AN: This is my first story, so please add the constructive criticism.

Also note that this story is really inspired by Deprived, so the first few chapter will be similar, however, there will be big changes to come.

Note that Harry Potter is owned by J.K Rowling, not me.

(Ares P.O.V.)

Ares walked up to the Delacour manor, his emerald eyes flickering across the scenery. He saw the manor itself, a grand building made presumably from limestone, if the colour of the building was anything to go by. There were acres of lush land, coated by the shimmering sunset of La Rochelle. He absent-mindedly twirled his wand, before giving a quick wave over his head and sheathing it into his wand holster. His medium length jet black tousled hair immediately changed to butter blonde, his nose ever so slightly more pointed, his cheekbones lowered ever so slightly. He walked up to the grand, ornate door of the mansion ready for another job.

(Alain P.O.V.)

Alain Delacour was in rapt attention, that attention directed towards a certain butter blonde man who looked no older than seventeen. He could feel himself freeze in the inside as he looked at his guest, whose face bore no emotion. He thought he could see a very faint trace of what appeared to be a lightning bolt concealed by a fringe. His guest's eyes had a dancing emerald flame flickering, which only served to completely freeze Alain.

Finally finding his bearings, The French Minister of Magic cleared his throat quietly before speaking.

"Well, you know why you're here, don't you?"

The young man nodded, not faltering from his inscrutable gaze. Alain felt brave and kept his gaze. This person was near the same age as his eldest daughter and yet he looked devoid of innocence.

"As you know, a few months ago, I was elected as the Minister of Magic. I'm married to a half-Veela, so I'm quite hated by the blood-purists in the Parlement Magique. They hate me as they think of veela as atrocities and view my wife as a half-breed, and as such think that I am their number one enemy as I am in a position of power to aid people who the blood purists deem inhuman. Thankfully, the people of France are not stupid bigots, and the blood-purists cannot harm me politically."

Alain looked at the man seated in front of him. He still had an empty face, but Alain could tell that the man in front of him has already comprehended the information given, after all, Alain himself has used that mask multiple times as a politician.

"3 days ago, a crew of bounty hunters were sent to assassinate my family. Fortunately, my wife and daughters were out at the Place Cachée. On a darker note, 5 of my finest aurors and a few house elves were killed. The blood-purists only have a small influence in the ministry, but they are all powerful people who hail from influential families and such have powerful connections. I'm certain that it was them who sent the assassination squad, no matter how many times they deny it."

"And I'm here to protect them?" the young man said. Alain shivered at the young man's tone, as cold as his demeanour.

"Yes, but more specifically, my eldest daughter," replied Alain. "Do you know of the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I do," replied the young man. "The tournament has a notorious history and was discontinued after 1729 after multiple spectators were killed by a wild cockatrice. I presume it's restarted."

"Yes, and my daughter intends to go to Hogwarts in the hopes that she competes, or at least spectates it." Alain said. "I have more than necessary protection here in France but that won't stretch to England if my daughter goes for the Triwizard tournament."

"Then stop her. Convince her not to go."

Alain sighed and gave a faint smile at his guest's suggestion.

"My daughter has quite the temper and is very stubborn. She's like her mother in that regard, perhaps even more so."

Alain thought and guessed correctly that his guest's silence meant that he should get down to business.

"Very well, then," Alain started tensely, "I have seen your credentials Ares and I must say that I am dazzled by the fact that you have not only never failed your job, but you have also defeated many infamous criminals known for their extensive use of the Dark Arts, though I don't understand how a mere seventeen-year-old, just emancipated, can take down some of the most dangerous criminals of this modern era"

"They stood no chance."

Alain awaited with bated breath for more but could tell that Ares did not want to continue and the stare that Ares was giving him indicated to him that he should move on.

"Very well," Alain replied, unnerved by the cold stare that he got. "I think of myself as someone who prides in family, and am capable of protecting my family, but the blood-purists have quite a few allies across La Manche.

"I've had the misfortune of dealing with some of them before," came the apathetic reply.

"So, you know of the atrocities that those uptight bigots do?"

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Ares with a lining of loathing.

Alain knew he had to phrase the next words right, for the wrong words might just end his chances of hiring the king of mercenaries.

"I hope, then, that we could come up with a contract. Any money shall come from my own personal vaults. But before then, I must ask you one question."

"Go ahead."

"What are your intentions in accepting this contract?"

"To guard."

"What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"To fortify."

"And your intentions should she be in any harm."

The green orbs with the flickering flame turned into a green inferno. "To kill."

"Then it seems the deal is done."