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Kabuto S. Inferno: Thank you. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story so far. I found your review to be analytically polite, and thank you for pointing out that mistake, I'll have to go back and edit it again. And as for the magical influx part, I do have a brief mention of it in this chapter.

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Sounds of steel clashing against each other filled the courtyard of the barracks. Different members of the Band of Hawk had taken to sparring with one another to keep their skills as sharp as their blades, and Harry found himself being one of them. True to his word, the blacksmith had forged a short sword and breastplate for him within the week. He was told it was nothing special, but Harry didn't mind; they were the closest things to gifts he had ever received. Dudley could probably only wish to have a sword of his own one day.

The armor felt a bit snug under his armpits, but Casca had told him that all new armor felt that way and that he just had to break it in as best he could. The sword however, was a much different feeling. Mainly it was much heavier than he was expecting it to be. To compensate for that fact, Harry found it easier to grip the hilt with both hands; it was much easier to swing around that way. But not easy enough to the point where he was able to get a hit on his opponent.

Judeau was armed with a basic sword as well and was blocking and parrying all of his attacks seemingly without flaw. Going for an almighty attack, Harry lifted the sword above his head, ready to knock the blade from Judeau's hand. As he charged his opponent, Judeau sidestepped the attack, and stuck his foot out in Harry's path. As expected, he tripped.

Groaning slightly, Harry pushed himself back up and was met with the sight of Judeau offering him a hand. He took it. "You alright?" Judeau asked, once Harry was back on his feet.

"Yeah, I think," Harry answered, rubbing a sore spot by his chin. "I didn't know tripping was allowed though."

"I never said it wasn't," Judeau countered. "Your opponent won't always play fair, remember that."

Harry nodded. "I will. And thank you, for training me. You're really good."

"Hm, I suppose," Judeau admitted. "But swordplay isn't really my forte. I'm more of knives guy." He patted his bandolier for emphasis. "If you want to see real swordplay, just watch Guts in action."

A scornful "Tch!" cut its way into their conversation. Leaning against a wall, watching them practice was Corkus.

"Something to add, Corkus?" Judeau asked.

""Real Swordplay?" Corkus parroted. "That big idiot?" He scoffed again. "Please, he has muscle and a large sword, but that doesn't mean he's the best. Griffith can cut down just as many men as him, and do it in a more graceful way." Corkus looked directly at Harry. "Speed over size any day. And swords will only get you so far. What happens if someone's shooting at you, huh? I'll show you. Hey, Rickert! Bring me a crossbow!"

Running from across the courtyard, Rickert obeyed without hesitation. Corkus took the weapon and pointed it towards two other Hawks sparring with each other. "Hey! Unless you want to be target practice, move out of the way!" Corkus shouted to them. They quickly stepped aside so Corkus had a clear shot at the target behind them.

"Watch and learn," Corkus smirked as he fired the bolt. It struck true, hitting just an inch from the center target. "Not bad right?!" Corkus boasted with a wiry smile. "If the sun wasn't in my eyes I would have nailed that bull's-eye. A quick look at the sky showed that the sun was in fact behind him.

"Uh…," Harry began, but Rickert was quick to whisper in his ear.

"Please, let him have this. He'll be in a mood the rest of the day if you do. He just likes showing off to the new additions."

Corkus continued to boast. "When's the last time you've seen that idiot do something like that?"

"I can't say that I have," Judeau admitted. "But why not ask him to give a demonstration?"

"Eh?" Corkus seemed confused. "Don't bother. He's off brooding somewhere. Let him be." Corkus gave a small nudge of his head to the battlements of the courtyard. Sure enough, Guts was up there sitting down with his sword resting next to him as he looked out to the city beyond.

"Why is he up there alone?" Harry asked.

"He has his reasons I'm sure," Judeau answered. "Guts has never really been a social type of person. Then again, he doesn't really need to be to do what he does."

"Do you think he could offer me advice then?" Harry asked. If Guts was as good a swordsman as they said then he would know how to make him better, right?

"Well… it's like I said, Guts isn't really a social type of person," informed Judeau. "He takes things at his own pace, always has."

"So, I shouldn't ask?"

Judeau shrugged. "You can. Just don't expect him to agree."

Harry cast another look towards the brooding Guts, and to his own sword. Swallowing a lump in his throat he wasn't aware of, Harry steeled his resolve and began walking up to the more experienced swordsman. As he climbed the steps to the battlements, he cast a look over his shoulder to see Corkus muttering to himself, and Rickert giving him an encouraging kind of nod.

Seeing his approach from his peripheral vision, Guts turned his head to address Harry. "What is it?" Guts asked, it didn't sound harsh but it wasn't exactly welcoming either.

"Well, I was just talking with Judeau, and he said that you're really good at swordplay," Harry explained.

"And?" Guts asked again.

"I was just wondering… if there were any tips you could tell me." Harry said, trying to not sound hesitant.

Guts stared at him and the sword in his hand. "You were talking to Judeau, right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Talk to him again. He might not use a sword all the time, but he knows a bunch of tricks."

"Oh." Harry slouched a little at the response. "He kind of told me the same thing. That's why I wanted to ask you."

Guts stared at him for a moment before turning his gaze back out to the city once more; seemingly ending the conversation. Harry took that as his cue to leave when he heard, "Your sword." He turned to see Guts, still leaning against the battlements in a sitting position, but now he was holding his hand out. "Let me see it."

Placing the sword in Guts' outstretched hand, Harry watched as Guts rotated his wrist a few times to get a proper feel for the blade, as well as slashing it through the air a few times. "Catch," Guts ordered as he suddenly tossed it back to Harry, who much to his own surprise caught it by the hilt without fumbling. Maybe he just had good reflexes when it came to catching.

"It has good balance," Guts simply told him. "It's not about to cut a man in half, but it'll do its job alright." Harry was fine with that. He had no desire to cut someone in half.

"Just keep practicing with it. Try using one hand."

"But its heavy," Harry lightly complained.

"Exactly," Guts said. "Using one hand will build up muscle. You won't cut it with that skinny frame."

Harry looked at his own build and then to the muscled frame of Guts. There was a clear distinction to be sure. "Thank you," Harry told the swordsman.

Guts still stared out over the battlements, seemingly in his own little world. "Sure."

Hogwarts, Headmasters Office

"Do you understand the situation?" Dumbledore asked the man who stood before his desk. The man's magical blue eye swiveled around in its socket before fixing Dumbledore with its gaze.

"I understand what you've told me," Moody answered. "Can't say that I can make head or tails of it though."

"I was afraid you might say that," Dumbledore lamented.

Moody huffed to himself, his eye returning to swivel around in its socket. "So who else knows?"

"Only Minerva and Severus. I did not want to cause a panic amongst the rest of the Order."

"Aye, but it they'll find out soon enough. And not just members of our little organization either."

Dumbledore knew exactly what Moody was referring to, the day Harry Potter would attend Hogwarts. Being the son of two former Hogwarts students, as well as being hailed as the one to defeat Voldemort, Harry Potter attending Hogwarts was an absolute in the minds of the entire Wizarding Britain. The social repercussions for him not would be… well, Skeeter would be having a field day.

"Indeed they will," Dumbledore agreed.

"Have you thought about what you're going to tell them? Saying he decided to go to another school, or just deciding to not attend Hogwarts aren't you're best options."

"I hadn't planned on it," Dumbledore informed. "You know Cornelius, he'd be contacting every magical school on the globe to try and confirm that statement. He might actually go as far as to pay a visit to the boy's relatives."

"What about the Hogwarts ledger?" Moody questioned. "Shouldn't that show his exact whereabouts?"

Sighing, Dumbledore cast a silent summoning charm, and the ledger landed neatly on his desk. He pointed with his wand tip to Harry's name.

Harry James Potter

Status: Registered

Location: ?

"It has not been of much use."

"And that's where I come in, right?" Moody asked, his magical eye fixed on the headmaster once more.

"You're the best at what you do, Alastor. You have connections within the ministry that can prove useful in our search."

"I used to," Moody corrected. "I'm retired, in case you'd forgotten."

"I haven't. But I know it's in your nature to keep up on the current happenings of things. Even through unconventional means. You still have your old invisibility cloak?"

"Aye, but I don't exactly plan on strolling into the Department of Mysteries with it. Some of the unspeakable are wise to that sort of thing. Any leads you have now would be welcome."

Dumbledore nodded. "I have already gone over the theory I shared with my two professors, the one pertaining to Merlin."

"You have, but even you admit it's only a theory. Where would I even start looking? The boy disappeared on Halloween; the next biggest day in terms of magical energy would be either the summer or winter solstice."

"Then perhaps a site that frequented by Merlin himself," Dumbledore suggested, further playing off of his theory. "One of the most magical places on Earth: Stonehenge."

It was around Midday when The Band of Hawk rode out from Windham once more. Griffith led the way through the streets and the band followed in suit. Harry only caught glimpses of him from the back of the wagon along with Rickert of course, but he was hard to miss. They were being dispatched to a village to the southwest. Scouts had reported that Chuder forces had been spotted nearby.

With time to spare before they were to arrive at the village, Harry took that time to ask Rickert exactly what was going on with this war. The blonde boy looked at him like he was crazy. "Have you been living under a rock?" Rickert asked. "Everyone knows about the war. It's been going on for the last one hundred years."

"Well, I know that," Harry said, even though he didn't. "I just wanted to know, why is it going on?"

"Chuder is a neighboring empire," Rickert explained. "They're really focused on their army and invaded Midland so they could expand."

"And now we're going up against them," Harry stated.

"Just a group of them," Rickert informed. "And we probably won't do any real fighting anyway."

Harry just silently nodded at Rickert's words as the band moved along through the fields of Midland towards their destination.

It was just around nightfall when the Hawks rode up upon the village. They overlooked the settlements from a small hill, and saw that it seemed completely dark; no torches were lit save for the ones that were being held by Casca and her men as they reported back to Griffith.

"The place was completely deserted," she reported.

"Were there any signs of a fight?" Griffith asked.

"No, the villagers must have all cleared out." Casca pointed to a plateau not too far from the settlements. "My guess is they fled to the top as an evacuation of sorts. The people in my village practiced something similar."

"Makes sense," Guts concurred. "Peasants and farmers aren't the fighting types. Better to run than risk their hides."

"Hm," Griffith mulled the information over. "Have Judeau and Pippin take some men to search that plateau for the villagers. Corkus will scout the area for Chuder forces."

The order was given, and the band split into their designated groups and rode off. Guts and his men waited for the next order to be given, same with Casca and her troops.

"Anxious?" Griffith asked him.

"It's just another fight," Guts replied. "We're probably over prepared for this anyway."

"Perhaps you're right," Griffith partially agreed. "But it's best to always be prepared for the worst, isn't it?"

"Sure," Guts agreed, putting his helm on.

Hooves trampled the ground, and Corkus came riding back to deliver his report. "Griffith, they're here alright. My boys and I found where they're camping out."

"Where?"

"'Bout a mile or so north of here."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Griffith turned once more to Guts. "Take your raiders and strike first. Casca and I will hit them from the side to box them in."

Guts faced his men. "Alright, you heard him!" Drawing his sword Guts led the charge. Their horses moving quickly across the grass beneath them as they headed north to the enemy encampment.

Sure enough, Guts was able to spot the flickering of flames in the near distance; Chuder forces were indeed here. And by the look of it, not that many. If Guts had to take a guess, he'd say maybe a little less than two hundred. There was no way they'd be able to stand against the attack that was coming their way.

Leading his raiders around the left flank of the encampment, Guts easily cut down one of their sentries before he had a chance to raise his crossbow. They stormed their way into the center of the camp and quickly rode to cut down the biggest threat, the crossbowman.

As more of Chuder's soldiers were being cut down, more began to emerge from the tents, some even lacking parts of their armor as they scrambled to try and repel the sudden attack. This, however, made it that much more easy for Guts to cut them down where they stood. His sword could cut through armor if he put enough force behind his swings, and these hastily dressed soldiers were no exception.

His sword cleaved men in half as fast as he was able to swing it. Many a man chose to simply retreat rather than fall victim like many of their comrades. Guts continued to swing his sword like a mad whirlwind until-

Clang!

A man riding a horse, clearly the leader, and wielding a very large war hammer blocked his blade with the staff of his weapon. He probably stood a foot taller than Guts had they been on equal footing, but that didn't stop the captain of the raiders from glaring the other man down.

"Where are you cravens running?" The leader shouted to his men who were trying to flee the camp. Guts took this opportunity to pull his sword back and go in for another swing, but his opponent reacted just as fast and managed to knock Guts from his horse.

"Oof!" Guts grunted as his back hit the ground. He didn't even have a chance to rise as he was forced to roll out of the way of being trampled by his opponents' horse hooves.

As Guts made his next roll to dodge, he did so by bringing his sword arm up as he twisted his body; and the blade cut through the horses' neck. It gave off a dying neigh before its legs gave out from under it.

"Aagh!" Its rider screamed as he fell from his mount. With the horse out of the way, Guts pushed himself up and charged the leader. The larger man barely had time to swing his hammer and knock Guts' strike aside as he too rose to stand.

"You're a tough one, I'll give you that. But that's all the more glory for myself once I kill you!" he leader snarled at him and their weapons clashed once more.

He's definitely their leader for a reason, Guts thought as he continued to trade swings with the other man. Neither man was giving the other an inch in the fight. He's striking just as hard as I am. That hammer of his isn't about to break anytime soon. An idea began to make its way into his head.

As the leader brought his hammer down upon Guts, he made no move to block it with his sword. Instead, he waited for the weapon to get closer before he shot his left hand out and grabbed the hammer by its staff.

"What in the-?" The leader asked, wide eyed that Guts was able to stop his attack like that.

"Aahhh!" Guts yelled, and with his sword arm swung low and cut one of the man's legs off at the knee.

"BAAAA!" Yelled the leader as Guts let go of the hammer's staff and pushed him down. Guts planted a foot on the other man's chest and raised his sword above his head, ready to drive it down. "Wait!"

Guts paid him no mind as his sword drove its way through his face. Bits of teeth and skull went flying from the epicenter of the blow. "Captain!"

Guts saw Gaston holding the reins of his horse for him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Gaston," Guts told his subordinate, climbing back atop his steed.

"Captain, the others have joined! Look!" It was hard to miss. Griffith's light armor stood out amongst the night setting as he led a Calvary charge straight through. Any Chuder soldiers trying to make a fast getaway soon found themselves either cut down or being trampled under hoof by the advancing horses.

Guts saw Griffith look his way after cutting the throat of a fleeing Chuder soldier, and from behind the helm gave him a knowing smile. Guts just gave a nod of his head and rode to rejoin with the now assembled might of the Hawks command.

"Do you really think there are people up here?" Harry asked as he and a few other Hawks walked along a narrow path up to the top of the plateau. The walk wouldn't have been as bad if he wasn't carrying a sack of food over his shoulder and holding his sword in the other. He had taken Guts' tip on that; and it hurt. His arm felt like it was on fire having to grip the sword with only one hand. Did that mean it was working? What was the workout saying; feel the burn, or something like that?

"I'd assume so, yes." Judeau answered. Instead of food, he carried a banner for the Band of the Hawk. "In a time of crisis its common for people to flee to a safe location until the conflict has passed."

"We're almost to the top anyways!" Rickert called from behind. He had a brown messenger hawk resting on his arm to send word back to the main forces if need be. "We'll see soon enough, right?"

As the path got narrower towards the top, Harry made sure to hug the side of the rocky surface. When they had first started the ascent, he had nearly fallen over the side, had the bronze skinned giant known as Pippin grabbed him just in time.

Harry could only describe Pippin as being a miniature giant. The man was by far the largest in all of the Band of Hawk, even more so than Guts, and talked even less. But he still gave Harry a closed lipped smile to match his squinty eyes.

A sudden, "Halt!" Rang out through the night. Blocking the path was an older man with a grizzled mane of white hair and armed with a sword, a shield, and an oversized helm. "Who's-?" e stopped as he took in the sight of the banner Judeau carried. "Ah!" His face lit up with recognition. "You're those Hawks, right?"

"We are," Judeau greeted. "The king received word of Chuder forces not far from your village and sent us to deal with it."

"Glad you showed up when you did," the man ushered them along. "Those Chuder blights are all fucked in the head if you ask me. Never know when to surrender, always thinking about invading and taking homes away. Bastards."

The old man led them to the top of the plateau where the rest of the villagers were indeed gathered. Families were gathered close to each other and exchanged hushed whispers amongst themselves. Judeau gestured for both Harry and Rickert to come close.

"Rickert, give me some parchment. I'll send a letter back to let them know we found the villagers. Harry, why not pass some rations along? These people look like they had to skip out on more than just one meal."

Both boys nodded and went about their respective tasks.

If Harry was being honest, handing out food to these people felt good. As he went around to their little huddles handing out bread rations, the people smiled at him, thanked him from the bottom of their hearts it felt like. He was no stranger to serving out food, he had done so at a young age for his relatives, but here he was thanked for it. He wasn't just a part of this to swing a sword around; he was actually being used to help people who were grateful.

He noticed one of the people he had handed out bread to, a pretty young woman with brown hair and grayish brown eyes in her early to mid-twenties, actually give her entire ration to a group of kids he had yet to get to, before walking over to a group of younger girls.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the woman.

"Hm. Yes?"

Harry reached into the sack and pulled out another loaf. "Did you want another? I saw you give the other away." She looked at him and the bread before accepting it.

"Thank you," she said, tearing the bread into equal halves and giving a share to all of the assembled girls, minus herself.

"Uh, are you going to take any?" Harry asked confused as to how she would not take her own share.

She gave him a small smile. "Me? No. There are others who deserve it much more than I do. Besides, I've enough money back in the village stored away from my work."

"What's your job?" Harry asked.

She had to stifle a laugh. "Well… you're a bit too young to understand. But so long as those Chuder soldiers didn't ransack the place, I have enough to buy my own."

One of the teenage girls finished her share. "Thank you for the food mister. And thanks for sharing, Luca."

The young woman, Luca, smiled. "Of course."

"All set over here, Harry?" Judeau walked over.

"Yeah," he answered. "I think I'm all set."

"Right. I've sent off our messenger hawk to let the others know all the villagers are safe. We'll wait here until we get word back." Harry nodded in understanding. Judeau smiled. "You did well today."

"I kind of like this better than fighting really," Harry somewhat bashfully admitted.

"No shame in that," Judeau assured. "But you know it won't always be like this. One day you might actually be on the front lines." Harry just nodded. "I won't be too worried though."

"Huh?"

"You listen well," Judeau elaborated. "I don't know what Guts told you, but I assumed you listened to what he said. Why else would you carry your sword in one hand when you could have it sheathed? When the day comes, I'll trust you'll know enough to know what you're doing."

A/N: And that's it for that chapter. And there is a brief cameo from another Berserk character that wasn't subtle at all. Next chapter could see a potential time skip, not a big one, just a few months at the very least. Let me know what you think, and thank for reading.