or killing them?"

Phelps only shook his head as the duo began to approach their car. "…We just might need some form of weaponry when we visit the bar for information. It's not the nicest of places."

"You didn't answer the question Phelps." Connors pointed out as he dropped the cigarette out of his mouth and littered.

Phelps opened the car door and looked at his partner. "…We're not hunting anyone. We're hunting a monster."

Connors looked bewildered for a moment. Then composed himself. "A human monster then…huh. I thought it was going to be a wild beast or something like that…"

A couple of seconds later, and a police car left the scene. Leaving behind a crime scene to be picked up by the rest of the force…and an onlooker sitting on the roof.

"See? All you had to do was slaughter them and devour the raw emotion that came from their fear. It's places like gambling dens and brothels where we can get the most Magatsuhi. Places ripe with sin." Spoke a giggling voice that was feminine in origin.

The being the voice emanated from was not a creature many would be intimidated by. It had a small body, red hair, and was wearing a blue leotard and boots. Fairy wings sprouted from its back as it sat on the shoulders of a strange looking child.

The child in question was shirtless, and female. Black tribal marks littered her body and trailed down her arms and legs, ending at the ends of her toes and fingers respectively. They even covered her face to a degree. Most notable of the strange child however, were three different physical characteristics of her.

The black horn sprouting from the back of her neck was one. The second most notable, and the thing that would draw the most stares, would be the green glow that went alongside the black tribal markings. However, the glow wasn't purely green. It was more of a blue-green color. And finally, the 3rd otherworldly characteristic of the child was its glowing amber colored eyes.

The child sat at the top of a building near an alleyway that a man in a suit had just walked out of, her legs dangling over the edge of the building. A small crease found its way onto the strange child's face as she turned to face the fairy sitting on her shoulder.

"Did I really do all that? Kill those people I mean…I…I think I should feel something for them…but I don't." the child admitted with a frown. As the child was twiddling her thumbs in contemplation, the fairy only looked bemused by her current companion.

"It's probably because you were still adjusting to being a half demon or something. But I still don't get why you would feel bad about killing them. Humans die all the time, and it's not like they didn't deserve it. I mean, just take a look at all the Magatsuhi you got from them! All of it was the flavor of greed and lust. They probably deserved it in the end." The fairy said while standing on the half-demon's shoulder and poking its nose.

"You have a point there…even if I can barely understand what's going on at the moment. Do you know where I can sleep? I don't want to go back to Mr. Cupboard or sleep in an alley again…" asked the child with what seemed to be the eyes of a waif. Woe betide anyone able to deny that gaze.

The fairy looked amused at the strange child before standing up on her shoulder. the fairy snapped its fingers a few times and clicked it's stiletto boot against the Childs shoulder, making a clapping sound. Oddly enough, the child seemed just fine and didn't look any bit perturbed by the incredibly sharp stiletto boots point tapping against her skin.

The fairy's eyes brightened up after it snapped one more time. "There!" it said, turning around to point at another direction off in the distance towards a cathedral building. "I can sense a lot of anguish and lust in that direction!" the fairy exclaimed.

The child only tilted its head slightly, its face marred by confusion. "A church? Why would people be sad there? I thought it was a place to worship god or something?"

The fairy snickered at that admission. "Ah. So naive. Well…if do you want me to explain it in the short version, or the long version?"

The child looked at the fairy oddly for a second before answering. "The short version. I'm getting sleepy."

"Welp, let's put it this way. The altar boys are really going to need counseling after tonight."

"…I don't get it." she replied, her voice incredibly cute and innocent for someone who had just bathed in the blood of humans.

"Oh you are just so precious! I'm going to enjoy corrupting you!" the fairy snickered.

And like that, the duo set off for church…

And by the time the Sunday morning came around three priests and six children were found eviscerated and ripped to pieces in the underground storage room.

Lilith didn't really get much screen time did she? But hey, She's going to get more next time.

As everyone can see, we have the SMT verse and the Potterverse in the same plain of existence. But don't worry, most of the SMT stuff happen in Japan…things like the Persona games, Catherine, the war for the throne of bel, all of those are going to take place in japan. Stevens around…somewhere. And the conception has already happened. I'm going with my copy of Nocturne, which means Dante helped Naoki kick Kagusutchi's ass.

Which also means the Devil May Cry universe exists in this story as well. Just for shits and giggles I'm going to say that Raidou was there as well. As well as the Super Pixie (you don't need to go full demon ending to get her). So the party that fought Kagutsuchi was (in my headcannon) Dante, Raidou, Naoki, and the Super Fairy.

Shiva? Belzeebub? Metatron? Get the fuck outa here!

I'm going to try and stick to English myths and legends in terms of demons that Lilith is going to use. As well as European folktales and Norse legends as well. If anyone knows any other myths and legends besides the general Arthurian legend, and Shakespeare in general, it would be much appreciated. If you want to give me ideas about what demons to give her then tell me the legend or folktale behind said demon. That is if you want to, I don't like demanding people do things for me for no reason.

Just don't ask for mara. Just…don't…

And thus…part one of the prologue is complete. This prologue, the basic set up before we get to pre-Hogwarts, is going to be two to three parts.

Like it? Hate it? Tell me what you think.

AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE!

CUE THE AIRHORNS!

BABABABWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!