Title: Deal with the Devil
Summary: Promising the devil his soul in exchange for revenge on the Death Eaters is one of the easiest deals Harry's ever made. Tomarry. BlackButler inspired AU. DARK.
AO3 Summary:
Harry's only eight when his family is brutally murdered and he's kidnapped by their killers. In an act of desperation, Harry summons a devil and makes a contract with him. In exchange for his soul, Tom Riddle will help him avenge his family. Ten years later, the Queen gives Harry a case on missing wizarding children, the facts of which are eerily similar to his own ten years ago. As he continues to investigate, more and more secrets come out into the light and in the end, it starts to become clear that the only one on his side just might be Tom. Tomarry. BlackButler inspired AU. DARK.
A/N: Hi, I'm so excited to share this! I got the idea for this and literally couldn't do anything else but sit down and write it, because Tom fits being a devil SO well, and if you know Black Butler, imagining Tom = Sebastian was SO easy? Though of course, they won't act the same considering Tom's much more snarky and not as nice, and you really don't need to have any knowledge of Black Butler besides the fact that it's about a boy who makes a contract with a devil and said devil stays by boy's side and helps him accomplish all his goals. I also wanted to write a story with lots of mystery in it, so I'm so very excited to get to the later chapters with all the plot twists. Also, treat Tom Riddle = separate entity as Voldemort.
Chapter 1
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Eight-year-old Harry laughs with delight as his magic floats the leaves he's been practicing with for the past hour. "Look Neville!" he says, "It's finally worked."
"Wow," says Neville, looking up from where he had been studying a plant closely. "And it only took you an hour, Harry! Imagine what it'll be like if you had a real wand."
Harry grins, closing his fist and watching as the leaves fall back down. "I can teach you," he offers, and Neville shakes his head.
"I haven't even shown signs of magic yet," he says, looking dejected. "What if I'm a squib?"
"You won't be," says Harry, confident, and Neville smiles at him.
The peaceful moment is ruined when cracks sound through the air. In seconds, there are men in tall, black coats with their faces covered by a porcelain masks that all look the same.
Harry stares at them, knowing immediately that these are the bad men that his parents have been running from since he was little. Neville seems to catch on as well, and they scramble to get behind the chairs in order to hide. How had they even gotten past the wards? Longbottom Manor was unplottable.
"Get those set up," says a man with a deep voice. Two men rush to do his bidding, crouching and placing down things that look like stones onto the ground. Immediately, the air is stripped by magic, and Harry has to stifle a gasp at the effects of the stones, falling heavily into Neville's side. It hurts, and it takes all he can do not to start crying at the intensity of it all.
Three men walk forward after the stones are put into place, and Harry watches in horror as they all raise their wands in unison. Fire starts to stream from their wands, appearing with a roaring, billowing noise and a snake appears out of one of the flames, setting Longbottom Mansion ablaze.
"Grandmother's in there," says Neville, his voice shaking in terror. "And your parents."
Harry can't respond because he's choked up from both the lack of magic in the air and the horror that is the burning mansion. The flames flicker in front of him, and he can hear the shouts of horror from the people inside. He can hear them screaming the incantation for water and yet nothing happening.
"And look what we have here," comes a male voice and Harry winces when strong hands grasp the sides of his shoulders. He's lifted high up, and he doesn't even struggle, his eyes not leaving the burning mansion. He wishes he wasn't only eight and without a wand, wishes that he could do something to save the people in there.
He barely registers Neville getting taken too. Angry, hot tears stream down his face, and he glares defiantly up at the Death Eater who comes to stand in front of him. The porcelain mask is even more terrifying up close, and Harry loses track of time of how long the Death Eater stares at him.
"Take him," the man finally says. "Leave the other. He's practically a squib anyway."
Neville gives a cry of outrage at that, but Harry feels dizzy from the lack of magic and the tight grip that the man still has on him. When they place a cloth over his mouth to knock him out, Harry's last sight is of Neville getting thrown back after trying his best to attack the men holding Harry.
He doesn't know where his parents are.
He's been kept in a prison for the past day, without any food or water. He's parched from both crying and screaming in horror and he's not quite sure what's going to happen to him now that he's been essentially kidnapped.
Only Neville knows what's happened and Harry doesn't even know if Neville is still alive.
It's a chilling realization to know that no one is coming for him.
He's lost track of time when they finally come.
Pain bleeds into his life and time starts to tick by overwhelmingly slowly.
He spends more time unconscious than awake, and it's only when he jolts upright by a different kind of pain that he realizes something is wrong.
Flames are flickering around him. There's the smell of burning flesh, but he still can't see, his eyes rendered useless by the constant blindfolding and withholding of light. He turns his head this way and that, and flinches away when a strong grip grasps his chin.
"Are you finally here to kill me?" he asks, his voice trembling, and there's a sound of amusement from above him.
"Is that why you summoned me?" asks a male voice. "If all you wanted was death, then I assure you, there are much easier ways."
"I summoned you?" he asks in disbelief, and now the man is definitely amused.
"Yes. Is there anything you want before I grant you your wish?"
"I don't want to die!" he gets out in a panic, and the man pauses, his hand falling away from Harry's chin.
"Then what do you want? I am not a very patient devil, little one."
He summoned a devil? The devil seems to notice his shock because in seconds, there's a softly glowing ball of light floating above the devil's right hand. When Harry's eyes finally adjust, his mouth drops open in surprise at the sight of the devil in front of him. He has tall devil-like wings behind him and his eyes are an intense red in a shape of a cat's. He's unbearably handsome even dressed in clothes that resemble black fire and with the light revealing his sharp unhumanlike teeth. He's unlike anything Harry's ever seen before and looks like a product of his own nightmares.
Harry rears back in surprise, and the devil grins, his sharp teeth even more prominent. "Do I scare you, little one?" He pauses, tilting his head to the side and sniffing once or twice noticeably before his grin grows. "Your suffering has made your soul delicious. I'll only ask once; will you like to form a contract with me?"
He's been warned about these devils before. They're beings that thirst after mortals' souls, especially those of mortals who have suffered greatly. In return for a wish granted, the devil will get his soul for eternity. If he accepts, he would no longer be able to see the pearly gates of heaven.
But his parents were burned alive and he's still being tortured by their killers. This devil is his only way out. If he dies now…he'll never be able to get revenge.
"Yes," he says, and the devil's smile grows.
"Then tilt your head back," he says, and when Harry obeys, the devil's palm covers his eyes. Sharp, intense pain begins in his right eye. When he's finally able to open his eyes again, he knows already that the symbol, a spinning star enveloped by a circle, of the contract must be on his now purple eye. The devil has a similar symbol, spinning on the back of his left hand.
"And now, little one," says the devil. "What is your order?"
"Kill them," he says, and the devil obeys.
When it's over, they're still surrounded by flickering flames. The devil's unmarred, having taken them all down easily, and he's standing there in front of Harry, a serene look on his face. The smell of death is strong in the air, and Harry chokes on it, tears watering in his eyes. He stumbles, unable to keep standing any longer, and the devil catches him easily, hoisting him up so that Harry is now safely in his arms.
He falls apart, knowing the devil will now keep him safe, and sobs into the devil's chest. The devil doesn't say a word, and Harry doesn't know how long he cries. There's just too many things to be sorry about – his parents' burning, Neville's unknown whereabouts, and even these kidnappers' deaths. He never wanted to be part of this.
Finally, he's calm enough to speak, and his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Please," he begs, the tall, flickering flames reflected in his green and purple eyes. "Take it all away."
The devil blinks, his tall wings folded neatly behind him and his sharp teeth glinting when he opens his mouth to respond. "You'll forget your magic," the devil says.
"I don't care," says Harry. "I can't – this isn't –" he stammers as he tries to think up a response that could detail the extreme horror he had felt after his parents had been burned alive and then realizes he really couldn't.
"Okay," says the devil, rather mercifully cutting him off.
"Thank you," says Harry, and closes his eyes. The devil covers Harry's eyes with the hand marked with a symbol of their contract, his flesh searing hot. He winces, and the devil sounds apologetic.
"This will hurt," the devil warns, and Harry screams when the devil envelops them with his wings.
When he next opens his eyes, they're far away from the burning mansion. They're in the woods, in a clearing flooded with moonlight, and Harry's head hurts when he raises his eyes to look into the devil's.
"What do I call you?" he asks, and a look of amusement crosses the devil's face.
"The last time I came to the mortal realm, I was called Tom Riddle," says the devil.
"Okay," Harry says, and then he holds out his hand to the devil. "Take me home then, Tom Riddle."
"As you wish," says Riddle, his hand enveloping Harry's in a tight grip.
Ten Years Later
"I don't know why you always insist on bringing knives," comes Harry's amused voice into his earpiece. "And forks, of all things. Are you making fun of us humans?"
"Of course not, my lord," says Tom, twisting to the side to dodge gunfire, and swiftly throws a knife with deadly accuracy at the sniper. He makes sure to avoid any fatal points because Harry's always on him to avoid spilling blood; he just wants them to hurt a bit for being in his way. These grunts aren't his main target anyway.
"To your left," says Harry, and Tom rolls, the bullet barely clipping the edge of his tailcoat. He frowns because he hates sewing the most and chooses his sharpest knife to take out the offender. It lands neatly into the grunt's shoulder, and Tom leaps and lands next to the downed man. He smiles at the pure terror that's in the man's eyes, enjoying it in a way only a devil could, and when Harry clears his throat, he picks up the discarded gun and uses the back of it to knock the man out.
He drops it a moment later; guns would make things too easy and short and he barely gets enough time to go out to cause mayhem as it is. He tilts his head, listening intently and then reaches into his pocket, pulling out an exquisite pocket watch. He pops it open, looking at the time as he waits patiently for the rest of the grunts to get into position to 'ambush' him.
"It's almost your bedtime," he says conversationally.
"I don't have a bedtime," says Harry, almost immediately.
"You do when you get yourself kidnapped," says Tom. He slips the pocketwatch back into his clothes, taking a knife out and pivoting it in-between his fingers. "Hello," he says to the first grunt. "You have my master, so this isn't personal."
He doesn't wait for a reply, instead throwing four knives at once, each one positioned in-between a finger. Two of them take out a grunt and the other two disarm a grunt of his gun, forcing him to drop it when the knives hit his fingers. He takes his time with the others, dodging the bullets with ease and using either a fork or a knife to take them out eventually.
Harry doesn't complain, probably knowing just how much Tom likes to cause chaos, and it's only when Tom is the last one standing, that Harry speaks up again.
"Just you know," says Harry, amused, "sitting in the middle of enemy headquarters while my hero has fun with the grunts. Just imagine how much danger I'm in."
"If you're talking," says Tom, "then I'm pretty sure the danger has passed." He picks up a gun as he lightly steps past the downed humans, and holds it loosely in his grip as he approaches the front doors. He shoots the lock a few times, blasting it open and letting him swing open the doors easily. "Besides, I'm no hero," he says, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the second level. There are grunts here too, and Tom has time to stealthily take out a few before they notice his presence.
"Right," says Harry, "Like I'll ever forget you're a mean, angry devil that's only after my soul."
That actually startles a laugh out of him, and the last grunt standing spins on the spot, apparently convinced that the money isn't worth it and it's probably smarter to run. Tom doesn't give him the luxury of running, downing him by hitting his legs with sharp knives, and then as the grunt lay quivering on the ground in horror, stomps on him to knock him out.
When he reaches the end of the hallway, the doors swing open, and Harry smiles up at him, not a lock of his brown hair out of place. He's still dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the party when he had been kidnapped earlier in the evening; he had been wearing one of Tom's latest creations, a fancy black suitjacket along with fancy shorts. His eyepatch is the only thing missing, and the Faustian contract on his purple eye is visible and spinning.
Tom reaches into his pocket, pulling out a spare eyepatch as he's prone to carry on him. He brushes Harry's bangs to the side, before deftly tying the eyepatch back on, hiding the contract from view. "You look fine," he remarks.
Harry grins brightly back up at him, the seventeen-year-old taking his hand to lead him past the double doors and into the room he had been locked up in. The offender has his hands pierced together by Harry's cane, the only weapon Harry had been able to smuggle into the party. The man's legs are tied together by his own ripped up jacket, and he's gagged with some of the same material.
"It was almost disappointingly easy," says Harry, with some scorn curling his top lip. "He didn't suspect a thing."
"You do look pathetically harmless, my lord," says Tom, drawing an offended look from his master, and Tom grins as he walks over to the desk to observe the wand Harry's snapped in half. It had only taken him a few months of study to learn how to identify wands and he knows that they've gotten the right guy.
"I've already called Maylene to pick up the body," Tom says as he turns back to face Harry. "Ready to go home?"
"I've been ready for an hour now," says Harry, but he's smiling so Tom just rolls his eyes.
Tom walks over to his master, picking up Harry's slim body bridal style. "Maybe if you fought your way out yourself you would be home already," says Tom, walking the both of them over to the open balcony of the room. Harry had probably been standing here when he had been watching Tom fight the grunts earlier.
"But then what's the point of you?" asks Harry, cheekily. Tom sighs heavily at that, and Harry laughs brightly into his ear as Tom jumps off the balcony.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed, please review and fav! :)
This story won't be very long, maybe totaling 60k words in total, and I have around 5 chapters already written. Please let me know what you think / since it's a mystery any theories and all later on in the story, because they really do help me write :)