Code: DxD Potter

by MetalGearMantis

(DxD/ Code Geass / Harry Potter Amalgaverse) Harry Potter was the 'forgotten child' of his family, thanks to his prodigy like elder siblings and his little sisters' status as 'The Girl Who lived'. However, he was not going to let this stop him from becoming the best. With an indomitable will and the resolve to do whatever he must, he will either ascended to the top, or die trying.

2. Chapter 2

Authors Notes = A/N

"Normal Speech."

'Thoughts."

"Foreign Language."

"Sacred Gears/Weapon spirits speech."

'Sacred Gear/ Weapon spirits thoughts."

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A/N:

Woah, I didn't think that this story would attract this kind of attention so quickly! Not that I'm complaining about it though: hopefully it bodes well for the future.

Any ways, after reviewing the PM's and reviews I've received, I've decided to compromise on the average chapter length, keeping them at between 10-15 K, with an extension for big battle chapters. The reasoning is because it is very difficult to find the inspiration to consistently churn out 20 K plus chapters when there's not one large set-piece event (I.E: A duel of epic proportions) to work on. However, I feel roughly 15 K is a fair compromise, especially when the chapters should (hopefully) be churned out on almost a four or so day basis, now that I've managed to sort out the personal business that's been plaguing me these past few weeks.

Also, I'd just like to apologize for a mistake I made in the Harem Q&A question answer from chapter one. I intend on keeping the harem at roughly ten girls, MAYBE eleven if there's enough demand for it, but no bigger. I just didn't change the place-holder numbers I originally used when I first wrote the chapter: and for that I apologize. But any ways, now that's been cleared up, I hope it's removed any fears of this becoming a piece of 'pointless porn crap' (which, by the way, it won't be for as long as I'm in control of the plot!).

But enough outta me.

Let's get going.

(P.S: Just so you know, before Harry's sacred gear is revealed, I'll be dropping a LOT of hints. However, some of them will be fake, in order to throw you guys off the scent of the real Gear.

So don't assume it's Zenith Tempest just yet. I mean, it may well be… or it might not. Hopefully no-one will really figure it out until it's revealed!)

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(Disclaimer: See chapter one)

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(Last time in 'Code: DxD Potter'.)

"You know, I would've just ignored your ignorant and foolish ramblings, Nott, if you had just kept insulting my family or my intelligence." Harry commented calmly, as if having a normal conversation with the downed boy as he continued to stalk towards him, magical power flaring slightly as he maintained the pace of his advance.

"But you just had to try and belittle me, didn't you? You had to try and make out that I was never going to be anything special, and that I'd be forgotten. And guess what Nott? That pisses me off.

A lot.

So the next time you want to having a shit-flinging contest, I suggest you stick to insulting my parents or elder siblings, or anything else about me. But if you try to even suggest that I'll be forgotten or that I'm not going to amount to anything… well let's just say that you don't really want to find out what'll happen to you.

Are we clear?"

Harry finished his mini speech by placing one foot firmly on Nott's chest, eliciting a pained groan from the young man as he tried to respond to Harry's cold and callous words. However, before the Nott heir could answer, an all too familiar voice broke through the silence that had enveloped the room.

"Care to explain what happened here, Mister Potter?"

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(Chapter one: Hogwarts, Year One Part 1 of 2)

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(With Harry and Draco the next morning)

Harry let out a small sigh of frustration as he, Draco and the rest of the Slytherin first-years were lead to their first ever lesson at Hogwarts: Herbology with Professor Sprout. The fifth-year who was in-charge and leading them was trying her best to be helpful and friendly, by supplying random tid-bits of information that she felt would be useful or pointing out different ways in which the first-years could navigate the seemingly endless halls of Hogwarts.

However, unlike most of his first year peers, Harry's mind and attention was focused on anything but the ravenett's words as she lead them around the castle, with his attention instead being focused on the events that had transpired last-night, following his altercation with Theodore Nott and his gorilla-like thugs.

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(Flashback, Yesterday evening, Snape's office)

Harry sat rigidly in the chair that professor Snape had ordered him to sit and wait in whilst he went to ask some more questions of those that had been present. As such, the youngest Potter male allowed his gaze to drift about the room, if only to occupy his mind whilst he briefly went over his defence argument in his head.

The room itself would have been incredibly spacious, had it not been for the obscene amount of potions paraphernalia that Professor Snape seemed dead-set on keeping in his office. The west wall was completely covered in shelves and book-cases that were filled to the brim with text-books that covered just about every single potion in existence: from deadly poisons to life-saving elixirs. Their spines were all well-worn, indicating that they still saw consistent use or had been used extensively earlier on. The east wall was similar to the western one, if only in terms of the countless number of shelves that were there. For instead of a never-ending library of potion's text-books, the eastern wall played host to countless potion ingredients: some which Harry knew were unbelievably expensive, whilst some he didn't even want to hazard a guess as to what their prices were.

It created an odd dichotomy for the room: a never-ending sea of brown and black leather to the left and a plethora of vivid colours to the right. And yet, Harry couldn't help but appreciate the fact that the scheme somehow managed to work. He had no idea how on Earth it could possibly work, but he wasn't going to argue against his first impression: it wasn't worth the headache it would bring. After all, rule one of the wizarding world was that you did not question the logic behind anything in it: the answers were usually so long and convoluted or unbelievable that you ended up with more of a conundrum than when you started.

'Honestly, you'd think that God made it this way just for his own personal amusement.' Harry grumbled to himself within the darker recesses of his mind. Just as he was about to launch into a long-winded internal debate about the issues he had with the wizarding world and God's (apparent) world-wide joke, the door to the room swung open and allowed Snape to glide into the room almost silently. Harry kept his gaze fixed on the man as he slowly snaked his way towards the heavy desk in-front of him, alert to any potential danger and watching for any signs that indicated that the other occupant was a threat to his life. He wasn't very good at spotting the signs yet, but he knew enough to at least give himself some sort of warning. Harry also knew that his head of house would not attack him, but it always paid to be safe when personal security was concerned, something that one 'Mad-Eye' Moony had been all too happy to point out when they first met.

Shaking his head lightly, the youngest Potter male was able to stop his thoughts from wondering onto the mad old Auror, and instead focused them fully on the bat-like man sat opposite him, peering at him with his beady little eyes over the vast expanse of his mighty desk that separated them. The man kept his eyes fixed on the young Potter's own, as if trying to search for something within his violet depths. It was not the stare of a man using Legilimency in an effort to delve into the deepest and darkest corners of another's mind, but rather the stare of a man who knew how to read people like an open book: acquiring all he needed to know about them through a single glance.

Unfortunately for him, Harry was not so easy to read.

Aforementioned Potter, for his part, held Snape's stare with his own. Just like his head of house, he kept his face neutral and tried to remove any form of remaining emotion from his violet orbs. He didn't want the man trying to trip him up by manipulating and information he could glean from his stare: if only to make things a little bit more difficult for the ex-spy. The two of them sat there like this for almost a minute: one scouting and the other hiding. Eventually though, the eldest of the two realised that he would soon have to speak to his younger charge: and so he did, in a voice as soft and quiet as when he spoke in the common room.

"So mister Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry kept his gaze fixed on the man, knowing that he wanted him to turn away in shame or cut his temper lose, and spill his story on why he attacked Theodore Nott. And if Harry was perfectly honest, he almost felt compelled to. Snape's presence naturally exuded a commanding undertone that you couldn't help but feel compelled to acquis to, if only out of self-preservation. It was undoubtedly one of the man's many traits that allowed him to be an effective spy for Dumbledore's 'Order of the Phoenix'. However, Harry had enough control over his mental state and his own emotions that he didn't allow the man's words to affect him, and instead took a deep and calming breath before he began to recount his tale.

"Nott was practically begging for a fight all evening, Professor. He tried to bully me out of my seat when he first walked into the room, and when that backfired on him, he then switched to mocking me and my dreams.

I can tolerate just about anything, Professor Snape, but one of the few things I cannot stand is having my dreams mocked. And unfortunately, Nott decided to find that out the hard way. Normally I would not have snapped in such a violent manner, but I have had a bit of a…. difficult day, shall we say? Any other time, I would have ignored him, but I just couldn't today…

And I'm sorry for that."

Most of what Harry had said had actually been the outright truth. Nott had been looking for any excuse to show off his hired muscle in Crabbe and Goyle, whilst also flaunting his own magical talent. It just so happened that Harry was a much more powerful wizard than Nott, and probably all of his peers, thanks to his own personal (and brutal) training regime. And as for having a bad day, that stemmed from his dismay at his parents failing to wish him good luck or even give him one hug. They had been sad and he could tell that they did want him to do well, but their failure to communicate these feelings properly was a serious flaw in Harry's opinion. As such, his mood had been extremely bitter and sour when he climbed aboard the Hogwarts express, and it was only thanks to Shirley and Draco's company that he managed to life his mood somewhat.

But Nott had brought all of that progress crashing down around him when he decided to pick on Harry.

Of course, his real reason for Nott had been because he had looked down on his dream and potential, and tarred him with a brush that painted Harry as a 'born loser'. It had sparked something deep within Harry's soul to hear those words: he had come to Hogwarts to become the strongest living mage, and he would damned before he allowed an arrogant and talentless person such as Nott to look down on him like that. He was going to become the strongest wizard to have ever lived, and he would be damned before he allowed anyone to tell him otherwise. It was his life's goal, his only true desire: for if he became strong enough, then nobody would be able to ignore him anymore, as he would be the name that everybody knew.

Nobody in his world would be able to call him weak and a failure, for he would be able to crush them all.

Nobody would be able to look down on him, for he would look down at them from beyond the top of the mountain on which all supernatural beings rested.

But most importantly…...,

Nobody would be able to harm those closest to him, for he would have the strength to protect them.

If he was strong enough, then everything else would fall into place.

'And it will, eventually.'

Shaking his head lightly, Harry cleared away his thoughts of the future, and instead focused his mind on the present: just in time to catch his head of house's next words.

"I thought this may be the case, mister Potter. The other… reliable students in the common room informed me that mister Nott was extremely antagonistic towards you throughout the evening, and that he, and I quote from one of them, 'got what was coming to him'."

Here Harry almost let out a mental cheer of joy, thinking that he may well have gotten off scot-free. However, before said mental cheer could manifest itself, the 'Bat of Hogwarts's dungeons' spoke up once again.

"This does not mean that you shall go unpunished. As unfair as it seems, our….. illustrious headmaster has ordered the faculty to be far stricter with such matter, and as such I cannot allow you to walk away from this without a punishment.

As wrong as mister Nott and his associates were, you did not have to act so violently. But seeing as you were under severe provocation, I have merely scheduled you a one hour detention for tomorrow evening, whereas Mister Nott and his friends shall suffer far more appropriate punishments." Snape never wavered once from his speech, ignoring Harry's attempts to protest or even ask questions; whilst (seemingly) knowingly answering Harry's questions and dismantling his vehement protests. In all honesty, Harry decided not to say anything else on the matter, considering how eloquently the man had dealt with him seconds previously.

Cocking his head to the side, Snape nodded his assent to Harry 'wordless' request to leave the room. Harry raised his slight form from the confines of the high-armed and backed chair, before quickly yet calmly proceeding towards the door that his head-of-house had entered through. But before he allowed the door to close fully behind him, a sudden realization struck Harry. So turning sharply on his heel and grunting slightly in effort as he stopped the door from closing, Harry opened it up enough so that his head was able to fit back through and face his head of house. Said man merely raised an eyebrow at Harry's action, but none-the-less, gestured for him to ask whatever question was plaguing his mind.

"Sir, who is my detention with?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Harry could have sworn that he caught sight of Snape's lips flickering upwards ever-so-slightly in amusement, whilst his eyes seemed to gain an odd glean to them that Harry could not place. It was as if the man had been expecting Harry to ask the question so that he could tell him, like he had a plan in-place that he wanted to set in motion. The youngest male Potter wanted to refute that idea, but something primal and instinctive was telling him that he may well have been far closer to the truth than he gave credit for. Snape fixed Harry with his beady black eyes before answering the young Potter's question in the same tone of voice he always seemed to speak with.

"Your detention shall be with…"

(End Flashback)

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"Quirinus Quirrel: ex vampire-hunter, stray devil slayer and mercenary wizard. And now your new 'Defence against the dark arts' teacher." Quirrel stated in a voice that simply exuded confidence and a commanding aura that compelled you to listen; which is the only reason that Harry was dragged from his thoughts about last night by the man. Shaking his head slightly, Harry focused his full attention onto the man in order to get a full look at him.

Quirrel wore very similar attire as to the clothes he wore at the Sorting ceremony and welcoming feast yesterday: but instead of red robes her wore dark purple and blue, along with his body-armour. The same attentiveness was there as he slowly passed his eyes over the class, as if evaluating their worth, he continued to do this as he resumed his welcoming speech to the group of students, entering a slow and measured bit of pacing back and forth as he allowed his commanding voice to fill the room.

"Unlike other subjects, which will teach you the majority of your spells this year in the safety of a class-room, I will be teaching you how to survive.

Which is why my first rule in this classroom is that you never, ever bring books with you again; a book will not save your sorry hide when fighting against Goblins or Trolls, only well-honed instincts and practices will."

The moment Quirrel had finished his speech, Harry couldn't help but notice a girl raise her hand out of the corner of his eye. She was a member of Gryffindor house (whom the Slytherin's shared Defence and Transfiguration with) and had bushy hair and slightly larger than normal front teeth. She had a stern look on her face that told Harry that she (for whatever reason) did not approve of what Professor Quirrel was telling them. Said ex-mercenary cast the girl a bored look, and gestured with his hands for her to ask whatever question it may be that she had.

"Professor, how on earth can you expect us to write proper notes if we don't have our text-books with us?" She asked, no, demanded in a highly irritating tone of voice that Harry knew would not set her in good stead with other children. Quirrel seemed to almost role his eyes in exasperation before he answered the girl as if speaking to someone with hearing difficulties.

"I said do not bring books to class: which also means no note taking." He answered disinterestedly, earning what Harry assumed was supposed to be a 'glare' from the young girl.

"But then how are we going to revise the theory behind a spell?"

"Simple: you don't. Theory won't save you in the field Miss….." Quirrel trailed off at the end so that she could provide him with her name, which the girl only seemed all too happy to do before launching into yet another complaint about the man's teaching style.

"Granger. Hermione Granger. But then how are we going to be tested at the end of the year?"

"Well miss Granger, I will reveal closer to the time how your exam shall work. But rest assured it shall be complimentary to the style of teaching you shall be subjected to. Now if I might ask that any other question are held until the end, I would appreciate it." The tone which the new Defence teacher used left no room for argument: no-one was going to be interrupting him again in that fashion until he was finished with his little speech. Granger looked like she wanted to protest against the man's words, but before she could so much as say a word, Quirrel shot her a glare that told her there would be no further questions for now, and thus suitably cowed the girl into keeping silent.

After quickly casting his eyes around the room making sure that everyone else understood, Quirrel resumed his pacing and observation of the room's occupants.

"In this new Defence class I will teach you the tricks, skills and spells that have helped keep me alive in my line of work and made me the best. As such, you can expect these classes to be far more demanding both physically and mentally than any other you shall participate in.

As such, the second rule is that there is to be no whining or complaining about any activity undertaken, or I shall see you lose House-points and possibly even earn detentions with me." He stated sternly, earning worried looks from most of the class. Turning to Draco (who he had fortunately sat down next to on auto-pilot), Harry couldn't help but notice that the young boy also had a slightly panic-stricken look on his face at the mention of physical activity.

In Draco's own words…..

'If you exercising for any reason other than Quidditch, you have a serious problem.'

Smiling lightly at his compatriots concern, Harry turned his attention back to Quirrel as he resumed his rather interesting speech, which continued to worry or surprise the students in the class, save for seemingly Harry.

"I will show you how to fell the mightiest of foes: send Devils back to the Underworld, destroy the remaining soul of a Fallen or lay low the pure wings of Gods' servants, alongside whatever other beasts I think you should know about.

This world we live in is full of majesty and great beauty, but at the same time it is also unbelievably dangerous and cruel, which is why my final major rule in this classroom is that when I tell you to do or not to do something, there is a very good reason behind why I have told you to do so, and you will adhere to them.

Or I'll see that you never step foot in this classroom ever again, clear?" The tone Quirrel had adopted for the last few moments filled even Harry with a slight sense of fear at the man's threat. His tone was as ice-cold and unwavering as a winter wind: he was completely serous in his threat about making sure that they followed his instructions.

'Okay, so the man is a consummate professional with a clear goal in mind. It's clear that he does his job with the utmost seriousness and professionalism expected of his role. His attentiveness and weariness as he glanced about the classroom indicates that he is exceptionally well trained and equipped, and if I were to guess based on his movements, he knows how to use his training when it comes to a real life threat.

Excellent.

Now all I need to see is whether or not he is actually as good of a teacher as he seems capable of being, if these early vibes are to be trusted.'

Harry stopped thinking just in time to catch his 'potential extra-curricular combat mentor' speaking again, once more to the whole class.

"Now if you'd be so kind as to stand up and throw your bags into a corner, I'd very much like to get this lesson started so that I can assess where you all stand currently."

Complying with his teacher's orders alongside the rest of his class, Harry sprung up from his seat and placed his bag in the back right corner of the bland and boring room they stood in. The main source of light was to the left, which was provided thanks to three large glass windows which allowed sunlight to pour into the room. Failing this, there were also three large chandeliers hanging above them which would more than easily provide enough light for the room.

Turning his attention back to his teacher, Harry watched as the man waved his right hand gently, causing a magical circle to form under each set of desks and chairs. Then, with another hand movement, Quirrel levitated all of the furniture (save for his desk) out of the way with what seemed like incredible ease. Harry knew that most above average witches and wizards of Quirrel's age would also be able to do this, but he couldn't help but appreciate the display of magic; it was beyond what he could do right now, and below where he wanted to be.

'Perhaps an acceptable benchmark.'

"Alright class, listen up! I want you back in the centre of the room this instant. Like I said earlier, I need to assess where each and every one of you is currently at, so hurry up will you?" He snapped in an authoritative voice that seemed to put an extra yard of pace into everyone's steps bar Harry and a few others. Joining his peers in the centre of the room, he was disappointed to see that there was a clear divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor students, with the former ignoring the house of Lions, whilst the latter glared hatefully at the house of Salazar's chosen. Quirrel seemed to pick up on this, if the narrowing of his eyes' said anything about his current thoughts, but he chose not to speak out about it and instead focused on delivering his lecture.

"When you find yourself in a battle with a dangerous foe, it is important to remember three crucial things. Can anyone tell me what these three things are?"

Most of the assembled students furrowed their brows in confusion for several seconds before finally several tentative hands were raised. Harry, of course, had a good idea as to what the man was looking for in their answers, but he wanted to see if there was anyone in the room who was of a like mind to him. Quirrel cast a glance at Harry, as if he knew the answers, but chose not to single him out and instead went for one of the raised hands.

"You boy."

"Seamus Finnegan. Errrr….. what your foe is?"

"No, next."

The boy let out a sigh of relief, clearly glad to have just gotten the ball rolling so that the class didn't descend into an awkward silence. Harry smiled lightly as several more hands were raised unsurely into the air, and each answer was shot down after the first point. The answers varied from 'what spells to use' to 'assessing how powerful you foe is'. All in all there was a mixed bag of answers, some of which showed an attempt to grasp the concepts of fighting, others which showed just how ignorant some people were of the real world.

"Duelling etiquette." Pansy Parkinson had said with such an air of confidence that Harry almost snorted in amusement. Quirrel had no such control, and openly laughed at the girls suggestion, before providing the simplest answer that destroyed her point.

"Troll's don't do etiquette, Miss Parkinson."

All in all it appeared none of the class really had any natural fighting instincts like Harry did, and it wasn't long before their incorrect answers elicited a response from the normally rather stoic Potter.

Hermione Granger had put her hand up with an air of confidence that just caused Harry to shake his head, already anticipating what the girls answers would be.

"Miss Granger."

The girl straightened at the mention of her name, a smug smile crossing her lips as she began to recite an answer that sounded awfully familiar to the text-book that the school had order the students to buy. In fact, Harry would go so far as to say that the girl had recited it word for word.

"The three most important factors when engaging in a fight are to know the opponents weakness, select the spells which will allow you to exploit them and finally to subdue your foe as quickly as possible."

Harry merely looked at the girl in disbelief. Her answer was exactly the same as a small paragraph from the book they had been given (which Harry had 'misplaced' out of the window of his compartment on the Hogwarts Express), she didn't even bother to change the phrasing or the tone of the passage. Judging by her smug look, she clearly thought that doing this made her extremely intelligent: which it did not.

'Anyone can learn a book off-by-heart.' Harry thought to himself before he let out a small sigh of exasperation. If this was the only sort of competition he was going to get in this class then he would get bored very quickly.

However, not only did his sigh allow him to alleviate his feelings, it also drew the attention of the entire class towards him, just as he intended. Draco, Tracey, Daphne and Blaise all shot Harry slightly confused looks, whilst the rest of the room stared hatefully at him. Quirrel merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Something to add mister…"

"Potter, Harry Potter sir. And yes, I wish to add the correct answers so that we can move onto the next stage of your lesson, Professor Quirrel."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Do tell, then."

The whole time that he was speaking, Harry did not allow his gaze to wonder from Quirrel's own intense stare, refusing to back down. It was like staring into a raging inferno, so intense was the teacher's cold and calculating stare. It was the stare that had made many wanted witches and wizards merely surrender, instead of risking the dangers of fighting back against him. For deep with the gaze of Quirinus Quirrel lay a maddening hunger, a hunger that Harry only understood too well: the hunger of a man seeking a true challenge, a fight where his life would be in constant danger, a hunger to leave nothing but bloodied stains in his wake. It was the look that only the strongest of the strong in the Wizarding world knew and understood….

For it was the exact same look in their own eyes every day.

Harry wanted to do nothing more than break eye contact with the man and shrink into a corner so that he might be forgotten. But his pride as a fighter would not allow him to do so, nor would his desire and ambition. If he wanted this monster to teach him the things he knew, help him unlock the secrets of ascending the mountain that was the supernatural world, then he could not show the man any form of fear. To do so would mean that he was scared of the men and women who dwelled beyond the masses, and he could not afford to be afraid of them if he intended to become stronger than them.

So he held Quirrel's gaze….

And answered his question.

"The first thing to remember in combat is to understand and exploit the environment however you can. The second is to counteract your opponents strengths with either the environment or your own strengths, thus making them an easier target. Finally, and most importantly, you cannot strike with the intention to incapacitate your foes. You must strike with the intent to hurt them, brutalize them, maim them….

Kill them."

The silence that filled the room after Harry's final words was nearly deafening. Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of shock (Draco and the more 'tolerable' Slytherin's), fear (the rest of Harry's house) and abject horror (the Gryffindor's). Quirrel was again the only exception: his face a perfectly blank mask as he kept his gaze fixed on the youngest male Potter, a gaze which Harry met. He knew that in order to prove himself to Quirrel, he needed to keep his conviction steadfast and pure: and if that meant weathering that gaze again, then he would do so happily.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, Quirrel spoke.

"Mr Potter, that is…"

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(Daphne Greengrass' P.O.V)

Daphne Greengrass was a girl who prided herself on her ability to stay calm and collected no matter who she was dealing with. From arrogant pure-blood noblemen to Quidditch super-stars, the young blond girl was easily able to maintain her high standards in terms of emotional control: lips straight and eyes cold, a blank mask which she could use to protect the 'real' version of herself from the rest of the world, save for those she loved and trusted. And yet despite her near-perfect control, the young pure-blood could not help but concede the fact that not only was there yet another person in her life now who seemed able to break her barriers: but also that same person had better emotional control than her.

From the moment she laid eyes on him, Daphne could tell that Harry Potter was completely different from the rest of his family. From what she had seen at official functions, most of the Potter's seemed to be kind, gentle, open and genuinely nice people who were also not afraid to say what was on their mind. They were the kind of people you dreamed about having for friends, and feared making enemies out of. And yet Harry was none of these things: he seemed cold, calculating, extremely cagey and (if last night's outburst was anything to go by) unafraid of using violence to solve his problems. It was an odd dichotomy in Daphne's opinion: after all, surely Harry would want to follow in his elder sisters' and brother's footsteps, and yet here he was seemingly doing everything in his power to appear as their polar opposite. It made no sense to the girl, but then again she had no idea as to who the real Harry Potter was, and as such she could not say that this was unexpected of him as an individual but rather middle children in general.

Hell, her own mother often spoke of how she had grown up looking up to her older sister, Daphne's auntie. It seemed to be the natural thing to do, and yet Potter chose to ignore it.

'It's almost as if he doesn't want to be like them at all….. like he wants to be different.'

And if that wasn't surprising enough, then there was his apparent fearlessness and emotional control.

Yesterday evening entertainment aside (which Daphne would freely admit to having enjoyed), Daphne would also (grudgingly) admit that Potter also seemed to have far better emotional control than her, if his staring match with their new Professor was anything to go by. She could barely look at the man's intense gaze for three seconds before panic and fear began to creep through her body, forcing her mask to drop and display the fear she felt. It was impossible for anyone to meet that monster's gaze and not feel a damned thing, and yet Harry Potter was holding fast, refusing to give up his staring contest. It was as if he felt he had something to prove to someone, and that doing this was the only way in which he would be able to do so. Combine this with their apparent mutual dislike of one Theodore Nott and his cronies, and Daphne couldn't help but let the tiniest of smile's grace her lips for a split second.

'Hmmm, I'll have to probe around later on. You're an interesting person Harry Potter, one I look forward to hopefully getting to know …. provided Quirrel doesn't incinerate you with his glare, that is.'

The Greengrass heiress would have continued with her internal musing, but before she could truly delve into them, Professor Quirrel finally spoke.

"Mister Potter, that is…."

The pause that followed caused just about everybody in the room to hold their breath: the Slytherin's (mostly) in hope that he was right and was about to win them their first house-points of the year, and the Gryffindor's so that they would be able to laugh at Harry when his odd answer was rejected.

Unfortunately for the house of Lions, Lady Luck was not on their side.

"….absolutely one hundred percent correct: Ten points to Slytherin."

Daphne let out a small sigh of relief along with the rest of her house, whilst the Gryffindor's mostly groaned in disappointment. However, before Quirrel could continue, the same girl who had been asking questions earlier (Hermione if Daphne remembered correctly), voiced her outrage at the Professor's statement.

"Professor! That's not the answer in out text-books; and furthermore, how on Earth could you possibly condone the notion of killing someone…." Her voice had started off as angry and wrathful, but it had slowly become dropped in volume and aggression until it petered out as mere whimper under Quirrel's gaze. Turning his bored gaze away, the young teacher strode to the front of the class before he answered the young girl.

"Textbooks won't save you when a vampire comes knocking, miss Granger. Only the will to survive and do what you must will. A textbook can tell you how its writer thinks you should do things: but they are guidelines for an ideal situation, a situation that will almost certainly never occur in the real world.

Subjugation….heh, don't even get me started on doing that over killing. Half the reason so many people died during the first Blood Purity war was due to the fact that a lot of Aurora's struggled with the idea of killing their foe, and wound up dead themselves. When you fight against an enemy witch or wizard, there are no rules or regulations, and nothing says either of you has to walk away alive.

Killing is not something you should ever take pleasure in: it is just a sad fact that we have to do it in our world in order to survive."

The man's speech left no room for argument, and Daphne, like most of the class, simply allowed Quirrel's words to sink into her skull for further contemplation. She may have been eleven years old, but she was wise to concepts such as killing; she had just never given it too much thought before. And she wasn't given very long at that moment either, because before she could delve into an in-depth 'discussion' about the topic, Quirrel interjected and dragged the group of eleven year olds out of their impending depression.

"Any ways, that's enough focus on all of this depressing stuff: that's something we can handle when you're all a little older and mature. For now I advise that you all grab some cheap work-out clothes when you next can. This time I'll transfigure your robes … I need to assess your fitness levels…..

So let's get to it!"

---

(With Draco and Harry, two hours later)

"I fricking hate Quirrel! How the hell can he expect us to focus for our other lessons when he makes us run our guts out and all that….. crap, I think I might be sick again."

"Aim out of the window Draco, unless you want daddy to pay a cleaning-bill."

"Fuck you."

"Temper now." Harry chided Draco cheekily, earning a snarl of anger from the aforementioned Malfoy, who was doing his absolute best to not bring up whatever was left of his breakfast. His stomach had been queasy ever since their first lesson, and it still didn't seem too keen to settle down: and yet it also still seemed to be demanding food at the same time.

"You know those may just be hunger pains or something: you can get them if you work out really hard and don't eat anything." Harry tried to supply helpfully. Draco merely groaned at his friendliest acquaintance, before forcing the pain and queasiness out of his mind and instead focusing on what had transpired during his first day at Hogwarts.

The 'fitness test' that Quirrel had been all but torture in name for most of the class: shuttles down the surprisingly long room which were complemented by a set of ten sit-ups, press-ups or jumping-jacks when one reached either end of the room. Most of the class dropped out after three or four shuttles. Draco had managed to stay out for a fair bit longer thanks to the fitness he had obtained via playing so much Quidditch. But even then, he had been struggling before long, and he felt all but stupid when he compared himself to Harry Potter.

The boy was like a machine: he was still going pretty strong long after the rest of the class had dropped from exhaustion. He was obviously tiring, but it would have taken a while longer before he reached the same damned physical state as the rest of the class. It was an impressive sight really: not once did a grunt of discomfort or a moan of pain make its way past the youngest Potter's lips. Had Draco not known any better, he would have thought that the boy was popping potions like there was no tomorrow. But Draco knew for a fact that he wasn't.

And that made it all the more impressive.

In fact, Draco would go so far as to say that the only people who could match Harry in terms of fitness would be the Quidditch players at the school: and even then quite a lot of them would be hard-pressed to keep up with Harry.

Said Potter let out a small sigh as they continued walking before he decided to speak to a now (somewhat) recovered Draco.

"You know what, I'm surprised that my dear family hasn't come to check on me yet, what with the whole being sorted in to Slytherin and all." He commented blandly, causing Draco's eyes to narrow slightly and his brow to furrow in slight confusion at the you Potter's words.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean. The whole sentence had a sarcastic undertone and he placed way too much emphasis on the family quip… I wonder if he's trying to level our relationship out a little bit. My comments about my own family probably drew his own curiosity, and this is probably his way of telling me that he's willing to hear me out, as long as I do the same.' Draco thought to himself as he continued to ponder Harry's words.

It was true that he may have allowed his slight distaste for his father to bleed into his earlier conversations with Harry, but it was all intentional, like Harry's own words.

In pure-blood culture, when two people decided that they may well be true 'allies' (I.E: Best friends), it was customary to reveal one extremely personal secret about yourself to the other person. It was to show a clear level of trust that the person may not even have with their own family: and given the volatile and shady world in which they lived, such an act was not to be undertaken lightly. However, Draco could honestly say without a doubt that Harry was the best choice to make as a best friend: they already got on very well and the trust clearly went both ways in their relationship thus far.

He would have to talk to the youngest Potter male later about all of this, when they were in their room. Harry was the sort of person most people would kill for if it meant having him watching their back if his current attitude was real.

Draco continued to ponder this as the two of them travelled in an agreeable silence to the Great-Hall, neither willing to break it as they continued on their way. Eventually, the two of them arrived at the main-entrance to the Great-Hall, but before either of them could enter the ancient building's famous hall, a somewhat familiar voice called out to the two of them.

"Potter, Malfoy; please wait."

Turning around, Draco couldn't help but let his eyes narrow slightly as he spotted the blond heiress of the Greengrass family and her best friend, Tracey Davis, walking towards himself and Harry who's eyes had also narrowed slightly.

"What do you want, Greengrass?" Draco asked calmly and almost cordially, doing his absolute best to prevent any form of argument between them. The girl merely raised an elegant eyebrow before she decided to respond to the young Malfoy's words.

"I just wished to ask if you would not mind me and Tracey joining you for lunch today."

"And why would you wish to do that, Greengrass? Last time I checked, you didn't want anything to do with a 'filthy blood-purist' like myself." Draco replied coolly, earning a set of narrowed eyes from the two girls as they tried to match his own steely gaze. Their last true 'encounter' had been at an official function in which Draco had to assume his 'perfect' pureblood mask in-order to avoid the ire of his father. Naturally, some of the things he had said appalled him… and Daphne Greengrass had also made her distaste for his words known quite clearly.

"I know and I apologize for my behaviour. It was … unfair of me to judge you with so many other factors influencing the evening, and I would like to take the chance to not only get to know you but also Potter. After all, me and Tracey would look rather silly if we only hung out with each-other." Daphne replied with the tiniest of smiles gracing her lips, causing Draco's eyes to widen slightly.

'She knows I'm not like my father? How? Wait…. of course. It's because I'm hanging out with Harry! God how the hell could I have been so stupid as to have not seen this coming?

Ah well, it's not like this is really a bad situation to be in really. A couple of extra people to watch our backs for the next few years would be bloody useful: and considering the power behind both their names, it'll just further add to our strength.'

"And I apologize for my behaviour that evening as well, circumstances aside. It was unbecoming of me and I should have acted in a manner more befitting of a person of my station. As such, I would be more than happy to have lunch with you, providing Harry here is happy too." Draco responded confidently after his mini internal discussion, whilst turning to aforementioned Potter, who merely shrugged his shoulders in the universal sign for 'I don't care' carelessly. Draco couldn't help but smile when he saw the happy faces of Daphne and Tracey who both looked excited at the opportunity, although Daphne's was more a tiny smirk as opposed to Tracey's full-blown smile.

The group came together and made their way into the great-hall, which was currently pretty empty, save for a few small groups splattered around each of the tables, with the concepts of 'House tables' disappearing as students from all houses talked with their friends at different tables. The group of Slytherin first-years were about to make their way over to Salazar's table, but before they could, they were stopped by a distinctly older feminine voice calling after one of their number.

"Harry!"

Turning around, Draco couldn't help but feel his eyes narrow slightly as the three eldest Potter children came marching towards their group. The red-headed girl and the boy both looked slightly angry and concerned, whilst the black-haired female who had called out to Draco's new 'friend' maintained a neutral expression on her face as they reached the Slytherin quartet. Eventually, they paused their march some two or three feet away, each keeping their gaze focused solely on Harry: who for his part, did not look phased by their expressions.

"Can I help you, sister?" He asked in a fairly neutral tone, although the youngest Potter allowed some bitterness to enter his voice when he said the word sister. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Draco filled that piece of information away for later before refocusing his attention on the ongoing conversation.

Harry's siblings all seemed slightly taken aback by his tone of voice, but to their credit none of them allowed it to affect them.

"We just want to talk, Harrykins. See how your settling in and all of that jazz." The brother responded with a small smile. Harry seemed to glare at him for several tense seconds before responding in his usually calm and collected tone of voice.

"I'm busy at the moment, can't this wait until tomorrow?" He asked tersely, eliciting a shake of the head from all three of his eldest siblings.

"It's tradition."

'Hah, tradition my arse! They just want to make sure that Harry isn't a dark wizard in the making or falling into the lies of the Malfoy household: god they couldn't be more obvious unless they had a banner with their intentions written on it.' Draco thought to himself bitterly as he began to panic slightly internally; what if they managed to sway Harry? What if they filled his head with lies and made Harry hate him? There were so many possible outcomes to this situation, and very few of them had an ending that even came close to resembling positive. All Draco could do was hope and pray that one of the more favourable endings played out.

Harry kept his face neutral before he seemed to resign himself to the fact he would have to accompany his elder siblings.

"Fine, but this had better not take too long." Harry growled out, earning a small nod of the head from his eldest sister who gestured with her head to follow her. The youngest Potter male turned to Draco and their two new companions before offering a small smile to them all, as if to re-assure them that he wouldn't allow anything to change or sway him.

"You guys go on ahead, I'll be back before you even know it."

And with that, Harry turned around and followed his elder siblings out of the great Hall, leaving and anxious Draco and two curious witches behind….

Whilst a third set of eyes watched on, unnoticed by anyone else.

---

(With Harry and his siblings)

Harry couldn't help but let out a small sigh of frustration as his siblings dragged him away from the Great Hall and out into the Hogwarts ground. Eventually, the four of them stopped on a gorgeous old stone bridge that spanned the gap between the southern planes of the school and the main Castle. The whole structure was covered by a roof and the sides were decorated by hundreds of images, each one of famous battles fought by legendary figures in the Supernatural world. From the first battle between God and the Four Mao that produced the Rocky mountain range to the legendary battle between Metatron and Kokabiel that levelled Holland's mountains: they were all there.

Harry allowed the detailed images and stories to capture his attention for a few moments whilst Rose cast several spells that would keep their conversation from being overheard and also deter people from using bridge. Harry kept his focus on the carvings until his siblings finally pulled him out his thoughts.

"Harry."

Shaking his head lightly, Harry focused his attention on his eldest sibling Iris, who had fixed her younger sibling with a determined and (what Harry assumed was supposed to be) frightening stare, which was complemented by his elder brother. Rose's face was kept in an impassive mask as she looked at Harry which annoyed him slightly: he was used to seeing the girl as an easy to read, bubbly character. So for her to reign in her emotions meant that she viewed this all as a serious issue.

A tense silence slowly settled over the group, Iris and co trying to make Harry feel slightly uneasy, whilst Harry maintained his stone-faced visage, refusing to give them what they wanted. Eventually though, Iris realised that they couldn't just all stand there in absolute silence for hours on end as they waited for someone else to start the conversation, and as such decided to take the first step and broke the uneasy silence that was slowly suffocating them.

"You need to speak to the Headmaster about changing Houses and you have to stop hanging around with Draco Malfoy."

The moment those words left Iris' lips, Harry was forced to allow his eyes to narrow slightly and a small downwards quirk of the lips to take place. Although he looked only mildly annoyed, deep down Harry was absolutely livid with his sister.

'How dare she. How FUCKING dare she? After all these years, NOW she wants to take an interest in my life?

No, screw that! This isn't an interest in me, this is just a way to vent some hatred towards Slytherin. It's absolutely pathetic. I'm my own person, I don't need some jumped up git like her, Rose or Alex trying to tell me what I should do with my life. I know this has probably come straight from mother and father, but to be honest I do not care for what they have to say. Nobody is going to hurt me whilst I'm friends with Draco, and besides that I will NOT live in their shadows anymore…..

But what if they're right and Slytherin is too dangerous?'

The moment that one thought entered his mind, he felt something else creep up from the deepest and darkest depths of his mind, speaking to him in a hissing whisper that seemed to echo from everywhere and no-where.

'They have never once taken an interest in you. The only reason they are doing so now is because they want you to remain in their shadow for as long as you live, Harry. They're scared because they cannot even being to fathom your desires, your needs or your goals, or even the full extent of your potential. You can become the strongest Wizard to ever walk the face of this Earth, but you cannot afford to let your siblings hold you back.'

"I'm sorry but I won't be doing that, Iris."

"What?/ Are you joking?" Iris and Alexander both spluttered in surprise at Harry's response. Harry himself was also slightly shocked that he had been so blunt with his sister, but the more aggressive portion of his mind (which is what he assumed the source of the second argument) had compelled him to do so. And soon after, Harry realised why. He needed to present an affronted image so that when these talks broke down, he could have some peace and quiet for a few weeks: after all, they wouldn't want to push him any further than they were, lest they create a bigger problem.

Recovering from his own slight personal confusion, Harry hardened his heart as he responded to his siblings.

"I said I will not change Houses, nor will I stop hanging out with Draco. I am happy where I am and my acquaintance has done me no harm, so why should I just turn on him?" He stated coolly, causing Iris and Alexander to snap out of their stupors before regaining enough of their wits to respond to him.

"What the hell Harry? Slytherin is dangerous for someone like you, let alone socialising with a Malfoy!" Alexander responded hotly, earning him an apathetic look from Harry as he responded to his brothers passionate words with his own.

"What do you mean someone like me? And second of all, aren't all three of you always preaching about how you shouldn't judge a book by its cover? Bit hypocritical of you to stop me hanging out with someone just because of their family name, isn't it?" He retorted sternly, earning a snarl of frustration from his brother who already looked ready to flip his lid. But before he could launch into it, Iris filled the silence with her own words.

"Harry, I know it seems silly and I know you think your strong, but Slytherin is a dangerous house for someone who's family is so aligned with the 'light'. Mum and Dad agree with us completely on this by the way.

Please Harry, we just want to make sure your safe. Your our little brother and we want nothing more than to make sure you have a fantastic time at Hogwarts, like we've had." She intoned gently, her voice trying to convey a fully honest message to her youngest brother. However, unfortunately for the eldest Potter sibling, her young brother paid her no words no mind as the aggressive part of his mind filled his head again once again.

'Protect you? Protect you? You know that's nothing more than an absolute lie: a way of trying to keep you under their control and therefore in their shadow. After all, in any other of the Houses, they'll be able to keep a far closer eye on you and therefore inhibit your training when it strays into more dangerous territory. You cannot let that happen! If you ever want to step out of their shadow, you cannot let them control you, for it will eventually destroy you.

Those fools would see your potential squandered in mediocrity, just to ensure their own favouritism. You speak of how you wish to surpass your siblings….

And this is where your journey MUST begin.

Ignore their orders, temper your will and remove the loyalty you feel you owe them. Family they may be in blood, but that does not mean they have the right to order you around like some sort of servant!

Sever the chains and begin your journey!'

The words struck something deep within Harry. The burning passion he had developed to become the best was now gone, replaced with a roaring inferno of wild passion and determination.

It was right.

He was right.

His so-called family wanted to do nothing more than dig their claws into his life and crush his ambition so that he would never attempt to surpass them. But he would not let them, he would fight against their manipulations until he was little more than a cold corpse buried six feet under. And so it was with a will stronger than Angelic steel or the walls of Hell that the youngest Potter male responded to his sisters words.

"I don't care Iris. None of you have the right to tell me how to live my life: not the House I am in or the people I can hang out with.. None of you hold any sway over my life any more as far as I am concerned.

I'm my own person now: not the shadow cow-tailing to your achievements you want me to be." His words carried an edge to them that caused even his normally unflappable sister to flinch in shock at his harsh and cold words. Her face held a hurt look, whilst his brother looked just outright shocked and mortified by his words. Not even bothering to wait for a response, Harry turned on his heels and made to walk away from them all, but before he could do so, a third voice that he had completely forgotten about called after him.

"Harry James Potter. You will listen to what we have to say and you will do as we have asked. I don't care how you feel about this personally, but in time you will realize that this is for your own good." Rose stated in an eerily calm voice that caused Harry to stop mid stride and turn to face his second eldest sibling. Her face was blank and her eyes hard as she spoke, but the aura she was giving of clearly conveyed what she expected from him in this situation.

Obedience.

He always knew that Rose was capable of being harsh and authoritative when the situation called for it, but she didn't like to show it so Harry rarely saw this side of her. And had she spoken these words not two minutes earlier, and Harry may well have caved under the pressure and at least tried to appease his siblings. But unfortunately for Rose, her young brother was now fully committed to his objective, and not even her chastising would stop him.

"No, Rose. I won't. I'm through with this conversation, so don't even try to say anything else.

And don't try and talk to me until your heads are out of your arses."

And with that he resumed his walk, his strides more confident and purposeful than they had ever been, much to the horror and shock of his siblings.

And the absolute delight of one on-looking figure.

---

(Later that evening, with Harry)

Harry couldn't help but growl in frustration as the staircases slowly changed so that he would be able to reach the location of his detention. The damned stairs seemed to be bloody keen on making everyone's life as annoying and miserable as possible by constantly changing where they were: often leading to students getting trapped for ages until they changed back.

And right now, the seemingly sentient staircases seemed dead-set on pissing Harry off and making him as late as possible for his detention with Professor Quirrel. The moment his feet had hit solid and unchanging ground again, the youngest Potter quickly broke into a fast jog down the corridor that would lead him to his assigned room, all whilst letting his mind wonder free to the events that had transpired earlier today.

After breaking free from his siblings and their infuriating interference, Harry had not returned to the Great Hall in the best of moods: something that his present company quickly picked up on. After assuring them that he had ignored the words of his siblings, the group had proceeded to switch their conversation from such a sensitive topic to far more mundane things such as Quidditch, the newest spells and their first impressions of the school thus far. Any other time and Harry would have considered such chatter idle and completely pointless: but given the near argument he had not long ago, anything was a welcome distraction.

And that lasted until their afternoon lessons: Transfiguration and 'History of magic'. The former was merely a safety lesson in which McGonagall had them all learn what she expected of them, along with proper safety procedures. After all, whilst Transfiguration was not as dangerous as any of the Destruction magics that existed (as Harry could firmly attest to) or even Alchemy, it was still one of the most dangerous subject at Hogwarts. And that meant safety had to come first: even if you were a magical child and knew what you were doing already.

History of Magic on the other hand, had been almost a complete waste of time. The old ghost who taught the subject, Professor Binns, had briefly outlined the course for the year: starting off with the history of humanity and the three factions, and finishing with their role in the legendary 'Great War'. However, the monotone ghost had also managed to stray from his introduction and onto a prank that he had played whilst he was alive. Naturally, that whittled out the time until the bell rang and he kicked them out so that they could go to dinner.

'I hope we actually start some material next time. I'm bloody fed-up of listening to all of this nonsense: I just want to do something interesting!' The young man thought to himself agitatedly, before eventually arriving outside of the door he had first entered in order to reach Quirrel's classroom.

Stopping at the door, Harry couldn't help but let a small wave of suspicion and foreboding to roll over his mind when he reached the door. Pulling his hand away from the handle, Harry took several steps back from the door before mulling over the sudden paranoia that had overcome is mind.

'Something is not right here. Something is not right at all. There's something fishy going on here, but I can't go back and ask for any help because I'll just get in trouble with the teachers, and I can't stand out here like a lemon, on the off-chance that I'm right…

No, somethings wrong here. I need to trust myself and my instincts: because if I can't even do that, then how can I expect to become the strongest wizard to have ever lived.

Alright then, I need a plan.'

Closing his eyes momentarily, Harry quickly recalled as much information as he could about the room before he began to plan for a worst-case possible scenario. Eventually, after several seconds of thought, the youngest male Potter took a deep breath and strode towards the door, whilst subtly charging magic into his body so that he would be able to immediantly retaliate the moment something went wrong.

The room itself was still as well lit as it had been earlier, and the tables and chairs had been restored to their original positions. Everything appeared to be almost normal….. except for one thing.

'Where's Quirrel?'

And it was a fait question to ask. The legendary mercenary was no-where to be seen in the room, despite its normal appearance. That put Harry instantly on-guard the moment he realised it: after all, the man was apparently very punctual, so the chances of him being late to a detention were incredibly slim. So it was with a small, calming breath that Harry walked into the room, eyes gently scanning the room as he entered, scanning for potential threats. And whilst his eyes did not see any…

"SHIT!"

His sense most certainly did.

The moment his eyes faced the right hand side of the room, Harry felt a spike of magical energy that was most certainly not his own. As such, the youngest Potter immediantly threw himself to the floor behind several desks just as a moderately sized ball of fire sailed into the space where his torso had just been.

The moment his body hit the floor and his mind registered consciously that it was now in combat, Harry's thoughts were replaced by simple tactical awareness and the plan that he had come up with upon entering the room.

Scrambling along the floor, Harry kept moving until he finally reached a rather heavy looking desk that was nearer the front of the classroom and would offer him some protection. Whilst the damned thing may catch fire, it would at least stop a fireball from ripping straight through Harry by dampening its kinetic energy. It wasn't much: but in these types of situations, any cover tended to be good cover.

Pressing his back against the desks side, Harry immediately waved his right hand, generating a silver magical seal underneath his body which then proceeded to encase his form in a thin silver outline that soon faded. It was a simple noise-cancelling spell that illusion mages could use in order to mask the sounds of their movements, and therefore offer them the opportunity to surprise their opponent with a far more aggressive spell when the chance arose.

Spell in place, Harry charged his magic once again before leaning out from his cover, and firing several low-powered bolts of lightning into various areas of the room. The plan was to try and force the opponent to retaliate and therefore give Harry the chance to begin cornering them before finishing them off with a blast of his destruction magic. Unfortunately for Harry, his opponent seemed to have reflexes that defied the laws of nature, for the moment he finished his final attack, Harry was forced to duck back into cover as a far more powerful bolt of lightning slammed into the wall behind him. Brining his arms up, the youngest male Potter was forced to protect his eyes and ears from damage due to the dust and shrapnel that the spell had produced.

The moment the barrage of debris stopped, Harry brought his hands up and allowed another magical seal to form in-front of him. However, the effects of the spell this time were far more different; for instead of manipulating the elements or silencing his movements, Harry's action instead produced a copy of himself.

It was a Japanese spell known as a 'Bushin' or 'Flash Clone' in Europe. It was simply a copy of a person that was completely intangible, couldn't interact with the world and could be dispelled with little effort. And yet despite these flaws, Flash Clones were exceptionally useful as they were easy to make and could cause enough of a distraction for a mage to implement another spell.

Taking a deep breath, Harry allowed his mind and soul to settle before he sent the clone away from where his assailant was, whilst he charged towards them.

As he expected the figure rose up and ignored the real Harry in favour of the fake one, assuming that he was trying to confuse his opponent with a pathetic ruse: when in actuality they were being double-bluffed. The figure was wearing all-black and grey combat robes and armour, indicating that this person was some sort of professional, whilst a hood concealed the man's face (if the assigned gender was correct, judging by the person's frame).

The hooded figure unleashed a powerful fireball again which would have smashed straight into the Flash Clone's body, but instead simply phased through it and into the wall behind, whilst causing the clone to dispel into a small cloud of mist. The figure took a step back in slight shock as they realised what had just happened, and before they could even think about reacting, Harry launched a far more intense barrage of powerful bolts of lightning. The attacks flashed across the gap between the two humans with such speed that Harry was certain that they would find their mark.

However, that certainty was crushed when the figure brought their hands together and a bright-green magical circle appeared in front of them with a think green field in-front of it, shielding the figure from the furious lightning bolts by either deflecting them or simply taking the hits and refusing to shatter. The sight left Harry utterly dumbstruck for several moments as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. There should have been no way for his opponent to dodge, let alone throw up a shield of that power. In fact, Harry was so dumbstruck by his opponents physical prowess that he failed to notice the returning shot until it was far too late.

Pumping what magic he could into his body, Harry tried to brace himself for the incoming bolts of lightning. Yet despite his best efforts, the best that the young Potter heir could manage to do was not scream out in agony as his entire body spazemed as it was sent flying through the air. The impacts themselves had caused Harry's bones to creak and groan under the strain, much in the same manner the back of his ribs and his spine groaned when he slammed into the wall behind him. And if that wasn't bad enough for Harry, not only was the air driven from his lungs by the impact, but his head also took a strong enough blow to give the young Potter male a concussion.

'Shit…. I…..I can't…..see straight.'

Harry's head was spinning and his stomach felt as if it was ready to release its contents back up his throat within seconds. His vision had taken on a sickly yellow tint that just helped to compound in Harry's mind just how dangerous his situation had now become.

'Fuck! This arsehole's completely outclassing me. I doubt they'd be stupid enough to let me escape, so my only chance of making it through this is to land a lucky shot and take this shit-head down before he can kill me.' Harry thought to himself as calmly and clearly as he could, given his situation and physical condition. His mind was mostly in disarray right now, but the one thing that he knew for certain was that he needed to buy himself some time so that he could clear his head and formulate an actual plan.

So turning his gaze upwards, Harry unleashed several powerful bolts of lightning at the ceiling above him: specifically at the chandeliers that provided the room with its light. The moment the spells struck, the entire room was plunged into an inky darkness that Harry quickly took advantage of.

Carefully crawling along the floor, he used the cover of the darkness to maneuverer himself until he was finally hidden firmly behind Quirrel's desk. He took several deep breaths in an effort to try and steady his unstable vision, but he found his efforts to be futile as it refused to settle down for even a split second.

'Damn it! I must've hit my head far harder than I thought. This really isn't a good situation to be in: but it's not impossible. I just have to keep thinking and stay alive long enough to put any thoughts into practice.

There's always a way out of a situation: you've just got to search for it.'

After finally somewhat settling his nerves, Harry went to move from behind his cover, but before he could do so, he was once again forced to dive back behind his make-shift cover as a veritable storm of spells slammed into the air above where his head had just been, showering the area behind the desk in a thick coating of dust and shrapnel that teared Harry's exposed skin. Gritting his teeth, Harry let forth a string of cusses as his position was continuously pounded for several more seconds before the spell fire abated. Realizing that his opponent had managed to pin him down, Harry couldn't help but narrow his eyes slightly in confusion.

'How the hell did the arsehole see me? Unless…..'

With realization suddenly striking him, Harry allowed himself several more moments of peace, before he began to strain his vision in an attempt to try and find something to pop over the top of Quirrel's desk. He had an idea as to how his opponent had managed to corner him so quickly, but it would take one piece of evidence for him to confirm his theory.

Grabbing a hold of a thick chunk of rock, Harry threw it straight up into the air, only to watch it get blasted into dust by a fireball from the right of the room. Smirking to himself, Harry released another bout of magic into his Flash Clone spell, this time creating three clones instead of one. It put a dent in his magical reserves, but it didn't drain enough to make the next stage of his plan unviable.

Immediantly summoning forth more magic, Harry soon found himself under greater mental exertion as he focused on creating not one, but two magical seals: one silver and the other a pure white that actually emitted a large amount of magical power. Harry had poured a good deal of his remaining magical reserves into this spell: this was an all or nothing gamble. His opponent had the speed, agility, magical power and reserves advantage over him, which left him only with his potential intellect advantage. It wasn't a lot to go with, but great Wizards had to make do with what they had in tight situations.

'And I'm going to be a great Wizard.'

Using brief mental commands, Harry immediantly sent out his three Flash clones in different directions. Gently peaking his head out from behind his cover, Harry waited until he finally saw what he was looking for.

A magical seal.

It wasn't large at all: perhaps no bigger than two palms placed side by side. However, it was large enough and colourful enough to be visible against the inky blackness that had enveloped the room.

And it was enough.

Thrusting his right hand forward, Harry immediantly averted his gaze as a bright white light was shot forth from the silver magical seal, bathing the room in the light of day as he called out the name of the spell.

"Lumos!"

After several seconds, when the light from the 'Lumos' had dimmed somewhat, Harry turned around and found exactly what he was looking for. His opponent crying out in pain and confusion whilst vigorously rubbing his eyes.

'Looks like he was using a night-eye spell to see in the dark. Good thing it functions like the muggle goggles, otherwise I'd be a sitting duck right now.' Harry thought to himself with a small sense of satisfaction before thrusting his left hand forward, pumping even more magic into the spell to ensure that this would be the decisive blow. Harry knew very well that this could potentially kill his assailant, but as far as the youngest Potter was concerned, this was now purely about survival. There may have been two people in the room at that moment, but he would be more than happy to half that number right now.

Eventually, after a couple more seconds of increasing the spells power, Harry finally unleashed it …. all whilst uttering one simple word at the same time.

"Crash."

The wave of magic that was unleashed from the seal could only be described as pure destruction. Whilst noted as being not as potent as the legendary power of destruction which was wielded by the Devil clan called the Bael, 'Devastation magic' was easily a match for its Underworld counterpart in terms of the carnage it could rend on its enemies and the environment, as the classroom could attest to.

The attack seemed to cover the room from one wall to the other, presenting nothing more than a pure white wall of untameable magic to Harry's foe. As it sped forwards, it consumed everything in its path like some sort of wild animal. Tables, chairs and countless other objects that were reinforced to be far stronger than their mortal counterparts were completely atomized as the wall of pure destruction turned them into little more than dust or ash, sweeping all before it like a tidal wave.

Ducking back down, Harry barely managed to get back down behind his missing professors desk just as the spell impacted.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The reason behind Harry seeking cover was less about the potential for debris, but rather the potential for pressure damage from the gale-force winds that were produced by the spells ending. The air of the classroom seemed to have been replaced with a small gale as air raced towards Harry at such a pace that it caused even the heavy desk that he was sat behind to inch forward quite a distance. Eventually, the winds died down and Harry decided to take a look at the effects of his final spell. Every single piece of cover in the room had simply been annihilated, whilst the wall at the opposite end of the room now sported countless fissure marks. In fact, it was so damaged that Harry would wager that if he were to throw a rock at it, the entire wall would shatter into a billion pieces.

Smirking to himself, Harry couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief as he realised that he had just beaten his foe.

Or so he thought.

Before he could make his way towards the door and back out into the hallways, Harry barely managed to pick up the sound of someone moving behind him.

And the next thing he knew was darkness.

---

(Twenty minutes later)

Quirinus Quirrel couldn't help but smirk to himself as he turned away from his newly repaired and re-furnished classroom, and towards the young man that had devastated the room so fully.

The first thing that the world-famous mercenary had done upon subduing Harry was to heal any of his potential injuries and make sure that there would be no marks of his test left. Fortunately, the worst injuries that the boy had sustained were little more than a concussion and several large cuts from the debris that had been thrown about the room during the time that the youngest male Potter had fought.

And he fought well indeed.

Quirrel had fought against some of the strongest beings in the supernatural world, and work alongside many more. He had battled and killed prodigies and legendary foes, and he had helped train just as many. And yet none of them had what Harry Potter had: the one thing that Quirrel had been searching for in as he continued to carve his name into the supernatural world.

The spark.

Simply put, 'The spark' was a combination of two things: natural talent and an indomitable will. When either one was taken in isolation, they helped to produce awesome warriors and leaders who would be well remembered. But in order to become a true legend, to be remembered for all time: one had to have both of these traits.

And it was clear to Quirrel that his potential apprentice had both in spades, as indicated by his sorting into Slytherin and his performance in their lesson earlier that same day. The boy also clearly wished to learn from him, if his actions during the first part of the lesson were anything to go by.

The way Harry met his gaze head on and refused to flinch, the answers that he gave and the way he pushed himself showed Quirrel that the boy was certainly worth at least giving an examination: so he decided to use the detention they had scheduled as a means to test the boy when he was thrown into a hostile situation.

And the results were beyond Quirrel's wildest dreams.

From the moment he had stepped into the room, it was clear to the mercenary turned teacher that Harry Potter was no ordinary child. The way he scanned the room, charged his magic and reacted when his 'Shadow Clone' attacked him showed just how much natural potential the boy had, alongside how well he had managed to train himself thus far. That combined with his simple yet brilliant strategies, merciless fighting style and impressive magical power (which made Quirrel thankful he had erected noise and magic suppression wards around the room), gave the legendary mercenary all the evidence he needed to make up his mind.

He would train Harry Potter.

'The boy has the potential to become something truly magnificent: a Mage the likes of which this world has not seen since Merlin or the founders themselves. And if he's to weather the coming storms in his life, then I need to make sure he gets the best start possible.' Quirrel thought to himself within a small, isolated section of his mind. In another part, the man allowed his Occlumency shields to drop slightly so that another presence could enter his mind.

'The boy is strong, Quirinus.' A snake like voice hissed into the portion of his mind that he allowed it access to. Within this portion of his mind, Quirrel allowed a happy and subservient front to interact with the voice.

'He is indeed, my lord. He will make a fine addition to your ranks, should he choose to join us.' Quirrel replied quietly, making sure not to let his true feelings slip into the part of his mind where he was communicating with the voice, which proceeded to let out a small hum of approval at Quirrel's words.

'Yes, yes he will. His drive, ambition and resentment will make him easy to manipulate and use against his family: just like earlier.' The voice hissed gleefully causing Quirrel to snarl angrily within the shielded parts of his mind. He had argued that using Legilimency against the boy may tip him off to someone trying to manipulate him, but the voice of his 'master' had ignored his reasoning and instead launched the attack himself, and planted the seeds of doubt, jealousy and anger within his mind. Now all he could hope for was that Harry Potter was mentally strong enough to endure the coming storm.

'You're the best hope that this world will have now, Harry. I just hope that you can stand strong against the coming storm.' Quirrel thought to himself quietly, before casting an 'envenerate' spell on the boy at the behest of his so-called 'master.'

'Now comes the more difficult part.'

Slipping his face into a neutral mask, Quirrel watched as the boy's body slowly began to wake up. The moment he had regained enough cognitive function, the youngest male Potter's eyes snapped open and his body rolled away from Quirrel before he halted and clambered to his feet: eyes wide and what little magic he had left pulsing through his tired body. The actions caused Quirrel's lips to quirk slightly in both amusement and surprise at the boy's natural instincts.

'Not even I would have been able to react like that at his age.'

The smirk on the mercenaries' lips then grew in size as Harry's mind finally registered who it was he was about to attack, before his brain decided that he needed to say something. However, before he uttered a word, his eyes seemed to catch sight of the rooms 'normalcy'. Eyes narrowing, the young Potter took several steps back before he finally spoke to Quirrel.

"It was you who attacked me."

It wasn't a question: merely a statement of fact.

'Yes, I've made the right choice with you, Harry.'

"Indeed it was, Mr Potter." He replied neutrally, eliciting narrowed eyes from the young man and a small flaring of his magical power.

"Why?"

"To test you." The reply Quirrel gave was as blunt and simplistic as Harry's question. When the boy's body refused to relax, Quirrel let out a small sigh before he decided to try and assuage the boys paranoia.

"We both know that if I wanted to kill you, I could have done so without giving you the chance to fight back."

Harry's eyes hardened for several seconds before he slowly reigned in control of his magical power, forcing it back into his tired frame. However, he still kept his eyes fixed firmly on Quirrel, and refused to allow his blank mask to drop from his face. The two of them stood there for a while in an oddly agreeable silence: each trying to ascertain a better understanding of the person opposite them. Eventually, Harry seemed to find what he was looking for (or merely refused to stand in silence any longer), and thus decided to speak.

"So why did you want to test me?"

"To see if you are what I am looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to make you my apprentice, Harry Potter."

That seemed to snap the boy out of his cold mask, if only slightly, as his eyes widened slightly in shock whilst his lips parted ever so slightly. Realising that he had the boy's attention, he decided to press onwards.

"I know you want to study under my direct tutelage, Mr Potter: your little unsubtle courage test earlier proved that much to me." He responded dryly, earning a small smile from the young Potter, who had the decency to look a little bit sheepish at being caught so easily. When he asked again whether or not he wished to study under him, the young Potter nodded his head eagerly. However, there was one final thing that Quirrel needed to check before he fully committed himself to teaching the boy, instead of his elder siblings like her originally planned to.

"Tell me, boy. Why do you want to study under me: and don't try to say that your reasons are your own. Either you tell me now, or you walk away with nothing."

Quirrel knew that the boy would try to hide his true nature for as long as possible, deny his intentions and attempt to camouflage it. But the simple truth was that he and Harry were of the same stock: the only type of people who could truly understand one another fully. He wanted to be nothing less than the very best wizard to have ever lived, just like Quirrel himself. Or at least that was the vibe that he got from the boy. He had been wrong before, after all.

He just hoped he was right this time.

The young Potter stood there for a while, frowning as he weighed up Quirrel's words before finally responding to them.

"I've always been …. different from the rest of my family," Harry said hesitantly, as if unsure as to how to best communicate his thoughts on the matter, "I've never been as smart as my sisters or as good as my brother at Quidditch, but I've always been a better fighter than them. And a better strategist and liar too."

Harry's words were calm and even now as he slowly found the confidence to put his feelings into words. After several seconds of quiet, the boy finally continued with his speech.

"My mother and father don't seem to care about my talents though, and just focus on my siblings instead. I don't know if it's because it goes against their pacifistic nature and they don't like it, or if they ignore me simply because they favour my siblings. But what I do know is that I'm fed-up of living in the shadow of my siblings! Hell, my little sister is more well-known than me, despite the fact she's never been to an official function.

Everywhere I go its 'I didn't know the Potters had another child' or 'You must be just like your siblings. I'm sick of it! I just want to be recognised as my own person: as Harry Potter, the fourth child of the Potter family. Not as Harry Potter: the mediocre little brother to Iris, Rose and Alex Potter and the older brother of the girl who lived."

By this point, Harry had slowly begun to discard the calm façade he had been wearing earlier, in favour of allowing years of pent-up anger to swell forth from his soul, much to the delight of the voice in Quirrel's mind.

'I did not realise just how deep his feelings were on the matter. This is excellent, he will be far easier to manipulate than I first thought.' It hissed gleefully. However, before Quirrel could respond to the voice, Harry's increasingly passionate voice filled the silent air once more.

"So I plan to forge my own path in this world of ours. I don't care if I have to make a deal with Sirzech Lucifer himself, I will surpass everything that my siblings accomplish. I will surpass the feats of you, Voldamort, Dumbledore, the founders and even Merlin himself! I will become the strongest mage to have ever walked the Earth…..

Or I will die trying."

The final five words were uttered as little more than a whisper, but they carried more weight than any other spoken before them. Within the shielded part of his mind, Quirrel couldn't help but smirk mentally in satisfaction at the boy's answer.

'He's just like me when I was his age.'

Taking several steps closer to the young Potter, Quirrel made sure that his glare was fully fixed on the boy's own violet orbs. And just as he anticipated, the boy's gaze did not waver once as Quirrel strode closer and closer to him, eventually coming to a stop only half a foot away, his powerful frame towering over the diminutive first-year.

The two of them stood there for what seemed like hours until Quirrel finally allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he broke the tense silence that had filled the room.

"You shall meet me by the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, which can be found in the seventh floor corridor on the left hand side tomorrow evening after dinner. Tell no-one of your lessons with me, or they shall end…Harry. If asked where you are going, say that you are going to ask me some questions regarding the homework I shall set you tomorrow.

Now off with you, before curfew comes into effect."

The young Potter nodded before he swiftly made his way to the door. Upon reaching it, he turned around and offered his new master a tame fair-well before disappearing into the corridor outside of Quirrel's room. Said ex-mercenary continued to stare at the door for a while before he allowed one final stray thought to cross his mind as he turned to his desk with the intention of devising a training programme for his new apprentice.

'I just hope I can prepare him in time. The path to the summit of this world is a long and dangerous one. I suppose I can only pray now that he'll be strong enough to make the tough choices when they come…..

Especially if this country is to survive what is to come.'

---

A/N:

And there we have it ladies and gentlemen.

Now like I said earlier, I plan on keeping the chapters of a length between 10-15K if they're a 'standard' chapter. But major battles and duels will enter the 20K plus territory, just so that we can cover a lot more action in a single chapter, whilst also making them more epic in nature!

I know not too much has happened in terms of exploring the links between the DxD, Geass and Potter worlds, but there isn't much point as of yet. Chapter four will be where most of the 'revised' history will be revealed, with a small amount being given to you in chapter three. It's annoying, I know, but the simple fact of the matter is that I have to do it when it's convenient for story-telling; far too often, history lessons are just thrust into a story in an effort to just deal with it, and this ruins the scene as the 'info dump' is both poorly written and inorganic to the scene (i.e. : It doesn't fit). I'm trying to avoid this by placing the 'history lesson' in a far more convenient place: so please bear with me for a little while longer!

That aside, I'd like to know what you guys thought of the fight scene. I haven't written too many in my time, so I'm still trying to get my style down for them fully, but I like to think I'm getting closer to solidifying it. Along with that, I'd also like to hear what you thought of the POV changes this chapter. I know they were small, but again doing any more would mess with the flow, but I did try to get some more perspectives involved, as well as showing some more magic. If it wasn't quite enough, tell me what you want: more commonplace use or just flashier magic in the scuffles Harry's involved in. Like I said, I like to try and respond to feedback: but I do need some sort of idea as to what you want to see so I know what I need to alter :) !

And~ I think that's everything, folks! So for now I'll finish like I always do. Remember to drop a review to tell me what you liked about this chapter and what you didn't like so much. And if you enjoyed the chapter and haven't done so already, then make sure to drop a fave or a follow (or maybe even both) so that you never miss any of the action. After all, don't you want to know who's side Quirrel is really on? Or what he has in store for Harry?

If you want to know, you know what to do!

Right, I'm off now to work on the next chapter.

Peace,

Mantis.

(P.S: I know that the way I described the 'Bushin' wasn't really in-keeping with Naruto lore, but I changed it so that it suits my needs as a low-level illusion spell. And don't worry, the names and effects of techniques are the only thing that I'll be using from Naruto: so no BS acquisition of the Sharingan to worry about or Naruto stealing every single woman in the world for himself with his god-like powers XD ! )