I had a wonderful night last night... . I was very happy for no apparent reason at all and my wonderful boyfriend was being extremely sweet over the phone (I still think he wants something), or maybe he was just happy that I was singing and being silly and arrogant, something he hasn't been used to me doing lately...hehe.

Today is family day at my house, so I don't think I'll get Chapter Four done, but who knows, I might just get a spurt of inspiration late at night.. :)

I wrote this chapter a few months ago, but edited most of it a few days ago. I hope you have fun reading it, please review with your thoughts...

THANKS :)


Claim of Shadows
Chapter One:
Diagon Alley

A raven-haired six-year-old stared up into the strong face of the man whom he knew as Master Jairus, despite the persistent efforts that the youthful man had made to try and coax the boy to simply call him Jairus. There was seriousness about this boy, who quietly listened to every word spoken to him and nodded his head obediently when given orders. Only Jairus knew the true reason for the boy's somber and resolute personality. There hadn't been another like him in a thousand years and more, and there wouldn't be one like him for another millennium.

It grieved the once human man, remembering that had he never awoken the spirits within the boy, Harry Potter would be a very different child, perhaps bright and laughing and loving. Maybe he would have had friends by now. But, though he did sometimes wish he could have taken back his actions, he knew that it had been necessary for the good of the people. It had been his only choice.

Jairus had ripped away the little boy's childhood before he could even talk properly and taken him away to train when the lad barely knew how to walk. A lot of trouble it had caused him as well. That blasted fool of a sorcerer had sent nearly the entire wizarding world on his heels after he had retrieved the boy, forcing them both into seclusion. That hadn't been how he had wanted to raise and train the only remaining of his kind, locked away in some ancient, musty old underground fortress, but even after four or five years, Albus Dumbledore had not given up on his search of the kidnapper and murderer of Harry James Potter.

But Harry needed to see the real world; he needed to see why Jairus was trying to teach him these things. The boy didn't question why he was doing this, but he knew that if there was any hope that Harry could save the world, he needed to have some understanding of the lives that depended upon him and his choices alone. He needed to see what he was saving and he needed to learn why it was that he was saving them.

Not to mention, Jairus needed to pay a visit to a few old friends concerning weaponry, wands, and other supplies for the coming years of the boy's instruction.

"Harry, now, you understand what I ask of you?" He inquired, even though he already knew the answer.

The boy nodded solemnly, looking up with shimmering emerald eyes, darkened with shadows. There was so much power in this young child's gaze, so much intense magic that simply dripped from his very presence.

"Yes, sir," He replied, his voice soft, but the strength of it echoed throughout the room.

Jairus sighed, glanced away. He had often wondered what had kept him apart from all those who had turned from their vows. He had never really been able to give up on that human part of him, that part of his heart that fueled a compassion he so furiously tried to release. There was supposed to be no passion in his line of work, no friendship or love. They had been given this gift simply to protect, not to live their own lives.

He sensed the same compassion in Harry Potter, though the boy hid it very well. He wondered if perhaps it was a trait of his natural gift, or if it was just a strange deformity that the both of them carried.

He crouched down to the youngster's height, smiled, "Remember what I've taught you, Harry."

"I know, Master Jairus," He didn't even blink before his face changed. He was given a slightly lighter shade of hair and dark eyes much like Jairus's own. His skin was given a tone that was a tad darker. Harry was pale as a sheet, so white he was nearly blue, paler even than his own grave skin tone. It would surely make him stand out amongst a crowd.

"Show-off," Jairus smiled, his dark eyes glittering into Harry's. The list he had made of the child's gifts never ceased in extending. As he grew older, more and more talents surfaced and more and more training needed to be added on to help the boy keep his reign on them. Amongst the boy's already several amazing gifts of Occlumency, Legilimency, and all the talents that came along with being one of their kind, he was a Metamorphmagus, an amazing advantage and rare ability to possess. It wasn't a trait that their sect was known to have, so he suspected it was a gift that he had inherited from his rather prominent bloodlines. "Good, now take my hand."

The boy obeyed, slipping his small, slender hand trustingly into Jairus's. He felt a shimmer of a connection with Harry that he had not felt since his brothers had betrayed their oaths. This young lad was his last remaining brother, he thought, and it was his job to teach him what waited beyond the Shadows that they so dutifully hid behind.

Worriedly, he glanced into the eyes of his young apprentice. The child had come into his powers after the entrapment of his brothers by his hand. There was evidence that, added on to the thousands of viziers that already whispered in Harry's subconscious (not to mention his own) the Thirteen betrayers were also there to poison his thoughts, as they could not poison Jairus's. He had spoken to the boy about it. Harry had confessed to the presences in his mind that he could not place with names and faces as he could with the other past members of their society, but not how many or if they meant any harm at all. It was something he would have to look into, soon, with the boy.

"Master Jairus?" The child murmured, "Something bothers you, sir."

"Yes, Harry, it does, but it can wait."

"No, Master Jairus, it's about me, I can see that very clearly."

"Harry, it's rude to invade the minds of others." He shook his head, disappointedly.

"I haven't." Harry told him, quietly, "You aren't very good at hiding certain things, Master Jairus. Your face is very much like an open tome."

"No, lad, I never was good at keeping things to myself." He shook his head again, "There is a time and a place for everything, Harry, and now is not the time for this."

The lad stared up at him with darkened eyes, and nodded passively, but there was a flicker of curiosity there that he quickly suppressed. He was very good at listening and obeying requests and orders.

"Come."

Harry Potter held onto the hand of his guardian and master and wondered why in the world they were doing this. There was no point to it, leaving their hiding place and risking them being caught. The Voices had advised against it, but Jairus, like always, did not listen. For a moment, Harry silenced the Voices, which constantly whispered in his mind. He listened to the utter quiet and found that he did not always need to have them chattering away in his head. He looked at Jairus. This was a Shadow Warrior who had refused to give up on the human part of his self and had not given completely into the Voices, nor would he ever give into them.

He looked up at the man who so gently and carefully held his hand. The Voices were sometimes very harsh and cold, but there were always the few, one or two for every generation it seemed, that spoke to him softly with voices that reminded him of Master Jairus's.

He didn't want the cold, unfeeling harshness. He wanted life, he thought, gazing up at his guardian and mentor. What was life, he wondered. He had never known anything but the cold stone walls of the Fortress.

Was this what he was trying to show him? What life truly was, life beyond their sanctuary?

"Harry, hold onto my robes, and don't let go." Master Jairus told him firmly. Harry did as he was told. He felt a whisper in his mind try and push its way through but he ignored it, using as much strength as he could muster to keep it back. Master Jairus seemed to be smiling to himself, but there was no way to tell, because Harry was clinging to the dark robes of his guardian as tightly as he could. "Well, off we go!"

There was a death-defying whoosh and the sickening feeling of being squished into a tube before Harry could breathe again.

His eyes sprang open when noise flooded his ears. Master Jairus carelessly dusted off his clothing before reaching behind and tugging a hood over his head. He bent down and tugged Harry's own hood over his head, his hand lingering on the lad's shoulder to squeeze it encouragingly.

"Alright, lad, you are to stick close to me. Do not leave my side and if you do, contact the Circle immediately." Jairus secured the wand and blade beneath his robes and cloak then reached down, offering his hand to his young companion. Harry tentatively took it and braced himself for the wave of noise that would slam down upon him when they stepped out of the alleyway. There were so many people. Harry had rarely been around anyone but Jairus; occasionally his Godfather and the Werewolf visited. Sometimes, a secret friend of Master Jairus's that he wasn't even supposed to know about snuck into the Fortress deep at night.

Harry walked in a daze, confused and amazed by the splendor of everything around him. The people were grand and yet so very normal, he thought, meaningless yet so very precious. He could feel the light and the dark of them, noted their gently beating hearts and pulses. Life poured out from every crack and cranny of this strange place, a marketplace, he noted. Witches and wizards...and so many of them, too! He would have gasped, but his mouth was tightly clamped shut just for that reason. He didn't want to give attention to them.

Master Jairus hadn't told him there would be this many people around.

So many lives, he thought, trying to count them as they pushed through the crowd. There were dozens, hundreds, each burning at their own steady intensity.

The weight of it blew the six year old away. He felt his delight wash away as he thought of the Prophecy and the path that lay out before him. All these lights would suddenly flare and disappear if he failed. All this joy and laughter and merriment would be gone because he had failed.

The weight would have been nearly too much if he had not been holding onto his master. He wanted to choke and cry, but boys didn't cry, especially not Shadow Warriors. He looked at all of these people and suddenly blurted to his master.

"I have to save them all?" He asked, his voice trembling.

"Oh, Harry, no, no." Jairus stopped, bent down to his height, looked at him from beneath his shroud, "Some are not meant to be saved."

"But, but that's not fair…" Harry took a shuddering breath. The image of his master's kind gaze, so understanding, burned through his mind. The voices were slipping through, but he bit back at them, demanding that they leave him be.

"Yet, that is what our job requires, lad. Fairness and justice," He took a deep breath, looked down, "I'll be there to teach you lad."

Harry nodded faithfully and set his jaw. He had no choice on the matter. He had been born into the gift and the vows were bound to his heart. If he broke them, not even Jairus could save him…

He would never know life, he thought, even after he saved all these mortal people…his vows were eternal. He had been holding on to the hope that there would be something more for him, after the prophecy was fulfilled, but they were empty hopes. He was a Shadow Warrior, and in order to protect others, his life would have to be sacrificed.

He called to the Voices, whom he had never before trusted completely with his mind. He could not ignore their advice any longer. He could not and would not do all this on his own. Jairus had told him that in the end he could not help him, he was not meant to be a part of such a fight. Harry would have only the voices in his head to assist him.

Well lad>, a deep, rumbling voice called to him, We are the Council>

I know, you've told me before. He replied, his words echoing across his mind to the slender shadows that waited there.

We are your Council > The second voice was feminine, but just as strong and forceful as the last We are here to help… most of us wish you no harm>

"Lad?"

He turned away from the Voices, looked up to Master Jairus. There was a sad look on his fellow's face, but one of pride as well.

"You are learning very quickly." He smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You're training has fully begun."

Will you work your hardest lad?>

Yes, he swore to himself that he would, as he watched a pair of children grasp at their mother's hands, laughing as the sun shone in their golden hair.

He would save them all, that he swore.