The School was a miserable place to look at from the outside, even without knowing the secrets that laid within.

Large, unending brick walls raced up with only a single barred window near the ground. Thick clutches of ivy and grass swarmed near the base, but the walls were completely clear. The roof with thick sheeted metal, perfectly squared.

A small plaque was above the only visible door, with four letters branded deep in iron.

ITEX.

It was large, unpleasing, hard to get rid of; there had never been anything that so closely matched a wart.

But it was exactly what Albus Dumbledore needed.

The white bearded old man stood directly in front, wearing blinding robes of bright blue and dark burnt orange. The thick swathes of cloth ruffled with a shiver as he stepped forward and drew a thin brown stick from his pocket.

With a single wave, a small burst of violet sparks shot toward the window. The bars on either side snapped to attention, and slammed shut over the tiny stretch of glass. Dumbledore let a small smile flicker across his face that was much different from his kindly one.

He waved his wand in a distinct swish and flick, and a tiny basket rose in front of him, made of lovingly sewn together willow branches.

It was beautiful, handmade, and artfully done. A thick blue blanket covered everything inside it. A small rumble came every few seconds.

Dumbledore kept the basket as far away from him as possible, keeping his wand stretched outward. He started walking forward, his boots clicking on the stone.

Click click. Click click. Click click.

He stopped directly in front of the iron door, and with a small flourish from years of showing off, canceled the spell.

The basket fell with a crunch on dead leaves, and a startled cry echoed off the walls. An angry wail followed it, and it continued on and long without need for breath. Dumbledore let out his famous disappointed rumbling sigh. The cries fell silent, and a tiny fist appeared out of the basket, a thick wool blanket falling slightly off. It waved in the air, swaying like in a breeze.

Suddenly a strong wind whipped around the clearing, making Dumbledore's robes whip around him. The fist waved faster, and the winds picked up.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. "A Wind Elemental?" He whispered in awe and fear.

A happy gurgle sounded from the basket, and the wind receded. Dumbledore felt a raw emotion curl in his chest.

Not fear. Anger.

For this infant, this child, it to be an Elemental, was impossible. For the elements could only be gained through awesome raw magic, and only mastered by one with tremendous passion and understanding.

But they could be stopped.

Dumbledore stood tall over the basket, his wand pointed directly toward the infant's forehead. Blazing green eyes looked curiously up at him, shining with the childish innocence he wanted, needed to stop.

One could not die a mayter with a real spirit.

He waved his wand over and over again in the infinity symbol, his deep voice repeating the long forgotten chants in Celtic.

The strange words echoed off the walls, filled with the power of the Old and of new, the very air dripping with magic. At first, nothing happened. A pull in Dumbledore's core changed that. His wand started to glow with real, true magick.

It was an odd thing, real magick. Blessed by Lady Hecate herself, with the power of a thousand suns. But there was always ways to abuse that power.

A thin silver rope slowly snaked from his wand, waving and shimmering in the air.

The baby giggled and stretched his hands up, batting at the silver. His eyes were glowing with a brilliant curiosity.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. He chanted louder, with more force. The silver rope straightened and shot toward the infant with precision.

It swirled out of its clenching hand, snaking around its neck.

The baby cried out, but this time in pain. The silver tightened, drawing a tiny speck of blood. The child's cries were cut off, its face turning blue as it struggled to draw in breath.

Dumbledore let his chanting die off, slowly changing to silence.

The silver stopped glowing, settling around its neck. The infant sucked in a thin breath, and started wailing with fear and anger the second it had air.

But while it's tiny fists waved, its head thrashed and its body writhed, not a single breath of air emerged. But its wailing roused the very dead.

Dumbledore growled softly. His head darted up. His wand pointed at the strong iron door the idiot muggles thought would protect them.

"Reducto!" He cried out, letting his anger flow into the spell. Brilliant red sparks flared out, almost buzzing.

The resulting boom shook the earth.

The screams stuttered off. He smiled.

There was a gaping hole in the side of the building, wide and dark. A single curse had done this, one taught to those in fifth year. Dumbledore's lip curled.

He jerked his wand up and then down, and a piece of parchment and quill popped its way into existence. He drew in a quick breath.

Conjuring was almost impossible, but he must do it.

Slowly and carefully, he used his hard earned perfect calligraphy and wrote a list of instructions to 'whomever finds this child'.

He all but threw it down on the basket, letting it land just out of the child's reach. The infant in question made a questioning noise, its nose scrunching up in confusion. It reached a hand out for the paper, and didn't reach. He looked up at Dumbledore with hopeful eyes, before looking back at the paper. Dumbledore snapped the quill in between his fingers, letting the discarded broken pieces fall into the grass. The child looked back to him at the noise, eyes still bright.

His face turned down into a sneer.

"Good night, Harry Potter."

And with a spin and deafening crack, Albus Dumbledore was gone.


The world was silent when the first scientist came to start early on his newest project.

He quickly waited for the chain link fence gate to completely open, and quickly powered through, barely missing the closing bang. He gunned it down the dirt path, splattering mud from the last rain over the back.

The weather would not be stopping him today. Not with what had happened.

They had found an orphanage that had had to foreclose from loss of money, and, having pretending to be another helpful child's home, had gained 16 kids of varying ages.

16! This was almost impossible. Itex had been working off abandoned children, well-paid-for babies, and a small amount from actual kidnapping. Never had they gotten over 5 in one fell swoop!

There were only around 15 scientists dedicated to actual injections and care of subjects, while most others tested and hunted restlessly for more subjects.

The car slowed and pulled behind the trees, the black blending in with the branches. He pulled it to a stop, carefully putting it close to the brush.

But now, every single scientist could have a brand new subject for testing and injections. And while they were already born and some were almost 17, they were new. Age was something they hadn't been able to test in true form; now they could.

Markus Brilen pulled the door shut of his blank black vehicle, and quickly snatched up his briefcase from the backseat. Inside were request papers for DNA. All of them stamped in approval, for him to use as he liked on his subject. He had gotten a nine year old subject, female.

His eyes flared with excitement. He had been charged with discovering anomalies with more than one DNA injected into subjects, within reason.

A human with both the claws of a wolf and the gills of a shark would be unstoppable, unbeatable by force or skill.

They could swim under the navy, and then claw holes in the hulls of the ships, before escaping...

This could be a new breakthrough in animalian human science!

He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

A hole was blasted right where the front door had been. Torn strips of iron and bricks were spread all across the clearing, ripped right from the walls. A gaping hole.

Right into the most secret building in the known world.

He kept a firm grip on his briefcase as he walked closer to survey. At a deeper glance, it was much better than it could have been.

Only the door and a few feet on either side had been blasted. The second floor wasn't touched, and the explosive did not touch the lower floors for subjects. In fact, it had gotten the barest minimum of the building, only hitting the door.

His mind raced through all the possibilities. There were several hackers that had once known about Itex, but they had been dealt with. Had they missed one?

He started quickly toward the empty space, intent on checking for stolen items. His mind flared with worry at the thought of missing work, notes, DNA...

Only to almost trip over an object in his path.

As soon as he had recovered, he shot around and stared at the now giggling object.

A child. A tiny, baby child. With brilliant green eyes and curly black hair. Couldn't be much more than a year old.

Markus Brilen, in the moment, smiled.

Never seeing the white parchment until it was too late.