Disclaimer: I only own Doctor Stein/Rhosyn Evans and her story, and the various characters which are not part of the Harry Potter Universe. This is the first part of a series, so there are other characters who turn up who are not mine. All things that are recognisable, belong to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter One

Blood Flies and Undertakers

"Funeralese has had its ups and downs. The word 'morticians,' first used in Embalmers Monthly for February 1895, was barred by the Chicago Tribune in 1932, 'not for lack of sympathy with the ambition of undertakers to be well regarded, but because of it. If they haven't the sense to save themselves from their own lexicographers, we shall not be guilty of abetting them in their folly."

— Jessica Mitford

In Knockturn Alley, Blood-Flies were the first indication that someone had died. They clung to the body, sucking the blood from the skin, before burrowing their eggs deep into the deceased, that by the time the body reached an Undertaker, a new infestation of flies had begun to eat away at the corpse's flesh. As such it was curial to remove the eggs, and the larva, much to the disgust of nearly every Undertaker under Doctor Morte's pay.

Henryk Skeleinton was one such customer, and as Doctor Stein leaned over him, her wand burned a deep red. Quickly, before the larva could crawl off, Doctor Stein snatched up a scalpel and slashed open the wizard's skin. Eugene Grail, otherwise known as the-most-annoying-intern-Doctor-Morte-had-ever-hired-and-why-the-hell-did-you-find-a-boy-who's-terrified-of-blood, shrieked, covering his eyes, as Doctor Stein plucked the larva from Mr Shackleton's cheek.

The boy screamed again as the larva curled upwards, sensing a pair of warm, fleshy fingers, but before it could sink its razor teeth into Doctor Stein's hand, it was tossed into a bucket. The larva squirmed, flopping around helplessly for a couple of seconds, as its brother and sisters enveloped it, eating the weakling before it could move.

Turning away from the body, the Doctor wiped down her hands, the red-brown blood staining the white lab coat, and gave Eugene a thick glare. Hidden burins a pair of spectacles, her ice blue eyes seemed to burn under the green operating light, her lips pulling into a thick line as she rubbed her hands, trying to keep warm. Unlike the other Undertakers, Doctor Stein's lab was incredibly cold.

Situated right next to the River Acheron, the Wizarding River that ran invisibly alongside the Themes, it was the perfect place for an Undertakers, as souls could leave as fast as they came. The downside, however, was that it was always freezing, and unlike her colleges, Doctor Stein refused to install warming charms or wood-burning stove, insisting that the warmth interfered with her work.

'You have to stop shrieking,' she snapped, as she walked over to the sink, rubbing a bar of Mrs Vossen's Purifying Soap, between her hands and dunking them in a basin filled with steaming potion cured water.

She hissed as the Stripping Potion burned away the hairs and potential diseases. Once clean, she raised her hands, the potion-water dripping from her nails before rubbing her palms on a clean towel.

'I'm sorry, Doctor Stein,' Eugene murmured, running a hand through his dark hair. 'I just don't like Blood-Flies,'

Doctor Stein grunted, and removed her wand from her hair, allowing the thick black locks to fall to the middle of her back.

'Well you better,' she sapped checking her wrist-watch and tapping the face. 'They'll come up in your practical exams, and I won't be there to help you.'

With a sharp tap, her wand hit the side of the equipment table, and every blade stood to attention. The blood cleaned itself, vanishing instantly, and the bucket full of Blood-Larva set itself on fire. Another tap echoed around the basement, and soon everything was packing itself away, the green light turning off, leaving the room dark.

The Doctor held out her hands, catching her bag as it dropped into her hands. Even the corpse was boxed up, tucked safely in his coffin like smoked fish in a tin. Eugene's skin was a pale green by the time Doctor Stein locked the lab door, and he had to be pulled down the corridor, her hands wrapped tightly around his skin.

E.L.M and Wizards, Undertakers & Embalmers, wasn't the largest establishment on Knockturn Alley. However, it was by far the most used. Once, there had been a multitude of morticians, all smothering each other in half-arsed desperation to be the best, that by eighteen-fifty, they were all bankrupt; well, all except for E.L.M.

By the time Doctor Stein and Eugene reached the waiting room, a dozen witches and wizards sat, their fear and nervousness rising with each breath. Somewhere pacing, while others were reading half-heartily or clutching their wands. As soon as the Undertaker and her Apprentice walked through the door, however, all eyes set on them. Then everyone was talking, trying too over shout each other in the desperation for answers.

'How did papa die? Was it painful?' Miss Skeleinton cried, rushing up to Doctor Stein and grabbing her hands.

She was small, smaller than the Doctor, and yet her clothes were far too beautiful. Her robes were a soft blue, decorated with butterfly's and was so elegant; they barely made a sound as she walked. Her blonde hair, much like deceased father, was pinned up, and practical.

'May we see him?' Widow Skeleinton asked, stepping forward, and pulling her daughter away. 'Please!'

Unlike her daughter, Widow Skeleinton was the epiphany of grief. She wore black, from the top of her head, right down to her leather shoes. Around her wrist, sat a small wreath of lilies, and as the Doctor took a small step back, she sighed.

'Doctor Stein. Was there any sign of physical distress?'

She couldn't see who spoke, but rather, understood that the man was hidden in the crowd. There was a flash, bright and white, and the Doctor blinked. She scowled, rubbing her eyes, taming the soreness that lingered behind them.

'Was he a Knight!' a woman suddenly shouted. 'Did you find a mark?'

With those words, everyone fell silent, and all eyes fixed on the reporter at the back of the room. Half hidden in the doorway, and with her blonde hair in s-waves, face framed by gaudy red glasses, Rita Skeeter seemed to shrink under the Doctor's cold glare. Her photographer, the man who'd asked her the previous question, suddenly darted out the door, as the Doctor's face set in a cold line.

Miss Skeeter backed further into the corner as the Doctor took off her lab-coat, handing the bloodied garment to Eugene, revealing her bottle-green blouse, freshly pressed trousers and pointy black books. Although working, face smeared with blood and gods knew what else, the Undertaker still managed to look imposing. Crossing her arms, Doctor Stein pursed her lips, cocking her head, and in three quick strides, was approaching the reporter.

'We do not release information so callously,' she said, voice hard. 'If you wish to find out whether Lord Skeleinton was a Knight, then I'm afraid you'll have to ask the Ministry. As I have told you before, Mis Skeeter, E.L.M does not release client information; that part of our contract. So until you expire, I'm afraid, the public will never know.'

Turning her head, Doctor Stein looked at Eugene, and a sly grin on her lips.

'Mr Grail,' she announced a cold smile on her lips. 'Why don't you escort Miss Skeeter out, before she tarnishes Lord Skeleinton reputation,'

Eugene rushed forward, taking Rita by the arm, and after a lot of hissing, and 'how dare you do this' the reporter was tossed out onto the snow. Nodding, Doctor Stein inspected her audience.

'If Widow Skeleinton could come with me, please,' she said, arm extended. 'There are some things I would like to discuss Lord Skeleinton's funeral,'

With a muffled sob and a shuffle of feet, Doctor Stein escorted Widow Skeleinton by the arm into her study, Eugene holding out the door for them as they walked through. Candles flickered to life as the two stepped inside, revealing a large square room, with royal blue wallpaper and a dark wood furnishings. Eventually after a mad dash to clean up the self-pouring tea, and once the Apprentice had left, Doctor Stein took a seat behind her desk; she leaned across, giving Widow Skeleinton a rare look.

The clock struck nine.

'How long have you known that Lord Skeleinton had Stage Nine, Romanian Dragon-Pox?' she asked, as Widow Skeleinton took a sip of her milky tea.

'Four months,'

Doctor Stein raised her eyebrows and rubbed her chin.

'And do you know how could have contracted it?'

Widow Skeleinton shook her head.

'I don't know,' she pressed, breathing heavily. 'I thought that one of his employees could have caught it, but considering that no one's dead, I have absolutely no idea where it came from.'

Doctor Stein picked up a quill, wrote something down, and looked back at Widow Skeleinton.

'Elenor,' she said, breathing heavily, and set her phoenix quill on her page, letting the ink bubble. 'I know we've never seen eye to eye, especially at school, but I have to know, did Henryk ever leave the country?'

Even in the darkly lit room, with red cheeks, and a runny nose, Elenor Skeleinton nodded.

'Yes,' she said, finally. 'To France; he was visiting his mother. He bought a travel permit. I can show it to you.'

Doctor Stein frowned, and leaned over her desk, taking the scroll of parchment from Widow Skeleinton's shaking hand.

Certificate of Voyage

I, Henryk Skeleinton, do by swear on the laws set down by the Minister for Magic except and agree to the regulations retired for me to travel to Europe. I will be in Paris, France, from the 3rd of August, 1979, to the 25th of September, 1979. I will be visiting my elderly mother.

Signed and approved by Malcolm Penel on the 1st of August 1979.

'And have you been tested?' Doctor Stein asked, placing the parchment on the table, letting the certificate form a wall between them.

Elenor nodded.

'Yes, both Sophia and I were tested along with our staff by St Mungos Hospital when we found out. There is no chance of us contracting the virus.'

Doctor Stein nodded.

'Good, well that takes care of something,' she paused. 'May I keep this?'

Elenor nodded. Doctor Stein sat up and smoothed down her trousers.

'Do you have his will ready?' she asked as if the last few seconds had never happened.

Elenor shook her head.

'No, not yet, I am going over it with the lawyers, but I would like to discuss the funeral,'

Two hours later, after a lengthy discussion of a floating or man-carried casket, and what flowers were to be placed and who exactly was present at the ceremony, Elenor Skeleinton finally left Doctor Stein's study. The Doctor stretched, her arms rising above her head as she stared at the stack of papers in from of her. Even with all the evidence, something didn't add up.

Eventually, after several minutes, Doctor Stein rose from her desk, placing all her documents into a drawer. After locking it with both a key and a spell, the witch set about cleaning herself up. She changed, swapping the green blouse and black trousers for a black dress. After pulling it over her corset and chemise, she quickly set about tightening the laces and then tucking the extra away. After making sure that she could move around, the witch washed her face, removing her makeup and the blood, before patting her face dry.

Her necklace, a single copper coin seemed to shine. Doctor Stein looked at it, inspecting the markings. She frowned. She'd have to go and see the glamour-smith again. Sighing, Doctor Stein turned away from the skin and reached up to grab a book from her shelf. She'd just sat back down and was beginning to read when a knock broke the witch from her musings.

She looked up, removing her glasses as Doctor Morte entered her study. Although rumoured to be a million years older, a woman who many deemed to be immortal, Doctor Eileithyia. L. Morte was surprisingly handsome for a something plus four hundred-year-old. Her hair was only beginning to turn grey, wrinkles barely forming across her ebony skin, and her eyes were far too blue to be real. Originating from Greece, the witch knew the in's and out's of every death, every possible disease, every corpse before they even arrived at her door; a Death-Watcher. There was a reason, after all, why E.L.M was the best undertakers in Europe.

That evening, she was wearing a white blouse, the sleeve held down by string and a high waisted rusted-red skirt. It fell to below her knees, the white overcoat hiding her curvy figure and her thick, natural which erupted like a halo around her head. Eileithyia sat down in the chair Widow Skeleinton had vacated, onyx cufflinks clinking as she set her arms on Doctor Stein's desk. She smiled as Doctor Stein produced a coffee, her semi-wrinkled hands tightly latching around the bone-china.

'So, Rosemary' she spoke, taking a deep sip, eyes boring into Doctor Stein's skull as she massaged her forehead. 'How did it go?'

Morte's voice was soft and warm, a gentle tone against the dark wood, and Victorian-style decor that made up Doctor Stein's office. Doctor Stein rolled her eyes, kicking off her heels and leaned back on her chair, the plush fabric warm against her skin.

'I have no bloody idea how you do it, Eile,' she breathed, eyes closed. 'I hate going over the details — and the paperwork. Oh, the bloody paperwork!'

Eileithyia laughed, teeth a pearly white.

'Now, Rosie, train you I must,' she said, setting her coffee on the table. 'After all, you'll inherit this place when I'm gone,'

Doctor Stein opened one eye and gave her a long, sour look.

'The day you die,' she said, putting both feet up onto her desk, 'is the day the dead rise.'

Eileithyia shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

'We'll see,' she breathed taking another sip, and reached into her pocket, producing a long envelope.

'A black owl dropped this off earlier today,' she said, handing it over. 'Damn thing bit me — it's the Blacks, again. The only family I know that that chooses to send mail via a Grimm-Owl; crazy nutters.'

Doctor Stein raised an eyebrow.

'How do you know it's them?' she asked, picking up her letter opener, and slicing it through the parchment. 'You've never met them.'

She paused, eyes narrowed.

'You haven't been reading my letters have you?' Doctor Stein breathed as Eileithyia began to draw her finger around the patterns on the cup. 'I get enough crass from the Department of Letters already.'

Eileithyia rolled her eyes, smirking.

'No need to murder me, Doctor Stein. It's just a feeling,'

Rolling her eyes, Doctor Stein let the letter unfold. As she did so, a small plum of grey smoke rose into the air. For the briefest of seconds, it flickered and spat, as if trying to read her face. She laughed when she realised the Department of Letters would have failed to open the letter. Once having determined who she was, the smoke transformed into a constellation. Doctor Stein's stomach dropped.

'Is that the Leo?' Eileithyia queried, leaning forward so that her face almost broke through the smoke. 'Isn't that pretty,'

Rising to her feet, Doctor Stein slipped on her shoes, grabbing her coat from the hanger, and tucked the letter into her pocket.

'I have to go,' she announced, rushing out the door 'I won't be long!'

Eileithyia's head appeared around her door as she hurried down the corridor.

'I'll count this as your lunch break!' she cried.

Pausing, Doctor Stein turned back, flipping her employer off, before rushing down the corridor; she disapparated to the sound of Eileithyia's laughter.

Doctor Stein appeared at the ruins of a small Abby, her coat swaying in the wind. Surrounded by darkness, and snow, she was the only one about. Ice crunched under her as she hurried down the graves, her steps turning into a jog. She saw him before he spotted her.

He sat against his family's tomb, cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling around him. His clothes were, surprisingly muggle, and he wore jeans over a black shirt; casual enough, and yet, somehow screamed nobility. The Grimm-Owl sat on his shoulder, black feathered and yellowed eyed. It started at Doctor Stein as she approached, never once blinking. It must have shifted or something, because a second later, the wizard was lifting his black-haired head, and stating at Doctor Stein.

The wizard rose, and with a deep breath, thew himself at the undertaker. The witch caught her friend, eyes widening as the eighteen-year-old began to shake, his breath quickening as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Stiffly, Doctor Stein raised her hands, enveloping the young boy in a warm hug.

'What happened?' she asked as he took a step back, grey eyes zooming around, waiting for something or someone to jump out and kill him.

'We need your help,' he breathed, sucking in the cigarette smoke.

Doctor Stein frowned.

'We?' she enquired.

'KREACHER!'

There was a loud, jaw-snapping pop, and a millisecond later, the house-elf appeared next to the boy. It bowed, muttering's its respect for his young master, and turned to face Doctor Stein. His lips curled when it saw her, and he shrank so quickly that Doctor Stein thought he might disappear.

'Mudblood,' it hissed, sniffing as if to make sure.

Doctor Stein froze, her hand travelling up to her throat — the glamour must be fading. Shaking herself, Doctor Stein smiled weakly, as the wizard looked down at his elf, glaring.

'That's enough, Kreacher,' the boy snapped, eyes thinning 'She's a friend,'

'A friend?' Kreacher asked, almost mockingly, as if he couldn't believe that his perfect, precious, mother-pleasing master was friends with a muggleborn.

'Yes, Kreacher,' the wizard said again, pressing the cigarette to his lips and taking a deep, hungry breath. 'A friend - you will treat her with respect. Don't tell mother.'

Even though he'd instructed it, the house-elf bristled, not liking the preposition at all. Even when he bowed, accepting the order, his eyes were burning with disgust.

Regulus Black straightened, dropping the cigarette, and crushing it under his boot.

'Rosemary, I need you to be my witness,' he said, getting to the point, and breathing sharply. 'I need you to be my Undertaker,'

Dear Readers,

So, yes, this is the rewrite of 'The Potioneer and the Undertaker.' I changed the title so that it would fit in with the series. It has taken me a very long time to get this done, and while, yes I know I should be finishing off 'Death's Hand' or 'The Guard of Isildur' this called to me first. I'm sorry, and yes, I will get around to everything, eventually.

Also, much like the original story, this one was set in 1979. I have no idea when it finishes, but considering how it will pan out, I am sorry for what will happen. The series is called 'The Chaos Series', and if you would look at my profile, it is there.

I hope you like the rewrite of this story, and please, leave a review, so I know what you all think.

A timetable is up on my profile.

From

Lily.