And here comes the third chapter of Monsters and Humans, where Harry finally meets Dumbledore! I hope you'll like how things go!


I don't own Harry Potter or Hellsing, only this plot.


02

Dealing with Wizards

Hermione Jean Granger was not having a good day. In fact, ever since she had learnt she was a witch, she couldn't say that she had ever had good days. She had been so hopeful, so happy, back then when Professor McGonnagal explained everything to her parents. Explained that all the strange accidents that had happened over the years were caused by accidental magic, making her a witch, and making it so that she had to study at Hogwarts to learn how to control her powers. She could still remember the childlike excitement she had felt that day, to know that she would be learning magic, that she would be part of a world that only a select few knew existed.

She had seen it as the occasion to finally make some friends like her, to finally be known as someone else than the bookworm, the "rabbit", with her prominent front teeth. She had read book after book to prepare herself as best as she could for Hogwarts, and short of casting the spells detailed in her books, she had done everything to get ready. When she had sat to be Sorted, she had already decided that she wanted to be a Gryffindor, to follow in Albus Dumbledore's footsteps and become a great witch, just like he had become a great wizard. Of course, she was aware that Ravenclaw would have suited her more, but surely the Gryffindors would accept her, right? Right. Barely two months after coming to Hogwarts, she was nowhere near close to making friends, and the best reaction that she had from her Housemates was polite indifference. The girls didn't care about studies, preferring to speak about boys, make-up and such, and the boys were far too childish to hold an intelligent conversation. A few of them, led by Ronald Weasley, a redhead with atrocious table manners, even bullied her, calling her a know-it-all, mocking her inability to make friends.

In the end, because of this, she had almost died when a troll had wandered in the bathroom she had been crying in, and it was only because Neville Longbottom had warned a teacher that she had not died. However, even if she hadn't died, she hadn't gotten out of it unscathed either. Despite Poppy Pomfrey's skills in Healing, she would never be able to walk without a stick again. Yet despite this, Ronald Weasley had not been suspended, and had only gotten a few points docked and a detention. It was after that that she had contemplated withdrawing from Hogwarts, however she had learnt that if she was to withdraw, then her magic would be bound, and her knowledge of the magic world erased. In essence, a part of herself would forever be locked away, out of her grasp, and Pomfrey had warned her that the few cases of people she had known to make that choice had never led a fulfilling life, always feeling as if they were missing something.

So she had sucked it up, and decided that she would no longer allow herself to be weak. If the other Gryffindors (bare Neville) didn't want to become her friends, then she would do without them. She had thrown herself in her studies with a vengeance, however this time instead of focusing on theory, she made sure to master the practical aspect as well. Due to her handicap, she could not dodge incoming spells, which was why she had devised a way to draw magic from the air to complement her shields, making them far more resistant than average. She had expanded her repertoire of spells, making sure to learn how to defend herself, and only going to ask for teachers' help when she had no other choice, since she had learnt that the troll accident was due to something that all of the teachers were on. Considering what their actions had caused for her, she felt less than inclined to trust them, and even less Dumbledore, who seemed rather uncaring of what had happened to her.

Her years after her first didn't go much better. The Gryffindors had left her at peace after she had hexed them when they had tried to bully her again, however the Slytherins kept calling her a Mudblood, a disgrace of a witch, someone who on the social ladder of the Wizardry World, was only one step above non-magicals, who were seen as animals. She was considered a second-class citizen, despite her perfect results and impeccable school record. She learnt from some of her younger Housemates, whom she tutored on magic, that after Hogwarts her prospects for the future were bleak at the very least, non-existent at the very worst. It didn't matter that she was, by far, the best student of her year, even if the dumbest Pureblood on Earth was to want the same job than her, they would be hired and not her. At best, she could become an assistant in one of the Departments of the Minister of Magic, but she would never rise beyond that.

She had felt cheated, betrayed, and had stormed into her Head of House's office to ask for straight answers. McGonnagal not only confirmed what she had heard, but even admitted to intentionally leaving the subject out of her encounters with Muggleborns' parents because it would scare them away, causing the Ministry to seal their magic away. In the end, a Muggleborn had the choice between having a part of them sealed away, or to become a second-class citizen of the magical world. They couldn't even go back to the non-magical world, as their education in Hogwarts left them so far behind their peers that they had no hope of ever catching up with them, which meant that they would have no way of finding a job there either.

She had felt her world shatter that day, and had felt deep hatred for the ones responsible for the situation take root in her heart. Dumbledore had THREE positions of power, for Merlin's sake, surely he could have done something to allow Muggleborns better job prospects? But no, the man was barely seen, and when asked, McGonnagal had told her that he was dedicating his time to finding Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Disappeared. She did feel some satisfaction at hearing that all of his efforts were for naught, though.

Anyway, at the time, she was fourteen, and had thought that her situation couldn't get worse. How wrong she had been. Sometimes around the end of 1995 and the beginning of 1996, Lord Voldemort had been resurrected, or, from what she had heard from a conversation between McGonnagal and Dumbledore, regained a body. While the Ministry had fiercely denied such a thing, and proceeded to slander the old man and all those that believed them, only a fool would have missed the signs of the Dark Lord's return. Dementors had begun showing up everywhere in England, breeding like crazy, and causing the weather to be either rainy or foggy, even in the middle of summer. Attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns were at an all-time high, entire families vanishing overnight, while the children from notorious Dark families got more brazen, more open in their beliefs, doing everything short of announcing their master's return. She was often cursed in the corridors, and it was only because she was used to it that she managed to avoid the worst of it. She knew she couldn't expect anything from Dumbledore, as the one time she went to ask him why he was doing nothing to stop what was happening in his school, the man had answered that they could be redeemed, and that a harsh punishment would only make them go Dark. She had made it quite clear what she thought of him afterwards, and had proceeded to help the younger Muggleborns, teaching them spells to defend themselves, as well as a few rules they could use to their advantage.

She did not fool herself, however, as she knew that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made his move, and considering his views on Muggleborns, she was thinking about leaving the country altogether, though she would need to convince her parents of the danger. That, she had little doubt would be easy, her parents had raised her well, and trusted her, which meant that she wouldn't need to convince them that she was telling them the truth. She was already getting ready to flee the country, and had made plans to flee with her parents to Australia, where the magical community was more accepting towards people like her, and where her parents had a few friends.

She only had to wait until the end of the year, and she would leave. Let the fools reap what they had sown.

-Break-

Harry grinned as he smacked Rip Van Winkle's ass, causing the female vampire to yelp and go red, looking everywhere but at him. He was the only one who could do such a thing, as any other would find themselves with a lot of holes in their bodies. Granted, thanks to the ameliorations to the artificial vampires they wouldn't die, but it would be painful as Hell. The reason why he could do such a thing was simple: ever since his arrival at Millennium, Rip had taken the role of an older sister to him, and she was easily, with Schrödinger, the Werewolf he was the closest to. Of course, Rip, despite her age, looked like she was in her early twenties, and while she lacked the curves to really stand out as a beautiful woman, she still was a beautiful woman. The fact that he was a teenager with raging hormones, and that Rip hadn't "done the deed" in more than fifty years had made it easy for them to take their friendship to a new level. Neither of them was in love with each other, that much was made clear before they did anything, however they were very close, and certainly had a deep affection for each other. So, the correct term for their relationship would be sex friends, though they were far closer than most.

Rip, despite her insecurities about her figure, was most certainly a beautiful woman, though some would have criticized her lack of bust, but he knew better. He had seen her naked, in nothing but her birthday suit, and she was beautiful. She was perfect, he had told her as much, and even if they weren't lovers, he was being honest. She had perfectly smooth, long legs, a flat stomach, thin but toned arms, a testament of her training as a soldier and of her abilities as an elite shooter, an aristocratic face with some freckles that made her look younger than she was, and smooth, snowy white skin. Her raven hair was silky, and despite her claims that she didn't do much to care for it, it was always perfectly combed and smooth.

He had also convinced her to join him, since from what he knew of the Major's plans, she was to be used as bait for Alucard, nothing more, and it would have been a waste to leave her to die like that. As such, he had made her a special portkey by using her necklace, one that would allow her to disappear to a safe house he had set up beforehand. Just in case, he had also used her glasses, and had keyed both portkeys to her, meaning that even if an enemy managed to get their hands on the porkeys, they would be unable to use them.

By now, he had managed to convince several grunts to join him as well, and he was contemplating asking the Doctor if it would be alright for him to transform people he picked up himself. If he had learnt one thing from his childhood, it was that if anyone had rescued him from his Hell, he would have done everything they had asked. As such, he was thinking about rescuing people who had nothing left to lose to create his own troops. Considering how poorly the world at large was run, he knew that he wouldn't be lacking candidates.

-Break-

Harry had to refrain from scoffing as he entered Diagon Alley, followed by Rip. The two of them, along with Zorin, had been tasked with coming to England and deal with a few people, since apparently, and after much discussions, the Order of the Phoenix had agreed to help the Hellsing Organization. This was something that the Major did not want, a feeling echoed by most of the Werewolves. They all remembered their crushing defeat at Alucard and Hellsing's hands during World War II, and had spent the last fifty years getting ready for their revenge. To have people butting in did not sit well with them, and, considering who said people were, neither did it sit well with Harry.

The Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore's pet organization, created during the War in Britain to deal with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, however due to how it was run, its' efficacy was low at best. The only reason they had shown results at all was because a few members of the Order were clever enough to understand that merely stunning their opponents, like Dumbledore wanted, was useless, and as such fought to kill. Apparently, the old man had reactivated the Order after his disappearance to look for him, but now that Voldemort was back, they were also working on preventing him from returning to his full power, and failing miserably.

Apparently, there had been some kind of prophecy made to Dumbledore that Voldemort had learnt of, a prophecy that involved him, supposedly marking him as the only one able to defeat the Dark Lord. Of course, when told as such, Harry had laughed until he cried due to how stupid it sounded. Magical people all carried around weapons of mass destruction in the form of a wand, yet instead of fighting the Death Eaters and Voldemort themselves, they expected a teenager to do it for them. He had no intention of fighting for them, not when they were the ones responsible for the rise of the Dark Lord with their corrupt Ministry and Pureblood bigotry.

Anyway, the Major and the Werewolves didn't want outsiders to butt in their fight with Hellsing, and considering that said outsiders were directly involved with Harry's life, it had been decided that he would be the one to deal with them. Any of the Werewolves could have done so, of course, however, since Harry had a bone to pick with Dumbledore for leaving him at the Dursleys, and that he had been a wizard himself before his operation, the honor was his. Rip had come along because she wanted to help him, and Zorin was just there in case he needed some help. Of course, considering how much the muscled woman stood out in public, they had left her at a safe house, since having her walking with them in the middle of an alley where everyone had the mentality of people living in the eighteenth century was bound to attract too much attention.

The plan was rather simple: since the Order wanted to find Harry, all they had to do was make it so that they "accidentally" found him. As such, Harry was going to visit Diagon Alley when a notoriously "Light" family was there, pretending that he wanted to check on his family's vault. The cover story was that he had just recently learnt of his origins, and had come to England to see for himself the Potter Vaults.

The Weasleys, from what their contact had told them, were almost all in the Order, and from what Harry had found on them, they were also laughingly poor. This was due to several things, the first being that they had seven children, a glaring abnormality for a Pureblood family, the second was that the Head of the family, Arthur Weasley, had a fascination with Muggles and was content with his job when he could have easily found a better paying one had he bothered to look, and finally, the fact that the ancestors of both the patriarch and matriarch of the family had poor managing skills, burning their money as if they were rich.

Walking with Rip, who was getting odd and sometimes outraged looks from the few people present due to the fact that she was wearing what in the wizards' eyes were men's clothes, it did not take long for him to spot the gaggle of red-haired people walking out of the bookstore.

Leading the group was who Harry assumed to be Molly Weasley, a plump woman who seemed to be rather overbearing if the way she was babbling instructions to her teenage children was any indication. Sure, she was their mother, but the way she was speaking made it clear that she believed her children were still unable to take care of themselves if she wasn't there. Next to her, looking rather embarrassed was a gangly redhead around his own age, who was wearing robes that had obviously seen better days, as he could spot several small food stains on them. Behind the two was a rather cute teenage girl with freckles, who luckily for her did not resemble her rather round mother. She was looking quite exasperated, understandable if her mother treated her like she was currently doing all the time. From what he could hear, it was as if the older woman believed her daughter to be made of glass. Finally, another redhead with several scars stood next to the group, surveying the area. To Harry's trained eyes, the man was the only one in the entire alley with a posture showing any form of physical training, which just showed how incompetent British wizards were. In South America's magical schools, it was mandatory to practice at least one sport, if only to have wizards and witches with bodies able to channel their power properly.

When they were at the group's side, Harry made sure to walk straight into the daughter, knocking her to the ground as he blinked, as if he had been deep in thought and hadn't noticed the girl. Making sure to act as an apologetic teenager, he dusted himself and made to reach for the downed girl.

"Sorry about that, I was a bit lost in thought." he apologized, though now that he could see her up close, he had to admit that the girl was somewhat cute. Not on Rip's level, of course, but had he encountered her on one of his missions for Millennium, he would certainly have taken the time to rape her.

"Yeah, well next time look...where...you're...going..." started to rant the girl, only to trail off and blush as she finally caught sight of his face.

Smirking inside, though he made sure that his amusement was not shown on his face, he lifted her up easily, before he made a show to take out his wand a vanish whatever dirt had stuck to her clothes. Of course, he didn't need a wand, but he'd rather not have his enemies aware of that fact just yet. It had been personally made for him, and the wandmaker had seemed to know just what kind of person he was dealing with when he had told him that his wand was made for someone who cared not for the lives of others, someone who practiced the Dark Arts. Of course, Harry had made sure to obliviate the man afterwards, since even if he didn't think he'd warn the local wizard police, he didn't want to take risks.

"Watch where you're going next time!" growled the youngest male redhead, looking rather angry, that is until he glared at him.

"I was distracted, and I apologized. These things happen, get over it. Besides, I didn't bump into you, I bumped into your sister. Though I admit I must have been very distracted to miss a cute girl like her."

His words made the redhead squeak and blush in embarrassment while the male Weasley seemed to get even angrier.

"Hey you! She's got a boyfriend already, so hands off! She doesn't-OUCH!"

"Shut up Ron, I can speak for myself, thanks!" growled the girl. "I'm Ginevra Weasley, but you can call me Ginny. This idiot is my brother Ronald, the guy standing behind me is my older brother Bill, and this is my mother Molly." she said, smiling at him.

His enhanced senses could pick up her arousal, and he had to refrain from chuckling. A quick peak in her head showed that he had guessed right, this girl was very, very experienced when it came to having sex. Apparently her boyfriend was just the latest in a long series of boys, all of which she had slept with. More often than not, she had left them when she had grown bored of them, since she was very aware that she was attractive and as thus could easily find another boyfriend. It seemed that he had lucked out when he had bumped into her, as she was already thinking about seducing him.

It was also very funny for him to realize that she had a crush on him, or at least on what she imagined he was like. After all, the books written about him and the stories her mother told her about him were hardly accurate, since nobody in the magical world had seen him since he was one. The eight-years old Harry Potter depicted in them was quite different from the truth, he saved princess and defeated dragons, while the real Harry was a monster who cared little about others at the same age. The Harry of stories was always preaching about peace and love, while he barely knew what love was.

"A pleasure, Ginny. This lady by my side is Rip Van Winkle, a good friend. And I'm Harry Blitz. Well, that's my adopted name anyway."

"You were adopted?" blinked the redhead, before looking at his eyes, hair, and then focusing on his forehead, where his "legendary" lightning bolt scar was barely visible. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she promptly dragged her mother away, starting a hushed conversation with her. Of course, had he been human, he would never have heard what they were saying, but since he was a vampire, he could hear them as if they had been speaking out loud right next to him.

He felt himself twitch at what he was hearing, and the fact that Ronald was glaring at him as if he was an insult to everything he stood for didn't help his mood. It was easy to see that Molly believed her daughter when she said he was Harry Potter, as she kept glancing at him. Apparently the Weasley matriarch liked the idea of her daughter marrying into old money, as the second Ginny had suggested that she try to seduce him she had agreed. In fact, the two seemed to be contemplating using a love potion on him. He could tell that neither wanted to do so, but apparently they felt that they were a couple made in Heaven, since it reminded the matriarch of his own parents, and they would do anything to have Harry marry Ginny.

Humanity at its' finest, he inwardly snorted. And then people wonder why I hate humans. A bunch of self-serving bastards, yes!

"Excuse me?" asked the matriarch as her daughter and her came back, "You look a lot like some old friends, and their son, who disappeared, was also named Harry. Do you know who your parents are?"

"Well, when I asked the local Gringotts bank, they did this test with my blood...I think my full name was Harry James Potter?"

-Break-

Harry had to refrain from groaning at the assembly currently staring at him. The moment the Weasleys had confirmed he was indeed Harry Potter through Bill Weasley's contacts in Gringotts (Harry had made sure to tell the Goblins beforehand to allow the leak of information), they had insisted that he come with them, and here they were, sitting in a house that seeped darkness from every wall. Apparently it was a house belonging to the Black family, who were renowned in Britain for being among the darkest families in existence, that is until the current family Head, Sirius Black, who was firmly aligned with the "Light".

Rip was sitting next to him, looking around happily, or at least trying to, since the atmosphere was tense, and for obvious reasons, she hadn't been able to take her musket. Of course, not having her weapon of choice available should things go South made her nervous, though he had faith in her ability to take care of herself if it came down to a fight. He had to admit that subtlety was not these people's strong point however, as they were all openly staring at him, some in awe, some with suspicion, and some (Ginny Weasley) were staring at him as one would a very juicy steak.

"Well, perhaps you could tell us why we are here?" he asked, feeling quite aggravated by the rudeness shown by the wizards. "You were pretty insistent on us following you, so perhaps you could explain what you want?"

"Mind your manners, Harry. All will be explained when the Headmaster will arrive here." said Molly Weasley, looking gently admonishing, and he blinked at the woman.

"Excuse me?"he asked incredulously, "Who the Hell do you think you are to tell me what I should do? We've known each other for what? Ten minutes? I'm not going to listen to a woman I barely know, especially when you've brought us in this house without bothering to tell us why you even wanted us here!"

From the way the older woman seemed to swell on herself like an angered frog, reddening until her face was almost undistinguishable from her hair, she did not like to have people talk back to her, however he wasn't about to back down so easily. Besides, since he couldn't kill her just yet, he would have to make do with insults and verbal barbs.

"He's got you there, Molly." chuckled a bald, dark-skinned man. "Leave him some space, you've just dragged him here without explaining anything to him, of course he's going to be defensive."

"Where is this, anyway?" asked Rip, who seemed torn between liking the dark atmosphere of the house, her vampiric nature making her more in tune with it, and looking disgusted at the state it was in.

It was obvious to anyone that the house had not seen any use for a very long time, as when they had entered, they had seen crackled wallpapers, and decorations that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum for the nineteenth century. A thin layer of dust covered most of the furniture outside of the obviously used rooms, and the air itself smelled of dust and decay.

"We're in the house I grew up in." came the voice of Sirius Black as the man entered the room.

He was rather good-looking for a wizard, well for one who had spent twelve years rotting in a cell surrounded with soul-sucking, despair-inducing abominations. He still looked a bit underfed, but he certainly looked far better than he had in the photos posted in the Prophet, the British magical newspaper, when he had broken out of Azkaban.

"The name's Sirius Black, Harry. I know this looks a bit sudden, but I was a good friend of your parents'. I'm also your godfather."

He inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course he knew that, after all he had accessed his parents' Will, which had explained quite a few things he had been wondering about. Apparently, Dumbledore had been a manipulative bastard, sealing off the Will since it nominated people who could have raised him, while at the same time stressing that he was not to be given to the Dursleys, under any circumstances. Yet the aged man had purposefully ignored the Will, which he had witnessed, in favor of placing him with the Dursleys. Once he had learnt that there was a Prophecy concerning him and Voldemort, it had been easy to see that the Leader of the Light planned to raise him as a martyr. He had no idea of what had gone through Dumbledore's mind or what he had planned exactly, he only knew that the old man had done a lot to see that he grow up unloved.

Just as he was thinking about the man responsible for making him into the monster he was, said man strode in, his posture calm and confident, as if he actually owned the house they were in. He had to admit, the old man was powerful, of that there was no doubt, he could feel the power rolling off him in waves, more so than any other wizard and witch he had met. Still, he was about as powerful as him, and unlike the older wizard, he had trained himself to be the best in everything. Dumbledore was so used to getting what he wanted that he doubted the old man had trained a single day in the last decade.

He quirked an eyebrow when the "Leader of the Light" stared at him, more specifically at his eyes, before his stare drifted to his almost faded scar, and almost too fast for anyone to notice, his wand was drawn and pointed at him.

"Albus?!"

"Dumbledore, what is the meaning of this?!" thundered Sirius, looking absolutely furious.

"Be silent, Sirius." ordered the old man, his gaze never leaving Harry.

Waving his wand in a complicated manner, Dumbledore stared as a dull red glow appeared around Harry, before it flashed bright red, making the old man's face fall.

"Oh, Harry. What have you done?" he whispered, his face full of regret. "How could you let this happen?"

"Dumbledore?" asked a confused Sirius, looking between the aged leader and his godson. "What's the matter?"

Summoning Harry's wand and pocketing it, the old man sat down and stared at the artificial vampire's mismatched eyes. He spared a glance at Rip, but apparently deemed her unimportant, and refocused his icy blue stare on the one the British wizards had taken to call "the Chosen One". Harry merely smirked and returned the stare, and as he expected, he soon felt a Legilimency probe try to enter his mind. He was aware that the infuriating old man wouldn't be able to bear the thought of losing the one he thought was destined to end Voldemort, which was why he had tempted him into looking into his mind. Of course, the moment Dumbledore's probe touched his defenses, he was thrown out with violence and those who were not aware of what had happened tensed as the aged man winced violently.

"T-t-t." he waggled his finger admonishingly, "Bad Dumbledore, no peaking into my mind."

"Okay, I've had enough of the suspense. Dumbledore, what's going on?!" snapped Sirius.

"One moment, Sirius." said the old man, as Harry felt his body lock in place.

-Break-

Dumbledore felt his heart sink at the sight of the angry mismatched eyes glaring at him. One a deep, emerald green, like the ones of Lily Potter, one of the few people able to hold lengthy discussions with him on advanced magical theory, and a witch who had sacrificed herself to protect her son's life. The other eye, a deep crimson, a color he recognized all too well from the eyes of his greatest failure, Tom Marvolo Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort. He had held the faint hope that despite the obvious corruption of Harry's body, his mind would have been protected, but alas, his hopes were for nothing as the soul fragment he was certain had been present in the scar had vanished. Or more exactly, had fused with the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was his fault, he knew. He had wanted Harry to grow up humble, starved for affection, hoping that he could use the Dursleys to keep him grounded, to build the foundations of the martyr the Wizardry World would need. He couldn't have said as such to anyone, of course, not everybody understood the sacrifices the Greater Good required. He had never taken into account the possibility that the soul fragment would actually manage to fuse with its' host, as he had believed, perhaps naively, that the Love that Lily had shown when she had sacrificed her life to save Harry would be enough to keep the piece of soul at bay. Now he was faced with a problem he did not know how to deal with, one that might very well change the fate of Wizardry Britain.

"Dumbledore, what in Merlin's name are you doing?! You better have a good reason for doing this to my godson!"

"Sirius! Sit down!" scowled Molly Weasley, and he felt gratitude for the redhead's intervention. He was still busy trying to think of how he could use this new development in the war against Voldemort. With Harry corrupted, it was unlikely that he would help them, that much was clear, but perhaps there was a way to convince him to lend his help to the Order's cause? He seemed rather close to the young woman next to him, perhaps there was a way of convincing her to aid them, and by proxy, to have Harry help them? It would depend on what had come from the fusion. Did Tom's personality become dominant, or did it blend with Harry's? Was the young man in front of him truly evil, or still treading the line that would make him a Dark Wizard?

Nope, pretty sure I'm evil. By human standards, anyway.

He started in shock, and his eyes darted towards the restrained Harry, who was grinning at him, as if mocking him. Had he just read his mind? It was impossible! He was a master Occlumens, and a master Legilimens, meaning that he knew every trick to know when you wanted to enter another person's mind. This meant that he should have felt any form of intrusion in his mind, yet here Harry had managed to speak to him using solely his mind, and he hadn't felt anything out of order.

"Harry? Were you the one to...?"

The young wizard rolled his eyes.

No, duh, it was the fucking pope! Of course it was me! And to think people call you a genius.

He was about to open his mouth to ask just how Harry was able to do...whatever he was doing, when he was treated to the sight of the Chosen One shrugging off the spell that had bound him as if he was used to do so, after what he waved his hand and released his female friend, before turning back to glare at him.

"Great, now perhaps you can tell me what in the actual fuck you were doing? I mean, I follow these people-" he pointed at the Weasleys-"here, despite them not giving us any explanation on what the Hell they wanted with us other than they knew my parents and that someone wanted to see me, and then you just waltz the fuck in and decide that it'll be fun to immobilize us?! What are you, kidnappers?!"

"Harry, mind your words, young man!" scolded Molly Weasley, and he once again mentally thanked the matriarch for her help. Few ever wanted to step up to her.

He was surprised when Harry sneered at the older woman, and gave her the finger, making Molly look at him in shock, since she was used to get things her way.

"Fuck you, bitch! You fucks have thirty seconds to explain what this shit is about, before we leave!"

He began to panic, though his experience allowed him to hide it. They couldn't afford to lose him! The Prophecy was clear on one thing, and it was that Harry James Potter was the only one able to defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all. If anyone else managed to vanquish him, he would only come later, more powerful than ever, since the Ministry refused to see what was happening. It seemed that at least Harry was not yet completely Dark, as had Voldemort's soul piece completely corrupted him, he doubted that the young man would have been so civil. Instead, it was likely that they would already be fighting for their lives, since Voldemort wouldn't have missed an occasion to take him down.

"Very well." he sighed. He hoped that they had not yet completely antagonized Harry, though considering the look he was giving them, it was clear that the wrong word could very well seal their fates.

-Break-

"So let me get this straight: there's a prophecy saying that I'm the only one able to take down this guy, Volde-whatever? And you want me to stay and help you fight him and his goons?" asked Harry, his face unreadable.

"That is the gist of it." nodded Dumbledore. "I will floo call Minerva, so that you may transfer to Hogwarts for your final year of schooling. We will also have to assign guards to you, as Voldemort will evidently try to kill you once he learns that you have been found. I will also like to talk to you later, in a more private setting, about some important matters, however those can wait.

Now, since you are back in England, I will call the Dursleys, since I am sure they missed you dearly. They were quite distraught when you ran away, though I am disappointed that you would do something so callous as to leave your relatives without leaving them any means to contact you."

The old man was now giving him a frown that one would expect to see on the face of a grandfather scolding their unruly grandchild, and it was what made Harry snap. Screw playing with the Order, he was going to murder them all, starting with the old prick in front of him, who believed that he could scold him when he was responsible for his hellish childhood. He had managed to scan some of his thoughts, and he felt his blood boil when he saw that Dumbledore had been perfectly aware that his childhood at the Dursleys would see him treated like a slave and hated, but also actually wanted what had happened, or at least how the Dursleys had treated him.

"Well," he started, smiling and showing very sharp teeth, "perhaps the reason why they had no way to contact me was because they sold me to a child trafficking ring when I was seven? Or because they had made it perfectly clear by the time that I was five that if I were to die they would celebrate?

That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To have me abused and desperate for affection, so that when I came to your little school, I'd look up to the "Great Albus Dumbledore"? You wanted me to be the perfect little martyr, ready to sacrifice myself for others, didn't you? Well news flash, arschloch, I don't give a flying fuck about your people, in fact I'm tempted to help Voldie kill you off. At least he's upfront with what he does, he doesn't manipulate people for the "Greater Good"!

Did you really think I'd give a fuck about the one who was responsible for making the first seven years of my life a living Hell? Or did you think I'd care about the redheaded slut who's already thinking about what love potion she's going to use to seduce me? Or that I wouldn't want to kill the greedy shit who's planning on using potions to set me up with her daughter so that she can take my gold? Hmmm?"

He smirked as he watched the spluttering redheads trying to deny his accusations, while Dumbledore was frowning, and the others seemed to be staring at those he wanted put on the grill with disgust and disbelief. He felt his grin widen at the negative emotions rolling off from everyone. Anger. Shame. Disgust. He could almost taste them in the air, thanks to the pheromones emitted by their bodies.

Standing up, he was unsurprised to find Dumbledore's wand pointed at him, cold ice blue eyes staring at him disapprovingly and with some anger. Obviously the "Leader of the Light" wasn't used to not getting what he wanted.

"Sit down, Harry. We are not finished."

The old man's voice was cold, and brimmed with power, while he could feel the magic swirling around his aged frame. Too bad for him, Harry wasn't one to listen to those weaker than him, though he guessed that the fact he was the stronger one of the two was something Dumbledore hadn't even considered.

"Oh, but we are." he grinned, just before his hand shot at speeds too fast for a human to notice and grabbed the old man's head, and squeezing it. With a minimum of resistance, Dumbledore's head was crushed like a ripe watermelon, spraying blood and brain matter on those surrounding him. Knowing that the shock wouldn't last long, and unwilling to leave anything to chance, he immediately jumped over the table, landing in front of the large, dark-skinned man, whose hand was already reaching inside his robes for his wand. Grabbing his arm, Harry pulled, tearing it from its' socket, and threw it at a heavily scarred man who had barged inside the room.

Said man ducked under the projectile, his wand already alight with a spell, when he was kicked into the wall by an angry Rip. The older vampire didn't stop there, however, as she took out a Heckler&Koch USP and fire several rounds at point blank range in his head. Blood splattered on the walls as she did so, landing on Ginevra's clothes as well as the redhead opened her mouth to scream. She never uttered a sound, as a conjured dagger lodged itself in her neck, and she slid to the floor, blood flowing from her mouth as she choked on the crimson fluid, her hands brushing against the hilt of the dagger in the hopes of removing it, but the pain stopping her from moving it.

While the girl was choking on her own blood, he rushed Molly Weasley. With two swift kicks, her knees were shattered and she fell on the floor screaming in pain. Two stomps and her hands and fingers were broken as well, while he went for his next target, each of his movements as fluid as a dancer's, graceful and flowing, despite the sheer brutality he was showing.

These guys really aren't worth a damn...

-Break-

"Well, that was messy, right Rip?" commented Harry, standing in the middle of a puddle of blood, corpses and body parts scattered everywhere around him. Apparently one of the members of the Order had thought that it was a good idea to call for help using some enchanted pendant, which meant that they didn't even have to look for the missing members, since they had almost all Apparated in as soon as they could, with the exception of Severus Snape, since he was currently at a Death Eater meeting. They didn't even need to kill the man, all they would need was to send a message to Voldemort stating that he had been a double spy, and the Dark Lord would deal with him. And even if he didn't, what could the man possibly do? He had no way of knowing what had happened, and as such no way to warn Hellsing of the existence of Millennium.

"MMMm..."nodded the Millennium officer, who was happily gorging herself on the blood of Ginevra Weasley. She had already drained the girl's older brother dry, as well as a strange purple-haired young woman whose appearance had shifted several times during the fight. "That was easy!" she chirped, as the redhead's corpse fell on the ground with a dull "thud".

"Not surprising, these guys are complete wimps. The only ones worth a damn were Dumblefuck, that bald guy, and the one with the weird, twisting eye. The others clearly didn't have any experience in a war. I mean, who the Hell freezes just because of some blood?"

"Who cares?" grinned Rip, "Mission accomplished!"

"Actually, we're almost done. There's something I've being wanting to do for a long while, so we'll have to wait a bit more before going home." he grinned.

"Really?" asked Rip, cocking her head to the side. "What is it?"

His grin widened, showing very sharp teeth.

-Break-

Cornelius Fudge was not having a good day. In fact, ever since that fool Dumbledore had publicly announced that You-Know-Who had come back, he hadn't gotten a single good day. Honestly, how could the people believe something as outrageous? There was no proof whatsoever that what the senile old man had said was true. So what if some Muggleborns and Half-Bloods families had disappeared? It was obvious that they had dabbed in the Dark Arts and had gotten themselves killed because of their ignorance. To say that it was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's fault was ludicrous, treasonous! If He had come back, the Ministry would have know about it, after all only the finest wizards and witches in the country could work there, all of them from respectable Pureblood families. Such an event wouldn't go unnoticed by them, and those saying that they were Death Eaters were obviously lying.

As he took out a bottle of scotch, his third this month, he was startled when a large tremor shook his office, making his furniture rattle and some books fall on the ground, while some of the pictures hanging on the walls fell, causing their inhabitants to scream in protest. Fortunately, the tremor was quick to stop, and he righted himself, before immediately striding out of his office to ask his secretary what was happening. However, just as he opened his mouth to ask why he was being bothered by a tremor, another quake shook the building, far more violent than the first, and unlike before, it did not stop, as other tremors sent Fudge to his knees, while faint screams could be heard, coming from the other side of the door.

Cursing, he tried to get up, but was sent flying when the wall exploded in a torrent of fire and debris, riddling him with holes as the floor above his office collapsed on him, squashing him like a bug.

-Break-

Harry and Rip grinned as they watched the Ministry of Magic collapse, flames devouring it as Ministry workers screamed and ran around like headless chickens. The funniest part of it all was that the fire wasn't even some magical fire, which meant that had the idiots tried to take it out with simple water spells, like Aguamenti, they would have snuffed the fire before it could even spread too far. Unfortunately for them, they were so used to be told what to do, and the attack had been so sudden, that they had absolutely no idea of what to do. The fact that they didn't even know what explosives were meant that they also had no clue as to what had caused the explosions that had rocked the Ministry, and knowing the bigoted nature of the British magical population, it was likely that they would blame the attack on some form of new spell or potion created by the Unspeakables that would have gone wrong. That is unless someone with an actual brain and some common sense became the new Minister, but from what little he knew, it was unlikely.

Anyway, he had to admit that causing so much chaos had been disappointingly easy, since all he had needed to do was hypnotize the guard to let them in, place a few dozen C4 charges here and there, and waltz out unimpeded. The building wasn't even reinforced with magic, which meant that it had collapsed like a castle of cards blown by a strong wind. Considering that it was the busiest hour of the day, odds were that the casualties would be in the hundreds, though the chaos was really all he had been after. The Ministry hadn't even bothered to check on him, their national hero, in seventeen years, and worse, they had begun asking for him to be returned to Britain at the ICW, should he be a citizen of one of the countries present. The way the British representative had said so made it clear that Harry was not a person to the British wizards, but a commodity, something to be treated however they saw fit, with no regards for his human rights.

Only time will tell if this wake-up call manages to get their heads out of their asses...

While Harry was aware that he was by all means a monster, an abomination, he was fine with it. He cared little if people called him a heartless monster, as the babblings of idiotic fools were something he no longer cared about. However, there was a desire in his heart, perhaps a childish one, but a desire nonetheless, that had been born from his wicked existence. He had seen the evil in mankind, a family that would treat one of their own like a monster because of something he had no control over, people that abducted children and raped them, trained them to be sex slaves because it would earn them money, but never in his existence had he met someone that would represent the other end of the spectrum. If he was the worst, then who would embody the best? If he was evil, who was good? If he was the Monster, who would be the Hero embodying the very best of mankind? He wanted to see, he wanted to meet a person like that, one that would be his polar opposite. However, a sad truth was that mankind seldom birthed people deserving such a title, and even then, only after living through Hell and fighting for their lives could they truly be called Heroes. People who did good existed, but they hardly suffered, their resolve to do good was hardly tested. True heroes were those who had lived through Hell, who had suffered, cried, bled, but had refused to shed their humanity to become monsters, they clung to it, and instead of drowning themselves in evil, and living only for their sake, stood tall and proud, helped others overcome their own hardships.

Perhaps he wouldn't meet such a person anytime soon, but he had all the time in the world. It wasn't as if he planned to die anytime soon anyway. But for now, he'd continue living his life as he saw fit.

Turning to look at Rip, he cracked his neck.

"Time to go home. What do you say about a snack and some fun in bed before then?"