A/N: A great big hello to everyone! Hope you're all doing well and that everything in your life is improving, now that most places are lifting lockdowns – if your location isn't, then my apologies and I wish you the best.

To the new people who have boarded the story, pleasure to meet you! I'm enjoying making this crossover as it allows me to imagine fun interactions between Harry and others, which is even better because my job is so BORING I could do it asleep. Anyway, let us know what you think either in PM or in review and I'll do my best to respond at the start or end of each Chapter.

PRIMUS

Chapter 8

The First Step

Riddle Manor was once a place that could only be described as breathtaking. The people who lived there were to call this place home, as the building and its grounds outshone all neighboring districts. The not-so-modest abode required numerous groundskeepers to manage the sprawling gardens, arches and pathways that stretched across the land owned by the Riddles – who insisted on constantly throwing lavish dinners and balls for the surrounding areas to partake in.

Now, it was a ghost estate.

The land and its once-prized nature had withered, it's sculptures and other features decayed so badly that the entire area gave of an aura that closely resembled that of a mausoleum. To the great Lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters however, it was a perfect hideout that none dared to approach.

Well, more along the lines of Voldemort, his snake, a psychopath, and a miserable little runt of a wretched traitor, that is.

"Pettigrew," came Voldemort's silky whisper, "what have you heard from the Ministry?"

The fat rodent-like man bowed so low he hit his head off of Voldemort's chair and squeaked in surprise, hastening his answer of "Only that the Goblet has been moved my Lord, we were successful in enchanting it to select one more participant."

Voldemort restrained himself from blinking in surprise… Pettigrew was usually an incredibly incompetent agent in the field, far better to spy with than actually do any work. 'Must have been a good day for him,' Voldemort mused, 'He did gloat about finding some great cheese when he arrived back at the Manor.'

Realising that Pettigrew was still quivering all over the floor, Voldemort cackled an evil laugh – that quickly became a cough – before deeming it worthy enough of a "excellent job, Pettigrew."

He did have to wrinkle his baby-faced nose in disgust though, especially when he realised Pettigrew began to look like he'd peed from the strain of bowing for such a long time.

Location: Sector 0115930774

Planet: Stavrrax Minoris

Intel: Planet designated as 'Stavrrax Minoris' has recently seen a large surge in both Heretic and Xenos activity. Multiple Companies have been deployed around the globe, with orders to purge and protect key sites that our Emperor has deemed valuable. (21/08/40,003)

UPDATE: The surge has increased exponentially, most Companies have collapsed or faced total annihilation from constant Heretic and Xenos assaults. Each site was successfully detonated in the final stage of defense – Companies deployed in those locations have been added to the battle reports, alongside calculations of losses and strategic appraisals of our remaining forces.

Currently, a Company of Neophytes is withstanding against a swarm of Xenos – the Captain has ordered the Neophyte force to stand ground at all costs.

Stavrrax Minoris had once been a beautiful planet, one that had been left relatively untouched by the demands of the Imperial Tithe, sprawling with fields and rustic towns – the occasional Hive City making itself known through the non-stop belching of smoke coming from Factory stacks. Its people had never really known strife, more concerned with the enormous task of providing resources to the Empire than meeting demand for War-vehicles, Armour and Ammunition. As such, Stavrrax only hosted a smallish number of Imperial Guards, whose main task involved the protection of the Emperor's temple and patrolling the surrounding areas.

So you can imagine the small population of Ra'tacha's surprise, with their mounting terror, at the sight of several gang's worth of Xenos pillaging a village off in the distance. The fear and horror immediately caused them to request aid from the guards the Emperor had bestowed upon them, only to be forced into defending their homes when the squabbling Orks hit their village next.

Upon arriving at the village that was now heaving with simultaneous cries of death and joy, the Guard Captain ordered his troops to surround the Temple in a defensive perimeter. For several hundred years, the temple had been home to a manuscript that detailed the rituals needed in order to keep the Machine Spirits in good health and gaze upon the Imperium favorably. This one script was the only one around for light years, all others having been destroyed throughout the Horus Heresy.

Unfortunately, the Emperor was not smiling upon the small contingent of Guards that day – they perished in the first wave of the Orks, who had burned down the Emperor's Holy Temple and thrown all that was within into the grounds surrounding the building.

It was here that one Neophyte, a Hadrian "The Demon" Potter could be found – picking through the remnants of his Emperor's Holy Temple and cursing the filthy Xenos known as Orks.

It was here that Hadrian found himself in his first encounter with the Orks, who had somehow used their semi-intelligent brains to recognize the texts as vital to the Imperium and so chose to set up an ambush. A feat of such amazement to the Neophytes, that they were now being slaughtered by the Greenskins.

"Fuck!" Hadrian shouted as a war-axe bit into his upper shoulder, the following tug of the blade wrenching free throwing him into the air. He landed with a roll, groaning all the while, before standing and cursing once more as he realised he was now behind Ork lines.

Their bodies stood stall, visible slabs of muscle rolling and stretching across their bulk – hinting at the pure brute strength they possessed. These Orks had been alive for a while, their constant fighting and winning meant that they were the best and they knew it. It could be seen with the way they walked, their postures and the measured, careful method of both holding and using their weapons while fighting and moving. A scholar could spend a lifetime studying these Xenos filth, yet their research would provide little help to the Imperium in discovering just why they evolved in such a manner.

Fortunately, Hadrian was not a scholar. Instead he was a warrior, one who had studied the Ork physiology alongside its mentality and Hierarchy. As a result, Hadrian consciously forced his powers into making grow taller and broader, striding towards the Ork Chief as he did so. Such was the Orks' fervor for battle and blood, they never noticed the now eleven-foot human walking amongst them until it was far too late…

Hadrian's knife pierced the Chief's skin and drove further down into its shoulder, missing the Ork's neck as it shifted at the very last moment. He cursed once more as he was forcibly dragged in a half circle before being flung backwards onto the floor. Once again he rose to his feet, watching warily as the Chief laughed openly at him.

"Looks boys! It's a pathetic Humie, ere to offer his head in surrender!" All around, the Orks began to jeer and laugh, milling their axes around their heads in a cheerful manner. "I appreciating the offer Humie, but your head seems a bit too dumb for me stik, so I iz gonna use yours as squiggoth bait." The Ork Chief snorted and began to turn, only to whirl around upon hearing the humie respond.

"I would not assume that your safety is guaranteed Ork scum, for you endanger citizens of the Imperium. We shall fight to the tooth and nail to expunge you from this planet's surface. Lest we fail, then more and more of us shall arrive, till you become nothing but dust at our feet." Hadrian took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, his eyes glinting in the low light of a setting sun. "The Emperor protects, he strikes, and he shall guide as make the Imperium strong once more."

"Enough Humie!" The Ork roared, obviously impatient to crack some heads, "Time to die!"

The pair lunged at each other, Hadrian grunting as the Ork's power-claw wrapped around his arm as he ripped his knife free from its shoulder. The ensuing grapple should have instantly allowed the Ork Chief to claim victory over his opponent, yet Hadrian still stood before him with his wounded arm and shoulder slowly healing over before their very eyes. The Ork studied the Humie slightly, before opening its maw and uttering a single word.

"War-Spittah" the Ork growled out, announcing its respect to the fellow Orks that had formed a circle around the duo. The group shifted as one, for War-Spittah had never bestowed its name upon a Humie before, generally due to the belief that Humies were too pathetic to even deserve to know the name of their doom.

"Hadrian" came the Humies response, recognizing just what had been announced to the Xenos surrounding him.

The brief lull in fighting came to a close, as the two warriors clashed once more. Again and again Hadrian's knife sliced open shallow cuts upon the Orks skin, ignorant of the jeering the Orks surrounding him kept offering. The single goal of spreading uncertainty through the enemy force drove him onwards, for a warband without a leader was chaos, essentially allowing them to destroy the Orks from within. Hadrian attacked high and low, swiping at everything he could reach. With each swipe he appeared to become more and more exhausted, until he swayed upon the spot after another ten minutes of receiving a mauling so fierce that he'd gained even more respect from War-Spittah. As War-Spittah drew himself up to full height, his body leaking almost black-like fluid, looming over Hadrian as he lifted his power-claw to deliver the final blow. The Orks all cheered and chanted, ecstatic in the knowledge that their chieftain had no equal – many had begun to turn away, for they believed the fight to be over.

T'was a shame they looked elsewhere, for they would have sworn that Hadrian was a blur. A blur of movement so fast that the only registerable thing was War-Spittah's head snapping backwards as though hit by a freight train. The following blood spray drenched those before him, as Hadrian had vaulted onto his back and gripped the Ork by his nose and pulled, using his body weight and momentum to the slash further open. After some serious hauling, accompanied by sickening squelches and minor Ork wailing, Hadrian achieved a feat that most Neophytes couldn't even dream of boasting about.

The head of War-Spittah came clean off – the muscle and sinew giving way to Hadrian's pressure.

An unstoppable force had bore down upon an immovable object, only to break when the object revealed that it could indeed fight back.

All was quiet for a few moments, save for the sounds of Orks gleefully bashing away at Humies surrounding the burnt-out Temple. Then, noise roared back to life, as the Orks began to squabble and bicker amongst themselves, each vying for the position of Chieftain now that it had become available. Hadrian could only watch as the Orks rendered limb from limb, axes being hammered into heads as though arriving home, teeth being snatched up faster than a Tech-priest could hoover up a script of technology. The brawl continued as he began strolling his way back towards the Temple.

Strangely, an Ork actually thanked him for striking down its opponent. Hadrian could only process what just happened for a few seconds before his knife flashed and the incredibly polite Ork fell backwards – albeit with a permanent hole in the side of its head.

Oddly, it didn't seem so enthusiastic about that one.

Continuing on his path through the bickering Orks, Hadrian took the opportunity to lop off several arms and legs, even swiping away at some heads occasionally as he walked past. Eventually the Orks rallied around a new leader, who quickly had them rejoin the fray in a wave of pure fury. Green-flesh descended upon the already dwindled Neophytes as a wave of vengeance, uncaring of the gunfire and sword-strokes that cut them down, rolling over the defensive lines and embroiling them all in a one-sided form of a free for all.

Several battle-brothers fell quickly, succumbing to the madness of the Black Rage and the Ork onslaught. Hadrian sighed as he cursed the luck of the Lamenter chapter once more, flinching slightly as another battle-brother was dragged from his side, yet the man remained persistent to the end – striking at anything he could reach, his axe and knife hacking away at the Orks who'd originally tackled him. More Orks threw themselves at him, only to be struck down as his rage grew.

"The Emperor shall have this world, be it alive or shattered under the might of his fury!" The man screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared in unfiltered fury. "Die, you filthy maggots, feel the bite of my blade!"

Hadrian turned away as the man sprinted into a throng of Orks, whom were all shouting with joy as he approached them. For a few glorious seconds, all that could be heard was their cries of shock as his attacks went unimpeded – lives being cut short as he chopped and hacked, laughing manically all the while. Eventually the Orks grew used to his fighting style and adapted on the fly, deciding that swarming him from all angles was the safest approach. He finally dropped to the ground under a pile of bodies, still screaming with rage only to fall silent as his head caved in from the blow of an axe.

Soon the area positively teemed with Orks, their muscular forms merrily tearing away at the defenses around the destroyed temple. Hadrian performed a quick calculation in his head while he fought, continuing unflinchingly once he'd reached the conclusion of their inevitable doom. A Neophyte could probably kill between three to four Orks before being killed, when taking into account that they only had sixty men remaining and what appeared hundreds of Orks… Hadrian would be damned if he didn't make his Emperor proud.

"Fight for the founder! Fight as though the Emperor himself was here!" came a cry from the temple, as a Neophyte was dragged away from the line, his arms and a leg all but removed from his body.

A large "Hah!" resonated from the remaining Neophyte force, many surging forward to push into the center of the Ork mob. Their shouts of "Emperor protect us, guide our strokes so they may strike fear into the hearts of the scum we face" could be heard over the din of battle, further boldening the soldiers who remained on the fringes. For a while, the only noises to be heard were the sounds of blades clashing, screams and roars, gunshots, and pleas of denial as the Neophyte company fought valiantly onwards.

Several hours passed, the sun setting over what had become a battlefield of grotesque proportions. The temple was now far off into the distance, the Neophyte's having to fall back to more defensive locations with each wave of Orks that crashed down upon them. Both groups appraised each other during a lull in the fighting, each race attempting to regain their energy for one more attack.

Hadrian gulped in air as fast as his lungs would allow, fully aware that an Orks patience lasted for mere seconds. The Orks had begun to move, loping towards them at a slow pace, fully savouring the knowledge that once again they had performed a Waagh against the Humies and won. Several Orks had regained their desire for violence, shouting "Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go" as they charged towards the significantly smaller group of Humies. Hadrian braced himself as the first wave of Orks descended upon them, their axes hacking and guns blasting away at his fellow man. Again the glory of battle began to make itself known, with many of Hadrian's remaining company choosing to bellow prayers to the Emperor in their time of need.

Hadrian however, merely opted to press forward after remembering his beacon. After cutting his way through several Orks, the beacon was removed, activated, and launched as far into the Ork mass as he could manage to throw it. Smoke curled upwards from the ground, setting the field into a blue-ish hue as the Orks simply ignored the small device.

Up in the planet's orbit, a Strike Cruiser's sirens blared as two pods lined up their trajectory to the beacon's location. Both pods had the honour of carrying the might of a terminator and marine squad, transporting them to an area of battle in order to carry out the Emperor's work. Five large metal prongs hissed as they detached from the pods' exterior, followed by the low roar of engines beginning to increase their thrust as the pods dropped towards their target. Each pod's onboard nav-computer plotted out a course through the meteorites that hung around the planet, it's smaller thrusters hissing and popping as maneuvers were performed in an attempt to avoid any collisions with the rocks.

Almost two seconds later, a large screaming could be heard as Hadrian gazed skywards, his eyes closing slightly in thanks to the Emperor.

Some Orks were instantly turned into red paste as the pods slammed down onto their heads, several Orks nearby squawking in horror as the doors blasted outwards – immediately followed by bolter rounds as Space Marines poured out of the doors.

"Space Marines, attack!" They roared as one, their precise and calm shots blasting away any Ork that got too close. One Marine approached Hadrian while the rest chased after the now fleeing Orks, coming to a halt just before him.

"You have the script?" The marine asked, his head ducking slightly as he looked down at the smaller human.

"Indeed" Hadrian responded as he grew to the same height, handing over the scroll without a moment's hesitation. "I advise you get a transport down here to remove it from surface immediately. The Orks originated from that stretch of forest over yonder" he continued, pointing towards a clump of trees that jutted out just before what appeared to be an overgrown forest.

"Understood." The Marine replied in his metallic voice, "The Captain wishes to see you. You will escort the Script to the Strike Cruiser, let no heretic or Xenos filth lay their eyes upon it's holy text."

Hadrian blinked once before replying slowly, "Acknowledged."

Watching the Marine hurry after his compatriots, Hadrian could only ponder as to why he was wanted above surface. His fighting skills would be more useful on the ground, a promotion from Neophyte to Vanguard was practically impossible from one battle. Perhaps the Captain wanted an appraisal of their chances against the Ork scum? Shrugging, Hadrian dropped the issue as he boarded the transport that had just landed before him.

He'd find out soon enough.

A/N: And there we have it, 3000 words dedicated purely to Harry's first battle as a soldier of the Imperium! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always – let me know what you think.

Once again, apologies for the lack of updates – I've been finding it difficult to actually sit down and work on this story as work both physically and mentally drains me, but I'm in a creative mood at the moment so it should be fun…or not, who knows? :P

Hope to catch you all soon, Ciao!

English Dragon