I suffered from a terrible case of writer's block for this chapter. I am not particularly happy about it, but after a bit of editing I would like to think its decent at least. I realized that not everyone knows what happened in Kuroshitsuji, as one of my reviewers pointed out, so I thought I would outline it for everyone:

- Ciel lost his parents.
- Ciel makes a deal with Sebastian (a demon): his soul for the revenge of his parents' deaths and his humiliation at the hands of his kidnappers.
- The deal then becomes a contract.
- The concept of the contract is that Sebastian can have Ciel's soul in exchange of assisting him in the adventure to seek out his
parents' killer, however, not anytime before that.
- Until the time comes to retrieve his soul, Sebastian is to serve as Ciel's butler.
- During a fight with Madam Red (Ciel's aunt) and Grell Sutcliff (a Grim Reaper), Sebastian injures his arm, the SAME arm that contains
a tattoo on it. This tattoo is the mark of proof that they made a contract with one another. This same mark is located in Ciel's
right eye, hence why he is always wearing the eyepatch.
- Closer to the end of Season 1, they realize that an angel named Angela was the one responsible for the deaths of Ciel's parents.
Upon finding out about this, they [Sebastian and Angela] duel, but the Phantomhive manor is burned down in the process, along with
the streets of London.
- At the VERY END of Season 1, Pluto, a guard dog of the Phantomhive Manor, loses his life, as he is controlled by Angela into
destroying the manor and the streets of London, along with Madam Red, and Angela loses her wings and life thanks to Sebastian.
- LAST EPISODE: Sebastian sits Ciel down and prepares to eat his soul...(In canon, he fails at this and gets Ciel's soul stolen by Claude, in my story, he succeeds and DOES eat Ciel's soul)

It was harder than I thought it would be to have Undertaker in this story. He seems like such an easy character to write, but due to his general strangeness, he is rather unpredictable, and in the anime he isn't seen that much. I tried my best.

When Undertaker stopped, Harry stared. The place he was taking him to was called 'Undertaker.' Really? Of course the man called himself after his profession. Who wouldn't? He had been planning on being a potter later in life anyway. They would have been beautifully created pots, of course.

He sighed. Why did he have to meet and agree to work for the crazy guy? Oh, right, he knew what he was. Well wasn't that just dandy.

"Why do you call yourself Undertaker?" The man just cackled and walked into the shop. He sighed and followed. The inside of the shop was dark and shadowy, but not so dark that if a human walked in they wouldn't be able to see anything. Coffins lined the walls, and one was laying down right in the middle of the floor. That wasn't creepy at all.

Undertaker turned and stepped into the coffin, laying down and crossing his arms as if he were a dead body inside it. He sighed happily, as if he had been waiting to do this all day, and closed his eyes.

Harry stared and waited, expecting him to eventually say something. Nope, he just continued to lie there.

Rolling his eyes, he finally snapped "You're going to just lay there?" Undertaker opened his eyes and looked at Harry innocently. "What? You could have asked questions this whole time, you know." Then he giggled, as if what he said was particularly funny to him.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. This man was succeeding in getting on his nerves. He had a sneaking suspicion that was what he was aiming for, actually.

He opened his eyes and asked then "What exactly is a demon? I doubt the beliefs of the Church are very accurate." Undertaker cackled and nodded in agreement. "You would be right about that, little demon." He adopted a pseudo-serious look and his face and proclaimed "Demons are actually from hell. They got that right, at the very least. They have no souls themselves, and feed on souls for sustenance. If they do not feed on souls, they won't die, but they will weaken progressively until they are below even humans in strength. It takes over a human lifetime for a demon to get to that point, though, which is why it never happens. They are immortal, of course. They cannot die. It is impossible. They might have their human body unmade, but all this does is send them back to hell. There they regain their strength before returning to the human world."

He looked at me for a moment as if trying to judge something, then asked "How is it you don't know this? You are a demon, yet you have never been to hell. That much I can tell."

Harry didn't know if he should tell the truth or not. He honestly did not know how he could be a demon. The only explanation he could think of was dormant demon blood on either his dad's or his mom's side of the family. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten that the wizarding world was old. It would still be there around this time. He would go and find the Leaky Cauldron soon, he decided. For now, he had to stay and talk with the loon. The loon that knew things he didn't.

"I just woke up like this." There. The truth. It omitted many things, but it certainly wasn't a lie. Undertaker simply sent him a look that said it all. He knew it was a lie of omission and that Harry knew much more than that, but instead said "Interesting." He drew out the word with a rather leery expression on his face. Harry fought a shiver. The man sincerely creeped him out.

Then a thought occurred to him "How do you know so much about demons?" he demanded.

Suddenly, Undertaker leapt up and threw his arms wide, as if about to hug him. "I am… a reaper!" He crowed that out as if Harry was supposed to know what that was. He stared blankly at Undertaker. Undertaker got a sheepish look on his face. "You don't know what a reaper is either, do you?" Harry shook his head. Undertaker sighed.

"The Grim Reaper Dispatch Society is what I used to be a part of. Reapers are given lists of people whose souls they are to reap. When a reaper reaps a soul, they see that person's life before their eyes. It is a reaper's job to judge whether or not that person is allowed to continue living or if they will die."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, blankly staring at Undertaker. "If you were one of these 'reapers' then why are you here of all places talking to me?"

Undertaker smiled that shark like grin again and wagged his finger at Harry. "Tsk, tsk, that would be telling, little demon man." Harry growled at that, and Undertaker laughed.

"You agreed to be my informant, so go. Every day you will tell me something interesting, and I'll pay you for it. With that, he reclined back into his coffin, this time pulling the lid on.

Harry fought for a moment to make sense of him before deciding it was impossible. The man was illogical and annoying. Tell him something interesting every day? Was he really that bored? He supposed that was why the man had left the reapers. Their job sounded incredibly boring to him. He was very happy he was not a reaper. At least as far as demons went, they could have fun.

He shrugged and left. If Undertaker wanted something interesting, he would find him something interesting.

-Ten Years Later-

Harry stared at the man before him, his gaze unreadable. "You mean to tell me that the Phantomhives are dead and their son is missing?" The man nodded, eager to please Pravus. Harry had built up a fearsome reputation since arriving in London.

This complicated things. If the Phantomhives were gone, the power balance of the royals would shift dramatically. Undertaker would certainly be interested in hearing of this. He shoved the pounds into the man's hand. "You did well reporting this to me." Without another word he turned and strode away.

He shouldn't report this alone. He should find the boy before reporting back to Undertaker. He would ask him to find where the boy was, anyway.

He still had no idea what Undertaker did with the information he brought him. He knew that he sold some of it, but most of it he had no idea. He didn't really care. Undertaker paid him, and on top of that, other people sought him out for information too. He was notorious in the London underground for knowing everything about anything. If someone wanted to know something, they would come to him.

He would seek out Vivienne. She was the most likely to know. She owned a the most sought after brothel in the area. It was astonishing how much information men let slip in the heat of passion and lust. The woman might be difficult to get the information out of, though. She seemed set on sleeping with him. It was irritating, most of the time. While Vivienne was beautiful, he had discovered long ago that his tastes tended more towards men.

He stalked the streets, the stars shining above him. He liked the night. It was very good at shining moonlight on everyone's dirty little secrets. Some were quite amusing. He had learned just the other day that Reginald Fairwhether, a very plump duke, had bribed a servant to tell no one about his overeating habits. Really, the man's own body showed more than enough evidence, he didn't know why the man bothered.

He came to the brothel and entered without hesitating. The scantily clad girls glanced at him then quickly away. They knew what he was here for. He ignored them and walked to Vivienne's office, entering without knocking.

She sat at her desk, writing in a pocketbook. A glass of red wine sat next to her. She looked up, and he noted the slight flush in her cheeks. She was tipsy. He sighed inwardly. While he most commonly dealt with her in this state, as she seemed determined to stay in a constant state of inebriation, he preferred her sober. When she was sober she was at least subtle about her advances.

When he entered she looked up, and instantly her entire face lit up. "Pravus! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She batted her eyelashes at him. Inwardly cringing, Harry replied "I've heard tell that the Phantomhives are dead, and their son presumed dead." She nodded, affecting a sad look on her face. "Yes, I heard of that. Dreadful news, that. Poor family."

He ignored her feigned sadness. "I don't believe the boy is dead. In fact, I believe he is alive and being held by persons unknown." Here, he watched her face for any kind of emotion. Surprise flickered across her face followed by a coy look he knew to recognize. Here he braced himself.

She stood next to him and walked her fingers up his chest, staring at his face from underneath her eyelashes as she did so. She shamelessly scrunched her chest up to his. "If I were to tell you who has the boy, what would you give me?"

He caught her other hand, which had come dangerously close to his crotch. "I will pay you as I always do." The warning in his eyes was clear.

She stepped back and pouted, but otherwise didn't say anything about his rejection, to his relief.

"Ciel is in the hands of Cristoff Ventur. As far as I know, the man intends to use him as his servant. I don't know where Ventur is keeping him, but I would guess as his manor."

Harry nodded and handed her the money, before turning away and walking out. He exited the brothel and started the trek back to Undertaker's.

This was interesting. Ventur was not known for having a cruel streak, so why he would have Ciel Harry didn't know. In any case, this would certainly qualify as Undertaker's interesting thing for the day.

He stepped into the shop, eyeing the coffin apprehensively. Every time he came into the shop the man was either in some dark corner or in the coffin. It was disturbing. He had gotten used to it a long time ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't still wary of Undertaker. The man might act harmless, but he was anything but, of that he had no doubt.

The lid of the coffin fell to the side and Undertaker rose out. Instantly he was in Harry's face, a gleeful smile on his own face. "Oooooh, I can tell you have something especially interesting to tell me today. What is it?"

"The Phantomhives are dead and their mansion has burned to the ground. Their son, Ciel, has gone missing. He is presumed dead, but I have heard tell the boy is alive. He is being held as a slave by Cristoff Ventur." He listed this off emotionlessly, watching Undertaker warily.

"You mean the Queen's guard dogs are gone? And little Ciel, being held as a slave of all things? Oh, this is rich. The spoiled little boy has lost his innocence so soon. Find him and observe." He ordered. "There is more to this, I can tell. Why would a man like Ventur have the boy as a slave, when he has no known pedophilic tendencies and he has so many servants? Go, and report back to me later. But don't save the boy. I simply want to know what happens."

Harry nodded, staying silent. Undertaker clapped and did a little jig. "This is going to be fun, I can just tell. Now run along, Pravus, be a good little demon." He blinked blankly and Undertaker, unperturbed by the intended insult. Undertaker had tried to get a rise out of him since he met him. He had succeeded at first, but eventually Harry had learned to not be bothered by him, and if he was, to blank his face and hide it. He had to admit that hiding his emotions was one of the better skills he had learned since his arrival here.

He exited the store and started walking in the direction of Ventur's mansion. It was well known, as the man held many parties there. It would be the easiest place to start looking for Ciel. It would usually take at least three hours to reach the house deep into the country, but at his top speed running he could easily get there within the hour.

He passed into the sparser part of London, where the houses were fewer and had more in between. Eventually he passed from that and into the country side. He ran for an hour until he came upon Ventur's house. It was opulent and overdone, like most noble estates.

He strode across the lawn, silent as a shadow, and walked up to the back door. He tried it, and the handle wouldn't budge. Locked. He took out a set of lockpicks and inserted two into the lock. All it took was some maneuvering and the lock clicked. He tried the handle and it swung open. The door led into the kitchen. It was dark with no one there.

He stepped inside the closed the door quietly behind him. He searched the first floor of the mansion, finding no one. He came across a door that led to the basement and huffed in amusement. He could hear many voices coming from down there, piquing his curiosity.

He silently descended the stairs, sticking to the shadows. When he arrived at the bottom he fought to keep from laughing, but he knew amusement danced in his eyes.

A huddle of people all sat in a circle. They all wore robes and hoods with veils. In the middle of the circle lay Ciel, with a blanket draped over his obviously naked body. Underneath Ciel was a ritualistic looking circle, with the pentagram in the middle. Over Ciel was a middle aged man, holding a ritualistic dagger. He held it over Ciel, while he and the people around him chanted in Latin.

He felt the chant in his very bones. It was a ritual to summon a demon. These people were truly stupid. He had met some idiots in his time, but these people took the cake. They took it and danced on it. He fought to keep laughter in again. They were all going to die. Of that he was sure.

None of them had noticed him. They were all too focused on the little boy. He breathed in deeply and froze. The boy's scent was heavenly. He radiated coldness, suffering, depression, with an underlying hint of tenacity. The boy was laying here with a dagger poised over his heart and he still had not given up life in his mind. The boy instantly intrigued him. Perhaps he would feed from the boy. He would hate for a soul such as that to go to waste. He waited patiently for the ritual to end.

The chanting ended and the man pushed the dagger down, as if to pierce Ciel's heart. The boy cried out and his eyes closed, waiting for death. It didn't come.

What did come was a hand shooting out of nowhere, clasping the man's hand that held the dagger. The man's eyes bugged out as he stared at the other man who had stopped it just above Ciel's heart.

Harry licked his lips. The demon they had summoned was mouth wateringly good looking. He had hair as black as raven's feathers, with eyes as red as blood. The demon gazed at the man with a condescending smile that screamed 'you're going to die now.' The man seemed to be smart enough to read the message, as he released the dagger and tried to scramble backwards.

The demon caught the dagger before it could pierce Ciel. He shot a look at the man as if scolding a naughty child. The demon bent down and whispered to the boy. Harry was sure he and the boy were the only ones able to hear the demon's words. "Would you like me to kill them?" The demon's voice was as smooth as butter. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

The boy seemed wary about saying yes, as he stared at the demon disbelievingly. The demon tsked and said "It is a simple question. Yes, or no?" The boy finally hesitatingly nodded yes. The demon smiled wickedly and in a few flashes of movement, had the dagger through the fat man's heart. Screams rang out as the demon killed every last human in the room except for Ciel.

The demon dropped the heart he had ripped out of the last person's chest and went back over to the boy. As he walked his eyes locked with Harry's, and he thought he saw amusement and something else he couldn't read in the ruby depths. At that point Harry decided it was time to leave. The boy was the demons now. He turned and left.