Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, he's owned by JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and various publishing companies. Assassin's Creed is owned by Ubisoft. I'm not making any money by posting this, and it was done purely for entertainment value.

Wiztergo

Last time on Wiztergo:

"Harry, are you ok," Hermione asked gently.

"I'm fine, just didn't get much sleep this week what with you in the hospital wing and all," he hedged.

"Are you sure? Ron said you were asleep when he went to check on you last night and that you didn't get up until just before we had to leave. Then you slept the whole way back," she prodded. Damn, looks like she's more suspicious than I thought Harry cursed mentally.

"Like I said, I didn't get much sleep this last week so I was just catching up. I feel a lot more awake now so I think I'm good."

"Alright, but promise me that you'll write me this summer and if you still feel off in a couple days that you'll get seen," she told him with a pleading look in her eyes. He felt his resolve crumbling quickly and made that promise even though he knew he would be fine by tomorrow. With the parchment she gave him last year he figured that he could easily write her by muggle post or call her as he assumed that his mail was being watched now. It would only make sense after everything that had happened to him in the past. With one last hug from Hermione and a quick goodbye to Ron, to keep the illusion going that he trusted the backstabber, he trudged towards the barrier to meet his uncle on the other side and get back to Privet Drive knowing that the less time he spent out in the open the better. Figuring that he only had a day to catch up on sleep before he needed to sneak back out or risk Dumbles showing up he started making plans.

"Boy, where have you been," Vernon roared before continuing much more quietly so as not to be overheard by other normal people, "And where are your glasses? I'm not spending good money to replace them again you freak."

"Train just got in Uncle Vernon, and you don't need to get me another pair of glasses as the nurse at school fixed my eyes," the lie came easily as he didn't care if Vernon believed it or not. Within 24 hours he would be out of their house, hopefully to never return.

Chapter 2: Sometimes It's Not Our Past That Haunts Us

While 24 hours was, what Harry thought, the worst case scenario, he had actually slept closer to 36 hours just getting caught up on the sleep that he missed. Luckily when he woke up it was still too early for his relatives to be awake yet, so with all the stealth he'd learned sneaking around Hogwarts he snuck through the house gathering supplies, like food and money, to ensure that his bid for freedom wasn't stopped before it began. The money came from Vernon's wallet as severance pay in Harry's mind. He'd worked himself to the bone for them for years for hand me down clothes, barely enough food, and until threatened a bed in the cupboard under the stairs. He felt he was entitled to a few hundred pounds for that, although Vernon wouldn't agree. His last stop before leaving the house for good was a quick check of the attic to ensure that there were no possessions of his parents lying around. He doubted it, but given the fact he was never allowed into the attic, even to clean, meant there was something there that he should rightfully have. The small chest he found buried into the corner with his mums name on it was definitely what his so called relatives had been attempting to hide from him, and a quick glance showed that it had nothing to do with the wizarding world. There were some loose pages written in a language that seemed similar to latin, but quite different at the same time. Along with the pages there were designs for clothes that seemed like wizarding clothes, but still different. Figuring that the contents could be examined in detail later the chest was closed and tucked under his arm and stuffed into his trunk before Harry walked right out the front door. He didn't bother closing or locking the door as he hoped that someone would walk right in and start stealing things. It would certainly teach his relatives if they woke up to discover all of their stuff gone.

The journey to the train station didn't take long as the town wasn't very big to begin with, and as it was still early there were few people out and about yet. Looking at his watch Harry noted in was 6:30 am, and the first train to London had left an hour ago with the next leaving in another 15-20 minutes. There was still plenty of time to get his ticket and grab a quick sandwich from the vendor at the station. After forcing down the sandwich that tasted almost as bad as some of the potions in the wizarding world, Harry boarded the train that would hopefully carry him to freedom. While waiting for the train to depart he took out a pen and piece of scrap paper he'd lifted from the kitchen to start creating a list of things he needed to accomplish.

Empty vault at Gringott's

Buy school books through 7th year

Buy law books on underage magic and emancipation

Find a way around laws

Rent a room in London, muggle side

Practice Occlumency

Call Hermione

Hire a solicitor if needed

Study through 5th year material

Take OWLs

Some of the items on the list, like the books for 6th and 7th year were for later, hopefully he'd be far enough into the course material to begin it by the end of the summer, but he'd have it just in case. And he was going to make sure that he picked up the books that were set when he was going into first year as he didn't think the so called defense books he purchased this year changed from one year to the next to inflate Lockhart's profits. Harry had heard in passing that education was only compulsory through the tests at the end of 5th year, the OWLs if he wasn't mistaken, so it was his hopes that he would be able to take them this summer if everything went to plan. That way he had a legitimate way to stop going to Hogwarts and be out of Dumbledore's grasp for good. Figuring that he needed things to do while not studying, as not even Hermione could study all the time, he had the chest of his mum's from the attic. It would take time to decipher which language and then the actual text, but it would also bring him closer to his mum. The connection to at least one of his parents was something he was grabbing with both hands and not letting go, so he figured he'd spend at least an hour a day working on it until it was fully decoded. Looking out the window for the first time since sitting on the train he noticed that they had left the station, probably a good bit of time ago, and the train was slowing down for one of the stops on the way to London. While the car had been more or less empty during the ride from Little Whinging, it appeared that more people got on the train at this stop as it was going to be nearly full when everyone was on. Taking out the chest from his truck quickly, so nobody noticed the other possessions in it, he decided to go through that during the trip to London as time would be short for the rest of the day. Looking at the pages again, what first appeared to be close to Latin, seemed to share only a few words in common:

Quelle che seguono sono i tre grandi ironie dell'Ordine Assassin: (1) Qui cerchiamo di promuovere la pace, ma l'omicidio è il nostro mezzo. (2) Qui cerchiamo di aprire le menti degli uomini, ma richiedono l'obbedienza a un maestro e un insieme di regole. (3) Qui cerchiamo di svelare il pericolo di una fede cieca, ma siamo professionisti noi stessi.

Non ho una risposta soddisfacente a queste accuse, solo possibilità ... Facciamo piegare le regole al servizio di un bene più grande? E se lo facciamo, cosa dice di noi? Che siamo bugiardi? Che ci sono truffe? Che siamo deboli? Ogni momento è passato alle prese con queste contraddizioni e nonostante tutti gli anni ho dovuto riflettere, ancora riesco a trovare una risposta adeguata ... E ho paura che uno non può esistere.

Niente è vero. Tutto è permesso. Il nostro credo fornire la risposta, allora? Che si può essere due cose - di fronte in ogni modo - contemporaneamente? E perché no? Non sono io la prova? Noi di nobili intenzioni, in possesso di mezzi barbari? Noi che celebriamo la santità della vita e poi subito prendere da quelli che riteniamo i nostri nemici?

(a/n: language is supposed to be Florentine, which is pretty close to regular Italian as it is. Any facts about it that could be wrong I apologize for, but I couldn't find much on it other than it was started by Dante and later grew in popularity until the standardized Italian after WWII.)

One phrase seemed to jump out of the page at him, writing it down on another scrap piece of paper he figured he'd start there when trying to find the language of origin. The person sitting next to him, an attractive woman in her early 20s with brunette hair, light blue eyes, and it seemed she was wearing what at first appeared to be a suit, except for the skirt, glanced over at his paper before cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," the woman spoke with a questioning tone to her voice, which was thickly accented. "What would a boy your age be doing translating that to Florentine? An attempt to make a motto for your gang no doubt."

"Excuse me," Harry asked, confusedly, before looking at his 'clothes'. He was still wearing his hand me downs, which with the current fashions looked a bit like what Piers and the others from Dudley's 'gang' wore. "Oh no ma'am, I found some things at home and I was wondering what language it was. That phrase seemed to jump out of the page at me so I figured I'd use that to track down the language." The woman looked down at him, appearing to be deciding whether she believed him or not, and she seemed to finally come to a conclusion.

"The language is Florentine, a pre-cursor, you could say, to the standard Italian language. If you are attempting to translate something then using regular Italian should suffice." That seemed all the woman was willing to give as she turned her attention elsewhere. But the information was a gold mine to young Harry; he had a place to start, and even the first bit translated Nothing is true, everything is permitted. The rest of the train ride went quickly for him as he kept turning that phrase over in his head wondering at the full meaning of the phrase. He could assume that it's meaning was obvious, but that didn't set right with him. Some how he knew that the phrase was a small part of a greater meaning. Decoding the rest of the pages would help him he knew, even if there were only 4 written pages and several pages of sketches. The woman only seemed to pay attention to him one more time, and that was to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention due to their arrival in London. Harry had adopted something of a 1,000 yard stare while thinking. After giving his thanks to the woman he disembarked the train at Waterloo station before hailing a cab over to Charring Cross and the Leaky Cauldron as it was close enough no to grab another train as they had done when Hagrid had brought him to get his school supplies. The ride was short and before Harry knew it he was staring up at the sign for the Leaky Cauldron, with a deep breath he made his way inside and with a quick wave to Tom marched right through to the back door and the entrance to Diagon Alley. Thankfully as it was just past 8 am there were no other people in the tavern that would recognize him. Knowing that if asked Tom would divulge that Harry had come through he knew he was now on a tight schedule. He needed to get to the bank and Flourish and Blotts quickly otherwise he'd be caught like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

(Break)

After 4 hours of shopping, 2 of which were in Diagon Alley and dealing with Gringott's, Harry finally managed to get his things stowed into the hotel room he managed to rent. After arguing with the goblins, manipulating the workers at the book store, and searching out book and clothing stores in muggle London he was exhausted. Deciding that it would be best to start things off the next day he ate the last of the sandwiches he had packed before leaving Privet Drive before letting his exhaustion consume him and going to sleep.

Dream:

"Safety and peace, Malik."

"Your presence here will deliver us both."

"It would make sense, my brother, to illustrate these attacks for the future of our brotherhood."

"Of course Master, to avenge my father and help reclaim the order my blade is yours."

"Carlo Grimaldi and the Barbarigo are in league with the one they call the Spainard. They're going to murder the Doge and replace him with one of their own. They will have all of Venezia, all of her fleet, in their grasp."

"And they call ME a criminal!"

"Who are the true nobles of Venice? People like Carlo Grimaldi and Marco Barbarigo? No! I say we are!"

"We have our prize, but there is much to be done."

"It is time we leave our land and head north, to hear tell, the Templars are massing under the rule of King Charles in the United Kingdom."

"Charles has discovered the tomb of a piece like the apple, now is the time to act, we must remove that piece from his possession before he learns how to use it or the fate of Masyaf will be the fate of the world."

With that last exclamation coming from his mouth Harry woke up in a cold sweat. He felt like he had been running all night, and was sore all over his body. Not even quidditch made him this sore. The dream was like snapshots of different lives, but nothing that made sense. He shelved the dream for now figuring that he would either forget the dream, as he normally did, or he could come back to it later. After a quick call to order some room service and a shower he opened his trunk and pulled out his text from Charms class for first year. Figuring that if he was to attempt the OWLs this summer he'd best start from the beginning and go from there.