I'm sorry if it takes so long for me to update. Life has been nothing but a whirlwind of school and hospital duty these past few months. Anyway, thanks to those who read and reviewed this story! I didn't actually expect to get that much reviews for the first chapter, you know. And I'm really grateful! : D
And yes, to those who asked...Harry is sixteen, and already due to start his sixth year at Hogwarts, so why is Sirius alive? Simple. I love him x) And I think it's so sad he had to die just when he and Harry already had a budding father-son relationship.
II
That Butler, Ready
. . .
"...allow me gently to lead him where I will,
I promise you that you will lose him still."
-Mephistopheles (Goethe's Faust)
. . .
Run...
Down the dark corridor.
Run...
The corridor seemed to stretch on and on. Harry felt his lungs about to burst from the effort of running, felt the cold sweat trickling down his forehead as his legs pumped him further on.
You have nowhere to go, Harry Potter.
The voice was high pitched and cold...He felt his scar throbbing as the adrenaline surged through him, propelling him towards the door at the end of the corridor.
You are mine.
A pair of glowing red eyes suddenly flashed at him through the darkness...
. . .
Harry Potter woke with a start.
Cold sweat beaded Harry's forehead as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The dark ceiling of his room in Number 12 Grimmauld place was a blur. It had been a dream...
But it had felt so real.
Harry let out a sigh and rolled over, retrieving his glasses from the bedside table. He sat up and put them on. Ron was snoring softly on the bed just across from his, his dreams undoubtedly free of troubles.
Harry's cold fingers felt the scar on his forehead. It was still throbbing. It had been doing this so often in the past that he was almost used to the pain by now. The pain was usually attuned to Voldemort's emotions...What had the Dark Lord been feeling? Harry wondered as he got out of bed.
He stretched and made his way to the window, his brilliant green eyes taking in the inky black sky. What had Voldemort been feeling? Usually, he was able to tell whether or not Voldemort was feeling angry, exuberant, or even anxious. But this evening, the Dark Lord's emotions seemed...ambiguous somehow...
"Harry?"
Harry glanced over his shoulder. Ron was sitting up in bed, sleepy and his hair tousled. "What're you...doing up at at...three in the mor...mor...mooorniiing?" Ron asked, yawning.
He shrugged. "Had a dream...that's all."
"Aren't you supposed to be blocking out those dreams?" Ron asked.
Harry felt guilty. True, he was supposed to be blocking out Voldemort's thoughts with occlumency. "Sometimes they just...slip in," Harry explained. He didn't bother mentioning that he was as good at occlumency as he was as good at potions.
Ron was growing more alert now. "What was it about?"
Harry shook his head. "Couldn't make any sense of it...Just running down a dark corridor." He thought it best to leave out the glowing red eyes...and Voldemort's voice. No doubt the word 'Voldemort', uttered this early in the morning, would throw Ron into a state of anxiety.
"D'you think you should tell Dumbledore?" Ron asked.
"I wouldn't want to bother him." Dumbledore seemed excessively busy this year—he was often away on long trips, returning so rarely to Hogwarts that even Professor McGonagall worried. Where he went and what he did, no one was quite sure, but undoubtedly it had something to do with Voldemort.
"He'd want you to bother him," Ron pointed out.
Harry frowned. The last time he had seen Dumbledore was just last night, after that butler killed off the Death Eaters without even breaking into a sweat. Harry had told Dumbledore about the butler, Sebastian, and his master, Earl Phantomhive. Dumbledore had been silent and thoughtful , and then he'd left without giving an explanation.
Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore has more important things to take care of," Harry said. "All I have to do is practice occlumency and the dreams will stop." He suddenly frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just that," Harry explained, "the name 'Phantomhive' is familiar. I've heard it before, I just can't recall where."
"You said that kid with the eyepatch was an Earl, right?" Ron asked. "I don't know much about muggles, mate, but if they've got some green blood—"
"Blue," Harry corrected, stifling the urge to chuckle.
" –blue blood...wouldn't they be sort of famous in the muggle world?" Ron yawned again.
Harry let out a sigh. "Let's just say I haven't really been paying attention to the muggle world ever since I discovered the wizarding world," he said, somewhat sheepish. "But the name 'Phantomhive'...it rings a bell."
"You know what?" Ron said, sinking back into bed. "We could ask Hermione tomorrow...She knows everything."
. . .
The breeze that blew through Ciel Phantomhive's hair was cold.
The immortal Earl was standing on the roof of his townhouse, his blue eye fixed on the cold moon. He frowned, reached behind his head and untied his eyepatch, letting it fall to his feet. He opened his closed eye. His vision was often marred by the contract mark in this eye, but he was used to it by now.
Two contract marks...
Ciel glanced down at his left hand. On the back of his hand was an upside down pentagram enclosed in a double circle. At each point of the pentagram, between each circle, were ancient letters that, according to Sebastian, translated to Leviathan. Ciel frowned as he watched it.
"Admiring your new collar, my Lord?"
Ciel glanced sharply over his shoulder. Sebastian was giving him his trademark devilish smile. "Silence," the boy hissed.
Sebastian came closer, his tailcoat fluttering in the breeze. "You may find this life of servitude oppressive," he commented. "However, you have nothing to worry about—your collar is temporary, binding you to your new master only until his objective is fulfilled. And I must say, Young Master, his objective is rather queer."
Ciel frowned, remembering the old man's words. He shoved his thoughts regarding the old man aside and turned around to face Sebastian. "Why did you suggest a covenant with the old man in the first place?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Hoping my pact with Dumbledore will render our contract null and void?"
Sebastian knelt on one knee. "I am faithfully your eternal servant," Sebastian said, his head bowed. "Everything I do is for the Young Master's benefit. Moreover, our contract shall remain until the day I swallow your soul."
The young Earl smirked at him. "But since I shall never die, your hope of obtaining my soul is gone."
The black butler looked up at him, his red eyes aglow. "And thus, Young Master, count yourself lucky—your fetters shall soon fall away. Mine shall eternally stay."
. . .
"Honestly, Harry, how could you not know the name Phantomhive?" Hermione asked the next morning, at breakfast. It was just the three of them in the dining room, with Kreacher lingering near the sink, mumbling under his breath.
"I haven't really been interested in the muggle world for the past six years, Hermione," Harry defended. Beside him, Ron was busy wolfing down pieces of bacon, his eyes fixed on Harry and Hermione.
Hermione frowned. "Phantomhive is the name of the young earl who was newly appointed into the peerage, five years ago," she explained. "It was all over the news. People were skeptic about a child in the peerage. But the fact that he owns the world's most lucrative toy and gaming company silenced everyone's mouths."
"So that's why the name was familiar," Harry said. "Dudley always wanted new gadgets, and I think the brand was 'Funtom'."
"Yes, yes, a play on the word 'phantom'," Hermione said dismissively. She leaned on her elbows and gave Harry a piercing look. "Are you sure those two people in the alley were...?"
"I'm positive," Harry confirmed. "That butler, Sebastian, said that his master was the Earl Phantomhive."
"But what were they doing there, of all places?" Hermione pondered, the look in her eyes distant.
"And how'd that guy get rid of those Death Eaters just like that?" Ron asked, swallowing his food.
Harry frowned. "What I want to know," he said quietly, his eyes boring into Ron and Hermione, "is how that guy survived a stab to the heart."
Both Hermione and Ron's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "To the heart?" Hermione said, surprised. "You didn't mention this before!"
Ron was too speechless for words.
Harry was about to continue, when two loud cracks echoed simultaneously in the kitchen. Harry jumped to his feet, Hermione let out a little scream and Ron gagged on his toast.
"What's all the commotion about, mates?" Fred asked. He and George both wore identical grins on their faces. No doubt they were pleased with the trouble they had caused.
Ron was cursing under his breath. "Ronald Weasley!" George exclaimed, horrified. "How dare you swear at the table!"
"This is tragic, George," Fred said, sighing. "You and I are malicious miscreants from the very depths of hell...but we've never done anything so vulgar as to curse at the table!"
"Shuddup!" Ron snapped.
Harry sat back down at his chair as Hermione pursed her lip. "So, our itty bitty friends," George said as he and Fred sat on either side of Hermione. "What in the name of Merlin's pants are you lot doing in here when there's a top-secret meeting going on upstairs?"
Harry looked alert. "A meeting?" he said. "With Dumbledore?"
Fred nodded. "Yup! It seems as though Dumbledore returned at the crack of dawn, looking rather discouraged from what we've heard." Though he sounded carefree, Harry knew the look in Fred's eyes was one of worry.
Harry frowned. It wasn't often that Dumbledore stayed at Headquarters—he'd been coming back now for two nights in a row. What could Dumbledore have been up to?
"...tried using the Extendable Ears, but Mom's gone and put an Imperturbable charm on the door." Harry was jarred out of his thoughts by George's explanation.
"Must be pretty top secret," Fred went on. "Everyone's there...even old Snape."
Harry looked down at his plate, a frown on his face. "However, we did manage to overhear something," George said.
"Right before Mum realized we were eavesdropping," piped up Fred.
"And came out screaming like a banshee."
"She threw insults like Kreacher, though."
Hermione let out a small cough. "What did you two overhear, exactly?"
The twins were silent. "Hm, not quite sure," Fred said, his tone serious. His brow furrowed. "Something about someone doing something he shouldn't have done...I think. It was mostly Sirius talking about that."
"Yeah, I think his exact words were: '...not something you had to do!'. He sounded pretty mad," George said.
"Who could he have been talking to?" Hermione wondered.
"Dumbledore?" Harry suggested.
"But since when have Dumbledore's actions ever been questioned?" Ron asked.
"And how many more unanswered questions do you lot plan on asking?" a voice asked.
Their eyes widened in surprise and they turned to the doorway. Sirius Black was leaning against the doorframe, an eyebrow raised at the group of teenage wizards in the kitchen. He seemed amused, but his eyes, Harry noted, were cautious...and troubled.
"Sirius!" they chorused.
"Meeting over then, mate?" Fred asked, grinning.
Sirius moved to the table, but he didn't sit down. "So, little eavesdropping miscreants," Sirius said to the twins. "Spreading gossip like wildfire, eh?"
"It wasn't gossip, it was fact," George said, hurt.
Sirius shook his head. "You're lucky Molly didn't catch you talking about what you overheard—she'd probably have Ginny do a Bat Bogey hex on you."
"What was the meeting about, Sirius?" Harry asked.
His godfather turned to him. "Oh, this and that," Sirius said dismissively, drawing a seat for himself. He fixed his eyes on Harry and let out a small sigh. "The truth is, it's not something you lot really should know. According to Dumbledore, the less you know, the better."
"How is that any helpful?" Ron asked.
Sirius shrugged. "Let's just say that being in the dark for now is what's best," he said.
Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly at his godfather. Usually, Sirius was all for telling Harry anything that went on during meetings. What was so important that it would keep Sirius from telling him anything?
"What do you mean 'for now'?" Harry asked.
Sirius grinned at him. "Well, Harry, knowing how very much like James you are, I'm sure that you and your friends will be able to figure it out...soon."
For the rest of the day, though they tried hard to hide it, Harry couldn't help but notice how troubled the rest of the members of the Order were.
. . .
Ciel frowned as Sebastian drove down Charing Cross Road. In order to comply with his Master's wishes, it was necessary that he, Earl Ciel Phantomhive, be present at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—as a student. And to be a student, it was necessary that he look like one, which led to this little outing.
Sebastian had explained earlier that most of the wizards in Britain went to Diagon Alley in order to make necessary purchases. Ciel had expected that Sebastian would transport them to whatever magical place this Diagon Alley was. It was safe to say that he had been most disappointed when Sebastian informed him that they would be using the car to drive to the heart of London.
How could there be a wizard-filled place in London? Ciel had wondered, but didn't dare ask his butler. Sebastian would no doubt point out his ignorance. Well, unlike Sebastian, who seemed to know about magic and was over three thousand years old, he didn't have enough experience yet. Something the young Earl was about to correct.
Ciel raised an incredulous eyebrow as Sebastian stopped the car in front of a tiny and grubby looking building. It didn't help that this dismal structure was situated between a book and record shop—it looked even grubbier than it already looked.
"Young Master, we have arrived," Sebastian said. He got out of the car to open Ciel's door with a bow.
The Earl of Phantomhive stepped out, his cane in hand. In this era, he had wisely chosen to let the hat go. He scowled at the building in front of him. "Are you sure you have the right place?" he asked, not looking at his butler, who was still bowing.
"How could I be the Phantomhive butler if I couldn't even locate the Leaky Cauldron?" Sebastian asked, straightening.
Ciel scoffed. "The Leaky Cauldron, eh?" he said with contempt. "The name fits."
Sebastian smiled at him. "You shouldn't let appearances deceive you, Master," he said. "You, of all people, should know that."
Ciel ignored him as they approached the building. The interior of the 'famous' Leaky Cauldron was even worse than outside. The inside was dark and shabby and if Ciel was still human, he had a feeling that he would be sneezing. The moment he and Sebastian entered, several heads turned in their direction, curious eyes appraising their attire—and no wonder. Most of the customers wore cloaks and robes, some with the hood drawn. At the bar, a woman who looked like a hag ordered a plate of raw liver.
Sebastian glanced around. He himself had never been in the Leaky Cauldron, seeing as there was no need for him to go through the gateway to get to Diagon Alley. However, he felt that his Young Master needed to be more 'exposed' to things that he was ignorant of.
"Hey there," several voices suddenly said.
Sebastian's eyebrows shot up in surprise when he suddenly found himself surrounded by a trio of pretty young witches. "We haven't seen you around here. You new?" one of the witches asked, smiling coyly at him.
Sebastian felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead in annoyance. He had already lost count of the number of times that he had been assaulted in this manner by human women.
"Actually, no," Sebastian replied politely, offering the girls a smile.
"Eh?" witch number two asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "You dress like a common muggle."
"A very delicious muggle," witch number three said, smirking.
"Adelia!" the other two witches said, scandalized.
"What? It is true, you know."
Sebastian resisted the urge to twitch a facial muscle. Oh, if these witches knew what he really was, would they still be sidling up to him? What happened to the women who were meek and shy, anyway? "I thank you for your compliment," the butler said, the fake smile still on his face. "However, I had best be on my way—my Master awaits me."
The three witches blinked. "Huh? Master?" the one called Adelia said.
Sebastian extricated himself from the three witches. His master was waiting for him beside the bar, his elbow leaning against the stool. He knew the mocking look on Ciel's face well.
"Looks as though you've got yourself a fan club," Ciel said, grinning. "They looked as though they wanted to devour your soul, Sebastian."
"Attractive though they may be, they are not my type," the butler said, shrugging.
Ciel raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "You actually have a type?"
"Anything I can do for you chaps?" The servant and master turned to a toothless old man standing just behind the bar. Like the rest of the people in the pub, he was eyeing their apparel with evident curiosity. "I'm Tom, the innkeeper."
"We would like to get to Diagon Alley," Sebastian said.
The innkeeper nodded and motioned towards a door at the end of the hallway. "Right through there."
"Thank you."
Ciel lead the way down the corridor and out the door. They found themselves in a walled courtyard, directly opposite a brick wall. There was nothing in the courtyard except a trash bin, a pile of sodden newspapers, and an empty box.
"Your contempt is unjustified, Master," Sebastian said as he walked towards the wall. He paused, his red eyes sweeping the entire wall, then smiled as he reached out and tapped several of the bricks.
Ciel's eyes widened slightly as he heard the sound of brick scraping against brick as the wall slowly seemed to crumble, forming an archway. Beyond the archway, he could see scores of people...no, these were not people—these were wizards and witches. And these wizards and witches were busy ducking into shops that lined the street of Diagon Alley.
He became aware of Sebastian looking down at him, an amused expression on his face. "As I said before, Young Master, you of all people shouldn't be deceived by appearances."
. . .
"Mum, I need another robe—mine's going above my ankle." Ron flushed as he said the words.
Mrs. Weasley let out a sigh. "Well...all right. To the second hand shop then."
They were standing outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry and Hermione were with Mrs. Weasley, the twins, as well as Ron and Ginny to shop for the upcoming school year—a task that Harry felt he'd rather sit out. It wasn't that he didn't like going to Diagon Alley (on the contraire, he loved to) it was that he always felt awkward shopping with the Weasleys, who were desperately poor. Harry himself had been left a small fortune in gold galleons by his parents, and he was more than willing to split it with the Weasleys. He was sure, however, that they would firmly, but politely, decline.
He suddenly felt something small and wet nudging his palm and he looked down. Sirius the dog was giving him a rather reproachful look. Could his godfather read the expression on his face?
Harry shook his head and Sirius let out a sigh of frustration, shaking his head as well. "Sirius!" Mrs. Weasley whispered under her breath. "If you're coming on this trip as a dog, then please try to behave like one."
"She does have a point, you know," Tonks piped up. Her hair today was a garish shade of orange, reaching down to her waist. She, along with Kingsley, who was standing next to her, was accompanying them as a part of Harry's guard.
Harry, Ron and Hermione chuckled as Sirius let out a whine of annoyance. "Don't worry, Siri...Snuffles," George said. "We'll make sure to get you one big juicy bone afterwards."
Sirius rolled his eyes and Harry chuckled, giving his godfather an affectionate pat on the head. "So, Ron and I will be off to the second hand shop," Mrs. Weasley went on. "Does anyone else need anything?"
"I'm off to the Apothecary," Harry announced. He needed to stock up for his least favorite subject—potions.
"There's a fascinating book in Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said, "that my Mum wanted. I'm getting it for her."
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Right then," she said. "Fred, George, with me, Ron and Kingsley. Harry, Hermione and Ginny with Sirius and Tonks—"
"What?" the twins piped up. "Shopping with ickle Ronnikins? Can't we go off with Tonks instead?"
Mrs. Weasley gave them a hard look. No doubt, the events of the other night were still in on her mind. "Sirius and I can handle them Molly," Tonks reassured her. "These boys will be on their best behavior, as long as I'm around."
"The Death Eaters won't try anything in broad daylight," Kingsley said under his breath.
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lip. "Right, then," she relented. "But I'll have to take Ginny with me." As she, Ron, Ginny and Kingsely swept off to the second hand robe shop, Fred and George immediately rushed off to Gambol and Japes, swearing that they wouldn't be more than ten minutes.
Tonks let out a sigh. "Honestly," she muttered, a small smile on her lips. "Well, Harry, Hermione, where to then?"
. . .
Ten minutes later, Harry, Hermione and Tonks were leaving the Apothecary after Harry restocked on his dwindling supply of essence of Belladonna. Sirius had to wait outside, as pets were not allowed in the shop. The crowd thickened as they made their way back to Florean Fortescue's. Sirius walked ahead of them while Tonks brought up the rear.
"Make sure not to get separated," Tonks muttered as the crowd pushed past them.
A burly wizard passing by suddenly shoved against Harry's shoulder. Harry staggered and his glasses fell off his nose. There was a crunch of glass and Harry inwardly groaned as he bent to retrieve his glasses.
"Harry?" Hermione said, worried.
"It's just my glasses," Harry reassured as he straightened and put his glasses on. His eyes widened in surprise.
Standing just across the street, across the sea of people, was a young boy with bluish-black hair and an eyepatch. The boy was staring at him with his sapphire blue eye, a hand in the pocket of the fancy jacket he wore. It was as though the rushing crowd suddenly slowed down as Harry and the strange boy stared at each other. The boy's sapphire eye suddenly shifted to a glowing red, but at that moment, a trio of witches passed by and the boy suddenly vanished.
"Harry?" A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Hermione. "Harry, are you alright?"
Harry suddenly became aware of Sirius and Tonks staring at him with apparent worry. Harry glanced back at the spot where he had seen the boy. He was gone.
"I...I thought I saw," Harry stammered, "I thought I saw Phantomhive."
"What?" Hermione said, her grip tightening.
"That young Earl," Harry went on as he turned to her. "The one called Earl Phantomhive. I think I saw him."
He became aware of Sirius and Tonks exchanging a look—a look that made Harry suspicious. "Are you sure?" Tonks asked.
He nodded. "He was just there...but he's gone."
Tonks, Hermione and Sirius glanced at the spot where Harry had been staring at. Hermione looked puzzled but Tonks and Sirius, Harry noted, looked worried.
. . .
Ciel spread his arms as Sebastian draped the black robe on him. The Earl looked at himself in the mirror, both eyes narrowed critically at the clothing he wore. The uniform wasn't much to his taste, but the black robe suited him just fine.
He suddenly frowned at his reflection, thinking of the time he would put into serving his first master. Master...
Heh. He, Earl Ciel Phantomhive, had become the servant. He felt that he could finally empathize with Sebastian on that point.
Sebastian finished putting the finishing touches on the robe and stepped back to let his master inspect himself in the mirror. The butler knew that Ciel abhorred this—being the servant of another. The corner of his lips twitched with humor at the irony of his master being the servant of someone else.
The black butler watched as his master narrowed his eyes critically at his reflection in the mirror. "Does something displease you, my lord?" Sebastian asked.
"This," Ciel replied, glaring at the reflection of his robes. "What nonsense to have to go through this little masquerade. Why can I not just destroy that Voldemort directly? It would save us the time and the trouble of prancing around in this costume."
"It is not what your master wishes, my lord," Sebastian reminded him.
Ciel scoffed. "Sebastian, give me the wand," he ordered.
Sebastian bowed and retrieved a thin, long wooden box from the dresser. He opened it and handed the wand to his master.
Ciel frowned at the wand. It wasn't really a wand—it was a fake. According to Sebastian, devils like them could not use human magic (Sebastian refused to give the reason, saying that he would figure it out sooner or later). Well, that was fine so long as Ciel was not required to perform any spells in public.
The Earl pulled his eyes away from the wand and trained them back to the mirror. The truth was, he really did look like a wizard and, despite the fact that he was no longer human, he felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of attending a wizarding school. He knew that he had to hide this excitement, lest Sebastian make an utter laughing stock out of him.
"I suppose I shall have to ask Mr. Gibson to take over my affairs for a while," Ciel said, more to himself than to Sebastian. Mr. Wendell Gibson was obsequious as he was obscure. But, despite his numerous detractions, he was cunning, devious and exceedingly loyal—the sort of combination that he found useful.
He suddenly smirked at his reflection then turned his back on the mirror. He walked past Sebastian and seated himself in the red Queen Anne arm chair. He crossed his legs, leaned an elbow against the armrest and leaned his cheek against his palm as he twirled the fake wand in his other hand.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—this could be fun," Ciel said, his smirk broadening. He glanced at Sebastian. "Let's show them how well you can play any role, Sebastian."
Sebastian smirked. He knelt in front of his master, his head bowed and a hand against his chest. "Yes, my lord."
. . .
End of chapter two.
Hm...didn't quite find this chapter appealing—I get the feeling that something's missing. Please review to tell me what! : D Oh, and is anyone acting out of character, please let me know. And yes, this chapter was short...the next one will be longer, I promise. ; D
Oh, and a point I need to mention. I refer to Sebastian and Ciel as devils instead of demons because well, because they are devils and not demons. The two are different. The demon usually does a devil's bidding and can be killed. A devil cannot be killed and is higher in rank.