M.P.O.: K, so I was watching Black Butler and had a crazy idea. It probably won't go anywhere, and I may give it up for something else, but hey, I tried it. So here you go, my very first Harry Potter/Black Butler Crossover.

Also, a lot of the original dialogue from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was used in the making of the first two chapters. I do not own, nor do I wish to, it would take all the fun out of writing fanfics for it. XD

Prologue: His Butler: Binding

The night was silent, the very grass as still as the stones placed so skillfully among their silky blades. A cauldron bubbled and spat, settled in the sparse vegetation near a great stone figurehead. A quivering pile of black sobbed, rocking from side to side slightly, clutching something to it's chest as it watched, brown eyes wide with fearful adoration. Hanging from the tombstone was a boy, his hair as black as night and wild as a crows nest. His right arm dripped steadily, a thin trail of blood oozing from a long slice along his forearm, barely touching the edge of a small round scar directly below his elbow. The boy was staring at the grass, his lips moving silently, as if he was praying. At his feet, the dripping blood pooled, though it seemed to move in an odd pattern, sliding in lines upon the earth at his feet. The lines were thin, the inner lines ruler straight, while the outer two lines curved, one as thin as the inner, while the outer flared at even intervals, forming a kind of diamond pattern.

'This had better work. I can't do this on my own...'

The cauldron was silent now, the liquid with having disappeared. A figure, tall with pale skin and long limbs stood, stepping easily over the rim, livid scarlet eyes focused on the boy before him.

"Robe me." The being demanded, it's voice husky and sinuous, like that of a predator. The huddled mass at it's feet rose, revealing itself to be a rat-like man, who fumbled with the silky black robes, draping them over the thin shoulders and tugging them into place. The man reached into a pocket, pulling out a thin wand, and stroked it's pale wood lovingly, his eyes never once leaving the hanging boy.

'Crap, it's not finished yet. Ignore the blood, ignore it.'

The being was talking now, having turned away to address the sniviling man at his feet. The boy did not listen, focusing instead of the mantra he had been chanting since the rat had taken his blood for a depraved ritual. He didn't even notice when his headache increased, a burning pain centered around the lightning shaped scar upon his brow. The blood had almost completed its's array, a pentacle within a spiked circle, shining crimson in color. The boy smiled faintly, ignoring the sounds of swishing cloaks as more people arrived, and the gentle circling of a giant snake in the grass nearby.

More talking. The man was pacing now, waxing eloquent about his death, his return and the loyalty of his followers. Another man screamed under a painful curse, but still the boy did not look up, did not stop his endless mantra. Finally, when the being turned, casting his scarlet eyes upon the boy once more, the boy grew silent and looked up, green eyes burning with hatred.

'Just one more thing...'

The man was smiling now, a wide macrabre grin that gave his lipless face an eerie cast, like skin stretched taught over a sun-bleached skull. The pale wand lifted, a sickly red glow lighting the tip for a split second before...


Pain, beyond anything he had ever imagined. His bones were on fire from within, the very marrow surely turned to lava by the sheer malice in that single word. He wanted it to end... to black out... to die.

Then, almost as soon as it had started, the pain disappeared, leaving his body wracked with phantom shivers, the ropes binding him to the tomb cutting into his skin as he hung, limp in the tight silk. He nearly sobbed, anger and hatred filling his veins.

'Dammit! Just one more thing, that's all I need!'

The ropes disappeared suddenly, cut by the very knife that had stolen his life's blood a mere hour before. He stumbled, catching himself in time and stood, trembling on one good leg, his other shaking beneath him. His feet were carefully placed so as to avoid disturbing the delicate lines of his Array, and he stood strong, glaring defiantly at the creature who dared call himself a wizard.

His wand was thrust back into his hand and he blinked at it, confused. Surely they didn't mean to give him this.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" The scarlet eyes glinted in the darkness, taunting, prowling. He did not answer, choosing instead to glare, green eyes glittering darkly from behind wire rimmed glasses.

"We bow to each other, Harry." The beast continued, bending a little though his eyes never once left Harry's face. "Come, the niceties must be observed... Dumbledore would like you to show manners... Bow to death, Harry..."

The black robed figures, 'Death Eaters' his mind supplied, were laughing while their leader gave a lipless parody of a smile. Harry did not bow. He refused to bow, before Death or anyone. He wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction...not even Voldemort.

"I said, bow..." The aforementioned man hissed, raising his wand. Harry felt his spine curve, and fought the feelign with all his worth. It was no use, however, as he had soon bent nearly double, his lips twisted in a soundless snarl while the Death Eater's laughed ever harder.

"Very good." Voldemort said softly, raising the wand. Harry rose from his bent position and glared all the harder, for all the good it did. "And now you face me like a man...straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...

"And now – we duel." The wand rose again, and the pain decended once more, white hot knives digging into every inch of his skin, his throat burning as he screamed, thrashing against the tombstone. He did not fall, no he could not, lest it ruin the array. Finally it stopped, and he leaned against the stone, panting and clutching his wand tightly. His limbs shook fiercely and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing in a heap atop Tom Riddle's grave.

"A little break, just a pause... That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Harry didn't answer. He refused to give Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing him beg. Scream in pain, yes, but beg to be killed? No. Never.

'Two words you evil bastard, two words...'

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again." Voldemort hissed, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Answer me! Imperio!"

It felt like he was floating, all of his worries swept away, his pain gone. It was bliss, he didn't have to think, all he had to do was dream... just answer no... say no... just answer no...

'I bloody well will not.'

Just answer no...

'Not going to say it.'

Just answer no...

'I WON'T!' Harry yelled, mentally and physically. The words echoed across the graveyard as the blissful warmth disappeared, like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over his head. All of his pain rushed back at him like a two ton truck, slamming into his nerves with all the force of a rampaging hippo. He stifled a whimper, pushing aside the pain and focusing on making sure that the Array was alright.

"You won't?" Voldemort hissed quietly. The death eaters were silent now, bone white masks turned to stare at him as he stood, trembling with the afteraffects of the Cruciatus. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die... Perhaps another dose of pain?"

Harry, unwilling to move for fear of disturbing the array, merely glared defiantly, steeling himself for the pain. And pain it was. Voldemort's fury was three times as great in the face of his defiance and it showed in the curse. His very skin felt as though it were being flayed away and fiendfyre allowed to run it's flaming tongues over the exposed nerves. He screamed, oh how he screamed, but still he did not move from his spot, never once picking up his feet or falling to the ground. Seconds passed, then a minute, and finally Voldemort raised his wand, a satisfied smirk playing about his face.

"You foolish boy. How Dumbledore thinks you can beat me I have no idea. I tire of these games." The Dark Lord paced listlessly, tapping the tip of his wand against his chin, scarlet eyes regarding the quivering form of his enemy. Turning to face him once more and raising his eyes to the Death Eaters, Voldermort smiled.

"Say goodbye to the Boy-Who-Lived. Avada Kedavra!" Green light rushed at him, filling his vision and Harry smiled as it hit him square in the chest. Laughter echoed in his ears as he fell, landing sprawled across the pentacle, his eyes glazed and the scar on his forehead oozing blood.

It was bright. Almost too bright to be comfortable. He was floating, weightless in a storm of feathers, drifting lazily from an endless sky. A red blanket covered his lower half, sparing this realm the sight of his nudity. This did not bother him. He was comfortable, why should it?

"You have summoned me. Why?" The voice was seductive and dark, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. There was something black, just at the edge of his vision. A twisted perch, with a massive crow settled on it as easily as the feathers drifted around them.

"I seek a contract."

"There are few who dare to seek one with me, boy. What is your reason?"

"A Dark Lord, a wizard of immense skill, who seeks to rid the world of mundane and magic alike. I am supposed to defeat him, only I have not the knowledge to do so."

"And so you seek the aid of a demon?"

"I seek the aid of one who can help me accomplish this goal."

"Clever boy. You realize that as soon as your Dark Lord is defeated, and your contract complete, that your soul will become mine."

"I...I understand. I am willing to make that sacrifice."

"You are a strong individual. Very well, make the Contract."

"I order you, Sebastian Michaelis, help me to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort in return for my immortal soul!"

His right eye burned as the seal faded into existence, marking him as Contracted. The demon's voice echoed in a throaty chuckle as the feathers darkened, white fading to the deepest black as the crow spread it's wings.

"As you wish, my Master."

Harry woke with a sharp gasp, one hand flying up to cover his eye, which burned faintly, the glittering purple seal glowing against the milky green iris. He smirked, looking up to see a figure in a black robe standing before him, crimson red eyes narrowed and a polite smile upon it's fey-like face. Voldemort stood a few feet away, eyes wide in shock and surprise at the appearance of this new player. The death eaters too were silent, eyes wide behind their masks as they took in the lanky frame of their new companion.

"Ah, do forgive my intrusion, but the young Master really should be getting back to school." Sebastian simply smiled at the dumbfounded looks he was getting and turned, stooping to hoist Harry into his arms as though the boy weighed no more than a feather. Harry smiled, hanging on to the white button-up shirt and closed his right eye, unwilling to give away his newest secret. The demon turned and began walking casually, heading for Cedric Diggory's body and the faintly glowing Triwizard Cup nearby. He managed to bend down, and set Harry next to the dead boy, and then summoned the cup before Voldemort moved, running towards them as he flung curses, none of which hit their mark. As the Cup reached them, Sebastian smiled and winked, his form dissolving into that of a jet black snake, which coiled about Harry's neck and nestled itself into his robes. Voldemort screamed his fury as the cup landed in Harry's hand, whisking the Boy-Who-Lived and his passengers away in a swirl of color.

M.P.O.: K, so this is the Prologue. Tell me what you think, and if I should continue. I warn you now, this one will not be updated nearly as quickly as you would probably like, mainly because I'm working on my Ranger's Apprentice fic, and working on outlines for my soon to be re-written other fics.