Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and can't get money for this, but I can make him into a Mafia Prince.

Warning: Some chapters (the ones including pranks) might not be appropriate to read at work. Laughter may ensue leading your co-workers to see you as even more insane than they previously thought.

Chapter 4: Mistakes of Parenthood

The Headmistress stood there gaping like an extremely fat fish that had eaten a disgustingly juicy worm attached to a hook that had been reeled in to leave the fish gasping in futilely for air. Harry decided that this would make the perfect time to exit and perhaps the woman would learn to never go up against a Darkov in the future, though with the way the stupidity rate of the general population kept rising it was a slim hope.

"Good day Headmistress Chauvez," he smirked and left, "do let me know how your nephew's nose is, with some much blood pouring from his face I couldn't tell if it was broken or not, though it sounded as if it was."

Blaise was waiting outside when Harry opened the door and was able to catch the parting remark Harry made to the Headmistress and catch the stunned face. With a snicker Blaise fell in beside Harry demanding details as they leisurely made their way back to their class.

By lunch the entire fifth year seemed to know what had gone on inside of the Headmistress' office and many were congratulating Harry on so far avoiding expulsion while Chris' cronies were sneering at Harry in a hateful manner. By the end of the day it seemed that the whole school knew and Blaise was ready to pull some twits hair out. If she heard one more idiotic female tell Harry how brave he must have been to go up against the evil Headmistress she was going to pull out her guns, no, forget the guns, she was going to start rearranging some of those pretty faces with her bare hands. Finally Harry and Blaise managed to make it to the car where their guard was waiting to take them home.

"You sure took that bi—uh—fish down a peg today Mr. Darkov," the guard greeted him with semi-formality as most of them were prone to do, "She's a worse hag now then she was when I had her for a teacher. Here, got a present for you."

The guard reached over onto the front seat next to him and flipped a small tape back at Harry and Blaise.

Blaise stared at the tape with an evil grin, "is that…?"

The guard nodded, "bugged her office with video and sound equipment the first day of school."

Blaise and Harry grinned at each other before slapping the guard companionably on the back, "wicked."

The drive home was spent with Blaise and Harry playing and replaying the office meeting on a specially designed viewing screen in the backseat of the car, with powerful connections came luxuries unknown to most.

At the Darkov mansion, or home as it was fondly referred to by both Harry and Blaise, they raced through the entrance hall, dropping their school bags as they went, heading for the stables and their horses. Only to be intercepted. They were almost free when Trevor stepped from the shadows, blocking the back door.

"Your headmistress called," Trevor informed Harry, "requesting a conference with you and Manuel on Monday. He is waiting for you in his study."

Harry groaned; there went his day and most likely his weekend. He had been hoping for a few free hours with no pressure on him but that of being a kid. Now though he would have to deal with his father who would be upset over the pending conference even if he wasn't expelled, and then he would be sent to Sensei to train his discipline. And it wasn't training in fighting he would be given, but annoying meditation techniques and exercises in keeping his emotions under wraps. Last time he had been forced to stand and hold a heavy book straight out at shoulder level while Sensei said things to anger him while occasionally lashing out with a stick. If he showed emotion or gave into retaliation the lesson started again. A Darkov must always be composed in public unless it was a rare occasion such as their annual father-son outing to the amusement park or some other such informal recreation.

Harry sighed, his father wasn't a hard man, not all the time. If you could get past the hard Darkov exterior you would find a warm and loving man, but Manuel made sure that people rarely saw that side of him, even his son barely saw that side of him except on occasion. It was tough being the heir to the Mafia throne and the expectations that went with it. Sometimes Harry didn't know what he would do without Blaise and Trevor. Blaise was his best friend and Trevor was like an uncle to him. Sure Trevor was just as hard as Manuel at times, but he at least gave comfort when it was needed without holding himself in reserve though to give his father credit he was getting better at the parenting thing.

In a nearly visible sulk Harry entered his father's study and flopped into a chair. Right now he didn't care if he was putting himself in a position where he was giving his father superiority over him, stuff like that shouldn't matter when something was just between him and his father. Besides, the second part of the superiority lesson was how to gain the upper hand when you had put yourself and remained in a submissive position, not that he thought it would work against his father as Manuel had been his main teacher in such lessons.

"Harry," Manuel sighed, "your headmistress called complaining of your rude attitude and disrespect. Can't you stay out of trouble just for once? You need to be around other kids and getting expelled isn't going to make that happen."

Harry shoved his hands inside of his pockets, didn't his father think he knew that; he knew that he needed to be around kids his own age, sort of a balance to his training. He knew that as well as he knew he had to watch his back every time he set foot off of Darkov grounds, knew that no matter how many guards surrounded him he was always vulnerable in some way. And he hadn't been disrespectful, but he also was not going to betray his upbringing in order to let others walk over him so they could feel their own superiority. Manuel was berating him for doing exactly what he had been raised to do and believe in, it was bloody hypocritical of him.

Harry's fist clenched inside his pocket, he could never seem to do things right sometimes, something hard cut into his hand. The tape.

"Here," Harry snapped practically slamming the tape down on the desk, it hurt that his dad hadn't even asked his side of the story before berating him, "here is an intelligence recording of today's conflict retrieved from the state-of-the-art espionage equipment from your very own lab."

Manuel saw the hurt in his son's eyes as the boy left, but resisted going after him. With a heavy feeling that he had royally screwed everything up Manuel reviewed the tape taken from the spy devices one of the guards had planted in the Headmistress' office. Dejectedly Manuel placed his head in his hands; he was right, he had really messed up with Harry a few moments ago. The boy he had seen on the tape was more mature than any kid had the right to be, Harry had handled everything like a true Darkov and Manuel had doubted him on the words of a woman he didn't truly know just because she was supposed to be an unbiased authority figure. He wondered if this is how his father had felt when put into similar situations by his older brother and himself.

Harry was upset, angry, and near tears as he stormed out of his fathers office. He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't matter he just wanted to get away. His fingers twisted helplessly in the chain of the pendant around his neck, the Darkov crest. Angrily he ripped at it until the chain snapped and crest fell to the floor with a clatter to be left behind as his feet unconsciously carried him forward. Somewhere down the hall he heard Blaise call after him but his feet only sped up and he burst outside into the evening air, at that moment he wanted nothing more than to get away from everyone and let his emotions run rampant. The sound of his sneakers hitting the ground was answered by the comforting whickers of the horses. None of the stable hands were around as Harry quickly fitted Azrael with a bit and reins before scrambling on the stallions back. Blaise came bursting into the stables as Harry spurred Azrael out into the open fields.

"Harry," Blaise cried, "Hhhaarrryyyy…"

But Harry was free, the wind blowing across his face and cutting through his thin shirt as the tears finally came pouring free without anyone to see his weakness.

Blaise burst back into the house at a full run yelling frantically, "Dad! Manuel! Daaadddd!"

Trevor heard his daughter's frantic cries and ran to her, praying everything was alright, that she wasn't hurt. In his study Manuel roused at hearing his name being shouted and tensed, none of the alarms had gone off so the problem was internal. Horror filled Manuel, he could hear Blaise still yelling but there was no sound from Harry. Where was Harry? Harry and Blaise were almost never apart lately.

Manuel nearly flew through the halls following the cries, men following in his wake, ready for action. Suddenly Manuel dropped to the floor next to Trevor who was trying to calm Blaise.

"Where's Harry?" Manuel's voce was filled with terror, "where is he?"

It was all Manuel could do not to shake the answers he needed out of the upset girl.

"Gone," the word chilled Manuel, "he was upset. He took off on Azrael as if he were being chased."

Manuel's eyes closed in anguish, his son had run off because of him. He stood quickly, he had to make things right and fast before something happened to his precious angel.

"Dress warmly," he instructed the men, "bring lights and get to the stables. Trevor, try and get a lock on the tracer."

Moments later Trevor was radioing in to give the foreboding news of Harry's abandoned tracer and Manuel ordered the search to be picked up a notch. They had managed to pinpoint a section of the forest where Harry was from following Azrael's hoof-prints, but it was too large an area and night had fallen bringing a chill to the air.

"Harry!" Manuel shouted for what seemed to be the millionth time, his voice going hoarse as he played his light through the thick trees.

They had been searching for hours and hope was beginning to fail. Another hour passed and Manuel picked up his radio, intending to send half the search party back to be replaced with fresh men, he would keep looking but it was getting too cold for those who had been out there the whole time to safely keep going for much longer without rest.

"Dear gods," Manuel prayed in a rare gesture at religion, "let Harry be safe, let him be well."

The radio crackled as if answering his prayer and a shout came from somewhere to his left, "we found him."

The position was rattled off and Manuel spurred his horse through the forest following the guiding shouts, ignoring the rest of the message and heedless of the branches that whipped at his face.