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Albus Dumbledore placed the infant on the doorstep of the Muggles’ house and set a letter next to the sleeping baby. He turned around and left with Minerva McGonagall, abandoning the savior of the wizarding world to a family of Muggles. They Apparated away, thinking Harry Potter should grow up away from the wizarding world, keeping him from becoming an arrogant selfish child. It was for the best really. Harry needed to understand that Muggles needed to be protected. They were as important to the world as wizards were.

Dumbledore didn’t know there was a storm that night, with winds so fierce that the letter was blown away, nor could he have guessed what Vernon Dursley’s reaction to having an infant dumped on his doorstep would be. If they had known, they would have taken Harry Potter anywhere else, but they didn’t know, and so they had no way of knowing that they wouldn’t see Harry Potter again for a great many years.

--

Vernon Dursley opened his front door early one morning, planning to get the paper. When he looked down, he saw a small infant wrapped in blankets on his doorstep. In shock, the beefy man lifted the small child and took in the ebony hair and sleeping face. He glanced around and didn’t see a note of any kind; the child had been abandoned. Now Vernon Dursley was by no means, a nice man, but he wasn’t a hateful bastard either, so he brought the baby into his home thinking to keep him for the morning until the child could be taken to an orphanage.

He took the child into the nursery that his own infant son was in and unwrapped the infant from the blanket. He began undoing the fastenings on the baby’s sleeper to see if the infant needed his nappy changed, when the child’s eyes opened and burned into him with green fire. The pale babe squirmed, twisting over onto his stomach revealing the skin of his back and the black birthmark on it. A circle of ancient runes.

Vernon Dursley immediately jerked his hands away from the child. He had seen that same mark before, and the person who had it had warned him that he was never to touch the skin of anyone who had that mark, to do so would mean his death. He glanced at the cot the baby was on, ensuring the child wouldn’t be able to get out of it as he fled the room and hurried to the nearest telephone. Vernon removed a blank business card from a drawer, and flipped it over to reveal a number in black ink. He set the card on the table holding the phone and dialed the numbers.

A cold voice answered after the second ring. “Name?”

“This is Vernon Dursley.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Dursley? Are you in need of another loan?” the freezing voice questioned.

Vernon Dursley shook slightly; he didn’t even want to think of borrowing money from this man again. People died when they didn’t pay their loans back on time. “No sir, I don’t need a loan.”

“Then what are you calling for, Dursley?” the voice hissed.

“A child was left on my doorstep sometime during the night. I found him this morning when I went…”

“And you called to tell me this?” the voice growled, interrupting the explanation.

1 Vernon Dursley’s gulp was audible to the man on the other end of the phone. “He has a mark just like your men do.” He held his breath at the silence that came over the line.

“Are you sure, Dursley? Because if you’re wrong…”

“I’m sure. I swear it, sir. It’s the same circle of weird shapes, the only difference is the shape in the center of the others is different,” Vernon hurriedly told the man.

The silence lasted longer this time. The man was wondering who the child could be. As far as he knew no one was missing, but he certainly couldn’t leave such a thing to chance. “I will be there shortly, Dursley. You are not to touch him. Do you understand?” the quiet voice threatened.

“Yes sir!” As soon as he answered, the call was cut off.

A little over forty minutes later Vernon Dursley heard a knock on his front door and opened it. His guest was a little over six feet tall. He had pale skin, black hair that fell to his waist in a braid, and hard silver eyes. The man reeked of power, strength, and wealth. He silently followed Dursley up the stairs to the nursery on the second floor; he entered behind the large man and followed the gesturing hand to the cot in the corner.

The dark figure walked to the cot and picked up the child, gazing briefly into the assessing emerald orbs. The child didn’t make a sound as he was carefully inspected. The man turned him around in his hands and gazed at the birthmark declaring the child to be one of them and of Evans Lineage. Lily’s child. The man absorbed the information quickly, as he always did, and wrapped the child up carefully, holding him close.

He turned to Vernon Dursley and spoke with an expressionless face, “You did the right thing by calling me, Dursley. I’m pleased.” He tuned out the mutterings of the large man and walked behind him whispering, “Obliviate.” He left the Muggle house that such a precious bundle had been left in with a slight sneer on his face.

At the end of the drive, a uniformed man stepped from the front seat of the car and hurried to open the door for the man holding the child. “My Lord.” The man bowed, closing the door after his superior had slid inside.

As the car pulled away from the curb, the man in the back seat was having a staring contest with the infant. They were assessing each other carefully. The man smiled down at the precocious boy and smirked. “Not many have the courage to look me in the eye, little one. You will do. You will do very well.” He placed his hand on the babe’s brow and stated, “Harry James Potter, I claim you as my heir.”

--

Rule One: Assassins take care of their own.

“Harry, come here,” the head assassin commanded.

“Yes father?” the hard voice asked.

Burning eyes looked into his cold ones and his father smirked. “You will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. You will be joining as a seventh-year student.”

The dark head nodded obediently. “Yes father.”

2 “I sent one of the Steels out earlier to fetch your school supplies. They have been placed outside your room and I expect you to be ready to leave in the morning.”

“Father?”

“You will be taking the Hogwarts Express to school,” the man stated.

“Why can’t I Apparate to Hogwarts, father?” Harry questioned.

“I don’t want your powers to be revealed to the Headmaster. He has been searching for you for sixteen years. Just because I have decided you shall attend this year, doesn’t mean I want him to know things he shouldn’t. Is that understood?” The hard eyes bore into him.

“Yes, sir. I understand. I will be ready to go in the morning.” Harry inclined his head and left the room. The young lord traversed the halls skillfully, without making a single sound. He arrived at his rooms and reached out with his magic, testing the parcels lying there. None had been tampered with. He opened the door to his rooms and stepped through the warded barrier.

Harry settled on his bed and began methodically opening the packages to see what the necessary supplies were. His first parcel held a plethora of items from the apothecary and would obviously be used for Potions. The second package contained his schooling books. Harry’s eyes scanned the titles. A smirk appeared on his face; his father must have signed him up for every class an assassin valued. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Potions. Of course, every book in his stack was labeled as advanced. This was going to be an interesting year.

Though he had never been to Hogwarts before, Harry knew all about it. There were students there that were of assassin blood and they had provided excellent reconnaissance. He had a memorized biography of every teacher that worked there, including strengths and weaknesses. He had a general idea of what he was getting himself into.

Harry pulled the next parcel over and opened it up, smiling at the neatly folded robes. He ran his hands over the soft satin and smirked. The black fabric was quite beautiful, the sleeves, collars, and hems, were all lined in ivory satin. Harry stroked the white material and wondered how many people would understand the significance. Not many he decided, maybe two or three of the other Submissives. The Dominants would not have seen such a thing in their lifetimes.

He rose from his bed and removed a large monogrammed trunk from his closet. With deft precision, Harry Potter filled the trunk with all of the items he had received. He glanced around the room and couldn’t see anything that would be needed at Hogwarts, so he sealed the trunk for transportation. He changed into his pajama bottoms and slid under the soft sheets, tightly clutching his daggers as he drifted off to sleep.

--

Harry awoke at 5:30 a.m. as he had every day since he had turned five and earned his first set of daggers. His body was instantly awake and ready to do anything that was demanded of it. He slid from the bed and gingerly stretched out his arm and leg muscles, preparing them for the tasks of the day. He stretched and relaxed his muscles for thirty minutes before heading into the bathroom to shower away the sweat that had accumulated on his pale skin. He stepped from the steamy room fifteen minutes later and pulled on a pair of tight leather trousers and a white satin shirt.

Harry strapped on his daggers with the casual repetitive assurance of one who has done the action a thousand 3 times over. The moment they touched his skin he relaxed slightly. Unarmed he was deadly, armed he was lethal in ways that made his assassin name legend. Harry shrunk the trunk and placed it in his pocket, heading out of his room and down to breakfast. He entered the large dining room and walked the length of the massive table to seat himself to the left of his father.

“You are ready to go, my son?” the slightly less cold than normal voice queried.

“Yes, father. I will be ready to depart after breakfast,” Harry replied instantly.

“Good.” The man and his son ate in silence. The only sounds heard were the light scraping of their silverware as they sliced their pancakes and sausage into smaller bites, as was befitting of a well-mannered noble. When the meal ended, Harry was excused from the table. Before he stepped through the dining room doors his father’s voice reached him, “I’m proud of you, Harry. I’m not sending you away as punishment.”

The young man turned and smiled slightly at the man he loved as a father. “I never thought you were, father. I’m sure you have a reason for sending me, and it’s not my place to question you.”

A small smirk spread across his father’s features. “You will be a great leader someday, Harry.”

The young man inclined his head. “Thank you, father, it’s my hope that I will be as great of a leader as you are.” He winked at the older man and left the room, smirking at the quiet laughter that reached his ears.

Harry left their manor and waited on the stairs for one of the Steels to bring the car around. When the black limousine appeared he walked down the steps and waited for one of the two young men to open the door for him. “Young master,” the man whispered while bowing and stepping out of the way. Harry nodded to the man and slid into the backseat, thinking about the coming year as he was driven to King’s Cross Station in Muggle London. The drive was long and boring, but it provided him with ample time to ponder what his father’s goal was in sending him to the school.

Harry had been commanded to stay hidden all of these years. Very few people had ever seen his face and of those few, only one person other than his father knew his real identity. He smiled slightly at the thought of seeing the Silver again. It would make life that much more interesting for him. The little Silver had won a place in heart two years ago when he had saved the child. His ruminations ended when the car finally reached its destination. He stepped through the open door and nodded at the Steel who spoke, “May your daggers stay sharp, young master.”

“And may yours find their target,” Harry replied completing the ritual. He strode confidently into the station, skillfully avoiding contact with the many Muggles that infested the place. He calmly approached the barrier, smoothing out his black-hooded cloak as he stepped onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He walked through the mass of people, arriving untouched at the Hogwarts Express and stepped onto the train, ignoring the curious eyes that followed his progress.

Harry seated himself in an empty compartment and warded the door against intrusion. He settled back in his seat and gazed out the window, watching the scenery pass by as the train headed to Northern Scotland. Several times during the trip, people attempted to open the compartment door but were unsuccessful. He sensed two people who touched the wards and were powerful enough to enter, but chose to leave the occupant to the privacy that had been deliberately sought out. He silently thanked those two; he was in the mood for silence and solitude.

Harry changed into the ivory trimmed robes when he was told they would be arriving at the school in a matter of minutes. When the Hogwarts Express reached its stop at the Hogsmeade Station, he calmly exited the train 4 and headed for the nearest carriage. Three other students joined him; their curious eyes appraised him. He ignored their attempts at conversation and took in his new surroundings with sharp eyes. The grounds were vast and he was pleased with the amount of hiding places that were readily available to an assassin.

Harry gracefully stepped down from the carriage and entered the famous school. He strode into the small antechamber that the first-years were standing in, and stepped back into the shadows. He smirked at the wide innocent eyes some of the children sported and wondered how anyone could be that naïve and innocent. These children would get hurt; they hadn’t been toughened up. Life would damage them. He easily spotted the eight children of assassin heritage and smiled to himself at the sight of his little Silver. He had no doubt that at the end of the night they would be in the same house.

An elderly witch with a slight smile on her tight lips stepped into the room and Harry immediately identified her as the Transfiguration teacher. McGonagall was her name. He listened to her over-rehearsed speech with one ear, taking in the nervous mutterings of the first-years with his other. Her eyes caught his across the room and she nodded to him slightly, acknowledging the savior’s presence. When she led the group of children from the room he followed at the end of the line, stopping at the doors to the Great Hall and leaning back against them as the young ones walked up the aisle to be sorted.

Every assassin Silver and above noticed the hooded figure in the back of the room and wondered at the person’s presence. They waited patiently through the Sorting Hat’s song and ceremony, knowing that they would soon learn the mysterious identity of the person who had warded the compartment on the train. Their eyes widened slightly when the hooded figure clapped at the sorting of Bella Zabini into Slytherin. The person hadn’t moved since entering and hadn’t applauded for anyone else. Interesting.

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly as she called out, “Potter, Harry.”

Harry stepped calmly from the back of the room and headed up the center aisle, ignoring the surprised shouts and cries of joy that echoed through the chamber. The voices got so loud that Headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet, quieting the students instantly. “As you can see, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts this year. He will be sorted by the hat and placed in his chosen house as a seventh-year student. I trust you will all make him feel welcome.” The twinkling blue eyes grew so bright they were almost blinding.

Harry lowered his hood and sat down on the small stool, allowing the Transfiguration teacher to place the ratty old hat on his head. He was glancing around, taking in the reactions of the students in the hall, some were shocked, others looked remarkably pleased, and some seemed completely indifferent. He would normally object to having his back to a table of people that could attack him, but he wasn’t worried about that tonight. Severus Snape was up at the staff table and he had partnered with the man on enough missions to trust the Dominant at his back.

“Mr. Potter, I thought that I would be seeing you several years ago and yet you did not come.”

“I had other things to do.”

“Yes, I see that. You have been busy haven’t you?”

“I have simply been doing what was asked of me.”

“You are the last member of the Evans Lineage. You received your mother’s legacy.”

“Yes, I did. Father says it was most unexpected.”

5 “Indeed, I’m surprised at the strength you possess. You will be great you know.”

Harry smirked slightly. “I already am great.”

“Yes, you are. But you will be even greater. So where shall I place you? Hufflepuff is certainly not for you; you are only loyal to your own kind. Gryffindors would be murdered in their beds; that just won’t do.” Harry snorted in agreement. “You are very knowledgeable, but I can see that you wish to be in Slytherin. They will embrace you as you believe, and you already trust the Head of House. Slytherin will serve you well, and you will serve them just as well. SLYTHERIN!”

Harry Potter stepped from the stool and handed the hat to a stunned Minerva McGonagall. The silence was broken, by the thunderous clapping of Slytherin House. They had the savior of the wizarding world in their house. They turned superior smirks on the other tables, gloating at having such a powerful wizard in their noble house. Harry removed his cloak and draped it over his arm, revealing himself to the hungry eyes for the first time since his arrival.

Harry was five feet six and slender. His build was deceptively fragile, and people often underestimated him resulting in their deaths. His emerald eyes were cold and hard and his face was expressionless. His ebony hair fell to his hips in a thick braid of silk, swishing slightly with every step he took. Three people in the hall knew him for what he was.

--

Severus Snape was still staring in shock. The skilled assassin he had partnered with several times over the past few years was Harry Potter. He could barely believe it. He had hated the young man’s father more than anything, but he couldn’t hate Harry, he had come to know quite a bit about the boy and he liked him. The boy was nothing like his arrogant spoiled father. He was hardworking and very talented. Snape looked at the young man with pride and nodded to Harry when the fierce assassin glanced at him. Potter was in his house. He was pleased.

--

Bella Zabini smiled happily when the hood was thrown back and the face of the mysterious figure was revealed to her. It was her Harry. He had come to Hogwarts the same year she had. A fond smile flitted across her face as she observed the assassin who had saved her life when she was only nine years old. She had been a Steel back then and not as skilled. After Harry had saved her, she had worked night and day to increase her skills, seeking to thank him with her hard work. She had never been more proud than the day she reached the rank of Silver and received a note of congratulations from Harry.

--

Neville Longbottom stared at the hooded figure in shock. His eyes devoured the ivory lining over and over again in disbelief. It had been centuries since anyone had earned the right to wear such a cloak. He observed as the cloak was removed and noticed identical edging on the young man’s robes as well. The Platinum rose from his seat and strode across the hall, hoping to avoid a disaster.

--

Harry walked confidently around the Slytherin table, heading for the empty seat in the group of seventh-year students. He nodded to Bella as he passed her and fought not to return the happy smile she gave him. His eyes 6 raked the table, easily identifying those of assassin heritage and those who were simply pure-blood wizards and witches. He reached the middle of the table and glanced at the students surrounding his seat. The blond to his left reached for his hand saying, “I’m Draco Mal…”

His words were cut off as Neville Longbottom appeared and grabbed his wrist. The Slytherins stared at the Gryffindor in shock. He was touching their Prince! The assassins in the hall were shocked for a completely different reason: a Submissive had touched a Dominant. Submissives were notorious for avoiding physical contact with anyone but other Submissives. They only touched Dominants that were prospective mates or as a warning for a serious breach in conduct.

Neville turned and faced the frigid form of Harry Potter and spoke only loud enough for the Slytherins to hear, “Forgive him, he didn’t know.”

Harry’s eyes bore into the honey-brown orbs of the assassin standing before him. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Name?”

Neville’s eyes flickered across the table before returning to Harry’s. “Neville Longbottom,” he replied.

Harry nodded in acceptance of the answer; an assassin would never reveal his true name before spectators. “Rank?”

“Platinum,” the young man replied calmly. “The blond is also a Platinum. Please don’t punish him for his ignorance.”

Harry tilted his head curiously to the side, observing the sandy-haired young man before him. “You like this Dominant,” he stated so quietly only Neville could hear him and smirked slightly at the blush he received in response. “You stopped his actions, I will let it go this time.” His eyes grew hard. “But I will not let it go again. Make sure he understands the rules, before he decides to play the game.”

Neville sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered and bowed slightly to Harry before releasing Draco Malfoy’s wrist and walking back to the Gryffindor table. The silence of the room quickly disappeared as the students tried to figure out what had just happened. They watched as Harry Potter sat at the Slytherin table and began eating calmly, acting as if nothing had happened. Seeing that nothing interesting was going to happen, they returned to their own meals and began telling their housemates about their summer vacations.

Harry chose his dinner with precise movements, eating slowly as he listened to the gossip in the hall. He rolled his eyes at some of the ridiculous things he was hearing. He finished his food and sat calmly, waiting for the meal to end. His eyes drifted to the blond at his left when the quietly spoken words reached his ears. “I apologize for my actions. I was merely trying to introduce myself.”

Harry searched the gray eyes and saw the sincerity they contained, and the self-disgust that he had acted in a manner unbefitting of an assassin. “You have already been forgiven and yet you choose to apologize for yourself. You have great potential, Platinum.” He smirked as the gray eyes widened at the compliment.

“Thank you,” Draco replied. “I shall try this again, my name is Draco Malfoy. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Harry nodded to the blond and appreciated the fact that the man learned so quickly; he hadn’t extended his hand at all. For a Dominant to reach for a Submissive meant the Dominant felt he had the right to touch the Submissive. It was one of the gravest insults in their culture. Harry had only let it slide because the blond had not known he was an assassin. After the discussion between him and Longbottom, every assassin in the hall should know that he was a powerful Submissive and that they were to keep their hands to themselves. 7 His eyes turned to the person on Draco’s left and he was introduced to the rest of the seventh-year students in Slytherin. “This is Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and this is…”

“Blaise Zabini, it is an honor to meet you,” the dark velvety voice interrupted the blond. Harry’s eyes turned to the man who had spoken and devoured the sight of him. Blaise Zabini was dark in skin and eye. His hair was black as coal and reached his hips in the customary braid of a high-ranked assassin. Harry shivered slightly at the sight, and noticed the way Blaise’s eyes caught the miniscule movement.

“The honor is mine,” Harry stated calmly before his attention was once again drawn to the High Table. He rolled his eyes and tuned out the Headmaster’s predictable speech. Assassins followed their own rules; rules made by anyone else were followed if and only if an assassin felt like following them. When the old man quit rambling, he rose from his seat and followed the other Slytherins down into the dungeons.

The group stopped before a blank wall of stone. The first-years glanced at their prefects with curious eyes, wondering where they were. Harry simply waited for the password; he knew what was coming. Draco’s eyes scanned the new students and spoke, “This is the entrance to our common room. To find it you simply need to remember that it’s across from the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.” The blond pointed to the opposite wall and their Founder. “To enter the common room you need the password, which will change weekly. You are never, under any circumstances to give the password to a member of another house. Is that understood?” When the first-years agreed he nodded. “This week’s password is, Tujours Pur. Do not forget it.”

The wall had opened at his words and Draco stepped to the side, allowing the younger students to pass him and enter the common room. He smirked slightly at the sounds of awe coming from the new Slytherins. He stepped through the entrance, with Harry entering behind him. Harry’s eyes immediately scanned the room, his mind was filing away all possible entrances, exits, and hiding places should any of those be necessary at some point.

When he was satisfied with his knowledge of the layout of the area, Harry walked over to a plush armchair that was placed near the crackling fireplace. The other members of the house watched him, surreptitiously observing the legendary savior. He had been seated for only a few moments when Bella Zabini approached him. Her dark coloring was reminiscent of her brother, and Harry smiled slightly at his little Silver. She grinned widely at him before throwing herself into his arms and curling up in his lap.

“It’s so good to see you again, Harry,” she stated happily.

“It’s good to see you again as well, my little Silver.” His eyes lost their hard look for a moment as he gazed at the little girl he held in his arms. He felt his protective instincts rise as she toyed with his long braid. This little one was precious to him, and he would keep her safe.

The Slytherins were watching the interaction in shocked awe. Not even Blaise had known that his little sister knew Harry Potter, and they were apparently quite close if the protective way he held her was anything to go by. Every Slytherin in the room instantly understood that anyone who messed with Bella Zabini was going to suffer. Harry Potter had marked her as his own. His to protect.

Their eyes were torn from the spectacle as the entrance opened again and Severus Snape walked into the common room. His cold black eyes assessed the assembled students. “My name is Severus Snape. I’m the Potions teacher and your Head of House. You have been honored, by being placed in the noblest of the four houses. Our Founder, Salazar Slytherin, was a great wizard with marvelous skills. That you are here means you possess something that he prizes.

8 As Slytherins, you will stand together. We are a family. We are one. If you must fight, do so in these rooms; the moment you enter the halls you will assist each other. I don’t care if your mortal enemy is getting tortured, you will help them. Petty rivalries and political differences do not matter outside these chambers. You will comport yourself properly, you will arrive to your classes on time, you will turn in your homework on time, and you will not lose us House Points.” His cool gaze swept the room.

“If you have a problem of any kind, feel free to tell a prefect or myself. If you need assistance in any of your classes, the upper years will help you between the hours of 5:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. every evening. For those of you who were marked at birth, training is held from 6:00 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. every morning in the Slytherin Dueling Chambers, which an upper year student will take you to tomorrow. Are there any questions?” He smirked when they all answered with a, ‘No Sir!’

Severus walked across the room to where Harry and Bella were curled up together. His eyes took in the sight with amusement, his lips curling slightly. The sight of such a high-ranked assassin with a little girl cuddled up to him was amusing to say the least. He lifted his gaze until black eyes met emerald and nodded to the young man. “Potter, I would appreciate your presence in my chambers for breakfast on Saturday.”

Harry nodded to his companion. They had much to discuss. “Thank you for the invitation, sir. I’ll be there.” Severus bowed slightly and exited the room, leaving behind a group of Slytherins who were wondering at the friendly interaction between the two men. Harry sat in the chair with Bella chatting quietly on his lap as the other Slytherins were shown their dorms for the year. When the clock struck ten he rose from his seat and helped Bella stand as well. “Come, little Silver. It’s time for bed.”

“Yes, Harry,” she replied quietly as she slipped into her room.

Harry continued up the stairs until he found the seventh-year boys’ dorms. He entered the room, removing his trunk from his pocket and enlarging it. He then gathered his pajamas and toiletries, heading to the bathroom to perform his evening ablutions. He returned a few minutes later in his satin pajamas and slid into his bed, casting wards and proximity alarms before allowing himself to relax, and drift off to sleep clutching his daggers.

He awoke three hours later to the sound of the door opening and closing quietly. He noticed that Blaise and Draco had also woken up at the sound and that both boys were curious as to who had snuck into their room so late at night. The small figure approached Harry’s bed and his eyes could just make out whom the small form was. With a brief flick of his wrist, the wards adjusted allowing the person entrance.

Harry lifted the edge of his blankets and not a moment later felt the heat of Bella Zabini as she curled up next to him. He gently rubbed her shaking shoulders, willing her to relax in the safety of his arms. He tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled as she kissed his neck and fell asleep, safe from the demons that haunted her. His attention was caught by the quiet words that drifted from the bed to his left.

“You are the one who rescued her aren’t you?” Blaise Zabini asked. “She has nightmares every night, but it normally takes her hours to fall back asleep once she wakes up. Yet here she is, asleep in a matter of minutes because she is with you.”

“Yes, I saved her,” Harry answered just as quietly.

“Thank you,” Blaise whispered. “She means so much to us. Thank you for saving her.”

Harry smiled down at the little girl in his arms. “There is no need to thank me. I understand how special she is.” Harry’s words echoed in the room as he drifted off to sleep once again, clutching his only weakness.

9 --

Rule Two: Assassins must earn their rank.

Harry’s eyes snapped open at 5:30 a.m. on the dot. Harry shifted slightly, momentarily tightening his hold on Bella. He sensed that Draco and Blaise were also awake and the rustling sound from their beds indicated that they would be rising shortly. Harry ran his hands through Bella’s dark hair and smiled at the quiet grumbling sound she made at having her rest disturbed. “Time to wake up, my little Silver,” Harry stated.

Bella’s eyes shot open and her muscles tensed for a moment, before she remembered where she was and that she was safe with Harry. She stretched languidly and grinned at the powerful young man. “Morning, Harry. Thank you for letting me stay last night.”

“It was no problem, little Silver, but we need to get up now the training starts at six,” Harry replied. The two assassins visited the bathroom briefly before settling onto the floor and beginning their morning stretches. They sat with their legs together and reached forward until their bodies were bent completely in half. Then they spread their legs in a ‘v’, before leaning right and left easily touching their toes. As their muscles limbered up their stretches became more complicated. The two rose to their feet and bent forward until they could lay their palms flat on the floor. They continued these various exercises until it was time for them to head to training.

The common room had several students from every year present waiting for their leaders to take them to the training rooms. When everyone had assembled, Blaise and Draco opened the doorway into the hall and led the column of students to the right, down a side corridor that students couldn’t see unless they were shown its location. The group of Slytherins entered the Slytherin Dueling Chambers and separated into their ranking groups for training. Over the next five minutes the Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs joined them.

Severus walked into the room and sealed the doors. He stood before the group of assembled students and spoke, “Welcome back to those of you who have been here before, and welcome to those of you who have not been here before.” His black eyes scanned the students. “In these chambers you are all assassins and you will all work together. There are no separate houses in these rooms. I will not have anyone sabotaging anyone else’s training or work. Is that understood?” his voice was cold and demanding.

The instant agreement of the students made him smirk. “Now, for those of you who don’t know, we do not train by school year. We train by rank. Every morning you will be expected to attend and further your skills. You will work in your group until such a time as someone of the highest rank feels you have earned the right to rank up and receive new daggers. Until you have earned Platinum Daggers, you will be known only by your rank. Once you graduate from Silver Daggers you will be named by the person who decides you are ready for the next level.”

Severus watched as the younger and less skilled students’ eyes narrowed in determination. “The third highest honor an assassin can receive is their assassin name. There is no greater disgrace than not receiving a name, so I expect all of you to earn that honor.” He watched them nodding in satisfaction. “It will not be easy, and you will most likely come to hate me and your other instructors, but you will remain courteous to the higher ranked individuals who are passing on their knowledge to you. Is that understood?” his voice demanded agreement.

“Yes, sir!” they all answered.

“Good. Steels, you will be practicing throwing your daggers against the far wall; the targets are already set up for you.” The lowest ranked students immediately set out to do just that. “Silvers, you will be practicing close combat this morning. You will be participating in two person duels the first to draw blood wins.” The Silvers nodded and headed over to the large sparring arena. “Platinums, you will be working on hand to hand combat, 10 in the event you should inexplicably lose your daggers, or be in a situation were it is inadvisable to use your daggers. It will be melee style fighting, everyone for themselves.” The smallest group of students headed over to another sparring arena to begin practice.

Black eyes turned on Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter. “You two are free to practice in whatever way you feel is necessary.” He walked away from them and headed over to assist the Silvers in their close combat fights.

Blaise’s dark brown eyes took in Harry Potter’s form curiously, as many eyes around the room were. They knew that he was a Submissive because of the confrontation at dinner last night; what they did not know was his rank. He had not joined any of the groups and Snape had told him he could do as he wished. Two theories instantly came to their minds, either he was being given special treatment because he was Harry Potter, or he was such a highly ranked Platinum that he would decimate the other students.

Assassins have a very polite and precise culture and rules. It is clearly not a good idea to offend someone who has the potential to kill you should you greatly offend them. In the case of Submissives, they had the choice on whether or not to reveal their daggers before a Dominant. A Dominant cannot ask what their rank is; they must be shown willingly. Most Submissives were willing to show their daggers. After all, a Dominant would never offer to court someone whose skills are greatly inferior.

Submissives can ask for another Submissives’ rank, but only when that Submissive is ranked below the one asking. That Harry Potter had asked Neville Longbottom his rank last night showed the students that Harry was higher ranked than Neville and since Neville was the highest ranked Submissive in the group, no one had the ability to ask Harry what his rank was. The assassins also knew that Neville Longbottom had recognized something they hadn’t about Harry Potter. He clearly knew what the young man’s rank was, but they were prohibited from asking; Neville would never answer. Assassins kept each other’s secrets.

Harry ignored the watching eyes and walked over to the track that ran a full-circuit around the room. The two sparring arenas were in the center of it and the target practice wall was located behind the far end of the track. Harry loosely stretched his limbs one last time before starting at a gentle jog and heading down the track. His movements were fluid and beautiful to watch, several people in the room were observing him as he jogged around the track.

As he moved around the circuit Harry was taking in the sight of the training students. He saw many with great potential and some that he knew would never pass the rank of Silver. However, it was the Platinum Melee that held his attention. The nine students were really going at it. Even without the use of their daggers, it was easy to see why they were ranked as Platinums. Harry smirked slightly as Neville twisted his head to the side, avoiding the punch of the Ravenclaw student and landing an elbow in the boy’s solar plexus before ducking the kick aimed at his head by one of the Hufflepuffs.

He didn’t say anything as Blaise joined him on the track; his attention was still on the fighting. Harry snickered quietly when Draco rolled under a Hufflepuff’s spread legs and pulled the boy down before quickly regaining his feet. It had come down to the two remaining fighters, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. “Draco is going to win,” Blaise told him.

Harry’s face was expressionless as he replied, “Neville Longbottom will defeat him.” He felt the brief glance Blaise shot at him.

“Why would you think that?” Blaise questioned, wondering what Harry had seen that he hadn’t.

“Because he has to prove himself,” Harry replied calmly, right as Neville took Draco’s legs out from under him and pinned the blond to the mat. Harry saw Blaise nod in understanding. 11 The sudden cheer from the Silvers drew Harry’s attention and his gaze found Bella Zabini with her dagger against the throat of a third-year Gryffindor. He nodded to her when he noticed she was looking at him, pleased with her success. The smile that grew across her face made his eyes soften for just a moment, but she saw it and smiled even wider. As they came to the far side of the track Harry felt a shifting in the air and snapped his arm up, capturing the dagger between two fingers centimeters away from his face.

The chamber grew quiet as the assembled students saw what had happened. A first-year Ravenclaw Steel stepped forward and bowed before Harry in horror. Everyone watched in shock. What would the highly ranked young man do? Harry lowered the dagger and handed it back to the quivering boy. He took it without comment and didn’t move. “Your grip is incorrect,” Harry stated into the silence. “Left-handed people use a reverse grip when throwing daggers.”

The Ravenclaw’s eyes widened as he stared at the floor. Advice? He was being given advice when he had lost control of his dagger? Harry Potter was doing everything he could to help the boy save face when he could have flayed him alive. “Thank you. I will do as you say.”

Harry nodded to the student. “Return to your practice.”

“Yes, sir.” He stepped back into line and adjusted his grip as he was instructed. The dagger still didn’t hit the target, but it was a lot closer than it had been before. With a nervous smile on his face, the boy summoned his dagger back into his hand and continued practicing.

When Harry began running again the students all returned to their assigned tasks, surprised at what had happened, yet grateful that Potter had been lenient. When the practice had come to an end a first-year Hufflepuff walked up to Harry and asked him, “Why didn’t you punish him for endangering you?”

Bella Zabini burst into giggles, attracting the attention of the students as they were leaving the room. “He was never in any danger. It would be an insult to his skills to imply that a Steel would be capable of harming him in any way.” She patted the blushing girl on the back and then snagged Harry’s hand, pulling him from the room while talking animatedly.

--

After showering and dressing for the day, the Slytherins headed up to the Great Hall for breakfast. They settled down in their seats and piled their plates with bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, and a wide selection of other foods. If the other three houses were shocked that a first-year student was sitting with the ruling hierarchy of Slytherin House, they kept their speculation quiet.

The flood of owls came pouring into the room with the morning mail and copies of the Daily Prophet were dropped off all over the hall.

Bella Zabini picked up Harry’s paper and read it aloud.

Harry Potter is at Hogwarts!

It has come to this writer’s attention that after sixteen years of looking for our missing savior he has been found. A mysterious cloaked figure that appeared at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and then rode the Hogwarts Express was revealed later that evening during the Sorting Ceremony.

12 A student had this to say, “On the train, one of the compartments had been warded and no one could enter it. We later discovered this was Harry Potter’s compartment.”

This writer wonders if he had something to hide. Or maybe he simply wanted to be alone? After his disappearance, all of those years ago, the wizarding world has been searching for him; no clues were ever found. Where has he been all of these years?

Minerva McGonagall stated, “We have sent a letter out to him every year and he never replied until this year.”

Has he been at a different school and finally decided to attend Hogwarts? Has he even been in Britain? The public has a great many questions and only one person has answers. Will we get them?

The shock of the evening was Mr. Potter’s sorting. One Gryffindor student said, “When the hat called out ‘Slytherin’ I was completely shocked. Both of his parents were Gryffindors; he should be a Gryffindor too. The Slytherins stole him from us!”

Regardless of his parentage, the Sorting Hat is never wrong and Mr. Potter will remain in Slytherin for his seventh-year until he graduates. This writer wonders what his life has been like if he isn’t a Gryffindor as we all believed he would be. Though we have many questions and few answers, I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say, “Welcome back, Mr. Potter!”

Rita Skeeter Freelance Reporter

Bella set down the paper with a glare. “How dare they call us thieves?”

Harry raised her chin until her gaze met his. “Ignore them, little Silver. You know you’re not a thief and that is all that matters.” He kept his rage at such a comment tightly leased.

The Slytherins were slightly subdued as they battled their irritation during breakfast. When the meal ended, Severus Snape walked by them handing out class schedules as he went. Harry glanced down at his classes and memorized his schedule. He had Double Potions and Double Charms in the morning and Arithmancy in the afternoon on even dated days. On odd dated days, he had Double Transfiguration and Double Defense Against the Dark Arts in the morning and Ancient Runes in the afternoon. A comparison of schedules with the other Slytherin seventh-year assassins showed identical classes.

They rose from their seats and headed out of the hall when Neville Longbottom approached them. He calmly walked up to Harry and extended his own schedule for inspection. Harry’s eyes scanned it before his gaze rose. “We have the same classes, except for one. You have Herbology when I have Potions.”

Neville smiled slightly. “I’ll see you in Charms then.”

They were turning to leave when a loud obnoxious voice shouted, “Oi! Neville, introduce me to Potter.”

Neville’s eyes hardened as he spoke, “Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley.”

Harry observed the idiotic redhead calmly, fighting down a shiver of distaste. The boy looked like he thought he was God’s Gift to the World. Harry nodded to Neville, turned his back, and began walking away from the Gryffindor.

“Oi! Think you’re better than me, Potter?” Ron yelled. 13 Harry turned his head slightly and spoke, “No, I don’t think I’m better than you.” His eyes fell to Bella.

“He knows he’s better than you,” she continued superiorly, as she also turned and headed off to her first class of the day.

The remaining Slytherins snickered at the blushing red visage of Ron Weasley as they headed off to their classes. Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent joined Harry in the NEWT Potions class. Severus had just opened his mouth to begin his lecture when the door opened and Dumbledore walked in. His twinkling blue eyes bore into Harry. “Ah, Severus, I was hoping that I might borrow our young Mr. Potter for a few minutes.”

Severus’ black eyes glanced briefly at Harry as he spoke. “Of course, Headmaster. Potter, I’m sure that one of the Slytherins will be able to provide you with adequate notes later.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore stated. “I apologize for having interrupted your class, Severus. I hope it goes well.” He left the room with Harry Potter on his heels.

The two wizards traversed the necessary corridors quietly, neither one talked. Harry found himself before a statue of a gargoyle and didn’t look surprised at all when it jumped aside at the spoken words, “Blood Pops.” Harry stepped onto the staircase and rode it to the top, following the Headmaster into an office that was buried in various moving magical objects. His eyes briefly alit upon a beautiful phoenix before he turned his attention to the Headmaster.

“Ah, good to see you, my boy. Can I get you some tea?” Dumbledore asked.

“No thank you.”

“A lemon drop perhaps?”

“No thank you,” Harry replied firmly.

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed slightly before returning full force. “How are you doing, my boy?”

“I am quite well, Headmaster. Thank you for asking,” was Harry’s bored response.

“And how is Slytherin House treating you?” the old man questioned.

“They have been very polite and courteous,” Harry replied in a monotone voice.

“So you haven’t been having any trouble?”

“No. No trouble at all.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore stated in a voice that implied exactly the opposite.

“I was quite pleased to get your response this summer saying that you would be attending this year. May I ask what made you change your mind?” Albus queried.

Harry smirked internally as he remembered his father’s instructions. “My father decided it was time for me to attend.”

14 The blue eyes widened. “Your father?”

“Yes of course, my father.”

“You do realize, my boy, that your father is dead,” Dumbledore stated. He didn’t like the thought of Harry Potter claiming anyone other than James as his father.

“My biological father may have died but the man I consider my father is very much alive,” Harry replied.

“I see – would it be possible for me to meet with him?” the Headmaster wondered aloud.

Harry’s lips almost twitched in amusement. “I’m afraid not, sir. My father is a very busy man.”

Dumbledore’s eyes hardened slightly. “Ah yes, of course he must be. May I ask where you have been all of these years, my boy?”

Harry easily brushed aside Dumbledore’s attempt at Legilimency and replied, “I’ve done a great deal of traveling over the years. My father wanted me to see new cultures and learn their customs.” It is easier to blend in that way, he added silently to himself.

“So then you are happy, dear boy?”

Harry could easily see through the fake cheerful voice. “Yes, I’m quite pleased with my circumstances,” he answered the man.

“Very well then,” Dumbledore stated, slightly irritated. “Please return to your Potions class, Professor Snape will be expecting you.”

Harry nodded to the Headmaster and left the room, heading down to the dungeons. The return trip took him less time than the one going up had. He opened the door to the Potions Lab and slipped inside quietly, reclaiming his seat next to Pansy Parkinson. She smiled slightly at him and gestured to the two pieces of parchment she had out that were being covered in everything Snape said by her Note-Taking Quills. “Thank you,” he whispered to her and she nodded her head in acceptance of his statement.

The lecture covered the theoretical part of making Veritaserum. A complex potion that forced the drinker to tell the truth. Harry listened to Snape’s voice and let his mind drift; he already knew how to brew this particular potion. It was a mandatory requirement for his ranking as an assassin. He was brought back to attention by a question Snape asked him. He heard the Gryffindors quietly sniggering, thinking he wouldn’t know the answer, as he hadn’t been paying attention. “Three drops, sir.”

Snape smirked. “Correct Mr. Potter, ten points to Slytherin.” As the words left his mouth, the class ended and Snape gave them two feet of parchment on the properties of the Veritaserum Potion as their homework due next class period. The students packed up and headed off for their next classes, several of them heading to the same place.

Harry entered the Charms classroom and settled himself at a table near the back; Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini joined him. He listened to the two young men discuss training that morning. It seemed that Draco was frustrated at having lost to Longbottom but was also impressed that the young man had defeated him. Blaise was happily sharing the news that Harry had known who would win the fight, which irritated and impressed Draco at the same time.

15 The blond finally turned to him and asked, “How did you know that he was going to win?”

Harry cocked an ebony eyebrow. “He wanted to win more than you did.”

“How could you know that?” Draco queried in confusion.

Harry observed the blond’s reactions calmly. “It’s not my place to say.” Neville Longbottom, who settled into the seat next to Harry’s on the outside, joined them a few moments later. “How was your Herbology class?” Harry asked politely.

“Enlightening and enjoyable,” Neville replied. “How was your Potions class?”

“The part I was able to attend went very well.” He saw the slight questioning look on the Gryffindor’s face and continued, “The Headmaster removed me from the class for an interrogation.”

The Slytherins snickered quietly at his side. “How did that go?” Neville asked in amusement.

“Quite well,” Harry replied, “for me anyway.” The amused snickers grew louder, drawing curious glances from around the room.

“Glad to hear it,” Neville replied.

Harry grinned maliciously. “He wants to meet my father.”

Neville Longbottom wondered at the statement before all of the clues clicked in his head. His eyes widened in horror before he burst into hysterical laughter. “He… h-he w-wants… y-your… father…” The room full of students gazed at the hysterical Gryffindor, wondering what in the world could be so amusing. Blaise and Draco were wondering what they had missed with that statement.

“Of course, I told him it was quite impossible. My father is such a busy man after all,” Harry stated solemnly, making Neville laugh all the harder.

He was still laughing a minute later when Professor Flitwick arrived. The short man smiled at Neville and began his opening lecture welcoming them all to NEWT Charms and telling them what the year would hold for them. The students removed their Note-Taking Quills and settled back to listen as the notes wrote themselves providing them with material to look over later if necessary. The talk among students was minimal as the tiny teacher held their attention with his demonstration of the spells that they would learn over the coming year.

--

It was an excited group of seventh-year students that headed down to lunch. Flitwick’s display of skills had been amazing and they were looking forward to their next class where they would begin learning those spells themselves. Neville separated from them as they entered the Great Hall heading for his own table; the Slytherins settled in at their table and dug into the delicious sandwiches and fruit that had been prepared for them.

Harry grabbed the last piece of watermelon and placed it on Bella’s plate, her radiant smile was all the thanks he needed for getting the coveted food. “How do you like your classes?” he asked her.

She lowered the slice of watermelon and gave him a thoughtful look. “Defense was fairly interesting, the professor seems competent, and my Herbology class was a lot of fun.”

16 “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, little Silver. You need to finish up, lunch will end soon.” Bella nodded to him and happily ate her watermelon, enjoying the mouth-watering flavor.

--

Professor Vector was meticulous in her speech to her Arithmancy class. She welcomed them, informed them of how hard they would need to work to achieve their NEWT, and promptly gave them several equations to work on. The mathematical equations were something that Harry occasionally had trouble with, but Blaise managed to explain to him how they needed to be solved. It was certainly not his strongest subject, but he wasn’t terrible at it either.

That afternoon, the Slytherins in the common room were glancing frequently at the entrance, wondering where Harry Potter had disappeared too. The closer to dinner it became, the more worried the students grew. A few had even gone looking for him, but hadn’t found him. Twenty minutes before dinner was set to start, Harry Potter walked into the common room covered in sweat and headed for the showers. Even those students who weren’t assassins could easily tell that he had been off training somewhere.

Dinner was a calm affair. The Slytherins had slowly acclimated to the presence of the savior of the wizarding world in their house and many of the students found they liked him. He was clearly strong and powerful, but he didn’t use that power to belittle the less powerful. He was intelligent and he had informed the younger years he would help them in Defense if they needed it. Yes, Harry Potter was very polite, forgiving, and gracious, for an assassin.

--

Rule Three: An assassin must work daily to hone their skills.

Harry rose the next morning like clockwork and prepared himself for the day. He joined the rest of the Slytherins in the common room and headed with them to the Dueling Chambers. The students talked casually as they awaited the arrival of the other houses. When everyone had assembled for the morning, Severus Snape stepped up with the day’s instructions.

The teacher gazed at his students and spoke, “This morning things will be slightly different for some of you. I will be training the Steels today. Blaise Zabini has kindly agreed to take the Silvers and Harry Potter will be teaching the Platinums.” His hard gaze scanned the students. “You will follow the instructions you are given without complaint, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the crowd of students replied.

“Very well then, you may begin.” Severus led the Steels over to the far wall once again to show them the proper way to throw their daggers.

Zabini took the Silvers into the larger arena and spoke to them. “Today will be a review of all that you learned as a Steel. I will be evaluating you and ensuring that you are not falling behind in your training. We will begin with standard dodging rolls.” He watched the students line up and take turns performing leaping and standing rolls.

Harry Potter stood before the group of nine Platinums, his eyes raking over them, assessing their forms. He walked in a circle around the students taking in everything from the way they stood to how they balanced their weight. He was pleased with what he saw. They all had the potential to be great. “You will be under my tutelage

17 for at least the next month,” he told them. “My name is Harry Potter, you may call me Harry or Potter.” He watched as they all assessed him in return. “Line up and introduce yourselves.”

“Neville Longbottom, seventh-year, Gryffindor House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Draco Malfoy, seventh-year, Slytherin House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Pansy Parkinson, seventh-year, Slytherin House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Millicent Bulstrode, seventh-year, Slytherin House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Hannah Abbot, seventh-year, Hufflepuff House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Ernie Macmillan, seventh-year, Hufflepuff House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Susan Bones, seventh-year, Hufflepuff House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Michael Corner, seventh-year, Ravenclaw House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

“Mandy Brocklehurst, seventh-year, Ravenclaw House, elevated from Silver by Severus Snape.”

Harry nodded as his last student introduced herself. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he told them all. “A few of you have been neglecting your basic physical training, so I will be addressing that first; we will spend the morning running. Come.” He led the students to the track and allowed them a few minutes to stretch before leading them around the room.

Neville Longbottom pulled up alongside Harry and whispered, “It is an honor to be training with you, young master.”

Harry’s eyes briefly flickered to the side. “You are quite observant, Platinum. It will be interesting training you and your comrades.”

“Might I be so bold as to ask why you came this year?” Neville queried.

Harry’s lips cocked slightly. “My father wished for me to come.” The statement said it all.

“I for one am pleased,” Neville stated. “You have been here less than seventy-two hours and you are already livening things up.”

“I live to make things interesting,” Harry replied.

The other Platinums and indeed a few other assassins in the room were curious about the close conversation that Harry and Neville were having, but no one was able to hear what they were discussing. The two quietly chatted for the rest of the training period before heading off to their separate dorms to get ready for the day. They inclined their heads to each other when they entered the Great Hall at roughly the same time and headed to their tables for breakfast.

The owl post came in as usual, dropping letters and papers off to the many subscribers, however, a rare sight at Hogwarts was the pitch-black eagle owl that swept into the room. Every assassin in the room was aware of the owl, known to them as the deliverer, for he delivered unto them the letters that detailed their assignments. A black envelope was dropped before Neville Longbottom’s plate and he slipped it into his robes to read later. To 18 the shock of many, the owl then flew across the hall and settled on Harry Potter’s shoulder. The owl was notorious for being ill tempered and hated contact with humans.

Harry lifted one hand absent-mindedly and stroked the soft black feathers. “Good morning, Horus. How are you?” The eagle owl preened his feathers and nipped Harry’s hair. Harry removed a sealed envelope from his own pocket and attached it to the owl’s leg. “Deliver this to him would you?” His eyes thawed slightly as Horus nipped his fingers and took off again.

Blaise Zabini observed the scene calculatingly. When the owl left he spoke up, “That owl doesn’t like anybody.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “You are correct of course. That owl doesn’t like anybody, except for me.” With that cryptic statement, he rose from his seat and headed off to his first class of the day, Double Transfiguration.

Double Transfiguration was an annoying class. Harry had no problem with the subject, in fact, he quite liked transfiguring; likewise the professor was competent and demanding. The thing that he hated was Ron Weasley’s presence in the class. The redhead just didn’t know when to shut up. It had started the moment he walked through the door. As he settled into a seat near the back of the room, Ron Weasley sat directly behind him and talked during the entire length of Professor McGonagall’s ‘Welcome to NEWT Transfiguration’ speech.

He ignored the comments about how he should have been in Gryffindor because his parents were. He discounted the statements that Slytherin was full of slimy snakes and that they would try and turn him into the next Dark Lord. He shunned the questions of where he had been and what he had been learning; he was quite happy to ignore the pathetic worm, until said worm crawled over the line.

“You are weak, Potter. Truly weak. Allowing a first-year to defend you, can’t stand up to your infant of a girlfriend, Potter?” Weasley taunted, frustrated that he was being ignored.

Harry and Blaise tensed in anger. How dare that filth speak of Bella in such a way? Without a second thought, Harry slid the tip of one of his daggers out of the edge of his sleeve and whispered quietly. He was rewarded an instant later with a scream of agony from the desk behind him, and turned with the rest of the class to see Ron Weasley writhing on the floor.

Minerva McGonagall hurried to the back of the room, shocked at the sight of the fallen Gryffindor. Both of Ron Weasley’s legs were snapped, bones showing through the skin and blood pouring from the wounds onto the floor. She quickly conjured some bandages to soak up the blood. “Did anyone see what happened?” she demanded to know.

“No,” the class answered honestly.

McGonagall sighed as she levitated the boy from the room towards the infirmary. “Class dismissed!” she called as she left the room.

Harry and Blaise raised an eyebrow at each other. They had both sent a hex that would only damage one leg. The answer they both sought flashed through their eyes and they inclined their heads slightly to each other before turning and leaving the room.

Harry stalked quietly through the halls, radiating anger with every step he took. He knew he was being followed, but he didn’t care, no one would be able to hurt him. He slipped through the school doors and headed down to the lake, settling back against a large oak tree he allowed the memories to take him.

19 --

Harry was brought back to himself when Bella Zabini curled up in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and clutched her tightly. “Never again,” he whispered, a slight glaze still in his eyes, “never again will I allow anyone to do that to you.”

Bella shivered at the fierce look in her Harry’s eyes, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. The fervent promise in his voice allowed her to relax against him. “I know, Harry. I know.” Her quiet statement of confidence in him calmed him somewhat, and he rose with her in his arms.

He glanced up and looked directly at Blaise Zabini. He nodded his gratitude to the other assassin, somehow Blaise had known that he needed to know Bella was safe, and so he had clearly sent for her. Harry walked beside the insightful young man and placed Bella back on the ground, holding her hand as they walked back into the school. They entered Hogwarts and Bella hurried off to her next class as they made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“How did you know?” Harry asked his silent companion curiously.

“Because I felt the same way,” Blaise answered solemnly.

Harry accepted the statement and walked into the classroom moments before the bell rang. He joined Pansy and Draco at their table assuring them that he was fine. When the professor walked in his mind instantly processed the information he had on the man.

His name was Remus Lupin. He had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the same year Severus Snape had. He was a former Gryffindor and part of a group of four students known as the Marauders, of which Harry’s biological father was also a member. The man was a werewolf, and was also the only assassin to ever make Platinum Rank without using Silver Daggers, for obvious reasons.

Professor Lupin stood before the seventh-year students and smiled. “Welcome to the NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts class, I expect you all to work hard this year. For those of you who choose not to work hard, don’t come whining to me when you fail your NEWT. Today will be spent reviewing what you have learned in the past to ensure you haven’t forgotten anything over the holidays.” He watched the students relax against their seats.

“Mr. Boot, please name for me a spell that can disarm your opponent.”

The Ravenclaw smirked. “Expelliarmus, sir.”

“Correct. Miss Granger, what spell would I use if I encountered a Boggart?”

“Riddikulus, sir,” the Gryffindor answered immediately.

“Correct. Miss Bones, please name two spells that can bind your adversary.”

“Petrificus Totalus and Incarcerous can both bind an attacker, sir.”

“Very good. Mr. Malfoy, name two spells that can release an ally from their bindings.”

“Relashio and Finite Incantatum, sir,” the blond Slytherin answered.

20 The questioning continued for several minutes. “I’m impressed. You answered every question correctly.” His eyes hardened slightly. “For those of you who didn’t know those answers, I hope you were paying attention, I wasn’t reviewing these spells for myself.” A few of the students lowered their gazes bashfully. “Now, on your feet, you will be participating in two on two duels. Pick your partners.”

Neville walked over to Harry’s side and smiled. “You and I against Blaise and Draco would be a pretty fair duel.” The four young men nodded their heads in agreement and headed to the front of the room waiting for their turn. They watched as the other students battled, easily declaring the victors before the duel ended.

After the other groups had gone, the four students stepped up onto the wide dueling platform. Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow at the chosen pairs; this would indeed be interesting. “This duel will be between the Potter- Longbottom pair and the Zabini-Malfoy pair. Rules are as follows: no Unforgivables, no killing, nothing that will cause permanent damage, the winner will be the team that still stands. Are these rules acceptable and understood?”

“Yes, sir!” they all replied.

Neville Longbottom glanced at Harry and saw the slight irritation on the young man’s face. He clearly didn’t want to reveal his daggers, but assassins used their daggers instead of wands as conduits for their magic. Someone of Harry’s rank could most likely perform wandless magic, but if he did so, then the Headmaster would find out, which left him with no choice but to reveal his daggers and thus his status to the other assassins present.

Neville removed one of his daggers from his left sleeve and offered it to Harry. The assassins in the room sucked in a quiet breath at the honor Neville was showing Potter. Assassins protected their daggers and hated having anyone else touch them. It was considered a mortal insult to touch someone’s daggers without their permission, which was almost never granted.

Harry Potter calmly reached out and took the offered dagger into his hand, twirling it lightly and testing the balance. His emerald orbs burned into honey-brown eyes as he spoke, “I will treat it as if it were my own.” He ignored the curious gazes of the audience, as those who didn’t know what was occurring blinked in confusion. Because his eyes were still locked with Neville’s, he didn’t see the slight flicker of frustration in Blaise Zabini’s eyes at being denied the chance to finally find out what Harry Potter’s rank was.

Neville and Harry broke eye contact when they turned to look at their opponents. Submissives vs. Dominants. Who would emerge victorious? The four young men stood before each other in the center of the dueling platform, as one they bowed to their opponents and turned their backs, walking the required ten paces with confidence. They turned to face each other and waited but a moment before their professor signaled to them that they could begin.

Harry shifted to the left, avoiding the Disarming Hex Draco had sent at him. He lifted the Platinum Dagger in his hand and whispered, “Incarcerus.” Malfoy dodged the Binding Spell and Harry rolled out of the way of the stream of light that was aimed at his chest. He twisted his torso and leapt back to his feet, smirking slightly. This was more entertaining than training against mannequins. He fired off a quick Tickling Hex at Draco and saw Blaise immediately cancel the spell. Interesting.

He watched as Neville was hit with ‘Petrificus Totalus’ and immediately cast ‘Finite Incantatum’ on his teammate, twisting his body sharply to the side as he did so to avoid the Temporary-Blinding Hex that Malfoy had thrown at him. Harry and Blaise raised the daggers in their hands as one and both stated, “Reducto!” Draco and Neville were each hit with a Blasting Hex and were thrown off the dueling platform, disqualifying them.

21 The two remaining assassins took in each other’s forms carefully. They had spent the last ten minutes or so observing each other’s dueling styles; both men left were highly skilled. Blaise immediately cast a barrage of Blasting Hexes that Harry dove under. Harry slid a few feet on his back, sending Binding Hex after Binding Hex at his opponent. Harry rolled to his left, rising to his feet as he avoided a curse that would have blinded him for a week.

He twisted around, pressing his back to Blaise’s back and grabbed onto his adversary’s dark braid. Harry felt a sharp tug and found himself against Blaise’s chest, in an identical position to the man before him. Both of them had their hands wrapped up in each other’s braid. Both of them had a dagger at the other’s throat.

The students were frozen in awe at the sight of the duel. The beauty of the dance between the two young men had captivated them. Remus Lupin stepped forward, freeing the students from the frozen silence. “A draw. Ten points to Gryffindor and thirty points to Slytherin, well done.”

Blaise and Harry released each other’s hair slowly before stepping back from each other. As Blaise was lowering his dagger, Harry caught sight of it and his eyes widened slightly. Obsidian. Blaise Zabini had Obsidian Daggers, the daggers that only the Dominant Warriors possessed.

Blaise noticed the exact moment Harry Potter caught sight of his dagger. He watched the green eyes as they widened in shock before narrowing in contemplation. It was the calculating look on Harry’s face that interested him though. It was identical to the look he knew appeared in his eyes when he pondered the question of what type of daggers Harry Potter possessed. The young man was brilliantly skilled, and a Submissive as well. Harry was someone that would attract very powerful assassins in courtship. The moment he finally saw Harry Potter’s daggers, was the moment he would decide his future.

No one else in the room had seen the expression in Harry Potter’s eyes, and even if he had been facing the students, less than three of them may have noticed the change. Harry and Blaise inclined their heads to each other before stepping down from the platform and joining their classmates. Harry walked over to Neville Longbottom’s side and handed him the Platinum Dagger. “My thanks for the use of your dagger,” he stated.

Neville replied, “It was used judiciously and brought you victory, I’m pleased it served you well.”

Harry stepped forward and whispered in Neville’s ear, “My mother made those daggers. I could feel her magic in the one you let me use. I’m pleased they’re serving you well.” He swept from the room as they were dismissed, leaving a shocked Gryffindor behind.

Neville remained in the same spot for several minutes as he absorbed the knowledge that Harry had given him. Lily Evans was known as a genius when it came to the crafting of daggers. She had made her first set at age eleven and had progressed from there. The Assassin Lord only gave daggers made by the Prodigy to those who possessed skills that he respected. He had known that he was a good assassin, but this knowledge changed his opinion of himself. He hadn’t known that he was so highly valued. For the first time in his life, Neville Longbottom didn’t wonder if his parents were proud of him.

--

Lunch passed quickly that Thursday afternoon; the students shared tales of their classes as they ate their food. Harry ate in relative silence, his mind clearly elsewhere as he contemplated the revelation of Blaise’s status. He had known that there were twenty-nine Obsidian Daggered Assassins at the moment, but he had thought Severus Snape was the only one at Hogwarts. He was irritated that he hadn’t known there was a second one, and pleased that the mystery of Blaise’s treatment by Snape had been cleared up.

22 Harry’s thoughts were drifting when he remembered something his father had told him several years ago.

Harry walked into his father’s study with a confident stride, his thirteen-year-old frame moved silently and swiftly. He stopped when he reached his father’s desk and seated himself in one of the leather chairs. He sat up straight; he was proud of the reason he had been summoned.

His father sat behind the desk, watching him with calculating eyes that also shown with pride. “You have brought great honor upon your line and myself, Harry. From the moment I brought you here, you worked hard and never complained. You have trained when asked, completed missions when asked, and I’m pleased to claim you as my son.” Harry allowed a smile to appear on his face as he gazed at his father.

“Last night you completed the final qualification necessary to achieve your new rank.” The Assassin Lord slid a rectangular wooden box across the desk and smirked at the joy on his son’s face. He watched the boy open it and gaze in awe at his new daggers before removing them and testing their weight and balance.

The dark head snapped up and Harry stated, “You made these.”

His father’s lips twitched. “Indeed, I did.”

“You never make daggers,” Harry whispered in shock.

Quiet snickers met his statement. “You are quite right. I have only made two sets of daggers in my life. The Obsidian set I made went to a Dominant a few weeks ago.”

“Why did you make him daggers as well?” Harry was undeniably curious, many people sought daggers made by the Assassin Lord, and they had never received them. Why was this Dominant special?

“He is a prodigy just as you are. He is also thirteen,” his father answered.

Harry grinned at his father. “He would be worthy of me then. He must be skilled and very talented if he has reached such a rank at his age. I can understand how hard he must have applied himself.” Harry’s lips twitched. “When I am of a suitable age I will allow this Obsidian to court me.” He left the study to the sound of his father’s amused laughter.

Bella tugged on Harry’s hand reminding him of where he was. He saw that most of the students had already left the Great Hall for their afternoon classes. He thanked the girl and followed Draco through the halls to their Ancient Runes class; his mind was full of questions. Was Blaise Zabini that prodigy child? He was the right age, and Harry could attest to the young man’s power and skills himself. He would have to ponder this and observe the talented Slytherin over the next few weeks.

Harry sat between Neville and Blaise at a table in the middle of the room, his mind still occupied until their professor arrived. He listened with one ear to her admonitions about hard work and studying, ignoring the rest until her final words drifted through his mind and gained his attention. “You will have a project that lasts until the end of the term. This project will be completed in pairs of two; the two people in the pair must have compatible magic to work on this project. I will allow you the next twenty minutes to find someone in the room whose magic is compatible with yours. Once everyone is paired up I will give you the specifications of this project.”

Those of assassin heritage in the room shivered as they stared at their professor in shock. Magical compatibility? She expected them to allow someone else to essentially touch and taste their magic? The idea was horrifying, but mandatory. When they determined that there was an even number of assassin students in the 23 class, they relaxed slightly upon figuring that they would be paired with another assassin and that only that one person would touch their magic. The people paired up by rank, knowing that it would be easier for their magic to work together if their power levels were close to the same.

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot quickly found that they could work together. Neville and Draco also discovered this and settled back in their seats now that the invasive process had ended. Pansy and Millicent also found they were compatible, as did several other students in the class.

Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini had locked eyes as soon as the professor had finished her statement. They both knew that the person they were staring at was the only person in the room who might be powerful enough to be compatible with them, and yet they both did not wish to proceed for different reasons. Harry hated the thought of making himself vulnerable by allowing a Dominant to taste his magic, and Blaise didn’t want to offend Harry by tasting his magic.

“Just get it over with,” Harry finally muttered.

“Are you sure?” Blaise asked him seriously. When he saw the boy nod, Blaise reached forward and gently took Harry’s hand in his own. Once he had skin contact he summoned his magic and forced it to surround Harry, encasing the younger man in it. Harry sighed before summoning his own magic and allowing it to leave his skin, entwining it with Blaise’s. Both young men shivered at the feeling and instantly withdrew their magic into their own bodies. Harry turned his head to face the front of the room dropping Blaise’s hand as an almost invisible blush crept up his cheeks. It had felt so – intimate.

Blaise closed his eyes the moment Harry turned away. That had felt so – wonderful. He wanted to feel their magic moving together again, and he vowed that someday he would.

--

Their professor stood in the front of the classroom and watched as her students paired off and found someone they could work with. When the last two students had acknowledged their compatibility, she stepped forward and spoke, “For those of you who don’t already know this, every spell that has ever been created has been made with Ancient Runes. The creator generally decides on a spell he or she wishes to make and then finds runes that correspond with their task. Combining the correct runes in the correct order will give you the base of a spell.”

The students listened to her explanation carefully. “Once the runes are chosen, magic is cast into them and brings the spell to life, so to speak. After a spell has been brought to life, a wand movement and spoken name are assigned to the spell then integrated into it, completing the process. The blood of the creator is then added to the completed product granting the spell freedom so that other wizards and witches may use it. Any questions?”

Hermione Granger raised her hand. “So if I understood you correctly, professor, wizards and witches could create custom spells and never set them free, making it unable for another to use their spell.”

“That is correct, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor.” When no other questions were raised, she smiled at them. “Excellent, now for the reason I paired you up, creating a new spell is time-consuming and takes a great deal of magic. I know it will be almost impossible unless you are able to work in tandem with another person. Your project for this term is to create a spell with your partner, and set it free, so that everyone can use it. You will be able to work on it every class period, but it is highly likely that you will need to put in some of your own time as well.” Class ended with her speech and the excited students left the room.

The Slytherin seventh-years headed down to the dungeons discussing the ingenuity of the class and lamenting the necessity of having their magic tasted. They stepped into the common room and settled by the fireplace. It 24 was almost five minutes later that they noticed Harry wasn’t with them. Once again, students looked for him, once again, no one found him, and once again, he arrived back sweaty and limber. After showering, he joined his fellow students in the common room and assisted a few of the first-year students with their Defense essays.

After a loud dinner that held the continuing discussion of making a new spell, the students headed back to their common rooms for the evening. Harry stretched out on the floor before the fire and completed his Potions essay that was due in the morning. After he finished, he had a quiet discussion with Bella before sending the little Silver off to bed and heading to his own seeking rest for the night.

--

At the same time that Harry was drifting off to sleep, Neville Longbottom was preparing for bed in the Gryffindor Tower. He padded silently into the dorm he shared with his fellow peers, and slid into his bed, closing and warding the curtains. Neville settled back against his pillows and reached into the school robes that he had worn all day. With calm hands, he removed the black envelope that had been delivered to him at breakfast and smiled into the darkness. Missions helped with the monotony of school life. The Gryffindor’s eyes flared eagerly as he broke the seal and opened the letter.

--

Rule Four: An assassin must be willing to work with other assassins.

Harry joined his fellow students in the Slytherin Dueling Chambers for their morning practice. As they split into their groups, Neville beckoned to Harry, showing him the black envelope. Harry smirked slightly and turned to the Platinums. “Start stretching. You will have five minutes to warm up.” He walked over to Neville and took the offered letter. Harry removed the parchment and read the instructions.

Platinum Moonless Night,

You are assigned with the following task.

In the Muggle world, a Mafia Boss has been causing trouble for the Muggle Government. The Muggle Prime Minister requested that we take care of the task in exchange for appropriate compensation.

You will work on this task with my son; I am sure you recognized his robes immediately and realized who and what he is. He will be the lead in this mission, and I trust you will work well with him.

Included are the blueprints for the location the mark will be in and the security measures they have taken. This mission is to be completed by midnight on Sunday.

May your daggers stay sharp,

Empty Shadows

Harry raised a black eyebrow thoughtfully as he read the letter. When he finished he turned his calculating eyes on Neville and asked, “Have you ever had an assignment during the school year before?”

“Yes, I have,” Neville replied solemnly.

“Good, then you know what to do later today.” He saw the young man nod and continued, “Meet me back here

25 after Arithmancy and we will go over the details.”

“As you will it,” Neville replied, before the two men turned and joined the other Platinums.

The practice that morning was tense, as the younger and older students picked up on the single-minded concentration two of their comrades now possessed. Missions were always important, and the reminder of this made everyone wish to train harder and work faster so that they could reach their goals. A mission given to Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter was sure to be a highly ranked and dangerous one. It left many speculating on what the task would be, though they would never be so uncouth as to ask.

When the time for training came to an end, the students hurried back to their common rooms to prepare for the day. As Harry left, he brushed past Severus and stated, “Sunday.” His cryptic statement was met with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod.

The atmosphere of the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables at breakfast was somewhat gloomy. The younger years were wondering why their unofficial leaders were so solemn. Neville and Harry ate in silence, contemplating everything that they would need to do in order to prepare for the mission. Plans, back-up plans, weapons necessary, alibis, the usual.

Bella Zabini didn’t like how tense Harry was becoming, so she decided to help defuse the situation by distracting him. “Harry, are you accepting courtship offers at the moment?”

Harry blinked down at her. “Courtship offers?”

Bella noticed several students listening not-so-discreetly to her conversation. “Yes, courtship offers. You do want to get bonded don’t you?”

Harry’s eyes thawed slightly. “Yes, Bella, I do want to get bonded someday.” The little girl smiled widely at his answer.

“Good. So are you accepting offers now?” she asked and gazed up at him curiously.

“No, Bella, not now.” Harry watched as she deflated slightly at the answer, ignoring the disappointed looks on some of the students’ faces. “My father has informed me that he will be planning the Courtship Gala to coincide with the winter holidays.”

Bella’s gaze suddenly became very serious. “Who will he be inviting?”

Harry locked eyes with the fierce little girl. “The worthy.” He blinked in shock at the pleased smile on her face.

“Good.” Her voice rang with satisfaction.

Harry rose and headed to his first class of the day with Bella’s words still ringing in his mind. The moment he stepped through the Great Hall doors Bella turned to her brother and stated, “You better win him, Blaise. No one else is worthy of my Harry.”

The chocolate-eyed Slytherin gazed down at his sister and queried, “You know what he is, don’t you.”

“Of course I do,” she replied.

Blaise nodded to his sister and left the Great Hall, more determined than ever to find out what rank Harry Potter 26 was. Neville deferred to the black-haired boy, Bella worshipped him, and Severus Snape respected him. Harry Potter was an enigma, and Blaise Zabini was determined to figure him out.

--

The seventh-year NEWT Potions class walked into the lab quietly, not wishing to disturb their professor as he finished the potion he was working on in the front of the room. They placed their assigned essays on his desk as they walked to their seats, settling silently into place. Severus Snape completed the potion a few moments later and raised his head to see his students.

Snape cocked an eyebrow and spoke, “The world must be coming to an end. You actually managed to shut up.” His comment was met with quiet snickers from the Slytherins and blushes from the other houses. “Well, who can tell the rest of the class what this potion is?”

Hermione Granger’s hand shot in the air. “Miss Granger,” Snape drawled with a sneer.

“That is a potion known as Skele-gro, sir. It is used for mending broken and fractured bones, though it’s also able to completely re-grow bones that are missing. It takes a little over thirteen hours to brew correctly,” the Gryffindor exclaimed excitedly.

“Indeed,” Snape stated.

A moment later Poppy Pomfrey strode into the room agitatedly. “Severus, have you finished that Skele-gro yet? Mr. Weasley desperately needs some.”

Snape poured the potion into vials and levitated them over to the mediwitch. “I have just finished.”

“Thank you so much, Severus!” Poppy stated as she hurried from the room levitating the vials behind her.

A smirk briefly appeared on Harry’s face. “You brewed that potion for Mr. Weasley, professor?” he asked.

Snape grinned at his student maliciously. “Indeed. It seems that the entire supply of Skele-gro in the infirmary inexplicably disappeared yesterday morning. Due to the cruel prank the boy has spent the whole night in fits of agony.”

“That is horrible news, sir,” Harry replied slyly.

“Indeed, it is. Ten points to Slytherin for caring about the welfare of another student.” Snape’s words made Harry and Blaise bite their tongues in glee. “Now, I do believe that today you will be attempting to brew Veritaserum. I have spent the last month completing the base of the potion for you; today you will finish it. You will be testing it on your partner at the end of the process. Do try to get it right, if brewed incorrectly you will poison each other.”

The students immediately set to work adding the necessary ingredients to the base of the potion, constantly checking that the flame was at the right level and that the heat was being evenly distributed. Harry stood at the cauldron stirring both clockwise and anti-clockwise as the directions called for, in alteration. Blaise was responsible for preparing and adding the final ingredients at the assigned time. With twenty minutes left until the end of class the students finished up their potions.

Snape walked slowly around the room, inspecting the work. “Adequate, I suppose,” he sneered at two Gryffindors. “Very well done,” he complimented his snakes. “You may now test your potion on your partner, 27 you are to ask them two questions to ensure it is working, and then you may ask one question of your choice. I suggest you choose your question wisely, and remember that your partner will know what you asked them. Begin!”

Harry turned to Blaise and carefully placed three drops of the silver potion on the young man’s tongue. He waited for the assassin’s eyes to glaze slightly.

“What is your younger sister’s name?” Harry asked.

“Bella.”

“What House are you in at Hogwarts?” he queried.

“Slytherin,” Blaise replied.

Now for the third question, Harry kept his eyes blank of emotion as he asked, “How old were you when you received your Obsidian Daggers?”

“Thirteen,” Blaise instantly replied. A flicker of something unknown flashed through Harry’s eyes as he administered the antidote. Blaise blinked slowly, coming back to himself. He lifted a small vial, placed three drops on Harry’s tongue, and waited for the potion to take hold. “What is your full name?”

“Harry James Evans Potter,” he replied.

“When is your birthday?” Blaise queried.

“July 31st, 1980.”

Blaise silently contemplated his last question. Why had Harry wanted to know when he had gotten his daggers? He was frustrated, trying to decide on one of the many questions he had. He couldn’t ask what the young man’s rank was; to do so would alienate the boy. Blaise pondered for a few more moments before finally deciding on a question that could tell him a lot about Harry’s skills without being disrespectful or invasive. “Who crafted your daggers?”

Now the interesting thing about Veritaserum is that it makes the drinker speak the truth as they see it. If Blaise had asked for the assassin name of the crafter, he would have gotten the answer he sought. Instead, he was left frustrated with himself when Harry answered, “My father.” Blaise administrated the antidote with a slight scowl on his face. He knew James Potter was dead, so clearly the man Harry considered to be his father had crafted Harry’s daggers. He’d been given one question and he had wasted it.

Harry spoke, “I had almost forgotten the feeling of being under Veritaserum.” Blaise nodded his agreement. Severus had discovered an antidote that could be taken prior to Veritaserum that would simulate the effect of glazed eyes and a monotone voice, but allowed the drinker to lie. Every assassin had access to this substance.

The students bottled the remainder of their potion and turned it in before heading off to their next class of the day. Double Charms was an interesting class for Harry. The tiny professor was actually introducing some charms that he had not yet learned, which was a nice change from some of his other classes. He flicked and swished with the rest of the class, practicing without one of his daggers, simply getting a feel for the wrist movement necessary.

28 --

Lunch came quickly and Harry Potter watched Neville Longbottom purposefully walk into Severus Snape outside the Great Hall with a smirk on his pale face. “Having problems keeping your eyes in front of you, Longbottom?” Snape sneered at the Gryffindor.

“I could ask you the same thing, snarky bastard,” Neville muttered. Those students close enough to hear his remark gasped in shock.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Severus snarled, his mind briefly flitting back to Harry’s comment that morning.

“I said,” Neville stated slowly, as if talking to a small child, “why don’t you watch where you are going?”

Snape fought to keep an amused expression off his face. “You insolent little brat. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and detention all day Sunday.” Severus turned to Harry and snapped, “Potter, you will oversee his detention, I have no desire to spend time with this dunderhead.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied instantly, “you can count on me, sir.”

The crowd of students quickly parted as Professor Snape turned and stalked into the Great Hall for lunch. He was followed in by a mass of chattering teenagers, who separated and joined their houses, sharing the event with everyone. News of what Neville Longbottom had said spread quickly down the tables and more than one person stared at the Gryffindor like he was a hero.

As lunch was coming to an end Professor McGonagall stopped behind Neville and spoke, “Mr. Longbottom, regardless of personal opinion I expect the members of my house to act with dignity and decorum at all times. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall. I apologize for my inappropriate conduct,” Neville lied.

“Very well young man, but I don’t want to see this behavior again,” she stated primly before leaving the room.

Draco Malfoy gazed at Neville Longbottom curiously. “I didn’t realize how Slytherin, Longbottom could be,” he stated quietly.

Harry heard the blond’s statement and smirked. “I bet there are a great many things about Neville that you do not know,” he replied before leaving the room and following Pansy to their Arithmancy class.

--

Professor Vector walked around the room, checking her students’ calculations as they worked. She was surprisingly pleased at how well most of them were doing. She noticed that Blaise Zabini was once again assisting Harry Potter and smiled at the thoughtful young man. The class finally ended and the students were told to finish any equations they hadn’t yet completed as their homework.

Harry left the group of Slytherins and headed down into the dungeons. He walked by the entrance to the common room and continued down the hall, turning to enter the Slytherin Dueling Chambers. Neville arrived five minutes later to the sight of Harry Potter dueling six animated mannequins. He stared in awe at the fluid grace the young man exhibited as he disabled the opponents skillfully one at a time. The sight of the daggers 29 held in the small fists made his eyes glitter. He applauded when the last attacker had been destroyed.

Harry turned at the sound and beckoned Neville over to him. “Come, we have much to plan and discuss, Neville.”

Neville instantly complied with the order and settled down on the floor next to Harry. He removed the letter once again and pulled the blueprints and security information from the envelope, spreading it out on the floor. He conjured small paperweights to hold the scrolls in place. Two pairs of eyes began to pore over the provided information.

The Platinum lifted a photograph and passed it to Harry. “The mark is a Muggle Mafia Boss by the name of Nathaniel. His real name is unknown. He is five foot eight and has brown hair and brown eyes.” They both memorized the picture.

“The mark resides in a two-story manor on the outskirts of Muggle London,” Neville began. “The manor is on ten acres of land, that is enclosed with a privacy fence. The fence is wired with electricity and will electrocute anything that comes in contact with it.” Harry nodded. “This Sunday the mark will be at his manor all day, he is most often found inside his study, which is located on the second floor in the East Wing.”

Neville paused to take a breath, “Options for points of access?”

Harry scanned the blueprints carefully. “Getting inside the fence will be easy, we can levitate each other over it. Once inside the fence we have two options, we can levitate ourselves up to the study window and enter there, or we can enter through the front door and travel through the hallways,” Harry stated as he pointed out the locations on the blueprints.

“Traveling through the hallways would increase the chance that we will be discovered, it would be wiser to enter through his study window, which will likely be open on an autumn afternoon,” Neville replied.

“Agreed, we will enter that way and leave in the same manner,” Harry stated.

“In the event that we are discovered?” Neville queried.

Harry snorted at the question. “I’m never discovered, however, in the highly unlikely event that we are, we will complete the mission and leave as soon as possible, binding the guards if necessary.”

Neville nodded his understanding and reached for the security plans. “The grounds and manor are covered with security cameras at almost every point.”

“That can easily be taken care of with a Disillusionment Spell, which we will be using anyway,” Harry replied.

“The grounds are also equipped with infrared sensors throughout the property,” Neville read.

Harry considered this for a few moments. “So we will need a spell that masks our body-heat. Interesting devices these Muggles make, I’ve never come across such a situation before.”

Neville glanced at the Assassin Heir; the young man was probably used to killing highly skilled wizards and witches not Muggles. Maybe this was the reason why their Lord had assigned him to work with his son on this mission. “I know of a spell that will make our body-heat undetectable by their sensors,” he stated. “I had to use it on a previous mission.”

30 Harry accepted the words readily and gestured for Neville to continue. “The mark has several guard dogs roaming the grounds.”

Harry snickered, “Classic Muggle idiot. Scent-Removing Spells and spells that will block any sound we make will take care of that.”

Neville nodded. “When on Sunday do you wish to strike?”

Harry’s eyes hardened. “During the daylight. Everyone expects danger to be found in the darkness of the night; I like to show them that they don’t even have a chance in the light.”

Neville’s cold gaze met his. They were in agreement. He got to his feet and held out his hand to Harry, pulling the smaller boy up beside him.

“Moonless Night?” Harry asked, the question clear in his voice.

The Platinum smiled evilly at his name. “Moonless Night: They Never See Me Coming.” The two assassins headed back to their peers, leaving haunting laughter echoing behind them.

--

Rule Five: Assassins must be willing to learn new skills in order to better themselves.

Severus Snape was settled on his couch Saturday morning lost in thought. Morning practice was over and Harry Potter would be joining him for breakfast soon. The Obsidian Daggered Assassin leaned back in contemplation as he remembered the first time he had met the boy, before he had known the boy was Harry Potter.

Severus Snape bowed before the man that ruled the assassins. “You sent for me, my Lord.”

“Indeed, I did. Rise, Severus,” the voice commanded.

Black eyes lifted from the floor and took in the sight of the shadowed cloaked figure. As far as Snape knew, no one had ever seen the Assassin Lord’s true face. It was not their place to know such vital information.

“I have need of your services, Severus,” the man stated.

“Of course, my Lord. Anything that you require,” Snape replied instantly.

“My Heir has achieved great things, and I require a veteran assassin for him to learn partnership skills with. For the duration of the summer months you and my Heir will work together on all of your assigned missions,” the voice informed him.

Severus slowly blinked as he absorbed the information. “Of course, my Lord. As you will it. I would be honored.”

The cloaked figure beckoned to the shadows and a smaller form stepped forth. The boy was roughly thirteen years of age and had ebony hair and shimmering verdant eyes. Snape assessed the boy’s body, taking in the way he moved. His wandering eyes finally caught sight of the boy’s daggers and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of them. The boy was a Submissive Warrior.

31 Snape inclined his head to the young man and spoke, “It is an honor to meet you, young master.” He willingly showed the young man his daggers so the boy would know of his skills. “I am Darkest Nightmare: That Which Everyone Fears.”

A brief smirk flitted across the young face. “You will be a worthy mentor. I am…”

Snape was snapped out of his memories by the knock on his door. He calmly stood up and headed across the room, opening the portrait and allowing Harry Potter entrance. He led the young man over to a large armchair and bade him to sit. When they had settled comfortably the Potions Master spoke, “All those years ago, when we first met, how did you disguise the scar? I’ve never found a spell that would glamour a cursed scar. The curse would suck the magic from the spell and reveal it anyway.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly. “Indeed, no glamour spell exists that can cover my cursed scar.”

Snape smirked at the answer that was not an answer. “How did you cover it?”

“The Muggles have this great invention called make-up. I applied a flesh colored liquid over it, that hardens and conceals the scar,” Harry replied.

“Interesting.” He summoned one of the house-elves with their breakfast and politely waited for Harry to begin his meal before starting his own. “Have any of the students been giving you problems?” Snape inquired between bites of toast.

“Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor is being annoying, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle,” the teenager answered after finishing his eggs.

“Ah yes,” Snape drawled, “the Weasel. Would you be interested in hearing the story behind his behavior towards you?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Harry answered.

“The Weasleys are a pure-blood family that practically lives in the Headmaster’s pocket. They follow his orders implicitly,” Snape began. “It is my belief that the youngest Weasley boy was ordered to make friends with the great Harry Potter. He threw a huge tantrum when you didn’t arrive with the rest of the first-years.”

“Pity I missed it,” Harry drawled.

“Indeed. He had been sure that you two would be the best of friends and in Gryffindor together. I imagine it came as something of a shock when the Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin with all the people he considers ‘slimy snakes’ and ‘Death-Eaters-in-training.’ He’s probably terrified we will corrupt you and lead you astray.”

Harry snickered at the description. “I’m quite able to lead myself astray, Severus.”

“I’m aware of that, Harry.” The man smirked. “In his first year here, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was possessed by Lord Voldemort. He was here trying to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone so that he could gain immortal life. The Weasel heard about this and his bumbling friends, Thomas and Finnegan, and him worked through a series of traps trying to protect the stone.” Snape rolled his eyes. “They managed to get their hands on it, but Voldemort realized this and attacked them. Dumbledore managed to arrive in time to save them. They were all given House Points for courage, even though the stone would have been safe if they had left it alone.”

Harry sneered. “Let me guess, he was touted as the hero who helped save the school from Voldemort and 32 believes that as I have also battled the wizard it is my place to be at his side in Gryffindor. How naïve.”

“It gets better,” Snape told him.

“Oh, do share,” the curious boy replied.

“Lucius Malfoy had been given a diary by Lord Voldemort before his downfall and ordered Lucius to make sure it got to Hogwarts at some point to bring him back.” The Obsidian grinned evilly and hissed, “Your father was so displeased with the Weasley family almost bringing about the return of Voldemort, that he ordered Lucius to give the diary to the Weasel’s sister.”

“That school year was quite entertaining. All of a sudden, animals, ghosts, and children were being found in the school petrified. It was quite a mystery,” Snape stated. “Messages in blood were written on the walls and we determined that the Chamber of Secrets had once again been opened and that someone was releasing the legendary monster into the school. The Chamber had last been opened almost fifty years before that by a half- blood boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Lord Voldemort,” Harry added instantly.

“Yes, Lord Voldemort,” Snape agreed. “The diary had been possessing the girl and gave her the ability to speak in Parseltongue, which allowed her to command the Basilisk that Slytherin had hidden in there. One evening the girl disappeared and the message said she would remain there forever,” he sneered. “We weren’t that lucky. Your father seemed to realize something about the diary and commanded us to destroy it.”

Snape grit his teeth in remembrance of what had happened. “Neville Longbottom and I followed Ron Weasley and the Defense teacher, into a girl’s bathroom and saw a large pipe that led downwards. The idiots slid down it without a thought. We arrived at the bottom of the pipe in time to see the professor cast an ‘Obliviate’ at Weasley and fail. The spell backfired and collapsed the ceiling of the passageway, harming Weasley.”

Severus drawled, “Being the kindly responsible professor that I am, I had no choice but to escort the two bumbling idiots to the infirmary and allow Neville to continue on alone.” Harry smirked at the man’s description of himself. “Later that evening I visited Neville in the infirmary and was informed that he had slain the Basilisk using Gryffindor’s Sword and then stabbed the diary with one of its fangs.”

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at that declaration. “I knew that Neville Longbottom was talented, but to slay a Basilisk at the age of twelve – he’s amazing.”

“I agree,” Snape replied. “Now if only my idiot of a godson would realize that and send an offer of courtship.”

“Your godson?” Harry queried.

“Draco Malfoy,” Snape drawled.

“Ah,” Harry replied, “I think he is slowly coming around on that topic.” Severus raised an eyebrow at the cryptic statement, but allowed it to pass as the two men finished their meals. After setting down their cutlery, they leaned back and waited quietly for the house-elf to remove the dishes. “The night of the Sorting Ceremony, you looked angry when you heard my name.”

The Potions Master sighed. “I was. I was prepared to hate you. Ridicule you. Mock you. I was livid when I heard that Harry Potter was going to be attending this year. I never wanted to see you, and yet, I wanted to see you. I couldn’t make up my mind, let alone my emotions.” 33 The honest answer made Harry blink in shock. “Why did you hate the idea of me that much?”

Severus closed his eyes. “Because of Lily.”

“My mother?” Harry queried.

“Yes. I’m sure you have been told that assassins only ever bond with other assassins.” At Harry’s nod he continued. “Lily’s father was an assassin. He was one of the highest ranked Platinums in years. He had great skills, talent, and potential. If he had kept training and working, he would have easily made Obsidian.

However, the man fell in love with a Muggle-born witch. A witch that was not an assassin. She did not carry any of the hereditary skills and talents that we pass on to our children by marrying other assassins. He was a member of one of the oldest and most respected assassin lines. He was Lord Evans, and he had known since birth that he would wed another assassin. He could chose between male and female, he would definitely marry for love, and he did, but not an assassin,” Severus explained.

“Their first-born child was a daughter; they named her Petunia. She was born without the birthmark. She was born without any skills or talents that had been in the bloodline for generations. She hadn’t even received any magic. For the first time in history, the Evans Bloodline produced a Squib.” He shivered at the thought. “The Assassin Lord at the time was sure that the special talents had been lost, and we mourned. Then a miracle happened, their second child was born with amazing magical strength, and the birthmark.

Lily was quick, fierce, and talented. She trained with determination and never let anyone tell her that she couldn’t do something. She was the youngest assassin to ever master the art of crafting daggers.” Harry watched as a thoughtful haze clouded the man’s eyes. “Lily Evans was my best friend. She was my only friend. I confided in her, and she did the same. We spent a great deal of time together.”

“You loved her,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, I did. I was waiting for her to come of age so that I could offer her a courtship. I wanted to dedicate the rest of my life to her.” The wistful look left the black eyes and they hardened. “I never got the chance. She fell in love with James Potter,” Snape spit the name. “Gryffindor Golden Boy and Quidditch Team Captain. He wasn’t an assassin, he didn’t have the birthmark, and still she chose him. Once again, an Evans had chosen a person of non-assassin heritage and defied our traditions. For a second time, we mourned. There was no chance that the bloodline gifts would pass down to a second generation half-breed.”

Harry ignored the statement, knowing he wasn’t seen that way anymore. “And yet here you are,” Severus stated, “the last Heir of the Evans Bloodline that has any hope of continuing it.”

Harry Potter felt the pain of the man seated across from him. Their people had mourned a great family twice, and had twice been given a second chance. Severus was seated across from the young man who could have and should have been his own son. Fate had cheated him, and he was alone still, with no guarantee that his solitude would ever end. Maybe it was the pain in Severus Snape’s voice when he mentioned the loss of a great bloodline which made Harry Potter say what he did next.

“I, Harry James Evans Potter, do swear on my magic, that I will bond with another assassin.” His vow was sealed in a flash of light. His burning emerald eyes locked with watery black ones as he whispered, “So long as I have breath in my body, I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Evans Line lives on.” Harry Potter rose from his seat and headed for the door, planning to leave the wizard alone to think and grieve. His quietly

34 whispered words as he stepped out the door were what finally released the dam inside Severus Snape, “Obsidian Darkest Nightmare, you would have been a worthy father.”

--

Rule Six: Assassins always familiarize themselves with their environments.

Harry woke instantly Sunday morning and climbed out of his bed to prepare for the day. He had a full schedule planned, and nothing was going to break his concentration. He pulled on his training clothes and waited for the rest of the students before heading to the Slytherin Dueling Chambers; upon arrival, he leaned against one of the walls waiting for Neville to appear. The chamber slowly filled up with the assassins from the other houses. The flash of dirty blond caught his eye and Neville joined him moments later.

It was no surprise to the other Platinums when Harry and Neville once again jogged side by side that morning, conversing quietly between themselves. Oddly enough, the topic of conversation wasn’t what they thought it was. The two boys were discussing their adventures the previous afternoon.

Harry walked calmly through the dungeons; his mind was still going over the information that Severus Snape had given him. He was now in a place to better understand the Gryffindor Weasel, even if he didn’t want to. The brat thought that he was a hero, Harry snorted at the idea, the redhead was magically inferior, and he had no intelligence to speak of. Such things would not endear him to the assassin.

Harry’s steps led him out of the dungeons and up into the Entrance Hall, where Neville Longbottom was leaning against a wall, the Gryffindor hurried over to him when he was seen. “I thought you might like a tour of the castle,” Neville said.

“Indeed, an assassin always needs to know their environment,” Harry replied.

Neville smiled at the black-haired man and stated, “Come on then, I will tell you what I can.” He began walking and nodded when he heard Harry’s footsteps behind him. Neville stopped at the main doors of the school and pointed to various objects. “That is known as the Forbidden Forest, which it is by the way.” Harry’s lips twitched. “Blaise informs me that you already know about the lake.” Neville raised an eyebrow.

“It has a calming presence,” Harry responded.

Neville nodded and gestured in another direction. “That hut is the home of Hagrid, the Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and around the far side of the school is the Quidditch Pitch.” His hand changed directions once again. “The Greenhouses can all be found over there.”

“Is that everything of note outside?”

“Yes, I will show you the ground floor of the castle today as well.” Thus saying the Gryffindor led the Slytherin down the hallways, pointing out bathrooms, unused classrooms, and a hallway lined with various portraits. It was as they were walking down this hallway that Harry was shown the entrance to the kitchen. Neville Longbottom reached up and tickled the pear in the painting three times, until it giggled and the portrait swung open.

Harry’s eyes quickly assessed the room full of excitable house-elves. “What can we be doing for the young masters?” one of them asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I would dearly love a mug of hot cocoa.” 35 Neville led Harry over to a small wooden table and they seated themselves on scarred benches. The elves came over a few moments later with a beverage for each young man. “Thank you,” they told the elves, who promptly burst into grateful tears.

Longbottom gazed across the table and asked, “Same thing next weekend?”

“Indeed, next weekend you can show me another floor of the castle.”

Training ended as it did every day and the mass of students headed off to get cleaned up before breakfast. Breakfast that day was a boisterous affair; the students could practically smell an unknown excitement in the air. Harry and Neville ate their food calmly while discussing various things with their friends. The meal wound down and as Harry got to his feet Bella leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“May your daggers stay sharp, my Harry,” she intoned. “You better come back to me,” she added so quietly that only Harry heard.

Very briefly, the hardness in Harry’s eyes left as he stared at the girl kindly. “I will,” he promised, before heading down to the dungeons with Neville, his mind now totally focused on his mission.

Not one person in the Great Hall noticed the hate filled eyes that bore into little Bella Zabini.

--

Neville and Harry walked down into the dungeons side by side. There were no other students in the hall to question where they were going, though surely by now the whole school had been made aware of Longbottom’s detention for talking back to Professor Snape. The young men entered the potions classroom and casually flicked their daggers, locking, silencing and warding the room in such a way that only they would be able to enter or leave.

Harry’s mind flickered back to something Severus had told him the evening before.

“In the Northeastern corner of the room, there is a small raised stone on the floor that is inlaid with a snake pattern. Lift the stone and turn it to the right three times, and you will be able to leave the school grounds unnoticed.”

As instructed, he headed to the appointed corner and crouched down on the floor. His eyes quickly spotted the stone and his fingers grasped the edges as he lifted it and twisted it to the right. When he had completed the task he pressed down on the stone and it sank into the floor with a soft rumble. Harry raised his eyes to see the wall folding in on itself and providing a staircase that led down and outwards. After checking for traps of any kind Neville and Harry descended the staircase and followed where it led, keeping their senses doubly alert.

The tunnel came to an end with a ladder that led up to a trapdoor. Neville headed up first, checking for tripwires, and disabling the one he found, before raising the trapdoor and peering out to see if the area was deserted. Neville stepped into the sunlight and Harry quickly followed him. They gazed around, sealing the spot in their minds before lowering the trapdoor and turning to one another.

“The Forbidden Forest?” Neville muttered. “Only Salazar Slytherin would think of creating an escape tunnel that led here.”

“The location is actually perfect,” Harry stated. “The creatures in here are liable to scare off anyone who even 36 thinks of wandering into the forest. It’s likely that people searching for it will never find the passageway. Severus stated that not even the Headmaster knows of it and this tunnel ends outside of the Anti-Disapparition Wards. If someone is lucky enough to make it here and avoid any creatures they can Apparate to freedom quite easily.”

“You are correct of course,” Neville replied. “Are you ready to do this, young master?”

“Yes, Moonless Night. Do you remember the Apparition Coordinates?” Harry demanded to know.

“Yes,” the Gryffindor replied.

“Then let us prepare ourselves,” Harry stated. The two young men gazed at each other with slightly gleeful eyes that sat in their otherwise emotionless faces. Their daggers flicked and swished as they disillusioned and de- scented, casting sound blocking and body-heat impairment spells on themselves. Now no one would be able to see, smell, hear, or sense them, except for each other. Their own magic easily sensed their partner’s location. “Time to go.”

The two assassins Disapparated and found themselves outside of the tall fence that ran the length of the property. It would have been simpler to Apparate inside the fence, but they then ran the chance of Apparating into someone, which they had no desire to do. This was also why they couldn’t Apparate directly into the manor. Their eyes shifted left and right, taking in the landscape and determining that it was identical to the blueprints that they had been provided with.

With care, the two assassins levitated each other over the fence and regained their balance. They extended their senses and waited five minutes without moving; when they were assured that nothing had sensed them, they carefully picked their way across the rolling lawns, sticking to the shadows. The two young men worked their way around the manor until they found themselves below the window that led into the mark’s study. Neville held his dagger steady as he levitated Harry up the side of the building; his hand froze as he waited for Harry to cast the Sticking Charm on his left palm. Once Harry was in place, he levitated Neville up with great care and stuck his hand to the side of the manor as well.

Their figures crouched against the building on either side of the open window as they listened to the sounds coming from the room. It was close to an hour later when Nathaniel commanded his minions to leave him so that he could make an important phone call. The thugs left, and Harry and Neville slipped silently into the room, assured that they were alone with the man. Nathaniel didn’t have a chance to touch the phone; he was bound with magical ropes to his chair and silenced. Neville stretched forth his Platinum Dagger and slit the man’s throat, blood poured from the wound in a parody of a grin.

Harry stepped forward and raised one of his daggers, calmly cutting a square shaped hole in the back of the man’s suit jacket and shirt. When the flesh of the mark’s right shoulder was revealed to him, Harry leaned forward and carved his trademark signature into the man’s flesh. His dagger moved slowly as the work of art was created. He observed it with critical eyes before deciding it was acceptable and turned towards the window with a macabre grin on his face. The Muggle Authorities were going to be busy the next few days wondering how he had managed to strike yet again without leaving any evidence.

Harry and Neville swung out of the window, placing Sticking Charms on their feet as well as they scaled down the manor wall. Once they had hit the ground, the two held their position for one minute, attempting to detect anything new that could pose a danger to them. Upon deciding the coast was clear, they slunk through the shadows, freezing when they heard the front doors of the manor open. The two young men turned their heads and froze.

37 “Bloody Buggering Fuck!” Harry swore. Disregarding any attempts to leave the grounds slowly, Harry and Neville burst into a sprint, fleeing from the ominous howling creatures that could see their magical auras, which they were unable to mask. Their flight across the lawn was hurried, and it was with a great deal less care that Harry and Neville practically threw each other over the fence surrounding the property.

The moment their feet hit the ground the two assassins Disapparated, leaving the scene of the crime. They reappeared above the trapdoor and lifted it, sliding down the ladder. After repairing the tripwire, they quickly walked back through the tunnel, and exited into the silent Potions classroom. Harry closed the entrance and then tore the wards and Privacy Charms down with a snarl; he ripped open the door and took only a few steps down the hall before he found what he was looking for. Severus Snape.

Snape took one look at Harry and stated, “Longbottom, your detention is over.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

Snape then turned and followed a raging Submissive through the hallways, arriving at the Slytherin Dueling Chambers. Harry was so livid that he didn’t seem to realize several students had followed them in as well, including the Zabini siblings. With a casual flick of his hand, he revealed unto them his daggers as he transfigured his clothes into something more comfortable, waiting impatiently for Severus to do the same.

Harry ignored the sharp indrawn breaths that came from the direction of the door and dove forward, slamming his foot into Severus’ knee before twirling off to the side. He smirked at the flinch the man gave. The shorter man ducked the punch aimed at his stomach and fell backwards in a roll quickly regaining his feet. He threw one of his daggers and grinned at the impact, unable to avoid an Obsidian Dagger thrown by Severus in response. He yanked it from his flesh and watched as Severus repeated the action before they both summoned their own daggers back into their possession.

What followed was the most vicious fight any of the students had ever seen in their lives. They felt honored to be watching a duel between assassins of such high rank; the two men twirled and danced a dance that between anyone else would be lethal. The men smirked as they sliced each other, hit each other, and relished in the pain that was inflicted upon them. This was the proof that they were alive. As long as they could feel, they were alive. The pain was inconsequential; it was the motivation behind the confrontation that mattered, an affirmation of life.

Their fight lasted for hours, until, at some unknown signal to those watching, the two men ceased movement and bowed to each other. “Thank you, Darkest Nightmare,” Harry stated gratefully.

Severus cocked an eyebrow as he breathed deeply and spoke, “I haven’t seen you that worked up in over a year. Did something go wrong?”

“You could say that,” Harry snapped, still angry over what had happened.

“Oh?” Severus drawled inquiringly.

“Do you remember New York?” Harry’s question an explanation in itself.

Severus’ black eyes hardened in rage. “You mean the mission where a Steel did our reconnaissance and classified a full daylight werewolf pack as ‘the mark owns some dogs’ in his report?”

Harry nodded angrily in agreement. “I’m almost of the mind to strip the fool of his daggers.” His growled statement was met with a shocked gasp from the few younger students that were present. Harry turned his gaze 38 upon those watching and snarled silently in irritation that he had revealed his daggers before he had wanted to. This was not something that could be undone.

“You both escaped unharmed?” Severus queried.

“If we hadn’t, I would have killed the bastard who did the reconnaissance,” Harry snapped.

Harry’s emerald eyes locked with Blaise’s deep brown ones and Harry could see the unspoken request they held. It was a question, which deserved an answer now that his daggers had been seen. Blaise stepped forward and gracefully bowed before the Submissive Warrior that stood before him. “I am Crimson Frost: Bloody And Cold.”

Harry recognized the name and the reputation that was attached to it. Blaise Zabini was becoming quite an interesting companion. Harry swept into a bow and replied, “I am Onyx Snow: Destroyer of Innocence.” Startled gasps echoed through the chamber at his revelation. He was a legend, and now they knew it.

Bella Zabini stepped forward and took Harry’s hand, leading him from the room and back to their dormitories. Their path was marked by the crimson drops of blood, which were dripping off the tips of Harry’s Ivory Daggers.

--

Rule Seven: Assassins should be adept at gathering intelligence.

From the moment that Blaise Zabini had seen Harry Potter’s daggers, he had filed away every possible observation he could make about the assassin. He had been observing the raven-haired young man for over a month now, and he had learned a great many things.

Harry and Blaise were seated next to each other in Ancient Runes, discussing their assigned project. “I think that we should make an iced flame spell,” Harry stated.

Blaise glanced at his companion curiously. “An iced flame spell?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. “According to some Muggle Science Laws I studied when I was younger, if something is rapidly heated and then cooled, it will shatter.”

The idea had merit. “So you want to invent a spell that will make something hot enough it may melt, and then the flame will turn cold and freeze the object, destroying it irrevocably?”

“Exactly,” Harry stated. “To accomplish that goal we will need the flame to be blue. It will be hot enough to burn and already the right color when it switches to a water element.”

“Interesting idea, Harry,” Blaise drawled. “Very well, we shall do that.”

The two young men pulled their Ancient Runes books closer and began looking through them in search of Runes that would create their spell.

--

39 Harry seemed to be extremely intelligent as well. He was the top student in several of his classes, and near the top in the rest of them. However, he also had academic secrets.

Blaise walked into the seventh-year dorm in search of Harry; Neville was at the common room entrance asking for him. “Harry…”

Harry’s head shot up at the sound of the door opening and quickly closed the book he was reading. He placed it next to the pile of rolled parchment that was on his bed, and rose to his feet. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Blaise gazed at him curiously. “Ancient Runes, you’re not working on our project by yourself are you?”

“No, I’m not working on our project by myself,” Harry answered.

Blaise blinked and stated, “Right. Neville is here to see you.”

Harry cast a quick Tempus Charm and hurried from the room. His words echoing up the stairs, “I apologize for being late, Neville. I got distracted by something.”

That was not the last time Blaise caught Harry with that book and pile of scrolls that were hidden the moment anyone appeared.

--

Harry seemed to get along very well with children. He would be a good parent.

Bella Zabini walked over to Harry Potter in the Slytherin common room and settled herself in his lap. “I’m bored, Harry.”

A black eyebrow shot upwards. “And this is my problem?” Harry asked.

“Of course it is. Entertain me,” Bella demanded.

“Entertain you?” Harry smirked.

“Please, I know you will do a marvelous job. Think of it as a mission if you must,” she stated.

Harry’s lips twitched. “How will you pay for my services for this mission, Bella?”

Bella grinned evilly. “In return for your services, I will obtain for you a mug of hot cocoa, made exactly as you like it.”

“Tempting. Very tempting,” Harry stated solemnly. “Very well, what shall I do to entertain you?”

“Tell me a story!” Bella demanded.

“A story?” Harry’s face showed none of the shock he felt.

“Yes, a story about one of your missions.” Her dark brown eyes gazed up at him imploringly.

“As you wish, little Silver.” Harry began, “Beautiful Death and I were in Venice, tracking down a vampire that had been killing magical children…” 40 Harry got along with children quite well. However, he only ever seemed to soften around Blaise’s younger sister.

--

Harry seemed to know the Assassin Lord quite well, though the relationship between the two men had not been uncovered as of yet.

The infamous black eagle owl swept into the hall and landed before Harry at the Slytherin table. He began eating the sausage links on Harry’s plate as he waited for the letter to be removed.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “A green envelope? I’ve never received a green envelope before.”

A mysterious smirk appeared on Harry’s face. “You never will.”

“Oh? May I ask why?” Draco questioned.

“Indeed, you may but you will not receive an answer,” Harry stated. His hands attached a letter that he removed from his robes to the owl.

The eagle owl nipped at his fingers lovingly, and allowed the black-haired assassin to stroke his smooth feathers. “Make sure he gets this, Horus.” The owl hooted once before taking off and leaving the Great Hall.

--

One of the most intriguing bits of information in Blaise’s opinion was that Salazar Slytherin seemed interested in Harry as well.

Blaise was returning from a meeting with his Head of House when a quiet murmuring caught his attention. He carefully leaned forward around the corner. His breath hitched slightly at the sight before him. Harry Potter was talking with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, a portrait that refused to speak with anyone. What made the other assassin worthy enough to speak with the Founder?

Blaise slipped around the corner trying to get close enough to hear what was being said. Harry’s head snapped up and the sound stopped. Harry inclined his head to the portrait before turning and entering the Slytherin common room, leaving behind a confused Obsidian.

--

Blaise had also discovered that the other assassin was a brilliant strategist. Easily on par with his own skills.

Blaise approached the silent young man who was gazing at the fire in the Slytherin common room. “Can I interest you in a game of chess?” Blaise queried.

Harry glanced up and locked gazes with Blaise. “Indeed. I would very much enjoy a game of chess at the moment,” Harry replied.

Blaise smirked and retrieved his chess pieces from their dorm room before joining Harry in front of the fire. The two assassins set up their pieces on the table and began their game. “Are you enjoying your stay at Hogwarts?” Blaise asked. 41 “I don’t know that I would use the word enjoy. It’s certainly a different environment than what I learned in previously,” Harry stated as he ordered a pawn forward. “The school has some useful amenities and at the same time can be quite annoying. It will do for the year I’m to remain here.”

As the game played out Blaise felt the curious and calculating glances Harry sent his way. What was the Ivory so curious about? Blaise could only hope that he was being observed as closely as he was observing Harry, in the hopes that they would come to know more about each other before the Courtship Gala. It would certainly give him an edge over the other suitors.

That wasn’t the only night they had played chess. Every game had ended in a draw.

--

Harry had also proven himself to be fiercely loyal and protective in regards to the people that mattered to him.

Blaise came awake at the sound of his dormitory door opening. A silently cast Tempus told him that it was 3:12 a.m. and the small shadowed figure headed straight over to Harry’s bed, revealing to him that the identity of the intruder was his younger sister. He felt the magic in the air shift as Bella was granted access to Harry’s bed. The young Slytherin climbed into his bed and clutched him tightly.

“What is the matter, my little Silver?” Harry whispered in the darkness.

“The eyes won’t stop following me,” Bella choked out.

“What eyes, little one?” Harry queried.

“The eyes in the school. They follow me. Whenever I’m in the Great Hall I can feel them burning into me, and sometimes they are there in the halls as well.”

Harry rubbed the little girl’s back, soothing away her tears. “I will protect you from the eyes.” He didn’t need to say anything else; the young Zabini fell asleep in his arms.

--

“…se. BLAISE!” Draco shouted.

Blaise snapped out of his ruminations and glanced at the Malfoy Heir. “Yes, Draco?”

“It’s time for class, we have to go,” the blond stated, turning and leaving the common room. Blaise followed his friend as they headed for the Transfiguration classroom. “What has your mind so occupied these days that you cannot hear me?”

“Nothing,” Blaise snapped.

“This nothing wouldn’t happen to be named Harry Potter would it?” the blond quipped.

Blaise glared over at his long-time friend. “And I suppose that your nothing wouldn’t happen to be named Neville Longbottom would it?” He smirked at the slight flush that appeared on the blond’s cheeks.

“Neville Longbottom is a perfectly acceptable Submissive,” Draco stated. 42 “Mhmm.”

“He is a Platinum, the same rank that I have achieved,” Draco added.

“Mhmm.”

“He comes from a good bloodline and is also quite nice to look at,” the blond whispered.

“Mhmm.”

“Bloody Hell, Blaise. Would you please answer me with a sentence, or barring that, a word!” the Malfoy Heir snarled.

Blaise gazed at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “I think that Neville Longbottom would be a perfectly matched Submissive for you,” he stated.

“Of course he is,” Draco replied, slightly mollified. “I have good taste after all.” A slight flicker of nerves appeared in his eyes. “Do you think he’s even interested in me?” Draco spun around at the sound of a quiet snort.

Harry Potter stepped forward and pulled even with them. His green eyes briefly locking with Draco’s gray ones. “I highly recommend offering your courtship soon.”

“Why?” Draco asked in shock.

An ebony eyebrow rose as Harry contemplated whether or not he should share his observations. “Macmillan is interested.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the information. He wanted to kill the bloody Hufflepuff for daring to express interest in HIS future mate. Longbottom was perfect for him; even Blaise and Harry seemed to think so. However, as much as Draco Malfoy was considered to be the Slytherin Ice Prince, he wasn’t. Even Malfoys can suffer from the greatest emotional quandary of them all. Insecurity.

Harry saw the slight flicker in the gray eyes and stepped in front of Draco, who instantly came to a stop. He assessed the assassin before him. Harry had come to like Neville a great deal; he enjoyed the weekend afternoons spent together. Neville had asked him to be his Unus Quisnam Custodiae. The One Who Guards. The person who viewed all courtship offers and either allowed a person to court their charge or not. He wouldn’t let his friend mate with someone who wasn’t worthy. Just as he would refuse all whom he knew Neville would reject.

Neville Longbottom came down the hallway and glanced curiously at the staring contest that was happening between the Slytherin students. “Harry?”

Without moving his eyes from the ones before him, Harry spoke, “Enter the classroom, Proprius Unus, we will be in momentarily.” He did not have to turn around to know that Neville had obeyed him. Draco’s eyes widened as the words left his mouth.

“You are…” The blond could barely get the two words out of his mouth.

“I am,” Harry agreed. 43 Draco sank to his knees gracefully in the deserted corridor and bowed his head before Harry. His words never left the Silencing Barrier that Blaise erected. “I, Draco Malfoy, petition for the right to court your Proprius Unus.”

Harry gazed down at the blond head. “What are you intentions towards my Proprius Unus?”

“I seek his hand in a lifelong bond of love, fidelity, and commitment,” Draco replied.

“What is your rank?”

“I have earned the right to wield Platinum Daggers,” Draco replied, lovingly handing one of his precious daggers to the man before him.

Harry inspected the dagger carefully with an expert eye. They were well taken care of, and the magic they possessed was compatible with Neville’s. Harry turned the dagger so that the tip of it pointed towards Draco’s heart and spoke, “Your daggers show you are worthy.” He handed the Platinum Dagger back to the blond, who accepted it with a sigh and slid in into its sheath.

“What is your name?”

Draco kept his eyes on the floor as he answered. “The Obsidian Daggered Darkest Nightmare, named me Scarlet Death: Bloody Until The End.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose slightly at that revelation. This was the first time he had heard the blond’s assassin name at Hogwarts, but the name was well known outside of the school. “Your name shows you are worthy.” He watched as the blond’s muscles relaxed slightly at his words.

“What is your lineage?”

Draco slowly turned in place, until his back faced Harry. He moved his robes and shirt out of the way, revealing his birthmark to the Ivory.

Harry gazed at the circle of runes intently. His paternal line was that of the Malfoys. It was his maternal line that shocked Harry; Draco Malfoy’s mother was a Black. Interesting. “Your lineage shows you are worthy,” Harry stated, watching as all of the residual tension left the blond’s muscles. Draco turned around to face Harry and raised his eyes until their gazes met. “Platinum Daggered Scarlet Death, I grant you the right to court my Proprius Unus.”

The Malfoy Heir gracefully got to his feet. “Thank you for the opportunity. I will not waste it,” he stated, as Blaise removed the Silencing Barrier and the three assassins finally entered their class.

Professor McGonagall glared at the three Slytherin students who interrupted her lecture by appearing late. “Ten points from Slytherin, each. Do try and be here on time boys.” The three assassins nodded and seated themselves at the table next to Neville. “As I was saying, today we will be transfiguring these quills into snakes. Make sure that you enunciate the phrase carefully and use the correct wand movements. Begin!”

Neville glanced over at Harry curiously. “I have granted Draco Malfoy the right to court you,” Harry quietly stated, absently making his quill a snake. He watched as his friend’s warm eyes sparkled happily for a moment.

“Thank you,” Neville whispered. 44 “You’re welcome, Neville,” Harry replied.

The attention of the classroom shot to McGonagall as she cried out, “Mr. Boot, don’t…” She didn’t have time to finish the statement before the Ravenclaw used an incorrect wand movement, transfiguring a highly poisonous cobra, instead of the small non-poisonous snakes several other class members had managed to create. The surrounding students leapt away from the angrily hissing cobra.

“Inept fools. How did you bring me here?”

“I ask that you not bite any of the ignorant fools,” Harry hissed, slipping through the group of panicked students.

“A speaker? I have never met a speaker before. What are you called?”

“I am called Harry. What are you called, beautiful one?”

The cobra preened slightly under the compliment. “I am called Scipio.”

“That is a fitting name. Would you allow me to retrieve you?”

“You won’t let any of these filthy fools near me will you?”

Harry snickered at the statement. “No, I will not let them have you or harm you.”

“Very well then, I will accompany you, speaker.” The large black cobra rose up and allowed Harry Potter to grasp his coils. Harry lifted the snake and draped it across his shoulders and down his chest. He assessed the reactions of his fellow students as he retook his seat, the class parting before him. Some of the students looked terrified, others remained indifferent, and a few fairly shone with lust. The rest of the class period passed in near silence as the students applied themselves to their work with the utmost attention, sneaking occasional glances at the Savior-Who-Spoke-Parseltongue.

--

On the way to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, Headmaster Dumbledore approached Harry and stated, “Mr. Potter, students are not allowed to have pet snakes at school.”

The assassin stared at him. “I’m aware of that Headmaster, he will be leaving shortly.” Before Dumbledore had a chance to question him further, Harry stepped around the interfering old man and headed over to his house table. He ignored the worshipful stares he was receiving from the younger Slytherins and calmly ate his meal, pausing only when Horus arrived with a green envelope for him.

Harry turned his eyes on Scipio and hissed, “This owl will take you to my home. He will not harm you, you have my word.”

“Very well. If he drops me, I will bite him.”

“He will not drop you.” Harry turned his head to Horus and said, “You will take him to my room at home. He has promised not to bite you as long as you do not drop him.” The owl hooted in indignation before swooping down and clasping the cobra tightly in his talons; with a final hoot to Harry, Horus flew out of the Great Hall with his burden. 45 --

As he drifted off to sleep that evening, Blaise Zabini couldn’t help but be pleased that one mystery about Harry Potter was solved. He knew now why Salazar Slytherin had deigned to talk with the young man. Now if only he could figure out why the Assassin Lord’s owl obeyed Harry Potter.

--

Rule Eight: Assassins should be able to sense good and evil intentions.

It was on the seventh Saturday afternoon in a row that Harry and Neville were exploring the castle, that they accidentally discovered the Room of Requirement. The two young assassins had found themselves across from an ugly tapestry, pacing quietly as they talked, when a door suddenly appeared in the wall. The two men grasped their daggers as they opened the door with care, eyes scanning the room for inhabitants. Intrigued, they stepped into the mysterious room and closed the door behind them.

The left half of the room was tiled, and possessed the largest sunken bathtub either man had ever seen in his life. The blue-bubbled foam was overflowing onto the floor, and there were shelves full of shampoos, soaps, and salts. “How peculiar,” Neville stated, “I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a relaxing bath.”

The right half of the room was furnished with a single small table and an armchair. On the little table was a copy of the book, Forgotten Ancient Runes: Powerful and Lost. Harry’s eyebrows quickly rose upwards; he had been attempting to get a copy of that book for the last four weeks and had been unable to find it. His brow furrowed in thought. If this room provided whatever was needed, then it would clearly be beneficial for him to perform his other research here.

“Harry, do you think this is real?” Neville asked.

“There is only one way to find out,” Harry replied. The two young men left the room and closed the door watching as it faded back into the wall. Harry stepped forward and began pacing once more, concentrating on what he wanted. After his third pass, a new door appeared in the wall and Neville tugged it open.

He blinked. “This is nice.” The two young men entered and settled down on the plush couch Harry had created. They reached for the mugs that were residing on the coffee table and allowed themselves to bask in the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. Neville sipped his cocoa and smiled. “Very nice. It tastes exactly like the cocoa we get in the kitchen.”

“Indeed, so it would seem,” Harry replied. “How has Draco been treating you?”

A blush crept up Neville’s face at the question. “Draco is treating me well. He held my hand yesterday.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at that statement. “If he tries to kiss you or touch you inappropriately, let me know and I will revoke his Rite of Courtship.”

Neville smiled at the serious expression on Harry’s face; he had chosen the perfect guardian. “Draco knows the rules. He may hold my hand and hug me, but anything other than that is to be initiated by myself when I feel ready. He is a worthy Dominant. I’m honored that he has chosen to court me as his life mate.”

“Yes, he is a worthy Dominant, and you are a worthy Submissive. I’m sure he feels honored he is being allowed

46 to court you,” Harry stated.

Neville nodded in silent agreement, before a shiver of dislike raced down his spine. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes. An evil that is in the room and yet not in the room. An evil that holds great hatred and seeks to harm others, yet cannot,” Harry stated.

“It feels familiar,” Neville whispered.

“How so?” Harry asked.

Neville considered the question carefully. “I feel as if I have fought this same evil before, but I cannot place the event or time. It is familiar, yet elusive.” The pair sat in silence for a few moments before rising to their feet; they left the room in quiet contemplation and headed down to dinner wondering what evil was there and yet not there.

--

Harry lifted his forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth, freezing when Bella grabbed his arm. He glanced down into her slightly fearful eyes and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The eyes. I can feel the eyes again,” she whispered.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling Bella against his side as his gaze slowly swept the hall. The problem was that there were a great many people staring at them. So many people that it was impossible for him to be able to tell whom exactly was staring at his little Silver. “I will keep you safe, Bella.”

“Yes, Harry,” she instantly agreed returning to her meal. Harry tightened his arm around her one last time before retrieving his fork and starting in on his food again.

Harry lifted his head at the sudden silence in the hall, and looked in the direction everyone else seemed to be looking. His face remained expressionless as he locked gazes with Viktor Krum. The Famous Bulgarian Seeker took a step towards the Slytherin table, and the tableau was broken. Chatter spread up and down the house tables like wildfire at the appearance of the Quidditch Star. The predominant questions being: Why is he here? Why is he going to the Slytherin table? Who is he looking for?

Viktor stalked around the table confidently and came to a stop behind Harry Potter. He bowed at the waist and stated, “Harry, a vord please.” The Obsidian Daggered Assassin felt the piercing stare of Blaise Zabini; he smirked at the younger man.

Harry saw the hate-filled glare that Blaise was directing over his shoulder. He allowed himself a small smirk and turned to the Bulgarian. “Of course, Viktor,” he replied, offering the other assassin his hand. Viktor gently pulled Harry to his feet, glaring superiorly at Blaise. Once Harry was standing, he released the Ivory’s hand and quietly led the young man from the room, ignoring the loud furor his actions created.

The two men headed down to the Slytherin Dueling Chambers, only the assassins would be able to find them, and they should have better taste than to bother them. “It has been a vhile, Harry. How are you?” Viktor asked.

“I have been as well as can be expected. How have you been, Viktor?” Harry queried.

“I haff been vell,” Viktor answered as he removed a wrapped object from his robes and handed it to Harry. 47 “This is from your father. He vanted you to haff it, but mail vas not safe. So I bring it for you.”

Harry accepted the small package opening it carefully. The layers gradually revealed to him a hand mirror, which was engraved with his father’s family crest. Harry ran his thumb across the crest and observed as the mirror turned smoky before revealing his father’s face to him. Harry bowed his head and spoke, “Father, it’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, my little Ivory,” The Assassin Lord responded. “Sit, I have much to tell you.” Harry glanced to the side and his father caught the gesture. “Is Endless Torment still there?”

“Yes father,” Harry answered.

“He may stay,” the Lord stated. “He will need this information later.”

“As you will it, father,” Harry replied. The two assassins settled comfortably on the floor and waited for the explanation.

“Lord Voldemort has been made aware of your return to Hogwarts, and my spies tell me that he seems interested in seeing if you will join him. If he approaches you, I want you to inform him that any absences from school would be much too suspicious and that you will have to wait for a school holiday to discuss your loyalties with him,” the silver-eyed man stated.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “So you want me to string him along. I can easily do that, father. I’m assuming you will be using the intervening time to accomplish something?”

“Yes,” his father answered. “You know that Lord Voldemort returned at the end of what would have been your fifth-year at Hogwarts, just a little over a year ago. What you do not know, is that he returned because of a Horcrux.”

“A Horcrux?” Harry queried.

“Yes. A Horcrux is an object that contains a small portion of a person’s soul. According to our calculations, Lord Voldemort made six Horcruxes in total, keeping the seventh piece of his soul in his original body, which deteriorated due to the Dark Magic needed to perform the ritual.” The Assassin Lord scowled. “Until all of these Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort will still exist, he will simply return using a new Horcrux.”

“Is it safe to assume that the portion of his soul that was in his actual body, was destroyed the night he attacked me?” Harry wondered aloud.

“No,” his father answered. “The base or original portion of his soul, the one anchored in his body, cannot be destroyed until the Horcruxes have been destroyed. It has been determined that the original portion of his soul combined with the Horcrux that allowed him to return. Mundungus Fletcher was a member of Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix, and he stole Slytherin’s Locket from their Headquarters. The Horcrux drained the life from him and combined with the original soul as well.”

“So right now, Voldemort has two-sevenths of his soul in his body?” Harry asked.

“Correct,” his father stated.

“Vot do ve know of the other Horcruxes?” Viktor questioned.

48 “It’s believed that the first Horcrux Voldemort made was a diary when he was still a student at Hogwarts,” his father explained. “That diary was destroyed several years ago by another assassin.”

“The Chamber of Secrets incident,” Harry stated.

“Indeed. Moonless Night served me well that day.” He continued, “Darkest Nightmare has informed me that the Headmaster found and destroyed a Horcrux, damaging himself in the process. He isn’t expected to live more than a year.” Father and son smirked at that revelation. “As for the other three Horcruxes, we believe that one is Nagini; Voldemort refuses to let her leave his side for long. Another is thought to be one of the many items he has given Inner Circle Death Eaters with orders to protect the item at all costs; we are currently weeding out the choices. The third is most likely hidden at Hogwarts somewhere,” he stated gazing at his son. “I expect you to keep an eye out for it. It will likely be an object that belonged to one of the Founders.”

“Yes father. I will let you know if I find anything,” Harry replied. “There is something else, isn’t there?” he asked as his father gazed at him with intense eyes.

“Vot is it?” Viktor queried.

Harry gazed at his father in the mirror in the mirror. “He can live through me,” Harry stated with conviction.

“Yes, he can. Well, your scar to be exact,” his father responded.

“Vot can ve do?” Viktor asked anxiously.

“It will be destroyed the night he bonds,” the Assassin Lord replied. “The joining of blood and magic will remove the taint of another’s presence. Now you see why you cannot anger him; play on his hatred of Dumbledore and claim the old fool is keeping watch over you.”

“As you wish, father,” Harry stated, smiling slightly as the mirror turned blank. Harry shrunk the object and placed it carefully in one of his pockets while rising to his feet. Harry led his fellow assassin up out of the dungeons and toward the school’s main doors, ignoring the small group of students that were present.

Terry Boot interrupted their quiet goodbye. “So, Potter is a poof,” the Ravenclaw drawled running his eyes up and down Harry’s form. “I bet that he looks even better naked.”

Harry smirked, “That is something you will never find out.”

Boot turned malicious eyes on Viktor. “So tell me, is being famous and rich the only way to get in bed with the Boy-Who-Lived?” His statement was met with hate-filled glares from the assassins present.

Harry tilted his head to the side and assessed the boy before him. “Even if you were rich and famous, you still wouldn’t be in my bed.”

Terry turned angry eyes on Harry. “What can he do that I can’t?” he snapped, pointing at Viktor.

Harry licked his lips. “A great many things, Mr. Boot.” He didn’t hear the quiet growl his words forced from Blaise Zabini’s throat.

“A delicious shag I take it?” the Ravenclaw snarled at Viktor.

The Bulgarian stepped forward and pulled Harry back against his chest, wrapping his arms around the beautiful 49 young man. “Yes, he is delicious. He is not for one such as you. You’re not good enough for him. You vill never be good enough for him. He’s special.”

Terry Boot spun around in angry embarrassment and stormed off. Viktor quickly removed his arms from around Harry and stepped backwards. The assassins held their breath as Harry turned in place and gazed at the man before him. Viktor bowed until his torso was parallel with the floor and stated, “My apologies, Harry.”

Harry gazed down at Viktor, sighed quietly, and turned to leave the Entrance Hall. Blaise strode forward, blocking his path, refusing to move until Harry looked him in the eyes. Emerald eyes rose to meet dark brown ones and froze at the endless questions they held. Why? Why had Harry allowed Viktor to touch him, hold him? Why had Harry not punished him for his actions? Why had Viktor come in the first place? How did they know each other? Where had they been? Blaise’s mind was full of painful questions that were eating away at him, as his heart swelled in jealous rage.

“He loves me,” Harry stated, answering several of Blaise’s silent questions and creating even more. Harry shifted his gaze until his line of sight fell on the Bulgarian. For a brief moment, he allowed all of his masks to fall and heartfelt sadness washed over his face. “He knows that was the only time I would ever be in his arms. I do not love him.”

Harry slipped around the now silent Slytherin, and descended into the dungeons. If he had the power to change anything, he would free Viktor from his feelings of love. Assassins knew how much emotion could be used to cause damage. They were trained from a very early age to protect their feelings, blank their faces, and control their actions. This prevented others from using their feelings against them. They felt so little, and what they did feel was hidden away and kept safe. Harry would rather endure a month of torture than suffer Viktor’s fate. The constant agony of unrequited love.

--

Rule Nine: An assassin must be able to defend their weakness.

Harry Potter’s green eyes followed the large eagle as it swooped down and dropped a scroll before his plate, flying away immediately. He pressed against the wax seal of a serpent, broke it, and opened the missive. Harry smirked to himself as he read the words written in blood-red ink; his father had once again been correct.

Harry Potter,

I desire a meeting between us. It is my wish to discuss your allegiances and where they lie.

You are powerful, Potter. Together we could rule the world.

Consider my offer.

LV

He casually rolled the scroll back up and slid it inside of his robes. He had planning to do, orders to follow. It was a pensive Harry Potter that walked beside Blaise Zabini as the Slytherin students headed down for their morning Potions lesson. Bella Zabini rushed by them, noticed his raised eyebrow, and yelled, “Herbology Book,” before dashing into the common room. Harry allowed a small smile to twitch his lips before following his fellow snakes deeper into the dungeons.

50 --

Bella hurried up the stairs to her dormitory, a determined look on her face. She was remembering Snape’s ‘Welcome Speech’ and his admonishments that Slytherins would arrive at class on time and not lose Slytherin House Points. She had precisely three minutes to fetch her book and make it to the Greenhouses, before she violated both of those rules.

It was this reason that her attention was on running as fast as her legs could carry her. It was why she didn’t sense the person hiding in the dark alcove as she headed out of the dungeons. Her loud breathing covered the quietly whispered words of the spell, and she was hit in the back, not far from the small pit of darkness. Her cry of shock was quickly silenced with a twitch of her attacker’s wand, leaving her bound and virtually helpless.

The sharp kick to her ribs forced her over onto her back and her shocked gaze finally landed on the owner of the eyes that haunted her.

--

Ginny Weasley reached down and grabbed the little girl by her hair, dragging her across the rough stone floor into the alcove away from prying eyes. For weeks, she had watched the bint and now the child would pay for all of the crimes she had committed against Ginny Weasley.

The sixth-year summoned manacles from the wall and clamped them around Bella’s wrists and ankles, locking the girl in place. Her brown eyes smirked down into dark ones as she spoke, “You brought this upon yourself you know. None of this would have been necessary if you hadn’t attempted to take away what’s mine. He’s mine and you have no right to him.”

--

Bella stood frozen in place, fighting the terror in her mind. Not again. She couldn’t be bound to a wall again. If only she could reach her daggers. If only her limbs hadn’t been paralyzed. So many ‘if only’ statements drifted through her mind. What? How was this her fault?

--

“I’m the one he belongs to,” Ginny stated conversationally, a manic glint in her eyes. “Dumbledore told me so. He promised that Harry would marry me when I was younger. I’m going to be Mrs. Potter. I will be the one to bear his children. Not you!” she snarled, slapping the smaller girl.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him. I’ve seen you hugging him,” she spat, “I’ve seen you kiss his cheek!” The redheaded girl patted Bella’s cheek lovingly. “Yes, this really is your fault. Harry is mine, and I won’t have you contaminating him with your filth.”

--

Bella felt tears build up in her eyes at the hate-filled gaze that was directed at her. Harry? This girl was doing this to her because she wanted Harry? If Bella could have laughed at the bint’s stupidity, she would have. No one owned Harry. Her Harry was special and free. The only people who would ever have a claim on Harry were their Lord and Harry’s future mate.

-- 51 “He was born to be a Gryffindor. Both of his parents were in Gryffindor, and he is meant to be there as well. I don’t know what you have done to him to get him sorted into Slytherin, but I will find out, and you will be punished.” Ginny smirked. “Harry will be shown the truth, and then he will return to us, as it’s meant to be. I will be his girlfriend and later his wife. Ron will be his close friend and confidant.”

“You,” Ginny stated cruelly, “will be forgotten. Your brother will be forgotten. Your House will be forgotten. Gryffindor will be all that matters to him. Our values will replace the twisted ones he has been shown by you lot. Harry will be happy with us. Happy and safe.”

--

Bella continuously pushed against the fear that was clouding her mind, she needed to keep her mind clear so that she could try and find a way out of this situation. The girl’s words were so naïve. Safe? Harry didn’t need anyone to keep him safe; he was quite able to do that on his own. Happy? Bella knew that she made Harry happy, but she was sure that Blaise could make him even happier. More than anything else, she wanted Blaise to be the one who bonded with her Harry.

--

Ginny stared into the teary, yet defiant, eyes of the little Slytherin. “How amusing,” she drawled, “you think he is going to save you, don’t you? You think that Harry will appear and choose you over me. Foolish, ignorant child.” Ginny ran her wand mockingly down the side of Bella’s face. “He will not choose you. I’m more important. He will not save you. I’ll make him realize you deserve this. He does not love you. I alone reside in his heart. You do not matter. You have never mattered. You will never matter. Harry doesn’t care. He isn’t coming. He has forsaken you.”

The redhead stepped back in relish as the tears began pouring from the petite girl before her. She could see a small dribble of blood leaking from Bella’s mouth. Ginny smirked and wiped the blood away, leaning forward to whisper in the Slytherin’s ear, “Now you know why I left your throat muscles free.” She grinned into the dark hair. “How does it feel, thief, to silently scream until your throat bleeds?”

--

Bella closed her eyes, unable to look at her captor another moment. The memories of the past were drowning out the present and she didn’t want to have to live through both experiences at the same time. Bella Zabini summoned every bit of magic she could and thrust it into her daggers, mentally screaming for her savior, “Harry!” The magic left her, and her world fell dark.

--

Harry Potter was listening to Snape’s instructions on the day’s potion when his daggers grew warm against his skin and he heard Bella’s voice screaming in his mind. Harry leapt to his feet whispering, “Bella,” and fled the room using his Bloodline Gift to find her. He knew that Blaise had heard his quiet exclamation, and was following, but he wasn’t about to object. Blaise had every right to want to protect Bella. Harry sped down the hallways, following the magical signature to a small alcove near the exit of the dungeons.

Harry and Blaise slipped into the alcove, taking in the sight of little Bella Zabini, manacled to the wall, bruised, and bleeding. Blaise banished the bindings, deftly catching his sister’s falling body as Harry grabbed Bella’s attacker by the throat. Hatred flared in Harry’s soul as he hissed, “Lord Slytherin, I seek to punish the unworthy.” The back wall of the alcove opened and Harry shoved the female inside, closing the wall behind 52 him as he turned to Blaise and Bella.

Harry followed the two Slytherins back to the common room, grateful for once that there were no portraits in this part of the dungeons except for Salazar. The Founder saw them coming and ordered the entrance to allow them in; they passed through and quickly climbed the stairs to their dormitory, sealing the door behind them. Blaise strode forward and settled Bella down on his bed, politely turning his head as Harry enfolded her in a shrunken pair of his pajamas.

The two wizards fought to keep the hatred out of their eyes as they slowly healed the wounds she had received. Blaise worked on the bruises on her face as Harry healed her ribs. With silent agreement, they joined efforts to heal the damage that her silent screams had done to her throat. They carefully cleaned the blood from her mouth and banished it from her lungs and stomach. Blaise aimed his dagger at his sister and clearly stated, “Enervate!” Nothing happened.

Blaise Zabini turned slightly pain-filled eyes on Harry and whispered, “She will be more receptive to you than me. You are the one who saved her last time.”

Harry knew that the statement was true. Bella had clearly become trapped in the memories of her past, when she had been held prisoner. Harry had saved her then and she would accept him because he was already in those memories. He would have to use Legilimency against her unconscious mind and save her again. In doing so, his body would be left completely vulnerable to outside attack.

The Assassin Heir’s emerald eyes burned into the fathomless one’s before him as he stated, “Blaise Zabini, until I return to my body, I name you my Sanctus Patronus.” Harry settled onto the bed and gazed at Bella’s closed eyes whispering, “Legilimens.” His body fell limp as he entered the darkness she was trapped in.

--

Blaise stood rooted to the spot by Harry Potter’s words. Sanctus Patronus. It was the second highest honor that could be conferred upon someone in assassin society. It literally meant Sacred Protector. The assassins had created this Rite in Merlin’s Era. The person who was named Sanctus Patronus was responsible for the person who granted it. It expressed a complete show of trust in the other assassin’s abilities.

This sacred trust had been overheard by a group of pure-blood wizards, who worked together to create a guardian for pure-bloods. Thus the Patronus Spell had been born.

Harry Potter believed Blaise Zabini was skilled enough to guard his unresponsive body from all attacks. His body and mind were a swirl of confusion. He stared at the unconscious boy in shock. Never before had he been granted such an honor. He would never betray such a show of trust. In that moment, Blaise Zabini vowed to watch over and protect Harry Potter.

--

Bella Zabini smiled happily as she followed her mother into Diagon Alley. Her older brother had received his Hogwarts Letter and they needed to get his supplies. Bella stayed close to her mother, as she had been ordered to, when a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and a quietly whispered word drowned her in darkness.

She opened her eyes to find herself in small cold cell. She shifted her hands, reaching for her daggers, when a sharp clanking sound echoed in her ears and pain flooded her body. She glanced up to see that her hands were bound to the wall with manacles, as were her ankles. Bella struggled against her bindings, pulling harshly, 53 rubbing the skin on her wrists raw. She felt the blood running across her skin and tried to wet her hands and wriggle them out of her bindings.

They didn’t budge. She couldn’t get out of them. Tears slowly began to drip down her face in frustration; she was stuck. Bella turned her head in dejection and was gifted with the sight of her daggers. They were lined up on a table across the room. She didn’t even try to fight the growl that tore through her throat at the sight. How dare someone touch her daggers? They were hers!

Her head whipped up at the sound of her cell door opening. A large man, and small blonde woman stepped through the door. The man strode forward and glared at her. “You should not fight the bindings, you will only damage yourself. Damaged goods are not worth as much. Stop struggling.” His words infuriated the dark child and she pulled harder against the chains in defiance. The man pointed his wand at the girl and froze her from the shoulders down.

The blonde woman gazed at Bella thoughtfully. “She is quite spirited.”

“Yes, my Lady. I think that the people who visit your establishment would be quite pleased with her.” He smirked.

Bella’s eyes widened in fear at the words. “I’ll not go anywhere with you! You filthy, disgusting…” Her words were silenced with a spell.

The man snarled, “You will go where you are told, little girl. With whomever I sell you to.”

The petite woman grinned maliciously. “She is a lovely child, let me see the rest of her before I decide.”

The man conjured a knife and cut away the clothing that protected her modesty, revealing her nudity to the woman’s assessing gaze. “She is beautiful for a child,” the beefy man leered.

“I agree. I think she will do well in my establishment. I have several customers who will enjoy her.” The woman smirked. Her pale gaze fell on the table that held Bella’s daggers. “She had these with her?”

“Yes,” the man answered, “I have no idea why she has four wands. Maybe the girl is a thief.”

“Regardless, I will purchase her,” the woman stated.

“Of course, my Lady.” He bowed obsequiously. “Let us return to my office and discuss the details.” The woman left the cell and the man strode towards Bella, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “Scream yourself bloody child, no one is going to save you.” His laughter echoed in the room even after he had left.

Bella wept tears of humiliation, as she stood frozen in a stranger’s dungeon. She couldn’t escape. She couldn’t send for help. She couldn’t cover her nudity. Her silent screams resounded in her mind, as her throat was shredded under the weight of her agony.

Her grief was so palpable that she let her gaze fall to the floor. Therefore, she didn’t see the door as it silently opened, and she didn’t notice that her daggers inexplicably disappeared from the table. She did however, feel the hand that gently caressed her face as the manacles disappeared. She did relax the moment she caught a glimpse of her rescuer’s daggers. She fell into his arms and let him free her.

He clutched the small girl in his arms and carried her out of her captor’s home, striding outside of the Anti- Disapparition Wards and returning to his own manor. 54 Bella smiled tremulously at her savior as he deftly healed her wounds and removed the spells that she was under. She gazed into his eyes and asked, “Who are you?”

He continued working on her wrists as he answered, “Harry Potter, though you probably know me as Onyx Snow.”

He handed her a Pain Potion and watched as she swallowed it without grimacing. Harry carried her into the bathroom and settled her into the large bubble bath. Her quietly whispered words reached his ears, “How did you find me?”

Harry’s gaze weighed her, and found her worthy. “The Evans Bloodline possesses the ability to find someone through their magical signature, regardless of wards and protections.”

The small girl nodded at the explanation and stated, “Even though it was an assigned mission, thank you for saving me.”

The emerald eyes softened as they gazed at the fierce child. “I would have come even if it wasn’t an assigned mission,” he stated, depositing her daggers on the vanity.

“Why?” she queried.

“Because,” Harry responded, “it was the right thing to do.”

“Are you leaving me then?” she asked her savior.

“No, little Steel, I’m not leaving you,” he answered as he walked towards the bathroom door. “Anytime you need me call for me, and I will hear you. I promise.”

--

Harry’s body stirred as he came back to himself, slowly stretching his arms and legs. He sat up and glanced down at Bella, smiling slightly as her eyes fluttered open. “I knew you would come,” she whispered before rolling over and drifting into a peaceful rest.

Harry rose to his feet and stepped away from the bed, waiting patiently for Blaise to erect the wards that would keep her safe. Upon completion, Blaise turned to Harry and stated, “I relinquish my role as your Sanctus Patronus.”

Harry inclined his head to Blaise and answered, “I’m honored to have chosen well.”

The two young men left the room in silence, heading down the stairs and out into the hallway. Every step they took towards the alcove re-ignited the fury that had been pushed aside as they saw to Bella’s welfare. The Slytherins entered the pit of shadows and Harry hissed, “Lord Slytherin, I have come to punish the unworthy.” The wall folded back and allowed the two men entrance, the torches lining the room lit as they entered.

Harry stepped forward, glaring with hate-filled eyes down at the sobbing mass of red hair. “Welcome to Slytherin’s Torture Chamber.” He grabbed the weeping girl by her hair and dragged her to the center of the room, waiting patiently as Blaise summoned manacles and bound her arms to the ones hanging from the ceiling as her feet were locked to the floor.

55 Harry glanced at his companion and saw the loathing in the dark eyes. “I take it you know her.”

“Harry Potter, this is the Weaslette. Ron Weasley’s little sister,” Blaise snarled.

His eyes flared angrily as Harry walked over to the entrance and picked up the fallen wand. He twirled it casually between his fingers and stood before her. “Why?” he asked.

“She deserved it,” Ginny began.

“Wrong answer,” Harry responded, snapping her wand in half. “Let us try again. Why?”

Her cry of agony at the sight of her beloved wand being destroyed did not touch them. They did not care. “He promised me!” she wailed.

“Who promised you, what?” Blaise questioned.

“The Headmaster promised me Harry’s hand in marriage. That little bint has no right to kiss him or touch him,” she spat. Her statement was met with a harsh slap across the face.

“You will not address my sister like that,” Blaise snarled.

Harry gazed into her brown eyes and spoke. “The Headmaster does not have the authority to make such promises. I can assure you, that I will not be marrying you.”

“Yes, you will!” she cried. “He said that as a pure-blood daughter of a light family I’m the only one who is worthy of you.”

Blaise conjured two large whips with barbed tips and passed one to Harry. “You are not worthy,” they snapped. In a mirrored dance, their arms rose and fell tearing open Ginny Weasley’s unmarked skin. Blood dripped down her back and the wet slapping sound was music to their ears. As were the anguished screams that ripped from her throat. The whips were dropped as she sank into the blessed realm of unconsciousness.

“That is not allowed,” Blaise drawled. He pressed an Obsidian Dagger against her temple and said, “Vis Intentio.” They smirked as her eyes jerked open. “Welcome back.”

“We are not done with you yet,” Harry stated. His gaze bore into her as he forced his way into her mind and relived what she had done to Bella. His eyes glowed Avada Kedavra green as he gazed at the disgusting piece of filth before him.

“Harry,” she sobbed, “why are you doing this? How is he controlling you? Tell me and I can save you!”

“I do not need to be saved,” he hissed. “Blaise is not controlling me. I’m my own person. My decisions are my own. My actions are my own.” His eyes became mocking. “Why am I doing this? You deserve it. You brought this on yourself.” The widening of her eyes at the familiar words amused him. “You are nothing to me. Bella is special. You cannot spend time with me. Bella can. Your life is meaningless. Bella’s isn’t.”

“Harry, you can’t mean that! I love you!” Ginny wailed.

Blaise reached upwards and grasped her arm, fracturing it, and pulling it down so that he held her hand in his palm. Blaise smiled as he slid the tip of his Obsidian Dagger under her smallest fingernail, relishing in the scream he received. A glance to the side showed that Harry was mirroring his actions on her other hand. “He 56 doesn’t love you,” Blaise stated conversationally. “He will never love you.”

“Yes, he will.” She panted through the pain, tears dripping down her face. “That little cunt cannot steal…”

Blaise’s eyes hardened and went cold. “Do not speak of my sister that way,” his voice held a clear warning. A lethal warning. A warning that was ignored.

“I will speak of the filthy slut any way…” Her words ended in a piercing scream as Blaise reached forth and removed her tongue, casually sealing the end so she wouldn’t bleed out.

Harry slid his blood stained Ivory Dagger under her next fingernail and emotionlessly pulled it back. “You shouldn’t have touched her you know,” he began. “Pure-bloods should know better than to touch anything that belongs to an assassin.” His eyes glowed brighter as he saw the anguished realization she came to. “No one will ever know what happened to you.” Another fingernail was methodically torn away from her bleeding raw flesh. “No one will be coming to save you.” He continued his work, mirroring Blaise. “You have been judged; you are unworthy.”

Harry raised his dagger and sliced open her shirt, revealing the unmarred skin of her stomach. “I’ll tell you a secret.” With precise deft strokes, he carved letters into her flesh. He rose from his task with a malicious smile on his face and leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “The Assassin Motto: Life is a dagger of darkness that carves away the light, and leaves you drowning in the absolute meaninglessness of your existence.”

He stepped back from the Gryffindor and held his hand out to Blaise, entwining their bloody fingers. In unison, the two assassins pointed their daggers at Ginny Weasley and spoke a Banishing Charm, focusing on the magic in Harry’s scar. With precise movements, they cleaned their daggers and robes before leaving the Chamber. After exiting, Harry turned to the wall and hissed, “My thanks Lord Slytherin, for the use of your Chamber.” The two Slytherins left the alcove and headed back to their room and Bella.

--

In another part of Britain, crimson eyes narrowed at the red-haired body of a barely alive Ginny Weasley. Lord Voldemort smirked down at the foolish Gryffindor in vengeful glee. She finally died, as he read the message that was craved into her flesh.

Voldemort,

I will see you over the Easter Hols.

Enjoy your gift.

Happy Halloween.

HJP

--

Rule Ten: An assassin must be able to lie with ease.

The day after Halloween was the same as every other day, or at least people on the outside looking in would think so. If Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini sat a little closer to Bella Zabini than they normally did, it surely

57 wasn’t worth more than a glance. The three Slytherins sat in silence, with their masks firmly in place, and one would have to know them very well to notice anything different in the way they acted. Very few could see the difference, and of those who did, their silent questions were answered when the Daily Prophet was delivered that morning.

You-Know-Who Murders Hogwarts’ Student!

It is this writer’s duty to tell everyone that Miss Ginevra Weasley, daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, was killed yesterday by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Miss Weasley was in her sixth-year at Hogwarts and was a member of the illustrious Gryffindor House. Her disappearance from the school was announced yesterday evening after her brother reported to Dumbledore that his younger sister was missing.

Some readers may recognize Miss Weasley’s name from when it appeared in the papers five years ago. Miss Weasley was possessed by You-Know-Who in her first-year at Hogwarts and was responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets.

At this time, it is unknown whether or not Miss Weasley voluntarily left Hogwarts’ Grounds. Perhaps He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named still had a connection with her mind and convinced the poor girl to leave the safety of the school. Or mayhap she has been a dark witch since her first-year and sought out You-Know-Who hoping to join him.

What this writer does know is that last night, Miss Weasley’s head was delivered to her parents by an owl. The Dark Mark had been branded into her left cheek.

Once again, we are forced to wonder if Hogwarts is a safe place for our children. Did You-Know-Who get into the school or did Miss Weasley leave it? We have no way of knowing, but this reporter hopes to figure this puzzle out.

Rita Skeeter Freelance Reporter

The students set down their papers in shock. They couldn’t believe that Ginny Weasley had been murdered; most of the school had seen her just yesterday morning. The Gryffindor students sat in utter disbelief, staring at the spot where the girl normally sat, finally understanding why Ronald Weasley was also absent that morning. They had assumed he was still looking for Ginny.

The Headmaster rose to his feet and addressed the quiet student body. “Students, it is with great regret that I must inform you that the Daily Prophet is correct. Miss Ginevra Weasley has indeed been murdered. At this time, we are still investigating her disappearance, as well as whether or not she left the grounds voluntarily. For this reason, classes will be canceled for the day so that you may mourn in private and remember a wonderful student.” The old man ended his speech and watched as several students immediately headed out of the Great Hall. He stepped down from the High Table and walked until he stood behind Harry. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Zabini, if I may have a moment of your time please?”

The two young men rose to their feet, “Of course, Headmaster,” they answered in unison.

Neville appeared beside Harry and stated, “I can assist Bella with her essay, Harry.”

Harry glanced at the Platinum and inclined his head. “Thank you, Neville. I had intended to do it myself, but the 58 Headmaster has need of me.” He turned his gaze down to Bella and allowed his eyes to thaw slightly. “Neville will stay with you until I can get back to help,” he stated, easing the small girl’s fears.

Blaise and Harry followed silently behind the Headmaster, heading up to his office.

--

Theodore Nott’s sharp eyes had caught the difference in the two Slytherins' actions in regards to Bella Zabini, though he doubted that many people were able to tell. Harry was sitting a few inches closer to her than he normally did, and Blaise occasionally ran a hand down the arm that was closest to him. The two men were clearly protecting her. What he didn’t know was what she was being protected from.

His answer came in the form of the Daily Prophet. The Weaslette was dead. Theodore didn’t believe the tripe for one minute, oh, he was sure that Voldemort had dealt the final blow, but he would bet his trust fund that Harry and Blaise had sent her to the Dark Lord. Her disappearance and their actions today in regards to Bella proved to him that his assumptions were correct.

For a brief moment, Theodore Nott allowed himself to feel pity for the Gryffindor. He could only imagine the horrors that had been visited upon someone stupid enough to attack an assassin’s loved one.

Nott smirked at the undertone he could hear in the old coot’s speech. He was practically begging for someone to provide him with information so he could punish those responsible. Theodore had information; he knew who was responsible for the Weaslette’s disappearance, but he wasn’t going to share that information. Pure-bloods knew better than to go against assassins. Pure-bloods knew better than to anger them or annoy them.

Every pure-blood that was raised properly knew that those of assassin heritage were the most powerful of all wizards and witches. The Elite. The Royalty. If an assassin gave you an order, you followed it, no questions asked. If they told you they had spent the evening playing chess with you, you had spent the evening playing chess with them, and lost. If you were reminded of the marvelous date you had gone on with them last weekend, you told everyone how perfect it had been.

In the wizarding world, the assassins are the Kings and Queens and the pure-bloods are the Knights that do all they can to protect them. In return for their protection, the pure-bloods are looked after and protected by the assassins. If a pure-blood Lady were suffering through a difficult childbirth, an amazing Healer would suddenly appear. If a child went missing, they would inexplicably be found and returned to their family. The assassins did a great deal for them, which was why Theodore Nott spent the morning keeping an eye on Bella Zabini while Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini couldn’t protect her.

--

Luna Lovegood smiled to herself as she wandered the halls of Hogwarts the morning after Halloween. She knew the truth; she had seen it, but it wasn’t her place to tell. The Lord would be angry with her if she did anything that compromised his son’s mission.

The sixth-year Ravenclaw ran a hand down her back to rest it over her birthmark. Three people knew her for what she was, her father, her Lord, and Harry Potter. She did not train with the other assassins. She never went on missions. No, nothing could happen to Luna Lovegood. She was the first to have inherited the Seer abilities in generations, and her Lord was not going to risk her life. There were others that were skilled in killing; she was needed to protect the pure-bloods. She was needed to let her Lord know when those they watched over needed assistance. It was an honored task, and she had been performing it for years.

59 Luna allowed a vacant smile to drift across her face as several Hufflepuffs walked by. Only two other people would ever realize what she was in her lifetime. The mate that would claim Master Harry, and the mate that would claim her.

--

Justin Finch-Fletchley had been best mates with Ernie Macmillan since the night they met their very first day at Hogwarts. They had shared a dorm room for the past seven years, and Justin would stand by Ernie no matter what happened. They were close; close enough to be brothers, yet there would always be a barrier between them.

Justin knew that Ernie snuck out of the dorms every morning, disappearing for close to two hours. He had tried to follow his friend before, and yet he was always eluded, leaving him frustrated. Whenever he broached the topic, he was told that it was something that he was not allowed to know. That hurt Justin, because he wanted to share every aspect of his chosen brother’s life.

He had asked Ernie once why he wasn’t allowed to know. Ernie hadn’t answered, but the silence was answer enough. Justin Finch-Fletchley was a Muggle-born.

--

Hermione Granger hadn’t been at breakfast that morning, so she was unaware of the tragedy that had struck the school; she had been in the library since it opened, diligently searching through book after book as she attempted to find answers to her questions. She refused to stop until she found out what she wanted to know.

Why? Why had Professor Lupin not punished Neville Longbottom for having a second wand and lending it to Harry Potter? Why had he smiled as he watched the duel with a knowing glint in his eyes? Why did Potter and Zabini have such a serious and slightly pleased look on their faces as they battled? Why had Potter’s muscles tensed as Blaise pulled his wand away? What she would have given to see his face in that moment. What had Potter seen that she hadn’t? What did he know that she didn’t?

Hermione Granger had no idea that no matter how hard she searched her questions would remain unanswered. She would never know that Neville had given Harry a dagger and not a wand. She would never realize that her blood barred her from the knowledge, and that those who possessed the knowledge would die before sharing it. No, a Granger would never discover that assassins had unbreakable glamours on their daggers. Glamours, which could only be seen through by other assassins. Everyone else saw beautifully crafted wands.

In fact, Hermione Granger already knew everything she would ever know about assassins. Her information had been read years before in a book that held every Ministry Law. She would never relate that one paragraph to the current situation.

The Elite Bloodlines are charged with keeping the wizarding world safe and honest. In order to achieve this goal and remain neutral, the Elite Bloodlines, also known as ‘Assassins’ are hereby free to perform any action they feel is necessary in accordance with the above goals, without fear of persecution.

--

Seamus Finnegan settled down in a large chair before the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room gazing into the fire. He had his suspicions about what had happened, but he knew they were unlikely to be confirmed. He had always considered Ginny to be a bright girl, but if what he thought had happened, had happened, she had to be the stupidest person he had ever met. He had noticed her staring at the Slytherin table and had seen how her 60 eyes hardened when she glared at the little girl that sat beside Harry Potter, but he hadn’t thought much of it until this morning.

It was today’s paper that made him wonder yet again how many of his fellow students were assassins. The legendary heroes that appeared in the bedtime stories his mother told him. It was their duty to keep the wizarding world, as it should be, protected, honest, and real. They decided the fate of the people, they had the power to pass and repeal laws. If they thought it would benefit the world, they would allow thousands of people to die.

They were incorruptible. Their loyalty could not be purchased at any price; they all served their Lord. The Assassin Lord was a giant in Seamus’ mind. The man commanded an army of skilled and lethal warriors; if he wanted to, he could rule the world; he could do anything. They practiced both Light and Dark Magic, treating them equally, using them as they would. In their eyes, magic was magic. Neither inherently good nor evil.

--

Dean Thomas sat across from his silent friend, absorbed in his own thoughts. He knew Ginny would never willing join Lord Voldemort, he knew she had hated the man. Likewise, he knew she was obsessed with Harry Potter and fancied herself his true love. He knew she wouldn’t leave a school Harry Potter was in, which meant she had been forcibly removed.

It was no personal loss to Dean that Ginny had died, but he felt bad for his friend Ronald Weasley. He knew Ron had cared about the annoying girl. In fact, if he were honest with himself, he was quite glad the little chit was gone. It was this darkness in him, which secretly hoped the assassins had gotten ahold of her. That she had been punished for her actions against them; whatever those actions may be.

Oh yes, Dean Thomas was quite pleased that he knew something the Muggle-borns would never know. He was proud to be a half-blood, with a father that had told him about the Elite. His father had told him that some of the assassins went against everything they had been taught and married regular witches and wizards. It was a great honor and a great shame. An honor that an assassin had chosen them to love and a shame that the assassin had to abandon their ways. Dean Thomas was one of a great many children who occasionally feel asleep to dreams of being claimed by an Elite, who would forsake their past, in order to have a future full of forbidden love.

--

Blaise and Harry settled into the seats that Dumbledore offered them. “Can I interest you boys in tea?” the old coot asked.

“No thank you, Headmaster,” they replied.

“Lemon drop?” he queried.

“No thank you, Headmaster,” they stated calmly.

“Very well then, my boys, down to business I see.” His blue eyes were, for once, not twinkling at them. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about what happened to poor Miss Weasley, would you?”

Harry and Blaise didn’t show any emotion, as they answered, “No, sir.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and gazed at them with calculating eyes. “I have it on good authority that you two left your first period Potions class in a hurry.” 61 “We did,” Harry agreed. “Yesterday – it brought back memories I prefer to forget.” He allowed a small blush to appear on his cheeks. “I just couldn’t stay there, I had to get away.” It had brought back memories all right, but not the ones Dumbledore would assume he had meant.

The blue eyes turned to scrutinize Harry’s companion. “And yourself, Mr. Zabini?”

“I have taken it upon myself to watch out for Harry since he arrived here, sir,” the Slytherin said. “I followed him to ensure that he didn’t get lost in his distressed frame of mind.”

“I see,” the Headmaster stated.

“We spent the whole day in our dorms after that. There are several Slytherins who can verify our presence there,” Harry added helpfully.

“Indeed. Very well. Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began, “perhaps you can inform me as to why Mr. Krum was in the school two evenings past?”

“He was visiting, sir,” Harry answered blandly.

“Visiting?” Dumbledore blinked in shock.

“Yes, visiting. Viktor and I are quite close. I had a chance to meet him in my travels and got to know him. We keep in touch,” Harry stated.

“Interesting,” Dumbledore replied, slightly unnerved that Harry was the friend of someone who had attended Durmstrang. The school was dark, and it generally produced dark witches and wizards. He didn’t want his savior associating with people of that sort. “It has been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Yes, sir. Viktor hasn’t been to Britain since he participated in the Triwizard Tournament.” And lost, Harry snickered to himself. Viktor had been livid for months after losing to Cedric Diggory, a student of non-assassin heritage.

“I see.” The once again twinkling blue eyes bore into the two Slytherins. “You will let me know if you hear anything, won’t you my boys?”

“Of course, Headmaster,” they responded dutifully, before leaving his office.

The venerable wizard sat wearily in his chair, asking himself the same question repeatedly. “How did you do it, Tom? How did you do it?”

--

Rule Eleven: Assassins must obey the Assassin Lord.

Sirius Black had of course read in the newspaper that his godson had returned to the wizarding world. He had ignored the fact that Harry was a Slytherin, it didn’t matter; the boy was still James’ son. In fact, he had wanted to immediately visit the boy at Hogwarts and get to know his godson. However, Dumbledore had asked him to wait several weeks so that Harry could get used to the school and make some friends. So he had waited, however, with the latest happenings at the school he would not wait any longer.

62 Sirius was well aware that Harry was of assassin heritage; he had seen the birthmark himself. In fact, Sirius Black had a similar birthmark, though only a few knew of it. His estrangement from his family had nothing to do with him being sorted into Gryffindor House, as so many believed. No, his family had hated him for turning his back on his heritage. He was the only Black to ever refuse a mission and disobey the Assassin Lord. His parents never forgave him for shaming their blood.

When he had escaped from Azkaban almost four years ago, he had hoped that he would see his godson, but that was not to happen. Harry hadn’t been with the Dursleys, he hadn’t been anywhere, and Sirius had discovered that James’ son was missing. He was determined to find the boy, but couldn’t search openly for him as a wanted criminal. It was with this thought in mind that he snuck into Hogwarts and caught Peter Pettigrew, obtaining his freedom.

With his name cleared, Sirius Black began to search for his godson in earnest, offering reward money and valuables. No information ever reached his ears. The silence was answer enough. Harry had been taken in and raised by assassins who were protecting the boy.

Many people would have been disgusted with Sirius if they had known what he was thinking when Lord Voldemort returned. The Black Lord was excited, for he knew of the prophecy, and he knew the assassins would also know of it. Harry Potter was the only person who could defeat Lord Voldemort, so Harry would eventually come into the public eye, all he had to do, was wait. And sure enough, Harry Potter appeared.

Sirius Black felt he had waited long enough, and Apparated to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards before walking up the path to the school. He entered shortly after the first class had ended and waited in the Entrance Hall. Albus had told him Harry’s schedule and he knew his godson would be leaving Potions class and heading up to Charms. His eyes watched the staircase that came up from the dungeon, waiting to catch sight of Harry.

When the boy came into view, his breath caught in his throat. He was smaller than James had been, his hair was long instead of messy, he had Lily’s eyes, but everything else was James’. The aristocratic cheekbones, the small straight nose, and the black hair. He was looking at a miniature version of his best friend, with Lily’s eyes. “Harry!” he called out, catching the young man’s attention.

--

Harry turned his head as someone yelled his name and watched impassively as Sirius Black approached him. His emotionless eyes took in the figure of the man who his unworthy father had named his godfather. He could say with all honesty that Sirius Black was one of three people that he hated. The black-haired man was an assassin born with a great heritage and he had shunned that heritage, disobeying their Lord. However, it wasn’t for that reason that Harry hated him, no, Harry hated him for a much more personal reason.

The very first rule in the Assassin Handbook stated, ‘Assassins take care of their own.’ They protected each other, watched out for each other, cared for each other. This was common knowledge. Sirius Black was an assassin; he had known that his godson was an assassin. He had left an innocent assassin infant, who had just lost its parents, and gone in search of vengeance leaving the child with virtual strangers and landing himself in prison through his own stupidity.

The man who had been named his godfather stopped before him. “Harry, it’s so good to see you again! I’m your godfather, Sirius Black. You look so much like James,” the man stated, stepping forward to pull Harry into a hug.

Harry backed away from the man and reached into his robes, removing the red envelope his father had given 63 him for this occasion. The inevitable day Sirius Black appeared before him. Harry extended the envelope and the moment Sirius’ hand closed around it, he turned and led his fellow Slytherins away from the shocked form of his unwanted godfather.

--

Sirius accepted the red envelope in shock, unable to take his eyes away from it until his godson turned around and left without ever once speaking to him. With trembling hands, he opened the letter.

Grim Reaper,

Harry Potter is under my direct protection.

You are forbidden from speaking to him. You are forbidden from writing to him. You are forbidden from sending him gifts of any sort.

On the night of October 31, 1981, you left him with strangers, breaking the first rule we learn as assassins. You shamed the Black Bloodline yet again.

Attempt to contact him in any way whatsoever, and I will order your death at his hands.

Empty Shadows

Sirius Black stood frozen in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the consequences of his actions that night fell upon him. Stunned tears dripped down his cheeks, to fall upon the burning red parchment he held in his hand. Only one thought was on his mind, ‘What have I done?’

--

Harry was silent as his fellow Slytherins followed him to Charms. The assassins were replaying the interaction between Harry and Sirius Black in their minds. The way Harry had avoided his touch and not spoken one word to him. Yet, it was the red envelope that held their attention. A death threat. What had Sirius Black done to receive a death threat from the Assassin Lord? It was simply one more question they had in regards to Harry Potter.

The students claimed their usual seats, and Harry nodded at Neville who sat beside him as usual. “What’s wrong?” the Gryffindor asked.

Harry gazed into the honey-brown eyes and spoke, “Sirius Black.”

Neville’s hiss of anger drew Blaise and Draco’s attention. “That bastard actually had the bollocks to come here?”

“Yes,” Harry smirked, “I gave him the red envelope.”

“He better heed it,” Neville snarled, “I could kill the bastard myself for what he did.”

Blaise glanced at them curiously as he spoke, “I know he had been accused of betraying Harry’s parents to Voldemort, but he was cleared of those charges a few years ago. What did he do?”

Harry stared into the Slytherin’s eyes as he answered, “He left me with strangers to chase after Pettigrew.” 64 Blaise shook with anger. “He didn’t leave you with a suitable assassin family to watch over you?”

“How were you raised as an assassin then?” Draco queried indignantly.

“I was left with a family of Muggles,” Harry answered. “Luckily, my father was informed of this and came to get me.”

As their professor entered the room, every person at Harry’s table was imagining creative ways to kill Sirius Black for what he had done to an innocent child.

--

Professor Flitwick stood before his NEWT Charms class and said, “Professor Lupin has asked that I teach you the Patronus Charm, so that he will have time to cover other spells in his Defense class. I feel that this is an important spell and have agreed to accept the task of teaching it to you.” His eyes scanned the students. “Now, does anyone know what the Patronus Charm is?”

Hermione Granger’s hand flew into the air and she smiled when the professor nodded to her. “The Patronus Charm is a spell that is used to fight Dementors and Lethifolds.”

“Correct Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor. Does anyone know the incantation?” the small man queried.

Pansy didn’t wait to be called on before answering, “Expecto Patronum, sir.”

“Quite right Miss Parkinson, five points to Slytherin,” his voice squeaked. “How is it cast?”

“It is an emotive spell,” Ernie Macmillan stated, “a spell that is tied to emotions and cannot be cast unless a specified emotion is present. In order to correctly cast the spell, the wizard or witch must concentrate on a happy memory.”

“Very well done. Five points to Hufflepuff,” Flitwick stated. “Now, today you will be practicing the spell. This is not an easy spell, so please do not become discouraged if you cannot cast it. I, myself, am unable to produce a Corporeal Patronus.”

“Corporeal Patronus?” Finch-Fletchley asked.

“Indeed. Just saying the incantation doesn’t guarantee you success. Many adult wizards and witches are unable to cast this spell correctly. It is likely that you will only ever be able to produce a silver mist that while it won’t force the attacker to leave, will keep it away from you. However, some individuals are powerful enough to create what is known as a Corporeal Patronus. The silver mist takes on the form of that individual’s protector and is always some type of animal.” The small wizard gazed at Harry. “Someone with Mr. Potter’s strength for example, would likely be able to cast a Corporeal Patronus.”

“Indeed,” Harry stated, answering the question that was not a question.

The professor squeaked excitedly, “Would you please show the class, Mr. Potter?”

Harry rose from his seat and removed one of his daggers fingering it lovingly as he remembered the day his father had given him his Ivory Daggers. “Expecto Patronum!” he stated. A silver Thestral shot from the tip of his dagger and trotted down the aisle before returning to Harry. When the Thestral reached him, Harry bent at 65 the waist and smiled slightly as the creature nudged him. “Father,” he whispered quietly, so that only the students at his table could hear.

Harry retook his seat when the lovely Thestral disappeared, ignoring the shocked whispers that echoed through the room. The squeaking professor drew his attention. “That was amazing, Mr. Potter! A Thestral, how unique! Twenty-five points to Slytherin,” he continued, “and that, is a Corporeal Patronus, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. Now, get to work.”

Blaise Zabini smirked to himself. He had received a great many answers to his questions when Harry had cast that spell. He now knew who Harry’s Sanctus Patronus was. He knew who held the Rite of Unus Quisnam Custodiae for Harry. Just as he now understood why Horus obeyed Harry’s orders; Harry Potter was the Assassin Lord’s Heir. The chosen successor, who would one day wield the most legendary daggers in their culture. Daggers made of Thestral Bone.

--

The sharp cry at dinner drew Harry’s attention and he glanced up to see Horus diving for him, clutching a silver envelope. All over the hall, assassin’s eyes hardened as the owl settled on Harry’s shoulder and waited for the missive to be removed before flying off. Of all they years they had been at Hogwarts, none of them had ever received a silver envelope at school. Top Secret, Highest Priority Mission.

Harry calmly rose to his feet and exited the hall, heading down to his dormitory. In the silent room, he opened the missive and smirked. Malicious glee spread across his face. They had finally found him.

--

Rule Twelve: Assassins must be meticulous in their revenge.

Harry entered the Slytherin Dueling Chambers the next morning and pulled Blaise, Draco, and Neville over to the side. Harry erected a Silencing Barrier and said, “You three will be accompanying me on a mission today.” He removed the silver letter from his robes and showed it to his companions.

Onyx Snow,

We have finally managed to pinpoint the location of the man who has been capturing the magical children and selling them as prostitutes. He will be in Knockturn Alley tomorrow.

I am entrusting the mission to yourself and whomever you deign to take along.

I want him dead.

May your daggers stay sharp.

Empty Shadows

Blaise’s dark eyes grew hard in rage. “The man who took Bella?” he asked.

“Yes, the man who took Bella.” Harry grimaced. “My father has been attempting to locate him ever since that day. He manages to evade us by only being in the same area for mere hours at a time.” The emerald eyes

66 glowed. “Failure on this mission will not be tolerated. I am taking you three with me.”

“It is an honor to serve with you,” they replied.

The four assassins stretched in place as they quietly discussed what they would need to do to accomplish the mission. When the training period ended Harry lowered the Silencing Barrier and the four men left the room. Blaise smirked slightly as he glanced over at Harry. “Harry, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to Hogsmeade today?”

Harry smiled softly. “I would greatly enjoy your company today, Blaise. Thank you for the invitation.”

The young men returned to their common rooms with a lot on their minds. They showered and prepared for breakfast, dressing in clothes that looked casual but were easy to maneuver in for their mission. They calmly ate their breakfast, contemplating the next few hours and their part in the mission. After the meal, they rose to their feet and gathered in the Entrance Hall waiting for their names to be checked off the list so they could leave the school.

The three Slytherins and one Gryffindor calmly strolled down the pathway, waiting for the other students to pass them. When they were relatively alone, the group of students disillusioned themselves, and Harry whispered to Draco, “Now, if you would, Scarlet Death.”

Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on his Elite Bloodline Gift. A moment later, an illusion of the four students continued walking down the path to Hogsmeade. “It will last for four hours,” Draco stated. “We must return by then.”

“Will anyone be able to detect it?” Neville asked.

“No, my sweet,” Draco drawled. “The illusion can be touched, it will act as we do, and it can also drink, eat and carry things. I have essentially cloned us for the next four hours.”

“Brilliant,” Neville said.

“Indeed,” Harry stated with a smirk. “I want all of you to Apparate to the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron.” The four young men quickly cast a spell that would cover all noise they made, excluding only themselves, and Disapparated.

The assassins appeared before the brick wall that led into Diagon Alley and shifted over to the side to wait. Roughly ten minutes later a young woman with a small child exited the pub and tapped the bricks, opening the way for them to enter. Harry, Blaise, Draco, and Neville slipped inside behind her and carefully navigated their way through the small crowd, avoiding contact with the wizards and witches present. They crept off to the side and down into the darkness known as Knockturn Alley.

The four young men spread out, each claiming a small area to watch over, they were not going to miss the man. Though not one of them would admit it, they were all slightly nervous about this mission. With the exception of Harry, this was the first mission where they were to find the mark by magical signature alone, with no photograph.

The first hour passed in silence with few people wandering down the alley. The second hour showed the shopkeepers doing more business than the first, but there was still no sign of the target. Their muscles grew tenser as time passed and the man did not appear. They only had an hour and a half left before they had to be in Hogsmeade; time was running out. 67 It was Blaise Zabini who watched a muscled man step from the fireplace in Borgin and Burkes. He beckoned the other three over and they stared at the man who was responsible for kidnapping so many magical children. Harry’s eyes widened and he quickly cast de-scenting spells on his companions. “Bloody Hell!” he snarled. “We have to take him in there,” Harry hissed, “otherwise, he will simply leave through the Floo when he has completed his business.”

Draco saw the hatred on Harry’s face and whispered, “You know him.”

“Indeed,” Harry replied, “meet Mulciber, the alpha of the largest daylight werewolf pack in Britain.”

Blaise gazed at his companions. “This is going to be violent and messy. We don’t have time to plan this out, we’re going to have to improvise.” As he finished speaking, Lucius Malfoy came strolling down the alley heading for Borgin and Burkes. He opened the door and held it for a few moments, allowing the four assassins to slip inside, before entering himself.

Lucius headed off to the back shelves confidently, ignoring the chaos that was sure to happen behind him.

Blaise and Draco stood in front of the fireplace guarding the Floo exit. Neville leaned back against the door, preventing anyone from entering, and Harry stood in the middle of the room waiting for Mulciber to leave the back room. The proprietor led Mulciber back into the shop front and froze at the vicious growl that tore from his customer’s throat.

The werewolf leapt over the counter and attacked Harry, watching the movement of the magical aura so he could counter the attacks. He bent backwards, avoiding the invisible dagger that slashed toward his stomach and twisted his head to the side, avoiding the Cutting Curse sent from the doorway. He dropped to the floor and rolled to the left, dodging the Binding and Blinding Hexes sent from the fireplace and dove in that direction, seeking escape. Before he reached it, a sudden flood of water had vanquished the fire.

Mulciber snarled and concentrated, shifting over into his werewolf form. He dove at the figure in the middle of the room, and caught Harry’s pants with his claws, shredding them and barely missing the tender flesh they held. The werewolf was so close he couldn’t miss the swipe of retaliation and felt the dagger slice into his left ear. He snarled and leapt around the figure, diving for the doorway.

Neville grabbed the nearest un-cursed object and transfigured it into a silver dagger, holding it before him and stabbing the werewolf in the side, collapsing to the floor with the creature above him. He struggled to avoid the claws, unable to stop them from tearing into his stomach before Mulciber was removed and bound.

Draco stood over the unconscious prisoner as Harry and Blaise worked to heal the damage that had been done to Neville. “Will he…?”

“No,” Harry stated. “He was only clawed, not bitten. He won’t turn.”

The blond relaxed and turned vicious eyes on the creature that had dared to damage his Submissive. Draco pulled his leg back and kicked the werewolf as hard as he could in the bollocks. Smirking in delight at the grimace of agony that passed over the sleeping face.

When Neville’s wounds had closed, Harry turned and stood over their adversary. “We must hurry,” he said seriously. “We only have half an hour left until the illusion fails.” The four assassins reached forth and touched the creature, concentrated on their destination, and Disapparated.

68 They appeared in a large hall that was located in Harry’s home, temporarily lowering the spells that hid their presence. As the overwhelming magical aura of the Assassin Lord approached, Harry’s three companions sank to their knees and bowed their heads. The doors shot open and the cloaked figure strode over to the small group. The silver eyes gazed down at the bound form of the man and smirked. “You have done well, little ones. Leave me.”

“As you wish it, my Lord,” they answered before Disapparating.

They reappeared just outside Hogsmeade in a vacant alley and disillusioned themselves once again, working their way through the crowd to The Three Broomsticks. With the utmost care, they avoided contact with everyone and settled down at the table their illusion occupied, making themselves visible and taking their place.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Draco who had just pulled Neville against his side. “Are you alright, Neville?” Draco asked.

“I’m fine,” Neville replied with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Harry and Blaise healed me perfectly."

“Filthy creature, touching my Submissive, wish the Lord had given him to me,” the blond muttered cruelly.

Blaise snickered silently and glanced at his blond friend. “Draco, what did we do today?”

The Malfoy Heir stopped his rant and stated, “We went to Zonko’s and found nothing worthwhile, the same thing happened at Scrivenshaft’s. I was hoping we might spend some time in Honeydukes now that we have finished our Butterbeers.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Harry stated standing from the booth they were seated at. The other three assassins rose as well and followed him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade. They entered the candy shop as a group and browsed the many sweets that were residing within. Harry walked by the Ice Mice and gathered some Chocolate Frogs and a pack of Sugar Quills. He took his sweets to the counter and paid for them as Blaise, Draco, and Neville purchased Blood Pops, Acid Pops, Liquorice Wands, and Pepper Imps.

The group of students chatted about everything and nothing as they headed back up to the school. Harry dropped back slightly when he caught sight of a certain blue-eyed blonde. Harry walked up to the Ravenclaw and inclined his head, handing the girl the pack of Sugar Quills. “My thanks for the assistance this afternoon, my Lady,” he sincerely stated.

Luna smiled and accepted the gift. “I’m glad he could assist you.” Her eyes grew hard. “I wanted that horrid creature off the streets as much as any of us did.” The blue orbs suddenly glowed sadly. “If only my gift worked on daylight werewolves.”

“It is not your fault, my Lady,” Harry assured her. “You may have never been able to see his location, but your help was instrumental in his capture.”

The Ravenclaw smiled slightly at his words. “Indeed. Blessed be, Onyx Snow.”

“Blessed be, Deceitful Abyss,” Harry replied before nodding and hurrying after his companions.

--

The Assassin Lord glared in hatred at the bound body on the floor. This one man – this creature, had caused so much pain. It had taken them years to get their hands on the man. Now he would suffer. He flicked one of his 69 daggers, removing the bindings, and forcefully transforming the werewolf back into his human form. With a jerk of his daggers, Mulciber flew against the nearest wall and was bound to it by silver chains. The cloaked figure smirked in delight as the creature’s flesh began smoking. With a casual twist of his wrist, he woke the man.

Mulciber snarled in agony as he regained consciousness, struggling against the chains that held him. As the silver sank further into his flesh, he howled his torment, desperate to escape. His hazy eyes finally locked onto the cloaked figure before him and he growled at the dark man.

“Does the poor little werewolf not like being chained to a wall?” the Assassin Lord asked mockingly.

“Free me this instant,” Mulciber snapped.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he drawled.

“I order you to release me!” the werewolf roared. The figure before him blurred and pain flared across his right hand. He glanced to look at it, and blinked in shock, unable to comprehend he was now missing three fingers.

“No one gives me commands,” the man stated heatedly.

Mulciber struggled against the chains once more, stopping only as they began to literally melt through his skin. “My Lord will see you punished for this!” he spat.

The cloaked man snickered cruelly. “No, he won’t. He will never find out what fate has befallen you.”

“He will!” the creature snapped. “He’s a true Lord and will…”

“I am the only true Lord,” the man stated emotionlessly. “A self-given name does not, a true Lord make.”

“You have no right to say that!” Mulciber growled. “Who are you to call yourself a true Lord?”

The Assassin Lord reached up and lowered his hood, showing the creature his face. He relished in the shocked horror that spread across his captive’s visage.

“Merlin’s Bollocks!” Mulciber whispered, “You’re…”

His words halted as the Assassin Lord stepped forward and pressed against the chains with all his strength, slicing the disgusting piece of filth into several chunks. He stared down at the pool of blood that was spreading across the floor. “It is impossible to hide from an assassin; it was foolish of you to think you could.”

--

Rule Thirteen: Assassins must be methodical in their actions.

It was a blustery November day that found Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini in the Slytherin common room surrounded by parchment and books on Ancient Runes. Their term project was due in two days time and they were finally prepared; the ritual would be attempted now. The two assassins had spent many late nights working on the project, diligently striving to get the runes correct and the order precise. And if Harry happened to think the spell would be useful in a task his father had assigned him, he wasn’t telling his partner just yet.

70 The rest of Slytherin House was seated around the room, watching with interest as the two seventh-years carefully arranged the chosen documents. “This one has the ending runes,” Harry stated. “I need the middle sequence.” Harry accepted the offered parchment and laid it on the stone floor.

“What’s the purpose of the spell you’re creating?” Theo asked curiously.

Blaise’s dark eyes flickered to the young man and he answered, “We are creating a spell that will be able to destroy any inanimate object.”

“Even Dark Arts objects?” he asked.

“Yes, even Dark Arts objects,” Harry clarified.

The two assassins finished laying out the documents they needed to complete the project. “Please be silent while we do this next part,” Blaise stated.

The Slytherins observed as Harry and Blaise joined hands freeing their magical auras and combining their magic. They held their breath at the intense look of concentration on the young men’s faces.

Harry and Blaise placed their joined palms on the first parchment of runes, forcing their magic into the written forms. With precise deft movements, they traced the runes, continuing from one parchment to the next. The runes lit up as they were traced, literally glowing with the magical strength that had been inserted into them. When the last rune had been etched, the pieces of parchment flared a bright blue before disintegrating and transforming into a mass of blue magical energy.

The two assassins gently pressed their joined hands into the middle of the swirling mass of energy and spoke, “Glacialis Flamma.” The blue light burned brightly for a moment before simmering down.

Draco approached them slowly and handed Harry a miniature dagger; Harry accepted the weapon and calmly dragged it across his and Blaise’s joined hands. Their blood fell on the blue swirl of light and was absorbed before the light faded and flashed towards the two Slytherins.

Blaise pulled one of his daggers from his sleeve and carefully healed the wound that had been created, repairing Harry’s flesh as well. With obvious reluctance, he released the smaller hand from his own and returned his dagger to its sheath.

Pansy stepped forward with a cursed mirror Blaise had ordered to test the spell on. She levitated the mirror over to rest on the floor and stood back with the other members of their house to watch the results of the test.

Harry turned to Theo and cocked an eyebrow. “According to the specifications of the task, the spell should have been released so that all wizards and witches can use it. Would you be willing to test it for us?”

The pure-blood smirked slightly at the honor he was being shown and nodded, stepping forward. “What wand movement is necessary?” he queried.

“A sharp flick to the right, and a jab down,” Harry answered.

Theo connected with his magic and concentrated on the instructions he had been given. “Glacialis Flamma,” he stated, copying the wand movement as instructed. A jet of blue flame poured out of his wand and engulfed the mirror, surrounding it in magic. Not a moment later, the flame froze in place and shattered into small shards of ice, melting on the stone floor of the Slytherin common room. Applause swept through the room. 71 Blaise and Harry smiled slightly at each other. “Well done,” they stated.

--

They walked into Ancient Runes with great confidence two days later, pleased that their spell was properly created and efficient. The students settled into their seats and waited for their professor to arrive. She entered the classroom with Sirius Black on her heels and Harry glared at the man briefly before turning away. “As you know, today you will be presenting your spells to the class. All new spells made at Hogwarts are required to be registered with the Ministry. This is Sirius Black, one of the Ministry’s Aurors and today he will be observing and logging your spell-work.”

Harry glared at his table. The disgrace was in his presence yet again. He had no illusions as to why the man was here, regardless of the order from his father, he wouldn’t put it past the man to try and contact him. After all, if it was a school requirement, there was no way he could avoid it. Harry didn’t need to ask Dumbledore to know that the man had invited his so-called godfather today. Black had probably been chosen for the sole purpose of keeping an eye on Harry and hopefully getting him away from the evil Slytherins.

The assassin watched the presentations carefully, ignoring the many glances thrown his way by Black. Most of the spells were horribly boring and mundane in his mind; a spell that allowed people to communicate mentally, and a spell that allowed people to talk with one type of animal were the only useful spells in his opinion.

Blaise and Harry were the last pair to present their spell to the class. “Blaise and I have created a spell that safely destroys inanimate objects from a distance. It will also destroy Dark Arts objects.” He pointed his wand at an empty desk and moved his dagger, speaking clearly. “Glacialis Flamma.” Blaise conjured a new desk and replaced the one that had been destroyed for the demonstration.

“How do you know it will destroy Dark Arts objects?” Sirius asked.

“We were very thorough in our research and testing,” Blaise answered. “This spell is something that the Ministry will be able to use to dispose of dangerous artifacts.”

“Brilliant work, boys,” their professor stated, shooing them back to their seats. Shortly thereafter class ended and they left the room. Harry ignored Black’s curious eyes and continued down the corridor with his companions. They turned the corner and Harry almost crashed into Professor Lupin, barely avoiding the man.

Amber eyes gazed down at him. “I tried to talk the Headmaster out of inviting him to come today,” Lupin stated.

Harry allowed gratitude to show in his eyes. “Thank you for attempting, Professor Lupin. I do appreciate it.” Harry gestured his fellow students to keep moving and waited for the hallway to clear before turning to the werewolf. “I have seen you gazing at me often, say what it is you have been wishing to say, sir.”

The amber eyes were saddened as he looked upon the young man before him. “That night, I wasn’t in Britain, I was away on a mission. I didn’t find out until almost a week later that your parents had died. I truly believed Sirius was responsible for their deaths all of these years.” His voice grew bitter. “I never imagined he was innocent, and when I learned he was, I don’t think I have ever been more angry in my life. He hadn’t been responsible for their deaths, no, but he had clearly abandoned you, and that was equally as wrong in my eyes.

I have wanted to tell you since you first came to Hogwarts, but I was afraid of your reaction.” The eyes hardened. “I will not be a coward anymore. After I got back to Britain, I was informed you had been left with 72 your mother’s Muggle relatives. I knew what you were and went to get you from them; when I arrived, you were already gone. I want you to know that I didn’t look for you because I knew you were safe. I could smell the Assassin Lord and I knew he would take care of you. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, cub. Because I do.”

Harry gazed up at his professor, fighting against the stinging he felt in the back of his eyes. He had wondered, for years he had wondered. His mother had loved him, he knew that, and missed her. While unworthy, his father had been kind to him. But Harry didn’t remember him much. He remembered Sirius’ shocking silver eyes easily, yet the pain of betrayal overshadowed any tender feelings he may have once felt for the man that was his godfather.

Oddly enough, the man before him was clearest in his memory. The feeling of being absolutely safe, knowing that nothing could harm him when the man was near. The distinct musty smell of animal and family. The burning amber eyes that watched over him and scared away all threats. He had missed this, and now he could finally understand why the man hadn’t found him. No matter how much he had been missed, Lupin had wanted to keep him safe and away from the manipulative leader of the light.

“I never forgot you, Moony,” Harry whispered, stepping forward and leaning against the taller man. He smiled slightly as he was encased in the loving warmth he remembered from his childhood. Tears fell into his hair, and he allowed himself to relax, safe with his favorite uncle.

--

With a lightened heart, Harry walked through the corridors of Hogwarts heading down to the evening meal in the Great Hall. He was coming down from the third floor when the Headmaster approached him. “Ah, Mr. Potter, just the person I was looking for.”

“How can I be of help, Headmaster?” Harry asked.

“I have made arrangements for you to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays,” Dumbledore stated. “There will be several Aurors here that will help with your training.”

“That won’t be necessary, Headmaster,” Harry stated.

“Of course it will, my boy.” Dumbledore twinkled at him. “I’m afraid there are some things you are unaware of as yet.”

“If you are referring to the prophecy, then I’m quite aware of it, Headmaster,” Harry drawled.

The blue eyes hardened. “Oh, and how did you come across such privileged information, Mr. Potter?” he queried.

“My father discovered it years ago and brought it to my attention. I assure you that he has sufficient tutors in all areas of magic and training,” Harry said.

“Regardless, my boy, I’m sure that training here over the holiday will be for the best,” Dumbledore spoke confidently.

“I’m afraid that will be quite impossible, Headmaster.” Harry smirked as they descended the last staircase. “My father has demanded I return home over the holidays and I’m ever the dutiful son. Good day, Headmaster,” he said before strolling over to the Slytherin table, pleased to have out-smarted the old coot yet again.

73 “You look pleased with yourself,” Bella stated when Harry settled next to her.

“Oh, I am,” he replied. “The Headmaster had decided it would be in my best interest to remain at Hogwarts over the holiday. It was my duty to set the interfering bastard straight.” The surrounding Slytherins snickered quietly.

“Why did he want you to remain over the holiday?” Millicent asked.

“It seems that I am in dire need of training so that I can someday defeat Lord Voldemort,” Harry drawled. The table fell silent before bursting out in malicious sneers. The old man was an ignoramus.

“You are tied as the top dueler in Defense class,” Theo stated.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Well apparently, it must be all luck and no skill on my part.” Quiet laughter spread down the table.

The Slytherins quieted down and enjoyed their meal as the evening post arrived. The assassin students were all looking in the air, searching for the black eagle owl that had become such a familiar sight since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts. Horus swooped down from the ceiling and dropped a golden envelope before Blaise Zabini to the shock of the assassins. Golden Envelopes were the most rare of all. An invitation to the Courtship Gala of an Ivory Daggered Submissive.

With a slight smile on his face, Blaise reached for the envelope and opened it.

Obsidian Crimson Frost,

You have been found worthy.

You are cordially invited to attend the Courtship Gala for the Ivory Daggered Onyx Snow.

If you seek the hand of the Heir and wish to attend, place a drop of blood on this parchment.

May your daggers guide your decision.

Empty Shadows

Blaise removed one of his Obsidian Daggers and cut the tip of one finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall on the parchment. The words reformed.

Obsidian Crimson Frost,

You have made your choice. The Gala will be held at the Assassin Lord’s Manor. The Courtship will last from December 10th to January 1st. Come prepared if you seek to succeed in your quest for the Heir’s hand. May your daggers show you the truth of your heart.

Empty Shadows.

A coal eyebrow rose. The Gala started the day after the semester ended. Three weeks. He would have three weeks to prove his worth to Harry and the Assassin Lord; he would not fail. The Ivory Daggered Assassin had 74 already stolen his heart, and he would not accept anything less than stealing Harry’s heart as well. They were perfectly suited to each other, now all he had to do was prove that to the young man.

--

The last two weeks of school passed slowly, and yet seemed to rush by. Harry and Neville had continued spending Saturday afternoons together, wandering the castle and talking. Harry was slightly frustrated that he had not been able to find any items belonging to the Founders that may have been turned into a Horcrux, but he knew that he would eventually unearth the missing item.

His mind was in a state of turmoil when he came across Luna Lovegood in a deserted hall one evening. The Ravenclaw reached forward and stroked his long braid calmingly. “Be at peace, Onyx Snow.”

Harry sighed and gazed into the luminous blue eyes. “I cannot fail in my task, my Lady.”

“You will not fail,” Luna replied. “You have never failed before and I’m sure that you will not allow yourself to fail now.”

Harry grimaced at the thought. “I sometimes wish you could see objects and not just people, and then I feel guilty for thinking that way about your special gift.”

The blonde girl smiled sadly. “I have often felt that way myself,” she whispered. “I would be of greater use to your father if I could see a wider array of scenarios and items. My perception will not mature to that level for many years to come.”

“Or until you bond,” he added.

“Or until I bond,” she agreed. “Yet, the one who will claim me has just begun to move on from love lost, and is not ready at this time to accept me. He will be ready soon, but not as of yet.”

“Will you be happy?” Harry asked of the girl who saw so much pain and suffering in her visions.

“Yes, I will be happy,” Luna responded.

“That is all we can ask for,” Harry said.

Luna smiled at the young man before her. “My sight may be limited to twenty-four hours in the future on all subjects not relating to my own life, but I can tell you with utmost certainty that you will be happy as well, Harry.”

Harry smiled slightly. “My thanks, my Lady.” He spoke, “I needed that reassurance just now.”

“Enjoy your holiday, Harry. Focus on your Courtship Gala and choose wisely,” the Ravenclaw recommended.

“I will,” he promised before nodding and leaving the corridor.

--

Severus Snape sat in his quarters twirling his glass of brandy. His Elite Bloodline Gift was rare, and made him the perfect spy. His hearing could be enhanced until he could hear conversations ten miles away. The swirling liquid drew his attention. 75 Luna Lovegood was the Lord’s Seer, and he was obviously meant to overhear that conversation between her and Harry. She was correct. He would gladly be her mate, but he would be unable to accept her until the last of his memories had been battled and defeated. It would be dishonorable to approach her when his heart still belonged in the past.

He downed the alcohol and smiled slightly. One day, he would be happy.

--

The morning of the last day of school was hectic. Students frantically searched for items that had gone missing, packed away gifts they had purchased, and hugged friends. The crowd of young wizards and witches rode the carriages down to the train and boarded it, heading back to London. The trip was light-hearted and boisterous as everyone chatted excitedly about the Christmas Holiday, where they were going, and what they hoped to receive as gifts.

The students exited the train in a rush, finding family and reuniting with their loved ones. Harry crouched down before Bella Zabini and pulled her into a hug. “I will see you in three weeks, little Silver. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” she answered as she clutched him.

The raven-haired man got to his feet and smiled gently at the young girl before Disapparating. The moment he disappeared, she turned to her brother and stated, “You will win his hand.”

Dark eyes clashed. “He will be mine.”

“He better be,” she said.

“He will be,” Blaise responded. “I will win his heart and the right to court him.”

Bella’s assessing eyes took in her brother’s form. “Good,” she stated in satisfaction, before running into her mother’s open arms.

Blaise gazed thoughtfully at the place Harry had been mere minutes before. Yes, he would claim the assassin as his own. He had three weeks to prove his worth. He would not fail.

--

Rule Fourteen: A Dominant must prove themselves to the Submissive they wish to court.

Harry rolled out of bed at 5:30 a.m. as usual and stretched silently, his thoughts were consumed with the events that would be happening over the next three weeks. The Courtship Gala. The holiday that would change his life forever. He would return to Hogwarts in the beginning stages of bonding; his life would never be the same again. He left his room and headed down to breakfast in his satin pajama bottoms, navigating the halls by memory.

He entered the dining room and smiled at his father. “Good morning, father.”

“Good morning, Harry,” he answered. “Are you ready?”

76 Harry sighed. “As ready as I will ever be, father.”

The Assassin Lord lowered his newspaper and gazed at his son. “Of the twenty-nine Obsidian Daggered, twenty-six were sent invitations.”

“Three are already bonded,” Harry said.

“Yes,” his father agreed. “Of the twenty-six that were invited, twenty-one accepted the invitation.”

“Five of them are straight,” Harry stated decisively.

“That was my assumption as well.” The silver eyes locked onto Harry. “Viktor Krum accepted.”

Harry winced in pain. “I will not choose him. I do not love him.”

“I know,” his father responded, “but he is worthy, and it would have been wrong not to invite him.”

“I almost think it is more cruel to invite him knowing he won’t be chosen than to have excluded him from the start,” Harry whispered. “I feel for him as I would feel for a brother.”

“Regardless, I expect you to treat him with respect,” the man spoke.

“Of course I will, father. I may not love him, but I do respect him,” Harry answered.

“Good,” the Lord stated. “Now, tell me what Dumbledore has been doing.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “He attempted to force me to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday for training.” Harry snorted. “He seemed quite annoyed that I already knew of the prophecy and that he won’t be able to lead me around like a puppet.”

“He hasn’t figured out that you and Mr. Zabini are responsible for Miss Weasley’s disappearance?” his father queried.

“No father, he hasn’t. The old fool seems to think that Voldemort had a link with her mind and that he convinced her to leave somehow. He has reached this conclusion by determining that no one broke through the wards,” Harry drawled.

“I take it Dumbledore’s Occlumency shields are easy for you to overcome?” he sneered.

“Quite, father. They may be difficult to penetrate for a regular witch or wizard, but as we know, I’m anything but normal,” Harry stated.

“Indeed. Normal is overrated. I like extraordinary myself,” the Lord said. “And the old man’s health?”

“Is deteriorating faster than predicted, sir,” Harry replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he only lasts five more months. The curse is spreading through his veins and destroying him from the inside out.”

“Lovely.” His father smirked. “How did the spell you were working on turn out?”

Harry grinned at his father. “The spell that was created for class worked brilliantly. I’m sure it will be able to destroy the inanimate Horcruxes once we manage to find them. As for the living ones, I’ve been working on a 77 pet project all year that may actually be helpful in that area as well.”

His father stared at him. “I trust you will let me know when it’s ready.”

“Of course, father. Though I do not intend to set this one free.” Harry smirked.

A black eyebrow rose in glee. “Smart choice, my son. Every assassin should have a secret spell that is unique to them alone.”

“Thank you, father. I do try after all,” Harry replied, before turning his attention to his breakfast. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence as the two men ate their food, thoughts on the many guests that would be arriving shortly before lunch. After finishing his meal, Harry left the room and prepared for the day.

He showered, washing his hair carefully and re-braiding it with precise movements. The young assassin browsed the articles of clothing in his closet, for once indecisive about what to wear. This was such an important occasion and he wanted to make a good impression on his future mate. Harry finally decided on traditional robes, black satin with ivory edging and lining. They looked elegant and proclaimed his identity at the same time. Surely, they would suffice.

At precisely 11:00 a.m., Harry and his father entered the foyer to await the arrival of the intended guests. They would be arriving at five-minute intervals over the next two hours. The first man to appear was a Russian named Mikhail that Harry got along with quite well.

“Harry, it’s so good to see you,” Mikhail spoke, bowing before the Ivory Daggered Assassin and the Assassin Lord.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Mikhail,” he replied.

“I thank you for the invitation. It’s an honor to be here,” Mikhail addressed his Lord.

“Yes, it is an honor,” his father drawled. “I pity those who will forget that fact.”

Mikhail blinked. “I’m not one who would forget.”

“No, Mikhail, I don’t believe you are,” the Lord replied, gesturing to a house-elf to lead the man to his room. “Lunch will be served at 1:30 p.m., the house-elf will show you the way.”

“As you wish it, my Lord, Harry,” Mikhail replied, bowing before the men.

The next three assassins were wizards that Harry had not had a chance to meet before: Kisuke from Japan, Pierre from France, and Renaldo from Spain. As far as first impressions went, he found Kisuke to be very polite, Pierre to be entertaining, and Renaldo to be an arrogant prick. The Spaniard had no right to refer to Harry as belonging to him. People like that would be easy to eliminate.

The tenth wizard to arrive was Viktor Krum. A large smile spread across the Bulgarian’s face as he gazed upon the Ivory Daggered Submissive. “Harry, it’s lovely to be seeing you again.”

“Viktor,” Harry said, “it’s nice to see you as well.” His eyes were full of sadness as they gazed at the other man.

“My Lord, I must thank you for the opportunity to be here,” Viktor stated.

78 “You have earned the right to be here,” his father spoke. “It is good to see you again. The house-elf will show you to your rooms.”

The Bulgarian smiled at them and left to relax and prepare for lunch. His actions were being copied all across the manor as more suitors arrived seeking the hand of the Assassin Lord’s Heir. The notorious Onyx Snow. Also known as Harry Potter.

The last Obsidian Daggered Assassin to arrive was Blaise Zabini. The moment he appeared, he fell to his knees before Harry’s father. “Empty Shadows, it is with greatest respect that I accept the invitation to attend the Courtship Gala for your Heir.”

Silver eyes widened in pleasure. The Zabini Heir had been the only assassin to get the greeting correct. How much research had he done to find the ancient rituals that were rarely in use? The exact words that were engraved for this occasion. The rare event of an Ivory Daggered Submissive also being the Assassin Lord’s Heir. “Crimson Frost,” he began, “it is with greatest pleasure that I welcome you to my Heir’s Courtship Gala.”

Blaise smiled and rose to his feet, bowing before Harry. “Onyx Snow, I wish to express my gratitude for being invited.”

Harry smiled slightly at the beautiful dark man before him. “You have earned the right to be here, Crimson Frost. You are worthy.” His eyes locked with Blaise’s and he slowly fell into their chocolaty depths. “Lunch will be served soon, please rest and refresh yourself. I would be honored if you would sit with me at lunch.”

“The honor is mine, Harry,” Blaise answered before following the house-elf from the foyer.

The Assassin Lord watched his son’s eyes follow the assassin. “You hold fondness for that one,” he spoke.

“Yes father,” Harry agreed. He followed his father through the halls to the dining room, taking in the changes with calculating eyes. The house-elves had clearly pushed themselves to the limit; the table was laden down with succulent and delicious offerings of culinary delight. The various aromas were mouth-watering in their appeal. The large table was set for their many guests and Harry and his father approved of the lunch that had been prepared.

“Very well done, Misty,” Harry’s father addressed their head house-elf. “This looks delicious.”

“I be glad yous is thinking so, Lord Master sir,” Misty squealed.

Harry and the Assassin Lord claimed the chairs in the exact middle of the table, allowing for conversation and interaction with most of the guests. They were speaking quietly when the many Obsidian Daggered wizards appeared in the dining room, each led by their assigned elf. The house-elves efficiently seated everyone and stood off to one side in case they were needed.

Blaise Zabini received many curious looks and jealous glares when he claimed the seat to the right of Harry. It was a much-coveted position to be in.

“Is your room to your liking?” Harry asked him.

”Yes, thank you. It’s very comfortable,” Blaise answered. “Bella wished for me to extend her greetings.”

A fond smile flickered briefly across Harry lips. “I bet she had more than that to say.”

79 Blaise snickered quietly. “She might have.”

Their light repartee was interrupted by the commencement of the meal. Salads, sandwiches, and many other delicacies were passed around the table and placed on plates. “Are you enjoying your stay at Hogwarts?” Kisuke asked.

Harry turned his attention to the man. “I have found many things there that can hold my attention. It’s an interesting environment.”

“Has the old man been bothering you?” Viktor queried.

“Somewhat,” Harry drawled. “However, it is easy to evade him.”

“Are you sure that you should be attending classes there?” one suitor asked him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry countered.

“Well, that business with the girl disappearing from the school and turning up dead. Poor child. The place sounds dangerous and seems to have poor security measures,” the suitor added.

Harry and Blaise tensed in rage as the memories of that day returned to the surface of their minds. “I can assure you,” Harry bit out, “that the school is quite secure. As for the – girl – she deserved what she got.” The hate in his words shocked some of the guests. Many made a mental note not to resurrect the subject again.

“My apologies, I didn’t know it was a sore subject,” the man whispered. Harry ignored his apology and focused on the meal before him, eating the fare the house-elves had made. The meal wound down and the group of wizards followed the Assassin Lord into the main library, seating themselves comfortably.

The cloaked man stepped forward and spoke. “You have all been invited here because my Heir has reached his majority and is seeking his future bonded. Many of you will not have known until today that he is Harry Potter, but you will recognize his assassin name, Onyx Snow.” He watched as heads around the room nodded. “He is the only Ivory Daggered Submissive alive and as such will not accept a Dominant that has a rank lower than Obsidian.” His burning eyes swept the assembled men. “You are those who were invited and accepted the invitation.

The Courtship Gala will be held over the next three weeks. During that length of time, you will have to prove to my son and myself that you are worthy of being his bonded mate. There will be tests, trials, and opportunities in which you will be able to prove yourself. Keep in mind that you will be under observation at all times.” The voice hardened. “Anyone found to be acting in a manner that is unacceptable, will be asked to leave. Anyone who forgoes common courtesy will be asked to leave. Attempting to sabotage the honest efforts of another assassin will result in your dismissal.”

The Assassin Lord smirked. “I do not expect many of you to last the full three weeks. My son will be dismissing you as time goes on. He has no need to explain himself to you, or myself. At any time, he will be able to approach me and inform me of those he wishes to leave his presence. You will have two hours from the time you are notified to leave the premises. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” they all answered.

“Good. Then I will leave you to acquaint yourselves with my son.” He nodded to Harry and swept from the room. 80 --

Harry managed to tolerate Renaldo’s arrogance for two days before the man completely blew his chance. He was the first suitor to be eliminated, quickly followed by the man who had mentioned Ginny Weasley. A few of the wizards were slowly gaining a good impression; Harry was particularly impressed with Blaise, Mikhail, Kisuke, Kai, Geoffrey and Viktor, though he knew he would be unable to choose the last one.

On December 17, Harry summoned Misty to him. “Misty, how are my guests treating the elves?” he asked. He had waited a week to see if anyone would relax and act in a manner unbefitting an assassin.

“There is being a few problems, Master Heir sir,” Misty replied.

Harry’s eyes narrowed in anger. “What are the problems, Misty?”

“Well, there is being a wizard that yells at Twinkly, no matter how hard she is working. Then a wizard be trying to hit Starry this morning,” the upset house-elf continued, “and a wizard be throwing things at Dizzy yesterday.”

“Really?” Harry asked with fiery eyes.

Misty nodded. “And just before Master Heir sir summoned me, a wizard asked me to be giving you this so you will be feeling better. I didn’t know yous was feeling bad. Misty would have helped.”

Harry accepted the small vial and pulled out the stopper, smelling the contents. Rage flooded his face. Amortentia. No honorable assassin would attempt to give another a love potion; they learned from birth that love was a sacred emotion and bonding could only succeed by choice. “I want the names of these wizards, Misty,” Harry growled.

“Of course, Master Heir sir,” she stated.

Harry stormed through the hallways and entered his father’s study. Before the man could utter a greeting he snarled, “I want Charles, Arthur, Henrik and Dominic out of the manor immediately.”

His father left the room to order them to leave, wondering what in the world they had done to anger Harry. He hadn’t seen such a look of blatant hatred on his son’s face since the day Harry had rescued little Bella Zabini from Mulciber.

--

Over the next six days, five more suitors were banished from the property. One had been sent away for attempting to touch his hair; another had tried to kiss his cheek. The third wizard was refused because he had been disrespectful to the other guests. The fourth assassin had a voice that grated on Harry’s nerves, and the fifth man was boring and completely uninteresting in any way.

Thus, the selected individuals dwindled, and only ten were left.

--

81 Rule Fifteen: A Submissive should choose their Dominant wisely.

Christmas Eve was treated as any other day at the Assassin Lord’s Manor, except for the slight distraction of endless owls bringing gifts. Harry gazed at the growing mound of gifts in awe; the pile was larger than any he’d ever had in the past. However, this was the first Christmas where he actually had close friends and not just acquaintances. Each of his Platinums had sent him a gift, as had Bella. Then of course, there were the gifts presented by the remaining suitors.

Harry had already sent his friends their presents, and he was sure that they would like what he had chosen. He sat in the library, surrounded by his guests, stroking Scipio calmly as they talked amongst themselves. “These people smell of lust, Harry.”

“They are competing to be my mate,” Harry stated.

“Ah, the one who will sire your younglings.”

“Yes, Scipio, the sire of my younglings.”

“Do you favor any of them?” the cobra asked curiously.

“A few have gained my favor. They still have to prove themselves before I will choose.”

“A wise decision, speaker, an unworthy mate is useless.”

“Indeed.” Harry’s attention was drawn by the approaching footsteps. He raised his eyes and smiled slightly at the dour assassin. “Severus, it is lovely to see you.”

“Likewise,” Severus drawled. “I must wish you a Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Christmas, Severus. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Harry queried.

“Our mutual acquaintance requested I give you this token of his esteem,” Snape sneered, handing Harry a bracelet delicately crafted in the shape of a snake. “I have checked it for Dark Magic, hostile intentions, and Portkey magic. It is perfectly safe, merely an adornment.”

Harry traced the detailed metalwork with his fingertips, a thoughtful look on his face. “Scipio, I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?”

“Yes, I wish you to go with this man; he will give you to another speaker. That speaker has a snake named Nagini. I need you to follow Nagini’s movements and keep track of her until I come for you. Are you willing to do that for me?”

“I am. This will relieve the monotony of my existence.”

“My thanks, Scipio.”

Harry lifted the black King Cobra and stood up, draping it carefully around Severus’ shoulders. “If you would be so kind as to deliver Scipio to our mutual acquaintance I would be most grateful,” Harry drawled. “I can 82 guarantee that you will remain unharmed while transporting him.”

“As you wish it, Harry.” Snape smirked, leaving the room with the lovely cobra.

--

Harry and his father stood in a large training room awaiting the arrival of the remaining suitors. When the men arrived, the Lord addressed them, “Today you will be competing in one of two events. These events will be used to judge your skills, craftiness, strength, and ability to protect my son from harm.” He brandished a group of sticks. “Each of these sticks has a number one or a number two carved into them. Five of you will compete in each event. Come forward and choose a stick,” the Lord drawled, patiently watching the ten assassins choose.

“Who drew the number one?” Harry asked. He turned to the five men who stepped forward and spoke to them, “Pierre, Josef, Alessandro, Blaise and Geoffrey, you will be participating in a Melee Battle. This will be a Muggle-style fight. You will only be allowed to use your own bodies, no weapons or magic will be allowed.” The five men nodded and waited for Harry and the others to step off to the side of the room. “You may begin!” Harry called.

Josef and Geoffrey instantly dove towards Blaise, seeking to punish the young man who was allowed to sit next to Harry so often. They would prove to the Ivory that Blaise was an inferior fighter. Josef kicked a foot out at Blaise’s knee, barely missing him as the young man bent his legs to avoid the hit. Blaise swung around, tripping Geoffrey as he punched Josef in the kidneys; the cry of pain made him smirk. Geoffrey rolled to his feet and swept his leg along the back of Blaise’s, knocking the darkly glowering Slytherin to the floor.

Josef gasped in a sharp breath and leapt towards Blaise, intending to pound the young man into the floor until he bled. Blaise twitched sharply to the left and snickered when Josef over-balanced and crashed into Geoffrey, banging their heads together and knocking both men unconscious.

He calmly gained his feet, senses aware and prepared for a new attack, turning just in time to see Alessandro flatten Pierre. The two assassins gazed at each other assessing the opponent before them. They stalked in a circle, observing and registering information at a miraculous rate. At an unspoken signal, the two assassins rushed forward and wrapped their hands around each other’s throats. Dark eyes locked, and the two men nodded to each other, acknowledging each other’s skills. They released the flesh they held and bowed to each other before turning and bowing to Harry.

“Well done,” Harry said with a grin. “Alessandro and Blaise tie in the Melee Battle.” He waited for the fallen men to be ‘Enervated’ and healed before continuing. “Mikhail, Kyril, Viktor, Kai, and Kisuke, if you five will follow me please.” Harry stepped from the training room with his father at his side and led the way from the manor, out into the sunny, yet cold, afternoon.

A decidedly evil smirk appeared on Harry’s face as he explained the task. “You five will be competing on broomsticks in a game I have decided to call, ‘Mid-Air Jousting.’ He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at the slight bewilderment that showed on the men’s faces. “Each of you will be provided with a Firebolt and a Quidditch Beater Bat, you will then attempt to knock each other from your brooms. To ensure that no one dies, an invisible barrier that will catch falling players and carry them to the ground has been erected. The last person stan – er – flying wins.”

The five Obsidian Daggered wizards walked over to the brooms and mounted them, accepting the offered bats, and shot up into the air. Kisuke flew right behind Kyril and slammed his bat into the broom, shattering it into small pieces and making the other assassin fall. Those watching snickered that the man had lasted less than a minute in the air. 83 Kai and Mikhail were twisting through the air, rolling around each other, and using their bats like swords, parrying and countering each approaching strike. Viktor suddenly appeared behind Mikhail, hitting the man in the back and making him crash into Kai. The two wizards lost control of their brooms and fell from the sky onto the safety net that gently placed them on the ground.

The assassins watching were awed by the battle that was occurring between Viktor and Kisuke. The two men were diving, dropping, rising, rolling, twisting, and flipping around each other in an artistic way that was beautiful to see. They were artists on the brooms, countering, bashing, rolling, crashing, flipping, and clashing. They flew straight at each other with an intense look of concentration on their faces. The bats met and locked together, holding the two assassins in place as their brooms began descending rapidly towards the barrier. Moments before they would have hit, Viktor performed a backwards barrel roll, freeing himself and knocking Kisuke into the barrier.

The Bulgarian drifted down to the ground and smiled happily at Harry who nodded in approval. “Viktor wins the Mid-Air Jousting Battle,” he drawled, leading them back inside the warm manor.

--

The next five days were a flurry of activity, as Harry got to know the remaining suitors, and judged them.

Harry was seated with Mikhail in the library, playing a game of chess. “How has your stay been?” Harry asked, changing the position of one of his bishops.

“I have been enjoying myself,” the Russian replied. “Your house-elves are marvelous. The food is wonderful and my room is always spotless.”

“Some people consider them to be slaves,” Harry stated, countering the move of Mikhail’s rook.

“Some people are ignorant,” Mikhail stated. “House-elves provide a useful service of their own free will. They should be respected and thanked for their diligence, not punished for imagined slights.”

“I agree,” Harry answered. A wizard who respected other magical races and their cultures was important to Harry; Mikhail had just proven himself in yet another way.

--

Geoffrey and Harry were settled in one of the parlors, enjoying afternoon tea. “May I see your Animagus form?” Harry asked politely.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure to show you,” the American answered. He rose from his seat and focused his magic inwards, forcing the transformation. In place of the man stood a large tawny lion, massive in its strength. The golden predator padded across the room and gazed up at Harry, being careful not to touch him.

“Impressive,” Harry drawled, leaning back in his seat.

The lion reformed and once again became a wizard. “Thank you.” He smiled. “I was very pleased with my form. Imagine if I had turned into something embarrassing, an animal that is prey,” he said and shuddered.

Harry frowned. “There are a great many people in the world that do not have an Animagus form; there are others who possess one and never manage to complete the transformation. Regardless of what animal someone 84 becomes, I find that success is something to be rewarded, not mocked.”

Geoffrey sat in silent shock, positive he had ruined his chance to win the Submissive’s hand.

--

Pierre smiled happily and led Harry outside. “While work is very important,” the Frenchman stated, “it’s also important to enjoy life and relax.”

Harry gazed up at the larger man. “That is quite true,” he agreed.

The two assassins walked through the snow bundled up warmly in their winter jackets. The crash of snow against his coat made Harry blink in shock, before a wicked smirk crept across his face. He dove to the ground and rolled through the snow, packing snowballs and throwing them at his adversary.

Pierre retaliated in kind and the two assassins worked their arms to the limit in an attempt to defeat their opponent. The miniature blizzard they were making was cold and delightful at the same time. Harry was pleased that Pierre wasn’t intentionally losing to him. He was a man secure in his own boots.

The snowball-fight gradually wound down, and the two smiling wizards laughed as they sat in the snow. “Interested in making a snowman?” Pierre asked.

Harry excitedly got to his feet and began working on his snowman. He hadn’t made one in years. They worked together and created a masterpiece, grinning at the eight-foot snowman in front of them. “Would you care to join me for a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry queried.

“It would be my pleasure,” Pierre responded.

--

Harry was walking through the manor halls when Viktor came up alongside him. “Something on your mind, Harry?” Viktor asked.

“Indeed. A great many things are on my mind,” Harry replied.

“Is there anything I can help you vith?” the Bulgarian queried.

“I’m afraid not, my friend,” Harry responded. “This is something I have to work out by myself.”

They walked in companionable silence for several minutes. “You mean a great deal to me, Viktor.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You have always been good company, you are unfailingly polite, and I enjoy conversing with you,” Harry stated.

“But?” Viktor asked.

“But,” Harry quietly continued, “I do not love you. Not in a romantic way. I tried, I really did try, but my heart is convinced that you are my elder brother, and nothing seems to change that.”

85 The Bulgarian smiled sadly down at the young man. “I thought that vould be the case,” Viktor spoke. “Yet, I had to try.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, fighting the tears in his eyes.

“There is no need to be sorry, Harry. You must follow your heart. Maybe now, mine will be free.” Viktor bowed and left the teary-eyed assassin alone in the hallway.

--

Kai joined Harry in the library late one evening, carrying a large dusty book. “May I join you?” the Chinese gentleman asked.

“Of course,” Harry responded, “your company would be most welcome this evening.”

Kai nodded and settled into an armchair close to the fireplace. “I have seen you in here reading in the evening; I was hoping you might enjoy this,” he stated handing Harry the book.

Harry accepted the dusty text and blinked in shock as he read the title. “This is a first edition copy of the Grimm Fairytales,” Harry stated in utter shock.

“Indeed, it is. I noticed that the books you were reading were fiction, and I thought you might enjoy these,” Kai spoke.

Harry glanced up at him. “I cannot believe you even own a copy of this, let alone that you are allowing me to hold it.” He caressed the cover lovingly.

“It has been in my family for generations,” Kai said. “In our line of work, we read a great deal of non-fiction, I thought these tales might amuse you.”

A genuine smile grew across Harry’s face. “My thanks. Would you read one of them to me?” he asked.

Kai accepted the tome back with a smile. “It would be my pleasure, Harry,” he stated and began his tale.

--

Alessandro walked nervously up to Harry and bowed at the waist. “I mean this with the greatest respect, when I ask to withdraw from the Gala,” he stated.

Harry smiled slightly down at the Italian. “You noticed as well?” Harry asked.

“Indeed,” he responded. “There is no romantic spark between us at all. You are an interesting person, but not an object of love or desire.”

“I’m not offended,” Harry replied. “I feel the same way. Go with peace. May your daggers stay sharp.”

“May your daggers guide your heart,” Alessandro answered.

--

Kisuke walked through the falling snow to reach Harry’s still form. “What has your mind so occupied, Harry?” 86 “The forest is calling to me,” he responded. “I want to shift and leap through the snow, run free.”

“Then do so,” Kisuke said.

“But,” Harry sighed, gazing at the manor.

Kisuke gazed down at the smaller man. “Harry, none of us will begrudge you free time. If you want to run, then do so. It is your life, do not let others constrain you.”

Harry gazed up at the Japanese man in silent contemplation. “Would you care to join me?”

“I would be honored,” he replied. Both of the assassins focused their magic inwards and transformed into their Animagus selves. Harry was an ocelot, with black fur and dark green rosettes; Kisuke became a large black panther.

The two cats carefully sniffed each other before leaping through the snow into the forest. They jumped into the trees and soared from branch to branch, stretching their limbs and running free. Fallen logs were jumped over, snow was licked, and wet twigs were batted about. It was hours before they returned to the world of humans.

--

Harry was settled in the red drawing room when Josef appeared. The German smiled brightly at Harry and took a seat. “Hiding away from us?” he queried.

Harry nodded slightly. “Just seeking a few moments of peace.”

“I can leave if you would like,” Josef offered.

“There is no need. You’re already here,” Harry replied.

“I find it amazing that you’re a Parselmouth. That is a very unique and treasured ability,” Josef stated.

“Indeed. So I have been told,” Harry agreed.

The German gazed at Harry thoughtfully. “The man you gave the cobra to, what was his name?”

“Severus Snape,” Harry helpfully supplied.

“I do not recognize the name,” Josef muttered.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “You would probably recognize him as Darkest Nightmare.”

Josef blinked, and his nostrils flared. “Yes, that name I know. Are you an acquaintance of his then?”

“No, nothing as mundane as acquaintances. Severus and I are closer than that,” Harry drawled in amusement.

“I see. And this ‘mutual’ person you know…”

“Is of no consequence,” Harry spoke, annoyed now with the wizard’s probing questions. It was easy to conclude that the assassin before him was the type that became jealous easily and without good reason. That was 87 definitely a characteristic he was not looking for in his mate.

--

Harry turned the corner, heading to his father’s study when he happened to see Kyril. His hearing barely picked up the words, “Now all I need to do is find the Submissive.” Harry watched with horrified eyes as the Greek downed a vial of Felix Felicis; he turned around and fled as silently as possible. The Ivory Daggered Assassin entered his room and erected every ward he could think of, sealing them with his blood.

“Misty!” he called.

A faint ‘pop’ was heard and the house-elf appeared. “What can Misty be doing for, Master Heir sir?” she asked.

“Go to my father’s study and tell him to remove Kyril from the manor immediately,” Harry frantically stated.

“Yes, sir, Master Heir sir, Misty be doing that.” She vanished.

Harry sat on his bed in shock. Liquid Luck. So many horrible possibilities of what could have happened sped through his mind – if he hadn’t seen the man drink it – Harry shuddered, and only relaxed when he felt Kyril’s magical signature leave his home.

--

After breakfast had ended on December 28, Blaise calmly turned to Harry and asked, “I was wondering if you would like to go ice-skating this morning?”

Harry nodded to the assassin prodigy. “Indeed, I love ice-skating, give me a few minutes to get my skates and dress warmly,” Harry replied.

“Of course, I will wait for you in the foyer,” Blaise said. The Zabini Heir quickly returned to his room and donned his coat and scarf, holding his gloves in one hand and his skates in the other. He entered the foyer and was soon joined by Harry.

The two assassins headed down to the frozen pond near the edge of the forest. “I hope you have been enjoying yourself,” Harry spoke.

“I have,” Blaise answered. “You have a lovely manor and the scenery here is beautiful. I have also found the company to be quite enjoyable.”

“I’m pleased,” Harry whispered as they pulled on their skates. The two assassins stepped onto the pond, pushing forward and sliding across the frozen ice. Harry smiled peacefully as the wind swept across his face. “I love being outdoors; nature is peaceful, and free.”

“I agree,” Blaise spoke up. “There is no confinement out here, everything is just…”

“Alive,” Harry breathed.

Blaise gazed at the sparkling emerald eyes. “Yes, alive.”

As they reached the middle of the lake, Harry came across a particularly slippery patch and wobbled in place reaching out for Blaise to steady himself. However, his skates slid in the opposite direction, overbalancing him, 88 and making him pull Blaise down with him. He landed atop Blaise with a quiet grunt. Harry gazed down into chocolate eyes in shock and fought the blush that spread across his face as he rolled to the side. “My apologies, I made you fall, and then landed on you,” Harry mumbled.

Blaise blinked in pleasure, Harry had felt so right in his arms. “It is I who should apologize, I meant no offense by touching you,” he earnestly stated.

Harry grinned over at his fellow Slytherin. “It was my fault, I’m the one who latched onto you; there is no need to apologize for breaking my fall.”

Blaise snickered. “Very well then, I think we have apologized enough for now.”

Harry nodded his agreement and struggled to his feet, assisting Blaise to his feet as well. The Slytherins smiled sheepishly at each other as they set off once again.

--

On December 30, Harry was in the library with the five assassins who were left in the running: Mikhail, Kai, Pierre, Kisuke, and Blaise. He stood before his assembled guests and addressed them. “I want to thank you for taking the time to come here for my Courtship Gala, I have enjoyed your company over the past few weeks.” His voice echoed in the silent room. “You five have proven yourselves great wizards, great men, and great assassins. I have been treated with courtesy and respect by each one of you, and I thank you for that.” He watched them nod. “However, I must make a choice, and to reach that end, I have devised a test that will no doubt eliminate a few of you.”

“I’m very much in tune with my Animagus form,” Harry began, “and my chosen mate will have to have an Animagus form that mine can accept. For this purpose, I will require the five of you to shift one at a time. I will stay in human form, but allow my Animagus to have control of my thoughts, allowing him to eliminate those who are not compatible with us.”

Kisuke stepped forward and once again became the large panther. Harry’s ocelot purred and rubbed against his insides. “You pass,” Harry rumbled, gesturing the now grinning wizard back to his seat.

Pierre stood before Harry and suddenly became a golden mountain lion. Harry once again felt his beast’s approval and beckoned the next man forward.

Mikhail shifted into a snow-white wolf, it’s piercing blue eyes bore into Harry. The ocelot raged and clawed in his body, seeking a way out to fight the canine. “My apologies,” Harry whispered to the Russian. Mikhail smiled softly at him and bowed once, leaving the room.

Blaise strode forward and disappeared, reforming into a jaguar with black fur and deep brown rosettes. Harry purred in pleasure at the beautiful sight and his ocelot happily agreed with his assessment. The Slytherin gladly resumed his normal form and settled on the couch.

Kai rose from his armchair with a sad smile on his face; he knew this would eliminate him. With a resigned air, the assassin became a dark fox, which was immediately rejected by Harry’s ocelot. The fox lowered his muzzle to the floor in a bow and quietly left the room.

Harry pushed his ocelot deeper into his mind and focused on the present once again. “Tomorrow will be the last test, please meet me back here after lunch.”

89 “As you wish,” the three suitors replied, sizing each other up.

--

The next afternoon Harry walked into the library behind his father. “I’m pleased with you three,” the Assassin Lord stated. “You are fine examples of our people. You have conducted yourselves honorably, and regardless of who is chosen, I will be satisfied.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” they responded.

“My son is going to free his magic.” He spoke, “You will approach one at a time and test your magical compatibility; Harry will make the final choice.”

Harry stood off to the side and released his hold on his magic, allowing it to flow free and surge around him in a visible aura. Blaise walked toward him at a gesture from the Assassin Lord and freed his magic as well, rejoicing in the delicious feel of their magic entwining once again. Blaise closed his eyes in pleasure and sighed softly. He wanted this feeling for the rest of his life. Safety. Love. Home.

Blaise stepped to his left, reining his magic back in and sealing it away for the moment. He watched as Pierre approached Harry and unleashed his own magic. What happened next was so inexplicable and so quickly over that Blaise stood for a moment in shock. Before Pierre could reach Harry, Harry had shifted to the side and slid himself behind Blaise, burying his face in Blaise’s back. It took a few moments for the reality of the situation to dawn on Blaise. Harry hadn’t wanted Pierre’s magic to touch him, so he had hidden behind Blaise. He had gone to Blaise for protection – Harry had chosen him. His heart swelled with joy when he heard the Assassin Lord speak.

“It seems my son has made his decision.” He turned to the two remaining wizards. “I thank you for attending.”

“The pleasure was ours, my Lord,” they responded mechanically as they left the room.

Blaise sank to his knees gracefully and bowed his head before the Assassin Lord. His words echoed in the room, “I, Blaise Zabini, petition for the right to court your Proprius Unus.”

The Assassin Lord gazed down at the prodigy. “What are you intentions towards my Proprius Unus?”

“I seek his hand in a lifelong bond of love, fidelity, and commitment,” Blaise replied.

“What is your rank?”

“I have earned the right to wield Obsidian Daggers,” Blaise replied, lovingly handing one of his precious daggers to the man before him.

The Assassin Lord inspected the dagger carefully. It was in pristine condition; it looked exactly as it had when he had made them for the young man those few years ago. He caressed the dagger and spoke, “Your daggers show you are worthy.” He handed the Obsidian Dagger back to the man, who accepted it and slid in into its sheath.

“What is your name?”

Blaise kept his eyes on the floor as he answered, “The Obsidian Daggered Darkest Nightmare, named me Crimson Frost: Bloody And Cold.” 90 The Assassin Lord smirked. This young man was one of his most treasured assassins. He worked hard, never complained, and never failed. “Your name shows you are worthy.” He watched as the assassin’s muscles relaxed slightly at his words.

“What is your lineage?”

Blaise slowly turned in place, removing his robe and shirt and revealing his birthmark to the Assassin Lord.

The Lord gazed at the circle of runes intently. He was a descendant of the Zabini line. “Your lineage shows you are worthy,” he stated, watching as all of the residual tension left the man’s muscles. Blaise turned around to face his Lord and raised his eyes until their gazes met. “Obsidian Daggered Crimson Frost, I grant you the right to court my Proprius Unus.”

“Thank you for the opportunity. I will not waste it,” he stated. The Assassin Lord reached down and offered the Zabini Heir his hand, pulling him gracefully to his feet. The moment their bare palms touched, Blaise’s Bloodline Gift activated, informing him of his Lord’s strengths and weaknesses. However, that wasn’t the information that held his attention. No, what truly shocked the Slytherin was that he now knew the Assassin Lord’s true name.

Harry’s father reached up and removed his cloak, revealing himself to the young man that would be his son-in- law. “Who am I?” he asked.

Blaise’s breath caught in his throat as he whispered the answer, “Regulus Black.”

--

Rule Sixteen: Assassins should never forget the past.

Harry appeared on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with a smile in his heart. The Courtship Gala had been interesting, with a great many surprises. However, he was very pleased with the result. Blaise would most certainly make a good mate in the future. He stood off to the side, observing as parents hugged their children and told them to keep safe and follow the rules. He waited patiently for Blaise and Bella to appear, and couldn’t keep the grin off his face when they did.

Bella raced over to Harry and grinned. “I knew he would win your hand.”

“You did, did you?” Harry smirked.

“Yes, he was the only one worthy of you,” she replied.

“You are right on that account,” Harry stated. “He was definitely the most worthy of all the suitors.

“Now you will be a part of my official family,” Bella said.

Harry smiled softly down at the girl. “Not yet, Bella. Not until we bond.”

“I know,” she chirped, “I’m sure that won’t be too far off. You and Blaise have always fit together well.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Blaise drawled as he strolled over and pulled Harry into a light hug. “How are you?” 91 “I’m well,” Harry whispered. “The rest of my visit with my father was brilliant. It was good to see him again.”

The train whistle sounded and Blaise led his future mate and little sister onto the Hogwarts Express. “Come, we should find a compartment before they’re all taken.”

“I’m quite sure that Draco and Neville will have saved us seats in their compartment.” Harry smirked. “There are not many people whose company we enjoy.” The three Slytherins nodded thoughtfully as they walked the length of the train, searching for Neville and Draco. “Ah, here it is,” Harry stated. They entered the compartment and settled down across from the other couple.

Draco Malfoy smirked at Blaise as he draped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and tugged the smaller man closer to him. “I take it you won the right to court him then?” the blond queried.

“Was there really any doubt?” Blaise returned.

“No, you always work hard for what you truly want and I could tell you wanted Harry,” Draco answered. “I bet you will enjoy not having to attend the General Courtship Gala over the summer.”

“As will you,” Blaise replied.

“Indeed,” Draco said, “If I have one more mother or father attempt to push their Submissive daughter or son on me, I may have to contemplate suicide.”

“That would be unacceptable,” Neville stated. “I can’t be courted by a dead man.”

“Very true, love, very true.” The blond nodded, hugging Neville to himself.

Neville turned his honey-colored eyes on Harry and smiled. “So, oh great Ivory Daggered Submissive, regale us with the tale of your Gala.”

Harry burst into uncharacteristic laughter at the phrase and began his tale. “There were twenty-one Obsidians who attended. Blaise won my hand.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “That tells us next to nothing! At least tell us whom you disliked the most,” he drawled.

Harry rested his head against Blaise’s shoulder as a thoughtful look spread across his face. Who had he hated? Who had he wanted to flay alive and dip in lye? The answer came and Harry’s features hardened. “I will not give out his name, but I caught one of the assassins drinking Felix Felicis.”

“That filthy bastard!” The four elder Slytherins blinked in shock at Bella’s words. “How dare he try and take Harry away from my brother?” Snickers erupted throughout the compartment at her words.

“She is correct,” Blaise drawled. “How dare that filthy bastard try to take what is mine.” Laughter echoed down the train and the mood was once again light and relaxed. A few hours later, the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station and the five students clambered into a carriage, talking quietly of their holiday as they rode up to the castle.

They entered the Great Hall and parted from Neville, heading over to the Slytherin table. Dumbledore’s ‘Welcome Back’ speech was ignored as the students continued to quietly discuss their holiday. When the interfering old coot finally shut up, they piled their plates high with the delicious food the house-elves had made 92 for them.

Theo’s observant eyes instantly noticed the difference in seating arrangements. Harry and Blaise were now seated next to each other. Interesting. “Did you have a good holiday?” he asked the pair.

“Indeed, we did.” Blaise smirked, gazed down at Harry, and said, “A very good holiday.”

Theo smiled slightly; the next generation of assassins would be just as powerful and worthy as the current generation if the couples he was beginning to see were anything to judge by. Even if they could tell him nothing, even if they did not consider him to be a true friend, he was honored to simply know them.

Dumbledore swept down from the platform the High Table resided on and stopped behind Harry. “Mr. Potter, I need to speak with you in my office,” he said, subtly glaring at the arm Blaise had around Harry’s waist.

“Of course, Headmaster,” Harry responded, rising to his feet. The duo traveled silently through the corridors, heading for the Headmaster’s Office yet again. They settled themselves in seats when they had arrived and Harry gazed at the old man innocently.

“Mr. Potter, I understand that we aren’t the closest of people, but I really do care about you,” the Headmaster stated. “I was concerned when I saw you return with Mr. Zabini. Is everything okay, Harry? He isn’t pressuring you into anything is he?” Dumbledore questioned.

Harry smiled innocently at the old coot and replied, “No, Blaise isn’t pressuring me into anything.”

“I see,” the blue-eyed man stated, barely containing his annoyance. “May I ask what Mr. Zabini is to you, Harry?”

“You just did, Headmaster,” Harry replied, “But I do not mind answering. Blaise is my fiancé.”

“Pardon?” Dumbledore choked on the lemon drop he had been devouring.

“I said that Blaise is my fiancé,” Harry repeated.

Dumbledore blinked in shock as he gazed upon the savior of the wizarding world. “I do not believe that an association with Mr. Zabini is the best choice, Harry. I’m unsure as to where his allegiances lie, and I do not want to see you harmed, my boy.”

Harry fought to keep the rage from showing on his face. How dare the man insinuate that his future bonded would harm him? “Blaise does not support Voldemort. He will not harm me,” Harry decisively stated.

“He could be fooling you,” Dumbledore began. “You have only known him for about four months, I do not believe that is enough time to correctly assess his character.”

Harry’s eyes became emotionless as he responded, “Headmaster, I have spent the last four months in his constant presence. During that time, he has not once attempted to harm me, though he has had ample opportunity to attempt just that.” His eyes cut into Dumbledore. “I have also only known you for four months, Headmaster. I have spent a great deal less time with you. I believe it is you, whom I do not properly know.”

Dumbledore stared at Harry in shock, completely pole-axed by the answer he had received. “How can you say that, dear boy? Everything that has been done, has been for you.”

93 “Really?” Harry drawled. “I find that most interesting, Headmaster. Leaving me with Muggles instead of a wizarding family was for my benefit?”

“Of course,” the old man instantly replied. “They were your mother’s relatives, members of your family.”

“I see,” Harry stated. “So the fact that they intended to send me to an orphanage was for my benefit.”

Once again, the venerable wizard sat in shock. “They would never have given you away, my dear boy.”

Harry’s voice didn’t change as he responded. “My father read the Muggle’s mind when he came to get me. The man, my uncle, had planned to give me away. They didn’t even know I was their nephew.”

“B-but, I left a letter,” Dumbledore spluttered.

“There was no letter with me when I was found,” Harry stated. “Assuming you actually wrote this letter, why would you leave a baby on a doorstep with a letter? Why not simply knock and explain the situation?”

For the first time ever, Dumbledore had no idea what to say. How could he possibly answer that question in a way that wouldn’t show him in a bad light? “The Slytherins seem to be turning your mind against me, Harry. Everything I do is for the greater good.”

“The greater good,” Harry repeated in a monotone voice.

“Yes. I had hoped that you would understand. That you would comprehend your importance and the necessity of your training, but it seems like others have been feeding you lies and false ideas. Why did it have to turn out this way?” the Headmaster quietly whispered.

Harry stared at the man in shock. The man was clearly insane if he believed that abandoning a child was for the greater good. Assassins fought every day for the good of the world, and deserting a child was not something that could in any way better the world. Albus Dumbledore disgusted him. The twisted sense of right and wrong. The warped logic. A man who performed cruel acts thinking it was for the best.

Harry quickly jerked forward in his seat as he felt a magical signature slip into the room behind him. He turned to face the unknown threat and felt the needle sink into his neck. He glanced at the Headmaster in shock. “Remember Harry, this is all for the greater good,” Dumbledore stated, as Harry’s world faded to black.

--

The Grim crept out of the shadows as the gargoyle moved once again and Dumbledore walked down with Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror was carrying what looked to be a body. The curious dog followed the small procession out of Hogwarts and across the grounds, wondering what was happening. “Are you sure about this, Albus?” Shacklebolt’s voice drifted to reach his sensitive ears.

“Yes,” the Headmaster replied. “Harry must be shown our ways; the Slytherins are lying to him and leading him astray. This is all for the greater good, Kingsley. Everything will work out in the end.”

The dog’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what the old man was saying, before he could react, Kingsley and Dumbledore had Disapparated with his godson. Sirius crouched on the ground, barely able to believe what he had just seen and heard, but unable to deny the truth of the events. Dumbledore had stolen Harry. The Grim shifted back into Sirius Black; he ignored the fluttering in his stomach, and Disapparated to the Assassin Lord’s Manor. 94 He reappeared in a meeting hall, and quickly sank to his knees, hopefully and fearfully awaiting the Assassin Lord’s arrival. Merlin, please, let him grant me an audience, Sirius thought to himself. The minutes slowly droned by, and still he waited, refusing to leave. He knelt in silence for an hour, thoughts swirling through his mind, before the Assassin Lord appeared. He kept quiet as the edge of a black cloak crept into his line of vision.

“Sirius Black,” Regulus whispered, gazing down at the bent head of his elder brother.

“My Lord,” Sirius responded.

“You are either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid appearing before me,” Regulus drawled.

“Yes, my Lord,” Sirius agreed.

“You broke the very first rule assassins are taught,” Regulus said.

“I did. ‘Assassins take care of their own.’ The original rule, I broke it,” Sirius stated.

“Do you know why that rule is so important, Sirius?” Regulus asked his brother.

“Because children are sacred treasures,” Sirius instantly responded.

“Correct,” Regulus hissed. “Salazar Slytherin was an amazing assassin, as were the other Founders. He treasured his family more than anything else,” Regulus began. “Few people know this, but Salazar had a younger sister, she meant the world to him. She died in childbirth; the complications were too great for the Healers to overcome. Her husband killed himself when he learned of his wife’s death, abandoning the child to Salazar’s care. The infant was a girl, and Salazar named her after his sister, loving the child as his own.”

Regulus’ voice grew bitter. “One afternoon, Salazar left for a mission that required an assassin with his unique talents. He left a Silver in charge of his niece’s care. The woman got distracted when someone she fancied came for a visit and she lost sight of the child, not thinking of the girl for several hours.” The silver eyes hardened. “Salazar returned, and his niece was nowhere in sight. He searched the local village, and found a stake. A Muggle had witnessed the child performing accidental magic and had called her a witch; she was killed.”

Sirius’ breath caught in his throat at the explanation. “Salazar couldn’t handle the loss of his niece, she was the only thing he had left of his beloved sister. His rage and hatred grew. He hated Muggles, and everything that they stood for. It was this prejudice that finally forced the other Founders to remove him from Hogwarts. Slytherin really did hate Muggles, but he had every reason too.”

“Why did you leave him that night?” Regulus couldn’t stop himself from asking the question.

“Hagrid was supposed to take him to Dumbledore. I thought at the time that he would be safe, and I intended to return for him in a few hours,” Sirius answered.

Bitter laughter erupted from the Assassin Lord’s mouth. “Do you know what happened to the last assassin child left in Dumbledore’s care?” The puzzled look on Sirius’ face answered the question for him. “No, of course you don’t. Let me tell you, Sirius Black, of the Great Albus Dumbledore.”

“A little over half a century ago, there was an assassin named Merope Gaunt. She was the last child of the Slytherin Line and she fell in love with a Muggle. She married the man, hiding her true nature from him, though he eventually found out and left her. The woman died in childbirth, leaving behind a son, Tom Marvolo Riddle. 95 However, she had wed in secret and none of the other assassins knew of this, so her child was also unknown and unclaimed.”

Regulus emotionlessly stared at the far wall as he continued, “Dumbledore knew of the child, but not of what he was. He knew the boy possessed great power, and he wanted to mold and shape that power. Dumbledore let the child grow up in a Muggle orphanage where he was abused. He was sure that the child would see him as a savior, and allow him to form and mold the power that dwelled within the boy, trusting the man implicitly.

Tom Riddle was a private individual. He was powerful and respected, but had no true friends. It was by pure chance that another student saw his birthmark and reported it to the previous Assassin Lord.” Regulus glanced down and said, “He was unsure of what path to take. He wanted to bring the child into our fold, but the young man had too much hatred, too much pain. It was determined that he would be unable to accept our precepts, and that he would be a danger to everyone, so he was never told of what he was, and other assassins were ordered to keep an eye on him.” A bitter sneer appeared on his face. “Tom Marvolo Riddle became Lord Voldemort, courtesy of the loving tender care of Albus Dumbledore.”

Sirius stared at the Assassin Lord in shock. Dumbledore had created Voldemort, and now he was trying to use Harry to rectify his past mistakes. How reprehensible. He felt the gaze of his Lord boring into him and almost missed the quietly whispered question. “What mission did you refuse, and why did you refuse it? Why did you turn your back on your heritage?”

Sirius gazed at the tiled floor as he answered a question he had been asked before, but never answered. “My little brother, was named Regulus,” Sirius began. “He meant more to me than anything in the world. When he was a fifth-year at Hogwarts, he fell in love with a half-blood. Someone of non-assassin heritage,” Sirius whispered. “Regulus was a prodigy, his skills were legendary and he made Obsidian Rank at the age of fourteen. I was positive he would be the next Assassin Lord.” He swallowed roughly. “The Assassin Lord at the time ordered me to kill the person he had fallen in love with, even though Regulus would never act on those feelings. Even though Regulus would uphold the letter of the law; I was to kill his love.” Tears appeared in Sirius’ eyes. “I couldn’t do it. I knew my brother; he was the type of person that only loves once. Killing his love would not allow him to heal and find another more-suitable choice. So I refused. I would rather have my brother be angry at me, than suffer the emotional pain of losing his beloved.”

Regulus stared at his brother’s ebony locks as the explanation sounded repeatedly in his mind. For him. His brother had refused a mission for him, even though the one who was hurt the most by that choice was Sirius himself. “Siri,” He whispered.

Sirius’ head snapped up at the whispered word. He watched with baited breath as the Assassin Lord removed his cloak, standing before him without any barriers. “Regulus,” he croaked. “You’re alive!” He rose to his feet and pulled his little brother into his arms, losing the battle against his tears.

“Siri,” Regulus answered, clutching his elder brother tightly.

“How?” Sirius managed to ask through the tears.

“When a new Assassin Lord ascends, they receive the Thestral Bone Daggers,” Regulus stated. “The moment the new Lord touches them, all memories pertaining to his or her past as an assassin are sealed. They remain that way unless I choose to let someone see through the enchantments.”

“You were working as a spy against Voldemort,” Sirius whispered in realization.

“Indeed. I was,” Regulus said. “I had to stage my own death when I became the Assassin Lord.” He smiled 96 slightly at his brother. “Now tell me, what has brought you to me today?”

Finally, Sirius thought. Now that he had been asked that question, he could explain. “I was at Hogwarts,” Sirius began, “I wanted to see Harry.” He ignored the reproachful look. “You said I couldn’t speak to him, write him, or give him gifts, you never said I couldn’t go just to see him.” He relaxed slightly when Regulus nodded, conceding the point. “Dumbledore and Shacklebolt left his office and I followed them. Shacklebolt was carrying a large bundle. Right before they Disapparated I overheard them talking. The bundle was Harry. Dumbledore took him,” Sirius snarled.

Regulus’ silver eyes locked with Sirius’ and the two assassins observed the overwhelming hatred in the other’s depths. “He will pay for that,” Regulus hissed, twirling one of his daggers. It was time for the filthy bastard to learn his place.

--

Rule Seventeen: Assassins must never reveal their secrets.

Sirius and Regulus Apparated outside of Hogwarts and quickly approached the school; they were met on the steps by Luna Lovegood. The Ravenclaw bowed before the cloaked Assassin Lord and spoke, “Blessed be, my Lord. If you would follow me I will show you where the others are.” Regulus and Sirius followed the blonde as she led them down into the dungeons and over to the portrait that guarded Snape’s private chambers. She whispered the password and stepped through the portal, smiling as the few people present relaxed when they realized who the visitors were.

“My Lord,” Snape, Blaise, Draco, and Neville stated.

“How may I assist you this evening, my Lord?” Snape asked.

The man gazed at Blaise. “I take it that you four are unaware of the events that have transpired this evening.”

“Events, my Lord?” Draco queried.

“My son…”

“Is with Headmaster Dumbledore,” Blaise answered. “He was asked to attend a meeting of some sort. Harry should be down soon, he planned to join us for evening tea.”

“Dumbledore took him!” Sirius snarled.

Blaise’s gaze snapped to Sirius. “What did you say?”

“Dumbledore kidnapped Harry. He seems to think that you and the other Slytherins are leading Harry astray, so he took him,” Sirius snapped.

Neville’s breath caught in his throat. “Harry is the only assassin I know of with tracking abilities. How are we going to find him?”

“That is why I am present,” Luna, answered.

“What do you mean?” Blaise demanded of the Ravenclaw.

97 Luna looked questioningly at her Lord and began to speak when she received his nod of approval. “I’m the Seer,” she whispered.

The four assassins who hadn’t known blinked in shock and inclined their heads in her direction. “My Lady,” they solemnly stated.

She turned to Sirius, “Your skills will be needed, Grim Reaper. The wards that surround his place of imprisonment are strong. They were cast by the purest of blood.”

“Of course, my Lady. As you see it, it shall be done,” Sirius responded.

Her gaze shifted over and landed on Blaise. “He will need you.”

“I will be there for him,” Blaise instantly said.

Her piercing eyes met the silvery gaze of the Assassin Lord. “Your gift will also be necessary, my Lord. Otherwise Dumbledore will attempt this again, and all of our efforts will have been for naught.”

“I had every intention of going along as well, my Lady,” Regulus stated.

Her blonde head tilted to the left as she shifted through the knowledge she had gained. “Miss Parkinson will also be necessary.”

The Slytherins blinked in shock, but Snape dutifully snapped his fingers and sent a house-elf to fetch Pansy. The portrait swung open at her hesitant knock and she stepped inside, freezing in place as she saw the group of people present. “My Lord,” she whispered.

“Harry has been kidnapped by Dumbledore, we are going to retrieve him, and your Bloodline Gift will be necessary,” Regulus commanded.

“It will be an honor to help, my Lord.”

Regulus turned back to Luna. “Continue your report.”

“He is being kept in a house. I’m unsure as to the exact location, but I can describe it. The house reeks of darkness, there are house-elf heads on the walls and a horrible portrait of a woman that screams about ‘filth’ contaminating her home,” Luna stated.

“I know the place,” Snape and Sirius immediately said.

“Well, where is it?” Blaise snarled.

“I cannot tell you,” Sirius gasped out. “Fidelius,” he panted. “I can take you there and tear through the wards.”

The Assassin Lord stepped forward and brushed his hand across Neville and Draco’s head, sealing their knowledge of Luna’s position. “That will have to suffice,” Regulus stated, heading from the room with Blaise, Pansy, and Sirius behind him. The four assassins stalked silently out of the dungeons and across the Entrance Hall, slipping through the doors and over the lawn. Once they escaped the Anti-Disapparition Wards, they focused on Sirius’ magic, and Disapparated with him.

They reappeared on a street in Muggle London. The four assassins followed Sirius down the sidewalk until they 98 stood in the shadows between the houses numbered eleven and thirteen. Sirius drew one of his Platinum Daggers and sliced the palm of his hand, allowing the blood to fall on the wards that only he could see. Once the wards had absorbed his blood, he sent it out, forcing his blood to bend the wards and shift them. The magic fought his blood, but even with the Fidelius, they were no match for the hereditary power of Lord Black. His blood forced the wards to create an entrance and his three companions were now able to see the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

They stepped through the space and waited for Sirius to join them. “The alarms?” Regulus asked.

“Are disabled,” Sirius answered. He turned his gaze to the assembled recovery team and spoke, “I will enter first and attempt to locate Harry.” He nodded to them. “You three should stay just inside the door in the shadows, understood?”

Regulus agreed with the plan and answered for them, “Indeed, we will.”

Sirius opened the door, and stepped into the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, waiting patiently for the three to follow him inside. He walked confidently down the hall, keeping a carefree look on his face as Kingsley Shacklebolt came around the corner. “Kingsley, how are you?” Sirius grinned.

“I’m perfectly fine.” The Auror gazed at him. “In fact, I do believe you will enjoy the surprise we have for you.”

“Surprise?” Sirius asked, his face showing nothing but innocent curiosity.

“Indeed, your godson…” His words dribbled off as he caught sight of shadows moving near the entrance. His wand arm rose, the killing curse on his lips when Pansy stepped forward and unleashed her magic, mesmerizing the Auror. She held the man in place as Regulus strode over and placed a hand on the man’s head, absorbing his knowledge. “Harry is being held in the basement,” he whispered.

The four assassins walked down the hall quietly, stepping cautiously around the mesmerized Auror. Regulus, Sirius, Pansy, and Blaise entered the front room. “Sirius, you and Bitter Thorn remain here and keep an eye on the entrance and the staircase, Blaise and I will head to the basement.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Sirius answered.

Regulus and Blaise entered the kitchen, when a sharp cry from the front room drew their attention. They hurried back toward Pansy and Sirius, arriving in time to watch Pansy’s body crumple to the floor; Mad-Eye Moody stood over her fallen form.

“Bloody Hell,” Sirius snarled. Leaping across the room, he transformed into his Grim, and clamped his teeth around the paranoid attacker’s throat. He tore the jugular open and dropped to all fours, watching the wizard topple to the floor. Sirius returned to his human form and glared at the fallen man. His lips twitched evilly as he whispered, “Constant Vigilance,” into the dying man’s face, voice full of shamed bitterness.

He hurried over to the wounded girl, hoping the curse hadn’t been lethal. The breath rushed from his chest as he saw the damage that had been done by the Cutting Curse she had been hit with. He gathered Pansy in his arms and turned to face his brother, who had mind-wiped and then stunned and bound Shacklebolt. “Why was she meant to come if she would get injured?” he demanded.

Regulus gazed at his brother and answered, “The tip of his wand was glowing green when he spotted us near the door. If she hadn’t been with us, one of us would have died.” 99 Sirius blinked in shock. “I didn’t see that.”

“You couldn’t from your position,” Regulus stated simply. “Return with her to Hogwarts and make sure that she is properly healed. Deceitful Abyss will be expecting you I’m sure. Blaise and I can take it from here.”

“As you wish it, my Lord.” His answer drifted over to his brother as he turned and left the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters with the wounded girl in his arms.

“Come, Crimson Frost, it’s time that we retrieve my son.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Blaise’s answer was spoken in a slightly distracted tone of voice. His Harry was missing. If that old man wasn’t needed alive – Blaise would have been very happy to kill him. He followed his Lord into the kitchen and through the far door that led down into the basement. Their feet quietly trod down the stairs with nary a creak. They heard voices at the end of the hall and followed the sounds, coming to a stop outside a door that wasn’t closed all the way. Blaise’s eyes narrowed in hatred at the sight that met his eyes. “Harry,” he whispered.

--

Harry awoke to find himself chained against a wall, wearing only his trousers. He grinned maliciously as he felt the Ivory Daggers pressed against his skin. Oh, he pitied anyone who attempted to touch them. His eyes opened and deftly absorbed the information on his surroundings. The room was of medium size with walls and floor made of stone. Due to the lack of windows he assumed the room was located underground, though the torches in the room lit it well. The room’s only other occupant was his Headmaster.

Harry glared at the man with hate-filled eyes. He had known that the Headmaster couldn’t be trusted, but he hadn’t thought the man was so deluded he would attack one of his own students. He was disgusted that he had turned his back on the man, even if it had only been for a moment.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and strode forward when he noticed the young man had regained consciousness. “I really didn’t want to have to do this to you, my boy,” he stated. “I have done all I can to get you to confide in me. I have been waiting for you to tell me what you know, and you never have. I gave you many opportunities and you never used them. You really should have, Harry. It would have made this more pleasant for the both of us.”

Harry tried to tune out the old bastard and focus on his magic, seeking to push it into the chains and break them, freeing himself. His magic was sluggish and refused to cooperate. Harry blinked up at the man in dawning horror.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said. “I couldn’t very well have you trying to escape when I’m doing what’s best for you, my boy. You have been fed a potion that will make your magic inaccessible for the next twelve hours. I’m sure that by the end of that time period, you and I will have reached an amicable arrangement.”

Harry’s face blanked of all emotion. The man was completely and utterly insane. Amicable? There was nothing amicable about this situation.

“Now tell me, dear boy, why is it that you possess four wands? And why can they not be removed from your person?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry sneered at the man before him. “I would love to see what happened to the person who tried to remove 100 them.”

Blue eyes briefly flared before fading into a kindly twinkle once again. “The man who attempted it is in St. Mungo’s, you should feel bad about harming him, Harry.”

“He should know not to touch that which doesn’t belong to him,” Harry replied.

“Why can they not be removed?” Dumbledore demanded.

Harry cocked his head to the side, gazing at the wizard before him. This information would not harm him, and it could not be used against him. Answering the question may briefly convince the fool that he intended to cooperate, thus allowing his friends more time to realize he had been captured and send assistance. “They have been blood-bonded to me,” Harry replied. “Only a true blood relative can touch them, though my future bonded will also be able to touch them without being harmed.”

The blue eyes widened in horror. “Blood Magic is a Dark Art, Harry. You’re the savior of the wizarding world; no one can know that you have performed Dark Magic. I demand that you stop at once.”

“Dark Magic is not evil, Dumbledore, it is merely a different type of magic than Light Magic,” Harry stated. His head jerked to the side as Dumbledore coldly struck his face.

“Dark Magic is evil. I do not know who has been telling you otherwise, but they must be punished. I will not have vigilantes and dark wizards filling your head with lies and propaganda. You are the Icon of the Light, and you will act as one. I fear this will be more difficult on you than I thought it would, my boy,” Dumbledore stated.

Harry glared with hate-filled eyes at the Headmaster. This man was supposed to be the Leader of the Light. He was treated with great respect, and people often took his word as if he were a God. The man had allowed that power to go to his head, and truly seemed to believe that he was the only person who could judge the world, that he was worthy. Moments like this showed him yet again, why the assassins were so necessary to the existence of the world. Their impartiality allowed them to make the best decision with sufficient information. Bias was not allowed.

“Where were you all of those years you were supposed to be at Hogwarts?” Dumbledore repeated the question he had asked months before.

“I told you I was traveling,” Harry answered.

“What did you do during these travels?” he queried.

“A great many things, I learned of other cultures and trained. You have no need to worry, I will be ready to defeat Voldemort when the time comes,” Harry spat.

The twinkling blue eyes blazed with rage. “No, you are not trained until I say you are trained. You are not ready until I say you are ready. I don’t care who you have had as a tutor or what you have learned, your training will only consist of that which I approve of,” Dumbledore bit out.

Harry’s mind was full of riotous emotions that screamed for their release. They wanted to lash out, to damage, to hurt, to kill. This bastard had no right to attempt to dictate his entire life. He focused on Dumbledore’s damaged arm and smiled viciously. At least Harry had the comfort of knowing the man’s life would be at an end sooner than he wanted it to be. 101 “You claim to have been raised by a man who took you from your relatives,” Dumbledore stated, calming down slightly.

“Yes,” Harry answered simply.

“You refer to this man as your father,” Dumbledore added.

“I do,” Harry replied.

“What is your father’s name?” Dumbledore queried.

“I am unable to say,” Harry responded. “I had to given an Unbreakable Vow never to reveal his identity.” Harry smirked inwardly as the wizard believed him.

“He must be quite important to make you swear such a vow,” Dumbledore mumbled.

“Oh, yes,” Harry drawled, “father is quite important.”

“What does he look like?” the venerable wizard asked.

“He always wears a hooded cloak that shadows his face,” Harry replied, snickering to himself at the frustration that was easily visible on the Headmaster’s face.

“I still don’t understand how you were sorted into Slytherin,” Dumbledore said. “Your parents were both members of Gryffindor, you are the savior of the wizarding world surely you should be in Gryffindor as well. Maybe the hat misplaced you.”

“I was not misplaced,” Harry stated, interrupting the man’s ruminations. “I was always meant to be a Slytherin.”

“They have been turning you against me,” Dumbledore snapped. “You never confide in me, you seem to distrust me, when I have done nothing wrong. Everything fell apart, all my plans. You were going to be Ron Weasley’s best friend and marry his little sister Ginny.”

It took all of Harry’s self-control not to spit in the man’s face for daring to mention that name in his presence. “You cannot be serious,” Harry exclaimed. “Ron is a complete moron. He’s annoying and thinks he’s perfect; I can’t stand the prick. As for the dead girl, I never would have bonded with her.”

Dumbledore slapped the bound man once again. “You should never speak ill of the dead,” he snapped. “She would have made you a good wife. I’m not sure what spells Mr. Zabini is using to pervert your mind and make you believe you care for him, but there is no need to worry, I will find out and free you from their influence.”

Harry clenched his teeth together so tightly he was sure they would shatter. “Blaise has done nothing to me. He has been perfectly polite, and mannered in my presence. I’m the one who chose him.”

The Headmaster stared in shock at the boy who should have been his favorite pupil. “You actually chose that Slytherin as your future mate? Am I to assume your father approves of this match?”

“Yes, I chose Blaise of my own free will and my father approves,” Harry cried defiantly.

102 “That just won’t do,” Dumbledore muttered. “I cannot have the wizarding world finding out that the Boy-Who- Lived is homosexual. Harry Potter is supposed to be perfectly normal in every area that is unrelated to magical power. He must marry a pure-blood witch and have normal, but powerful children to help lead future generations.”

Harry tuned out the man’s delusional mutterings. Normal? What was so great about being normal? Normal was the same as being mediocre, and if ever Harry hated a word, it would be that one. Not special in any way. Not unique. Normal. Boring. Everyone wanted to be special in some way. Anyone who said otherwise was either lying or in denial. Sure, some people wanted to be less special than they were, but no one could wish to be truly unremarkable, could they?

Dumbledore harshly tugged Harry’s hair to get the young man’s attention. “That tattoo on your back, where did you get it?”

“China,” Harry instantly answered. “Hurt like Hell too!”

“I have never seen those symbols before, what do they mean?” he asked.

A flash of mischief appeared in Harry’s eyes before quickly fading away. “They are from an ancient dialect, revered above all others in Asia. They translate to: Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.” Harry bit his tongue in an attempt to hold in the hysterical laughter that bubbled up his throat at the incredulous look on Dumbledore’s face.

“Why would you get that tattooed on your lower back?”

“Because it’s the truth,” Harry replied solemnly.

“I see,” Dumbledore mumbled. “What of those different colored letters you are being sent, what is their significance?”

“They have no significance whatsoever,” Harry drawled. “My father simply hates repetitiveness and so he bought some lovely colored parchment at Scrivenshaft’s.”

“And he uses this special parchment to write Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Zabini?” Dumbledore asked.

“Of course,” Harry answered. “A good father always knows who his child’s friends are. Besides, he wanted to talk to Blaise about becoming my future bonded.”

“Miss Granger mentioned to me before the holiday, that you and Mr. Longbottom disappear through a wall on the seventh floor of the castle. Do you have anything to say about that, my boy?”

That question is what finally caused Harry’s temper to snap. The man had not only kidnapped him and bound him to a wall; he’d also had spies watching Harry’s movements. Even if the chit had been honestly concerned about them, she had no right to take those concerns to Dumbledore; she could have asked them if something was the matter. The situation finally exploded, and with it, Harry’s temper. “Neville and I like to disappear for a hot, sweaty, passionate shag, Headmaster. Would you like the details?”

“You should not have said that, my boy. No one mocks me!” Dumbledore snarled. He grabbed Harry’s chin and forced the young man to look into his eyes, then he tore into Harry’s weakened mind. He couldn’t access any information, but he could make the brat suffer for mocking him. He projected a series of pictures into Harry’s mind, pictures of Blaise being brutally tortured, torn apart, with no chance of surviving. Each scene that was 103 pushed into the boy’s head seemed utterly real, precise down the smallest detail. Harry could even smell Blaise’s blood. It was that undeniable scent, which caused the screams to tear from his throat and echo through the small chamber.

The door shot open and Blaise rushed forward, tearing the bastard’s hands off of Harry’s face. He released the manacles that bound Harry to the wall and caught the smaller form as Harry fell forward into his arms. He lifted his beloved with careful arms, hugging Harry tightly to his chest as he began whispering nonsensical words into the Submissive’s hair.

Regulus’ silver eyes shown with absolute loathing as he wrapped his hands around Dumbledore’s head and delved into the man’s mind. Sealing and containing various thoughts, forcing the man to act in a way that Regulus demanded, and forbidding the man from ever approaching Harry again. He pulled from the man’s mind in disgust, horrified by the things that were hidden in its depths. Using potions to bind people’s magic, stealing children, deciding who had a right to live and die. If Dumbledore didn’t have to live until Easter, Regulus would have gladly taken the man to his manor and tortured the cruel bastard until his death.

“His magic will be unresponsive for the next nine hours,” Regulus hissed. “He wasn’t able to protect his mind from the bastard’s attack.”

“Blaise, no, not Blaise, don’t hurt him, not Blaise,” Harry muttered repeatedly as tears fell down his face.

Regulus hurried over to the two assassins and caressed Harry’s forehead, freeing his son from the enchantment he had been caught in. Harry blinked as he returned to himself, he glanced around quickly and saw his father’s worried expression and felt the strong arms that held him. His gaze rose until it met Blaise’s; with a cry of glee Harry wrapped his arms around Blaise’s neck, tightly clutching his future mate. His unharmed future mate.

Blaise held Harry tightly against him as the three assassins made their way out of the house. They reappeared outside of Hogwarts and Blaise carried Harry down to the dungeons, entering Severus’ personal chambers and carrying his Harry inside. He nodded to the people present, showed them that Harry was alive, and then settled down on the couch, with Harry still in his arms. They fell asleep entwined together, each thinking only of keeping the other safe.

--

Severus breathed a sigh of relief when Blaise entered his chambers carrying Harry. The little Submissive had come to mean a great deal to the people present. Draco and Neville nodded to their Lord, leaving quietly; the Assassin Lord followed them out satisfied that his son was safe and would be well cared for.

He watched Blaise clutch Harry tightly in his sleep and wished someone had protected him like that when he had been a child. Wished that someone had cared. If someone were to examine his birthmark, they would see the ring of runes that all assassins had, the circle that said: Shadows Sworn, Forever Entwined. It was the rune in the center of the circle that would shock some. It said: Prince.

His father had been a loving husband to his wife, until the night Severus had been born. The man had taken one look at the birthmark and any love he might have felt towards his wife and son vanished. Tobias Snape was classified as a Muggle. Though technically, he was a Squib, a Squib that was descended from the Snape Assassin Bloodline that died out when an ancestor married a Muggle.

Severus’ father had spent his whole life wishing he had magic and that he was an assassin. His jealous human nature would not allow him to forgive both his wife and son, who had the things he felt he should have had. Tobias had abused Severus, treating the boy like garbage, never showing him love or care. The only person who 104 had cared about him and tried to protect him was his mother, who had been murdered by his father. He loved his mother, and at the same time, he hated her for being so weak that she couldn’t leave her husband and protect her child. There was no remorse in his heart the night he killed his father, only a sense of vindication.

Snape gazed down at the two Slytherins, seeing the love they held for each other and wondered if his life would ever be that full of love. His head jerked to the side as a hand brushed his own. He gazed down into glittering blue eyes and smiled. Yes, his life would eventually be full of love.

--

Rule Eighteen: Assassins must be prepared to act on short notice.

Three days after the kidnapping, Draco Malfoy approached Harry. “Harry, I have determined what I will give to Neville as my Utpote Indicium. Are you available this afternoon to accompany me as I retrieve it?” the Malfoy Heir asked.

Harry gazed at the young man before him. So, the Malfoy Heir was ready to prove his feelings and give Neville a bonding gift. “Indeed, I’m available this afternoon,” Harry replied.

Draco smiled in relief. “Thank you, Harry. Can you be ready to go in two hours?”

“Yes, I can. Where are we headed?”

“Diagon Alley,” Draco responded.

The two Slytherins parted and Harry headed back to the common room looking for Blaise. He glanced at the wall and muttered, “Thestral bones,” before entering and walking towards his fiancé. Blaise was seated in an armchair that was placed before the fire, gazing into the flaming depths; Harry calmly settled in his lap, smiling slightly as the strong arms wrapped around him.

“I’ll be leaving this afternoon,” Harry whispered into the silence.

Blaise’s arms tightened at the words. “Oh?”

“Yes, I must accompany Draco and view the retrieval of the Utpote Indicium. It’s part of my duty as Neville’s Unus Quisnam Custodiae,” Harry stated.

“I do not like you leaving so soon,” Blaise sighed.

“I know,” Harry answered, “but I’ll be perfectly safe. We are heading to Diagon Alley.”

“If you aren’t back by dinner, I’ll come after you,” Blaise adamantly stated.

“I’m sure that we’ll have returned by then. Give my apologies to Professor Vector for being ill will you?” Harry queried.

“Of course,” Blaise drawled.

--

105 Harry and Draco met in the Potions classroom during one of Severus’ free periods. Draco was covered in a black cloak from head to toe and Harry was similarly clothed, though his cloak was edged in ivory satin. The two assassins headed to the corner and Harry once again opened the secret tunnel, entering with Draco on his heels.

“What are we retrieving?” Harry asked the Platinum.

A malicious smirk briefly flitted across Draco’s face. “In our fifth-year the Defense professor was a horrid woman assigned by the Ministry of Magic. She was completely incompetent,” he snarled. “Neville felt bad for the other Gryffindors and decided to create an illegal defense league to help train them so that they could protect themselves if they got attacked." A slight look of shame passed over the blond's face. "I inadvertently helped the witch catch him and he was severely punished.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

“He was forced to write lines with a Blood Quill,” Draco responded, agreeing with the hiss of anger that escaped Harry’s lips. “The scar was removed by one of our Healers, but I still want to punish the witch. I decided that she would be a wonderful gift to my beloved.”

“Indeed,” Harry drawled. “What did the scar say?”

Draco’s teeth clenched in rage as he responded, “I have no worth.”

Harry’s eyes began to glow Avada Kedavra green as he listened to the tale. How dare a witch of non-assassin heritage claim that Neville Longbottom, such a kind and strong soul, was worthless? He locked gazes with his companion. “I approve of the gift you will present as your Utpote Indicium,” he stated. “Well chosen, Draco.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’m glad that you approve,” Draco answered as they reached the end of the tunnel.

Harry mechanically removed the tripwire and lifted the trap door, exiting the tunnel first and ascertaining that the area was safe for the moment. Draco followed him out of the passageway and carefully took in the surrounding forest as he lowered the trap door, shutting it. “Apparition Coordinates are identical to the ones we used last time we went to Diagon Alley,” Draco stated.

Harry nodded and the two assassins disappeared, reappearing before the entrance to the alley that was behind The Leaky Cauldron. Harry removed one of his daggers and casually tapped the bricks in the correct order, waiting patiently for the entrance to appear. The young men swept through the entrance, grinning to themselves as wizards and witches alike shifted away from their cloaked figures. They had only taken a few steps into the alley when they were approached by a hooded figure.

“Young master,” the person whispered.

Harry observed the hooded woman carefully. “Beautiful Death,” he responded.

“We have found something that will interest you, young master,” she began. “I was sent to retrieve it and show it to you, however, if I may borrow a few moments of your time, I can show you the object now.”

Harry glanced over at Draco and asked, “Can you spare me for a few moments, Platinum?”

“Yes,” Draco instantly replied, “the witch isn’t supposed to be here for another hour according to my sources, I simply wanted to make sure that we didn’t miss her,” he stated. 106 “Very well, meet me in Flourish and Blotts,” Harry said. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“As you wish it,” Draco responded and turning, headed over to the bookstore.

Harry silently followed the smaller figure to Gringotts at the end of the alley. “The object resides within the bank?”

“Indeed, I have been safe-keeping it for quite some time,” she replied. “I merely thought it was a Dark Arts object, I had no idea of its true nature.”

They stepped through the doors and Harry trailed behind her as she passed by the line of waiting customers and stopped before the aged goblin. “What do you want?” he snarled in a grumpy tone of voice.

The small woman pulled a dagger from her sleeve and showed it to the goblin. “I wish to be taken to my vault,” she said.

The goblin’s eyes widened as he gazed at the weapon. “Of course, my Lady,” he replied, in a somewhat respectful tone of voice. “Bogrod!” the aged goblin yelled. A smaller goblin hobbled over to the elder and waited patiently for instructions. “Take Lady Lestrange and her guest down to the Lestrange Vault,” the goblin quietly ordered.

“Of course, sir! Right this way madam and guest,” Bogrod said.

Harry and Bellatrix followed the small creature and gracefully climbed into the cart, settling down as Bogrod pushed the cart into motion. “It’s been a while,” Harry stated.

“Yes, it has,” Bellatrix, responded.

“Has Voldemort realized that your family wasn’t really in Azkaban?” Harry queried.

Bellatrix snickered. “No, the Dark Lord considers my husband, my brother-in-law, and I to be his most loyal followers,” she mockingly sneered. “He’s positive that we tortured the Longbottoms into insanity, and then stayed in prison for over a decade because we refused to renounce our loyalty to him. Pompous prick.” The hatred on her face faded slightly as she continued, “I wish we had arrived in time to save more than their son. Alice and Frank were great assassins.” The hatred flared again. “If the Aurors had arrived in time to see us trying to save them they never would have believed the truth, so we bound the true attackers and placed permanent glamours over them, letting them take the fall for their own actions, regardless that our names would be smeared in the process.”

“Your mate’s Bloodline Gift is particularly useful,” Harry replied.

The malicious grin grew on her face as they swept between cold cavern walls. “Indeed, it is.”

Harry blinked in shock at the beautiful dragon that stood guarding the Lestrange Vault; he had never been this close to one before. Without a thought that this might be a foolish idea, he stepped from the cart and addressed the dragon, “Hello, beautiful one.”

“Interesting human, no one has spoken to me in a thousand years.”

“It’s a shame that you’re trapped down here,” he stated, gazing at the manacles and chains that kept the dragon 107 in place. “Such beauty should not be contained.”

“I have not been forced into servitude, little human.” The dragon snorted. “A great many years ago, a member of the Lestrange Line saved my life, in return I agreed to guard all that they held precious.”

“The woman with me is a Lestrange; we have come seeking entrance to the vault.”

“And entrance you shall have, little one,” the dragon said, shifting off to the side.

Bogrod carefully picked his way around the dragon and pressed his palm against the vault door, opening it for the two assassins. Harry and Bellatrix entered the vault, gazing at the mounds of treasure. “There it is,” Bellatrix stated, pointing to a shelf that held a golden jewel-encrusted cup, “Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup!”

Harry’s head swung in the direction she pointed and as his eyes locked onto the Horcrux, he felt a familiar evil pervade the vault. It took him a moment to make the connection, but when he did, a vicious smirk appeared on his face. He raised his right arm, clutching a dagger tightly, and pointed it at the cup that held part of Voldemort’s soul. “Glacialis Flamma!” He watched in satisfaction as blue flames engulfed the cup. The two assassins watched as a black shadow attempted to flee the flames, but could not. The shadow was caught in the fire, and shattered to small pieces with the cup as the flames froze. They sighed in relief as the sense of evil disappeared.

“Only one more left to find,” Bellatrix stated.

“Correction, there are none left to find,” Harry replied. At her curious look he continued, “I’m aware of the location of the last missing Horcrux, it’s in Hogwarts. Please inform my father that it’ll be destroyed later today.”

“As you wish it, young master,” Bellatrix stated, rejoining Harry and Bogrod in the cart.

“Thank you for allowing us entrance.”

“It was no trouble, little human. I enjoyed speaking with you.”

“As did I.” The cart jerked into motion, heading back up to the bank lobby, leaving the lone dragon behind.

The two assassins exited the cart and walked calmly out of Gringotts. “I thank you for your assistance, Onyx Snow,” Bellatrix said.

“It was my pleasure to assist you, Beautiful Death,” Harry responded. The two assassins inclined their heads to each other and headed to their next destination. Bellatrix needed to report to her true Lord, and Harry was off in search of Draco.

The cloaked assassin walked confidently into Flourish and Blotts, slowly searching the store for the Platinum he had come with. He found Draco in the section that pertained to Ancient Runes. Harry opened his mouth to address the blond when he caught sight of a book he’d never heard of, The Most Ancient of Runes. Harry’s hand shot out and grasped the book; its worn and dusty cover scratched his hand. He opened the tome and glanced at the Table of Contents. He had never seen some of these runes before – he had to have this book. It would complete his project.

Draco’s curious eyes bore into Harry. “What’re you doing?”

108 “I can’t believe they have this book,” Harry whispered in awe.

“What book?” Draco asked in annoyance.

Harry blinked at the other assassin. “This book,” Harry said, holding it up. “What, you can’t see this?”

“No,” Draco replied. “I don’t see anything. What is it?”

“Never mind,” Harry replied, carrying the book up to the counter. “I would like to purchase this book.”

The proprietor stared at Harry’s empty hands and smiled. “It’s free, young man. Some tomes can only be seen by the person who needs them most; those tomes belong to that person only. No payment is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Quite sure, young man. Quite sure.”

“Then you have my thanks,” Harry responded formally before returning to Draco’s side. He shrunk the book and placed it in his pocket.

Draco leaned closer to Harry and whispered, “There she is.”

Harry’s mind instantly returned to the reason the outing had begun in the first place. The witch in question was short in nature and rather squat. She resembled a toad more than anything else and her body was encased in revolting articles of clothing that were all a vibrant pink in color. “Name?” Harry asked.

“Dolores Umbridge,” Draco replied.

Harry absorbed the information and watched the woman as she went about her business. The longer he observed her, the more he disliked the bint. Draco and Harry followed the woman from the store and approached her as she neared The Leaky Cauldron.

“Madam Umbridge!” Draco called.

The pink witch turned around and looked at them. “Hem hem. Do I know you?”

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” the blond whispered, and grinned as the woman’s eyes widened. “My companion is Harry Potter,” he continued lowering his voice even farther. “We have come across some information that we feel will be vital to the Ministry.”

“Really?” she questioned, gazing at Harry’s cloaked form in shock.

“Yes,” Draco earnestly replied. “We know that the Minister trusts you and we want him to be warned as soon as possible.”

“Hem hem. Well, what is this information?” her avaricious voice demanded.

“It’s quite delicate in nature,” Harry input, “perhaps if we were in a less populated area, say Hogwarts, where there is less of a chance of someone overhearing.”

“Hem hem. Quite right, we can’t have important information getting out,” the toad agreed, Disapparating with 109 the young men.

She was bound and silenced the moment they arrived. Harry left to fetch Neville, walking hurriedly across the grounds under a Disillusionment Spell. He removed his cloak, folded it away in his pocket, and made himself visible again approaching Neville in the library. “Proprius Unus, your presence is required,” Harry stated.

Neville’s eyes widened in wonder as he silently rose to his feet and followed Harry down the staircases. Neville was handed a warm cloak and watched as Harry donned his own before following the Slytherin out into the snow. They converged with Draco at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and Neville gazed at the Dominant curiously. “I offer unto you my Utpote Indicium,” Draco stated, unveiling Umbridge.

Neville smirked cruelly as he gazed upon the witch who had made his life Hell for almost a year. “It’s acceptable,” he responded, smirking at the large black bow that was tied around the pink form. Neville ‘Enervated’ the witch and watched her futile struggles with a grin on his face. “I did warn you,” he stated, gazing into her eyes, “that no matter how long it would take, you would be punished.”

Neville allowed his Bloodline Gift freedom, focusing on the slumbering wild rose bushes behind her. The three assassins observed as endless thorns were fired into the air and plunged into the wriggling witch’s flesh. Blood dripped down her skin as the thorns twisted and danced their way deeper into her body. “Are you going to kill her?” Harry asked curiously.

“No,” Neville answered, “I want her to suffer.” He removed one of his Platinum Daggers and pressed it against her chest, mumbling quietly in Latin. A moment later, the witch was a large pink toad that had a black ribbon tied around its neck.

Harry and Draco snickered in amusement. The punishment fit her; she was actually not as hideous as she had been before. “What will you do with her?” Draco queried.

Neville bent over and scooped the toad up, smirking down at the amphibian. “Trevor gets lonely at the manor,” he drawled. “I think he could use a friend.” Malfoy burst into hysterical laughter, soon joined by Harry when he had been told what Trevor was.

Harry smiled at the pair and walked away, leaving them to their privacy.

Neville shoved Umbridge in his pocket before stepping forward into Draco’s arms and tightly clutching the taller blond. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Draco responded.

Neville gazed up at Draco and lifted his face, slowly brushing his lips against Draco’s. The blond gasped slightly before smiling and leaning down to return the pressure. Their mouths joined, caressed, and showed their love in the whirl of snow.

--

Harry entered the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts with a gentle smile in his heart, though his face remained expressionless. He was happy for the Platinums, they were both worthy people, and they deserved to be together. It was easy for him to see that they cared about each other and would make each other happy. Their offspring would be a valuable contribution to the assassin legacy.

His eyes brightened when he caught sight of Blaise. Harry hurried forward and embraced his fiancé, basking in 110 the warmth of the Slytherin’s arms. “Your outing went well?” Blaise asked.

“Very well,” Harry replied. “It was more productive than I imagined it would be.” Harry stepped back and clasped Blaise’s hand in his own, tugging the man towards the main staircase.

“Where are we going, Harry?” Blaise queried.

A solemn look came over Harry’s face. “There is something that I have to take care of,” he responded. Blaise followed Harry up the many staircases to the seventh floor, wondering what it was that held his little Ivory’s attention. Harry released his hand and began pacing in front of a wall, his thoughts said, ‘Show me the evil that is here, yet not here. Show me the evil that is here, yet not here. Show me the evil that is here, yet not here.’ The door appeared in the wall and Harry tugged it open.

Blaise’s eyes narrowed calculatingly as Harry opened the new door; he padded into the room behind Harry and quickly assessed the room, seeing nothing but a small tiara on the floor. “What is that?” Blaise wanted to know.

“That is Ravenclaw’s Diadem if I’m not mistaken,” Harry replied walking closer to the object.

“How did you know it was here?”

“I didn’t, I simply knew that the evil was here and needed to be destroyed.”

“The evil?” Blaise asked, sensing the malignant hatred the object held.

“Yes,” Harry replied. “That item holds part of Voldemort’s soul in it. It’s called a Horcrux. They must all be destroyed or he will simply regain his life after he’s defeated.”

“Ah,” Blaise muttered, “that’s why you sent him that message.”

“Indeed,” Harry answered. “I needed him to leave me alone until Easter so that we would have time to identify and destroy all of the pieces of his soul.”

“I see,” Blaise’s eyes bore into Harry’s scar. “Is your scar…”

“No,” Harry interrupted. “Though he does have a link with my mind.”

Blaise growled in rage, “How do I get rid of it?”

“It will be destroyed the night we bond,” Harry said with a blush. “The bonding ritual will remove all ties to other people as our souls are joined.”

“Perfect,” Blaise purred. “I won’t stand for anyone else having such a close bond with you.”

Harry smiled slightly at the Obsidian’s possessiveness. “I would feel the same way,” he responded.

“I take it we should destroy it then?” Blaise queried.

“Indeed, that’s why we’re here,” Harry answered. “The spell we made works perfectly. I destroyed one earlier today using it.”

A smug smirk spread across Blaise’s face; he gazed down at the small-jeweled tiara, reading the inscription as 111 he raised his dagger. Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest pleasure. The statement was true, and yet not. Blaise considered love to be more important than wit. “Glacialis Flamma!” The two assassins observed as a shadow fought to free itself from the flames and failed. The priceless possessed artifact shattered to pieces.

Harry strode over and leaned back against Blaise’s chest. “Five down, two to go,” he stated into the silence.

--

Rule Nineteen: Assassins must control their emotions.

Harry and Blaise were seated next to each other at breakfast during the last week of January, quietly conversing with their friends. Blaise glanced over at his intended mate and smirked slightly. “Harry, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he queried.

Emerald eyes sparkled up into chocolate-brown ones mischievously. “Are we actually going to attend this time?” he questioned so quietly only Blaise heard.

“Yes,” Blaise drawled, “I would love to escort you.”

“Then it will be my pleasure to accept,” Harry replied.

Blaise successfully kept the devoted smile off his face, but it blossomed inside. The young man sitting next to him was everything he had ever wanted in a mate. Powerful, kind, skilled, intelligent, loving, and amusing. Harry possessed that sarcastic wit that he loved to battle against. The petite assassin was his perfect match in every way.

He rose from the table and placed his hand on the small of Harry’s back, guiding his fiancé through the crowd of students, ensuring that no one came in contact with his beloved. They headed down to Potions without a word; the silence spoke for them. They were comfortable in each other’s presence; they felt whole and safe. Blaise gazed down at the ebony hair and allowed his mind to drift towards the future.

Someday they would have a child and he wanted their child to have Harry’s eyes and hair. He was amazed at how well Harry got along with children and knew that the smaller man would make a very good parent. He was also looking forward to being a father. He may not show it outwardly, but his family meant more to him than anything, and he had looked forward to having a family of his own for years.

His was also looking forward to making a home with Harry, a sanctuary, a place that was just theirs, private and relaxing, a haven from the necessary evils of the outside world where they could be themselves and raise their children. Home and family were the two things he wanted most with his future mate. He knew that Harry felt the same way.

Blaise’s thought were not on the potion he was supposed to be brewing, though he still managed to create a perfect replica of it. His mind was absorbed with thoughts of the past, present and future. He had always known that his mate would be someone of great skill. He would accept nothing less than a person that could catch and hold his interest. He had vowed to only bond for love, never for duty, no matter how long the search took him.

Then Harry Potter appeared at Hogwarts. The assassin was a mystery, his secrets were hidden within secrets, and Blaise had been attracted. The milky-white skin, glittering emerald eyes, and luxurious black locks captivated him, as did the somewhat musical lilt of the Submissive’s voice. He had worked on the puzzle that was Harry Potter for weeks, slowly learning new things, which resulted in even more questions. The young man

112 had claimed every bit of his attention.

His desire to learn more about the Submissive had increased drastically when he saw the Ivory Daggers for the first time. Harry was someone of skill, someone with talent who didn’t mind hard work and dedication. A person who worked for what they wanted instead of having it handed to them on a silver platter. For the only way to reach Obsidian or Ivory Rank was years and years of dedication that was unwavering in any way.

Then the Longbottom Heir had chosen Harry as his guardian and Blaise could easily see the respect and trust that the Platinum had in Harry Potter. It was a testament to his character that he was considered worthy. Another puzzle piece fell into place, and Blaise Zabini was slowly gaining the picture that was Harry Potter.

He had been viciously angry with the chit who had harmed his sister, and was grateful to Harry for having a link to Bella. His quick actions had saved Blaise’s younger sister from more damage. Then he had shown trust in Blaise by surrendering his unconscious self to the Obsidian’s control, believing in the goodness he sensed in Blaise’s spirit. It was the highest honor he had ever received. He had gazed at the enigma that was Harry Potter and watched over the young man who was saving his sister once again.

He knew the Ivory was fiercely protective; his actions against the Weaslette were ample proof of that. The man hadn’t flinched, hadn’t given an inch, he had extracted just vengeance, avenging the small child who had done nothing wrong. Yes, Harry Potter would make a very good parent indeed.

Harry’s power had been shown in so many ways, he had the ability of Parseltongue. A rare and powerful gift probably transferred to him by Voldemort. He was a wielder of the Ivory Daggers; they alone spoke of his strength. The assassin that was to be his future mate was a powerful and fearsome man. However, what impressed Blaise the most about this power was how wisely Harry used it. With the sheer amount of strength he possessed, he could have done anything he wished to.

Harry was intelligent and constantly kept Blaise’s mind engaged, resulting in amusing battles of wit. He loved playing chess with the wily man and enjoyed their conversations. Harry had a brilliant mind with tactics and schoolwork, both of which had been proven repeatedly. Harry even managed to study on the side, working on something that Blaise never managed to catch sight of. He could only assume that it was powerful and would be destructive in the wrong hands.

But most of all, the emotion that Harry evoked was love. Blaise had been honored beyond measure when he had been chosen to attend the Gala. He had literally bitten into his tongue when Harry had chosen him; the little Ivory had possessed his heart and now he would have the chance to win Harry’s heart in return.

Blaise couldn’t remember being more terrified and angry than he had been when he had learned that Harry had been taken away from him. His mind had been full of various horrible scenarios and he had wanted nothing more than to hold the younger man against his chest and safe in his embrace. Ever since that day, he had been hesitant to let Harry out of his sight. He was afraid that Harry would be taken once again.

Tradition mattered to Blaise. He had won Harry’s hand, and won it properly. He finally had a completed picture of his future mate, and now it was time to win Harry as his own in every way that mattered. Blaise Zabini may have looked emotionless and stoic on the outside, but internally he was a rumbling mass of emotions, all aimed at a beloved Ivory Daggered Assassin.

--

The next morning, Harry met Blaise in the Entrance Hall with a smile on his face. Harry reached up and brushed his hand across the aristocratic-boned cheek, loving the difference in their skin tones. They were both 113 chocolate, but Harry was of the white variety while Blaise was closer to dark. “Thank you for inviting me,” Harry stated, his breath catching in his throat.

“Thank you for agreeing to come,” Blaise responded, his sincerity evident.

Harry was reaching to pull on his gloves when Blaise snagged his hand. “Let me keep you warm.”

A slight shiver traveled down Harry’s spine at the statement, but he smiled slightly and nodded his agreement. Their fingers entwined as they headed out of the school and walked slowly through the snowy path. “What did you have planned today?” Harry asked.

“Honestly, I just wanted to be in your company,” Blaise answered, making Harry blush. “However, I thought you might enjoy a true trip to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m sure I will with you by my side,” Harry answered honestly.

A rare smile spread across Blaise’s face as he gazed down at the little Ivory, spreading wider as it was answered in kind. Blaise tucked their hands away in his pocket, keeping the biting cold from harming Harry’s soft skin. “I feel the same way,” he replied.

The two assassins strolled casually into the village, relishing in the feel of their hands clasped together. Holding the feeling of warmth and belonging to their chests, they wandered into Scrivenshaft’s first, purchasing extra parchment and a few new quills. The pair then wandered over to Zonko’s browsing the selection of joke and prank products, reading the descriptions with amusement.

“Luv-U-Bunny, a chocolate, that once consumed will turn the consumer into a fluffy pink bunny for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Itchalot is a powder that’s stirred into a beverage. The drinker will develop an unending itch whenever something related to the tale of King Arthur is mentioned.”

“Honest-Tea, a brew that will force the drinker to answer three questions, regardless of how embarrassing they are.”

“Mirror Fragments, cursed be ye, who touches me.”

“Burning Fire, I reveal your heart’s desire,” Harry read aloud. Their eyes locked as each assassin reached forward and picked one up, heading to the front of the store. They purchased the sweets and slid them into their pockets.

Blaise wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and guided the smaller Slytherin over to The Three Broomsticks. They claimed a booth in the back that afforded them privacy and yet had easy access to the nearest exits. Madam Rosmerta appeared with their Butterbeers and smiled down at the pair before heading back to the bar.

Blaise gazed intently at Harry’s pale face. “Tell me something,” Blaise said, “something I don’t know about you.” The two assassins sipped their Butterbeers.

Harry blinked once in thought before a wicked smirk spread across his face. “I decided to bond with you when I was thirteen.”

“What?” Blaise queried. How could that have happened? 114 “I had just been given my daggers, and I was shocked that my father had made them, he never makes daggers,” Harry stated.

“He made mine,” Blaise spoke.

“I know, he mentioned that there was an Obsidian Prodigy who had just received daggers as well, and that he had made them,” Harry drawled. “I told him then that this Obsidian would be worthy of me and I would choose him.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, as darkness seemed to cross Blaise’s face.

“I thought…”

Harry reached across the table and cupped Blaise’s chin in his palm, forcing the larger Slytherin to meet his gaze. “You won my hand and my heart fairly, Blaise. I didn’t choose you because of a childish passing thought,” he explained. “I didn’t choose you for your daggers, or your lineage, or your skills, I chose you because of who you are. You’re a great man, Blaise Zabini and I want you for my own.”

Harry’s face softened at the pure emotion Blaise’s eyes held. He leaned forward, blocking the assassin from view, protecting his future mate’s emotions, and cherishing their beauty. “Do you really mean that?” Blaise choked out.

Harry gazed into the watery brown eyes and dropped every barrier that held his emotions at bay, letting Blaise completely inside for the first time of many that would come. There was no reason for Blaise to feel insecure or unsure, he wanted his fiancé to know that he had been chosen for love, not for rank, not for heritage, but for himself.

Blaise couldn’t tear his gaze away from the swimming green eyes. They opened to him and showed him the truth, reality. He was loved. His hand reached up to cup Harry’s face, and they sat for several minutes, doing nothing but speaking with their eyes. Sharing all that their hearts and souls had to share. His hand slid down to clasp Harry’s and the two assassins rose from the booth, turning with emotionless eyes to face the crowded room. With precise movements they swept away from the other wizards and witches, walking silently through the snow up to Hogwarts.

Blaise tugged Harry’s hand leading him down to the lake that was frozen over. With a casual twist of his wrist their boots had blades on the bottom becoming ice-skates. He led the smaller man out onto the ice. Their hands were entwined as they sped across the frozen surface, treasuring the company of their fiancé and companion, the person who had won their heart.

They stopped in the middle of the lake and reached into their pockets, removing the Burning Fire candies they had purchased at Zonko’s. They unwrapped the sweets and fed them to each other. Harry and Blaise saw the exact same thing, their hands clasped, engraved with runes, joined as one, forever.

Harry reached up and placed his hands on Blaise’s shoulders, smiling slightly as the larger Slytherin wrapped both arms around his waist. Their locked eyes spoke the words for them. ‘I love you.’ The kiss was tentative, tender, and sweet, a meeting of lips that bespoke their owner’s feelings. The two assassins fell into one another, secure in the knowledge that their beloved would keep them safe.

--

115 Rule Twenty: Assassins must use all available resources.

It was during the third week in February that Harry approached Neville after classes one day. His eyes widened slightly as he saw the engraved runes on Neville’s left hand. His lips lifted in the barest hint of a smile and he spoke, “Congratulations on your bonding, Neville.”

The honeyed eyes warmed and shone as a blush spread across his skin. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Are you pleased with your choice?”

“Very pleased. Draco is a great wizard. A great assassin.”

“Yes, he is,” Harry, agreed. “Was he…”

Neville’s blush flamed across his face. “He was very gentle.”

“Then I’m pleased I made the right decision in allowing him to court you,” Harry responded.

“As am I,” Neville stated. He gazed at Harry. “How can I help you, Harry?”

Harry continued walking with Neville at his side, leading the young man down into the Slytherin common room. “I need your assistance with something.”

“I will assist in any way that I can,” Neville instantly answered.

“I need you to keep watch,” Harry drawled as they entered his empty dorm.

“Keep watch?” Neville queried.

“Yes, I have something I must do and I absolutely cannot be interrupted or the results will be fatal. I’ll be warding the room, but I need you as extra insurance. Also – for after.”

“After?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “You will understand after it’s all over.

“Very well, I trust you Harry and if you need my help I’m only too happy to offer it,” Neville replied.

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry stated. With deft movements, he removed one of his daggers and focused his magic, warding the room from intrusion and silencing the chamber as well. He cast a protective charm over Neville not sure how what he planned to do would react to another person in the room, and then strolled over to his bed removing the many books and parchments from underneath it.

Harry settled onto the floor and unrolled the scrolls, arranging them around himself in a very precise order and pattern. “Harry, are you…”

“Yes, Neville,” Harry interrupted.

“By yourself?” Neville’s voice was distinctively worried. 116 “Not exactly,” Harry drawled.

The books and parchments continued to be arranged in a specific pattern as the assassin moved with concise precision, forcing himself to concentrate and make no mistakes. When everything was prepared to his satisfaction he turned to Neville and said, “I don’t have to tell you that I need you to be silent, do I?”

“No, Harry,” Neville stated. “I won’t interrupt you.”

“Good.” That word seemed to shed all hesitation and nervousness Harry may have been feeling as he freed his magical aura. Neville watched the assassin he considered his best friend as sweat began to appear on Harry’s brow. The young man was sitting in place, not moving at all. A moment later Harry’s hands reached for the parchment, tracing the runes one at a time forcing magic into them. Neville watched as two colors slipped from Harry’s fingertips, strengthening the runes and making them glow even brighter than before.

Sweat began pouring down Harry’s face as his eyes followed the series of runes without error; his teeth were clenched from the pain of forging the spell using two very different magical auras. He slowly shifted in place, following the parchment from one to the next, determined to complete the spell he had spent the past several months slaving over. The spell that would change everything. The spell that would only work for him.

The tip of his finger grew raw as it continued the path it had been set upon energizing the runes one at a time. He cut off the second magical aura the moment he reached the last rune, breathing heavily as the runes shifted, destroying the paper, and turning into a swirling mass of ebony light. With a shaky exhausted arm, Harry reached forth and slid his hand into the wild mass of magic. “Creo Verus!” he gasped, before falling unconscious to the ground. The black magic swirled sharply before sinking down into Harry’s chest and making his body its home.

“Harry!” Neville cried, diving towards his friend, ignoring the feeling of the wards being torn to shreds.

--

Voldemort was gazing at his assembled Death Eaters when he felt a light itching sensation in his mind. He followed the feeling. “Potter?” his voice showed a slight amount of shock.

“Voldemort,” Harry answered, inclining his head slightly to the Dark Lord.

“I would ask how you’re in my head, but with your skills I’m not surprised you somehow managed it,” the wizard drawled.

“Indeed,” Harry smirked.

“Well then, what is it you need?” he asked calculatingly.

“I’ve come across a few ancient runes that I had never seen before. Our project last semester was to create a spell, and I’ve been working on a new one.” Harry’s visage was solemn. “I managed to create the base of a spell that I know can be used to kill Dumbledore without any suspicion falling on either of us.”

“But?” Voldemort stated dangerously, a contemplative look on his face.

“But the runes are ancient and it will require more power than I possess to create the spell myself,” Harry stated.

117 Voldemort’s forehead crinkled slightly as he gazed into the vicious yet honest eyes before his own. “You want me to help you create this spell.”

“Indeed,” Harry drawled.

“You want me to allow you access to my power through our minds.”

“I do,” Harry agreed.

“And in return for this…”

“I will bring you Dumbledore’s corpse as an Easter Gift,” Harry interrupted.

Voldemort’s eyes bore into Harry. “Your word.”

“I, Harry James Evans Potter, do hereby swear on my magic, that if the wizard known as Lord Voldemort lends me power to create this spell, I will present to him the deceased body of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore on the Easter Holiday of this year. On my magic, I so swear.”

Voldemort’s snake-like visage smirked in malicious pleasure. “Access to my power is yours, Potter.”

“Thank you, Voldemort,” Harry respectfully answered. “I’ll see you at Easter.”

Voldemort’s attention returned to the present, the evil grin that crept across his face made the Death Eaters tremble in terror. He could feel the Potter boy tugging his magic from his body in a continuous stream, pushing and molding it into a solid form.

“It looks as if you have received good news, my Lord,” Lucius stated neutrally, his gaze lowered.

“Indeed,” Voldemort smirked. “The Potter boy has found a way to get rid of the meddling fool.”

“That light child doesn’t have the power to kill…”

The masked Death Eater’s words ended in a high-pitched scream as she was placed under the Cruciatus Curse. “Potter is not what you may assume,” Voldemort drawled cruelly. He watched the twitching figure gleefully. “He’s just as dark as I am.”

“He will be a good ally,” Lucius stated. His breath caught in his throat as the wand twitched over towards him.

“I’m the only one who has the right to decide if someone is my ally,” Voldemort snarled.

“Of course, my Lord,” Lucius said, dropping to his knees. “Forgive me for assuming to know your mind.”

“Be careful, Lucius,” Voldemort smirked, “you’re not as special as you think you are.”

“Of course not, my Lord,” Lucius answered, “forgive me for forgetting my place.”

Voldemort sagged slightly at the drain on his magical reserves. “Your apologies are so pretty, my Lucius.” His shoulders drooped more noticeably. “Leave me, all of you. Bellatrix, my pet, you will stay.”

“Yes, master,” she stated, her eyes shining with fervor. 118 The moment the other Death Eaters had disappeared, he gasped and almost collapsed. “Master!” she cried rushing towards him.

“Return me to my room,” he ordered.

“Of course, master,” Bellatrix answered. The witch flicked her dagger and carefully levitated the Dark Lord through the corridors and into his bedchamber, ensuring he was comfortable before leaving. A malicious gleeful smirk appeared on her face as she walked out of the manor snickering to herself. “Well played, young master, well played.” The assassin disappeared.

--

Blaise was talking with Severus and Draco when he felt a sharp prickling sensation travel up his spine. His jaw clenched in rage as he realized what he was sensing. “Harry,” he snarled, leaping to his feet and rushing through the corridors with Draco and Severus on his heels. The three assassins burst into the common room, silencing those present and hurried up the steps. They found themselves outside of the seventh-year boys’ dormitory and all three of them could sense the powerful wards that surrounded the room and feel the waves of magic that seeped through the shields.

They reached forward and fought the magic unable to gain entrance. A snarl of rage tore from Blaise’s throat, something was wrong with Harry; he could feel Harry’s magic fading. He jerked around at the sound of footsteps and watched Luna leading Sirius Black up the staircase. The three assassins instantly swept to the side, allowing Sirius to approach.

Sirius slit his palm and placed it against the door, working his blood into the wards and destroying them from the inside out. He was sure the task would have been more difficult if Harry had been fighting him, but there was no conscious resistance. It took him precisely three minutes to tear the wards apart, and the moment they were down Blaise threw open the door, rushing inside to see Neville crouched down next to an unconscious Harry.

“What happened?” he growled, not noticing the way he seemed to partially shift into his Animagus form.

“He was creating a spell,” Neville stated carefully, stepping back into Draco’s protective embrace. “He wanted me to be here to make sure no one interrupted.”

“Do you know what could have happening to him?” the lethal voice hissed in a coughing-grunt sound that should not be possible to make with human vocal cords.

“It was his secret project,” Neville whispered. “I think he can destroy Voldemort with it.”

Blaise carefully picked Harry up and placed the young man on his bed, tucking the covers around the exhausted form. When Severus approached the bed to assess Harry’s condition Blaise completely lost control of himself and shifted into his jaguar, snarling in rage and swiping his claws at the man who dared to approach his injured mate. Severus quickly leapt backwards, barely avoiding the razor-sharp claws.

Sirius went to step forward when Severus grabbed his arm. “Think for a minute, Black,” he snarled. “I’m a feline Animagus and he has known me for years, do you really think he’ll let a canine Animagus he doesn’t know near his injured mate?”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed at Severus’ tone of voice, but he couldn’t really object to the statement, no matter how 119 much he wished he could. Harry had known that Sirius had been a part of the team that rescued him, but he had asked for some time to work through his previous feelings. Sirius had hoped that Harry would be ready to see him today, and instead he had come across his godson’s magically exhausted body.

Pansy and Bella appeared in the doorway. “What in the world is…” Their words cut off as they gazed upon the sight before them.

Bella absorbed the situation. “What happened to my Harry?” her voice shook with anger.

“He was creating a new spell and drained his magical reserves,” Neville answered.

The small girl’s eyes snapped to Neville. “I see,” she hissed.

“Mr. Malfoy, go inform your year mates that the dorm will be unavailable for the next few days. Professor Snape, please inform the staff that Harry, Blaise, and Bella will be unable to attend classes, Miss Parkinson please show Mr. Black to Professor Lupin’s quarters. They have much to discuss,” Luna ordered.

The group of assassins blinked at her in shock before complying with her instructions. Bella clambered up into the bed beside Harry, her worried eyes fading slightly as Blaise gently rubbed his fur against her face. She snuggled down against Harry, determination in every bone of her body. Harry was going to get better. Blaise wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her Harry. No, not her Harry. Not anymore. He was their Harry now.

--

Draco and Neville walked down the staircase and addressed the Slytherins. “The seventh-year boys’ dormitory will be inaccessible for the next few days, you will need to bunk with the younger students.”

“Is everyone okay?” Theo asked worriedly.

“They will be,” was the quiet answer Draco gave.

Every Slytherin in the room tensed at those words. Those words that said, ‘No, they are not okay.’ Something was wrong. One of the Slytherins was hurt, or damaged, and judging by the parade that had come through the common room that person was Harry Potter.

“But he will be okay?” Theo’s voice demanded. He had become very fond of the assassin.

“Yes,” Neville answered the question, “he’ll be okay.”

The Slytherins relaxed slightly at those words. Longbottom would never lie to them. Potter was going to be fine.

--

Luna followed Severus through the hallways silently. “It was smart of you to find Black and bring him to the dungeons to remove the wards.”

Her lips tilted slightly at the rare compliment. “I couldn’t have you and Blaise harming yourselves trying to gain entrance.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Severus whispered, allowing emotion to seep into his voice. No one had ever cared about 120 him before. Not in a great many years. It was nice to know that someone cared if he were injured, odd, but nice.

“You’re welcome, Severus,” she answered, understanding the emotions he felt.

The Obsidian bowed before his future mate and swept into the staff room, informing them of the sudden illness of three of his Slytherins. He instantly refused all offers to move them to the infirmary.

--

Pansy led the silent man through the halls of Hogwarts. “I never did get the chance to thank you for saving my life,” she stated.

Sirius glanced over at the Slytherin. “There is no need for you to thank me,” he replied, for once serious.

“Regardless, you have my thanks,” she answered.

“You’re welcome,” the man responded, lost in his thoughts.

They reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and Pansy left him there, staring at the door. Sirius took a deep breath and knocked, gazing into the amber eyes that were revealed when the door opened. “Moony,” he breathed.

--

Rule Twenty-One: An assassin may only bond with another assassin.

Harry didn’t regain consciousness for five days. During that time everyone stayed away from the room the three Slytherins were in; Blaise, in jaguar form, viciously attacked those who were foolish enough to attempt to enter.

Harry shifted slightly on the bed drawing the attention of the Zabini siblings. His bleary eyes slowly opened gazing at the two assassins. “Blaise?” he asked, voice rough from exhaustion and rest. He smiled slightly at the rumbling purr that he received in response. His hand rose and landed on the soft fur, caressing it as Blaise regained his human form.

Neither assassin paid attention to Bella slipping from the room to inform everyone that Harry was now awake. Blaise’s voice still contained a measure of the rumbling growl as he demanded, “Never do such a foolish thing again!”

“It was something that had to be done,” Harry answered, his voice gaining strength.

“You could have at least warned me,” Blaise stated harshly. “I had no idea you were attempting anything and then all of a sudden I could feel your magic draining away.”

“I didn’t want you to worry…”

“Well you failed!” Blaise snarled. “I have spent the last five days terrified,” he choked out, tears coming to his eyes. “I had no idea when you were going to wake up, if you were going to wake up. You were so still.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Blaise and pulled the man down against him. “I’m sorry,” his voice held

121 sincerity. “I didn’t think the spell would take that much power to create.”

“That spell better be a matter of life and death.”

“It is, I’ll be able to kill the living Horcruxes with this spell,” Harry replied.

“What does it do?” Blaise demanded, wanting to know what had caused his suffering the last three days.

“Anything I want it to,” Harry answered.

“What?”

“Creo Verus, to make real,” Harry stated. “I will be able to do anything that I can imagine.”

Blaise’s eyes widened at those words. A spell of such power – should not exist. The temptation to use such a spell would be exponentially larger than that of the Avada Kedavra. “Tell me you didn’t set it free.”

“I didn’t set it free,” Harry instantly agreed.

Before Blaise could say anything else, Bella, Draco, Neville, and Regulus entered the room. The little girl clambered onto the bed and snuggled against Harry’s side. “Don’t worry us like that again!” she ordered in a quavering voice.

“I won’t,” he promised.

“You completed it then?” Regulus queried.

“Yes, father. Voldemort will fall when we’re ready.”

“Well done, my son.” His eyes hardened. “Do not attempt something like that without Blaise or myself present in the future.”

“I have no plans to ever do that again so there shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry dutifully replied.

Blaise rose from the bed and beckoned Regulus off to the side as Draco and Neville approached Harry. “It’s good to see that you are well again, Harry. You frightened me,” Neville whispered.

“I’m sorry, Nev. I didn’t expect to be so magically drained.”

Draco addressed Harry, “I apologize for asking when you have just awoken, but my parents managed to come today and I was hoping that you are feeling well enough for the presentation.”

A small smile graced Harry’s lips as he answered, “Of course, it would be my pleasure; allow me a few moments to make myself more presentable and then bring them up here if you would.” At Draco’s nod of agreement he rose and headed into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, and luxuriated in the feel of the hot water pounding into his tired muscles.

He smiled at Neville in thanks as the Gryffindor appeared with a change of clothes and tugged the garments on. He sat on one of the benches and allowed Neville to dry, brush, and braid his hair. The small shivers he felt from the Gryffindor made him smile. “There’s no need to worry. They will love you,” he stated calmly and decisively. 122 Neville relaxed and whispered, “If you say so, then I will believe it.”

“Good, because it’s the truth,” Harry answered, rising to his feet and leading Neville into the dormitory. He walked over to the Malfoys and began the presentation. “Heir Malfoy,” he stated, clasping Draco’s hand firmly in his own.

“Lord Potter,” Draco replied, inclining his head respectfully.

“Lady Malfoy,” Harry said, kissing the woman’s palm as he raised it to his mouth.

“Lord Potter,” Narcissa spoke smiling at the Ivory Daggered Assassin.

“Lord Malfoy,” Harry drawled cheekily, bowing before the man.

“Lord Potter,” Lucius sneered, eyes twinkling in amusement as he returned the bow.

Harry’s face became solemn as he beckoned Neville to his side. “Moonless Night, I present you to your father, Deceptive Poison.”

Neville clasped Lucius’ hand and spoke, “Father.”

“My son,” Lucius answered.

“Moonless Night, I present you to your mother, Glacial Requiem.”

Neville stepped into the woman’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Mother.”

“My son,” Narcissa answered her voice full of pleasure.

“Moonless Night, I present you to your chosen Dominant, Scarlet Death.”

“Draco,” Neville breathed snuggling into the blond.

“My sweet,” Draco answered, lightly stroking the braid that hung down Neville’s back.

“I relinquish my rights and charge you with his care,” Harry stated.

“He will be well cared for,” they instantly replied. Harry watched with a pleased smile as the Malfoys led their newest member from the room so that they could become better acquainted.

--

Blaise and the Assassin Lord headed over to the side of the room as the other guests approached Harry. “What can I do for you?” Regulus drawled.

“Do you have the time to witness the collection of my Utpote Indicium?” Blaise asked.

Regulus lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, and what have you found, Obsidian, that is worthy of my son?”

Blaise smirked. “Ronald Weasley is currently in possession of an invisibility cloak that belonged to Harry’s 123 biological father. I overheard the fool mentioning it.”

“Indeed,” Regulus drawled.

“It’s a family heirloom. James Potter was the last living descendant of the Peverell Line,” Blaise said.

“Very well chosen, I shall accompany you.” The two assassins left the room as Harry headed into the bathroom, walking down the staircase. Regulus disillusioned himself and followed Blaise out of the dungeons and across the school to the Gryffindor Tower. Regulus extended one of his Thestral Bone Daggers, touching it to the frame of the portrait, overriding the need for a password.

Blaise stepped confidently into the Gryffindor common room with an invisible Regulus behind him. The gossiping and games stopped as the students realized that someone from another house had inexplicably gained entrance to their sacred domain. Hermione Granger abruptly broke the silence. “How did you manage to get in here?”

“That is of little importance,” Blaise replied.

“You’re a Slytherin and you’re in our common room!” Ron exclaimed. “If Neville is giving out the password, I swear…”

“No one gave me the password,” Blaise interrupted.

“Then how did you get in?” Hermione demanded curiously.

“I already told you, that is of little importance,” Blaise repeated turning away from the annoying witch. He noticed the knowing look in some of the students’ eyes and smirked.

“What are you doing here you slimy snake?” Ron snarled, raising his wand threateningly.

Blaise cocked an ebony eyebrow and spoke, “Under Article 93 of the Pure-blood Lineage Act, Section 8, Paragraph 6, the possession of a family heirloom not belonging to the possessor is punishable with a fine of 10,000 Galleons and up to two years in Azkaban Prison.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Hermione queried.

Blaise’s dark eyes never left Ron Weasley’s paling face. “I happen to know that Mr. Weasley has possession of an invisibility cloak that rightfully belongs to Harry Potter.”

“Ron, you told me that was a gift from the Headmaster!” Hermione cried.

“It was,” Ron defended, “it just happens to not have been his.”

Hermione gazed at her boyfriend in shock. Was he really that thick? Had he believed that no one would ever discover its true origins?

“I’m willing to overlook reporting this to the Ministry if the cloak is turned over to me immediately,” Blaise stated.

Seamus headed up the stairs and disappeared into the dormitory as Ron opened his mouth and spat, “How do we know you won’t keep it for yourself?” 124 Blaise’s eyes shifted to black in rage. How dare that whelp call him a thief! Seamus quickly descended the staircase and handed the invisibility cloak to Blaise. “Ignore him,” Seamus stated, “the fool has no idea what he’s talking about.” Blaise nodded briefly to Seamus, glared in hatred once more at Ron, and left the common room with Regulus following him.

Seamus whirled around and snapped, “Weasley, are you mental?”

“I can’t believe you said that!” Hermione agreed.

“What?” Ron defended himself. “Zabini is a slimy Slytherin, and we all know that they only care about themselves. He’ll probably keep the cloak for himself.”

“You can’t really believe that,” Hermione stated.

“I do!” Ron exclaimed.

“Weasley, you’re a complete and utter moron,” Seamus drawled. “If Zabini kept the cloak he would be breaking the same law and it would be him who would be facing those consequences.”

Hermione stared at her gob-smacked boyfriend. “Honestly Ronald, you should have realized that,” she snapped smacking him over the head.

“Besides,” Dean interrupted, “I heard that Zabini and Potter are engaged. I doubt he would keep it for himself.” At the silence that met his statement, the young man blinked in shock. “What, you hadn’t heard yet?” The students were too stunned to shake their heads.

--

The two assassins headed back down to the dungeons and arrived at the Slytherin common room in time to see the Malfoys leaving it with Neville. They nodded to each other in passing and entered, returning to the boys’ dormitory. They slipped inside and Regulus dropped the charm, briefly hugging Harry.

When Harry stared at him curiously, Blaise stepped forward and presented the cloak. “I offer unto you this gift as my Utpote Indicium. It is a cloak of invisibility that belonged to your biological father, who received it from his father and so on until its original owner, Ignotus Peverell.” At the pleased and yet curious look in Harry’s eyes he stated, “Ronald Weasley was in possession of it, I retrieved it for you.”

A brief flash of distaste crossed his face at the name before he smiled at Blaise. “It’s acceptable,” Harry stated, grinning as he watched the tension leave Blaise’s muscles. He turned and placed the cloak inside his trunk and bowed to his father as the man left the room.

Harry then turned to Blaise; he took the Obsidian’s hand and led him down the steps and out of the common room. They walked over to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and Harry hissed, “Lord Slytherin, may we be permitted entrance to your personal chambers for our bonding ceremony?”

“Yes, little Ivory, you may. May your runes be heart-felt and true.”

“May my dagger stay steady,” Harry responded, gently pulling Blaise with him into the room that was revealed when the portrait opened. When the portrait closed behind them, Harry smirked and wandlessly transformed their clothing into ceremonial robes. Harry’s were white satin, denoting his rank, with black edging, denoting 125 the rank of his fiancé. Likewise, Blaise’s robes were black satin with white edging, the only time anyone other than an Ivory wore such robes.

“Are you sure?” Blaise breathed, gazing into Harry’s eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation.

“I’m sure,” Harry answered. “I choose you. You have proven your worth to me countless times. You match my skills in chess, when we duel it is always a draw, your academic proficiency is well above average, you are unfailingly polite, courteous, and respectful. I want you as my mate.”

A large grin spread across Blaise’s face at the words and he grasped one of his Obsidian Daggers, holding it carefully as he took Harry’s left hand in his own. With deft precision and steady strokes he began carving the bonding runes into Harry’s flesh.

“Fidelity: I pledge my body to you and you alone.”

“Trust: I pledge to never betray you.”

“Honor: I pledge to listen to your counsel.”

“Respect: I pledge to treat you as you deserve.”

“Family: I pledge to give you as many children as you wish for.”

“Protection: I pledge to watch over you and keep you safe.”

“Companionship: I pledge to always be at your side when you need me.”

“Security: I pledge to provide financial support to you and any children we may have.”

“Love: I pledge my heart to you in this life and the next.” As his dagger finished the last symbol, the runes glowed brightly and instantly healed, becoming an obsidian shadow on his flesh.

Harry lifted one of his Ivory Daggers and repeated the vows one at a time, carving the corresponding runes into Blaise’s skin. As he reached the end of the ‘love’ rune, the symbols lit up and healed into Blaise’s flesh, glowing like ivory against his darkness. They lifted the bloody daggers to their lips and licked them clean, shuddering as the bond sealed and their minds and souls shifted, clashing, and binding together. Their memories were open to their bonded and Harry smiled as he felt the link with Voldemort shatter. He was free. He was Blaise’s.

The magic slowly calmed, releasing the two assassins from its grasp and Harry collapsed against Blaise, relishing in the feel of the strong arms holding him close. He locked gazes with his husband and he rose to his tiptoes pressing his lips against Blaise’s. The kiss was a mere brushing of lips, a light caress, a fragile touch. He pulled his head back and gazed into those burning love-filled eyes, drowning in the need and tenderness they held.

Blaise tightened his arms around Harry, pulling the smaller man closer to his chest, embracing his husband. He leant down and captured the lips, tenderly nipping at them until Harry opened to him. Blaise slid his tongue into the warm cavern of Harry’s mouth, coaxing Harry to duel with him. Their tongues twisted and fought, battled fiercely and lovingly against each other in the desire to be closer, to be one.

Blaise pulled Harry even closer, running his hands up and down the muscled back of his smaller mate, 126 entwining his fingers in the luscious hair, and slowly unwound the braid that kept it locked away from him. He grinned against the greedy lips as Harry copied his actions freeing the mass of ebony locks that resided on his own head.

With sure, but gentle hands, the two assassins removed the cloaks they were covered in, revealing their bare flesh to each other’s eyes. Their breath caught in their throats as they gazed upon the beauty that was their mate. With tentative nervous hands, they slowly reached forward and caressed each other’s chests, feeling the play of muscles as they sucked in a sharp breath. Blaise reach forward and pulled Harry against him once again, groaning at the feel of bare skin against his own.

Blaise lowered his head and nibbled along Harry’s jaw, sharply biting his neck as Harry whimpered in pleasure. He ran his hands along the smooth skin, mapping the planes of his mate’s body as he marked the flesh as his own. He swung Harry up in his arms and carried the younger assassin over to the bed, gently placing him in the middle of the mattress, before quickly joining him.

He lay next to Harry and stroked the skin slowly, trailing his fingers down to meet Harry’s straining flesh. “Blaise!” Harry cried, moaning in ecstasy as Blaise’s fingers teasingly ran along his length. “Please,” Harry all but demanded, dragging Blaise’s mouth down to meet his once again, devouring the larger man. Their tongues dueled and battled as Blaise’s fingers continued to caress and taunt the straining flesh.

With a devilish smirk, he drew his mouth away from Harry’s and kissed his way down the pale chest, nibbling and licking the small-pebbled nipples as he came to them. He scrapped his teeth across the slightly defined stomach muscles, and pleased with the way they twitched as he teased them. His travel finally ended when he found himself at eye-level with Harry’s burning erection. He lightly ran his hand across the head of it, grinning upwards as Harry hissed in pleasure.

With no warning, he extended his tongue and swiped it across the leaking slit tasting Harry’s flesh for the first time. Blaise and Harry groaned in pleasure, one from the taste, one from the tactile stimulation he was receiving. Blaise’s tongue began working Harry slowly, licking the burgeoning flesh at a slow pace. Tormenting the younger man.

His hands ran up Harry’s legs shifting them to the side, allowing him access to that which he sought. His fingertips traced the cleft of his mate’s arse as they sought the treasure hidden within, the little rosette that guarded Harry’s virginity. Blaise cast a silent Lubrication Charm when he found it, gently massaging the ring of muscle. As he slid one finger into the warm depths of his mate, he swallowed Harry to the root, distracting the younger assassin from any pain the action may cause.

Blaise slowly worked that finger in and out of Harry’s arse, sliding in a second when he believed Harry was ready. The muscles briefly clamped down hard on his fingers before slightly relaxing, allowing him a wider range of movement. He carefully began spreading his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching the small ring of muscle and sliding in a third finger never stopping his attention on Harry’s erection. Harry’s moans and mewls of pleasure spurred him on, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the tight depths claiming Harry as his own.

He renewed his efforts on swallowing Harry’s erection whole. Then said assassin buried his fingers in Blaise’s hair, pulling the man away from his flesh. “No,” Harry croaked.

“It will be easier if…”

“No,” Harry repeated. “Not until you’re inside me.”

127 Blaise shuddered and cast another Lubrication Charm, this time on his erection, as he shifted up Harry’s body settling over the other man. “Are you sure?” he demanded to know.

“Yes,” Harry replied; his eyes held no hesitation.

Blaise lifted Harry’s hips, spread his legs further, and pressed against that ring of muscle, struggling until he was permitted inside. He stilled the moment the head of his erection had sunk into Harry, the harsh gasp of the man beneath him freezing his actions. “Are you okay?” Blaise panted, fighting against the urge to pound into the small tight depths that were torturously clamping down on him. Harry nodded and the muscles relaxed slightly, allowing Blaise to press further into un-chartered territory.

He sank into Harry until the burning walls swallowed his entire length and froze, allowing Harry to become accustomed to the feeling of being filled. Harry squirmed slightly beneath him and gasped as a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. “B-Blaise,” he gasped.

That was all the permission Blaise needed; he slowly withdrew and then carefully slid back in, brushing against Harry’s prostate and making the young man mewl in delight. A grin spread across his face as he repeated the action and was rewarded with another delightful sound. With controlled strokes and the thought that he must not harm Harry firmly in mind, Blaise continued to slowly thrust into the warm depths, claiming them as his. Marking Harry with love bites and teeth marks.

Their flesh slid together for what seemed like days as they expressed their love with actions instead of words, showing their mate exactly how much they were treasured. When the two men couldn’t hold back any longer, they erupted in each other’s arms, marking their husband as their own. They collapsed together and Blaise pulled Harry close to his chest spooning behind the smaller male as he rained kisses upon the ebony hair. They drifted off to sleep content and satisfied, their hearts overflowing with love.

--

Rule Twenty-Two: Assassins must guarantee that justice is served.

The next morning the two Slytherins exited Salazar’s personal chambers with their hands entwined. They calmly walked to the Slytherin Dueling Chambers and arrived a few minutes before everyone else. Harry and Blaise leaned back against the nearest wall in silence, there were no words necessary this morning; they had said everything they needed to with their bodies the night before. They watched with impassive eyes as the room began to fill with students.

Draco and Neville caught sight of them and hurried over to the two silent figures. A smile blossomed across their faces as they noticed the engraved runes on their friends’ left hands. “May your life be filled with happiness and success,” they instantly stated.

Harry inclined his head to the two assassins. “Thank you.”

A mischievous smirk appeared on Draco’s face. “I do believe you owe me five Galleons, my sweet,” he drawled, looking at Neville.

A blush bloomed on the pale features. “How did you know they were going to bond within three days of Harry waking up?”

Draco began ticking points off his fingers. “Harry has always intrigued Blaise, he was the only person to ever

128 catch Blaise’s attention. Blaise got invited to the Gala and won the right to court him. Then Harry was kidnapped shortly afterwards, threatening their union. Not many days after that I needed him to witness the retrieval of your Utpote Indicium, so he was away from Blaise yet again. And then he just created that spell that drained his magical reserves. All of that was sure to make Blaise insanely possessive and create the need to claim Harry as soon as possible. Harry, having already chosen Blaise, understood this and allowed them to bond.”

At Neville’s questioning look Harry nodded. “He speaks the truth.” Neville sighed and handed the coins over to his smirking mate.

“Never bet against a Malfoy, my sweet, you will always lose.”

Neville grinned amusedly. “I’m a Malfoy now,” Neville drawled walking away from the slightly stunned look on Draco’s face.

Blaise and Harry snickered at the blond as he stood in shock for a moment, before a pleased and proud smirk spread across his face. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy had chosen very well indeed.

Snape stalked into the room with his usual dour look, though he seemed slightly more irritated than normal this morning. His eyes noticed Harry and Blaise’s clasped hands and a slight smile briefly flitted across his face before vanishing. “I have decided that today will be a special training session,” he sneered. “I do not expect many of you to understand or appreciate what you are about to witness, but hopefully some of you will grasp the concept and strive to work harder than you have been,” he drawled. “There is nothing easy about being an assassin. For those of you who want to increase your rank and earn your name, you will have to apply yourself diligently to your lessons. I believe that some of you will benefit from seeing what you may someday become if you work seriously.”

He glanced at Harry and Blaise briefly, waiting for them to nod in approval before continuing. “Today you will be blessed with the sight of a melee battle. Harry and Blaise will fight against all of the Platinums at once.” He smirked as they sharply drew in a breath. “Hopefully some of you will realize exactly how great our society can make us, and how great we can make ourselves.”

The lower ranked assassins stood off to the side as the eleven participants gingerly began to stretch their muscles. With deliberate movements, they prepared themselves for the coming battle, knowing without a doubt that it would most likely be the fiercest they had ever participated in, at least for the Platinums. When they were all ready to go, the nine Platinums encircled the two Warriors and began their attack.

Mandy Brocklehurst rushed Harry’s back as Michael Corner raced towards Harry’s left side. They raised their daggers and stabbed forward, Harry twisted in place, avoiding the daggers and barely ducking away from the kick Ernie Macmillan aimed at his head. His left hand shot out, catching Michael in the back as his right foot connected with Ernie’s knee, though the Hufflepuff shrugged off the hit and kept his feet. Mandy used his momentary distraction to slice open the lower part of his right arm, though she regretted her actions a moment later when her wrist was caught and the dagger was twisted to her neck. The Ravenclaw conceded defeat and left the match.

Harry’s legs went out from under him as Hannah Abbot slid across the floor, crashing into his feet. He fell on the Hufflepuff and rolled to the side, dodging the dagger she had raised in her right fist. He gained his feet just as Millicent Bulstrode appeared behind him and punched him harshly in the kidneys. Harry gasped sharply and bent slightly, missing the punch Michael had aimed at his head; the Ravenclaw’s fist connected with Millicent’s surprised face and she was removed from the melee battle as she fell to the floor unconscious.

129 Hannah caught his left arm with the tip of her dagger and Harry sighed in annoyance as the blood slid down his arm and made his hand wet. He grasped his own dagger and snagged the girl’s braid, fisting it and jerking around so that she was shielding him from Ernie’s assault. He shoved her forward and the two Hufflepuffs crashed into each other falling to the floor. He smirked at the sharp sound that echoed through the room as Ernie’s head met with the stone floor.

Blaise leapt to the side, avoiding Susan Bones’ Platinum Dagger as the small Hufflepuff girl moved around him. Her sense of balance was perfect and she practically danced around the Obsidian, striking out at him. He dodged the blows and extended his arm, cutting open her leg as he dove, sliced, and regained his feet. Her sharp cry and the blood let him know he had succeeded. He shifted towards her and suddenly found his gaze locked with Pansy’s. Blaise froze in place as her Bloodline Gift activated, mesmerizing him. Michael Corner was approaching the frozen form from behind when an Ivory Dagger came flying through the air, embedding itself in Pansy’s arm. Her sharp cry of pain broke the spell and Blaise was freed.

He spun around and raised his fist, smashing it into the Ravenclaw’s jaw, smirking as the younger man toppled to the floor. His dark fathomless eyes glanced over at Neville and Draco who were patiently watching the fight. A smirk spread across his face, good tactic, wait, and allow other’s to tire the prey, then pounce. He snickered as he slid across the floor, yanking the Ivory Dagger from Pansy’s flesh and slamming the handle into the back of her head removing her from the fight.

In unison, Harry and Blaise grasped the Hufflepuff girls’ braids and pulled them to their chests, pressing a dagger against their throats. “We yield,” they coughed. Hannah and Susan stepped away from the battle, pleased that they had lasted so long, their adrenalin was still pouring through their veins, flooding their bodies with excitement and the need to act.

Harry and Blaise turned as one to observe the only remaining fighters, Draco and Neville. Their heavy breathing echoed in the nearly silent room, the real battle was just beginning. Harry caught the bloody Ivory Dagger that was thrown to him and grinned in pleasure at his two friends. And so it would be done. One moment four assassins stood ready in the room, the next moment they were replaced by four large predators.

Without a thought, the Dominants and Submissives separated, seeking to battle against the creature that most closely matched their size. Harry’s ocelot crouched low and crept slowly across the floor, never taking it’s burning eyes off of the golden-furred lynx that was Neville. The two cats circled each other slowly, sniffing the air and tasting the difference in scents. Neville’s paw shot out, swiping across Harry’s furred side, and the battle had begun.

The ocelot snarled in rage and dove forward, raking its claws along the lynx’s back, drawing blood in furrows. The lynx roared and leapt, landed on the ocelot, and sank its fangs into the black fur, drawing blood. The ocelot twisted and snapped, sinking his fangs into the lynx’s front paw causing the golden cat to fall to the floor. He quickly clamped his jaws around the tender neck, refusing to release the fallen form until it shifted back into a human. Harry quickly released his hold as the tender human flesh replaced the tougher fur, his tongue gently lapped at the wounds.

Sharp growls drew his attention to the other fighters. Draco had become a large snow leopard and bared his fangs as he faced off against the muscled black jaguar. The two Dominants leapt at each other, snarling and tearing at one another with their fangs and claws. They raked and sliced, ripping open the flesh that faced them and covered the floor in blood. In this form, they were equal in strength and size, and Draco might have actually won, if Harry hadn’t leapt across the floor and slammed into his hindquarters, throwing Draco off balance long enough for Blaise to get a stranglehold on his jugular.

The blond slowly regained his form and was released from the lethal fangs. The room was silent as the crowd of 130 assassin students gazed in awe at the bloodied forms of the two cats that were shifting back into Blaise and Harry. They stood before the mass of people strong, undefeated, and proud.

“And that,” Snape drawled, “is what hard work can achieve.” His statement was met with silence that was quickly broken by the thunderous applause of the audience. Severus strode forward and handed out Healing Potions, Pain Reliever Potions, and Blood-Replenishing Potions, deftly sealing all of the wounds that had been created in the battle.

The nine Platinums walked up to Blaise and Harry, bowed at the waist, and exclaimed, “That was the best fight. Thank you.”

The Ivory and Obsidian smiled. “Indeed, it was quite enjoyable.”

--

It was a group of contemplative students, which headed off to prepare for breakfast. They understood Snape’s point now, only those who work hard can be great. They showered and dressed, their minds still distracted by the battle replaying the scenes repeatedly. They entered the Great Hall and settled down at their tables, vowing to push themselves even harder in the hopes that they would someday reach even a portion of the greatness which they had seen today.

“…lle. Neville!” Hermione snapped.

The Gryffindor’s head jerked up. “Yes, Hermione?”

“You spend quite a bit of time with Potter, don’t you?” she queried.

“Yes,” Neville replied.

“So you would say that you know him well,” Dean interrupted.

Neville nodded. “Yes, I know him fairly well,” he responded, wondering where this was going.

“Is it true then?” Ron demanded to know.

“Is what true?” Neville asked.

“That Potter and Zabini are engaged,” Hermione stated.

“No, they are not engaged,” he responded in faint amusement.

“You see!” Ron cried. “I was right! Harry was supposed to marry my sister, there is no way he could be gay.” A flash of sadness appeared in his eyes before vanishing.

“They are not engaged…”

“You already said that,” Hermione interrupted.

“They are bonded,” Neville concluded.

Eyes all up and down the table blinked at Neville in shock and fascination. 131 Dean smirked. “I told you they were together,” his voice rang with satisfaction.

“THEY’RE WHAT!” Ron screeched, food flying from his mouth.

Professor McGonagall appeared behind him with a pinched look on her face. “Mr. Weasley! What is the meaning of all this shouting? I demand that you desist, at once!”

“But professor…”

“But nothing. Conduct yourself properly or you will lose House Points, Mr. Weasley,” Minerva stated.

“Yes, professor,” Ron meekly replied, glaring at the Slytherin table.

--

Sirius Black came to visit his godson the second week in March. He’d heard of the bonding and was determined that this time he would get to settle the differences between Harry and himself. He entered the Great Hall during Lunch that Saturday morning and approached the Slytherin table. “Harry,” he stated, gazing at his godson, “can we talk?”

Harry assessed the man before him. His godfather. This conversation was going to be interesting. With a light sigh and a nod, he rose to his feet.

“Harry?” Blaise queried.

Harry watched the slight stiffening of Sirius’ shoulders and figured that this was a conversation the man would like to have in private. “Enjoy your lunch, Blaise.”

“As you wish it, Harry.”

The Ivory Daggered Assassin strode forward and therefore did not see the warning look that Theodore Nott sent to Sirius Black. The Slytherin had become very possessive of those few he considered a true friend. Nor did he see Severus Snape’s tense muscles relax as the black eyes took in the slight smile on a certain Ravenclaw’s lips. All would be well.

--

Harry led Sirius through the school and up to the Astronomy Tower, relaxing slightly at the feel of the sun and wind against his skin. He turned and faced the silver eyes that were so similar to his father’s. He silently waited for the man to begin speaking.

“I find it ironic,” Sirius whispered, “that I was alternately condemned for keeping and breaking the same rule. ‘Assassins take care of their own.’ The very fist rule.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Regulus has always been the most important thing to me, and when I was ordered to kill the person he loved, I couldn’t. It would have damaged him greatly and I’d always known that first and foremost assassins take care of their own.” Sadness radiated from him. “So I stuck by the rule, and in so doing, lost the respect of my family and a great many others. However, if that was the price I had to pay for doing what I thought was right, I didn’t mind. I still had my friends after all.”

His mind briefly flitted back to the conversation he’d had with Moony those few short weeks ago. The 132 accusations. The explanations. The reassurances. They had finally discussed their issues and settled them, as they came to understand that they had both been trying to do what they thought was best. That was one of the hardest things about good and evil. They were both an individual opinion and sometimes the definitions one chose to live by clashed.

“And then they were gone,” Sirius sighed. “I lost Lily, James, and Peter in the same night. And then, through my own stupidity I lost you and Moony as well.” He turned to Harry and said, “I thought you would be safe. I intended to return shortly and take you to live with me, to raise you and protect you. I foolishly believed that Dumbledore would keep you safe and that I could bring Peter in to pay for his betrayal. But I was wrong, and the one who paid the most for my mistake was you, the person I was hoping to protect.”

Black hair fell forward to shield haunted eyes. “I’ll understand if you want nothing to do with me, Harry,” Sirius whispered. “I just wanted you to know the truth. To know my reasons.” Silence fell, and the longer it lasted the more hunched Sirius’ shoulders grew. The assassin brought his arms up and wrapped them around himself, fighting to hold in the tears and emotions that were threatening to overflow and spill from his control.

The sound of Harry’s footsteps rang unnaturally loud in his ears, even though they were quiet. The smaller assassin slowly approached his godfather with an expressionless face, though his eyes were a storm of emotion. He stopped when he reached the hunched form, reached forward, and pulled the man into his arms letting his godfather weep away the years of pain. He never spoke, but the light embrace told Sirius Black everything he needed to know. He was forgiven.

--

It was the last week of March and the Easter Holiday would begin in less than twenty-four hours. Harry removed the mirror from his trunk and ran his thumb across the Black family crest, smirking maliciously as his father appeared in the mirror. “Father.”

“Harry,” Regulus replied.

“If you would be so kind as to send Dumbledore down to the dungeons, father, I would greatly appreciate it,” Harry grinned. “I want to have some fun with him before I take his corpse to Voldemort.”

Regulus smirked and he reached across the mind-link, commanding the Headmaster down to the dungeons. “He’s on his way.”

“Make sure that whomever you intend to send with me is prepared and ready to go soon. I intend to take him to the Dark Lord as soon as I finish with him,” Harry stated.

“Lucius has been ordered to pick you up at the school and take you. Blaise will obviously accompany you, and so will one more assassin I’m sending.”

Harry stepped from the dormitory still holding the mirror, drawing the attention of the other Slytherins as he walked down the stairs. Blaise, Draco, and Neville joined him curiously as he stepped out of the common room. “Indeed, who might that be, father?” Harry queried.

“You will see later, my son,” Regulus replied.

Harry walked over to the darkened alcove and hissed, “Lord Slytherin, I seek to punish the unworthy.” The wall opened just as Dumbledore appeared and the Headmaster followed them into the torture chamber on Regulus’ orders. The entrance disappeared behind them as Neville and Draco manacled the old bastard to one of the 133 walls.

“I want him to know what is happening to him, father,” Harry drawled with a grin.

Regulus concentrated on the link once again as he bound Dumbledore’s magic and then released the man’s mind. “Enjoy yourself, Harry. I’ll see you after you’ve defeated Voldemort.”

“Of course, father,” Harry answered as the mirror went blank.

Harry locked gazes with the Headmaster as he shrunk the mirror and slipped it into his pocket. “What is the meaning of this?” Dumbledore roared.

Harry sneered mockingly. “What seems to be the problem, Headmaster?”

“Don’t play games with me, boy! You will not win!” Albus snarled.

Vicious glee spread across the four faces. “That is where you are wrong, old man,” Draco drawled.

Blue eyes narrowed in concentration before shooting wide in dawning terror. “Ah, I see you have discovered the block father put on your power. You really should have listened to me when I told you that he wasn’t someone you should anger,” Harry said.

“Harry, you must let me go! I need to train you so you can defeat Voldemort!” Dumbledore pleaded.

“Are you still going on about that, old man? I can already defeat him, in fact, he will be dead in a matter of hours.”

Dumbledore turned his twinkling blue eyes on Neville; his voice was full of desperation. “Mr. Longbottom, you must make Harry see the truth, these Slytherins are corrupting him! They are turning him to the dark side.”

“Actually,” Neville smirked, “my name is Mr. Malfoy now.” The four assassins grinned as horror spread across the man’s face when Draco pulled Neville back against his chest.

“Mr. Potter how could you…”

“It is Zabini now,” Blaise drawled, rubbing Harry’s hand affectionately. “And I advise you not to take that tone of voice with my husband.”

“Your husband?” Albus choked.

“Indeed,” Blaise smirked, “my husband.”

“How could you have fallen so far?” the Headmaster asked Harry. “You’re the savior of the wizarding world.”

“I know,” Harry replied, “and I’m going to save it again. My way.” A cruel smirk spread across Harry’s features. “Although, come to think of it, I could use your help.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I will help in any way I can, my boy.”

All four assassins couldn’t help but feel sorry for the insane wizard for a moment, only a fool would agree to something without knowing what it was. “Excellent,” Harry smirked. “I have created a spell that should be able 134 to defeat Voldemort, I just want to try it out.” Intense concentration appeared on Harry’s face as he imagined exactly what he wanted, whispering the words ‘Creo Verus’ in his mind. Three large rose bushes suddenly appeared in the room. “Neville if you would test to see if they are indeed real I would appreciate it,” Harry stated.

Neville walked over to the rose bushes and grinned, activating his Bloodline Gift. A swarm of thorns rose into the air and shot forward slamming into the Headmaster. The assassins grinned at the cry of pain the action elicited, observing as blood began to drip down his robes. Neville twisted his hand slowly and forced the thorns deeper, driving them into Dumbledore’s organs. The howl of agony that tore from his throat was music to their ears.

Neville turned to Harry as he spoke, “Very well done, Harry. They are completely real.”

“Thank you for testing them for me, Neville,” Harry drawled.

“No need to thank me, Harry. It was my pleasure,” Neville grinned.

“What,” Albus gasped, “was that?”

“Hmm?” Harry absently stated. “That was the latest spell I invented.”

“No,” the old man moaned. “I meant, the thorn attack.”

“Ah,” Neville replied. “That is a simple gift I have.”

Harry gazed at the Headmaster. “I still need to test the spell, I’m afraid this going to hurt a great deal.” He extended a hand toward the bound wizard, focused his mind, and whispered the words yet again, ‘Creo Verus.’

“What did you do?” Blaise asked curiously.

“Nothing much,” Harry said, “I’m simply dissolving his bones at a very slow pace, starting at his feet.”

“W-what,” Albus croaked through the pain, “D-d-did I d-do to d-d-deser-rve t-this?”

Harry’s eyes glowed a sickly shade of green as he strode forward and stood before the Headmaster. “You treat children like pawns, allowing them to be harmed if it will benefit your cause. You created Voldemort because of your sick and twisted need to play God. Because of you, thousands of people have died, thousands of people have suffered, and thousands of people have lost loved ones.” A sneer appeared on his face. “You force others to fit into little roles that you create and if they refuse they are either cast aside or destroyed completely. You are not God, Albus Dumbledore, and you have no right to decide what is for the good of the world.”

“A-and y-y-you do?” Albus spat, through the agony.

“Yes, I do,” Harry replied. “I’m one of many who have been charged with the safe-keeping of the world. I have the right to decide what will benefit and harm it. For I am impartial.” He turned his back and removed his robes and shirt, baring his birthmark to the incredulous blue eyes. “It says, Shadows Sworn, Forever Entwined, old man.” He donned his clothing once again and his Avada Kedavra gaze bore into stunned blue eyes that finally comprehended the truth.

Harry gave a mocking bow. “I’m Onyx Snow, the Assassin Lord’s Heir.”

135 Disbelief flared briefly on his face before he died and the human-shaped skin bag slipped down to lie on the floor. “Come, Blaise,” Harry drawled, grabbing Dumbledore’s skin. “We have a Dark Lord to dethrone.”

--

Rule Twenty-Three: An assassin always completes their assigned mission.

Harry dragged the disillusioned Headmaster’s corpse through the hallways and out of the dungeons with Blaise at his side. The time had finally come to complete the prophecy; it was time to fulfill his destiny in the way that he saw fit. The two Slytherins left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, crossing the rolling lawns. They reached the edge of the wards and stopped when they saw who was waiting for them.

“Onyx Snow,” Lucius drawled.

“Deceptive Poison,” Harry answered.

“I take it that you succeeded in killing the Headmaster,” the blond lord stated.

“Of course.” Harry made the body visible again.

“Vot did you do to him?” a thick-accented voice queried.

Harry turned his head and gazed at Viktor. “I used him as target practice for the latest spell I created.”

“And he turned into this?” Lucius sneered.

“Indeed,” Harry smirked.

“How are you, Harry?” Viktor asked.

“I’m well. Very well,” Harry answered, smiling up at his husband.

Blaise wrapped an arm around Harry and grinned down into him. “We should go.”

“Yes, we should,” Lucius agreed. He raised an eyebrow at the other three assassins as he disclosed the Apparition Coordinates. “Time to go.”

“Indeed,” Harry sneered disillusioning the body once again.

The four assassins focused their magic and Disapparated, reappearing at the edge of the wards that surrounded Riddle House. Harry glanced down at a hissing sound, “Master Harry, it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Scipio. How have you been?”

“I’m well. The other speaker takes good care of me.”

“Indeed? I’m glad to hear that.”

“This is the other master’s familiar, Nagini,” Scipio hissed, flicking his tail in the direction of the larger snake.

136 Harry turned to Nagini and spoke, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, beautiful one.”

“You as well, speaker. Master is looking forward to your visit tonight.”

“I’m pleased to be here as well.”

“Indeed. Welcome, speaker. Scipio and I have been ordered to patrol the perimeter so that you are not interrupted this night.”

A smirk appeared on Harry’s face. Perfect. Harry stretched forth his hand and calmly stroked Nagini’s scales, focusing on his magic and imagining exactly what he needed to happen. The snake was quickly silenced as its insides began to melt and vanish, trapping the piece of Voldemort’s soul within and utterly consuming it.

“That was quite disturbing to listen to,” Lucius drawled.

“Not scared of a snake are we?” Harry mocked.

Lucius glared at Harry with annoyance. “No, I simply do not appreciate the Parseltongue Language. I have spent too much time on the receiving end of Parseltongue Curses to enjoy it.”

Harry sighed. “That could be a problem, Lucius, for I will need to speak Parseltongue to set you free.”

“That part I’m sure I’ll be able to handle,” the blond drawled.

“Ve could alvays knock him out first if it is necessary,” Viktor stated.

“Very true,” Harry answered much to Lucius’ annoyance.

Pleased delight was visible on Blaise’s face as he watched the interaction. Harry didn’t often feel comfortable enough around people to banter. These two men were great assassins and wizards to hold Harry’s respect. “What are you going to do with your snake, love?”

Harry glanced down at Scipio and hissed, “Do you wish to accompany me, or do you wish to remain free?”

A contemplative look passed across the cobra’s face. “I think I wish to go free.”

“Then be safe and enjoy yourself,” Harry answered, leading the group onto the grounds. They walked across the grass that was lifeless and dead, the entire area seemed to be dying and diseased. Lucius strode to the front of the group as they neared the doors; he glared silently at the two Death Eaters guarding them and they were immediately opened. The three assassins followed Lucius through the hall, Harry still dragging Albus Dumbledore’s lifeless corpse.

They arrived at a large meeting hall and swept into the room. Harry noticed that the only occupants were Voldemort and the Inner Circle Death Eaters, several of whom were spies for his father. His goal was to defeat Voldemort and protect their people; failure was unacceptable. Lucius strode forward and dropped to one knee, kissing the hem of the maniac’s robes. Harry fought to keep the disgust off his face at the sight of such a great man bowing before a monster.

“My Lord,” Lucius drawled, “I have brought your guests.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort smirked, “I can see that, well done, Lucius.” 137 “Thank you, my Lord,” he answered.

“You may take your place in the circle.” At Voldemort’s words, Lucius instantly gained his feet and took his spot at Voldemort’s right side.

“My Lord,” Rabastan stated. “May I be so bold as to ask a question?”

A rasping chuckle echoed in the room. “You just did, but you may ask another.”

“Why are they here?” Rabastan queried.

“Ah,” Voldemort smirked, “they are my guests.” He turned calculating eyes on Harry. “Potter.”

“Voldemort,” Harry answered.

“I did not say you could bring guests,” Voldemort drawled.

“My husband and close friend wanted to meet you as well, Voldemort,” Harry replied.

“I see, and the Krum boy is your husband?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed the fierce glare Blaise sent in Viktor’s direction. Blaise stepped closer to Harry and wrapped his arm around the slender waist. “Ah, I see, the Zabini boy is your husband.”

“Indeed,” Harry drawled.

Voldemort smirked cruelly. “And yet the Krum boy has feelings for you as well.”

“I know,” Harry answered.

A raspy laugh echoed through the room. “How delightfully cruel you are, boy, to be with your lover in front of a man who loves you and wishes you were his own.”

The assassins present tensed at those words, for they were true, and yet the situation was unavoidable. “I do not mind,” Viktor stated.

“That is a lie,” Voldemort growled. “Do not lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Viktor responded. “It’s true that I care for Harry, but if he is happy with another, then I’m satisfied.”

“How very, noble of you,” Voldemort practically spat the word. He turned his attention back to Harry. “Have you kept your promise, Potter?”

Harry nodded. “Of course I have.”

“Then prove it,” Voldemort stated.

Harry lifted the Disillusionment Charm, revealing the bag of skin that had previously been Albus Dumbledore. The Death Eaters froze in shock, though a great many were secretly pleased. “How did ickle Harry Potter kill the evil wizard?” Bellatrix asked. 138 “With a spell,” he replied.

“Interesting,” Rodolphus Lestrange responded. “I’ve never come across a spell that would dissolve bones.”

“There isn’t one,” Lady Parkinson replied.

Voldemort cackled in delighted glee. “There is now.”

“How so, my Lord?” Lord Parkinson asked.

“I made one,” Harry replied simply. His statement was met with a collective indrawn breath.

“How interesting,” Rodolphus muttered.

Voldemort’s red eyes drilled into Harry. “You intrigue me, boy. You are strong in your own right, you are connected to famous wizards, and you seem to have a great deal of influence,” he drawled, gesturing to Viktor.

“You managed to create a new spell and defeat the illustrious Albus Dumbledore,” Voldemort sneered. “Very well done.”

“Thank you,” Harry responded.

Voldemort glared at him. “Tell me, Potter, do you know of the prophecy?”

“Of course,” Harry replied. “A prophecy was made before I was born.”

“That is why your birth parents were killed,” Voldemort drawled.

“So I had heard,” Harry answered.

“One would think you would seek revenge against me for killing them.”

“For what purpose? I never knew them, so I have no attachment to them. They are simply names from the past, memories that other people possess,” Harry replied.

“Tell me, Potter,” Voldemort smirked thoughtfully, “do you know the complete prophecy?”

“Of course I do,” Harry stated.

“Will you tell me?” the Dark Lord queried.

“If you wish to know, then yes, I believe I will,” Harry said.

“Tell me,” Voldemort demanded.

Harry recited the words, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

139 “Most of that is self-explanatory,” Voldemort drawled. “Your parents defied me three times, so I killed them. In trying to kill you, I gave you your scar and marked you as my equal.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And yet it states that you will have a power I don’t know about. What might that be, Potter?”

Harry smirked at Lord Voldemort. “I have a great many gifts and powers, I’m sure you have heard of almost all of them.”

“You know what it means,” Voldemort stated in annoyance.

“Indeed, I do. Just a little insurance that you won’t be trying to kill me any time soon,” Harry stated, leaning against Blaise.

“You will tell me,” Voldemort demanded.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

The yew wand rose and pointed in Harry’s direction. “Crucio,” he snarled. Viktor stretched forth a hand, stopping the stream of light from hitting the Assassin Lord’s Heir allowing the assassins to relax slightly. Voldemort glared at the Bulgarian. “How did you do that?”

“It is merely a gift I haff,” Viktor answered.

“You are beginning to irritate me, Potter!” the Dark Lord snarled.

“That is not my intention,” Harry answered.

A calculating look spread across Voldemort’s face as he gazed down at the three guests who were not revealing their secrets to him. He was Lord Voldemort, and he couldn’t allow them to possess knowledge that could destroy him. His eyes rose as Harry approached him. “What do you think you’re doing, Potter?”

“I told you I had insurance so that you couldn’t kill me,” he drawled. “I never said that I wouldn’t kill you.” Harry’s eyes became emotionless as he stalked toward the Dark Lord.

Voldemort and his followers were frozen in place for a moment before they leapt into action. Harry twirled his daggers around his hands, grinning at the man before him. A wizard who should have been an assassin, but he had been neglected and fallen prey to a manipulative old bastard. Killing someone of assassin heritage was always hard on an assassin; they treasured each other and cared for each other. Yet, sometimes there was no other option available.

--

Lucius instantly turned on Avery and stated, “Avada Kedavra,” killing the man. He used the moment of shock to send a killing curse at Alecto Carrow. He smirked as the green light hit the target and leapt to the side when Amycus Carrow began throwing curses his way in retaliation.

The blond aristocrat hissed in pain as one of the Sectumsempra Curses collided with his arm and tore the pale flesh open, showering blood across the floor. He watched as his wife raised her wand and cast ‘Crucio’ on the man for daring to harm her husband. Narcissa stalked over to the twitching man. “How dare you attack a Malfoy?” she snarled, pressed her dagger to the wizard’s skin, and grinned vengefully as the man was frozen solid in a block of ice. 140 She returned to her husband in time to see Lady Parkinson healing the wound on his arm. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Parkinson,” Narcissa stated.

“You’re welcome,” Lady Parkinson replied.

Narcissa’s eyes snapped to the side as she heard her sister shout in anger; she observed as Rabastan Lestrange crumpled to the floor, both legs broken. “You dare to harm our family?” Bellatrix and Rodolphus cried turning toward Antonin Dolohov.

“You betrayed our Lord!” Dolohov snarled, throwing his original curse at the bonded assassins, purple flames flying from the end of his wand.

“That man is not our true Lord,” they spat, appearing on either side of him, “and he will not last the night.” Their Platinum Daggers arced through the air, tearing open his throat. His bloodied corpse fell to the floor.

Bellatrix glanced briefly towards the young master and saw him engaged in conversation and battle with Voldemort, two assassins at his back, protecting him from the curses being thrown his way. She observed silently as the Zabini boy bound Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott Sr., apparently those three had earned the right to live.

Lord Bulstrode shoved his wife out of the way of the Blood-Boiling Curse Macnair had thrown at her undefended side. She landed on the floor near Rabastan and winced in pain. “Are you alright?” Rabastan queried, through his own pain.

“I’ll be fine, Rabastan,” she answered, shifting him to the side and away from an Organ-Liquefying Curse Macnair had aimed at their fallen forms.

Lord Parkinson joined Lord Bulstrode and began attacking Macnair with fervor, seeking to protect their comrades from the misguided souls who actually believed the venom Voldemort spewed. “I never would have taken you two for traitors,” Macnair spat.

“We aren’t,” they replied, refusing to let the man ruffle their composure. Lucius appeared behind the man and thrust one of his daggers into the man’s skull to the hilt. He slid off the dagger onto the floor; his life had been forfeit for attacking an assassin’s mate.

“Thank you,” they stated.

Lucius nodded to Parkinson and Bulstrode before diving back into the fray.

Augustus Rookwood shifted around the edge of the room until he stood near the fallen form of Rabastan Lestrange. “You shouldn’t have refused my offer,” he hissed, pressing his wand into the man’s temple. He froze as a dagger pushed into his throat.

“You shouldn’t have threatened my brother,” Rodolphus snarled, ripping through the skin.

The group of injured assassins turned to the two remaining Death Eaters. Selwynn and Yaxley. “This is your chance to surrender,” Bellatrix stated.

“We will not surrender to traitors!” they spat, sending a plethora of dark hexes and curses toward the group of assassins. They stood with their backs together, turning in a circle and protecting each other as they battled the ring of vengeful warriors. 141 “Cease fighting or we will kill you,” Lord Parkinson stated.

“We will not!” they exclaimed.

“Rodolphus, if you would,” Lucius drawled.

Rodolphus Lestrange nodded and activated his Bloodline Gift, making two of the assassins look like the fighting Death Eaters’ children.

“Mum! Dad!” the voices cried, full of terror. The momentary shock and distraction was all they needed to forever silence Selwynn and Yaxley.

They turned as a group to observe Harry’s battle against Voldemort, and that was their mistake, for the two Death Eaters who had been guarding the doors had summoned five others and they all swept into the room, casting Killing and Cutting Curses at Harry Potter.

--

“Why are you doing this, Potter?” Voldemort snarled, raising his wand. The brief flash of sadness on Harry’s face made him pause for a moment.

“Because it is my destiny,” Harry replied, “I’m the one who was chosen. I suppose you could say it is my mission,” he answered with slight bitterness.

“Oh?”

“I hope…”

“You hope what, Potter?” Voldemort spat.

“That you find peace in your next life, Tom,” Harry answered before leaping forward.

Voldemort shifted to the side, casting Killing Curse after Killing Curse at the mobile young man, but every time the streak of green approached Harry, they rebounded off to the side. “How are you doing that?” he snarled.

“A spell,” Harry answered. “The spell we created.”

“What?” Voldemort snapped, ducking away from the Cutting Curse that had been thrown at his back.

An ebony eyebrow rose. “I told you that helping me create that spell would result in Dumbledore’s death, and it did. I never said I wouldn’t use it to kill you as well.”

“I know of that spell,” Voldemort bit out. “So it clearly isn’t the power I know not.”

“Indeed,” Harry drawled. “In fact, I find that part of the prophecy to be misleading.”

“Oh? How so?” Voldemort asked, dodging curses and throwing ‘Avada Kedavra’ at Harry, who skillfully dodged out of the way.

“It says I have a power you know not, which is somewhat inaccurate. Technically, it should say I know of a 142 power you should possess, but do not,” Harry responded.

Voldemort didn’t stop dueling as his mind worked over the puzzle of logic. “So you’re saying that I’ll be defeated because I don’t have access to my own power?”

“Indeed,” Harry answered.

“And why am I unaware of this power?” Voldemort snarled, sending a plethora of dark hexes at Harry.

The flash of sadness appeared once again. “Because of Dumbledore.”

“What?” Voldemort stumbled for a second and lowered his wand as Harry lowered his dagger.

“If you hadn’t been raised in that orphanage, you would have that power, you would never have been what you are, the prophecy never would have been made, and I never would have been put in this position,” Harry stated.

“I’m…”

“Going to die because of a series of events that Dumbledore set in motion,” Harry finished.

Voldemort’s face twisted in rage at the words and he sent curse after curse toward Harry, snarling in hatred as they all bounced harmlessly off the shield. His eyes widened as a black streak of light shot out of Harry’s dagger and slammed into his chest, locking him in place. Harry walked up to the wizard and whispered. “Your birthmark, it means, Shadows Sworn, Forever Entwined. I have an almost identical one,” Harry stated. He pressed the Ivory Dagger against Voldemort’s chest and whispered, “The power you know not is your Bloodline Gift. The Slytherin Gift of Self-Regeneration. You would have been a great assassin, Tom. A great comrade.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open again and whispered, “Creo Verus,” watching as the light slowly faded from the red eyes. Observing as the blood-red orbs became lifeless. Looked on as the last bit of Tom’s soul fought to be free, to live, before giving up the battle. The Slytherin Line was dead; Harry had ended a great legacy that had fallen due to the meddling of one man.

He snapped around at a sharp cry of pain and watched as Viktor fell to the floor behind him, chest torn open, and blood gushing from the wound. “Bloody Hell,” he cried, dropping to his feet once he noticed the assassins killing the last person standing. Harry pressed against the wound trying to stop the blood flow, but it kept pouring from the Bulgarian’s chest.

Lady Parkinson rushed over and sank to the floor, pressing against the torn flesh as she sought to heal the damage. “How did this happen?” Harry croaked, blinking back tears.

“He was protecting your back,” Lucius answered.

“His Bloodline Gift protects him from dark curses,” Harry stated in shock.

“He was hit with seven at once,” Blaise whispered. “There must be a limit as to how much Dark Magic he can absorb at one time.”

Lady Parkinson looked at Harry’s pale face and whispered, “I’m sorry, young master, but I cannot…” Her voice drifted off at the horrified look on the young man’s face.

143 Viktor turned dark pained eyes on Harry. “I l-love you.”

“I know,” Harry cried.

“I never stopped loving you,” he choked.

“I know.” Tears fell down Harry’s face.

“Even when you c-chose another, I still l-loved you,” Viktor gasped.

“I know,” Harry sobbed.

“Don’t cry, Harry,” Viktor coughed, blood dripping from his lips. “I’ll be at peace knowing I d-died protecting the one I l-love.”

Harry couldn’t reply as his throat closed and his crystal tears fell to bathe the bloodstained floor.

Dark eyes turned to Blaise. “Take care of him,” Viktor ordered.

“I will,” Blaise responded, completely serious. Blaise turned his head and met emerald eyes, silent communication passed between the two men. Blaise nodded and watched as Harry leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Viktor’s.

“I will never forget you,” Harry promised, as the life left the dark eyes that shone with love for him.

--

Rule Twenty-Four: Assassins must lead the world in the right direction.

Harry shakily rose to his feet and turned to look at the three bound Death Eaters. He walked over to them with small measured steps. “Do you know why you were spared?” Nott, Goyle, and Crabbe shook their heads silently, still stunned by the mayhem and bloody battle that had taken place here. “You’re being spared because your children are great people; they have earned my respect.”

Their eyes widened in shock at the words. They watched in disbelief as Harry knelt beside them, tugged up their left sleeves, and hissed, “Your master has fallen, little one. Leave this man.” There was a slight hissing sound and then the Dark Mark faded and disappeared, freeing them. “Leave this place,” Harry stated, releasing their bindings, “and speak of these events to no one.” The three men bowed sharply before hurrying from the chamber.

Harry walked back through the blood and gore, picking up Viktor’s body as Lady Parkinson finished healing the last of their injured comrades. “Come,” he commanded, heading from the room that smelt of pain and death. He carried his friend’s corpse out of the building and across the lawn; his fellow assassins followed him quietly, respecting their young master’s wish for silence. They crossed the Anti-Disapparition Wards and vanished, reappearing in the Assassin Lord’s Manor.

Regulus’ cloaked form met them at the door and his eyes showed a resigned sadness. “I had hoped…”

“You knew?” Harry asked.

144 “No,” Regulus replied. “It was one of two scenarios our Seer saw. Both had an equal chance of coming true.”

“I see,” Harry sighed.

“Set him down,” Regulus whispered. “We will free the others from their marks as we wait for those who will mourn him to arrive.”

Harry gently placed the bloody Bulgarian on the floor and stepped up next to his father. Regulus addressed the assembled assassins, “Each and every one of you have dedicated years of your lives to spying on the man known as Lord Voldemort. You have sacrificed a great deal in doing so, and now you will be repaid for your sacrifices. Onyx Snow will remove your Dark Marks and I will guarantee that the Ministry drops any and all charges against you and your families for the actions you committed to save so many.”

His eyes ran over them. “You may approach one at a time.”

Lucius Malfoy walked forward slowly, kneeling before Harry. “I am Deceptive Poison: He Whose True Face is Unknown.” Harry reached forth his hands and removed the mark.

Narcissa Malfoy glided across the room and gracefully fell to her knees. “I am Glacial Requiem: An Icy Death is Sung.” Harry nodded to the witch and banished the brand.

Lady Parkinson bowed before Harry and whispered, “I am Carnal Elegance: Refined and Brutal.” Harry nodded to the Healer and freed her.

Lord Parkinson knelt and stated, “I am Noble Fire: That Which Burns All Hope.” He reached forth and once again the skin was blemish free.

Rodolphus Lestrange submitted himself to Harry’s power and said, “I am Golden Silence: Master of Deception.” His bonds of servitude were released.

Bellatrix Lestrange smiled up at Harry from her place on the floor. “I am Beautiful Death: You Shall Meet A Lovely End.” Harry gently kissed her cheek as he set her free.

Rabastan Lestrange bowed before Harry and drawled, “I am Elusive Death: Master of Subtlety.” He rejoined the others after his mark was removed.

Lady Bulstrode kissed Harry’s cheek lightly before sinking into a perfect curtsy. “I am Dark Soul: Bringer of the Night.” The lady was no longer a servant.

Lord Bulstrode inclined his head and sank to the marble floor. “I am Silent Scream: The Slow Torturer.”

Harry removed his hands and glanced up to see a group of people standing at the entrance of the large room. He turned and picked up Viktor’s body once more, carrying his form out of the room. He descended the stairs in silence, a large group of assassins following his every step. Tears were flowing freely from their eyes; a great warrior had been lost this night.

Harry came to a stop when he reached two tall black doors carved from ebony. The circle of runes they all bore was engraved in the wood. Shadows Sworn, Forever Entwined. The doors opened at a gentle push from the Assassin Lord and the crowd was gifted with the sight of a long endless hall, the Hall of Memories, where every assassin was entombed.

145 Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the sacred hall, eyes briefly flickering over the stones. Random names jumped out at him. Elizabeth Tudor. Cleopatra. George Washington. Machiavelli. Julius Caesar. He continued down the line without stopping until he reached the first empty slot. Harry wandlessly levitated his dear friend, and slid Viktor’s body into the space, watching as clear crystal sealed over him the moment he was placed on the slab.

A stone tablet appeared at Viktor’s feet. It read:

Viktor Krum Obsidian Endless Torment: There Is No Escape

Harry turned to the assembled assassins and spoke, “Honor him. We now create his Sanctus Memoria Calx.” He shifted back around and placed his palm on the black engraved stone. “I surrender unto you my memories, brother. May you never be forgotten.”

Every moment he had ever spent in Viktor’s presence flashed through his mind. The laughing. The joking. The crying. The pain. The love. The friendship. The missions. He copied every one of those memories and feelings, sealing them into the stone, so that all who touched it would know what a great man Viktor Krum had been. So that he would never be forgotten. So that he would never be just one more name engraved in stone.

Tears fell from his eyes. If only the spell could heal anything – but it couldn’t. It couldn’t overcome the well of Dark Magic that had been poured into his friend. His body was so drenched in magic that any attempts at healing failed as Viktor’s magical core fought any new magic that attempted to enter him. And if he shut down Viktor’s magical core, magic wouldn’t be able to heal him. It was easy to say his spell could do anything – but when it came down to it, it couldn’t do something that truly mattered to him. He wasn’t a God, and his spell wasn’t infallible.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped back, allowing the other people present to come forward and add their memories of the fallen warrior as well. Men, women, and children were all uniting as one to honor their fallen comrade. He leaned back against Blaise and sighed sadly. “I’m going to miss him.”

“I’m sure you will,” Blaise replied.

“He died for me.”

“Yes, he did. Do not make his sacrifice less by wishing it hadn’t happened. He was satisfied with how his life ended,” Blaise stated.

Harry remembered the pained smile on Viktor’s face as he spoke, “I will be at peace knowing I d-died protecting the one I l-love.”

“Yes, he did seem satisfied,” Harry whispered. He turned and took Blaise’s hand in his own, leading his husband away from the mass of mourning people. Viktor wouldn’t have wanted to be mourned. He would have wanted to be remembered.

He came to a stop in front of a black stone. A stone he saw every time he came down here, yet never had the courage to touch. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the truth about the woman who had carried him. Maybe someday, but he wasn’t ready yet. He tugged lightly on Blaise’s hand, pulling him away from the stone that read:

146 Lily Evans Platinum Emerald Flames: A Fiery Death Awaits You

He clutched the fingers that were laced with his own tightly and led Blaise to one of the parlors, settling down next to his husband. He sighed tiredly and leaned against his strength, his rock. “It’s over now, Harry, you can relax.”

“It isn’t over yet,” Harry whispered. “There are still a few things that need to be taken care of.”

Before Blaise could ask what still needed to be done, the doors to the parlor opened and Regulus walked in with Blaise’s parents. “I know you are tired, my son…”

“But now would be an ideal time for the presentation,” Harry finished for him.

“Indeed,” Regulus replied. He waited for the three assassins to line up and began the presentation. “Heir Zabini,” he stated, clasping Blaise’s hand firmly in his own.

“My Lord,” Blaise replied, inclining his head respectfully.

“Lady Zabini,” Regulus said, kissing the woman’s palm as he raised it to his mouth.

“My Lord,” she spoke smiling at the Assassin Lord.

“Lord Zabini,” Regulus drawled, bowing before the man.

“My Lord,” he answered, bowing lower in respect.

Regulus’ face became solemn as he beckoned Harry to his side. “Onyx Snow, I present you to your father, Hollow Harlequin: Master of Masks.”

Harry clasped his hand and spoke, “Father.”

“My son,” Lord Zabini answered.

“Onyx Snow, I present you to your mother, Hidden Shadow: Displayer of Horrors Unforetold.”

Harry stepped into the woman’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Mother.”

“My son,” Lady Zabini answered, her voice full of pleasure.

“Onyx Snow, I present you to your chosen Dominant, Crimson Frost.”

“Blaise,” Harry breathed embracing the darkness.

“My love,” Blaise answered, tightly clutching the Submissive to his chest.

“I relinquish my rights and charge you with his care,” Regulus stated.

“He will be well cared for,” the three assassins instantly replied.

147 Harry bowed to his three parents and tugged lightly on Blaise’s hand, leading his husband up to bed.

--

Harry arrived at the breakfast table and calmly ate his meal, waiting for what he knew was going to happen next. Sure enough, his father handed him a green envelope. “You know what you need to do.”

“Of course, father. I will have everything resolved by lunch, see you soon.” He rose to his feet and left the dining hall accepting his light cloak from one of the house-elves. Harry focused his magic and Disapparated.

He reappeared in the Ministry of Magic’s Apparition Chamber and calmly walked out of the room, bypassing the wand check and ignoring all cries from the wizard that he must stop. He sauntered into the lift, ignoring the shocked look on many people’s faces at his presence and waited for his stop. He strolled out of the lift and across the floor, heading for the Minister’s Office.

“You can’t just…”

The secretary’s words were cut off as Harry entered the office and closed the door behind him.

“Minister Scrimgeour,” Harry drawled, seating himself in one of the comfortable leather chairs.

“Mr. Potter,” he answered, watching Harry curiously.

“I have come to provide you with some information, Minister.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed, last night I managed to destroy Voldemort,” Harry stated.

Scrimgeour’s eyes widened. “Destroy Voldemort you say?”

“Indeed, he will not trouble the world any longer.”

“Do you have proof?” Scrimgeour wondered aloud.

“I’m afraid the body was irrevocably destroyed, however, I have several witnesses that will attest to the truth of my words should they need to.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed. Also, I’m sad to say that Headmaster Dumbledore tragically lost his life last night as well,” Harry stated.

“Dumbledore, really?” Scrimgeour queried.

“Yes, really. My father and I feel that Severus Snape would make an excellent Headmaster, do pass our recommendation along to the necessary people would you?” Harry demanded.

“Your father?” Scrimgeour choked.

“Yes my father. Ah, that reminds me, this is for you.” Harry extended the green envelope and watched as the 148 Minister’s eyes widened even further than they had before. “You will be able to help us won’t you, Minister? It would be a pity if this got out and you had to be replaced.”

Scrimgeour smirked slightly at the threat. Potter had bollocks that was for sure. “I will see that they are pardoned of all crimes,” he stated with a smirk.

Harry snapped his fingers and the letter burnt to ashes. “Excellent doing business with you, Minister, have a nice day.”

Scrimgeour watched as the savior of the wizarding world left his office. Potter had done it again. The Minister’s lips curled upwards. “The assassins won,” he whispered into the silence.

--

Assassin Handbook

A guide to everything you need to know about assassins.

Motto: Life is a dagger of darkness that carves away the light and leaves you drowning in the absolute meaninglessness of your existence.

Purpose: To keep the balance between Light and Dark Magic. Assassins are above the law.

Ranks:

Assassin Lord – Thestral Bone Daggers  The Assassin Lord is chosen by the previous one.  Must be Ivory or Obsidian Ranked to be promoted to Lord.  Leader of all the Assassins in the world.  Accepts and denies missions.  Responsible for keeping the balance of Light and Dark Magic.

Warrior – Submissive: Ivory Daggers and Dominant: Obsidian Daggers  Completion of all Platinum requirements.  Ability to brew Veritaserum flawlessly.  Ability to brew Wolfsbane flawlessly.  Ability to brew Felix Felicis flawlessly.  Complete Animagus transformation.  Successful completion of a Top-Secret Mission.  Control of Elite Bloodline Gift  Master of Legilimency.  Defeat someone of Warrior Rank.

Expert – Dominant and Submissive: Platinum Daggers  Completion of all Silver requirements.  Ability to Apparate successfully.  Access to Elite Bloodline Gift.  Ability to brew Polyjuice flawlessly.

149  Successful completion of twenty-five missions.  Master of Occlumency.  Defeat someone of Expert Rank.  Given Assassin Name for reaching this rank.

Apprentice – Dominant and Submissive: Silver Daggers  Completion of all Steel requirements  Ability to brew basic healing potions.  Ability to hit the target every time when throwing daggers.  Successful completion of mandatory physical skills regimen.  Successful completion of ten missions.  Defeat someone of Apprentice Rank.

Novice – Dominant and Submissive: Steel Daggers  Possess the birthmark.  Be gifted with a set of daggers.  Be willing to train diligently.

Letters:

Gold Envelope: Invitation to an Ivory Daggered Submissive’s Courtship Gala

Silver Envelope: Top-Secret, Highest-Priority Mission

Black Envelope: Regular Mission

Red Envelope: Death Threat

Green Envelope: Personal Correspondence

Blue Envelope: Invitation to Annual Courtship Gala.

Terms:

Assassin Name: A name that is used to describe an assassin’s personality and skills. Gifted to an assassin when they reach Expert Rank and get their Platinum Daggers. The third highest honor in assassin culture.

Birthmark: A circle of runes, located on the lower back, that denotes an assassin’s lineage. Every assassin has one.

Bonded Pair: Term used to describe two assassins that join their lives together.

Dagger: An assassin’s weapon. As an assassin’s skills improve, they receive new daggers that denote their rank. Every assassin possesses four daggers that are glamoured to look like wands to those of non-assassin heritage. The daggers do not have magical cores, as they bond with the assassin and directly tap into the assassin’s own magical core, bending the magic to its whim.

Dominant: Term used to describe an assassin that will be the sexual dominant in a bonded pair. 150 Elite Bloodline: Official wizarding term for the assassins.

Elite Bloodline Gift: A special ability unique to a specific Assassin Bloodline. Not all assassins are able to access or use theirs.

Presentation: Term used to describe the meeting between a Submissive and his/her chosen Dominant’s family.

Proprius Unus: Special One. The term used to describe the assassin, that has chosen someone as his or her Unus Quisnam Custodiae.

Sanctus Memoria Calx: Sacred Memory Stone. The term used to describe the stone, upon which a deceased assassin’s name is carved. This stone is then imbued with memories of that assassin for others to view and cherish.

Sanctus Patronus: Sacred Protector. A rite of trust. A term used to describe the person an assassin trusts their safety and life to. Being chosen is the second greatest honor in assassin culture.

Submissive: Term used to describe an assassin that will be the sexual submissive in a bonded pair. Submissives have the ability to bear children.

Unus Quisnam Custodiae: The One Who Guards. Generally a parent, the person who is chosen to review offers of courtship and either accept or deny them.

Utpote Indicium: Sincere Evidence. The act of one assassin presenting a gift to the one they are courting that shows they sincerely care about the other.

Rules: 1. Assassins take care of their own. 2. Assassins must earn their rank. 3. An assassin must work daily to hone their skills. 4. An assassin must be willing to work with other assassins. 5. Assassins must be willing to learn new skills in order to better themselves. 6. Assassins always familiarize themselves with their environments. 7. Assassins should be adept at gathering intelligence. 8. Assassins should be able to sense good and evil intentions. 9. An assassin must be able to defend their weakness. 10. An assassin must be able to lie with ease. 11. Assassins must obey the Assassin Lord. 12. Assassins must be meticulous in their revenge. 13. Assassins must be methodical in their actions. 14. A Dominant must prove themselves to the Submissive they wish to court. 15. A Submissive should choose their Dominant wisely. 16. Assassins should never forget the past. 17. Assassins must never reveal their secrets. 18. Assassins must be prepared to act on short notice. 19. Assassins must control their emotions. 20. Assassins must use all available resources. 21. An assassin may only bond with another assassin. 22. Assassins must guarantee that justice is served. 23. An assassin always completes their assigned mission. 151 24. Assassins must lead the world in the right direction.

--

Harry watched the end of the fight, smiling as Bella successfully defeated her opponent. His eyes scanned the edges of the room, grinning as he took in the sight of happiness and love. Neville was cuddled in Draco’s arms, his stomach just starting to swell with child. Sirius and Remus had their hands entwined, newly engraved with runes. Luna was leaning back against Severus cradling a small infant with black hair and glittering blue eyes.

He calmly strode over to the kneeling girl, watching as she held herself perfectly in place. “Bella Zabini, you have successfully defeated a Platinum in battle, this was the last requirement you needed to fulfill to reach Platinum Rank.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you agree to abide by the rules and guidelines as they are laid out in the Assassin Handbook?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you vow to live by the assassin precepts and honor our culture, never forsaking it?” Harry demanded to know.

“Yes, sir.”

“Will you wield your new daggers with care, treating them as the treasures they are?”

“Yes, sir,” Bella replied, her voice filled with conviction and hope.

Harry grinned down at the bowed head and extended a set of Platinum Daggers, watching as she efficiently sheathed them. “Then rise, and accept your name.”

Bella shot to her feet and gazed with hope into Harry’s emerald eyes.

“Bella Zabini, from this day forth,” Harry began, “you shall be known as Broken Nightingale: Not All Endings Are Beautiful.”

El Fin -

Q: What is the meaning behind an assassin’s hairstyle? A: The Assassin Lord may wear his hair in any style. A braid that extends to mid-back, signals a rank of Platinum or higher. Silvers and Steels may wear their hair as they wish, as long as it is not a long braid.

Q: Can anyone become an assassin? A: No, assassins are born assassins.

Q: How are Dominants and Submissives classified?

152 A: After an assassin child is born, they are medically examined. If they possess the ability to bear children, then they are classified as a Submissive. If they do not possess the ability to bear children, they are classified as a Dominant.

Q: Are Dominants or Submissives higher on the food chain? Does gender matter in this area? A: Dominants and Submissive are equally as important to the assassin culture. As are both genders. Higher ranked assassins have more sway over lower ranks, but that is all. A Platinum Female can still lead a group of Steel Males.

Q: Can male Submissives get pregnant? A: Yes, all Submissives can get pregnant; that is why they are classified as a Submissive.

Q: Are all of the female assassins Submissive? A: No, some of the females are born barren and are classified as a Dominant.

Q: Can a Dominant Female earn Obsidian Daggers? A: Of course, as long as the required tasks are completed.

Q: Is it possible for two female assassins to bond? If yes, can they have children? A: Yes, it is possible for two female assassins to bond. In the case of a bonding of this nature, a potion is used that combines the blood of both females. The female capable of bearing children drinks the potion and carries the child.

Q: Can a Dominant Female and a Submissive Male bond? A: Yes, they can. The same potion would be used as is used between two females to create children.

Q: Can two Dominants or two Submissives bond? A: While rare, it does happen. In the case of two Dominants, they may bond if they wish, however they would normally find a surrogate first that would agree to carry their children. In the case of two Submissives, they may bond, and either person could carry the child. If it is two female Submissives, they will use the above- mentioned potion.

Q: Can people of separate ranks bond? A: Yes, they can. A Dominant chooses someone of equal rank or below, but a Submissive always chooses someone of equal rank or higher.

Q: Can a high ranked Dominant have more than one Submissive? A: No, Dominants can only have one Submissive and Submissives can only have one Dominant.

Q: What is an easy way to tell Submissives and Dominants apart? A: In the case that an assassin has the rank of Steel, Silver, or Platinum, there will be a runic marking on the blade of their daggers that denotes them as a Dominant or Submissive. This allows the assassins to interact without gravely offending each other.

Q: What are the rules of physical contact? A: A Submissive is allowed to touch whomever they wish, be it Dominant or Submissive. Members of the same family may touch each other freely, regardless of classification. A Dominant may touch other Dominants if they wish, and they may touch Submissives when allowed to by the Submissive. Muggles are not supposed to touch any assassins because they killed assassin children in the past.

Q: Who was the first assassin? 153 A: No one person was specifically the first assassin. Several Bloodlines across the globe were named thus, when they were charged with keeping the world safe.

Q: What fraction of the wizarding population are assassins? A: Roughly 7.3% of all wizards and witches across the globe are assassins.

Q: How much of the world, both Muggle and magical, are run by the assassins? A: Assassins influence most major treaties and political decisions. For example, the British Monarchy is an Elite Bloodline and they have a major hand in politics, especially in the Muggle world.

Q: Were any important historical figures assassins? A: Yes. All four of the Hogwarts Founders were assassins. Several well-known figures were including: Cleopatra, Rasputin, Marcus Brutus, Qin Shi Huangdi, King Arthur, and Morgan Le Fay.

Q: What are the rules/customs of an assassin courtship? A: A Dominant finds someone they consider a worthy Submissive and decides to pursue them. They are allowed to speak with the Submissive and be in their presence when they so wish. When the Dominant is positive the Submissive is the one person they want as their future bonded, they approach the Submissive’s Unus Quisnam Custodiae and request person to court the Submissive. If the Dominant is found worthy, they are allowed to court the Submissive. During courtship, the Dominant is allowed to hug the Submissive and casually touch the Submissive. They are not allowed to touch the Submissive in a sexual way or kiss the Submissive. When the Submissive is ready, they will progress the sexual part of the relationship at their pace. The two assassins bond before the consummation of the relationship. There is no set time-period for a courtship. It will last until it is ended.

Q: Can a Submissive refuse a Dominant after being courted by them? A: Yes, they do not even have to explain why they are refusing the Dominant, though they usually do.

Q: At the end of a Courtship must the Dominant and Submissive battle? A: No. The Dominant was allowed to court the Submissive because they were worthy in skills and lineage. They have spent the Courtship showing their ability to care for the Submissive in other ways. If they truly wish to battle, they may. However, it is not mandatory.

Q: Can the Assassin Lord bond? If the Heir is bonded and becomes Lord, do they have to part from their mate? A: Yes, of course the Assassin Lord can bond. If the Heir is bonded when he/she ascends, his/her spouse will not have to part from him/her.

Q: Is there only one Assassin Lord? A: Yes, only one Assassin Lord is in power at any given time. That Lord is responsible for all of the assassins on Earth.

Q: Can the Assassin Lord choose the most worthy person, in his/her eyes, as the Heir? A: Yes, as long as said assassin holds the rank of Ivory or Obsidian.

Q: How does the Assassin Lord choose the Heir? A: A suitable choice is made from those who fulfill the requirements. Generally, the Heir is someone whose magic is compatible with the Assassin Lord’s. Some Heirs have been chosen as children because the current Lord knew the child would reach Obsidian or Ivory status.

Q: Must the Heir be related to the Assassin Lord? A: No, the Heir can be from any assassin family. 154

Q: Are there certain character traits the Heir must have? A: The chosen Heir will have shown the ability to make difficult choices under unforeseen circumstances. The Heir must be patient, knowledgeable, and a good leader. Being the best with your daggers, does not guarantee that you will be chosen.

Q: How is the Assassin Lord’s Heir made Lord? A: The Heir can become the Assassin Lord in one of two situations. First, they automatically ascend if the current Assassin Lord dies. Second, the current Assassin Lord may resign, or relinquish the title to the Heir.

Q: Are daggers made from a substance that feels ‘friendly’ to the assassin? A: No. The crafters make daggers as they are needed. There is no magical core in them and they all feel the same until they bond with the assassin they are given to. The daggers then imprint on that assassin’s magic and can only be used by another assassin with the express permission of their owner. The daggers connect directly to an assassin’s magical core and wield that internal magic as commanded.

Q: What happens to the old set of daggers when they earn new ones? A: They are kept as an important keepsake that shows their progress and hard work.

Q: Does the Seer also carry a set of daggers? A: Yes, the Seer does have a set of daggers.

Q: Who all knows of the assassins? A: Obviously all assassins know. Then, the pure-bloods are also aware of the assassins. Half-bloods who have a pure-blood parent that possesses the knowledge are also made aware of the assassins. Every Minister of Magic also has this knowledge, for when they are needed to perform certain tasks. Major Muggle politicians and governments have a way to contact them, though they don’t really know they are a group of ‘magical’ assassins.

Q: Are Muggle-borns ever told about the assassins? A: No Muggle-born has knowledge of assassins outside of the small snippet that can be found in the law books.

Q: If a Muggle-born marries a pure-blood and they have children, is the knowledge of assassins kept secret from their spouse? A: Yes. A pure-blood parent may tell the children, but the Muggle-born spouse will never be told. The assassins are a treasured secret, and those who are not technically ‘worthy’ are not told of them in any way. The necessity of keeping such a secret from a loved one is one of the reasons most pure-bloods act cold towards Muggle- borns. They don’t want to fall in love and have a marriage full of lies and deceit.

Q: Why is it a shame for an assassin to marry someone of non-assassin heritage? A: When an assassin marries someone of non-assassin heritage, the Bloodline Gifts almost never get passed down to the offspring. This can result in the loss of important Bloodline Gifts and skills that the assassins treasure.

Q: What happens to the offspring of a bonding between an assassin and someone of non-assassin heritage? A: All children born of such a bonding would be aware of the assassin world. If, in the rare event a child were born with the birthmark from this union, the child would be trained as an assassin. Assuming the non-assassin offspring have magical powers, they would attend a wizarding school.

Q: How do they not become interbred since they don’t marry those of non-assassin heritage?

155 A: There are Assassin Bloodlines all over the globe and in many countries. The British Assassins do not have to marry British Assassins; they can choose anyone they find worthy. This allows for a wide variety of genetic mixing.

Q: Can bonded assassins still go on missions? A: Yes, they can.

Q: What exactly does the birthmark mean and what does it show? A: The circle of runes means ‘Shadows Sworn, Forever Entwined.’ In the center of the circle of runes is a large rune that denotes the paternal line, and a smaller rune is to the right of that, which denotes the maternal line. In the case of an assassin only having one assassin parent, there will only be one rune and it will denote either maternal or paternal line depending on which parent is an assassin. This is assuming the Bloodline gets passed on.

Q: Does every assassin in the same family have the same Bloodline Gift? A: No. Firstly, some people never manage to access their gift. Secondly, for example, Blaise could have received his father’s Bloodline Gift and Bella her mother’s.

Q: Does a Submissive receive their Submissive Parent’s Gift and a Dominant their Dominant Parent’s Gift? A: There is no specific pattern in which the Bloodline Gifts are inherited. A child could receive a grandparent’s gift or great-grandparent’s gift.

Q: What are the powers of the Bloodlines? A: Each original Bloodline had its own power/gift that was associated with that Bloodline. Over time, with the inter-marrying of the Bloodlines, gifts that had only been seen in one family appeared in others.

Q: Have any new gifts ever been created? A: Yes, the intermingling of magic and DNA has created new Bloodline Gifts.

Q: Is there any special training for unique gifts? A: Yes, once an assassin has access to their Bloodline Gift, if they can access it, they under-go training in the hopes that they will be able to use it properly.

Q: Does training only happen at schools, such as Hogwarts? A: No. Assassins start learning very early in life, and they train daily with their families. Once they are of age to attend school, they attend the training sessions there.

Q: How come some powerful wizards/witches are not assassins? A: Only certain Bloodlines were made Elite in the past. Those Bloodlines never grow in number, though they can shrink when Bloodlines die out. Other Muggle-born, half-blood and pure-blood wizards and witches can certainly still have a great deal of power, even if they aren’t of assassin heritage.

Q: If someone were an orphan, and of assassin heritage how would they be approached? A: If an assassin child is discovered, the discovery is reported to the Assassin Lord. The Lord will then assess the child and see if the child would be able to adapt to their way of life. If it is determined that the child would be able to adapt, the child would be adopted and raised as an assassin. If the child could not adapt, it would normally be placed with a pure-blood wizarding family.

Q: What is the origin of the ‘Assassin Name’ and why is there an explanation? A: The Assassin Name was created as a way to show distinction for those who worked especially hard to better their skills. The name consists of two parts: the name and the explanation. Once a person completes the required 156 tasks they earn their name and are named by someone of Warrior Rank or the Assassin Lord, when applicable. The name part is two words that relate to something about the assassin. The explanation usually involves a description of their skills and/or personality, which resulted in those two words being chosen.

Q: Are all assassins only canine and feline Animagi? A: No, they can be any animal.

Q: When do they learn to be Animagi? A: Those who have an Animagus form and the ability to become it, may begin training whenever they so wish.

--

Name, Assassin Name, Rank, Bloodline Gift

Lily Evans, Emerald Flames: A Fiery Death Awaits You, Platinum, Magical Tracking Harry Evans Potter, Onyx Snow: Destroyer of Innocence, Ivory, Magical Tracking

Lord Zabini, Hollow Harlequin: Master of Masks, Obsidian, Heritage Knowledge Lady Zabini, Hidden Shadow: Displayer of Horrors Unforetold, Platinum, Dream Walker Blaise Zabini, Crimson Frost: Bloody And Cold, Obsidian, Heritage Knowledge Bella Zabini, Broken Nightingale: Not All Endings Are Beautiful, Platinum, Vocal Mesmerizer

Regulus Black, Empty Shadows: Everywhere At Once, Thestral Bone, Mind Control Sirius Black, Grim Reaper: Bringer of Death, Platinum, Ward Master

Lucius Malfoy, Deceptive Poison: He Whose True Face Is Unknown, Platinum, Suggestiveness Narcissa Malfoy, Glacial Requiem: An Icy Death Is Sung, Platinum, Ward Weaver Draco Malfoy, Scarlet Death: Bloody Until The End, Platinum, Illusion Master

Rodolphus Lestrange, Golden Silence: Master of Deception, Platinum, Glamour Master Rabastan Lestrange, Elusive Death: Master of Subtlety, Obsidian, Truth By Touch Bellatrix Lestrange, Beautiful Death: You Shall Meet A Lovely End, Platinum, Blood Singer

Neville Longbottom, Moonless Night: They Never See Me Coming, Platinum, Plant Speaker

Severus Snape, Darkest Nightmare: That Which Everyone Fears, Obsidian, Advanced Hearing

Lord Parkinson, Noble Fire: That Which Burns All Hope, Platinum, Flame Master Lady Parkinson, Carnal Elegance: Refined and Brutal, Platinum, Master Healer Pansy Parkinson, Bitter Thorn: Sharp And To The Point, Platinum, Visual Mesmerizer

Lord Bulstrode, Silent Scream: The Slow Torturer, Platinum, Human Puppeteer Lady Bulstrode, Dark Soul: Bringer Of The Night, Platinum, Advanced Speed Millicent Bulstrode, Icy Rose: Death At Its Sweetest, Platinum, Advanced Eyesight

Luna Lovegood, Deceitful Abyss: Drowning In Truth, Platinum, Seer

Ernie Macmillan, Coldest Depths: No One Slips Away, Platinum, Earth Master

Susan Bones, Lunar Butterfly: Eternal Sleep’s Kiss, Platinum, Dream Maker

157 Hannah Abbot, Seductive Whisper: Manipulator of Man, Platinum, Vocal Mesmerizer

Michael Corner, White Rain: Cleanser Of Sins, Platinum, Water Master

Mandy Brocklehurst, Dire Whirlwind: Creator of Chaos, Platinum, Wind Master

Viktor Krum, Endless Torment: There Is No Escape, Obsidian, Dark Magic Absorption

Remus Lupin, Midnight Eclipse: Creator Of Darkness, Platinum, Shadow Walker

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