Four year old Harry Potter huddled in his dark, dank cupboard, clutching at his wounded belly as he breathed shallowly. The stench of young blood filled the small space. His blood leaked from his body and onto the ground, then through the floorboards, where, unbeknownst to him and his 'family', was a sigil engraved deep inside the stone underneath the house. His blood from the floorboards and into the lines of the intricate sigil, filling it quickly.

He looked to the underside of the stairs as his vision started to get blurry, even with his glasses on. His breathing quickened as he started to panic. Twin trails of blood leaked from the corners of his mouth as his vision glazed over. Soon, his breathing stopped though his heart still continued to beat - though slowing and faint - trying desperately to keep his body alive, but to no avail.

His vision finally faded, and Harry though he would be gone from this awful place, finally free from his terrible life. What he didn't expect, however, was to open his eyes.

He opened his eyes to a pitch black room that seemed to stretch on for infinity, his thin, frail and scarred body floating in midair with a crimson cloth covering his lower chest and groan, giving him some modesty. On the ground were pure white feathers.

Across from him, to his leg, was a stick, standing vertically in the ground like a bird perch, and on that perch was a pitch black raven, somehow visible against the pitch black space around them.

"You want to be free and happy, yes?" Said the raven in a male's deep voice. It was obvious he would have a cultured upbringing if he were human.

"W-Who are you?" Asked Harry with his adorable four year old lisp.

This made the raven bristle in anger at the sound of his voice. Unbeknownst to Harry, he shouldn't have this many scars on his body, nor should he be dead. "Despicable, whoever the lot was, or is, that did this to you" he muttered in a dark, malice filled voice that dripped with venomous spite and malice.

"M-Mister?" Harry asked, his voice soft and terrified as he visibly tried to shrink in on himself.

The raven snapped out of his anger at the sound of the pure fear in his voice. "Oh! So sorry, little one" he said, and it sounded like he was smiling. "Anyways, I'm a demon. A Contract Demon, to be exact"

Harry, who had heard of demons in church the few times he went, was fascinated with the stories around them, and was in awe at the fact that he was laying in front of one.

"Anyways, you haven't answered my question" the raven demon said with a tilt of his head. "You want to be free and happy, yes? As happy as you can possibly be?"

"Y-Yes…" Harry replied slowly, after thinking a bit, shocked at the fact he was able to be free.

"I can grant that. I can give you freedom, and I can be yours to command. I will serve you and protect you. However, when you die, your should will be mine to devour" he said, slight mirth in his voice.

Harry, in one of his no self-esteem moments, muttered to the demon. "Do it now if you want… I have no real use for it…" he looked away at this and closed his eyes. The demon swore under his breath that he would torture the people who hurt this kid, who should be so innocent and happy, but instead was tainted and miserable.

Speaking up, the demon asked. "Are you sure you want to make a contract with me? Once you do, even for the shortest time, the pearl gates of Heaven will be forever shit to you" he said seriously.

There was slight hesitation in Harry, which was good for the demon, as he knew that this young soul still wasn't so far gone from the light that he didn't immediately agree with freedom and happiness if it meant he wouldn't be able to get into eternal happiness. "Yes…" he answered. To be sure, the demon asked again.

"One last time. Are. You. Sure?" He asked, turning his head to the side, the beady black eye peering into those emerald that had the potential to literally glow with power.

"Do it"This time, there was no hesitation, instead was a seriousness. A seriousness than no four year old should have.

"As you wish" said the raven demon as he bobbed his head. "Where do you want the sigil that binds us? Preferably somewhere you can hide easily"

Harry thought for a minute, before replying with; "My left eye, opposite my scar"

"As you wish, Young Master" said the demon as the pristine white feathers turned blacker than pitch before floating upwards as if something caused a wind. Briefly, Harry saw a tall man with long, raven black hair in a back suit with his back to him.

Harry bolted awake, panting softly, his bangs covering his left eye which seemed to glow purple in the dark cupboard. He knew that he had died, and knew that he had just sold his soul. And he didn't regret it. He closed his changed eye, pretending he hurt it when he was thrown into the cupboard. As he closed his other eye, absentmindedly noticing the absence of blood or a wound on his belly - it instead being a wicked scar to add to his collection - he felt the connection between him to the demon. Mentally, he asked what he should call him. The demon smiled and replied with two words, one name.

"Sebastian Michaelis"