Blitzo struggled to maintain his eye contact with the sinner demon before him, but was finding it really hard to pay attention to what they were saying. He tried (and failed) to give at least two shits about his newest client's back story, if only because the fish-faced demon had failed to comment on either the imp's snazzy outfit or his recently renovated office. Blitzo nevertheless managed to keep himself from yawning in boredom as he listened to the reason why his services were being called upon.

"…so just because I was threatening his chances of winning the best salesman of the year, that fat walrus not only purposefully went out of his way to screw up my orders, which of course ALL got blamed on me, but he got his nosy bitch of a wife to spread rumors that I was unfaithful!" The demon yelled, black eyes narrowing in anger as his gills wheezed in agitation. "And then, after my wife left me, taking my own damn kids with her, leaving me with no job, and all my friends believing the lies that were being spoken about me…I decided to do the only thing that was fucking left for me to do."

At this point, the smartly dressed imp couldn't help himself, even though he knew he was running the risk of losing the only client his company had managed to attract all week.

"So you went for a midnight swim in shark-infested waters?"

Chuckling as his comment proved to be less than well received by the aquatic looking demon, Blitzo regained some of his composure at the answer he received.

"No actually." The demon replied in a deadpan voice." I put on my favorite television program, had a nice dinner and some ice cream…and then I electrocuted myself with the only remaining wedding present that hadn't been lost in my divorce."

Choosing not to comment on his client's admittedly cliche' manner of death, for this sinner was far from the first human who decided to end their life by the simple method of adding an electrical appliance to one's own bathwater, the former circus performer adopted the most dazzling smile he could as he tried to close the deal.

"And because of your...untimely end, you want I.M.P. to take out the disgusting tub of lard whose jealousy ended up ruining your life." Blitzo asked, which got a determined nod from the demon. "Well luckily for you, my company has loads of options to choose from! Do you want us to cut his car brakes? Put some arsenic in his morning coffee? Or even make it appear that he's finally lost his ability to look himself in the mirror and say 'Today is the day I stop lying to myself and finally do the world a favor?' Because I assure you that whatever the request, we can fill it!"

Blitzo suddenly narrowed his eyes and proceeded to steeple his fingers together in front of his face, adopting a more relaxed persona. "Provided of course you got the cash to pay for our...services."

Receiving another nod from the former human, Blitzo felt his eyes widen with pure happiness as he realized that this job would allow him to not only keep the company running for another week, but also allow him to finally buy that adorable collar that he had been meaning to get Loona ever since she had grown big enough to know the difference between chew toys and accessories.

Suddenly the sinner demon leaned forward, eyes squinting as though coming to a decision.

"Actually, I was hoping that you and your employees could wipe out the rest of that fat turd's family as well. I have enough to cover the cost for also taking out his bitch of a wife, but since your commercial says 'kids die for free' I was wondering if this would be enough to have you kill the entire Dursley Family. From what my younger son told me before he left, their child is nothing but a fucking bully. And he's only gonna get worse since his parents are either blind to his faults, or are actively encouraging him."

Nodding his head in understanding, though Blitzo was still annoyed that he had been forced to treat the ending lyric of his catchy commercial jingle as a legally binding promise, the Imp pulled out a heavy stack of papers and presented it to his client with a smile.

"Absolutely! No trouble at all!" he said proudly, watching with glee as his new client grabbed ahold of the papers without hesitation and began to look through them. "Now before we sign our contract, do you have any special requests you want to make regarding the nature of their deaths? I can assure you, my team and I can handle any request…no matter how depraved."

Giving the fish demon a chance to rummage through the variety of options he had been presented with, Blitzo fought the urge to shout with joy as the client grinned and pulled a particular paper out, choosing one of his team's favorite methods of killing people in the human world.

"I want you to make it look like a murder suicide."

Blitzo proceeded to grin as well, his yellow eyes glowing slightly.

...

"AND YOU CAN STAY IN THERE UNTIL YOU'VE LEARNED TO APPRECIATE OUR GENEROSITY! I WORK FIVE DAYS A WEEK TO PUT FOOD ON THIS TABLE, AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE GREEDY LITTLE FREAKS WHO THINK THAT THEY DESERVE SOMETHING MORE THAN BREAD AND WATER JUST BECAUSE THEY MANAGED NOT TO FUCK UP THEIR AUNT'S LIST OF CHORES!" Boomed a voice located within the town of Little Whinging. This was followed by the abrupt sound of slapping and a high-pitched cry of pain."

IF YOU ASK FOR MORE FOOD AGAIN, YOU AND I WILL BE HAVING MORE THAN A STERN TALKING TO BOY!"

Wisely deciding to remain silent in the face of his uncle's rage, though he knew that wasn't a guaranteed way to keep himself out of danger, an eight year old Harry Potter did his best to ignore his nearly empty tummy as he silently cursed his own stupidity.

It had started out as a rather good day…at least as far as he considered such things.

Harry's whale of a cousin had only chased him around the school yard once before seeking a less nimble victim, whilst his list of chores had been both short and had carried no risk to his overall health besides maybe getting a little dizzy from floor soap Aunt Petunia had bought. And maybe almost getting stung by a bee while pruning the garden hadn't even been that bad.

And perhaps best of all, he had managed to move fast enough with Uncle Vernon's morning breakfast that not only had he been permitted to eat his own breakfast; a piece of lightly buttered toast and a dried out apple before cleaning up, but also without having to listen to the overweight man make nasty comments about his supposed 'freakishness.'

But sadly, this good day had been brought to an end when Harry had foolishly asked if it would be alright to have some of the leftover chicken that he himself had cooked for the family, instead of having to run the risk of cats getting it in the garbage can.

Harrywas lucky he had merely been tossed into his cupboard for daring to 'make demands above his station' as his uncle put it. Otherwise, he would have woken up with a splitting headache six hours after dinner had been concluded, no knowledge of what time it was, or what sort of mood he could expect his relatives to be in once they finally released him to make their breakfast.

It still wasn't a great situation either way, but at least it guaranteed food.

But young Harry Potter had come to terms with his life, and he felt he needed whatever silver lining he could get. Sometimes though, there was that slight whisper in the back of his head, asking what it'd be like to just maybe take that sharp knife from the kitchen and-

*DING DONG!*

Pulled out of his musings by the sound of the doorbell, and doing his best to remain quiet lest he attract the attention of his rushing aunt, Harry carefully placed his ear against the door of his cupboard as he did the one thing that gave him any opportunity to survive in the Dursley's household: eavesdropping.

"Why hello! Is this the Dursley residence?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Hearing the dismissive scoff of his aunt, the underfed boy could easily picture the look of disdain that was on his relative's face as she answered the question of the strangely cheerful-sounding stranger. Although Harry knew they wouldn't remain that way for long if his aunt's sharp tone and passive-aggressive comments to 'normal' people got to them.

"Yes it is. I am Mrs. Dursley. And what are you doing at my hou-?"

There was a sudden clicking sound, a gasp of shock from Harry's aunt, and then the beginning of a shriek before it was abruptly cut off by a loud *BANG!*

"DAMN IT MOXXIE! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO FIX THE FUCKING SAFETY ON THIS THING!"

"It's old sir! Maybe you should get a proper gun to use on our missions rather than the antique which keeps jamming!" yelled a far younger, but raspy-sounding voice in irritation.

Glaring at his bowtie-wearing employee, who at least had the decency to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault that his pistol had gone off wrong, Blitzo's bad mood instantly improved when his adopted daughter/hellhound/receptionist proved that she was more than just a pretty, yet sassy face for his company.

"Relax Blitz. She's still alive. I mean, yeah if left untreated, that wound would probably kill her. But Moxxie's fuck up does fall under the type of punishment our client wants." The hellhound stated with a bored tone, stepping past the gasping and immobilized form of the shrewd human woman. She also made sure to not get the pooling puddle of blood that was quickly forming beneath their target.

"Hmmm, I guess you have a point, Looney. Fishface was pretty specific that these people needed to suffer." Blitzo admitted as he stepped on the woman's gunshot wound deliberately to make her cry out in pain before walking into the house. "Soooo I suppose I can overlook this little misfire. It's not like this would be the first time Moxxie shot his pistol too early."

Enjoying the look of anger that had come over the smaller imp's face at this insult, the founder of the Immediate Murder Professionals adopted a more serious tone as he gave out further orders.

"Anyways, enough chit-chat! We have people to kill and a big tub of lard to pin it on! And a nice juicy stack of money to collect once we're back home." Blitzo exclaimed whilst holstering his weapon and turning back to coworkers.

"Moxxie! Take this-!" Blitzo paused as he took a good look at the dying woman before him and cringed. "Well, I want to say a woman, but her face kinda reminds me of a horse demon. Anyways, take this bleeding target to the living room and tie her up. Loona, you and I will be going after the-"

"Petunia?! What was that noi-WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU FREAKS? GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I CALL THE-"

*BOOM!*

I'm the one giving the fucking orders here fatass!" Blitzo shouted at the puce-colored face of Vernon Dursley, before the man's face was caved in by the direct shotgun blast from his hellhound.

Turning towards the grey-furred hellhound with a look of mild annoyance, though in truth he was actually secretly proud that Loona was willing to show some interest in his work, Blitzo merely sighed in acceptance at the slightly dismissive reply he received from her.

"What?" she stated. "You know how sensitive I am. And even if I generally don't give a crap about how relationships work, the fact that he chose to insult us first instead of commenting on his bleeding wife is sort of enough to warrant an instant death in my opinion."

"I hate to say it sir, but she's got a point. Hell, if Millie were here instead of back at the office, I can honestly say that this would look less like a case of extreme domestic violence and more like a rabid home invasion."

Nodding his head in agreement with Moxxie's observation, for he had seen first hand how Millie lost control whenever their targets were…less than faithful to their wedding vows, Blitzo pointed at the now dead sack of meat that had been their initial target.

"Fair enough I guess," he muttered. "Well before this fat sack of shit interrupted me: Loona, go upstairs and take out the kid. Shouldn't be too hard since our client says he is the ideal target, being both fat and dumb. Moxxie and I will stage the scene."

Earning a long suffering sigh from the pony-tailed canine, the well-dressed imp quickly sported a frown of confused annoyance as Loona stiffened, narrowed his eyes, and suddenly drew in a deep sniff. Snarling to herself, the hound got down on all fours and crawled down the hallway.

Both Moxxie and Blitzo watched in utter bewilderment as she stopped right at the end of the hallway before abruptly turning to the bottom of the stairs, where all three of them could see a cupboard that, much to their surprise, had a lock on it.

"Uuuuuh…Loona? What are you doing?"

Receiving a dismissive wave from his red-eyed female assistant, Blitzo found himself shooting his other young employee a glare as Moxxie decided to point out his reason for why the hellhound was acting the way she was. All the while, Loona grabbed ahold of the lock and proceeded to bend it out of shape just by squeezing it in her clawed hand easily.

"She probably smells some sort of stash, sir." the white-haired imp explained with an exasperated look. "If this guy was making loads of money, and she was nothing more than a housewife, I'd bet she drank a lot out of sheer bore-"

Loona practically tore the door off its hinges as she pulled it open, growling fiercely with her eyes glowing…before suddenly gaining a shocked expression which caused the two imps to go forward to see what had surprised the usually composed hellhound.

What they saw inside made both of their eyes widen and Moxxie lost his composure.

"WHAT IN THE FLYING FUCK IS A CHILD DOING IN THERE?!"

...

Thanks to the efforts of NightFury994...Finally getting around to updating/editing previous chapters.