A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites! It really means a lot! -RR13

The Butler, Unveiling

August 20th, Campania Ballroom, Bar, 22:37

The three span round. The bartender was holding out a tray with three shots on it. The man had long hair that was a light shade of grey, and a manic smile on his face. "Undertaker?" gasped Daphne.

"Indeed, my young lady." he giggled. "How are you enjoying the service aboard this fine vessel?"

"You were the one to improve the Inferi for Voldemort?"

"Indeed I was." the man grinned.

"Why?" Daphne demanded. "What do you stand to gain by throwing your lot in with Voldemort?"

"I think I know, young mistress." said Tracey. Daphne turned to her housekeeper. "A Soul Collector's job is to collect the souls of the recently deceased. It's a particularly stressful job, it requires both meticulous record keeping, and perfect timekeeping. We need to know exactly who has passed on, the cause of death, and when they died to the nano second. As a result of this, combined with the exceptionally long hours, a few Soul Collector's go a little mad."

"That explains a lot." Sebastian muttered under his breath. Tracey cast him a dirty look.

"So, what you're saying, is that Undertaker has gone mad, and gone over to Voldemort's side?"

"Oh no, my young lady." Undertaker cackled.

"I believe that he's just trying to cause as much trouble as possible, young mistress." said Tracey.

"Is that why you are no longer a Soul Collector, Undertaker? Because you're mad?" asked Daphne.

"Actually, I've never known a Soul Collector to be fired." said Tracey. "We're pretty rare."

"What do you mean?"

"A Soul Collector is an exceptionally powerful witch or wizard who has committed suicide." Tracey explained. "Normally, humans wake up in the next life, and are sent to be processed through the afterlife. Soul Collectors will never know that though. We're doomed to live forever, sending others through to that which we sought." she finished, a sad look in her eyes.

"Tracey, you tried to kill yourself?"

"Fifth year, when I was getting all that bullying for being a half-blood."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's not important, right now." muttered Tracey.

"I beg to differ." Daphne snapped, taking ahold of Tracey's hand.

"As much as I hate to agree with Tracey, I must. It really isn't important right now." said Sebastian. Daphne turned to glare at him.

"Geez Sebastian, my oldest friend just told me she killed herself. Even you must have enough humanity-"

"Young mistress, I understand the situation, however, we are currently on a cruise ship, hundreds of miles out to sea, with an insane soul collector, and hundreds of undead monsters that are hungry for human flesh."

"Okay, point taken." Daphne conceded. She turned back to Undertaker, to find the bar ws empty. "Where did he go?"

"He must have gone to activate the vanishing cabinets!" Tracey exclaimed, leaping over the bar, and looking around.

"Sebastian? Can you track him?"

"I'm afraid I can't see his magical signature in the air."

"Can't you… I don't know… Smell him or something?"

"Unfortunately, young mistress, I am neither a beagle, nor a basset hound, so no."

"You've been way too sarcastic lately." the blonde sighed.

"I think I have something!" Tracey called. She was stood waving her hands in the air, as if feeling for something in the dark. "He must have used the dimensional tunnel."

"The what?"

"It's how Soul Collectors travel. It's much nicer than apparition. It's like a stripped back version of this world where the laws of time and space don't exist. It allows us to travel anywhere-"

"As fascinating as this is Tracey, we really need to find Undertaker."

"Sorry. Long story short, I can follow him through here."

"Can we follow you?"

"Not through here. The Dimensional Tunnel is only for Soul Collectors, anything else will just wither and die."

"I should be able to track Tracey down." said Sebastian.

"Are you sure?" asked Daphne, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"Quite positive. I'm rather good at tracking her down after all. Remember the flour incident at the manor?" he smirked. Daphne shuddered.

"I still don't understand how she blew up the kitchen with only a bag of flour.". Tracey giggled, and made a tearing gesture in the air. There was a loud ripping noise, and a swirling purple vortex appeared before her.

"Is that it? The Dimensional Tunnel?" Daphne asked. Tracey nodded.

"Mr. Butler. You'll be able to tell when I reenter this realm?"

"Most likely." Sebastian nodded.

"I'll blow something up. Just to be safe." she winked, and leapt through the portal, which snapped shut behind her. Daphne took a seat on one of the bar stools, and looked over the room.

"It's amazing that no-one noticed that."

"Muggle's rarely notice things such as this. They put it down to their imagination, or tricks of the light. I would imagine that the Dimensional Portal is shielded from their perception as it is."

"How so?" asked Daphne, with a frown.

"She said that Soul Collectors are there at the moment of death, correct.". Daphne nodded, so he continued. "Thus it stands to reason that both the Soul Collector, and the Dimensional Tunnel can be shielded from sight. People who die on operating tables, or in crowds, in public."

"I suppose so." Daphne nodded. Sebastian suddenly span around, staring ahead. "What is it?"

"Tracey's re-entered this realm."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." he nodded. With that, mistress and butler ran from the room.

August 20th, Campania, Corridor, 22:42

Sebastian and Daphne ran through the corridors, pushing people out of the way, though Sebastian was a little politer about it than Daphne. "My apologies madam. I do apologise, sir. What an odd place to lie, young sir. Perhaps if you were to use a chair like other people, you would not be trod on?". As they turned a corner, they found it completely deserted. The distinctive feeling of magic was in the air.

"Sebastian… Where is everyone?"

"I'm not sure..." the butler responded. It wasn't often that Sebastian was unsure, which worried Daphne greatly. As they proceeded down the corridor, the magic in the air grew thicker and thicker. They turned another corner, and both froze in shock. Ron Weasley was hanging in the air, like a twisted marionette. The two cautiously approached him. His body was covered in cuts, blood staining his clothes and dripping into the growing puddle on the ground.

"Weasley?" Daphne asked, hesitantly. "Can you hear me?". The redhead didn't respond. Daphne bent down, and looked up at his face, then leapt back in shock. "My God..." she muttered. The young man's eyes were missing, like they'd been sucked out. "The Nightmare Queen… She… She… She ate his… Eyes..."

"Young mistress… We need to continue."

"We can't just leave him here." Daphne replied. "He may have been a jerk, but he was still a-"

"I agree, however if we don't find Undertaker, then many more will die tonight."

"Yes… You're right… Of course." said Daphne, trying desperately to compose herself. She pulled out her wand and cast a notice-me-not charm on the corridor. Any passengers who did find their way down to this particular corridor would find themselves completely unable to see it, and ignore it completely. Stepping around Ron's body, they continued on. At the end of the next corridor, they found Tracey, who had Undertaker pinned against the wall, her blade at his throat.

"Young mistress. I found him, and one of our vanishing cabinets."

"Excellent work, Tracey."

"Shall I kill him?"

"Yes, I think-" Daphne began, but before she could finish, Undertaker snapped his fingers. The cabinet door creaked open. From within, a rotting hand gripped the edge of the cabinet door, and one of the Inferi pulled itself out. The first thing that Daphne noticed was that the hand didn't match the rest of the arm. The skin tone was totally different. Stitch marks became noticeable on the rest of the body. They had been stitched together from various other bodies. Undertaker slipped out from under Tracey's blade and cackled joyously. "Are they not magnificent, my young lady?". Daphne looked at him in shock.

"Magnificent. You created a herd of flesh eating Frankenstein's monsters!" she cried.

"And it wasn't easy, let me tell you!"

"What the hell did you do?" Tracey demanded, a fierce glare on her face. Even Sebastian was surprised at the look. Undertaker was the only one who wasn't. He chuckled darkly.

"Well, you are aware of course of how a Soul Collector reaps the souls of the recently deceased, yes?"

"Of course I am!"

"What about us humans?" snapped Daphne, not taking her eyes off the lurching abomination before them.

"Essentially, it's like cutting a piece of ribbon." said Tracey. "The ribbon is your life, we simply cut the rest off when your time comes. Then, we take the piece that was your life, and archive it in the Soul Collectors Compendium."

"Exactly!" Undertaker grinned. "Then, I had a brilliant idea! What if, instead of archiving that ribbon, I tied it to another?"

"So that's what they are?" asked Tracey. "Not exactly Inferi, but rather a reanimated human."

"What's the difference?" asked Daphne.

"Inferi are useless against fire. I'm betting it won't affect them a bit."

"Go ahead, try it." urged the Undertaker. "This is an experiment after all, I'm intrigued.". Daphne glared at him for a moment, then turned on the Inferi shuffling towards them.

"Incendio!" she yelled. The Inferi closest to them began to burn, but did not stop, nor show any sign of it affecting them. Daphne stared at them aghast. "I don't understand..." she muttered.

"Inferi require a very dark and powerful spell to create. To create an army of them is even harder. Nothing more than a reanimated corpse. There have even been some instances of Inferi regaining a sense of self. But these beautiful creatures, they're essentially a stitched up human with no cognitive functions. I call them, Bizarre Dolls!" he grinned, dissolving into a fit of maniacal cackles. "They're unkillable!" he exclaimed, and there's one here that I think you'll find particularly to your liking. He pointed at one of the creatures, that lurched forward, toward Daphne, who raised her wand at the creature. The abomination lurched forward. Daphne froze. The thing before her had clearly once been a woman, no, a girl. Shorter than Daphne. Flesh clung loosely to her frame, peeling away in a few muscles were visible in a few points on her face, and a few of her fingers were little more than exposed skeleton and tendon. What was left of her hair was straggled. Platinum blonde, though hideously dirty, Her eyes were dead, devoid of all life. They had fogged over, though they looked to have once been a brilliant blue. Then, Daphne saw something around her neck. A necklace. The same thing that she had given to Astoria for her twelfth birthday. The one that she hadn't taken off since. That was when it hit her. This thing, had once been Astoria. The little girl that Daphne loved more than life itself. The one she swore to protect. She looked into Astoria's dead eyes.

"Please… Tori… Don't..." she whispered, tears streaming down her face. Of course, AStoria couldn't hear her. Astoria was gone. There was only the Bizarre Doll now. The creature lunged forward, towards her, it's mouth open, longing for the taste of flesh.