Chapter 1.

[This is going to be pre-mortal instruments. Years before Valentine and the Uprising, and focus around an entirely new OC. This guy is sort of the opposite of anyone we've seen to be a shadowhunter in the series, but I figure every group has an outsider at some point. Just coz you're born to do something doesn't mean you pick it up right away. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, this is my first ever fan fic, so please review and let me know what you would like to see. :) thanks!]

He could feel the air rush over his neck as he ducked a blow from his opponent. He dove over the boys outstretched leg, narrowly avoiding a strong kick. He landed safely, his surprise causing him to freeze for a moment in shock. He realised his mistake when he awoke blinking heavily only moments later.

Michael Youngblood, an average sixteen year old, too average for his liking, slowly got up. His dark hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He lasted seven minutes this week, which he knows is his personal best. However, he is already prepared for the onslaught the other students are surely preparing.

"..like he's a mundane or something. Honestly, it's pathetic really..."

He hears someone mutter, realising it has already begun, they just haven't found the best insult yet. Before, near the start of the year, he would have been angry or scared of their ruthless put downs, his emotions getting the better of him but now he tries not to care. He quickly shoved past the crowd of onlookers to get outside for a breath of fresh air.

He greets the night with a small sigh of relief, and unceremoniously falls onto the floor for a moments rest. Inside he can hear the next duo has begun their sparring match eagerly. As any other student in the Academy would, except him. That is the problem, he thought sadly, looking up at the stars, the demon wards seeming to magnify the light shining from them.

Lost in his own thoughts, he nearly missed a student he had rarely seen in class striding confidently up to the doors. He smiled as he noted Michael and his ungracious position. This sparked his interest as no student really smiled at him so calmly before, the others usually having some malicious intent. Before he could ask the student his name or even form a word the doors opened and three students appeared before him.

Oh dear Angels no..Michael thought numbly, seeing their faces. these three students were the main cause of his silent suffering throughout this year.

Previously, Michael had been home schooled by his father, who trained him as well as he could in languages, shadowhunter marks, horse riding, history and fighting skill. The last topic was a sore point with his father, as he realised his son was not improving regardless of how many hours he tried. Rather than admit defeat (and embarrassment) he decided to send Michael to the academy for training until he was eighteen. The year of his ascension into the ranks of shadowhunters. His first day was a nightmare worse than any demon...

[FLASHBACK]

"Hello, I'm Michael, Michael Youngblood." He held out his hand to another student, who it seemed fair to say was slightly taller and muscular than Michael. He noted when the student raised an eyebrow at his outstretched hand, that the student was also an arrogant son of a- 'Still, any friends would help in these early days' he thought fairly.

"Youngblood? Never heard of them." The other student said with amusement audible in his voice. "Are they even an Idris family?" He said out loud to the other two students sitting nearby, who laughed louder than Michael felt the comment warranted.

"Well..." He answered, "actually yes, we're from the south. My grandfather was in the battle of-" He was cut off by the student's loud 'tssk'.

"Your Grandfather's probably dead. What've you done?" He asked, leaving Michael confused and offended.

"Nothing of course, I'm a student, just like you..." His words trailed off as he saw the boy in front of him contort his face into one of fury.

"Are you saying MY family is the same blood as yours?" He yelled, causing Michael to jump back a step. Realising too late that he had fallen into a trap he tried to answer calmly.

"I didn't mean to offend, I don't even know your name!"

A moment of silence followed in which the boy, and of course the other two students, like they were his left and right arm, stood up quickly. He looked down his nose at Michael and gave that annoying 'tssk' sound again.

"Jackson FyreBorn. Remember that name." The cliché of the phrase making Michael hold back a smile until they left. After that introduction, things only got worse.

"What do you want Jackson?" Michael tried to keep the tension out of his voice but as ever, failed to do so. Jackson smiled at him in the predatory way he was used to. Michael silently prayed as they made no move towards him.

"We saw your fight before, and we were wondering... Do you think your a bastard?"

Michel looked up in anger and surprise, insulting his mother and his birth now? They continued to sink lower for their laughs.

"What are you talking about? Leave me alone." In his head his words were dismissive and authoritative, when spoken they sounded whinging and weak.

Jackson took a step closer. The glee on his face was clear, he could barely contain it. The sense of foreboding in the back of Michael's head increased like a witchlight.

"I just thought it might be a reason you know? You being half a mundie explains everything. You think your mum ever played away?"

Michael held his fights tight and counted down from ten quietly. He just wanted to be left alone but they wouldn't even give him loneliness, they had to take anything they could.

"At least you can try again next week. I'm sure you'll do much better..."

Michael froze, dreading the next words.

"You're fighting me next week."

With a laugh they left, all going inside to cheer the other fighters. Leaving Michael to flop back onto the grass in defeat, the crook of his arm over his eyes. He heard footsteps by his ear and started, sitting upright in surprise. To his relief it was not Jackson and the others, but the unfamiliar student from before. At least Michael guessed he was a student, he was wearing the same black gear with a white crest that all students of the Academy wore, his light brown hair seeming to catch the sun in its messy nest. The boys dark brown eyes seemed to smoulder angrily though the boys shoulders seemed relaxed.

"Kill the guy."

The short answer led to a much longer silence. Which Michael had to break.

"I'm sorry?"

"In the fight, absolutely destroy him, why let him carry on?"

Michael smiled in spite of himself, this guy seemed to have the right intentions but didn't realise the situation.

"It's complicated.. see-"

"It isn't complicated at all, he insults you, you stand up for yourself, he stops, you enjoy your life..."

The boy looked pointedly at Michael as if to say 'honestly, what's your excuse?' which aggravated him to the point that he opened his mouth.

"I'd bloody love to but like I said it's not that simple, for the Angel's sake do you think I like this? I mean who the hell are you anyway that you're giving me advice? I have no idea who you are!"

"I'm Julius Asperitas... the second. A bit of a mouth full so I ask people to call me 'Israfil', as good a nickname as any, doesn't remind me of my father either. It's the name of an angel never called upon in battle." His smile took the sting out of the arrogant comment and encouraged Michael to smile back. "I'm in my last year they just let me do my own thing now, said there's nothing much for me to learn from lessons so I don't usually have the chance to socialise."

Michaels memory was distracting him however, "Israfil... are you the student that went missing for two or three days and wandered back covered in demon blood?"

"Ah yes... two years ago, fond memories" Julius' eyes were smiling as he confessed to the story, glinting mischievously. He offered Michael a hand up, which he accepted and Julius turned to walk, Michael following instinctively. After a moments pause, "and your name is?"

"Oh I'm sorry, my names Michael Youngblood. It's my first year."

Julius nodded as if he suspected as much, and thought for a moment on how to phrase his next words.

"Your fighting that demonspawn next week, but let me help you over the next seven days, and I guarantee you will wipe the floor with him. What do you say?"

Even without Julius' strong will and eager expression there was only one answer that even entered Michaels mind. He felt his shoulders straighten as he felt his determination flood his concious mind, and thoughts of victory, and someone to talk too for a week sealed the deal. He held out his hand and Julius shook it with a smile.

"I say Yes."