Eryr - HarryPotterFanFicArchive_Archivist

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Prologue

Forbidden Forest

June 6, 1994

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled, trying to block out the screaming from his ears. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered in front of him like mist. At the same moment, Harry felt Hermione collapse next to him. He was alone. . . completely alone. . .

"Expecto - Expecto - patronum -"

By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor half, very close to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the hood. It made a gesture as if to sweep the Patronus aside. He could feel them watching him, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. Then it raised both its rotting hands - and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, grey, scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth. . . gaping, shapeless hole, sucking in air with the sound of a death-rattle.

A paralysing terror filled Harry so that he couldn't move or speak. His Patronus flickered and died.

White fog was blinding him. He had to fight. . . expecto patronum. . . he couldn't see. . . and in the distance, he heard the familiar screaming. . . expecto patronum. . . he groped in the mist for Sirius, and found his arm. . . they were not going to take him. . .

But a pair of strong, clammy hands suddenly wrapped themselves around Harry s neck. They were forcing his face upwards. . . he could feel its breath. . . it was going to get rid of him first. . . he could feel its putrid breath. . . his mother was screaming in his ears. . . she was going to be the last thing he ever heard -

And then, the screaming slowly lessened in intensity and Harry started hearing whispers. . .

Men must be free to do what they believe. It is not our right to punish one for thinking what they do, no matter how much we disagree!

Only a mind free of impediments is capable of grasping the chaotic beauty of the world. This is our greatest asset.

We are one. As we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeats. In this way we grow closer. We grow stronger.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.

Hide in plain sight.

Never compromise the Brotherhood.

When I was very young, I was foolish enough to believe our Creed would bring an end to all these conflicts. If only I had possessed the humility to say to myself, I have seen enough for one life. I have done my part. Then again, there is no greater glory than fighting to find the truth.

Be at peace now. . .

All that is good in me, began with you, Father.

He saw images appear before his eyes, some glowing blue, others red, white, golden and an infinite sea of dull, muted greys. Harry shook his head, trying to somehow stop the whispers in his ears and shake off the ghostly images before his eyes, but it did not have any effect. The hallucinations continued. . .

Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine.

Nulla è reale, tutto è lecito.

Nothing is true. . . Everything is permitted.

To say that nothing is true, is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile, and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that everything is permitted, is to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences, whether glorious or tragic.

Requiescat in pace.

When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it. I had time, but I did not know it. And I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. Now, in the twilight of my life, misunderstanding has passed into contentment. Love, liberty, and time, once so disposable, are the fuels that drive me forward.

Harry could make out the image of a man in a in a hooded white tunic with a red sash and wearing what appeared to be some sort of medieval armour. He saw another man in red hooded robes with a heavy set of armour lined with fur. Both the men looked like they were about to go to war with the weapons they were carrying.

He could see both men moving very swiftly and performing various acrobatic feats, running through streets and over tall houses, climbing on tall towers and jumping off them.

And then, through the fog, whispers and the ghostly images that were drowning him, Harry thought he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter. . . he felt himself fall forwards onto the grass as the wispy illusions vanished, the whispers also receding to the back of his mind.

Face down, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry opened his eyes cautiously. He was somewhat shaken by what he had seen. Now there was a blinding light which was illuminating the grass around him. . . The screaming and whispers had subsided, the cold was ebbing away. . .

Something was driving the Dementors back. . . it was circling around him and Sirius and Hermione. . . the rattling, sucking sounds of the Dementors were fading. They were leaving. . . the air was not as cold as it had been. . .

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw a something resembling a bird amidst the light, gliding across the lake. Eyes blurred with sweat, Harry tried to make out what it was. . . it resembled Fawkes the phoenix, but it was blinding silvery-white instead of the golden-red plumage of the phoenix. Fighting to stay conscious, Harry watched as it soared to a halt as it reached the opposite shore. For a moment, Harry saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back. . . raising his arm so that the avian being of light could land on it. . . someone who looked strangely familiar. . . but it couldn't be. . .

Harry didn't understand. He couldn't think any more. He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the ground as he collapsed. The last thing he heard before he completely lost consciousness was the piercing screech of an eagle reverberating through his head.

So, how is it? Do you find the beginning interesting enough? If you have any ideas or suggestions, leave them in a review.

(Version 2.0)

Chapter 2: Chapter 1 - The Bleeding Effect

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 1

The Bleeding Effect

Hospital Wing

Hogwarts

June 6, 1994

'Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words.'

'Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember. . . Nothing is true. Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember. . . Everything is permitted.'

'We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins.'

The whispers had once again started echoing in his mind as soon as he had regained consciousness. While the murmuring was not as loud as it had been earlier, it still lingered, and because of it, Harry was not able to adequately concentrate on the conversation between Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and Severus Snape, Hogwarts' Potions Professor. He only heard snippets of the discussion, but from what little he could eavesdrop, he understood that sometime after the Dementors had been somehow driven away, Snape had awakened, and he was now shamelessly lying to the Minister about Sirius bewitching Harry, Ron and Hermione into believing the Azkaban fugitive's innocence. And the bumbling fool that he was, Fudge was eating up each one of those lies and was commending Snape for his bravery in apprehending a dangerous criminal and Dark wizard. And it appeared that Snape was now trying to get him punished for breaking school rules.

Harry lay listening with his eyes tight shut. The whispers receded once again to the back of his mind, but he did not want to open his eyes for the off-chance that the ghostly images would reappear as soon as his eyes reopened. He felt very groggy. The words he was hearing seemed to be travelling very slowly from his ears to his brain. His limbs felt like lead. . . he simply wanted to lie here, on this comfortable bed, for ever. . .

"What amazes me most is the behaviour of the Dementors. . . you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister. By the time I had come around, they were heading back to their posi. . . "

Harry ignored the rest of Snape's prattle as he tried to regain his senses. He remembered the fervent whispers he had heard, many voices, all murmuring the same words over and over 'Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. Nothing is true. . . Everything is permitted. . . '

Harry wondered what that truly meant. He could still remember the two men he saw in his hallucination - for there was no other way to describe the phantasmal images which had appeared before him, instead of his mother's last moments.

The two men, one dressed in white and the other one in red, both attired in different styles of medieval armour, and both moving with such fluid movements, running, dodging, climbing and leaping from tall towers. And suddenly, an appellation was whispered to him in his mind 'Assassins. . . '

The Assassin Order, also known as the Assassin Brotherhood; Liberalis Circulum during Roman times or Hashshashin during the High Middle Ages, is an organized order of Assassins and sworn enemies of the Order of the Knights Templar, more commonly known as the Templar Order, against whom they have fought a continuous, recondite war, throughout the entirety of recorded human history.

Whereas the Templars seek the power to save humanity from itself by controlling free will, the Assassin Order fight to ensure the survival of free will, as it allows for the progression of new ideas and the growth of individuality.

For a moment, Harry speculated if he was losing his mind, because he remembered Ron telling him last year that even in the Wizarding World, hearing whispers was not a good thing.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was slightly out of focus. Somebody had removed his glasses. He was lying in the dark hospital wing. At the end of the ward, he could make out Madam Pomfrey with her back to him, bending over a bed. Harry squinted slightly and moved his head over on the pillow. In the bed to his right lay Hermione, her eyes wide open, too. When she noticed Harry was awake, she pressed a finger to her lips and pointed towards the hospital wing door. It was ajar and the voices of Fudge and Snape were coming in from the corridor outside.

Madam Pomfrey must have noticed that he was awake, for she walked over briskly holding the largest block of chocolate he had ever seen in his life. It was the size of a small boulder.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly, and placing the chocolate on Harry's bedside table, began breaking it into smaller pieces.

"How's Ron?" asked Hermione, as she glanced at the motionless redhead.

"He'll live," replied Madam Pomfrey grimly. "As for you, you'll be staying here until - Potter, what do you think you are doing?"

Harry was just sitting up in his bed. He glanced at Madam Pomfrey when he heard her indignant inquiry, but did not reply. Instead, he took a few deep breaths and then reached for his glasses, which had been placed on the bedside table. Putting his glasses back on, he reached for his wand and picked it up.

He got to his feet and regarded Hermione for a few seconds then turned to the matron.

"I need to see the Headmaster," he said, his voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

"Potter," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, "it's all right. They got Black. He's locked away in upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now -"

Harry could anticipate what Madam Pomfrey was about to say, so he quickly covered Hermione's mouth with his hand before she could express her shock at the matron's statement.

"Hermione, I'm just as shocked and angry at this as you are, probably more, but shouting and screaming is not going to solve our dilemma," said Harry while Hermione looked at him questioningly at his sudden calm demeanour. "Let's first get out of here and speak to the Headmaster. He might be willing to listen to our version of tonight's events."

Hermione nodded and Harry removed his hand. Madam Pomfrey looked at the two teenagers and was about to say something when the slightly ajar door to the hospital wing opened completely and the Minister for Magic and Snape entered the infirmary with the Headmaster following them a few moments later.

Fudge noticed the other trio standing by the beds and tutted.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" said Fudge, looking abraded. "You should be in bed, my boy! Has he had any chocolate yet?" he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

Madam Pomfrey was about to reply, but Harry answered the query before the Healer could. "Yes, Minister. I'm sure you're aware of how strict Madam Pomfrey is about the health of her patients. She wouldn't have even allowed me out of my bed if she hadn't found me to be capable of it." He looked at Madam Pomfrey with a small smile, and Madam Pomfrey just smiled somewhat nervously in response.

That seemed to be enough for the Minister, because he smiled jovially. But before the Minister could say anything, the Headmaster interrupted.

"My apologies, everyone, but I must speak with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger about a pressing matter," said Dumbledore calmly, as he politely told them to get out of the hospital wing. But it seemed that no one seemed to get the hint, so he added with a small smile, "In private, if you please."

"But Headmaster!" spluttered Madam Pomfrey. "They need to rest now. They just had a very. . . "

"I'm aware of tonight's unfortunate events, Poppy, but this cannot wait," said Dumbledore. "I must insist."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her. Fudge consulted the large gold pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.

"The Dementors should have gathered by now," he said. "I'll go and give them their instructions. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs when its time."

He crossed to the door and held it open for Snape, but Snape hadn't moved.

"You don't believe a word of Black's story, do you, Headmaster?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face.

"I wish to speak with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, Severus," was Dumbledore's only reply.

Snape took a step towards Dumbledore.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he hissed. "You haven't forgotten that, have you, Headmaster?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," replied Dumbledore quietly.

Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. It closed behind them and Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. The Headmaster held up his hand as he noticed that Hermione looked ready to burst.

"Before you interrupt me, Miss Granger, to no doubt advocate Mr. Black's innocence, I urge you to listen to me, and I beg you will not interrupt me because there is very little time," he said quietly. "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except for your word - and the word of two thirteen-year-old students will not convince anybody, especially the Ministry. A street full of eye-witnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at Dumbledore's last statement, but none of the other two occupants of the room noticed this slight change of expression.

"Professor Lupin can tell you -" Hermione said, unable to stop herself.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the Forbidden Forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so distrusted by most of the wizards that his support will count for very little - and the fact the he and Sirius are old friends, makes his statement biased."

"And you have to understand that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours," said Dumbledore with a serious tone.

"He hates Sirius," Hermione said desperately. "All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him."

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the fat lady - entering Gryffindor Tower armed with a knife - without Pettigrew ,alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius' sentence."

"But you believe him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or overrule the Minister. . . "

Harry was quiet during the entire conversation, but Dumbledore did not seem to notice anything unusual about it. Hermione glanced at Harry from time to time during the entire conversation, concerned about her best friend's well-being, but see too did not mention his unusual behaviour.

"What we need," said Dumbledore, his gaze fixed on Hermione, "is more time."

"But -" Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. "OH!"

"Now, pay attention," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly, and very clearly. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteen windows from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you'll be able to save more than one lives tonight. But remember this, both of you. You must not be seen!"

With that, Dumbledore turned on his heel and looked back as he reach the door.

"I'm going to lock you in. It is -" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Good luck."

Harry watched as the doors to the infirmary were closed and he could feel magic of the enchantments Dumbledore was casting on the doors to lock them from the outside. He turned to Hermione and saw her fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.

"Harry, come here," she said urgently. "Quick!"

Harry did not move but simply looked at her, emerald eyes distant than they had ever been. When Hermione repeated her request with more urgency, he just shook his head.

"Hermione, first of all, I need you to calm down and explain to me what you are holding, and what you are going to do with it," said Harry as his eyes locked with Hermione's brown orbs.

Hermione held the hourglass in her palm as she looked at Harry. "It's called a Time-Turner," Hermione began somewhat nervously, "and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letter to the Ministry so she could acquire one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never use it for anything except my studies. I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see? But. . . "

"Harry, I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do! Why does he want us to go back? How's that going to help Sirius?"

Harry stared at her shadowy face in the dark infirmary. He appeared to be in deep thought for a few moments before he spoke.

"Dumbledore said that more than one innocent life can be saved. I'm sure that he's referring to Buckbeak and his execution, which was scheduled to take place today. Now that we have the Time-Turner, we can go back and save Buckbeak, and then fly him to the Ravenclaw Tower, where we can rescue Sirius after they take him there, before they administer the Dementor's Kiss."

"Well, if we can manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry simply nodded in agreement.

"Now we have to decide how many hours we have to turn back," muttered Hermione.

"It's five minutes to midnight, we were walking down to Hagrid's approximately three hours ago," said Harry.

"Hmmm, yes, that's right. Each turn sends us back an hour in time so I think three turns will suffice. . . " whispered Hermione as she put the chain of the Time-Turner around Harry's neck.

Harry looked at the tiny, sparkling hourglass dangling from the chain. Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.

The dark hospital wing seemed to dissolve around him. Harry had the sensation that he was flying, very fast, backwards. A blur of colours and shapes rushed past him; his ears were pounding. He thought that he was once again experiencing the earlier hallucinations and -

And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus once again.

He was standing next to Hermione in the deserted Entrance Hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.

"We need to get out of here, Hermione," said Harry as he looked around for a place for the both of them to temporarily hide. Spotting a broom cupboard, he pointed it out to Hermione silently, who nodded that she understood his plan. Both of them moved across the hall swiftly to the door of the broom cupboard; Harry opened it, gestured politely for Hermione to enter first and then followed her inside amongst the buckets and mops and gently closed the door behind him. As an added precaution, he took out his wand and cast a mild locking spell on the door of the cupboard.

"Hermione, please check your watch and tell me what the time is," Harry muttered, as he lifted the chain of the Time-Turner off his neck in the darkness of the cupboard.

Hermione reached to check her wrist watch. Realising that she would be unable to check her watch in the dark, she tried to use her wand to provide some illumination, but Harry's hand was suddenly on her own.

"Stop, Hermione," Harry whispered.

"Why?" whispered Hermione in response.

"Someone is coming down the stairs. It might be us," muttered Harry.

"Oh. . . " she trailed off.

"Yes, it does sound like at least three people. . . Hmmm. . . I can make out three distinct footsteps, and we're moving very slowly, probably because we're under the Invisibility Cloak."

Hermione did not interrupt because she could feel that Harry was listening very intently.

"Seems that we've gone down the front steps. . . " Harry's sudden statement startled Hermione.

Harry grabbed an upturned bucket and placing it behind Hermione, he nudged her shoulders and made her sit on it.

"What're we going to do now, Harry?" Hermione whispered anxiously. From what Harry could see of her face, she looked terrified.

"Hermione, we have to make a plan for how we are going to execute this mission before we rush out there," said Harry, his voice calm.

Hermione seemed to gain some courage from his calmness, because her posture straightened and she looked at Harry's shadowy face with a determined look on her face.

"Yes, yes, you are right. We can't rush out there, and make up a plan in a hurry. Someone might be looking out the window, and we don't have an Invisibility Cloak to hide us now," muttered Hermione, her mind working at an accelerated pace as she tried to come up with a strategy.

"Hermione, we'll have to split up," said Harry after a brief pause.

"What? Why? Why do we have to split up? Wouldn't it be better if we went together?" queried Hermione, somewhat shocked and confused at her best friend's suggestion.

"While being together would be better, it increases our chances of being spotted by someone. Alone, you and I can sneak out easily and someone watching from the castle might assume that they just saw an animal. If we go together, we'll be easily spotted," said Harry.

"Hermione, I want you to go to Hagrid's first. Hide behind a tree near the boundary of the Forbidden Forest with a view of the pumpkin patch where Hagrid tethers Buckbeak. Keep a lookout for the arrival of Dumbledore, the Minister and the executioner. Release Buckbeak only after they have seen him, otherwise the Ministry will assume that Hagrid set him free. Take Buckbeak and hide in the forest. But whatever you do, don't go near the lake where we encountered the Dementors," said Harry, stressing his words.

"Actually," he continued, "You should hide with Buckbeak behind the Greenhouses until its time to rescue Sirius. That will prevent anyone from spotting you from the castle and no one can see you from the path to Hagrid's hut. I'll get you when it's time."

"Where are you going to be? Aren't you coming after me?" inquired Hermione anxiously.

"No, Hermione. I have something else that I must do," said Harry.

Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Harry. . . " Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but Harry stopped her questions before they even began.

"Hermione, do you know who saved us from the Dementors?" asked Harry.

"It was you. You were casting the Patronus when I fainted," replied Hermione as she watched him with worry clearly visible in her eyes.

"No, Hermione. My attempts to cast the Patronus weren't completely successful. I only conjured mist, and that is not enough to drive away hundred Dementors," said Harry softly.

"Oh. . . "

"That's what I have to do. I have to find out who saved us," muttered Harry.

"Maybe it was Professor Snape," added Hermione hopefully.

"No, it wasn't Snape. If it was indeed him, he wouldn't be denying that in front of Fudge," was Harry's reply and Hermione could detect his disdain for the Potions Professor quite clearly in his voice.

"This is why I have to go, Hermione. We have to know who saved our lives out there."

"But why can't I come with you?" questioned Hermione pleadingly.

"Because while the Dementors do affect me, I can at least defend myself by casting the Patronus, Hermione," said Harry softly. "And I will not let you experience the Dementors again, not while I'm still here."

"Oh Harry. . . " whispered Hermione, her voice cracking.

"Hermione, we have to move out now. We are on a tight schedule, if you haven't forgotten," said Harry.

As he reached for the door, Harry removed his wand and tapped the door, dispelling the locking charm, and pushed it open. He listened attentively for the sound of anyone approaching and when he concluded that there was no one in the vicinity, he gestured for Hermione to follow.

The Entrance Hall was deserted. As quickly and quietly as they could, they darted out of the cupboard and down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden forest gilded once more with gold. As they reached the doors of the Entrance Hall, both of them stopped.

All of a sudden, Hermione crushed Harry in one of her rib-crushing hugs. He could feel her quivering as she continued to crush the life of of him, but he did not complain. After a while, she released him and tried to hide her tears, but Harry saw them and just smiled at her.

"Don't worry, Hermione," he said soothingly, "Everything's going to be just fine."

She sniffled and tried to say something, but couldn't, so she just nodded silently. Harry patted her back until she stopped trembling.

"You need to go now, Hermione. Go and save Buckbeak," whispered Harry as he gave her a quick hug and then gently nudged her towards the path to the Gamekeeper's residence.

Hermione started walking down the path, turning back occasionally to glance at Harry who simply nodded every time, silently encouraging her.

Once she disappeared into the darkness, Harry continued to gaze into the direction in which Hermione for a few seconds before he turned around and entered the ancient castle, as the sun set behind him.

Astronomy Tower

Hogwarts

June 6, 1994

As Harry walked up the stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower of Hogwarts castle, he contemplated on what had recently happened.

He realized that he had been lucky that Hermione had believed his reason for separating. It was a really pathetic reason, but it seemed that the day had really stressed out Hermione because she hadn't argued with his rationale.

He did not wish to send Hermione alone to save Buckbeak, but he had no other options available. The sudden episode he had experienced during the Dementor attack was still on his mind. He did not know what triggered the episode and he could not risk it if such an incident happened while they were trying to rescue Buckbeak. It would only result in both of them getting caught and Buckbeak losing his life. So he had decided that it would be better if Hermione went alone while he gathered his thoughts and faced the Dementors, alone this time. At least this way, Buckbeak would be rescued and their mission would not be compromised.

The entrance to the tower was barred by a solid, magically locked, wooden door. Harry took out his wand from his jacket and tapped the locking mechanism of the door, whispering, "Alohom*ora!"

There was a click and the door was unlocked. Harry pushed it opened and the door opened noiselessly.

'Hmmm, it seems like Filch is performing his care-taking duties seriously for once,' thought Harry to himself, as the door opened without protest.

The Astronomy Tower was not really much of a tower as it was an open terrace. It was connected to the castle by the door, but the rest of it was open to the heavens. Because of this and the elevation, this was selected by the Founders as the section of the castle where students would study the cosmos.

Harry strolled to the edge of the tower. From there, he could see the Great Lake, and directly underneath the Astronomy Tower, he could see the wide opening in the cliff from where the first-years entered the tunnel below the castle to reach the underground harbour. He looked up from the lake, whose surface looked smooth as glass, and turned his emerald eyes towards the Forbidden Forest. At the boundary, he could make out Hagrid's wooden hut. In the dark, the light coming from the windows of the hut indicated that Hagrid was at home. Harry mentally hoped that Hermione was undetected and safe.

As his gaze swept over the tree-line, he could make out multiple specks floating over the forest. These were possibly the Dementors guarding the school. As thoughts about Dementors entered his mind, Harry was reminded about his mother and her last moments.

His mother. . . he had never known what she or his father looked like until he got the leather photo album from Hagrid at the end of his first year. His relatives, the Dursleys, every time he inquired about his parents, lied to him and told him that they had died in a car crash and that his father was an unemployed drunk. Every time he tried to remember them, tried to drag up a memory of them from the recesses of his mind, all he could remember was a flash of green light. His first encounter with the Dementor during the ride on the Hogwarts Express was the first time he had heard his mother's voice, even though she had been screaming. When the Dementors had invaded the Quidditch pitch and interrupted the game, that had been the first time he had heard his mother speak, and she had been pleading, crying for mercy, begging the monster known as Lord Voldemort to spare the life of her beloved child, him. His next subsequent encounters with the Boggart-Dementor in Lupin's office while trying to master the Patronus Charm had unlocked even more memories, this time of his father. He had heard from a lot of people during his stay at Hogwarts, that his father had been a kind and loyal man, Gryffindor to the end. The last memory of the man had proved to him that his father was all that and much more. His father had sacrificed himself to save him and his mother.

He had learned a lot more about his parents in this brief memories the Dementors had unchained than he had ever learned from his relatives. And that was all he needed to know. No matter what anyone said, he knew that his parents had loved him, loved him so much that they sacrificed their very lives to save him.

Harry could not understand why his vision was blurry all of a sudden, so he tried to rub his eyes to clear his vision. He could feel that his magic was getting a little volatile due to his current turbulent emotional state. All of a sudden, his magic started to pulsate. It was erratic, pulsing slowly one second and rapidly the other, and Harry got quite apprehensive at his magic's strange reaction. But very slowly, the pulse of magic started getting rhythmic. He could feel his heart beating, blood pounding in his ears. The rhythm of his magic's pulse slowly started matching the beating of his heart. His magic and his heart started beating in synchrony. And as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. His magic settled down and when Harry felt that it was finally over, he let out the breath he was holding, and sighed.

As he tried to make sense of what happened, and wondered if this was the beginning of another episode, a sudden pain blossomed in his eyes. Harry fell to his knees as the pain became unbearable, feeling as if someone had poked red-hot iron rods into his orbs. The pain slowly spread from his eyes to his brain. He felt as if he was about to die. His brain felt as if it was about to melt and pour out of his ears. He could not even think because of the pain.

Just as he was about to pass out from the excruciating pain, it stopped. And he lost consciousness once again.

Astronomy Tower

Hogwarts

June 6, 1994

When he was conscious once more, Harry opened his eyes. He was a little woozy from the pain and felt very weak. He tried to get back to his feet, but could not manage. He collapsed and just lay there.

As he looked at the open skies and the innumerable twinkling stars, he started seeing the same ghostly images he had seen earlier. Blue, red, white, yellow, grey. . . men and women, wearing medieval clothes, appeared moving before his eyes. . . talking, walking, dancing, laughing, weeping, screaming, running, fighting. . . so much fighting. . .

A girl appeared before his eyes, giggling and smiling widely at him. A wreath of wild flowers rested on her head like a crown. She reached out towards him, small arms extended, as if asking him to pick her up.

Harry tried to move his arms to reach out to the toddler, and he had to stop from yelling in surprise when he saw his fingers covered in a red, viscous fluid. He knew instinctively that it was blood. He turned to look at the girl, but she had vanished.

He blinked in shock and his shock was further amplified when the blood coating his fingers vanished and his arm was enveloped by a stylish bracer. As he moved his arm to have a proper look at the object decorating his forearm, he saw some sort of rotating wheel on a strip of metal. He did not know how, but he knew that he had to flick his wrist or clench his wrist. He did so and a long, thin, sharp blade emerged. The blade was of steel and had decorative carvings running along the cannelure of the blade. Another flick of his wrist and the blade retracted.

Harry blinked his eyes a few times and the bracer and the weapon slowly faded from his forearm. He looked around him. The images slowly became more vivid. He could make out the faces of the people before him. He could see the patterns of their clothes. He looked around and he could see the modest houses, solid brick walls, tall towers, beautiful gardens, majestic cathedrals, grandiose palaces and imposing fortresses. He could hear conversations, loud and loutish, soft and whispered, spoken in languages he had never heard until today, yet now he understood every word spoken in the strange tongues as easily as he understood English.

Knowledge slowly started trickling into his mind. Knowledge of the past. . . knowledge of how his ancestors had lived, how they had fought, how they had died. . . knowledge of things he had never considered important, until this moment. . . knowledge of secrets many would kill for. . . knowledge of ancient battles. . . knowledge of the struggle for power. . . knowledge of civilizations older and more advanced than man. . . knowledge of the artefacts of immense power. . . knowledge of Templars. . . knowledge of. . . Assassins. . .

Harry slowly attempted to comprehend the vast knowledge that was liberated in his mind. He gently sorted through the memories and knowledge, and started arranging it in sequence. After a while, the clutter that his mind had become cleared, and Harry slowly opened his eyes.

There was still some pain lingering from earlier, but Harry realized that he felt better now than he had ever felt. He felt as if a fog was lifted from his mind. He could think much more clearly, and as he stood and gazed out at the Forbidden Forest, he realized that he could see much more clearly as well. . . without his glasses.

Harry wondered if whatever had happened has affected his eyes as well. He recalled the pain in his eyes. He knew that some of his ancestors had a special ocular ability which was a sixth sense, and they employed it often to instinctively sense 'auras' of people and objects around them. It helped them in differentiating friend from foe. It also allowed them to detect heartbeat of an individual in a group, and foresee the path a person might take. It was also used to follow the cold trail or locate a disguised person.

It seemed that he had unlocked his ancestors' rare ability of Eagle Vision, which had improved his normal eyesight as well.

Harry had seen the lives of his ancestors from their own perspective. They had fought for the free will of all sentient beings. A war that had been fought for millennia, and might still be continuing. He became cognizant of the fact that if the Templars were still out there, and the possibility of them being out there was very high, then he would have to seek them out and put a stop to their plans for subjugation of all humans. He would have to conclude the mission his ancestors had started.

He, Harry Potter, would have to take up the mantle of his ancestors and become an Assassin.

Well, here's the new chapter. Some of the content has been taken from HP&tPoA. I hope that you all enjoy it.

Thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter.

(Version 2.0)

Chapter 3: Chapter 2 - The Truth

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 2

The Truth

Astronomy Tower

Hogwarts

June 6, 1994

"Harry," she whispered as she carefully placed her baby in his crib, wishing she could be there for him longer, "Be safe. . . Be strong. . . I love you so much, my darling. . . "

Perched on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, Harry sighed as he recalled his mother's final words to him before her death. He would be strong, for he had to be strong if he was going to shoulder the burdens that the title of an Assassin necessitated.

As he recalled some of the knowledge that had been unlocked in his mind, Harry could not help but marvel at some of the things he had discovered. Who knew that humans, even wizards, who thought themselves to be the most superior species living on Earth, had in fact been created by a race of ancient and advanced humanoids with special abilities, who were among the first to call Earth their home. Those Who Came Before, as his ancestors had informally named them, had in fact created humanity by speeding up the evolution of an already existing species, in order to create a docile workforce for their world.

The First Civilization had created Pieces of Eden, which were technologically advanced artefacts, each possessing unique properties. They had used these Pieces to control humanity and make them more obedient to their creators.

But eventually war broke out between the First Civilization and their oppressed human slaves.

It was instigated by the theft of a Piece of Eden - the Apple of Eden - by Adam and Eve, who were hybrids of the First Civilization and humans, and therefore had developed immunity to the mind controlling effects of the Pieces of Eden.

The humans rebelled against their creators, believing that they should be free from the mastery of their 'Gods'.

The humans were led by the hybrids due to their immunity to the hypnotic and mind controlling effects of the Pieces of Eden. They used this immunity to get close to some of the members of the First Civilization and kill them. This was seen by the First Civilization as a betrayal of their 'Gods' and they were dubbed 'Assassins'.

For a while, the battlefield was even. Though the humans were in a larger number, the First Civilization had the Pieces of Eden and an additional advanced sixth sense, which gave them much more awareness of their surroundings.

But the war prevented the First Civilization from observing the impending danger of a coronal mass ejection, due to a massive solar flare, which led to an abrupt, but bloody end to the conflict. Both sides suffered heavy losses, and most of the planet was reduced to ashes due to the solar radiation, rendering the surface of the earth barren.

When both the First Civilization and the humans saw the futility of war, they made peace, the humans forgiving their 'parents' for their trespasses, and together they created Temples to warn the future generations. But the First Civilization saw that their numbers were dwindling and realized that their time had come to an end, so they created measures to avoid another future catastrophe from occurring. They left messages and saw their time on Earth come to an end. Humans on the other hand, who had been built by the First Civilization to survive, successfully managed to reconstruct their society and flourished.

After this, the leaders of the humans now had in their possession multiple Pieces of Eden, and an idea of how best to lead humanity into the future. They were heavily scarred by the knowledge that their former captors had interfered with their evolutionary destiny, and sought to bring about humanity's 'rightful' path by any means necessary. Justified with this belief, they utilized the Pieces of Eden as tools, but were distrustful of any who had made peace with the First Civilization.

Those who represented the 'Assassins' had always wanted to free humanity and envisioned a world where all beings could live their lives according to their own will. As such, the Creed 'Nothing is true, everything is permitted' became their philosophy, exemplifying the belief that all were free to determine their own existence. They also believed that the misuse of the Pieces of Eden to control others was against all they had worked and suffered for, as they figured that they did not betray their 'parents' to liberate humanity, only to see it enslave itself once more.

Therefore, a new war was set in motion; one which would determine the future of humanity, but was fought in the shadows of society. A war between the Templars and the Assassins.

And in that war, two of his ancestors had played very important part.

His ancestor during the High Middle Ages, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad had fought against the Templars, who had publicly become a knightly order under the name 'Knights Templar'. He had killed nine Templars, on the orders of his Mentor and the leader of the Brotherhood, Rashid ad-Din Sinan, more commonly known as Al Mualim and 'The Old Man of the Mountain'. But in the end, when he had killed the last man, Altaïr was revealed the bitter truth, that his own Master was a hidden Templar, and had ordered the deaths of the other nine Templars so that he could obtain the Ark of the Covenant, which contained an Apple of Eden. Altaïr, now realizing that he had been betrayed by someone he had once considered a dear friend, had raced back to Masyaf, the legendary fortress of the Assassins, to fight Al Mualim. After a long and tiresome battle, he finally managed to defeat the Mentor, and ascended as the new Mentor.

While he did face some challenges during his ascension, he managed to convince the Brotherhood of his suitability to lead the Order. Over the years, he made some significant changes to the way the Order functioned. He noticed that the Templars were becoming more secretive and less public in their dealings, so he did the same with the Order. He also made significant modifications to the weapons used by the Brotherhood. He wished to see the Assassin Order spread throughout the world, and so he constructed Assassin Guilds in cities all over the known world. For a long time, he studied the Apple of Eden, trying to understand the purpose of the powerful artefact. He also wrote a Codex, which contained his personal writings, discoveries made from his study of the Apple, and his innermost thoughts. Later in life, he married Maria Thorpe, a Templar-turned-Assassin ally, who bore him two sons, Darim and Sef.

When the Mongols, lead by the ruthless Genghis Khan, threatened the Holy Land, Altaïr left Masyaf along with Maria and Darim to counter this threat. With the help of Mongolian Assassin Qulan Gal, Genghis Khan was defeated and Altaïr returned to Masyaf. But upon reaching there, he saw that the Order had been taken over by Abbas Sofian, who had killed Sef and blamed Altaïr's old friend Malik Al-Sayf for his death. In a struggle, Maria was killed and Altaïr fled Masyaf with his son Darim to Alamut, where he spent the next 20 years of his life. There he continued to further study the Apple, now becoming somewhat obsessed with it, which drove away his son. During his self-imposed exile, he was directed by the Apple of Eden and discovered six artefacts, which were in fact Memory Seals, in a First Civilization Temple hidden beneath the Alamut fortress. He recorded five of them with significant events and memories of his life while the sixth was kept safe for later use. When news of the worsening state of the Assassin Order reached him, Altaïr returned to Masyaf to reclaim his title of Mentor by defeating Abbas. After his victory, Altaïr began to construct a library beneath Masyaf fortress, where he would store his books containing knowledge from the Apple. The five Memory Seals were used as keys to the library.

When Masyaf came under siege from Mongol forces, Altaïr handed over his Codex and the keys to his library to Niccolò and Maffeo Polo, two Venetian explorers who he had become friends with. After he ordered the evacuation of the fortress and the nearby village, he said his final farewell to Darim and locked himself into his library. After placing the Apple of Eden on a pedestal and sealing it, Altaïr imprinted the last Memory Seal with his final memories before he peacefully passed away at the age of 92.

His ancestor during the Renaissance was a Florentine nobleman, Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Ezio had been unaware of his heritage as an Assassin until he witnessed the deaths of his father and two brothers at the age of 17. After he assassinated the ones responsible for their deaths, the Florentine fled his birthplace with his mother and sister to take refuge in the Tuscan town of Monteriggioni, at the Villa Auditore.

After learning of his heritage from his uncle, Mario Auditore, Ezio began his Assassin training and set about on his quest for vengeance against the Templar Order, and their Grand Master, Rodrigo Borgia, who had ordered the execution of his kin. During his travels, Ezio managed to not only unite the pages of the Codex, written by Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Mentor of the Levantine Assassins, but also to save the cities of Florence, Venice, and Rome from Templar rule. He helped spread the Renaissance and Assassin ideals of independence and free thought throughout Italy.

In his journeys, Ezio befriended Leonardo da Vinci, the famous inventor, anatomist, sculptor, cartographer, painter, botanist, engineer, architect and mathematician. Leonardo played an important role in the struggle between the Assassins and the Templars. He was the one who decrypted the Codex of Altaïr, repaired the Hidden Blades and then further modified and modernized them. In turn, he convinced Ezio to test his inventions, which included the flying machine. The friendship between the artist and the Assassin was lifelong, literally, as Ezio was present with Leonardo at the moment he died.

Niccolò Machiavelli was an Italian philosopher and writer, and a member of the Assassin Brotherhood. He was a cynical individual and the relation between him and Ezio could be described as tentative, because Machiavelli couldn't bring himself to trust anyone as he was a secretive person. But Ezio managed to work with the Italian Assassin as they shared a common goal, defeating the Templars.

Ezio was responsible for putting an end to the Pazzi Conspiracy in Florence. The Venetian Conspiracy orchestrated by Barbarigos was also thwarted by the Florentine Assassin. The young Assassin then faced Rodrigo Borgia in Venice in a fight for the possession for an Apple of Eden, which the Templars had retrieved from Cyprus. He participated in the Battle of Forlì and personally rescued Caterina Sforza's children. There, due to Templar treachery, he lost his Piece of Eden, which was stolen by a monk with nine fingers, Girolamo Savonarola. The friar used the Apple to instigate the Bonfire of Vanities in Florence, where books and artwork were set on fire. Ezio obtained the Apple from Savonarola, but when the monk was captured by the citizens of Florence and sentenced to be executed by being burned at the stake, Ezio had mercy on the monk and put him out of his misery with his blade. When he fought against Rodrigo Borgia in the Sistine Chapel and defeated him, Ezio used the Papal Staff, which was also a Piece of Eden, along with the Apple to open a Vault, which was a Temple left by the First Civilization to warn the future generations about a great catastrophe which would befall Earth.

When the Apple was stolen from him by Cesare Borgia during the siege of Monteriggioni, Ezio travelled to Rome to reclaim it. There he liberated the city from the Borgia's oppressive rule and revived the Brotherhood to help him in his fight for justice. He also aided Nicolaus Copernicus and protected him from the Borgia, who wanted him dead for speaking out against the religious philosophy with his radical theory that the sun was the midpoint of the universe, contrary to the common belief that the Earth was the centre. The Master Assassin infiltrated Castel Sant'Angelo to rescue Caterina Sforza who was being held captive by the Templars. After that, he began expanding the Brotherhood by recruiting distressed Roman citizens who wanted to fight and take a stand against the oppressive rule of the Borgia. The Assassin also defeated the French allies of the Borgia who were stationed in Rome. Ezio was promoted to the position of 'Mentor' by Niccolò Machiavelli after the older man realized that the young Florentine Assassin was a better leader and exactly what the Order needed at the time. After ascending to the position of the Assassin Mentor, Ezio infiltrated Castel Sant'Angelo and witnessed Cesare Borgia poisoning his own father Rodrigo. He then hurried to reclaim the Apple which Rodrigo had hidden away and the Assassin leader escaped the Papal forces with the Apple. Over the next few months, Ezio and the Brotherhood used the Apple to great effect to systematically destroy the forces which supported Cesare in Rome.

The Assassins defeated Cesare at the gates of Rome, and the Borgia was arrested on the orders of the new Pope and imprisoned. But Ezio did not trust the prison would be able to hold Cesare for long, so he set out with Machiavelli to locate the Borgia, since the Pope refused to disclose the location of the prison to anyone. But before the Assassins could find Cesare, one of the Borgia's trusted lieutenants Micheletto Corella had already aided his master in his escape. The Auditore Assassin tracked the Borgia Templar to Valencia, but Cesare managed to successfully evade the Assassins again, injuring Machiavelli in the process. So Ezio proceeded alone and finally located Cesare in Viana, where he was leading a siege of the city. After fighting his way towards the Grand Master of the Templars, the Assassin Mentor engaged his opponent in battle. The fight ended when Ezio threw the aggressive Borgia from the walls of the city, leaving Cesare in the hands of fate.

After he finally ended the Templar reign in Rome, Ezio had a vision where the Apple informed him that he had to relinquish the Piece of Eden so that future generations might make use of it, and the Apple also showed him where it should be hidden. The Mentor of the Assassins sealed away the Apple in another Vault Temple beneath the Santa Maria in Aracoeli of Rome. He returned to the Sanctuary beneath the uninhabited Villa Auditore in Monteriggioni to leave a clue to the password that protected the Vault's entrance, visible only to those who possessed the unique ability of Eagle Vision.

During his time in Rome, Ezio also saved Leonardo da Vinci from a cult of fanatic philosophers calling themselves the 'Cult of Hermes'. These Hermeticists believed that they would 'transform mankind' by locating the Temple of Pythagoras. Their leader, Ercole Massimo, ordered the kidnapping of Leonardo, a famous polymath who had studied the writings of Pythagoras. The Hermeticists believed that da Vinci knew the location of the hidden entrance to the Temple. Ezio rescued Leonardo from the clutches of the Cult and defeated the Hermeticist leader and many of his followers who tried to stop him from rescuing his friend by engaging the Assassin in combat. After the rescue, the inventor convinced Ezio to destroy the number which the Hermeticists were seeking, as it had to be destroyed, lest any other went searching for it. Ezio reluctantly agreed and the two navigated the chambers by solving puzzles. Upon finally entering a vault, the Assassin immediately recognized the architecture as matching that of the Vatican and Colosseum Vault. When a pedestal activated and started showing some numbers, Ezio distracted Leonardo and led him from the vault and out of the Temple to safely.

In the years that followed, Ezio developed more standard methods of training Assassin recruits. After finding a letter by his father to his uncle, he discovered the rumours of existence of a hidden library beneath the abandoned Assassin fortress of Masyaf, and so he began a quest to rediscover the lost history of the Order. Travelling to the aged fortress of Masyaf in order to learn more about the Assassins before him, he discovered it overrun with Templars. After acquiring the journal of Niccolò Polo from the Templar Captain leading the expedition, he made his way to the city of Constantinople to uncover the location of the Masyaf Keys which, as he discovered, would unlock the fortress's fabled hidden library when brought together.

In Constantinople, he discovered that the Byzantine Templars were planning to overthrow the Ottoman Sultan and reclaim their power. So Ezio, with the help of the Ottoman Assassins and their boisterous leader Yusuf Tazim, gathered information about the new Templar threat while also helping the Ottoman Assassins in protecting the city from both the Byzantines and the Ottoman soldiers. He also searched for the Masyaf keys and discovered four of them all over Constantinople. After he collected the keys, all of which contained important memories of the life of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, the famous Syrian Master Assassin, he travelled to Cappadocia to obtain the final key. After he killed the Templar possessing the final key, Ezio was ambushed by the Templar leader, who was none other than the Ottoman Prince Ahmet, who wished to open the hidden library and discover the location of the Grand Temple, which he believed would grant him immeasurable power. He blackmailed Ezio by holding his love interest Sofia Sartor hostage, and demanded all the Masyaf Keys. The Master Assassin saved Sofia and reclaimed the keys from Ahmet after a brief battle. After the fight, he travelled to Masyaf with Sofia. Upon reaching his destination, he unlocked the library and found it to be empty, except for the remains of the former Mentor, Altaïr, resting in a chair with a Memory Seal in his possession. The seal revealed Altaïr's final conversation with his son Darim to Ezio as well as the hidden location of his Apple. Ezio moved towards the Apple, but refused to take it, believing that he had seen enough for one life. With that, he discarded his weapons and left the Vault.

Ezio and Sofia travelled back to Constantinople, where they sold Sofia's bookshop to the Assassins and also appointed a new leader for the Ottoman Guild after the death of the previous leader Yusuf. After that, they travelled back to Italy and settled in a villa in the Tuscan countryside. Ezio and Sofia married in Venice and later had two children, a daughter, Flavia, and a son, Marcello. Ezio passed away at the age of 65, finally at peace with the world and with himself.

Sitting there alone on the cold stone floor of the Astronomy Tower, Harry gazed at the stars illuminating the night sky as he reminisced his ancestors' lives in brief. He wondered why he recalled the memories of these two specific ancestors. As he processed the memories, he slowly realized that Altaïr and Ezio both had quite a few things in common with him. They had endured hardships throughout their lives, they had loved and lost. Yet they had persevered and relentlessly pursued their goals.

Altaïr, although remaining often calm and controlled, sometimes allowed his anger to get the better of him. A cold and objective person, he fully devoted himself to the cause he chose to pursue. Altaïr had a rebellious nature; he was impetuous, demanding, arrogant, self-centered, and impatient. However, after the failure at Solomon's Temple and being sent after the nine, Altaïr began listening to the final words of his victims, and their justifications for their deeds. As his journey continued and his mission progressed, his attitude changed, and he began to perceive the lines and actions of the world, as well as draw upon the teachings of the Creed. At the end, all of his brash and rebellious nature was brought under control, and he became a calm, focused, driven and wise man. Smart and dedicated, his studies and determination to ensure 'peace in all things' ensured that the Order survived to fight for as long as was necessary. He understood that the new world would have no place for the current ways of the Assassins and thus changed its practices accordingly. A natural leader, Altaïr was one of the most respected and feared of the Order.

Ezio, on the other hand, was a seducer of women and a playful man. Initially, he allowed his emotions to get the best of him. However, he did manage to gain control of his anger and, by the time he had become a Master Assassin, could control it almost completely. That said, he was still prone to losing control of his emotions at the right trigger. By the time Ezio confronted Rodrigo Borgia, he had become more dedicated to his role as an Assassin, ceasing to use revenge as a motivation. He became more focused on instilling a sense of fraternity among his apprentices, and a love of the cultures they would defend from the Templars. He spared the lives of any targets that he concluded had no need to die. Ezio was also passionately loyal to his family.

Harry realized that he had quite a few common traits as his ancestors. Although he was not as intelligent as someone like Hermione, he considered himself to be above average. He knew that he would do almost anything to protect his friends. (As for the Dursleys, they weren't really a family to him.) And if he was completely honest with himself, he knew that he was impetuous and prone to losing control of his temper, though it hadn't happened publicly, yet.

But he was nothing if not determined, and with that thought in mind, Harry nimbly got to his feet. As he moved towards the door leading out of the tower, he abruptly halted as he thought about what he had to do. Here he was, once again starting to blindly charge into a new situation. First of all, he needed to make some plans for the future. After all he had seen in his ancestors memories, he had learned his lesson as to what happened to fools who blindly charged into unknown situations. While there was indeed a minor chance of success, common sense and history had taught him that there was a major chance that those fools would end up meeting the business end of a sword, spear, arrow or a lead bullet, depending on the situation.

Since he had no knowledge if the Assassin Brotherhood had prevailed and still existed, Harry knew that he had to depend upon himself and his ancestors' memories in order to train himself.

As for the Templars, even though he dearly wished that they had perished over the centuries, he knew that it was just a fool's hope. His ancestors had once compared the Templars to co*ckroaches; no matter how much one tried to exterminate them, they always somehow survived and came back to cause trouble for others.

But first of all, he had to deal with the situation at hand before he started planning anything else. Harry had realized it as soon as Hermione had used her Time-Turner that the person who had cast the Patronus which had saved them from the Dementors by the lake was himself from the future, so he still had to save Sirius and his own past self from the Dementors. As the young wizard glanced at his watch, visible in the light of the torches illuminating the tower, he noted that almost an hour and a half had already passed and it was almost time for the moon rise.

Moving towards the door, Harry wondered if Hermione for once followed his orders to free Buckbeak and behind the Greenhouses. Though the studious girl was very stubborn, he sincerely hoped for her sake that she listened to him for once. Quickly locking the door behind him with a deft flick of his wand and a whispered incantation, Harry moved down the dimly lit corridor towards the entrance hall, all his senses elevated due to the situation. Absentmindedly, he wished he still had his invisibility cloak with him so that he could swiftly move through the castle without the risk of being caught by any of the Professors or Prefects on patrol duty. As it was, he was carefully checking at each corner to confirm that the next corridor was empty.

Silently proceeding down the staircases, which had at last stopped moving randomly now that it was curfew, Harry gradually immersed himself into the instincts of his Assassin ancestors. He moved silently through the corridor, careful not to make any sound that might give him away. As he approached the main doors of the castle, Harry heard a set of heavy footsteps steadily moving towards him. As he concentrated on the sound, he automatically walked towards a shadowed alcove near the doors. From the heavy sound of the footsteps and the length of the person's stride, he mentally evaluated the person and concluded that it was most probably a male, about 6 foot, 180 pounds, and based on the swishing sound of a cloak, the person was most likely to be the Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

Hidden by the shadows in the alcove, Harry simply observed the Slytherin Head of House as he strode through the entrance hall towards the main doors. Without breaking his stride, Snape swished his wand in a sweeping motion at the door. A sudden cacophony of clicking and clunking erupted as the main doors unlocked themselves, the security spells and protections woven into the doors to protect the school from intruders slowly unraveling. Snape quickly exited the castle without even bothering to lock the doors again behind him.

Since it was to his advantage in this case though, Harry decided there was no point in being bothered about it. Quickly heading out of his hiding spot, Harry followed Snape at a safe distance, not that it mattered all that much, because it seemed that the Potions Master had tunnel vision as he almost sprinted towards the Whomping Willow and towards the secret entrance which lead to the Shrieking Shack. Harry recalled Snape's rant from the past, where he claimed to have seen the Marauder's Map and spotted Lupin's name heading towards the Shack. So Harry was quite sure that even if he was walking right next to the overgrown bat at the moment, the wizard wouldn't notice him.

But deciding it was better to not try and tempt fate, Harry just followed the beaten path, keeping Snape in his vision but at a distance where he could quickly hide in case the Potions Professor decided to turn around. The older wizard only stopped his march towards the Willow once, where he stooped and picked something lying on the ground. Harry assumed that it was his invisibility cloak that Snape was collecting, and though he dearly wished he could snatch it away from those greasy paws, the young Potter knew that he couldn't do that, as it would alter the sequence of events as they were supposed to happen.

His eyes glowed briefly and a low growl issued from his throat as he saw the Professor running his hands over the silky fabric of the invisibility cloak, but Harry calmed himself and continued to follow the other wizard.

Pursuing Snape from a distance turned out to be a good thing, because once he froze the Whomping Willow to stop the aggressive tree from smashing him to a pulp, he scanned the surrounding grounds briefly. Harry acted quickly and as soon as he saw Snape stop and raise his wand, he immediately dropped down onto the grass. The Slytherin wizard's eyes roved over Harry's position but did not spot the Gryffindor hiding in plain sight.

His examination over, Snape turned his attention back towards the Willow, or more specifically the tunnel entrance to the haunted house beneath the now-immobile tree. Before entering the dark tunnel, the Potions Master lit the tip of his wand, covered himself with the invisibility cloak and disappeared from view, directly into the hidden entrance.

As soon as Snape disappeared under the invisibility cloak, Harry got to his feet and moved as fast as he could towards the Forbidden Forest. He knew that the moon was soon about to rise and after a brief struggle between Lupin and Sirius, the werewolf would take off into the deeper parts of the Forbidden Forest. Sirius would also head into the forest to chase after Pettigrew, and he would head for the lake.

With a destination clear in his mind, Harry hastened down the path which would lead him to the forest and the lake where the Dementors would be attacking his past self and his godfather. Harry didn't know how he knew if he was heading down the correct way, but his instincts told him that this was indeed the correct route to the lake, so he decided to trust his instincts and continued into the forest.

He knew he was in the deeper regions of the forest. The sky was no longer clearly visible as the tree cover had increased and obscured the heavens. The bushes had also started to grow in size and grass was thicker. There were gnarled roots of dead willows and decaying oaks jutting out of the ground, which would have made navigating through the woodlands a difficult task.

Harry gracefully stepped over or around all obstacles almost unconsciously, his wand in hand. As visibility started becoming a problem, he lit the wand tip with a whispered "Lumos!", the lit wand providing enough light so that the wizard could see the path ahead of him clearly.

After a few more minutes of hiking through the forest, the Gryffindor finally saw a glimpse of the lake. The lake was calm, the surface smooth like a mirror, the water glowing a soft white, clear as crystal, pure as a blanket of snow, as it reflected the light of the full moon which had finally risen.

Glancing at the full moon and realizing that by now, Lupin must have transformed and headed into the forest, with Sirius following soon after, Harry hid himself behind a beech tree as he absently flicked his wand to cancel the light spell. The wizard patiently waited for his godfather to show up, mentally gearing himself up in order to cast the Patronus Charm when the Dementors started attacking his godfather, past-Hermione and past-Harry.

As the waited for Sirius to show up, he pondered upon the offer his godfather had made him earlier that evening. Although the offer was quite tempting, Harry knew that it would not be possible for him to leave the Dursleys and go live with his godfather. First, because even though his relatives would love to be rid of him for the summer, the young wizard was quite sure there was a reason why he had to spend his summer at Number Four Privet Drive. Although he wasn't sure why he had to live with the Dursleys in the first place, he knew that someone was responsible for him living there, someone who had influence. (And that influential someone clearly did not have his best interests in mind if the person was willing to send him to live with such horrible people.) Second, his only chance of freedom from the Dursleys, Sirius, was a wanted felon at the moment, so he clearly couldn't provide a place for him to live. In the eventuality that the Azkaban escapee was ever acquitted of his false charges, there might be a chance that Harry could live with him, given that the influential bastard who placed him with his relatives did not interfere in this case. So all in all, Harry was certain that his place of residence for the summers would remain unchanged in the near future.

Before his mind wandered off again, Harry noticed that the air around him had grown considerably colder. Recognising the distinct effects of the Dementors' aura, the young Gryffindor prepared himself to fight his worst fear and save his godfather and best friend.

Unconsciously, the grip on his wand tightened and unbidden, the words spilled forth, "Nulla è reale. . . tutto è lecito. . . "

Translations:

Nulla è reale. . . tutto è lecito. . . (Italian) - Nothing is true. . . everything is permitted. . .

I know the first half of the chapter might seem like a history lesson, but it was important that Harry (and you guys as well) knew how the war began and why it started. You may have noticed that I skimmed over quite a few events in Altaïr's and Ezio's lives, but if I tried to cover everything, this chapter would have been twice as long and ten times more boring. But I covered the events which will have some significance in this story.

(Version 2.0)

Chapter 4: Chapter 3 - The Black Liberation

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 3

The Black Liberation

Forbidden Forest

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

June 6, 1994

As adrenaline started pumping through his blood, his body and mind preparing for a battle against his worst fear, Harry activated his Eagle Vision to improve his visibility in the dark forest. Channelling magic into his eyes, the sixth sense activated and the world around him brightened. The trees glowed a dull grey from the magic flowing through them, and he could see faint wisps of red floating over the trees ahead, indicating that his foes were just above the forest.

His gaze turned towards the lake, green eyes glowing with a slight golden tint. The lake glowed a faint white, indicating that it could be used as a hiding spot. By the shore, he spotted three figures giving off a strong blue aura. These were his godfather, past-Hermione and his own past shelf.

Harry noticed that Hermione had already lost consciousness and Sirius was about to have his soul sucked out by a Dementor. But he knew that it wasn't yet the time to reveal himself. His past-self was still trying to save his godfather's soul, but due to the effects of the Dementors, he was struggling to stay conscious. Dull white light issued from the tip of the wand, forming a blurry shield around him and his godfather. The Dementors, sensing a weakening opponent, decided to press their advantage. More than hundred of the foul creatures swarmed around the boundary of the Patronus cloud shield, trying to breach the construct of positive emotions given form.

Chapter 5: Chapter 4 - End Of The Year Of The Dog

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 4

End Of The Year Of The Dog

Hospital Wing

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

June 7, 1994

When his eyes opened, the first thing he noticed was that the ceiling was completely white. Confused as to why his usually crimson ceiling had spontaneously changed it's colour, Harry slowly recalled the events of the previous day, and realized that he was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

He was completely still, pretending to be asleep while trying to determine what was going around him simply by listening. He could hear loud snores, which meant that Ron was still asleep, but he could also hear Hermione from the bed next to his, and it seemed that at least she was awake. It appeared that his acting still needed some improvement, because Hermione had somehow noticed that he was awake.

"Harry, are you awake?" she whispered. It wasn't loud, but in the silent infirmary, it was loud enough for him to hear.

"No, Harry Potter's not here. If you wish, you can leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. BEEP!" was his sarcastic reply.

Hermione's reply to the sarcasm was a punch. And after watching her sock Malfoy earlier this year, Harry knew that she could hit quite hard.

"Ouch! That hurt!" Although he knew he somewhat deserved it for his sarcasm.

"It was supposed to," was the heated reply.

Harry simply grinned at her, completely unrepentant.

Hermione's face showed her worry as she asked, "So what do you think is going to happen now?"

"I don't know. . . " he said, before he continued, "But my guess is that Sirius will probably be on the run with Buckbeak. I hope that Dumbledore will at least try to help him, but I'm not really sure how much he can help."

"What about Scabbers? I mean. . . Pettigrew?" she questioned uncertainly.

His face was completely blank, but his eyes were cold. "What about him? That bloody coward escaped, and even now he's making his way out of here, most probably towards where Voldemort might be hiding."

"What?!" Hermione was so shocked by the answer that she didn't even reprimand him for swearing.

Although his face was serious, his eyes held a glimmer of amusem*nt at her reaction. "'Mione, think about it. Pettigrew is a complete coward. Now that people know he's alive, he's aware of how much danger his life is in. So what does a coward do when their life is endangered? Seek out a powerful person to protect them."

"He can't go to the Ministry for protection because then everyone will know the truth. He can't go to other Death Eaters who are still roaming free out there, because as far as they are concerned, he was the one who led their Dark Lord to his defeat back in 1981. So if he goes to them, they will probably kill him," he said calmly.

"So for Wormtail, there is only one option left, and that is running to Voldemort?" she said, her voice trembling.

"Yes."

"Oh, Harry, what are we going to do?!" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"What can we do, Hermione?" said Harry bitterly. "We don't even know if Pettigrew will even succeed in finding wherever Voldemort is hiding. At this moment, we can't do anything but prepare for the eventuality of Voldemort's return."

"But what can we do, Harry?" she asked, stumped. Her forte was knowledge, not fighting.

"For now, nothing. Think of Divination, that is what we are doing! We are simply speculating what might happen. Who knows if it will even happen. Right now, we simply wait and try to mentally prepare ourselves," he said.

"We have the entire summer to think about it. Who knows, I might even write to Sirius and ask him for some serious advice," he added, trying to cheer up the worried girl.

It seemed to have worked, because she gave him a hesitant smile.

"Now get some rest. We have a Hogsmeade visit today, so I'm hoping we can have a peaceful day after last night's events," he said encouragingly.

Hermione nodded and tried to settle down in her hospital bed. Harry closed his eyes and decided to get some rest before he had to leave the blessed silence of the hospital wing and deal with the fallout of the previous day's incident. Before he was completely asleep, he heard Hermione's last comment which made him chuckle.

"I hate Divination!"

Castle Grounds

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

June 7, 1994

Harry and Hermione were released from the hospital wing at around noon and to escape the sweltering heat of the castle, they decided to take refuge under the beech tree by the lake. Ron had not been allowed to leave as his leg had not yet mended completely, and it required him to rest, which was why he was detained in the Hospital Wing until Madame Pomfrey decided that he was back to full health. Before they could be roped into keeping him company in the infirmary, the two Gryffindors decided to escape.

Currently, they were silently watching the giant squid lazily waving it's tentacles above the water, each lost in their own thoughts.

That was when someone decided to interrupt their ruminations, as they heard someone cleared their throat loudly. When they turned to look at the source of the sound, they found themselves looking up at the bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his eyes with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs as he beamed down at them.

"Know I shouldn' feel happy after las' night, but guess what?" he said.

"What?" said Hermione, acting innocent, while Harry rolled his eyes but kept silent.

"Beaky! He escaped! Bin celebratin' all night!" was the exuberant reply.

"That's wonderful, Hagrid!" exclaimed Hermione, giving Harry a reproving look when he snorted quietly.

"Yeah, simply wonderful!" exclaimed Harry with a grin. The situation was quite amusing to him.

Hagrid gazed over the castle lawns as he continued, "I was worried this mornin'... thought he mighta met Professor Lupin in the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin' las'. . . "

"What?" interrupted Harry sharply.

"Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" muttered Hagrid, his smile fading a little. "Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'... thought everyone; know by now... Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose in the grounds las' night. He's packin' now, o' course!"

"He's packing?" whispered Harry. "So he's leaving then."

Hermione fretted while Hagrid blew his nose in the handkerchief before he replied, "Yeah, resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can' risk it happenin' again!"

Harry got to his feet. Turning to his female companion, he softly whispered to her, "I'm going to see him. I'll meet you back in the common room."

"But he has resigned, Harry!" she tried to dissuade him.

"Nevertheless, I still wish to meet him," he said, before turning to their larger friend.

"Hagrid, I'm glad Buckbeak is free. Have fun celebrating. We'll catch up later," he said to Hagrid, before he turned towards the castle at a brisk pace.

Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

June 7, 1994

As he entered the classroom, Harry noticed that Lupin's office door was open. Striding up the stairway to the Professor's office, he glanced around and noted that most of his things were already packed. The Grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and almost full. Harry knocked on the open door and Lupin looked up from his desk.

"I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling as he pointed at the parchment which was the Marauder's Map.

Harry nodded. There was silence as the two looked at each other, silently observing the other. Lupin was the first to break the silence.

"I assume you've heard. . . " he trailed off questioningly.

Harry simply nodded, emerald eyes watching the older man silently. When the younger wizard didn't speak, Lupin started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

"The Ministry isn't responsible in any way for my resignation. Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighed before continuing, "I guess that was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he. . . er. . . accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"And that is the reason for your resignation?" queried Harry, finally breaking his own silence.

Lupin smiled wryly as he said, "Parents will not want a werewolf around their children, Harry. And I'm sure that by this time tomorrow, the parents will know and I will be forced out of this school. I simply chose to leave on my own terms rather than being tossed out."

After that, Lupin didn't speak as he turned around and carried on emptying his drawers.

Harry meanwhile had thought of a slight plan as he had made his way to Lupin's office, but before he could share his plan with the Professor, he decided to make sure that it was safe to do so. He activated his Eagle Vision to observe the man. He glowed blue, which indicated that he could be an ally. At least for now he could trust the man. After a few more seconds of observation, Harry turned off the sixth sense.

As Lupin continued his packing, Harry posed a question. "What are you going to do after getting out of here?"

The question surprised Lupin, as he stumbled while reaching for the next drawer. With a puzzled expression on his weathered face, the man pondered his question for a few seconds before replying.

"I'm not entirely sure what I'll be doing once I get out of here. I guess looking for a new job will be my first priority, now that I no longer teach here," said Lupin with a self-deprecating smile. "I still have some gold saved from my time as a Professor, so I'll be able to manage for some time."

Harry looked thoughtful as he pondered the man's answer.

"Have you thought about meeting up with Sirius?" he queried.

Lupin was once again surprised at the lad's question. "I hadn't thought about that, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Do you have a place to live?" asked Harry.

Lupin looked somewhat embarrassed at this, but he answered honestly. "No. My parents had a house, but I had to sell it when I couldn't pay for it's upkeep. For the past few years, I had been renting an apartment near the Leaky Cauldron in the Muggle world. I was considering returning there to check if it was still available."

"Why are you asking all these questions, Harry?" asked Lupin, now clearly uncomfortable.

"As I was coming up here, I made a plan which might be beneficial to both you as well as to our fugitive friend," said Harry with a small smile to put the other wizard at ease. "I apologise if my questions made you uncomfortable."

"No apologies necessary, Harry," assured Lupin hurriedly. "What were you planning?"

"As you've probably been informed, Sirius escaped last night with Buckbeak. But before all that, he'd asked me if I wanted to live with him if he was cleared of all charges," said Harry. Lupin nodded, gesturing for Harry to continue. "Well, I was wondering, if he offered me a house to live, then that means he already has a place where he can live, safe and hidden from the Ministry. Since you don't currently have a place to live, maybe both you and Sirius can live at his place. That way, you will have a house to live, and Sirius will have someone to keep him company other than a Hippogriff."

Lupin's eyes were wide as he heard Harry's plan. Harry was once more silent as he watched Lupin process his words.

"That. . . That could actually work, Harry!" exclaimed the werewolf, admiring the youth's simple yet effective plan.

Harry gave a small smile as he said, "Why don't you write a letter to him explaining the plan? You can borrow my owl Hedwig if you want."

Lupin nodded at the suggestion. "I'll do that before I leave, Harry."

The younger wizard nodded as Lupin once again went back to his packing. "So. . . tell me about your Patronus, Harry."

"You know about that?" inquired Harry, eyes narrowing slightly.

"What else could have driven the Dementors back?" Lupin replied distractedly.

"Well, I didn't see any shape or anything," lied Harry, wanting to keep the shape of the Patronus to himself. The shape of the Patronus was an intensely intimate thing, as it was the manifestation of all their innermost positive feelings, hopes and desires. It was like a person's Animagus form (which was a personal attribute) and could even be considered spiritual.

"Well, regardless, your non-corporeal Patronus was still powerful enough to have driven all those Dementors back, which is quite an amazing feat of magic for a wizard your age, Harry," Lupin said as he glanced at the younger wizard, a small smile showing on his tired face.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry nodded at the small compliment, returning a small smile in return to the now ex-Professor.

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers and turned to look at Harry.

"Here - I brought this back from the Shrieking Shack when I returned from the forest," he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. "And. . . " he hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map, too. "Considering I'm no longer your teacher, I do not feel guilty in returning this to you. I dare say you will find it of much use."

Harry held the cloak and the map in his, almost reverently, though he had to fight off the impulse to scrub the cloak thoroughly because Snape had sullied it with his greasy hands. Overcoming the impulse, he made sure the Invisibility Cloak was folded properly before he stuffed it in his pocket along with the Marauder's Map.

Lupin reached to close his case as he turned to speak with Harry. "Is your owl. . . Hedwig?" At Harry's nod, he continued, "Is she in the Owlery now?"

"Of course. Hedwig's pretty intelligent. Just go to the tower and call out her name, she'll come to you," Harry instructed, a fond smile showing on his face at the thought of his feathered companion.

Lupin nodded. He picked up his battered suitcase and was about the reach out for the empty Grindylow tank when there was a knock on the door. Both the current occupants of the room turned towards the door as to see that it was Professor Dumbledore, who didn't seem surprised at Harry's presence.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," the old man said.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Lupin replied with a respectful nod towards the elderly wizard before he turned to Harry.

"Well, goodbye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I'm quite sure you'll be hearing from me soon."

Though he said 'me', Harry got the feeling that Lupin was trying to convey that he would be hearing from both the werewolf as well as his godfather soon. So he simply nodded to the man, giving him a rare grin as he headed towards the door.

"Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage," Lupin said as he adjusted the Grindylow tank in his grip slightly to shake hands with Dumbledore.

"Goodbye, Remus," said Dumbledore soberly.

With a final nod and a swift smile to Harry, Lupin left the office, leaving Harry standing in the empty office with the Headmaster.

"Don't fret, Harry, Remus will be fine," Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence.

"I'm sure he will be, Professor," said Harry, before laughing bitterly, "After all, he's used to being treated as an outcast."

Dumbledore frowned slightly at that, but did not comment.

Harry glanced at the window, which gave a rather cheerful view of the castle grounds. It might be summer, but at the moment, a deceptively cool wind was blowing into the office through the open window, yet it did nothing to calm his internal turmoil.

"I know how werewolves are treated by almost everyone in the wizarding world, Professor. I understand that people are afraid that they might be infected with Lycanthropy, but werewolves are only dangerous on full moon nights," said Harry, his voice hard and laced with suppressed anger. "But wizards shun them, generally regarding them with fear and disgust. They are discriminated against and shunned by the society. People seem to think even when in human form, the werewolf may pose danger to them."

He gave a derisive snort as he continued, ''And they expect the werewolves to take this kind of treatment without retaliation? I'm not surprised they joined Voldemort's side during the last war. Even if they had to side with those same haughty wizards who were responsible for their situation, at least they were getting an opportunity to fight for their rights. Granted, their methods left a lot to be desired, but it was going to happen sooner or later."

Dumbledore continued to listen to his student's speech without interruptions, and when it appeared the young wizard had finished his diatribe, he finally spoke.

"I understand that you are upset about Professor Lupin's unfortunate situation, Harry, but may I ask what brought this on?" the Headmaster questioned, intrigued.

Harry finally looked at the aged man, his green eyes looking piercingly at the Headmaster through his round-framed glasses. (He had asked Madame Pomfrey to change the lenses to normal lenses as he informed her that he had another pair of glasses in his trunk and he would simply get the normal lenses changed later. The matron was quite confused at his odd request, but did as he asked without any questions.)

He sighed before he replied, "Pettigrew escaped yesterday, and I'm quite sure that he is heading to the mainland in search of his master. I'm afraid that soon another war is going to erupt, Headmaster, and I believe the Wizarding World is woefully unprepared for it."

With those ominous words, Harry headed for the door.

"I do hope you have an enjoyable day, Professor Dumbledore," he said, giving the Headmaster a brief bow before he left the room.

The young Potter left the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor's office, his steps silent, leaving a contemplative old man behind.

Hogwarts Express

Hogsmeade Station

Hogsmeade

June 25, 1994

The Hogwarts Express was about to depart and Harry Potter could be found in a compartment at the very end of the train, accompanied by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. While his two friends continued to argue over some inane topic, Harry gazed out of the compartment at the platform, where late students were trying to get their trunks and pet carriers on to the train before it left for London.

It was a scene of chaos as he could hear friends cursing each other for being lazy and laughing at the misfortune of their late classmates, helping them lift the heavy school trunks onto the train. He spotted Fred and George along with their friend Lee Jordan whispering about something, no doubt up to some new mischief. He could also see Ginny Weasley trying to help another blonde waifish girl lift her luggage into luggage carriage.

He continued to watch as the Hogwarts Express blew it's iconic whistle, signalling that the train was about the leave the station. Everyone hurried to get onto the train as the Express slowly but surely started moving, gaining speed as it left the Hogsmeade station. His emerald eyes looked at the scene, the Hogsmeade village made up of an assortment of shabby cottages and various shops, to the magnificent and imposing castle looming over everything, to the Forbidden Forest with it's towering trees and unsolved mysteries.

He had considered Hogwarts to be his home for the past three years, a place where he could be free of the Dursleys and their negligent care, free of Dudley and his cruel ways, free from the judging eyes of the neighbours and his classmates. He had imagined when was first introduced to the Wizarding World that things would be different, he had allowed himself to hope that thing get better in the future, that he would be free from prying eyes and judging stares, free of spiteful glares, but it appeared that nothing had changed. He had only traded one world for another. Nothing had changed. . .

With a jerk, Harry shook himself out of his sombre and pensive contemplation, while mentally berating himself for such lugubrious thoughts.

Hermione must have noticed his melancholy. When he turned around to look at the other occupants of his compartment after Hogwarts disappeared from view behind a mountain, he noticed that she was observing him, concern clearly visible in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Oh, cheer up, Harry!" she said sadly.

Harry stared at his best friend for a few seconds before offering her a small but honest smile.

"I'll be alright, Hermione," he said, gazing at the girl fondly.

Hermione was surprised by his reply, as it was not his usual "I'm fine!" or "I'm okay!", but she did not linger on it much and shuffled it to the back of her mind, instead focusing on their red-headed friend.

Said red-head looked constipated, as though he wanted to say something and it was simply too painful to hold it in for even one more second.

"Yeah, cheer up, mate!" he finally exploded, clearly excited about whatever news he was about to deliver. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work!"

While it was a tempting offer, Harry knew that this summer was going to be quite different for him. After watching the memories of his ancestors, he knew that even though they had driven back the Templars during their time, the enemy was not completely defeated and was still around.

This summer he had decided that he was going to throw himself into training, and had even come up with a mental exercise regimen which he had devised from the memories of his two ancestors. He had taken moves from both of their training and wanted to create something entirely unique for himself, something that was suitable for the modern and urban world.

Then there was the Templar threat. He knew that the enemy was not completely defeated, but he was not sure in which form they still existed out there. He knew from reading history books that the Order of the Knights Templar had been disbanded officially, but that didn't mean that the real Templars were actually gone. They were like a hydra; when one head was cut off, two more grew in it's place. They were like co*ckroaches; no matter how much one stomped on them or many of them were killed, new ones always managed to crawl out of nowhere. They had existed from the time of Cain and had throughout history changed their name and face to suit their needs, to disguise themselves and strike at the Assassins with overwhelming force. He had no idea which face the Templars had chosen to don in this modern times, but he needed to find out everything he could before he was able to do act.

He also needed to find out if the Assassin Order had survived, and if they did prevail against the Templar onslaught, he needed to locate them so that he could determine what had happened to the Brotherhood that his ancestors Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore had tried so hard to preserve.

He knew that he had a very busy summer ahead of himself, and even though a small part of himself wanted to indulge in such frivolities, he knew deep in his heart that he did not have time for such indulgences.

"Yeah. . . I bet the Dursleys will probably let me come. . . " Harry said after a moment as he put on a happy face at Ron's plan and acted as though his friend's idea had cheered him up a great deal.

Hermione seemed conflicted, but did not say anything as Ron took out his Exploding Snap cards.

The game continued uninterrupted until around noon, when the witch with the tea trolley arrived. Harry bought himself a small lunch, along with several sweets for later. After finishing his lunch, he was about to head out of the compartment towards the wash-rooms when he spotted something outside the large compartment window.

He could easily make out the flying form of his beloved owl Hedwig as she flew alongside the train, sometimes buffeted by an occasional gust of wind. He quickly opened the window to let her enter, but before he could close the window, he saw a small grey blur about to collide with his head. Before it could reach it's target, he snatched the owl into his hand, holding it in his grip very carefully.

Ron closed the window while Hermione closed the curtains to make sure no one peeked into their compartment through the doors. Hedwig settled on top the trunks in the overhead racks, regaining her usual dignified bearing.

The tiny owl nestled in his hand peeked it's minute head from between it's fingers and Harry noticed that it had a small letter clutched in it's small claws. A small tug relieved the owl of it's burden and he handed it to Ron so that he could open the letter, which was clearly addressed to him.

"It's from Sirius," Harry answered calmly to his friends' inquiring stares.

At this both Ron and Hermione were considerably excited. Before they could say anything, Harry decided to open and read the letter.

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you quickly.

I wanted to let know you that Buckbeak and I are in hiding, but I won't tell you where, in case this is intercepted. If you ever need me, send a letter through your owl. I am sure she will be able to find me again, she's quite smart.

I'll write again soon.

Sirius

PS: I would also like to apologise to your friend Ron for what happened that night. I thought he also might like to keep this owl, as a peace offering for attacking him that night.

Ron's eyes widened when Harry read the postscript. He glanced at the tiny owl in his hands which had started hooted excitedly and was nibbling on one of his fingers.

"K. . . Keep him?" he said uncertainly.

Harry shrugged as if to say "Your call, mate", while Hermione nodded encouragingly.

"I guess he's mine, huh?" said Ron happily as he realized that he had a new unique pet of his own.

Harry's gaze meanwhile was drawn to his own owl. While the snowy owl was perched on the top of the trunks, he noticed that she seemed to be clutching a small rolled-up piece of parchment in her talons. Realizing that it must be a message from Remus, Harry called out to his familiar.

At his call, she fluttered down and settled on his shoulder, nipping at his ear affectionately. Harry stroked her feathers and ran his fingers gently over her beak, surreptitiously removing the parchment in her talons and shoving it into his pocket without his two companions noticing.

Ron was obviously getting to know his excitable pet while Hermione had removed another tome from her bag to read, her own pet Crookshanks settled firmly in her lap, purring in pleasure as his mistress scratched him absent-mindedly.

Wanting to read Remus's missive in private, Harry decided to continue to his postponed trip to the wash-room. As he stood, Hedwig launched herself and once again perched on the trunks, settling down for a nap.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said to them. Both of them nodded distractedly, lost in their own worlds. With a snort of amusem*nt and a slight shake of his head, the last Potter left the compartment towards the nearest wash-room.

Moving swiftly through the empty corridors and avoiding the curious gazed of the occupants of other compartments, Harry made his way to his destination. Entering the room, he locked the door before he removed the rolled-up parchment from his pocket. For a moment he simply observed the letter, before he tapped it with his wand. As the letter unfurled it'self, he removed his defunct glasses to read the message, which was written in a very untidy script, probably composed in a hurry.

Harry,

I've caught up with Sirius and Buckbeak. I explained your plan to him and he has agreed to it. We will be scouting the place that Sirius is sure will be safe for both him as well as myself (for full moons, especially), and of course, for Buckbeak. As soon as we have acquired a safe place to live, I'll ask Sirius to send you a letter. I'm sure you must have received his letter by now, but we decided it was safer for everyone involved if Hermione and Ron did not know about our current plan. I hope you don't mind.

Remus

Well, at least now he had one less thing to worry about over the summer. He was glad that the two Marauders had found each other and were heading to a safe house. After twelve years in Azkaban prison, Harry was not entirely sure if his godfather would be all that capable of making logical decisions.

His task completed, the Novice Assassin pointed his wand at the letter and with a muttered "Incendio!", lit it aflame. The fire quickly consumed the piece of parchment and he tossed the ashes into the dustbin.

All evidence destroyed, he strolled towards his compartment, wand tucked in his trousers while muttering to himself, "Mischief Managed."

Platform 93/4

King's Cross Station

London

June 25, 1994

Stepping off the Hogwarts Express, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly loaded their trunks on the provided trolleys. Spotting the Weasleys standing near the barrier separating the two worlds, the trio made their way over to the family of red-heads. After suffering a rib-cracking hug from Mrs Weasley, followed by Hermione's bear-hug before she left with her parents, Harry moved towards the barrier wall past which his own 'family' awaited his return.

"I'll contact you about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after Harry as the dark-haired wizard wheeled the trolley bearing his school trunk and Hedwig's cage towards the wall. He simply nodded and waved in reply before he crossed the barrier into the Muggle world.

His eyes travelled over the crowd, trying to spot his own relatives in the throng. He immediately spotted Uncle Vernon (but not Aunt Petunia and Dudley) standing near one of the pillars, glaring suspiciously at everyone around them while muttering something under his breath. It seemed that the obese man had also spotted him, because he immediately trudged his way over to Harry.

"Hurry up, I haven't got all day! Some of us have actual honest jobs!" he snarled; it was probably Vernon Dursley's idea of a greeting.

"Hello to you too, Uncle Vernon," Harry said dryly. He tried not to smirk when his Uncle's eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide whether his charge was being respectful or mocking.

After a moment, the man grunted and started making his way towards the station exit. Harry followed silently, Hedwig's cage rattling along in front of him.

As they entered the parking area, Harry noticed that his Uncle had acquired a brand new company car.

Harry quickly let Hedwig out with instructions to head to Privet Drive, before he loaded his trunk into the boot along with the now-empty owl cage. As he closed the boot, he noticed a strange logo on the car, made up of three silver bars arranged in a triangle but never touching each other.

Shrugging, he got into the passenger seat, Uncle Vernon already having taken his own seat instead of helping his nephew load the heavy luggage into the car. As the oldest Dursley slowly pulled out the car from the King's Cross Station and onto the main road, Harry noticed the same odd logo he had seen just moments earlier dangling by a chain on the rear-view mirror. Deciding to take a risk, Harry looked at his Uncle.

"Uncle Vernon?" he asked politely. When Vernon grunted, his eyes still focused on the road ahead, he continued, "What is this logo?" pointing at charm hanging from the mirror.

The man grumbled for a moment before he answered, "A gift from Grunnings' latest customer. It's a very well-renowned company and they have placed quite a few orders for some special drilling apparatuses. This car was gifted to me as a gesture of goodwill." At he said that, there was an expression of smug satisfaction on Uncle Vernon's large pudgy face, as if that was the type of treatment he was entitled to from everyone.

He opted to risk one last question before his Uncle decided he had indulged him enough.

"So what's the name of this company, Uncle Vernon?" Harry questioned, remaining polite (for now).

The large, beefy man glanced at his smaller companion with narrowed eyes, before grunting as he replied, "Abstergo Industries. Now shut up, boy, and let me concentrate on driving!"

The rest of the journey to Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, was completely silent except for the noise of the car's engine as it roared towards it's destination.

I hope that you liked this chapter. I know it's mostly filler, but it lays the groundwork for the next chapter, which is when Harry begins his training.

Now that Vernon working with Abstergo, how will it affect Harry's plans?

(Version 2.0)

Chapter 6: Chapter 5 - A Dinner & A Duel

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 5

A Dinner & A Duel

Main Conference Room

Abstergo Research Facility

Philadelphia

July 6, 1994

"What is the status of our Projects, Dr. Vidic?" asked a bald man, who was wearing an obviously expensive suit and was seated behind an ornate desk in a moderately comfortable chair. His large frame was visible on the screen which was mounted on the wall of the conference room. The man on the screen was Alan Rikkin, current Vice President of Abstergo Industries.

"Yes, Vidic." This was spoken by another man who had a separate monitor to himself, mounted on the same wall.

"You have been requesting quite a lot of funding for your Animus Project." The speaker was a thin, bespectacled Asian man clad in simple formal clothes, his hands folded and his face devoid of any emotion. He appeared to be in his early 50s; the name of this particular individual was Mitsuo Nakamura. He was a research executive at the Lineage Discovery/Research and Acquisition department of Abstergo Industries.

The person who was being questioned by the two men was known by his colleagues as Dr. Warren Vidic, a scientist who was the head of research for the multinational corporate conglomerate known as Abstergo Industries.

Dr. Warren Vidic was an immaculate individual with a neatly trimmed beard which already had patches of white in it, and he wore a crisp white lab-coat over his regular clothes. The man was comfortably seated in the only occupied chair in the conference room, facing the two monitors mounted on the wall.

"Before I begin the briefing, I would, once again, like to request access to the artefact we loaned to the United States Navy for their Philadelphia Project. I'd like to study the artefact and see if it can be of any help in locating other similar artefacts," voiced Vidic as he focussed his gaze on Rikkin.

"You know that your request will be, once again, denied, Vidic," grumbled Rikkin as he glared at the scientist. "When the USS Eldridge manifested itself in the future for some time, we were damn lucky that they did not cause any temporal anomalies. We did collect enough data from the experiment to repair the original artefact, but Abstergo's Administration branch refused to move on with the project, citing paradox concerns. The project was then reviewed by the other board members and they all unanimously agreed with me that any object with the capability to manipulate time had to be contained. Therefore, we have moved the artefact to a secure storage location and sealed it permanently."

"But just think of what we can accomplish if we have such an artefact in our hands!" supplicated Vidic.

"And what if it falls into the hands of our enemies?" countered Nakamura, his expression grim. "If they acquire the ability to glimpse or travel into the future, they might become aware of our machinations and will try their best to ruin our plans."

"Or they could create a paradox and destroy the universe," groused Rikkin as he sipped from a glass of water.

"Yes, I understand," murmured Vidic with a grimace.

"Now please begin your report, Dr. Vidic," urged Nakamura with a firm nod towards to scientist.

"The Sophia Project, as you know, is moving along at its estimated pace. Any progress from this particular project has been - and shall continue to be - vital to my Animus Project," said Vidic, some arrogance seeping into his voice as he talked about the most important project of his life. "After the less than stellar success of the Surrogate Initiative, the Animus Project is our hope in locating the artefacts we require for our plans to succeed."

"Yes, yes, we are aware of your opinion about Director Bock's Initiative, so please do continue with your report, Vidic," said Rikkin in a condescending tone, a haughty sneer visible on his face.

"Very well," replied Vidic with a small sneer of his own. "Though the project's main goal was to study the information imprinted onto living human cells, our scientists scrutinized the way this information was passed on biologically from one vessel to another. Through an analysis of the cells' contents, and its impact on the progression of human development, we are attempting to grasp a better understanding of human physiology. The scientists working on the project are aiming to manipulate this process and thus, use it for future disease control and prevention measures. If we are successful, the Pharmaceuticals Division will have several new super-drugs to manufacture and sell, as a result of which our annual revenue will increase drastically."

"That is good news, indeed, Vidic," acknowledged Nakamura with a slight smile. Rikkin nodded his approval, then gestured for Vidic to continue his report.

"Our assets at NASA are working as instructed on a series of satellites for our Akashic Satellite Plexus. The satellites will be launched while disguised as Navigational satellites, Communications satellites and Earth observation satellites," stated Vidic, before continuing, "But since we are lacking the actual artefacts to install in the satellite, we are still far from completion. Also, the artefacts in our possession are currently being subjected to a lot of experiments to determine their powers and limitations, as well as training of new sleeper agents and assets in foreign countries, so we cannot install them in any of the satellites which can be launched in the next few years."

"If we cannot install the satellites with the artefacts, what is the benefit of launching them now?" asked Rikkin, his brow raised questioningly. "If they have no artefacts installed, they are next to useless for our plans, so why are we wasting our resources building these satellites?"

Vidic looked at Rikkin's image on the screen and suppressed a scowl. "While it is true that we cannot install an artefact in each of these satellites, our researchers have been working on developing satellites which will act as amplifiers of the artefacts power. These are very critical, since we do not know how many other similar artefacts are still out there. In the eventuality that we do not find artefacts to install in each of the satellites, our people are developing these satellites in such a way that our plan can be accomplished utilizing the artefacts we currently have in our possession."

"And what. . . " Before Rikkin could continue, he was interrupted by Vidic, who smirked at the Vice President.

"Also, while the primary function of the satellites is to amplify the power of the artefact in such a manner that it spreads over the Earth, you have to understand that I'm using the term 'disguise' very lightly," said Vidic arrogantly. "While acting as amplifiers, they are also fully functional Navigational satellites, Communications satellites and Earth observation satellites."

"And what is the purpose of all this?" questioned Rikkin with a slight scowl directed towards the scientist.

"Do you know the difference between a Earth observation satellite and a Reconnaissance satellite?" came the query from Vidic.

"Nothing, no difference at all," was the muttered answer from Nakamura, a frown visible on his face.

"Exactly," said Vidic, satisfied that someone was understanding what he was suggesting. "We can use these satellites for our own purposes. They can be used for spying on persons of interest or we can use them to locate the Assassins' bases. They have scramblers that prevent standard satellite imagery from effectively pinpointing our campus' various facilities. We can have the satellites in a Medium Earth Orbit or a High Earth Orbit. We can use them to transmit confidential data or we can use them to pilfer classified information from secure military communications networks. Maybe we can even use these satellites to locate new artefacts from space! The possibilities are endless!"

"Yes, Vidic, we understand that construction of these satellites in not a financial loss for Abstergo Industries, but a potential investment," said Rikkin as he rolled his eyes at the ebullient scientist.

"Yes, that is all well and good, but what about the incident which occurred during a recent mission involving one of the artefacts?" questioned Nakamura, his voice as dispassionate and dull as possible as he changed the subject.

"That was nothing but a minor incident," said Vidic with anger evident in his voice.

"One of our operatives lost control of himself during the mission and succumbed to the influence of the artefact, Dr. Vidic," retorted Rikkin with a scowl.

"I understand that there were some civilian casualties?" questioned Nakamura, a frown breaking through on his previous neutral expression.

"Yes, yes, a few people died," said Rikkin, shrugging with indifference at the news of the possible deaths, "But our clean-up crew was able to erase all evidence even hinting to the use of an artefact and just made the event look like a random shooting spree with a deranged assailant."

"And what about our operative? What is his current status?" asked Nakamura, his mask of neutrality once again predominating his face.

"The operative is still alive, but he has been in a coma ever since the incident," said Vidic impassively as he observed the screens. "Our doctors are making paramount efforts to revive him in order to find out more about what happened, but no conventional treatment seems to be working. His vitals are stable for now, but the doctors are still unable to wake him."

"Were there no cameras at the location? I was under the impression that this incident happened in a public place, so couldn't our people hack into the servers and retrieve the concerned footage?" questioned Nakamura, adjusting his glasses.

"We are lacking any actual footage of the event due to an electromagnetic pulse from the artefact," replied another voice, interrupting Vidic before the researcher could answer the question, "which was responsible for destroying all electronic instruments and gadgets within a perimeter of around a mile."

"Schmidt, what have you uncovered?" Nakamura inquired the new participant of the meeting without preamble.

The man who was being questioned stood over 6 foot and was heavily built. When entered the conference room, his footsteps were almost impossible to make out as he closed the door behind him and walked over to where Vidic was seated. Handing over a file to the scientist, the imposing man dressed in Fleck-tarn battle dress uniform sat down in a chair next to Vidic before opening his own file.

Otto Schmidt was an Operations executive for the Lineage Discovery/Research and Acquisition department of Abstergo Industries. He was a former soldier in the GSG 9 (German counter-terrorism and special operations unit) which specialized in cases of hostage taking, kidnapping, terrorism and extortion, so when he turned to other avaricious means of getting rich (that is, becoming a mercenary), he found himself to be quite successful in his new endeavour. However, he also found himself owing financial debts to quite a few individuals due to his nasty gambling addiction, and when he found himself unable to pay them back, he soon discovered why these people were considered dangerous. So when he was offered to either work for them or take a bullet to the skull, he chose to work for the people he owed, and that was how he found himself working for Abstergo Industries. He was a mercenary, and he always worked for the highest bidder, so it was not a loss for him in any way.

"Sir, our agents who were investigating the scene noticed a distinct lack of electrical activity in the area where the incident occurred. After further inspection, the techs determined that there was a sizeable electromagnetic pulse which seems to have originated in around the same area where our operative was located," said Schmidt as he read from the file. "They concluded that the source of the electromagnetic pulse was none other than the artefact."

"The electromagnetic pulse destroyed every electronic instrument or gadget in the immediate vicinity of the artefact," Schmidt continued.

"Won't there be suspicions about this particular phenomenon? It's not everyday that an EMP burst occurs in the middle of a busy city and destroys all electronics in the area," said Nakamura, looking over at Schmidt with beady eyes.

"We are well-connected, Mr. Nakamura," said Rikkin, once again participating in the conversation, with a smug look on his face.

Nakamura simply nodded at the reply and did not question the Operations executive further on the matter.

"Hmmm, our doctors think that the EMP seems to be the reason why our operative is still in coma," said Vidic as he looked over the report that Schmidt had handed him upon entering the conference room.

"Is that so?" muttered Nakamura with a flicker of interest in his dark eyes.

"Yes, it seems his body suffered a massive electrical shock when he was handling the artefact. There are no burns or any other visible signs of injury, but doctors say that his muscles are spasming uncontrollably and quite sporadically, and his heart rate seems erratic. It's stable for a time and then suddenly it becomes irregular," stated Vidic as he continued pursuing the file in his grip.

"Also, even though his body is in a coma, his brain is highly active. He is showing widespread activation of the occipital lobes, even though he is currently not receiving any visual stimulation!" exclaimed Vidic, looking visibly excited as he read the report. "This is highly unusual and fascinating! I may need to visit the medical facility accommodating the operative and see this for myself! It may even help me in developing a better interface for the Animus!"

Vidic looked like he was about to begin a harangue, but was interrupted by Schmidt before he could truly begin.

"Excuse me, Dr. Vidic, but I'm afraid there is something else we need to discuss before this meeting ends," stated Schmidt as he eyed the researcher.

At this, the other three participants of the meeting focused on the Operations executive. When he received a nod from Rikkin, he continued, "While our clean-up team was efficient in cleaning up evidence of the aftermath of the incident, it seems they were unaware of a witness who escaped the area before the team could neutralize them."

"Oh?" murmured Rikkin as he turned visibly angry. He visibly restrained himself before he spoke, "And how did your people realize that they let a witness escape?"

Otto Schmidt was a professional and as such did not let the angry expression on the face of his superior distract him as he responded, "We received an email from an unidentified individual. We tried to trace it back to its origin, but the techs have so far been unsuccessful in locating the source."

"Well, if you are in a divulging mood, would you mind revealing what the contents of this email are?" asked Vidic, scowling horribly.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID! I SAW HIM! HE HAD A METAL BALL! IT GLOWED! THEY WENT CRAZY! SHOOTING! STABBING! TORE EACH OTHER TO PIECES! I KNOW IT WAS YOU PEOPLE! SAW THE LOGO! HEARD THE NAME! I'M GOING TO TELL! ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN! YOU'LL BE EXPOSED! THEY'LL KNOW THE TRUTH! AND THEN YOU WILL PAY! YOU CRAZY BASTARDS! YOU'LL PAY!"

As Schmidt read the contents of the email out loud, Rikkin actually let out a snarl of outrage at the threat in the letter, but before he could do anything else, the more level headed member of the meeting, Mitsuo Nakamura, interrupted.

"While I understand that you are upset over the ostensible threat in this email, Rikkin, I urge you to think rationally. As you said earlier, we are well-connected," he intoned calmly. "One lone individual will not be able to bring down our company, let alone pose a credible threat to our organization. I suggest you continue to quietly search for the source of this email, but otherwise just let go of this matter."

Rikkin relaxed at the older man's words and seemed to ponder for a while before he nodded his agreement to the proposed plan of action. To Schmidt, he said, "Continue to search for this person, but do not waste too much resources on them."

Schmidt gave a brisk nod at the command and stood to leave. Before he could leave, however, Rikkin stopped him with a query.

"Oh, Schmidt, I forgot to ask, what is the status of our new operation in London? I was informed that we were successful in making a deal with a drill-manufacturer for the next stage of our operations. Do you have any news on that front?" asked Rikkin as he focused on the former soldier.

"Oh yes, Sir. Our agent at the UK branch was able to secure a deal with a drill-manufacturer known as Grunnings Drills," recalled Schmidt. "It is a medium-scale drill-making company located in Surrey, England. The Director of the company is one Mr. Vernon Dursley."

"Any idea why our people chose this particular company? Or this particular individual?" inquired Vidic with a curious look.

"The Head of the UK branch claimed that since it was comparatively small company, we won't come under much scrutiny from our 'opponents' as they won't even notice this deal," replied Schmidt with a small grin at the mention of their enemies. "Also, the agent noted that Mr. Dursley is a particularly greedy individual who can be controlled with just the right amount of money. So, in essence, he is going to be our puppet and we'll have acquired a base to launch our operations in Europe and the Middle-East."

"That is excellent news, Schmidt," said Rikkin as he smiled, displaying two rows of sparkling white teeth.

"Yes, this is indeed good news," muttered Nakamura as he closed his eyes and nodded to himself.

"I also have some news to share," spoke Vidic after a few moments of silence. When the others nodded at him, he continued.

"It seems Daniel Cross, dubbed Subject 4, has been suffering from Bleeding Effect, and the episodes are getting a little serious. His observer informed me that during his last seizure, he injured his girlfriend a little when he suffered the hallucinations," stated the scientist.

"And. . . ?" prompted Rikkin with a condescending tone.

"And I'm concerned whether the conditioning will hold or whether he will lose his mind before he finishes his mission," said Vidic, with an angry glare directed towards Rikkin for the patronizing manner in which he was speaking to the researcher.

"Well, if he fails his mission, we have countless other operatives and assets who are just as suitable for the task," spoke Schmidt from where he stood behind Vidic.

"I know. Despite all that, Subject 4 is very unique, and I'd like to see him succeed," muttered Vidic as he glanced at the former mercenary.

"Well, if no one else has anything else to add, I think we should conclude this meeting," suggested Nakamura, glancing at his wrist watch. "I have other business I need to attend to."

When Vidic and Schmidt nodded, all four people bowed their head and chanted out loud.

"May the Father of Understanding guide us!"

These four men were no ordinary men. These four men were high-valued individuals working for Abstergo Industries. They were also members of the Inner Sanctum of the Templar Order.

Little Whinging Play Park

Little Whinging

Surrey

July 8, 1994

"Ninety-one. . . "

"Ninety-two. . . "

"Ninety-three. . . "

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry looked up from his position parallel to the ground towards the source of the voice which had interrupted his morning exercise routine and noticed that he was being observed by his cousin Dudley.

"Ninety-four. . . "

"Ninety-five. . . "

"Hey, I'm speaking to you, Potter!" shouted Dudley when his cousin did not immediately respond to his call.

Releasing a slow and long breath, Harry stood from where he was doing push-ups on the parched grass of the park to look at the teenager who stood before him with his beefy arms crossed over his chest, trying to make himself look intimidating.

"Good morning to you too, dear cousin," said Harry as he slowly began stretching his quite sore muscles.

Dudley sneered at the greeting, but Harry did not spare him much thought as he continued to cool down after the intense morning workout.

It was still quite early in the morning and only an hour past sunrise. A deceptively cold breeze was blowing across the empty park but Harry couldn't complain as the cool wind did wonders in lowering the temperature of his sweat-covered body.

"Potter," growled Dudley, "It's almost time for breakfast, so what are you doing out here? Don't you have to cook something?" A scowl was visible on the larger teen's face as he jealously noticed the well-defined biceps and thighs which were visible through the singlet and shorts his cousin was wearing.

Harry was not bothered by the tone at all. He finished his stretching and moved towards the bench where he had stacked his towel and a bottle of water. The bench was old, paint was peeling off from many places and rust was quite visible, but the young wizard was unperturbed as he flopped on it and took a huge gulp from his bottle while wiping his sweat-covered face with the towel.

After a few gulps, Harry looked at his cousin with a flat stare. "Dudley, I'm sure you remember the special diet your lovely school nurse recommended for you. Aunt Petunia has been following it meticulously and as such, I'm pretty sure that all I have to do for today's breakfast is cutting the grapefruit into quarters."

Dudley scowled but before he could continue, Harry interrupted him.

"While I'd love for you to continue with this early morning ostentation, Dudley, I'd like to remind you that it's almost time for breakfast, and Uncle Vernon has to leave for a very important meeting, if you remember," said Harry, looking at his cousin. "I have to get breakfast on the table in fifteen minutes and you have to get the mail from the mailbox."

With that, he collected his things and broke into a jog towards Number Four Privet Drive, slowly picking up speed as he sprinted, leaping over the low hedges which made up the border of the park. He continued running, accelerating past a dark alley adjacent to a boarded-up garage. Absently, Harry recalled that this was the exact location where he saw his godfather for the first time during his hasty departure from Privet Drive last year, although the Azkaban escapee was in his Animagus form at that time.

He traversed Magnolia Road and Wisteria Walk before reaching the corner of Privet Drive. He noticed that although it was a weekday, the street was almost empty.

Only Mrs. Number Six was out, tending to her front yard. When she noticed him, she glanced at him for a while and paused as she took in his lithe form jogging across the road. This amused Harry a bit as this was not the first time he had observed Mrs. Number Six tending to her front garden; he was quite sure that her tidily-trimmed green hedge did not require trimming every morning. Shaking his head in quiet amusem*nt, he simply smirked at the young housewife as he slowed down from a jog to a brisk walk. The woman must have noticed his gaze, because she blushed a little and turned away from her inspection, returning to tending her diligent trimming of the painstakingly even hedges. The teenager's smirk widened a little at his neighbour's actions.

Reaching Number Four, he slowly opened the front door, trying not to make any noise and let his relatives know about his arrival. He quickly and silently bounded up the stairs two at a time and reached the smallest bedroom of the house. While the door still had padlocks on it from a few years ago, they had not been used this year, at least for now. Grabbing a change of clothes, Harry made his way to the bathroom shared he shared with Dudley.

Even though it was summer, he still opted for a hot shower to relax his sore muscles. The hot spray of water cascading down his body was soothing for the young wizard as he leaned against the tiled walls of the bathroom. He quickly finished his shower and towelled himself dry clothing himself and heading to his room.

Upon entering the smallest bedroom of the house, he noticed that the owl cage resting near the window was still unoccupied, which meant that Hedwig had still not returned from her regular nightly hunting sessions. Filling her water tray with some water from his bottle, he tossed into the adjoining food tray a few owl treats which were filched from his school trunk.

Hanging the soaked towel near the window, Harry proceeded to head down to the kitchen. As he was descending the stairs, he heard the front door open and heavy footsteps that followed as Dudley stomped his way into the house. The youngest Dursley did not notice his cousin as he made his way into the sitting room with the newspaper clutched in his hands, a thin sheen of perspiration visible on his pink face showing that he had exerted himself as he made his way from the playground to the house.

"Ah, Dudley, you're back from your walk! Good, good," came the voice of Vernon Dursley as he noticed the arrival of his son. Dudley did not reply as he tossed the paper to his father before collapsing on the pouffe which Uncle Vernon mostly used to rest his feet.

Harry just shook his head at the scene and continued to walk towards his destination, the kitchen. He noticed upon entering that Aunt Petunia was bustling about the place rearranging cutlery on the table. Upon noticing his entrance, she huffed before nodding towards the platform.

"Get to work, boy. It's almost time for Vernon to leave for work and I do not want him to skip his breakfast," snapped Aunt Petunia.

Harry simply nodded and got to work. He cut up the grapefruits before quickly placing them onto Vernon and Dudley's plates. Both the Dursley males received a grapefruit each while the third grapefruit was shared between Harry and his aunt.

His sensitive ears picked up the creaking of the floorboards and he looked up to see Uncle Vernon and Dudley making their way to the table. Vernon's face was hidden behind the newspaper while Dudley was still wiping the sweat from his face. Both the Dursleys took their usual place at the table, their respective chairs squeaking in protest at the weight.

The rest of the breakfast continued in that vein, with Dudley scowling at the grapefruit in his plate, Aunt Petunia daintily finishing off her own portion and Uncle Vernon reading the morning's Daily Mail in-between bites of his grapefruit and muttering under his breath all the while about 'rabbit food'.

Harry quietly polished off his own breakfast and then quickly rinsed his plate. Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, he was stopped at his uncle's voice.

"Boy!" came the elder Dursley's shout.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" replied Harry, keeping his tone polite.

"I hope you remember what day it is," said Vernon with a glare directed at his nephew.

Harry nodded, but Vernon did not notice as he continued his speech. "After my meeting at Abstergo, some of my new business associates are going to join us for dinner. And I do NOT," he actually growled, "want a repeat of what happened with the Masons. Do you understand, boy?"

The teenage wizard nodded his understanding. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon still glared at Harry with beady eyes full of suspicion, but after a few seconds, he decided that his nephew was not messing around and returned to his reading.

Harry simply shook his head and headed to his room, intent on getting some actual nutritional food from the secret compartment below the loose floorboard in his room.

Getting out some of the sugar-free snacks he had received from Hermione, Harry munched away while planning what he would do for the rest of the day. He had already finished many of the week's regular chores such as weeding the garden, trimming the hedges and clearing the garden shed. With those tasks complete, he would not be bothered by Aunt Petunia for the next week, so he was free to do what he wanted.

Finishing half of the packet of snacks, he folded up the rest and hid it back under the loose floorboard. Sitting back on the only chair in the room, he turned to face the repaired desk and picked up the book lying on it. The book belonged to Dudley, and it had found itself tossed into the garbage as soon as he received it on his birthday. Harry didn't know if it was fate or some such divination nonsense, but when he saw the title of the book, he was a little amused at the absurdity of it. 'The Drawings of Leonardo da Vinci' was quite an interesting book as he flipped through the first few pages filled with diagrams upon diagrams made by the Renaissance artist; he had to admit that he would have liked to meet the painter personally, since he was quite a close friend to Ezio and was vital in helping the Auditore Assassin as well as the Brotherhood on quite a few occasions.

It was a few hours later when his stomach rumbled and when Harry noticed the time in the cracked glass of the old clock by his bedside table, he could not believe that he had been reading the book for almost four hours. Knowing that he had missed lunch and that he would not be getting any food from Aunt Petunia's kitchen, he decided to try out a little restaurant he had located during one of his early morning jogs.

Replacing the book in its place, he headed to the trunk and filched out his money pouch. The leather pouch contained quite a few gold coins or 'Galleons' as they were known in the Wizarding World, along with a few silver 'Sickles' and bronze 'Knuts'. But the pouch also had quite a lot of normal money; money he had 'liberated' from Dudley's secret stash in his room. Dudley had never found out where the money disappeared, and even if he did ever find out, the youngest Dursley could not complain to his parents about it because it was money he had stolen from some kids in the park after beating them up, just so that he could purchase some sweets.

Pocketing the money, Harry headed out of the room and down the stairs. He could hear Aunt Petunia in the kitchen, probably cleaning up after lunch, and he could hear Dudley in the living room watching some random programme on the television.

"I'm going out, Aunt Petunia. When do you want me to be back to help you in preparing for dinner?" queried Harry as he spotted Aunt Petunia in the kitchen, arranging her cutlery in the dresser.

The woman in question glared at the disturbance before she replied, "Be back in two hours. And don't you dare. . . "

"I won't be late, Aunt Petunia," interrupted Harry before his aunt could begin her tirade.

Petunia sniffed haughtily before she nodded and returned to her work. Harry took that to be his signal to leave, so he quietly made his way out of the house towards his destination.

The walking down to the restaurant was a short walk, especially at the brisk pace Harry adopted.

He quickly sat down at the nearest table which afforded him a view of the entire restaurant as well as the exit. He did not have to wait for long before he was attended by a gorgeous well-endowed waitress with long auburn hair and Nile blue eyes. She had a willowy frame and looked about his age, perhaps a year or two older.

"Hello, welcome to Shephard's. I'll be serving you today, my name is Hannah," the waitress, Hannah, introduced herself with a dainty smile.

Harry returned the smile. "Hello, I'm Harry," he said with a small, polite nod.

"Here is our menu, Sir. Can I get you something to drink?" asked Hannah as she handed the wizard a menu.

Harry took the menu and browsed through the choices, before replying, "A glass of water will suffice, thank you."

The girl nodded. "Do you need a little time to decide?"

"A little, yes," replied Harry as he continued looking through the menu. Hannah pocketed her ticket pad and walked away, returning a few moments later with a glass of water, which she placed in front of Harry.

At the sound, Harry looked up from the menu. "Hannah, I'm ready to place my order."

"Yes, what would you like to have?" asked the waitress as she prepared to take his order.

"I'd like the Herby toad in the hole," said Harry as he placed the menu card on the table. Hannah picked up the menu and tucked it under her arm.

"Certainly," she murmured as she wrote down his choice. "Your order will be ready soon."

With that, she left to attend the table next to him. As he took a few sips of water, Harry glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and noticed her fleeting looks, though he could not fathom the reason why.

He continued to observe the other patrons in the restaurant as he waited for his lunch to arrive. Most of them looked to be working individuals who were having a late lunch with their business associates or making time for their significant other and children. He noticed their tired eyes and general weariness, but they still tried their best to maintain a happy demeanour for their families and friends despite their fatigue.

His eyes gravitated towards the small family seated at the table next to him. He closed his eyes and focused on their conversation. The father was listening patiently as his 5 year old son animatedly informed him about his day at school while the mother was exasperatedly trying to wipe the pasta sauce smeared all over her child's face with her napkin.

Harry smiled wistfully at the scene, but continued to listen to the conversations taking place between the other occupants of the restaurant.

After nearly half an hour of merely observing the different individuals having their lunch, he was politely interrupted by the sound of someone softly clearing their throat. He opened his eyes and glanced upwards to notice that Hannah had returned with his lunch.

Hannah placed the plate of steaming food before him along with a clean napkin folded neatly over his knife and fork. She refilled his glass of water before asking, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you, Hannah," replied Harry with a affable smile as he laid the napkin across his lap. He ate slowly, savouring each and every bite of the delectable dish. He tasted the dominating pungent, astringent flavour of rosemary, along with the slightly peppery but warm flavour of sage, and the spicy but succulent Cumberland sausage. After efficiently polishing off the entire plate and gulping down the full glass of water, he wiped his mouth with the napkin.

As he set down the knife and fork in the empty plate, he noticed that Hannah had once again arrived at the table. When the young wizard looked at her questioningly, she asked, "I hope you enjoyed your food. Would you like to see the dessert menu?"

Harry shook his head. "The food was delicious, but I'm full, thank you," he replied with a small grin.

"I'll bring the check right out, then," she said as she refilled his glass before picking up the empty plate and hastening towards the back. She returned a moment later with the check, then returned to attending the other tables. He glanced at the check briefly, removed his money pouch, counted the appropriate amount and placed the neatly folded notes in the check book, along with a substantial tip for Hannah the waitress.

Pocketing his leather pouch, he stood to leave. He noticed Hannah gazing at him from behind the counter. Harry graced her with a small smirk and when she saw that he had noticed her not-so-subtle glances, she blushed slightly. Ducking her head, she hurried to the table he had occupied and picked up the check book.

Harry noticed her slipping the tip into her pocket as he closed the doors of the restaurant behind him. With a lazy grin affixed on his face, he continued his jaunt towards his current destination: the abandoned park.

He found the park to be empty as usual. He climbed over the rusted gate and headed to his regular spot under the ancient oak tree that grew in the small wood which lay at one end of the playground.

Sitting on the soft, green grass under the shade of the oak tree, Harry crossed his legs and leaned against the rough bark of the tree. He pocketed his glasses (which he did not need, but still wore for the sake of appearance) and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he adopted a traditional meditation pose. His back was straight but not tense. His head was tipped a little forward with the chin slightly tucked in. He kept his shoulders level and elbows slightly away from the sides to let air circulate. resting his hands in his lap, palms facing upward, the right hand on top of the left, with the tips of the thumbs slightly raised and gently touching.

He was aware of the rising and falling of his abdomen as he breathed in and out, but he did not make any conscious effort to change his breathing patterns, just breathing normally. He focused on breathing and only breathing. He did not think about his breathing, just attempted to know it and be aware of it, trying not to think of anything else. He was aware of the sensation of the breath as it entered and left the nostrils, letting the rhythm remain normal and constant. He concentrated on it completely to the exclusion of everything else.

He maintained this single-pointedly with each inhalation and exhalation until his mind become peaceful and alert. Gradually, the numerous distracting thoughts slowly subsided and Harry experienced a sense of inner peace and relaxation. His mind felt lucid and spacious, and he felt refreshed. When the otherwise incessant flow of distracting thoughts was calmed through concentrating on the breath, the mind became unusually pellucid and clear.

Once his mind was absolutely tranquil, he concentrated on his body. He focused on each individual body part in turn and consciously relaxed it. He concentrated on the sensations he could feel in his toes, and made a conscious effort to relax any contracted muscles and release any tension or tightness. Once the toes were fully relaxed, he moved on to his feet and repeated the relaxation process.

Harry continued the relaxation process along his body, slowly moving upwards from the feet to his calves, knees, thighs, buttocks, hips, abdomen, chest, back, shoulders, arms, hands, fingers, neck, face, ears and top of his head. Once he completed the relaxation of each individual body part, he focused on the body as a whole and enjoyed the sensation of calmness and looseness he had achieved. He remained focused on his breathing for several minutes before he came out of the meditation practice.

When he opened his eyes, instead of the bright light of the mid-day sun, the world around him appeared as though he was looking out through a dark cloth covering his eyes. The whole world appeared to be dull grey and colourless. When he looked around, he could see the oak tree glowing a dull white. The birds nesting in the trees glowed a dull red, so did a stray dog scampering through the playground. He saw a few people loitering outside the gate of the park, but they simply appeared a dull white.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened his eyes again, his normal vision was restored. As he felt for his glasses, he pondered on the new ability he had acquired. He realized that when his ancestors had named the ability as Eagle Vision, it was named quite appropriately. When the ability had activated, it had corrected his horrid eyesight and made it perfect. Now he could see everything with much more clarity than he ever could, even with his glasses. He had observed his newly-healed eyes in the mirror and had noticed that his pupils had increased in diameter. He had read about eagles in one of the many books littering his bedroom.

Eagles' eyes are extremely powerful, having up to 3.6 times human acuity, which enables them to spot potential prey from a very long distance. This keen eyesight is primarily attributed to their extremely large pupils which ensure minimal diffraction of the incoming light.

Perhaps that was what happened when a human activated the Eagle Vision. Indeed, this special gift could be the reason why Altaïr - who was 92 years old when he died - had boasted perfect eyesight until the day of his death. Ezio too had never suffered from any degradation in vision and possessed a sharp vision until his eventual death. Well, no matter the reason, Harry was happy with his newly healed eyes and he wasn't going to complain about it.

He got up, dusted off his pants and headed back to Number Four Privet Drive. Reaching the house, he quickly ascended the stairs, first heading to the bathroom to freshen himself up before descending the stairs to assist his Aunt in the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia was seated in her chair at the dining table, reading one of her usual gossip magazines. When she noticed him, she slammed down her reading material and stood up.

"About time you got back, you ungrateful brat," she hissed with a scowl.

She drifted over to the stove and motioned for him to join her. He acquiesced and strode over to the stove. She showed him the list of what she wanted to be prepared for the special dinner that evening. Harry nodded as he saw the items to be prepared for dinner and got to work.

After three hours of hard work, the dinner was ready. The starter was a deliciously sweet and creamy roasted parsnip and parmesan soup. The main course was lemon and thyme butter-basted roast chicken and gravy. Finally, for dessert they would be having the classic summer pudding served with clotted cream.

Aunt Petunia was adding her final touches to the dessert for the night by arranging raspberries, blackberries and strawberries on top of the pudding. She was almost done when they heard Uncle Vernon's car pull up in the driveway.

"MUM! DAD'S BACK!" shouted Dudley as he attended the front door.

"Boy, leave the pudding in the fridge and clean up the kitchen. Then get yourself cleaned up and make yourself presentable," commanded Aunt Petunia imperiously as she bustled out of the kitchen to greet her husband.

"Pet, our guests will be arriving in half an hour! Is everything prepared?" questioned Vernon as he impatiently waddled his way into the house.

"Yes, Vernon, everything is perfect!" exclaimed Petunia as she lightly kissed her husband's cheek before taking his office bag from his hands. "Now we just have to get ready before they arrive!"

"Alright, Pet, I want you to put on your best dress. Dudley, wear the new suit we got for you. Meet me down here in fifteen minutes. We have to run through tonight's schedule one more time."

Both mother and son nodded as they hurried to their respective rooms to get dressed. As soon as the two disappeared, Vernon rounded on his nephew. A scowl was visible on his face as he looked at Harry.

"Boy, this is the most important deal of my life. If you spoil this like last time, you will wish you were never born, understood?" snarled Vernon, his face slowly changing colour and turning red.

"I understand completely, Uncle Vernon," said Harry respectfully, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes at the larger man's inane threat.

"Our guests know about you, so we can't lock you up in your room like last time and pretend you're not there," grouched Vernon with contempt at the thought of allowing his nephew to meet 'normal' people.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, before asking, "If you don't mind me asking, how did they find out about me?"

"Don't ask foolish questions, boy!" yelled Vernon as he trudged up the stairs, the wood creaking dangerously under his weight.

'Good thing I'm not sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs. It's a wonder how those stairs survived for so many years under such abuse,' thought Harry to himself as he heard the protesting noise made by the stairs.

"Don't ask questions, boy!" muttered Harry sarcastically to himself. "Still haven't changed at all, even after all last year's incident."

He swiftly climbed the steps with an easy grace that he did not possess before. He washed himself and dressed in the cleanest plain white buttoned shirt and charcoal grey trousers, along with grey socks and recently polished plain black shoes, which were a part of his Hogwarts uniform. He did not put on the red-and-gold striped Gryffindor house tie or the charcoal grey sleeveless jumper, because he was sure that Aunt Petunia would no doubt recognize the red-and-gold tie as well as the Gryffindor crest on the jumper. And he was in no mood to listen to another one of her long-winded rants in her annoyingly shrilly voice.

He began to comb his hair, but as always, the trademark midnight-black hair of the Potter family was still as untameable as ever and it looked more and more like a lion's mane with each attempt to make it lay down, so he just left it as it was.

He checked his appearance in the mirror. His face had lost almost all of the baby fat and looked much more angular, with his cheekbones becoming prominent, giving him a rugged, but aristocratic, look. The lack of glasses made his almond-shaped emerald eyes stand out. He noticed that he had also grown taller by a few inches. The shirt he was wearing was a little tight as it stretched across his broadened chest and shoulders. His arms were noticeably more muscular as the cloth of the shirt was fitting quite snugly around his biceps.

'Well, looks like all my exercise and hard work is paying off,' thought Harry as he continued to observe himself.

The changes in his appearance were not the only changes he could feel. After merely 10 days of the intense exercise regimen, which included push ups, dips, pull ups, crunches, squats, jogging, sprinting and free-running, he could feel a significant increase in strength, stamina and endurance. His body felt a lot more flexible and loose, he could sprint for a longer time and cover larger distances, he could easily jump over obstacles in his path and he could easily lift heavy weights.

But the physiological development was also accompanied by notable cognitive transformation. The regular meditation exercises had certainly made him calmer and much more able to control his emotions. He had noticed improvement in his working memory or 'short-term memory', making it easy for him to remember things much more clearly. There was a boost in executive functioning and visuospatial processing, so he could comprehend things easily. (And it also made comprehending and producing languages easy, which was especially helpful, because though he had memories of speaking and reading Arabic and Italian from his ancestors, that did not mean he had knowledge of the language. Because of meditation, he had been able to incorporate the knowledge of the two foreign languages - to which he had no previous exposure - within the span of a few days.) He had also noticed that his attention and ability to concentrate on a task had also increased. Meditation had also helped his ability to cope with anxiety and depression.

Harry was rudely interrupted from his reverie by Uncle Vernon's holler. "Boy! Get down here!"

"Coming, Uncle Vernon!" Harry shouted back as he pocketed a handkerchief from his trunk. He sighed, before exiting the room and making his way down. When he entered the sitting room, he immediately noticed his uncle and cousin dressed in dinner jackets and ridiculous bow ties. He had to visibly restrain himself from laughing at their appearance. Their clothes were straining as they attempted to contain all the blubber that made up most of Vernon and Dudley Dursley. Antithetically, Aunt Petunia's navy blue co*cktail dress appeared to be a little large on the blonde woman's skinny body.

As soon as his the elder Dursley male noticed him, he scowled. "Well, now that everyone is here," he grumbled, "I believe we should go over. . . "

Before the beefy man could continue, he was cut off by the sound of a car stopping in front of the house. His eyes widened as he realized that his guests for the evening had arrived.

"Quick, take your positions! They're here!" he said hoarsely, trying not to let his nervousness show.

Aunt Petunia moved over to stand by the sofa and Uncle Vernon moved towards the entrance of the room. Dudley toddled towards the front door and Harry sedately followed his much larger cousin.

The Smeltings Academy student opened the sturdy oak door, which swung open noiselessly, and was about to greet their guests when he suddenly froze, his mouth hanging open stupidly, not making any noise. When Harry looked up from his observation of his fingernails to determine the reason why Dudley was not welcoming their guests, he realized the reason why his cousin was just making a fool of himself.

There in the doorway stood a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. She was tall, dressed in a form-fitting black dress which hugged her curvaceous frame in all the right places, especially her ample bosom. She wore black heels, which emphasized her willowy legs. Her mahogany-brown locks flowed in waves below her shoulders. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, were a bright, rapture-blue. A straight dainty nose, full pouting lips, high cheekbones, almost-glowing alabaster skin - she seemed to be the picture of perfection.

Her companion, on the other hand, appeared perfectly plain and average. He had neatly parted blonde hair that was almost unnaturally straight and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with silver. His face was hard and blunt, with with a large forehead that shadowed his glinting black eyes. He was tall, but thin, making him appear almost emaciated. He was dressed in a black suit and highly polished black shoes, making him look like a sophisticated businessman.

Harry only spared the man a glance to study him before turning his attention back to the man's alluring companion. He blushed a little when he met her gaze, and she must have noticed because her pouting lips turned upwards in a small smirk, her blue eyes clearly showing a hint of amusem*nt.

Harry saw the smirk, as well as Dudley's momentary incapacitation, and mentally composed himself. He stepped past his cousin's large frame to greet the two guests.

"Good evening, my lady, Sir," said Harry confidently, giving the two guests a slight bow. "Welcome to the Dursley Residence. Please step inside. My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are eagerly awaiting you."

With that, he moved a step back and nudged Dudley out of the way. It took a sharp elbow to his gut before the youngest Dursley regained his senses. He blushed heavily in embarrassment, before remembering his role for the evening. But when he opened his mouth to speak, no sound came out.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes at his tongue-tied cousin and gestured for the latest clients of Grunnings Drills to enter the house. The older gentleman entered first with his younger female companion following. As she passed by Harry, the woman gifted him with a coy smile and a wink. The young Potter did his best to rein in his reactionary blush, barely succeeding. He bashfully grinned back, unconsciously running his fingers through his wild hair.

As soon as they entered the sitting room, his uncle and aunt almost pounced on their two guests. Uncle Vernon strode over to greet the older fellow, with Aunt Petunia hurrying after her husband.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Sir," said the adult Dursley with a strained smile, shaking the other man's hand with his own much larger one. The man did not say anything, simply nodded his head politely in acknowledgement. Undeterred, Vernon ploughed on.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of my small family," he said. "This is my wife Petunia, and this is my only son, Dudley."

The man traipsed over to Petunia, and taking her hand in his own, he placed a kiss on her knuckles, eliciting a blush from her. "A pléisiúir," he murmured with a slight Irish lilt. He also spared a cordial acknowledge to the younger Dursley as he returned to stand by his younger associate.

"Thank you for the invitation, Vernon, Petunia. I'm not sure if your husband has mentioned me, but I'm Amery England, Head of Operations Division for Abstergo Industries' England branch," the older man, Amery, introduced himself to the Dursley family. His Irish lilt had all but disappeared.

"And this young lady is my only daughter, Laetitia," he added with a brief glance at his child.

'His daughter? Really? They look nothing alike!' thought Harry, a little shocked. 'I guess she inherited her stunning good looks from her mother.'

"Hello," said Laetitia demurely with a graceful curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

'So that's her name. . . Laetitia. . . Well, it's certainly unique,' thought Harry. Unbidden, another thought unconsciously made itself known from the deepest recesses of his mind. 'Merlin, she even has a beautiful voice!'

"Well, please, do sit down, Mr. England, Miss Laetitia," insisted Petunia as she gestured towards the sofa.

As the two guests walked over to the sofa, Harry looked around and noticed Aunt Petunia glaring at him. When he raised a brow questioningly, she gestured with her eyes to the kitchen. After a moment, he realized what the woman was hinting at and so he walked from his position at the entrance towards the father and daughter pair.

"Would you like something to drink?" he inquired.

"A glass of water will suffice, thank you," she replied politely.

Harry nodded before asking, "And what can I get for you, Sir?"

"Nothing," came the soft answer.

"Surely you'd like something, Mr. England," insisted Uncle Vernon as his nephew marched towards the kitchen. "Maybe something from my private stash?"

"Alcohol impairs the mind, Vernon," explained Amery. Vernon could not come up with any reply for that, so he simply nodded.

'Alcohol is for people who can afford to lose a few brain cells, Uncle Vernon,' thought Harry sarcastically to himself.

Harry returned a few moments later carrying a glass of water on a tray. He held it in front of Laetitia, who accepted it with a smile. She took a few sips before handing it back to him. He was returning to the kitchen with the tray, when he heard Laetitia speak.

"Who is he?" she inquired inquisitively.

Uncle Vernon looked as if someone had stomped on his balls, but he dutifully answered her. "He's our nephew, Harry Potter," he said, suppressing his distaste at having his 'freak' nephew present and also at having to introduce him.

"Oh," whispered the young woman, before probing, "And he lives here with you?"

"Yes, he has been living with us ever since his parents died in a car crash." This time it was Petunia who answered.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," Laetitia murmured contritely. "I apologize for bringing it up."

Petunia's face looked as if she was sucking on a particularly sour sherbet lemon, but she still nodded in acceptance of the apology, even though said apology was not directed entirely towards her.

"Enough of this sad topic. Let us talk about something else," said Vernon, attempting to change the discussion from 'freaks' to something else, anything else.

"Miss Laetitia, we know your father works for Abstergo, but what do you do? Are you in college or do you have a job?" asked Vernon.

"I've recently started working at Abstergo as an Intern for the summer. I finished my secondary education this year, and I'm hoping to get into Cambridge," answered Laetitia.

"My, you are quite ambitious," said Petunia appreciatively.

"Well, I'm hoping to follow in my father's footsteps," she replied with a shy smile.

"Yes, she is quite sharp, this lass," said Amery with some pride. "I'm hoping that she will take over the family business."

"Are you referring to your position at Abstergo, Mr. England?" queried Vernon, a glint of greed entering his eyes.

"No, I'm working at Abstergo as a favour to a family friend. No, our family business is actually Logistics. We are involved in freight transport by land as well as by sea, mainly in the civilian sector, but sometimes we also extend our services to the military when requested. We are also hoping to expand into air freight in a few years," divulged Amery England, an arrogant smile visible on his face.

Petunia had a similar gleam in her eyes, but for a different reason. 'She is quite a bit older than my Dudley, but if we can make a match between the two, then my Dinky Duddydums will control their entire fortune! We'll be rich!'

Harry was listening to the entire conversation from the kitchen as he laid out Aunt Petunia's special silverware set for dinner. After he was done, he returned to the living room, where Aunt Petunia immediately noticed his entrance. When she looked at him with narrowed eyes, he gave a small nod. At his signal, Petunia turned to the conversation.

"Well, Mr. England, Miss Laetitia, why don't we head to the dining room? The dinner is ready to be served," said Petunia, plastering a smile on her face.

The man and his daughter nodded in acceptance and stood to follow Petunia as she lead them to the dining table. Vernon and Dudley, on the other hand, struggled to get out of their seats and barely managed to stand, following the others to the dining room.

Harry silently followed after them. He knew he was not going to join his 'loving' family and their guests at the table for dinner, that fact had been made abundantly clear to him by both his aunt and uncle at least a dozen times that very evening. No, his role for the evening was that of a server/butler, and if he did his job without causing any problems and accidents, the Dursleys would grudgingly feed him the leftovers.

'Well, I can at least hope that there will be any leftovers. Though with the way Vernon and Dudley gorge themselves at every meal, the probability of me getting any food tonight is very low,' Harry thought sarcastically to himself.

The wizard did not let that bother him though, because he had already eaten a hearty lunch, and after this was over, he could have a few snacks from his secret stash to fill his stomach. So without any further thought, he continued to perform in his role as a butler.

Vernon had already dumped himself in his usual seat at the head of the table, and he had indicated for Mr. England to seat himself at his right side. The table was large enough to comfortably seat half a dozen diners, but due to the large build of the Dursley males, they needed an entire side for themselves.

Dudley was torn between assisting his mother into her seat or assisting their gorgeous lady guest into her chair. The youngest Dursley was most probably leaning towards the latter, but in the end, he opted to help his mother as was planned earlier. She sat on Vernon's left and Dudley occupied the entire end of the table opposite Vernon.

So it was once again left to Harry to be the gentleman. Not that he had any objections. He could appreciate a beautiful girl when he saw one. Even Cho Chang, who was one of Hogwarts' most attractive witches, would pale in comparison to the perfection that was gracing this room right now.

Shoving these thoughts to the back of his mind, Harry strode forward. He pulled out Laetitia's chair for her (next to her father and on Dudley's right) and she elegantly sat down, flashing him a grateful smile as she did. This time, Harry did not react beyond a nod in return, as he hurried into the kitchen to bring in the dinner.

Over the course of an hour and a half, the Dursleys and their guests feasted upon the veritable banquet that was laid out on the table, with random conversation erupting every now and then. Vernon and Amery were engaged in a quiet discussion, most likely something business related. Dudley, it seemed, had regained his ability to coherently voice his thoughts in front of a beautiful woman, because was attempting to involve Laetitia in a debate about his latest favourite video games, but while she was politely nodding along at his words, it did not seem as if she was even mildly interested in what the large teenager was prattling about. Petunia did not participate much in any conversation, merely inquiring the other occupants of the table if they wanted anything whenever she spotted their almost-empty plates. She merely gratified herself with observing the interaction between her son and their guest's daughter.

Soon enough, it was time for pudding, and from the expression of delight visible on Laetitia's face, at least someone enjoyed the effort it took to make the summer pudding. Harry had to look away, because the young woman - when she was sure no one was paying any attention to her - was licking her dessert spoon. It might have been an innocent gesture, but for some reason, it was making him quite uncomfortable, especially when she stole glances at him in the process.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley quickly cleared off their portions. Amery and Laetitia seemed to enjoy eating their pudding in small bites, relishing each one. Petunia had only accepted a small portion, which she had no trouble finishing.

In short order, the final course was also cleared. The Dursleys led their guests back to the sitting room while Harry quickly cleared the table, placing the dishes in the sink. He would have to wash them later, but at least for now, he was free. Washing his hands, he headed to his bedroom to get some rest; after all, he had been standing for approximately two hours.

As he climbed the final stair, he almost collided with the person who had been on his mind for the better part of the evening. He halted abruptly to avoid the collision, but it seemed that the other person was somewhat distracted, because he felt her bump into him, nearly sending both of them tumbling down the stairs if not for his reflexive grip on the railing with one hand and the woman's upper arm with the other.

When he regained his balance, Harry released his grasp on her arm, keenly aware of the sudden rush of adrenaline. He was also keenly aware of Laetitia as she leaned against his muscled chest, trying to calm her racing heart from her near accident. He could feel her soft bosom pressed against his upper body.

'Wow. . . so soft!' came the unbidden thought.

A few seconds later, Laetitia realized their awkward position and moved away slightly, a light blush growing on her cheeks. That was perhaps the last emotion Harry thought he would witness on her face, other than her knowing smirks and shy smiles.

'She suddenly seems. . . vulnerable, not the confident and self-assured young woman she appeared to be earlier,' thought Harry as he noticed the slight nervousness in her body language.

"Er. . . Hello," she murmured, gracing him with a hesitant smile.

"Hello," muttered Harry in reply. There was an uncomfortable pause as both of them contemplated on what to say to the other without offending them. It was Laetitia who broke the stifling silence.

"You're Harry, am I right?" she queried, to which Harry nodded. "So. . . um. . . how are you, Harry?"

Harry raised a brow at the question, uncertain whether he should even be speaking with her right now, because he was damn sure that if his relatives found out about this, he would be getting a lot of grief from them.

"I'm fine," he said, unclear as to where this conversation was heading. When she merely nodded at his reply, Harry decided to ask. "Are you enjoying yourself, my lady? Did you enjoy the dinner?"

"Yes, the food was quite lovely, but I enjoyed the pudding the most. It was delectable!" she declared.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's nice to see that at least someone appreciates all the hard work," replied Harry with a smile.

"Oh?" murmured Laetitia with a visibly surprised look. "So you can cook?" When Harry nodded, a little devious grin appeared on her face. "So other than being tall, dark and handsome, you can cook as well? My, my. . . is there anything you can't do?" she almost purred, looking at him with hooded eyes.

Harry realized that the woman was trying to elicit a reaction out of him with her words, but he was not going to give her that satisfaction.

"Well, I can't swim," he replied with a lazy smirk snaking its way onto his face.

She gave him a deadpan stare at the answer. Harry held her stare for a few seconds before he began to chuckle. Eventually, she too cracked, losing her serious expression and snickering. When they had regained control of their laughter, the wizard spoke.

"Sorry 'bout that, but I couldn't resist," said Harry with a boyish grin, running his fingers through his hair.

Before they could continue their conversation, they were interrupted by the sound of incessant knocking from the main door. Before either of them could move down the stairs, Dudley appeared in the hallway, trudging towards the door. As his cousin unlatched the door chain and opened the door, he felt Laetitia delicately brush past him.

When he looked at her questioningly, she merely smiled before answering his unasked query, "I think it's time for us to leave. We have a flight to catch. Father is attending a meeting tomorrow at Abstergo Industries' Philadelphia facility."

Harry nodded at her answer. Before he could say anything, she continued.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Harry," said Laetitia with a shy grin, before adding, "I do hope that we'll meet again."

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss England," said Harry. He noticed that a slight frown appeared on her face when he referred to her formally, but the expression was so brief and fleeting that Harry assumed he must have imagined it.

"The next time we meet," she whispered, suddenly leaning close as she spoke in his ear, her breath causing him to shiver slightly, her audacious action eliciting a small blush from the young man, "I really hope that you will not address me as Miss England but as Laetitia."

The last word was whispered in such a seductive tone that Harry shuddered almost visibly, his emerald eyes widening in shock. When she leaned away, he noticed an impish smile playing on her enticing and utterly kissable lips.

He distantly heard the sound of Dudley shuffling back towards the living room, informing their guest that their transportation had arrived. But his concentration was entirely focussed on trying to prevent his mind from shutting down as the intoxicating scent of her perfume assaulted his senses. He somehow managed not to pass out ("Because a man never faints!" a voice whispered in the recesses of his jumbled mind) and when his mind processed her words, he automatically responded.

"As you wish, Miss England," he murmured. When he met her eyes, he noticed a slight glare and a frown but her eyes twinkled in amusem*nt, which somewhat assuaged him.

"Er. . . sorry," he said with an abashed grin, again unconsciously running his fingers through his hair. Her nose twitched rather cutely before she graced him with a playful smirk.

Any further conversation was hindered when voices drifted up from the hallway. Laetitia turned around to look down the stairs and Harry immediately realized that he would be in a lot of trouble if his relatives noticed him engaging in any manner of communication with their special guests. So without any furor, Harry noiselessly slunk up to his room before Laetitia even realized that he was gone and she was the lone occupant of the stairway.

The young woman frowned in slight disappointment when she noticed her companion had disappeared while she was distracted. But it was time to leave and Amery England would not tolerate any tardiness, even from his only daughter.

'Oh well,' she consoled herself, 'I just wanted some enjoyment, and he was an easy, tempting target. Anyhow, it's not like we are ever going to meet again, so I guess it's better this way.'

With that, Laetitia England nimbly descended the steps of Number Four Privet Drive to greet her father. She politely thanked her gracious hosts for the enjoyable dinner and pleasant company they provided for the evening. She delicately shook hands with their son, who she noticed was still unable to form any words in her presence, while her father shared a few quiet words with the large man while his wife merely lingered quietly in the background.

She traipsed to the car where the chauffeur held the door open for her. On the other side, her father's bodyguard was doing the same for him. The door was gently closed, and their vehicle slowly accelerated.

As Laetitia glanced out of the glass towards the house they had just left, she noticed light streaming out of a window on the first floor. Shadows flickered about on the pane of the window before it was thrown open. She observed somebody standing at the window, their frame illuminated by the soft yellow light, the distance making it impossible to discern any notable features, but the young England heiress did not even require a guess to figure out who the person was. She noticed a large shape swooping out from the window, but she was confused as to what it was. But that confusion was cleared when she noticed a large snow white owl swooping past her window before it disappeared from her field of vision.

"Good bye, Harry Potter," she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched the beautiful Snowy Owl vanishing into the night sky.

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

July 9, 1994

When Harry looked up from the book he was reading to check the time, he saw that it was 10 past midnight. With a sigh, he gently closed the book and placed it on his desk before getting to his feet. He stretched lazily while heading for the door. Opening it, he proceeded down the stairs towards the kitchen, intent on getting some water for his parched throat. As he reached the hallway, he could hear loud sounds from the living room, indicating that at least one of the Dursleys was still awake.

Peeking from behind a wall, he saw that it was Dudley and Vernon, sprawled on the couch and watching a movie on the TV. Harry assumed that it was an adult movie because he could see quite a few women sans their clothing engaged in foreplay.

'At least they are not masturbating,' Harry thought to himself, before closing his eyes and shivering in disgust at the horrible thought. 'Oh Merlin. . . '

Not wanting to even imagine such things, the wizard hurried into the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass, he quickly gulped it down, intent on getting back to bed before either of the two male Dursleys could noticed him.

But it seemed that fate had other plans, because he heard someone knocking on the door. Somewhat confused as to who could be arriving at this time of the night, Harry remained in the kitchen, hidden in the shadows. He heard Vernon and Dudley from the living room.

"Dad, I think the pizza has arrived," came Dudley's voice.

"Go get it then, Dudley," muttered Vernon, distracted by the caressing, fondling and kissing nude women on the screen.

"How do I pay him?" inquired Dudley, equally distracted.

"My wallet is on the shelf," he grunted, his bushy moustache quivering in excitement as he continued to gaze at the TV.

"Okay, Dad," muttered Dudley, but made no move to get up. A few seconds passed before another series of knocks were heard, these a little more exigent.

"I'll pause the movie, son, now go get the pizza before your mother wakes up because of the noise," he sighed, reaching for the remote.

Harry was impressed. The two large Dursleys were capable of speaking coherently in spite of their current preoccupation. He had always assumed that neither of them had enough brain cells for multitasking. It was somewhat surprising to know that their IQ and shoe sizes were not the same.

He backed up a bit as Dudley waddled out into the hallway with Uncle Vernon's wallet in his hands, rummaging through it for the sufficient money which with to may for the late night delivery. When the door was opened though, all was silent.

Harry immediately sensed that something was wrong. He sneaked towards the entrance of the kitchen, moving stealthily before halting just at the corner. He peeked from the shadows and noticed that Dudley was standing stock-still. The reason for his cousin's current paralysis was quite obvious. Standing in front of the Smeltings student was a tall individual wearing a paint-ball mask with dark lenses, dressed in an all black outfit consisting of a grey T-shirt covered up by a black ballistic vest and combat trousers.

'Non-magical,' thought Harry, before correcting himself, 'Or at least Muggle-born. No Pure-blood would even imagine touching those clothes.'

The unknown individual was pointing at his cousin what Harry assumed was some kind of weapon. It was matte black, similar in shape and size to a pistol.

'But not an actual firearm,' concluded Harry mentally as he saw that there was no circular muzzle but rather a bulging square.

The large teenager was stupefied, his eyes widening in bewilderment at his current situation. Before he could react though, two dart-like objects were ejected from the weapon held in the hands of the armoured being, hitting his cousin squarely in the torso. One of them buried itself in his thorax while the other burrowed itself in one fold of the multiple folds of his meaty abdomen.

Immediately, Dudley went rigid like a board and dropped to the floor on his back with a heavy thump. Harry was eerily reminded of his first year when Hermione had used Petrificus Totalus, the Full Body-Bind Curse, on Neville before they had gone through the trapdoor to face the 'Man With Two Faces'. Though the two situations had some similarities, they were also very disparate. While Neville had been paralysed at the time, he had not suffered from any physical pain; well, other than the pain caused by falling flat on his face. But in Dudley's case, he was only stiff for a second. A second later, the teenager was moaning and convulsing on the floor, his dolor apparent, his pudgy little fingers twitching randomly and his limbs jerking as if he was suffering from an epileptic seizure.

Before Harry could do anything to aid his debilitated cousin, he hear the sounds of muffled footsteps approaching him from behind. Instinctively, he ducked and rolled to the side. That proved to be the prudent action, because embedded in the wall he was concealing himself behind just a microsecond ago, he could see two dart-like objects with wires attached to them, similar to the ones currently incapacitating his cousin.

But in dodging and protecting himself from the assailant who had been trying to sneak up on him from behind, the young Novice had exposed himself to the individual who had immobilized his whale of a cousin.

The attacker did not immediately shoot the odd weapon at Harry, but that was probably because he had spent his ammunition when he attacked Dudley. Realizing that the weapon could be only fired once before it became inutile, Harry decided to press his current advantage, because both of his attackers had evidently discharged their weapons, rendering them inoperative.

But the wizard realized his mistake when he noticed that the attackers had other weapons on their persons, when the first assailant unholstered a cylindrical shaft. He swung it sharply, using inertia to extend and lock the segments by friction of what appeared to be a expandable baton made of steel.

Uneasiness could not even begin to describe what Harry felt at that moment when he realized that it was he was at a disadvantage, not his attackers. He slowly moved back into the living room, trying to keep his two attackers within his field of vision. When he did not hear Vernon's voice in the living room or the sounds of the p*rn movie, his uneasiness increased even more. He had never, in his admittedly short life, even entertained the thought that he would one day be worried about his uncle's or cousin's safety, but that was the case right now, because he could not hear Uncle Vernon as he entered into the living room. He sincerely hoped that there was not a third intruder, because two of them were more than enough at the moment.

The second attacker from the kitchen made an appearance as he slowly walked into the hallway. He was of average height, dressed in a manner similar to his comrade, in ballistic vest and combat trousers, with his face hidden behind a paint-ball mask. He too unclipped a tubular handle similar to his associate's from his belt, but he calmly opened it up to its full length, slowly pulling the segments apart with repeated clicking as the pieces locked into place, making no vain show of strength as his crony had.

While some would consider the first attacker to be the dangerous one due to his aggressive show of force, Harry subconsciously realized that the second invader was the more formidable foe of the two. Without any warning, the first aggressor charged forward with a low growl while raising his weapon, intent on striking Harry with the baton.

But to the young Assassin, it was as if everything had suddenly slowed down, his opponent appearing to be moving towards him at a drastically slow speed. Adrenaline began pumping twice as hard as he realized that all of his training had not really prepared him for this scenario. Yes, he had seen countless battles from the perspective of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore, but his only taste of fighting had been against the Basilisk in his second year, and even that had not been much of a fight, as he had been blindly swinging a millennium-old sword at the King of Serpents, hoping to score a lucky hit on the magical beast. And while he had trained hard regularly since the first day of the summer holidays, the Novice realized even that would not be of much help, as he truly did not learn how to fight. He had merely been conditioning his body and endeavouring to increase his strength and stamina, not training to actually fight against other humans.

Regardless of all that, he was still an Assassin, albeit still a Novice, but he had the blood of two of the greatest Assassin Mentors streaming through his veins, their formidable knowledge ingrained into his mind, their skills deep-rooted in his anima.

Intuitively, he shifted into a loose, defensive stance and turned slightly sideways, presenting a smaller profile, ready to counter his opponent's attacks. After all, even if Novices were not permitted to use the iconic weapon of the Assassins, the Hidden Blade, or any other bladed weapons, they still had some rudimentary skill in fist-fighting and free-running.

As the armoured attacker swung his steel baton towards the young wizard's cranium, the tall man was surprised when his puny opponent leaned away from his powerful blow, causing him to miss. Due to the speed of the swing, the man faltered when he did not encounter the expected resistance of his baton meeting soft human tissue. Before he could comprehend the unexpected feint, his young adversary had already reached to his side with unanticipated speed and kicked him in the thigh, causing him to lose balance and collapse onto his knee. Before he could get his bearings or turn around for another assault on his young opponent, he was powerfully shoved head first into the steel cabinet lining the wall.

While his first opponent was dazed from the counter-attack, Harry carefully regarded his more dangerous foe. He was calmly leaning against the doorway with his baton lazily resting on his shoulder. As the Novice had expected, this second adversary was much more clever compared to his brash comrade, patiently waiting and sizing up his opponent. Harry knew that since he was unarmed, making the first move was tantamount to suicide.

Both the Assassin and his rival sized up each other, mentally trying to determine the other's weak points. When he noticed that the other man was making no move, Harry slowly backed up towards the still dazed enemy, intent on disabling him before he could recover from his impromptu date with the cabinet.

Seeing the other man make no move to assist his companion, Harry grabbed his opponent by the back of his ballistic vest. Pulling him upright, the wizard used a technique he had seen Ezio perform on countless opponents. He unstrapped the man's helmet roughly and flung it aside, not even taking a glance at his captive's face and keeping his eyes riveted on the other opponent calmly standing in the doorway. He trapped the man in a stranglehold, internally questioning why the man was even injured when he was wearing a helmet. His unasked question was answered when suddenly he felt the hands of his larger, stronger and definitely not dazed opponent gripping his forearms with almost bruising strength.

Before he could back away from his opponent, the man had established a strong grip on the collar of Harry's shirt with one hand and the wizard already knew what was about to happen before he was harshly and ruthlessly tossed over the man's shoulder and onto the wooden floor.

Now it was Harry's turn to be dazed from the brutal shoulder throw and subsequent introduction to the hard floor. As he recovered, he heard whispered conversations taking place between the two intruders. When he looked up, he noticed that the taller one had once again recovered and donned his paint-ball mask from where it had been tossed.

"I'll admit that he's swift," rumbled the taller one, adjusting his helmet's straps.

The shorter one did not verbalize his reply, merely nodding his agreement to the statement. Harry noticed that the shorter one was fumbling with the gun-like weapon, before it was grabbed from his hand by his taller companion.

As he struggled to sit up, he almost did not notice the nearly-silent footsteps coming from the end of the living room. Turning his gaze towards the source of the sound, he noticed another person walking towards him. His eyes focused on the figure and the first thing he noticed was tight jeans wrapped around long willowy legs. As his gaze carried upwards, he noticed that this person was wearing a tactical vest over a long-sleeved T-shirt, but it had a noticeable bulge in the chest region. The figure was definitely female, the recovering wizard decided. The female assailant was also wearing a paint-ball helmet, although her helmet was a little different compared to the ones preferred by her companion, as her helmet only covered her face, her long hair not enclosed by the helmet and tied up in a high ponytail.

The two men quieted when their female companion approached their position. Harry did not attempt to regain his footing as his back was hurting terribly, simply preferring to lean heavily against the cabinet. The cool steel of the cabinet was somewhat soothing to his throbbing vertebral column.

The trio of intruders left him there, conversing between themselves in hushed tones. Harry closed his eyes and decided to practice his eavesdropping skills. He could only make out snippets of the conversation taking place, a few words such as "Abstergo", "Grunnings", "archaeology project" and "Middle-East" being the more prominent ones to him.

But when he heard a hushed whisper of ". . . Templar. . . ", he was immediately alert, his eyes snapping open and glaring at the three enemies as soon as he overheard that loathed name. They must have noticed his ire, because the female sauntered towards him.

Harry directed his eyes to the belt of the woman slowly making her way towards him. He could not see any holster for the gun-like weapon which shot the dart-like projectiles or any holster for the expandable baton carried by her two abettors. However, she did have a leather sheathed combat knife strapped to her thigh. It also appeared to be her only weapon, at least from what the humbled Novice could make out. As she approached, Harry tensed himself, although to anyone who looked at him he still appeared slumped on the floor while glaring at his enemies.

When the woman was only a few feet away, Harry exploded into action. As his legs were still extended, he immediately used them to kick her just above the ankle joint. As soon as his well-timed kick connected, the woman stumbled and Harry did not stop. He encircled her wrists and yanked her down, making her fall right besides him. He immediately straddled her back and grasped her right arm in a shoulder lock by digging into the muscles of her upper arm with his right hand and bending her wrist with his left, all the while keeping the woman's arm trapped straight against his chest. When he applied a little more pressure on her shoulder joint, he heard a soft whimper of pain.

But that was all the last Potter could do before he was once again neutralized. Harry hissed when a sharp stabbing pain erupted from his back, and a second later, his body protested violently as it was exposed to 1000 volts of electricity.

He collapsed to his side as he tried to curl up but could not, feeling as if the muscles in his body had cramped all at once, and he could not even move slightly. He did not know how long it was, but after some time he felt the pain reduce. He gulped in air, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The pain he had felt was nothing to the blinding pain he felt due to his scar, but this pain felt more physical than the ones caused by the scar on his forehead.

Harry rolled onto his back, trying to gather himself. When he opened his eyes, he saw himself surrounded, the three invaders looming over him. The woman had recovered from his impetuous attack and was now standing in front of him with her two goons flanking her. Her fingers moved to unlatch her helmet, and when she removed him, Harry dully stared at her in stunned silence as he took in her familiar features.

"Hello, Harry," she hummed with a dainty smile as he continued to look at her in mute shock.

Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter... (It's almost 15K words! My longest one so far!)

We have seen what Abstergo is up to. I've shown Harry's initial physical and mental training, and how despite his training and the memories of his ancestors, he was still soundly defeated by the attackers. And who are these people in black who attacked him? Find out in Chapter 6 of Eryr!

Until next time, folks, be safe and be happy!

(Version 2.0)

Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Into The Unknown

Chapter Text

Author's notes:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft.

Dedicated to the fanfiction authors who are not with us anymore, they will be missed.

-_- Eryr -_-

Chapter 6

Into The Unknown

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

July 9, 1994

Hannah Mueller adjusted the helmet in her arms as she stood in front of the downed man while he gazed at her face in shocked recognition.

"Hannah?" muttered Harry incredulously as he stared at the waitress he had met just the day before - and who was currently one of the three assailants who had attacked him. Oh, and also attacked his family.

The woman continued to watch him warily as he struggled to get into a sitting position, wincing when pain erupted from between his shoulder blades, his nerves still tingling from the electrical shock he had suffered just a few minutes earlier. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself and recover. He could also feel his magic reacting to his emotional turmoil and the wizard did his best to tame the tempest that was his magic, as he was well aware of the consequences of unconstrained magic. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to process what had just happened.

Closing his eyes, he could hear Hannah's two accomplices moving about, no doubt trying to secure and restrain Vernon and Dudley before the two Dursleys could regain their senses.

When Hannah noticed that the teenager in front of her had closed his eyes and was trying to regain his wits, she motioned for her two team-mates to begin their work. They had a mission to finish, and then get away from this place as fast as they possibly could. She did not know why, but something about this house felt very wrong to her.

Hearing the sound of exhalation, she came out of her momentarily distracting thoughts and once again concentrated on the young man sitting on the floor before her. His messy black hair was more tousled than ever and his pyjama bottoms were disheveled, a result of their earlier scuffle. She slowly walked around to get a better look at her detainee and determine his condition. When she did see his back, she winced in sympathy. Due to the large tear in his shirt, she could see a sizable bruise already beginning to appear on the teenager's well-muscled back, no doubt due to being harshly slammed to the floor by her larger colleague. Even though the big guy was a quiet and solemn person most of the time, he was very aggressive and brutal in combat, and quite prone to using excessive force when attacking, evidenced by his treatment of the young man in front of her.

She could also see the two barbed probes from their taser still clinging to the skin of his back where they had pierced him right between the shoulder blades. Though her team-mates had cut the conducting wires attaching the probes to the taser, they had decided it was not safe to approach Harry and remove the prongs still embedded in his back, even though he appeared incapacitated; they had made the mistake once, when they had assumed him to be out-of-action after he had been smashed into the floor, only for him to unexpectedly attack and subdue her when she had approached him. It was only due to the swift actions on part of her partners that she did not currently sport a dislocated shoulder, which was most likely what would have happened if the big guy had been a few seconds too late in targeting the young man with his taser.

Still, she was impressed by Harry's ability to tolerate such pain. She knew first-hand how ruthless her taller team member could be even in regular melee training, and he could become very dangerous if he was not stopped in time. She silently admired the teen in front of her for being able to even move properly, let alone attack her consciously, after being tossed so violently. She wondered what his pain threshold must be, because he had not whimpered when he had been thrown onto his back, and even after being tased, he had only made a few gasps.

Hannah was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned her gaze away from the almost-motionless teenager in front of her to watch her two team-mates walk up to her to report the outcome of their rummage. After all, she was the leader of this mission.

When they came to a stop in front of her, she merely raised a brow in askance. The two shared a brief glance before the shorter man decided to answer her.

"Well, the wife was already asleep, so I merely made sure that she won't be waking up for at least six hours," he stated, his voice muffled as he fumbled with the chin-strap of his helmet, trying to remove it. Finally succeeding in his endeavour, he breathed in the fresh oxygen that his stifling helmet unfortunately blocked.

His light brown hair was short and his angular face was clean shaven, with a slightly crooked nose which appeared to have been broken at least once. Standing at around five foot five inches, he was of average height and an athletic frame. He had green eyes which were sharp and alert, serious at the moment, but a playful glint could normally be seen in them. His name was Michael "Mike" Prader.

Hannah swept her eyes over her other team-mate, who was in the process of deftly removing his own head gear. Around six feet tall and dusky, with well-defined muscles and sturdy body, this individual would not look out of place in an underground fighting tournament. His long ebony hair was held away from his face by a head-band, which covered a scar running diagonally across his temple. Generous stubble was visible on his broad face. He possessed deep-set brown eyes under a thick brow and a wide nose. Hints of an intricate tribal tattoo - possibly Polynesian in origin - could be visible on his left arm where it was not covered by his T-shirt. The name of this man was Mandip Dhami, but he usually preferred to answer to his nickname "Manny".

Manny cleared his throat before speaking, his voice surprisingly soft yet strong.

"I couldn't find anything in the rooms. The main bedroom's obviously used by the husband and wife, but nothing important was there in any of the drawers, though I did uncover a secret compartment in the husband's closet. It had quite a diverse collection of p*rn movies," he said, sharing a conspiratorial grin with his male accomplice.

"Yes, yes, he's a big lecher, now continue," she demanded, while rolling her eyes at her team-mates' perverted nature.

"Er. . . yes, well, the second largest bedroom belongs to the junior whale. Probably the worst-smelling room in the house, and that's including the toilet," he said, grimacing as he recalled his experience. "Didn't find anything but empty boxes of sweets squashed under the mattress and a lot of useless stuff."

"The next room appears to be a spare bedroom for guests," said Mike, before adding, "Looks like it hasn't been used for a while though."

"Last one is the smallest bedroom and is probably used by this guy," Manny added, frowning as he nodded towards the young man on the ground with his head bowed.

"Are you sure we should leave him unrestrained?" Mike interrupted as he too glanced at their only conscious hostage. 'Not for long, I think,' he pondered absent-mindedly.

"You going to approach him, Mikey? Because I certainly won't be," replied Hannah.

"Er. . . let's continue," Mike hastily replied before he could be coerced into approaching the unpredictable teenager by Hannah.

"Why would anyone have a cat-flap installed on a bedroom door?" queried Manny, brows furrowed in confusion. "Especially when they don't own a cat?"

"No idea, mate," muttered Mike with a frown of his own.

"Well, anyway, I found a bird cage, a lot of broken toys and old books. All the furniture also appears damaged in some way," Manny continued with his report, "There was a loose floorboard under the bed, and found quite a lot of snacks and other less-perishable food items. A trunk filled with weird books, calligraphy stuff like quills, strange type of paper and wizard costumes."

"Wizard costumes?" inquired Hannah with a grin.

"You know, cloaks, pointed hats, robes, that kinda stuff," muttered Manny with a small shrug.

"Maybe he's one of those Wiccan cultists?" mumbled his partner with a grin, but quieted when Hannah glared at him.

"There's nothing in the living room or the kitchen," Mike finished with a wry smile.

"Well, our people scouted the place for a whole week, and we even spotted one of their high-ranking members here for God's sake, so we should find at least something here!" exclaimed Hannah, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. She palmed her face, trying to calm herself down and proceed logically. This was her first mission as a leader and she did not wish to screw it up by making irrational judgements.

"Okay, first tell me, what is the status of the two...?" she inquired.

"Dursley," Manny murmured helpfully.

"Right, so what of the two Dursleys?" questioned Hannah.

"Well, Manny over here got Junior pretty good with the taser. The wimp fainted in shock right away," answered Mike with an amused grin. "And you got Senior with a dart to the neck. He'll be out for at least five hours. And a lot of pain too when he wakes up."

His grin widened as he added in a conspirational whisper, "You kicked him in the nads, didn't you?"

Manny's eyes widened at his friend's statement and he turned to gaze at Hannah with surprised wide eyes, before he began laughing in amusem*nt at the actions of his female companion.

Hannah only glowered at the two men with narrowed eyes, grumbling under her breath about "perverts" and "He deserved it!"

"What about that one?" asked Manny after he stopped laughing, nodding towards the young man still on the floor.

"Keep an eye on him, but don't approach him. We don't know if he will try to attack again or not, and I don't want to take any chances," muttered Hannah while rolling her shoulders; she could still feel the slight pain from the earlier incident. And she was sure that she would not be able to run properly for a few days due to the bloody kick to her leg.

When the two men nodded, she continued, "Take Senior and Junior to their respective rooms. Senior has no idea what happened and will not be a problem. Junior, on the other hand, did see and feel the attack. However, once Boss gets here, he can give all of them his special co*cktail so they won't be remembering much, if anything at all."

Again the two men merely nodded. Everyone was silent for a few seconds before they started to move, heading to finish their given tasks. Mike had one last question to ask though.

"When will Boss get here?" he queried as he moved to assist the big guy in moving the two beached whales to their rooms.

Hannah moved towards their motionless quarry, glancing at the digital watch strapped to her wrist before answering her team-mate's question.

"He'll be here shortly," was her brief answer.

Mike must have noticed her tense as she approached the inert youth, because he remained silent and proceeded to help his friend haul the two overweight individuals up the stairs.

Hannah stood at a safe distance from Harry with a hand on the knife attached to her thigh, keeping an eye on him while constantly looking out of the living room window towards the main road, waiting for the arrival of her superior.

She was startled when a voice suddenly broke the silence of the room.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, his voice hoarse as he moved ever so slightly to lean against the nearest wall. He looking up at the young woman through his disheveled hair, his emerald eyes somewhat unfocused.

Hannah glanced at him but did not bother answering the question. Once more, the room was silent.

"Are you with the Templars?" questioned Harry, this time the steel in his voice quite obvious.

The young woman jerked slightly as if shocked, then rounded on the wizard with such a sharp glare that Harry almost shuddered from the venom in her blue eyes. He opened his mouth, but before he could even make a noise, he was interrupted.

"Shut the f*ck up! If you make any f*cking sound, I'll kill you!" hissed Hannah through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowed in anger. She pursed her lips, uncannily reminiscent of Professor Minerva McGonagall when she was angry. She scowled before turning away to look at the door when they heard the sound of a car pulling back into the driveway.

Harry - though he might have seemed to be very disoriented - had been eavesdropping on the conversation between the three invaders and had heard enough to know that the 'Boss' of his current 'house-guests' would be arriving soon, and the car entering the driveway probably belonged to that mysterious 'Boss'. He heard the clunk of the car door being shut and his muddled mind imagined the phantom footsteps on the path as the unknown person made their way towards the front door.

Harry kept his head bowed as the front door was opened with a creak as it swung on its hinges before it was closed with a soft thud. He kept his eyes rooted on the floor, having no wish to gaze upon the latest intruder. But his ears were still active, picking up the muttered conversation taking place between Hannah and the latest 'house-guest'.

The sounds of conversation petered out and a few moments later, black loafers appeared in his field of vision. Harry slowly lifted his gaze to look at the stranger, his sharp eyes taking in the appearance this 'Boss'.

'Boss' wore black trousers and a plain white shirt, over which he wore a grey Donegal tweed jacket. Probably in his late 40s, the man was tall, standing around five foot ten inches and appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. Olive-skinned, with dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, short black hair and a trimmed beard, the man could pass for a scholar.

When his eyes met with the young Novice, his lips twisted into a phlegmatic smile. For a moment, it seemed as if the brown eyes were glowing golden with an inner light, but it disappeared immediately, making Harry wonder if he merely imagined it. The man leaned forwards, as if to get a better look at the teenager.

Harry was about to react but before he could even twitch a muscle, both of his arms were grabbed by the two thugs. Mike and Manny hauled him to his feet, the larger man gripping his arm with almost bruising strength. 'Boss' grabbed the neophyte magus' face with his long-fingered hand, turning his head from side to side, as if he were inspecting a particularly interesting specimen for deformities. Harry struggled to get out of their hold, though his efforts were completely futile.

'Boss' did not notice this, and even if he did, he simply ignored it. With his other hand, the middle-aged man moved the hair that was blocking his view of the boy's face. He noticed the lightning bolt scar on the boy's forehead; it was not an accidental injury but appeared to be deliberately inflicted, perhaps carved into the skin with a sharp object. Brown eyes again seemed to flash golden for a few seconds before resuming their normal colour and thin lips curved into a smirk.

"Well, well, well," he drawled in a deep, distant voice, moving a few steps away from the boy to stand next to Hannah, "Isn't this interesting. . . "

Hannah glanced at her superior with a confused expression, as did her two comrades. Their 'Boss' did not satiate their curiosity but instead he turned and whispered something to Hannah. Harry could not hear what was being whispered, but when he noticed Hannah's eyes widening slightly and her furtive glances, he realized it probably did not bode well for him.

The man handed Hannah something and shot him one last fleeting look before he marched out of the room. The creaking of the stairs indicated that he was moving to the second storey of the house, most likely to administer his "special co*cktail" to the three Dursleys.

Harry was distracted enough by the sudden departure of the older man that he almost did not notice when Hannah approached him. In one hand she held a plastic syringe filled with a clear liquid while with her other hand she tapped the syringe to make sure the air bubbles floated to the top. She pushed the plunger to get rid of the air bubble and a little amount of the liquid was also squirted out of the tip of the needle, after which she noted the exact volume of the liquid remaining inside the syringe.

'Bloody hell, I'm f*cked! That liquid certainly ain't water! I guess I'm being given a taste of the special co*cktail as well. . . ' realized Harry with panic, his eyes firmly rooted on the woman approaching him with the syringe-full of unknown liquid, chest heavy with sudden apprehension.

When he discerned what his fate was going to be, the wizard began to struggle against the vice-grip of the two thugs, but his efforts only earned him a sharp elbow to his gut, enough the make him wheeze due to the force of the sudden blow.

"Stop struggling, resistance is futile," murmured Mike as he and his friend tightened their hold on the slippery ruffian. At his words, Hannah shot him a glare before once again concentrating on her current victim.

While Manny and Mike held him in place, she rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt to expose his muscled upper arm. She gripped his forearm and with a finger, she checked for the median cubital vein in his cubital fossa, colloquially known as the elbow pit. Immediately finding it, she gestured to Mike to hand her the alcohol-soaked cotton, absently noticing that the pulse of her victim/patient was sky-rocketing. Swabbing the area to disinfect it, she put the tip of the syringe near its designated entry point. Taking a deep breath, she pierced the skin and slowly but steadily pushed the plunger until every ounce of liquid inside the cylindrical tube was pumped into Harry. She removed the needle and with another piece of alcohol-soaked cotton, she once again swabbed the area before quickly backpedaling, wishing to stay out of reach of the volatile young man.

Compared to the pain he was experiencing from the current state of his back, as well as from almost his entire body, the syringe-needle piercing his skin felt like a minor itch. After about a minute, when he felt the two goons releasing him from their clutches, Harry was puzzled and a little optimistic. Perhaps they were confident that whatever the "special co*cktail" they had injected into his body would paralyze him, but since it was tailored for incapacitating Muggles, it would not properly work on him due to his magic.

All his hopes were dashed only a few seconds later. As he tried to move forwards, he staggered and fell to his knees, trying to keep himself upright. His vision, which had been recently restored to its full potential, became blurred. He tried to look around the room, trying to focus on the three intruders in the room, but for some reason, it seemed as if the whole room had started spinning rapidly around him. His perception of time and space was altered. His reflexes slowed as signals from his brain were delayed. The pain which he had been feeling almost disappeared except for a dull throbbing at the back of his skull. He collapsed onto the floor as he tried to breathe in deep gasps of air, but he could feel his breathing slow.

"Whaaa. . . deed. . . yahoo. . . taamee. . . " he slurred, his tongue feeling as if a thick and slimy slug was trying to crawl down his throat, the muscle beyond the control of his own body.

Harry would have begun hyperventilating had he not lost consciousness as he rolled sluggishly on the floor. Laying on his back, he became very still, almost corpse-like, except for rise and fall of his chest as he took strenuous gulps of air.

The three conscious occupants of the room observed the unconscious denizen for a few minutes. Hannah moved forwards to make sure that he was actually out cold and not faking it; she felt his pulse and noted that it was even. When she confirmed that he was out like a light, she directed her attention to Mike and Manny.

"How much did you give him?" asked Mike, finally breaking the silence. Hannah was quiet for a moment before she responded.

"The entire ampoule," she muttered as she shared a glance with her teammates.

"Damn! And it still took a minute and a half to knock him out completely!" exclaimed Manny in an astonished tone, looking at the fallen teen with something akin to admiration in his eyes. Mike grudgingly nodded in agreement to his partner's words.

"It shouldn't have taken a minute and a half to knock him out," said Hannah with a frown, "I was already giving him a higher-than-necessary dosage compared to his body weight. It should've knocked him out in 10 seconds, maximum 30 seconds, but no more."

"Maybe he has a resistance to such 'co*cktails'?" suggested Manny, "I know a few people who do."

"Yes, and they must have already been familiar with the 'co*cktail' and have it administered to them dozens of times," argued Hannah, still trying to work things out logically.

"I agree with Hannah, mate," stated Mike. A scowl was firmly affixed on his face as he continued, "This one's a tyro to the 'co*cktail', so how did he almost resist it? Something's fishy here. . . "

"Maybe he has an innate resistance to the drug," proposed Manny, trying to be the voice of reason.

Before any of the two could begin a counter-argument, they were cut short by the reappearance of their 'Boss'. The man glanced at his subordinates before focusing on the unconscious youth.

"I want you two to go upstairs and pack up his things. Make sure you remove all traces of his presence here," said the older gentleman to the two younger ones, before turning his attention towards the girl. "Is he...?"

"Yes, Boss, he's completely under," replied Hannah.

"Excellent. While the boys finish their work, help me get this one to the car," the man ordered his subordinate. He gripped the unconscious teenager under his arms while the young woman grabbed his legs.

"f*ck, he's heavy!" grumbled Hannah as she lifted the young man as they carried him towards the parked car.

"Indeed," replied her Boss as he supported the younger man with one hand while the other reached behind his back to open the back door of the car.

With a grunt, Hannah roughly tossed Harry into the backseat of the car and closed the door. Her Boss looked at her with a glimpse of amusem*nt in his dark eyes at her rough treatment of their 'prisoner'.

"So what did he do to make you so angry at him, my dear?" queried the man with a smirk.

Hannah just blushed lightly and did not meet his gaze, instead looking around the neighbourhood to see if anyone was watching them and their questionable activities.

When she did not reply, the man's smirk simply widened as he moved towards the driver's side door, getting ready to leave this dull place as soon as his other two subordinates returned from their assigned tasks. After all, he now had a very intriguing person lying unconscious in the backseat of his car who he had to interrogate when he woke up.

They waited in silence for a few minutes before the front door of Number Four opened as Mike and Manny trudged out, carrying out a large and heavy cabin trunk, on which was a precariously balanced iron bird cage. They immediately headed for the black delivery van with that had "Shephard's" on the side, Hannah hurrying forwards to open the rear doors. They quickly loaded the trunk and bird cage into the vehicle and Mike clambered into the driver's seat to start the vehicle.

"You two make your way towards the hideout. Take the longer route, just in case you need to throw off anyone following you, alright? I'll ride with Boss," Hannah shared a meaningful glance with Manny as she added, "Get a room ready for him, will you?"

Manny nodded seriously before climbing into the passenger seat and they drove off, the car soon disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Well, let's get going, my dear. I have some important things I need to discuss with our guest.I know someone else might also be interested in what I can find out," said the older man, looking over his shoulder to Hannah who was walking over to her Boss's modified silver Volkswagen Golf.

"Boss, not to be rude or anything, but what the the f*ck do you want with him?!" Hannah almost yelled at her superior as she got into the vehicle. The man did not give any indication that he had heard her as he calmly put on his seat belt and adjusted his side view mirror. Hannah noticed this and almost growled in anger at his nonchalant attitude but reigned in her temper to preferably get an answer.

"You'll find out soon enough, Hannah," her Boss assured as he started the vehicle, "Soon enough."

Without another word, the car pulled out of the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive and swiftly drove away from the suburban streets of Little Whinging. What they did not notice was a pair of amber eyes following them as they disappeared, nor did they notice the white blur that chased their car from above.

Darkness.

Wherever he looked, in whichever direction he tried to focus, no matter how far his gaze could travel, there was only darkness. Nothing but all-encompassing darkness.

And silence. . . debilitating silence. . . endless silence. . .

Then all of a sudden, he began hearing a multitude of whispers, many voices trying to speak at once, screaming, shouting, chanting, crying, laughing. . .

Finally, all the different voices were muted, and there was suddenly there was once again an oppressive silence. The silence and the darkness were despotic, as if trying to smother him with nothingness. And then Harry heard a voice.

"Who are you?" the voice asked. It was clearly feminine, but it seemed almost robotic, mechanical. The voice seemed to echo, as if the person was speaking to him over a long distance.

Then in the darkness, a pinprick of light appeared, steadily glowing brighter with each passing second. When the light became too bright, Harry closed his eyes, shielding it from the sudden illumination with his hands.

When he opened his eyes, Harry almost died of shock when he unexpectedly found himself face to face with the Sun. In front of him, floating serenely in the black vastness of space was a gigantic spherical ball of hot plasma. All around him, there was the black darkness of space, interspaced by twinkling stars and gleaming planets. Harry noticed different planets, massive asteroids, beautiful comets with visible coma and long graceful tails, as well as a multitude of celestial bodies. It was as if he had suddenly materialized in space. Occasionally, swimming in the space around him, innumerable numbers, runes, glyphs, calculations, formulae, words and icons, flickered and materialized from time to time, most of them not making any sense. It was pure chaos.

"You are not Desmond. Who are you?' came the voice, this time from directly behind him. Harry swiftly turned around and found himself looking at the source of the voice. She was clearly a female, about his height, wearing a flowing white robe, with a strange domed helmet adorning her head. He would say she was had a graceful beauty about her, but it was her eyes, a glowing golden colour, which made him more wary of her. Her face had an ageless quality to it, making it difficult to predict her age, but those golden eyes. . . they showed an uncanny intelligence, but underlying everything was a soul-deep sadness. Those eyes did not match the rest of her expressionless face, as they were too expressive of her innermost feelings.

"Who are you?" the woman asked again.

Harry wanted to speak, but whenever he tried, no words came out nor could be make any noise. It was as if he was under a Silencing Charm which had rendered him completely and utterly mute.

"Who are you? . . . Who are you? . . . Who are you? . . . "

The words seem to echo in this endless darkness. This time, when he tried to speak, no words came out, but at least he was able to make some noise. He tried his best to speak and finally managed to say, "Hello. . . "

"Who are you?"

"You know, it's not polite to ask someone who they are without introducing yourself first," he said, finally irritated with the unknown woman for asking the same question over and over again.

The woman's eyes flashed with annoyance before she replied, "I have been called by many names, stranger. Some called me Mera, others Merva. You may refer to me as Minerva." She paused for a moment before she continued. "Now I ask again, stranger. Who are you?"

"I'm Harry Potter," replied Harry, before asking a question of his own. "Where am I?"

The woman looked at him in shock when he asked that question, though for the life of him he could not fathom why she was surprised.

"You do not know what this place is?" she asked, clearly dismayed.

"No. . . should I?" queried Harry, now internally a little worried.

But it seemed that Minerva had not heard him, because she was muttering to herself. "How is this possible? No one can come here, not unless one of us summons them! And none of the others summoned this stranger!"

Deciding that he needed answers, and that too as quickly as possible, Harry cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the ramblings of Minerva. "I'm asking again, where am I?" he questioned, this time a bit more forcefully.

Minerva's face became expressionless as she heard the question again. She waited for a while before she answered, "You are in the place which we refer to as the Nexus. It is a disruption in time; from here, probabilities are calculated so that the proper path may be chosen."

Harry was about to ask another question when suddenly a memory emerged from the depths of his mind.

"Many names. When I died, it was Minerva. Before that Merva, and Mera. And on and on. The others, too: Juno, who was before called Uni; Jupiter, who was before called Tinia."

"You are. . . gods."

"No. Not gods. We simply came. . . before. Even when we walked the world, your kind struggled to understand our existence. We were more. . . advanced in time. Your minds were not yet ready. Still not, maybe never. No matter. You may not comprehend us. But you will comprehend our warning. You must."

"When we were still flesh, and our homes still whole, your kind betrayed us. We who made you. We who gave you life! We were strong. But you were many. And both of us craved war.

So busy were we with earthly concerns, we failed to notice the heavens. And by the time we did. . . the world burned and naught remained but ash. It should have ended then and there. But we built you in our own image. We built you to survive. And so you did."

"Few were our numbers. Your kind and mine. It took sacrifice. Strength. Compassion. But we rebuilt. And as life returned to the world. . . We endeavored to ensure this tragedy would not be repeated. But now we are dying. And time will work against us. Truth turned into myth and legend. What we built, misunderstood. Let my words preserve the message and make a record of our loss. But let my words also bring hope."

"You must find the other temples. Built by those who knew to turn away from war. They worked to protect us - to save us from the fire. If you can find them. . . If their work can be saved. . . so too might this world."

"Be quick, for time grows short. And guard against the Cross, for there are many who will stand in your way. It is done. The message is delivered. We are gone from this world. All of us. We can do no more. The rest is up to you. . . "

Suddenly, Harry knew who the woman standing in front of him was. "Ah, so you're one of those who came... before?"

At this words, Minerva froze. After a moment she spoke. "So it seems we have a descendant of Ezio Auditore amongst us. . . "

Harry simply looked at her, not replying.

"You are an anomaly, Harry Potter," she said after a lengthy pause. "You are a variable. You are not included in my calculations, you never were, which I'm beginning to realize was a mistake on my part. I do not understand how I could have missed such a critical component. . . "

"What are you talking about?" hissed Harry in annoyance.

"Do you believe in Divination, Harry Potter?" Minerva asked out of the blue. "Do you believe that numbers have the power to predict the future? Divination through numbers. There is a pattern to existence. To comprehend the calculations is to tame time."

"Divination?" asked Harry, as if trying to comprehend why someone from such an advanced civilization would believe in such an ambiguous form of magic.

"Yes, Harry Potter, Divination," she said with confidence. "I created a device which allowed me to determine the pattern of existence. So we took measures to make sure that the most beneficial probability would come to pass, so that our mistakes would not be repeated once more. You weren't included in my calculations because you shouldn't even exist, and yet here you are in front of me. It seems that you are a variable, an anomaly, a glitch."

Harry wanted to reply immediately, to say that Divination was nothing but a crock of sh*t, the people who made such predictions nothing but charlatans, and the people who believed such things to be utterly gullible and laughably dumb. But before he could say anything at all, he noticed that the scenery around him was flickering, as if it were an image on a television. Minerva must have noticed as well because she too was looking at her surroundings with a slight frown marring her features.

"Well," started Minerva, "it seems that our meeting has come to an end. It's time for you to go back. . . "

"Wait. . . " was all Harry could exclaim before everything around him started to blur and merge together into random splotches of colours that did nothing but make him disoriented and dizzy.

"We will meet again, Harry Potter, but it is you who will have to find me. Good luck, Harry Po. . . "

That was the last thing Harry heard before he was once again embraced by the blissful silence of darkness.

Unknown Location

July 9, 1994

Harry opened his eyes to see a white glass-like screen in front of his face. Before he could try to read whatever was written on the screen, it moved away from his face and withdrew into the dome-like structure above his head. When his eyes adjusted to the bright white light of the room, he noticed that he was a small room with a lot of mechanical gadgets filling it. He himself was seated in a comfortable recliner-like chair, but that was where the similarities ended. The chair he was sitting on was heavily modified, a lot of external wiring emerging from the sides of the chair. There was small pedestal with a monitor on top of it placed on one side of the chair, to which most of the wires emerging from the chair were connected.

And that was when he noticed the catheter emerging from the tip of his left index finger which was connected to the chair. He also noticed a wire emerging from under the light blue shirt which seemed to be connected to his chest right over his heart. He slowly blinked a few times as he looked around the room he was in, and saw an empty chair directly opposite his own seat. He tried to get up from the recliner, but for some reason his actions felt very sluggish to him. He also had a very persistent headache, but it wasn't bad enough to be debilitating.

'Where the bloody hell am I? What the f*cking hell did I get myself into this time?!' was all he could think of as he tried to move.

He struggled for what felt like the better part of an hour to get out of the chair, but in actuality it was only fifteen minutes. However, that struggle was enough to tire him out and as he collapsed back into the chair, he realized that the reason for his current predicament was most probably the 'special co*cktail' his kidnappers had used on him, and probably on his relatives as well.

'Did I really meet Minerva just now? Did I really meet one of Those Who Came Before?' thought Harry as he breathed in deeply, trying to calm his mind, 'Or was I merely hallucinating because of the drug?'

A small creak was heard as the door to the room opened and in came the same older fellow who his kidnappers referred to as 'Boss'. He was closely followed by a woman wearing a labcoat.

"His brain activity was very unusual. I was detecting both beta waves as well as delta waves, which is quite unusual," the voice belonged to the female.

"And why is it unusual, if I may ask?" drawled the man. He removed his tweed jacket as he entered the room, placing it on the back of the chair as he began to fold back his sleeves.

"Beta waves indicates that the brain is highly involved, active, engaged in some kind of difficult mental activity," the woman answered, a slight irritation apparent in her voice, "Delta waves, on the other hand, are observed when a person is in a deep sleep."

"Alright, so what's the problem?" the man asked.

"The problem," the lady sounded angry at the blasé attitude of her male accomplice, "is that you only see one type of brain activity at a time. And generally, when a subject is in the Animus, we observe only beta waves, because while the body is resting, the mind of the subject is highly active. Delta waves have never been observed when a subject is using the Animus."

There was a pause in the discussion as the man seated himself in the only unoccupied chair in the room while the woman leaned against the wall, glancing at the papers in her hand.

"Why did you place him in the Animus when he was unconscious anyway? That's just a waste of electricity, you know that right?" muttered the woman.

"Let's just call it a hunch," replied the man with a smirk.

"We don't do things on a hunch, Omar," hissed the woman in annoyance, glaring at the person seated in the chair. Said individual was oblivious to his companion's ire and if he did notice, he was completely nonchalant about it.

"Anyway, he's all yours. Have Hannah call me if any further help is required," said the woman as he clicked her pen.

"Of course, Janice dear," was the reply.

"And tell Mike to put a limit on his intake of Indian food," ordered 'Janice' as she was leaving the room, "I know it tastes good, but it's not worth it if he has to sit on the loo for the next forty-eight hours."

She shut the door behind her, leaving Harry and 'Omar' in the room.

Harry was completely still as he stared at the man, wondering who he actually was and what these people wanted with him.

"Who are you?" croaked Harry, his voice cracking due to his parched throat. The man seemed oblivious to his words, as he merely settled himself comfortably in the chair and continued to gaze at the screen on the pedestal.

"What do you want?" rasped Harry. It seemed that the odd man finally heard him, because he turned to looked at the weakened wizard.

"Names have power, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you are quite aware of that," he said in a low voice, his brown eyes boring into the emerald eyes of the younger man in front of him. "But since you asked so nicely, I think I'll oblige you."

"People know me as Omar Al-Sayf," he stated proudly. On hearing the man's last name, Harry was surprised. The name Al-Sayf was the family name of a notable family of Assassins from Masyaf, the ancient fortress of the Brotherhood of Assassins, and one of the notable member of that particular family was Malik Al-Sayf, a close colleague, valued advisor and good friend to Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

The man noticed the expression on Harry's face, but he simply smiled nonchalantly and continued.

"Manny, can you get please get Mr. Potter a glass of water?" asked Omar out loud. "I'm sure he has some questions of his own. And he'll want to hear what I have to say to him. I'm sure he won't be attacking any of us or attempting to run away."

The two occupants of the room continued to observe each other in silence while the order was being carried out. A minute later, the door opened and Manny entered the room with a plastic tray which he held in front of Harry, a glass of water and a tablet sitting innocently on it. Harry just glanced at the tray before once again focusing on Omar with a raised eyebrow.

"It's for your headache," supplied Manny helpfully when his superior remained silent.

Harry was not inclined to believe him, but the headache was starting to get worse by the minute and he was seeing a strange white mist all around the room. Some ghostly figures were also slowly becoming visible and he was beginning to feel a dull aching pain behind his eyes. So he decided to trust his kidnappers for the moment; he took the glass of water with shaking hands, causing some of it to spill onto him, but he ignored that as he popped the small brown tablet into his mouth and gulped down the entire glass in seconds.

Manny helpfully took the empty glass from the young wizard's shaking hands and walked out of the room. When he opened the door, Harry sneaked a glance and could not see anything in the outer corridor except for 'Animus Room' written on the doorplate of the room he was currently in.

Once again, everything was silent. Omar busied himself with observing the monitor, occasionally touching something on the screen. Harry immediately thought of trying to make a break for it, but in the end, after some quick evaluation, he realized that with the current condition of his body, he would not even make it out of the door before he was once again apprehended. That was him being generously optimistic. And with him being held in a completely unknown places, his chances of getting out were reduced even more. Besides, he wanted to know what this man wanted to speak to him about. This man could be his possible link to the Assassin Brotherhood in the modern world, that is if it still existed and he was not just connecting the wrong dots.

The younger man gazed at the older man with piercing green eyes, while the other continued observing his quarry with shrewd brown eyes. Harry closed his eyes for a second before opening them. Brilliant emerald eyes with flecks of gold now observed their latest target, trying to determine whether the person in front of them was a friend or a foe. The individual in front of him appeared to glow with an ethereal bluish-golden light, a colour which was very unusual for the Novice Assassin. Blue was an ally and Gold indicated a target or object of interest. For this man to appear bluish-gold perchance meant that he was a potential ally who was also a source of information.

"I see that you have awakened the Sixth Sense," stated the middle-aged man, leaning forward in his seat.

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'He knows a lot of things, it seems. Things he shouldn't know about.'

"Now, now, no need to get angry. After all, I'm here to help you, Mr. Potter," drawled Omar, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, how did you receive your new skills?" asked Omar.

Harry remained silent as he deliberated whether or not to reveal any information about himself. If this was to be an exchange of knowledge, then he would have to answer some questions to get some answers in return. But he knew that he could not ever reveal the fact that he was a wizard to anyone, because even if it wasn't for the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, he knew that revealing such that fact would be tantamount to freely handing out invitations for being experimented upon. And if these people were really Templars in disguise, he was absolutely screwed as it was.

His Eagle Vision, though a budding talent, was a skill that had been perfected by his ancestors and he was reasonably confident that if the man sitting opposite him was not red, then he was not an enemy, for now. So he decided to reveal at least what little information he could without giving away the fact that he had the ability to perform magic.

"I had a little accident at school last June, and that was when I activated my. . . ability," answered Harry with a shrug. It was the truth, after all.

Omar was silent as he processed the very vague information he received. He knew the kid was hiding something, something important, but right now, forcing him to reveal that information would be really counter-productive to his goal. He knew how to be subtle when extracting vital information, and if this soft interrogation failed, there were always other alternatives.

"May I ask a question of my own?" queried Harry. Omar nodded and gestured for him to proceed.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I attached to this thing?" asked the young wizard.

"I believe I already answered that; I'm Omar Al-Rahim Al-Sayf, a professor of religious iconology and symbology at Cambridge," the professor replied with a smile. "As for where we currently are? I'm afraid that will remain a secret for now; you know, for security reasons. As for why you are attached to this 'thing', as you call it, it was to save you, or more specifically, save your mind. You were suffering from intense mental strain, and we had to strap you here so that you could recover from it without falling into a comatose state."

Harry grew a little worried that he had almost fallen into a coma, but then realized something. "Hey, the reason for me almost falling into a coma was because of you!" he ground out.

At that, Omar grimaced. "Yes, there were some unexpected side-effects as the drug wore off. I do apologize for that little mishap," said the man, seemingly apologetic.

Harry scowled slightly at that. "Are you Assassins?"

Omar's smile widened at the question. "Ah, finally, you ask the right question, Mr. Potter!" he exclaimed.

"But it's my turn to ask a question now, so I will answer yours after you answer mine," the man said before sighing. "What do you know?"

Harry contemplated for a moment. 'Can I trust him? Them? Can I reveal what I know? Should I reveal what I know? They saved my life, even if they were responsible for it being in danger in the first place. I guess I have to take this risk if I wish to find out about the Assassins.'

"Well, your question is quite broad, so I'm not sure how I should answer. . . " trailed off the Potter heir.

"Very well, I'll be a little more specific. My first question is this: You seem to know about Templars. Tell me what you know of them," said Omar as he leaned forward.

"Templars," Harry almost spat, "Bloody co*ckroaches! Always want to dominate and create the perfect world. f*cking morons don't realize that as long as there are humans in the world, it's never going to be perfect, because humans are never going to be perfect! They don't realize that by controlling the free will and freedom of individuals, they are crippling the growth of the individual as well as the society as a whole. If they control the minds of each and every human being, how will new ideas emerge? How will fascinating discoveries be made? Effing blockheads!"

As Harry ended his rant, his breathing had become erratic and ragged, so he closed his eyes and tried to pacify his raging mind. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that Omar was watching him with wide eyes and a wry smile.

"That. . . was not what I was expecting," muttered Omar as he shook his head, "Though it is quite accurate. And quite passionate too, I must admit."

"What I really want to know," continued the professor, "is how much you're aware of the Templars and their activities in modern times."

"Not much, I'm afraid," replied Harry with a shrug.

"Would you like to know?" asked Omar. Harry nodded, but before the older man could speak, he interrupted.

"While I'd really like to know what nefarious deeds the Templars are up to, you haven't answered my earlier question," said the wizard with a frown marring his face, "Are you Assassins?"

Omar massaged his forehead as if trying to curb an oncoming headache but he looked at the young man opposite him as he finally answered, "Yes. . . "

"And why did you kidnap me? What do you want with me?" questioned Harry, his voice hard. "And how do you know I'm against Templars anyway?"

"The same way you know I'm not your enemy, Mr. Potter," replied Omar, his eyes flashing golden before returning to their normal brown, so swiftly that Harry thought that he had imagined it. "You are not the only one who has awakened the gift of our ancestors, Mr. Potter. Do you know what we call it?"

"Eagle vision. . . " both Harry and Omar said at the same time.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, you are correct," continued Omar, "It is the use of every sense of your body at once. And as you train the ability over years, you can listen to a person's heartbeat if you concentrate hard enough, you can pick up trails of humans and animals, you can tail an enemy or locate a disguised one. . . the possibilities are endless, one just has to keep on exploring it."

"Yes, it's almost like. . . " murmured Harry, "magic. . . "

At that, Omar began to laugh, and it was quite some time before he could stop himself. Finally, he brought his amusem*nt under controlled as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

"I know you are a wizard, Harry Potter," said Omar with a smile.

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

July 9, 1994

When Petunia Dursley woke up early the next day, she immediately put on her dressing gown and freshened herself up in the attached bathroom. When she returned to her bedroom, she noticed that her husband was still fast asleep. Deciding to not disturb him until completely necessary, she left the room, closing the door noiselessly as she slipped into the corridor.

She passed her darling Dinky Duddydums' room and noticed that the door was slightly opened. She peered through the gap and noticed that her beloved son was sprawled on his bed, unaware of the world around him. Giving a fond smile towards her sleeping son, she closed the door fully and continued her trek.

Next she came to the room which housed the one person whom she despised in the world, her freak sister's son, the Potter brat. She knocked loudly on the door with multiple padlocks, knowing that while her husband and son were very heavy sleepers, her nephew on the other hand was the opposite, waking up at the slightest noise. After all, that was one of the main reasons why he was put in the cupboard under the stairs. After about ten knocks, when she did not hear his answer, she frowned and went to open the door, but noticed that it was already open.

When she entered the smallest bedroom of her house, the first thing she noticed was that the bed was empty and appeared to be undisturbed. The next thing she noticed was that the large wooden trunk which her nephew used to carry all his 'freak' stuff was missing, along with the cast-iron cage which housed the ruddy owl. All of this pointed to one thing, the freak had left in the middle of the night, without asking or informing her.

Not that Petunia was very much concerned with the absence of the boy. While he did come in handy during the summers for various household tasks such as weeding the garden, watering her precious roses, cleaning the house, cooking the food, and a multitude of other tasks, the fact that he was gone would definitely make Vernon, Dudley as well as herself infinitely happier.

With that thought in mind, the female Dursley closed the door to the bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen to prepare a special breakfast for her beloved family. With the way the events of last night had culminated, her Vernon making a successful business deal and her darling Dudley charming the beautiful rich daughter of an influential businessman, both of them deserved something special, so she would ignore the diet plan just for today and shower her family with the love and affection they deserved.

And so the sudden disappearance of Harry Potter would not be reported and no one would search for the teenage wizard. At least not until the end of the eight month.

Well, hello...

Not much I can say... except that a lot has happened in this update. Loved it? Disappointed? I do hope that everyone enjoyed the chapter.

After a year and half, you see the next part of what many have told me to be the "biggest f*cking cliffhanger". We find out what happens to Harry after the end of the last chapter. I've introduced a few new characters. Some of them will play a role in the long run, while some of them might just end up as random characters I've created to play around with. I'll just say that if you're familiar with AC lore, you might recognise or relate some of the new characters.

I appreciate all the reviews and PMs, and as always, I'm grateful to all the loyal readers for being so patient with me. I just hope that you're as patient till the next chapter. Hehehe...

Until next time, my friends, be safe and be happy!

(Version 1.0)

Eryr - HarryPotterFanFicArchive_Archivist - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

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Chapter 2: Chapter 1 - The Bleeding Effect

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Chapter 3: Chapter 2 - The Truth

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Chapter 4: Chapter 3 - The Black Liberation

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Chapter 5: Chapter 4 - End Of The Year Of The Dog

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Chapter 6: Chapter 5 - A Dinner & A Duel

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Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Into The Unknown

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