AN: Okay, I will probably post another chapter sometime regardless of feedback, but all reviews are appreciated. Please tell me any grammatical errors that you spot that I missed. This is taking place in two different dimensions the Harry Potter one and the Kuroshitsuji one, the times move in each universe at different speeds determined by my will, so just saying.
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Kuroshitsuji, though I wish I did.
Rating: T, I suppose.
Phantomhive Mansion (1875)
Two rather drunken men sat drinking around the fireplace in a large office which hosted an extensive library. They were both celebrating; one for his son reaching his first birthday, for the best doctors in the country had told him and his wife the child would not, and the other for the news he had gotten yesterday that meant he would be a father in just a few short months. The men favored each other in looks despite not sharing blood, though the man with ebony black hair was married to the brunette's cousin.
The two had been best friends for years, even before Vincent had married Lawson's beautiful cousin Rachel, hence why they had meet up to celebrate their respective happy news, regardless of the fact they had not seen each other since their weddings years prior.
In fact their affectionate regard for one another and the heavy influence of alcohol addled brains is what lead to the following suggestion:
"My dear friend, why don't we, right here and now, while it is fresh upon our thoughts, bind our families together through our first born? What say you, Lawson?" Vincent Phantomhive suggested, clearly not thinking as he normally would, indicated by the heavy slurring of his words.
"I say: why didn't I think of" hic "of that? I'm sure it would give my Jasmine something to look forward to, she was so terrified at the thought of Hylas dying like those quack doctors predicted."Lawson said, fairing no better than his friend in the sobriety department.
It wasn't like if the children were both boys it would be a problem for them to be wed; but, planning your children's future matrimony should at least be done when you would remember what you had decided.
So, with Vincent Phantomhive and Lawson Potters' minds made in up in a haze of intoxication a binding wedding contract was constructed between the two. Who, amazingly, were able to actually write one up considering they were both three sheets to the wind. They made four copies all signed, sealed, and placed in a specified location that the butler of the Phantomhive house, Mr. Tanaka, came and checked every day for letters to be sent out.
And, with their task complete the two men collapsed on the couch. When waking up the next day they recollected nothing of what they had done last night in reference of the arranged marriage they had set up for their children, which Tanaka had already retrieved and sent out, one copy being locked up in Mr. Phantomhive's office desk.
Thus the two went on with their lives not at all remembering that they had made the wedding contract at all. In fact no one, but their respective lawyers and the Queen, whom they had also sent a copy to, knew anything about it. In fact, the men's deed would not be discovered until several years later when certain events had taken place.
And as fate would have it, neither man would live to discover what they had done.
Hogwarts, Headmaster's Private Quarters (1987)
Albus Dumbledore was frantic.
It was not an emotion that he found he enjoyed and he had soon come to the conclusion that if he never felt it again in his life he would be perfectly happy.
The reason for the great Albus Dumbledore feeling this deemed atrocious emotion? Today he had gone to check on Harry Potter for the first time in five and a half years. He had needed to make sure the Dursleys were making him submissive enough to mold into the perfect weapon against Tom when he returned. Because there was no doubt in Albus Wulfric Bryan Dumbledore's mind that Tom had delved into the deepest and darkest of arts, so it was common sense to predict that Tom had come up with a plan to return.
So, he had gone to make sure they had been treating Harry 'properly'.
They hadn't been.
When Dumbledore had arrived at Number 4 Private Drive he had discovered his worst nightmare.
The Dursleys had been out, but he knew from reports from Arabella that they never took Harry with them, so it didn't matter. He merely cast an aloraalla charm and walked through the door. The odor that hit him nearly knocked his hat off. His concern, growing every step he took and the odor got worse; hit the figurative roof when he opened the door of the cupboard under the stairs.
Dumbledore found his weapon against the darkness laying in a fetal position, the child's emaciated corpse growing maggots, the child having been dead for at least a week.
He had buried the body in an unmarked grave and returned to Hogwarts, and those were the events that lead him to pacing around his office trying to figure out what he was going to do.
"The blasted muggles weren't supposed to kill him!" he exclaimed to his bored looking familiar.
The Phoenix had been watching its frantic companion for the past two hours and it was getting old to be honest. The fiery bird went over to the bookshelf in a huff and knocked down an ancient and dusty tome from one of the stacks.
The silver bearded man almost scolded his familiar as he went to pick up the fallen book, but the words couldn't leave his mouth as he looked at the title of the book. With a renewed twinkle in his vibrant blue eyes the elderly man flipped through the frail pages with vigor.
"This is perfect Fawkes!"He announced to the phoenix before going on to mutter under his breath about necessary ingredients for the ritual he was going to perform.
If the Harry Potter of this world was dead, so be it. He could always take one from another world, it was all for the greater good after all.