Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am only writing this story for the enjoyment of the readers and myself.

A/N: If anybody gets confused about it, 01A770358 calls Dumbledore "Master" out of respect for a potential client, not because he is his master. Also, most of this story will be told from his POV.

Harry Potter and the Vizard of the D'yavol

Chapter 1: The Worth of a Devil

I had lived an interesting life in my first eighteen years. It had not been one of grand adventures. I had never fit the archetype of the "White Knight". I had been raised to be a killer and a worshipper of magic, itself. The lessons of The D'yavol had stayed with me throughout my entire life, but I had only learned a small fraction of what life actually consisted of. It had taken me a long time to accept who I was to become, but, luckily, I had a great deal of help from those I came to care for along my long and winding path. And to think, it had all started with an old man who was willing to put aside his most valuable trait to save me from myself: his value on human life.

I had looked down upon it when I first began to serve him, but that all changed in time. He had later died with the skeletons in his closet left relatively unknown. He had died a hero of the common man. As I look back on the first time I met Albus Dumbledore it is with full clarity that I know how much of a fool I had been back then. I had not known it then, but I do now. Albus Dumbledore had saved me from myself that fateful day. Magic bless him, he had taken a chance with me. I only hope that he has found peace wherever his "next great adventure" had taken him to.

It is here I will leave a memoir of my life, forever preserved in this grimoire, to serve as a guide to all future Potters. My heirs and my begotten, let my life serve as an example to you all. Always strive to find the truly valuable joys of life with all due diligence, for it is too soon when you will find rest in Death's embrace.

Lord Harry James Potter
Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter
July 31, 2076

An excerpt from Past Lord Potters' Personal Grimoire.

It was not a strange situation I found myself in. I commonly showed customers a mere hint of my abilities before they inevitably decided to purchase my services. As I walked along the maze-like halls of my long time home, though I never associated feelings to that home, I pondered the difference in today's duel. I had never been ordered to fight to the death in front of a customer. It was done occasionally, but only for the most important of customers. That had not occurred in my living memory, as short as that may have been.

The man in question, while certainly powerful, did not seem too special to me. I was stronger than him, but, then again, I had never met a witch or wizard my equal. He was old, yes, and undoubtedly considered to be a wise leader in his country, perhaps the world, but we had seen many of them come through our doors.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind. It was not yet my place to question such things. Should the Masters find out, as they usually did, then I would be punished most severely. My role, above all else, was to follow orders and bring honor to The D'yavol, my position be damned. I had to adhere to the same rules as all the others, with more laid upon me because of my position. I had never once considered it a burden. It was an honor.

Time was not of the essence, but I nonetheless hurried to my destination. The Masters were busy men who were not to be kept waiting. Even my time was spent in supplication to them. I repressed a shiver at the memory of the first, and only, time I had kept them waiting. I have always been told I am stubborn, but a quick study when it was most important.

My fist rose of seemingly its own accord to knock on the door before me. The traditions of The D'yavol had quite literally been tortured into me, though I considered that to be a technique of higher learning. I sank to my knee and bowed my head as the door opened before me. I showed the respect due to the Masters even though I was not one of them…yet. I knew their plans for me. I would not fail them.

"Rise, 01A770358." Master Vadim's voice was impassive as ever. I could tell he was pleased with my performance today. High praise, indeed. "Please, join us. We have much need of your services this day."

Bowing to them after I had risen, I walked into the room and stood to the left and slightly behind Master Vadim. I was neither an equal, nor a customer. I would not be invited to sit. I chanced a quick look at today's customer, though I had already memorized his appearance and what little intricacies I could see of him before the battle. Eidetic memory was the gift of one of many rituals performed on us at a young age. It had served me well many times.

"Let us speak of prices, Master Dumbledore," Master Vadim continued as if they had never been interrupted. "Do you wish to purchase 01A770358?"

I hid my shock well. We had been rented out many times, and my cost even then was substantial. An assassin of The D'yavol had not been bought for nearly two hundred years. Offers had been made, but the Masters were always wary of outright selling us. The last assassin to be bought had been subservient to a very charismatic politician who had used the assassin to carve a path of tyranny through South America. His rule had been a question of "when" and not "if" until a very wealthy lord had rented one hundred assassins to hunt the two men down. It had completely drained his substantial coffers. I could hardly comprehend why the Masters would even consider such an offer, though it was not my place to question them.

"First, I believe I should see this wizard's face," Master Dumbledore replied easily. "I would know the face of the man whose life I own before a decision is made."

"What you ask is highly irregular," Master Alexei ground out angrily, "And it toes the line of disrespect. Tell me why I should grant your request and not gut you where you sit."

Master Dumbledore smiled serenely as he looked upon me. Was he insane? He surely knew any of us could easily kill him without his wand. I had easily ambushed and incapacitated him earlier in the day.

"I believe the boy is the child of two prophecies." Dumbledore leaned forward and shifted his gaze to the two Masters of The D'yavol. "I merely wish to confirm this. If he is not then I will peacefully submit to obliviation of the last three months of memories."

The two Masters cast a secrecy spell around themselves and began conversation in earnest. As interested as I was to know of their conversation, I knew it was not meant for my ears. As I stood watch over the two Masters, though they would not need it, I stared at Master Dumbledore from beneath my shadowed hood. He was staring at me with hope in his old, periwinkle blue eyes. They seemed wet with unshed tears as he looked back at me. Why would this old wizard cry over me when he knew not who I was?

It boggled my mind. I had not shed a single tear in over fourteen years. It was a sign of weakness. I had heard whispers of Albus Dumbledore when I had been deployed forward in Britain. They spoke of his kindness and his great power. I had mentally scoffed then, and I repeated the action now. People of power did not cry. They did not carry their emotions on their sleeves. Emotions were for children, the weak, and the pitiful.

His watery stare made me uncomfortable, but I refused to look away. I could not show weakness in front of anybody, much less a valued customer, no matter how strange his demands were.

Assassins of The D'yavol normally worked in absolute secrecy. No customer ever saw our face and always had their memories wiped, not of our existence, but that a deal had been reached between them and us. If we were to appear in large crowds we were always in disguise. Only the Masters and Division Commanders knew the details of any mission, other than the assassin on the mission.

Our secrecy and the magicks within The D'yavol protected us. We were unknowable to most, invisible to all, and shrouded in the secrets of the truly arcane. Assassins of The D'yavol, who were known only in the lowest of places, were spoken of in secret. We were the killers in the night whose origins and operationss were unknown. We were, in short, monsters of both the best and worst kind. We took no joy in what we did, but neither did we dislike it. It was a job that needed to be done. The job of men and women who had lost their humanity long ago. So why? Why would this man shed tears for me? He surely knew what I was. It would be a long time before I figured out the answer to that question.

"We accept your request, Master Dumbledore, but we have one demand of you." Master Dumbledore's gently smiling face fell at the last piece of the phrase. Master Vadim's eyes glinted maliciously in the torchlight. "If you choose not to purchase our most prized assassin, you will be killed in a manner of our choosing for your slight against our customs. You may leave with never seeing his face, but your mind will be wiped of all knowledge of us and we will lock your mind from ever learning of us once again. If you choose to see his face you will pay any price we demand of you or die. The choice is yours, Master Dumbledore."

Would he do it? Would he really gamble his life on the nearly impossible probability I was the person he is searching for? I, personally, would never have done such a thing. I looked into his blue eyes. They had lost their shine as a mental battle with himself took place in his rather limited mind. Any sane man would choose the safer of the two options, but this man seemed anything but sane.

"I will see his face," Master Dumbledore replied resolutely. I mentally shrugged. His body would certainly be on display in Britain by the end of the day. One does not simply insult the Masters of the D'yavol without facing proper punishment.

I looked to the Masters for permission. Alexei merely nodded at me with pursed lips. My always steady hands wanted so badly to shake as I slowly reached for my hood, but I forced myself to show no weakness. None had seen my face, save the Masters. Our faces were always hidden from all others in order to safeguard our true appearance. We even slept in our robes, such was our paranoia of our secrecy being broken.

I felt the air hit my shaved scalp for the first time in as long as I could remember. It was cooler than I had expected. Master Dumbledore gaped when he saw the runes that had been carved into my skin when I was younger. They appeared as normal, white scars when my magic did not power them. Suddenly, his eyes flitted to the one scar on my body that I knew nothing of. A small lightning bolt scar, still red after all these years, was on my forehead two inches above my left eyebrow.

"My face, as requested, Master Dumbledore." My green eyes stared impassively into his emotional blue orbs. My voice sounded strange in my ears without the voice modulating magic on my hood. Even with my eidetic memory I could not remember a time when I had heard my own voice. The robes had been with me since my arrival. I could not remember that far back, of course. The ritual to give me eidetic memory was not performed until I was five. It had only been the first of countless rituals.

"I trust you will not reveal his true name when you see his face, Master Dumbledore." Master Vadim's query was posed as a question, but I could hear the well-hidden threat within it. "If you decide to procure him then you may do as you wish."

"Of course, Master Vadim." Master Dumbledore's eyes never left mine as he spoke softly. More tears had built in his eyes, but he had yet to shed them. Disgusting. "Out of curiosity, if decide to purchase him, what will happen to our young assassin?"

Master Alexei waved a hand as if it were of no concern. "What we sell is no longer ours, other than, of course, our secrecy. We honor our code and our agreements. You can leave 01A770358 to anyone you wish after your death. When you obtain ownership of 01A770358 you own him…completely."

"What is your price?" What other choice did the older man have, but to accept their offer when his other option was a humiliating death?

"We will require two hundred-seventy-three muggle females and they must be virgins," Master Vadim replied easily. Master Dumbledore's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Do not look so surprised, Master Dumbledore. That is not all we require of you."

"We also require one hundred-forty-seven witches or wizards with a large amount of magical power," Master Alexei continued. "We care not of their blood status, only their power. You will, of course, pay these if a price is required. We care not if it is your gold or an associate's. Also, we will require thirteen million galleons for to complete the transaction."

All the numbers were divisible by either seven or thirteen and were able to be placed in twenty-one groups of seven or thirteen. I knew, of course, what these people would be used for, but I did not care. Would he choose death for himself, or would he sacrifice hundreds of people for me? His conundrum interested me.

"What will you do with them-"

"Is none of your concern," Master Vadim cut in sharply as he stood. The runes etched across my head began to glow an eerie blue as I readied myself to defend my Masters. "That is the business of The D'yavol. Do not forget your place, Dumbledore! Your choice…NOW!"

"I accept," Master Dumbledore sighed solemnly. It seemed I was of great worth to him, but, then, the services of The D'yavol were never without great sacrifice. I pulled the magic from my runes and the glow subsided. "Though I do so with a heavy heart."

"No matter your heart, Master Dumbledore," Master Alexei replied happily as magic rushed around the group of three to accept their transaction. "01A770358 is now yours to do with as you please. How will you go about paying this debt?"

I looked at him in interest, but my eyes hid my emotions well. They always did. How did my new Master, this… "Leader of the Light", intend to pay quite a hefty sum? I was sure he did not simply have hundreds of muggles and magicals sitting around in his house.

"The gold is rather easy," Master Dumbledore replied while pinching the bridge of nose and slumping down in his chair. He was ashamed at what he had done, and as a result his occlumency shields had weakened somewhat. I was able to make out, 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' by using some passive legilimency.

"The boy's godfather is a rather rich man, though this will put a dent in his fortune." Master Dumbledore looked at me from the corner of his eye before sitting up from his previous slumped position. "Have your sources look up Sirius Black. He lives in Twelve Grimmauld Place, London. I will tell him to have the galleons available and placed on his sitting room table for your pick up one week from today."

Master Dumbledore drew a piece of parchment from his breast pocket and handed to Master Alexei. "The home is under a Fidelius Charm. I am sure one of your assassins would be more than capable of getting in and out undetected."

Master Alexei gave the older man a small smile and nodded.

"The muggles and magicals you demand will be much more difficult and would require personal interaction." Master Vadim looked annoyed, but waved that Master Dumbledore should continue. "Lord Voldemort, or as you know him, Tom Riddle, has been collecting muggles and magicals in Britain to sell off into either the slave trade or underground prostitution rings. I have a spy in his ranks who could give me the name of their contact. As much as this pains me, I will pay for their services in advance, but I will need your contact to be the face he sells to and get an oath from him for our agreed upon number. If the numbers stay the same as they have you will have your muggles and magicals before the year's end, if not a bit sooner."

"These are…acceptable terms, Master Dumbledore. However, if we are not paid in full by this time next year, as we do know difficulties arise with obtaining human specimens, we will kill you and anybody who has associated with 01A770358 in that time. Also, any payment received up to that point will be considered ours to retain and we will also regain 01A770358 back into our ranks." Master Vadim looked at me impassively. "01A770358, our last act as your Masters before we release you to your new Master is to recommission your oath. Do you accept?"

As this was a mere formality and not an actual request, I nodded my consent.

"Do you, 01A770358, swear upon your life and your magic to obey the commands of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore as you would our own? Do you further swear to uphold his honor and be his shield, even at the sacrifice of your own life, should he require it? And lastly, do you swear to never betray The D'yavol, and uphold the values and code of honor of the current Masters of The D'yavol?" Alexei looked at me and allowed a small amount of sadness to cross his eyes before he became impassive just as quickly. I knew it pained him to lose his son. I really was the best assassin to replace them, but it was not to be. The muggles and magicals they collected over the coming months would create many like me. They would never be as strong as me, but through their numbers The D'yavol would still gain strength.

"So I swear, so it will be," I replied evenly. Black magic and neon green sparks of energy swirled around me as my magic accepted the oath. I immediately turned to my new Master and fell to one knee, as expected of me by my old masters. "With your permission, Master, I would pull up my hood."

Master Dumbledore nodded and I quickly raised my hood. I never realized how much a simple action could soothe my nerves. I cursed the weakness I had never truly thought about. Silence reigned around me as I continued to kneel. Master Dumbledore was not accustomed to owning a life completely.

"Please rise, Harry." I chanced a look at him. He was addressing me.

"As you will, Master." As I rose to stand I saw Master Dumbledore wince as if preparing for me to strike him. He did not enjoy this. Most men who came through here would have. Perhaps that was why my old masters agreed to this deal.

Master…no, Mr. Alexei held out his hand toward Master Dumbledore. The two shook with smiles on their faces, one warm and one tainted with regret. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Master Dumbledore. I hope we can do so again."

"Alas, I believe this will be the last time I shall step foot on your hallowed grounds again," Master Dumbledore replied. "I am satisfied with the result of our agreement, even if I feel unclean due to its means."

Mr. Alexei turned toward me. "01A…Harry, Vadim and I truly enjoyed watching you grow into the assassin you are today. I know you will make The D'yavol proud. We would have had you as our son, but you know as well as I we could not refuse this opportunity."

I bowed low before the two. "It has been my pleasure serving you in life, Mister Alexei, Mister Vadim. I bear no ill will toward either of you. I will always endeavor to honor both Master Dumbledore in life and The D'yavol in death's embrace."

"D'yavol pity the living," Mr. Vadim said loudly.

"Honor the dead," Mr. Alexei continued.

"Our rest lies in Death's embrace," I finished.

"If that is all, Master Dumbledore, we shall escort you to the edge of our wards and provide you with an international portkey to Diagon Alley in London." Mr. Vadim was back to business, it seemed.

With Master Dumbledore's nod, I left The D'yavol for what would be the last time in my life. I thought little of it at the time. The Vizard of the D'yavol had been bought with blood and gold, but was it worth the price? Only time would tell.

A/N: I am not going to have any set chapter length. The chapters will be as long as I feel they should be. I apologize for the amount of time it took me to write this chapter, though I have written all the way through chapter six. Work has been crazy! I hope you enjoyed. And thank you to all who took the time to review the prologue as well as follow or favorite. To all the Americans reading this story, I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!