Summary: After running away from the Dursleys at a young age, he learned to survive on his own. Faced by the cruelties of a harsh world, he fought for his freedom. Challenged by those above him, he killed for his power. Discovered by the world that betrayed him, he was forced to accept his destiny. But a person can change a lot over eleven years, and Harry Potter has become something they would never expect.
Acerbus Angelus: Dark Angel
"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice informed them as the lift stopped on the bottom level of the Ministry. They stepped out into a corridor where nothing was moving save the dancing flames of the nearest torch, flickering in the rush of air that accompanied the lift.
"Albus!"
At the exclamation, all five wizards raised their wands in reflex. Only to lower them when they recognized the young man with silver-streaked hair.
"Lysander," the Headmaster greeted his former student. "We came at Nymphadora's call."
"Of course," the aforementioned Lysander said as he reached the Order members. The young man nodded to Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Remus, and Sirius respectively, having met them at previous Order meetings.
Several Unspeakables had joined the cause after the death of Broderick Bode, their colleague murdered in St. Mungo's last winter.
"Follow me," the Unspeakable said, leading them through the stone corridors of the Ministry's most secretive branch.
"We responded to an alarm charm that went off in the Prophecy Room," Lysander said, opening a door with a murmured password. "It was the one you suggested we place on the 'Potter Orb'.
Sirius and Remus gasped slightly, while Moody's eye spun even faster. Lysander just looked to the Headmaster, who eyes had lost some of the twinkle, and continued at Albus' nod.
"When we arrived, the wards had been disabled and Tonks was unconsciousness.
"She was alright," the Unspeakable quickly reassured them, seeing the worry on their faces. "We sent her over to Mungo's with Marcus Phelps. He got hit with some sort of curse, broke a few ribs."
"Did you manage to catch the perpetrator?" Moody growled, magical eye spinning in what appeared to be, oddly enough, excitement. The grizzled ex-Auror was already reliving his glory days. Dark wizards around every corner, each stranger an assassin in disguise.
"Yes, we managed to catch him," Lysander said, opening a nondescript black door that led to an office. Surprisingly, there was a small smile playing at the man's mouth
"Were you able to identify them?" Albus asked, controlling his impatience. The younger man seemed to take pleasure in knowing what his former Headmaster did not.
The Unspeakable hummed an affirmative, his eyes shifting to Sirius for some reason.
"We were," Lysander said. "It was quite easy, in fact."
Ignoring the others annoyance, the silver haired man tapped one of the office walls in a rapid pattern, muttering a few words under his breath. To the surprise of all save Kingsley and Moody, the wood paneling vanished completely, leaving a transparent wall in its wake.
It was a two-way wall, similar to the large mirrors found in muggle interrogation rooms. It allowed them to view suspects, while the person on the other side would just see a plane mirror.
Or in the case of magical innovation, a regular wall.
On the other side was a nondescript white room with a wooden table in the center. On opposite sides of the table was a chair built of a similar material.
It wasn't the chairs that made the five newcomers gasp in shock though, but the person sitting in one.
Facing the two-way wall was a handsome young man with shoulder length black hair. He had emerald eyes that were rather familiar.
There was a scar visible on his forehead, in the shape of a lightening bolt.
"Harry?"
Preservative instincts.
Those weresomething Harry developed all on his own. They had been necessary; as a young boy trying to survive in an unforgiving world. His time at the Dursleys had been hell, but he realized one thing. The lessons that he learned then, made him the person he was today.
A survivor.
There had been other 'lessons' over the years. Things that were taught by others or that he picked-up himself. Over time, these had accumulated, until they became a mental guidebook of sorts. Rules to which he adhered. And one in particular was of the utmost importance.
Never get caught.
He learned that one soon after leaving the Dursleys, when he discovered that his scar brought unwanted attention. And the inevitable questions that followed. Seeing as that rule was already broken though, he could quickly move on to the next.
If caught, escape.
The walls were completely white in color. The chamber devoid of anything save a wooden table and two chairs. An interrogation room if he had ever seen one.
Unfortunately, Harry Potter had.
As such, he knew the routine and what to expect. He also knew what to look for. If he cocked his head just right, he could see the slight glimmer on the wall opposite him, telltale sign of a Two-way Charm. It had been developed by an eccentric American Auror back in the 60's; she had been overly obsessed with muggle spy novels.
It was a rather complicated and obscure bit of magic, and for some inane reason, restricted. Harry had only come across it once over the years, and the circumstances then were similar to the one he was in now.
Disturbingly so.
A door on the left side of the room swung open, and in walked three men, all wearing nondescript gray robes. Entirely too nondescript. There was no insignia on them whatsoever, which gave Harry reason to frown. He knew of only one type of Ministry worker that didn't advertize what Department they belonged to.
Unspeakables.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the man in the lead said. He was of middle age, with blue eyes and wavy brown hair. "Its been a rather exciting afternoon, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry merely stared at the wall, showing no reaction whatsoever. He had been interrogated before, by creatures not opposed to inflicting bodily harm. These Unspeakables could do no worse.
They would get what answers he threw them.
Brushing off the lack of response, the brown haired man took a seat in the remaining chair, and pointed to his two companions, a dark skinned man and one with hair that was, oddly enough, green.
"The man on the left, Mr. Potter, is Arrian Marshal, Level Seven Unspeakable. The one on the right is Armand Green, Level Five Unspeakable.
"My name is Calius Croaker," the man said, placing two wands on the table that Harry recognized as his own. "The Deputy Director of the Department of Mysteries."
Harry supposed he should have been impressed. But at the present time, the only thing he could ponder was why a man named Green would allow his hair to be the same color.
And why place his wands right before him? He could have summoned them with a mental thought. The sight of his wands though, caused Harry to remember something else, and emerald eyes widened ever so slightly.
Turning his foot carefully to avoid detection, he felt the hilt of a knife press against his ankle. Repeating the motion with the opposite foot, he realized his dagger was in that one as well.
Harry nearly snorted. The fools!
They had disarmed him of the obvious, and in doing so, had missed the blade in each boot and the potions belt at his waist. Of course, that may have had something to do with the numerous Parsel glamour charms that concealed them from unwanted eyes.
"You were caught in the Department of Mysteries this afternoon, Mr. Potter," the man, Croaker, continued. "Under rather mysterious circumstances if I may say so myself."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that. Caught in the Department of Mysteries under mysterious circumstances by people, who for a living, solve mysteries.
Lovely, was it not?
"You have been charged with trespassing, disabling Ministry wards, robbery, destruction of property, and assault of a Ministry employee."
Assault! The bloke would have a collapsed lung at worst! And destruction of property? Did that mean the orb was broken?
Broken?
Emerald eyes widening slightly once more, and Harry shifted in his seat, clandestinely getting a feel of the chairs weight. Not to heavy, but rather sturdy. It would work well. He would have to grasp it by the back of course, and be quick with the. . . . . . .
"You, yourself, disappeared from your guardian's home eleven years ago, Mr. Potter," the Croaker bloke said, dragging Harry from his quickly formatting plan. "The circumstances surrounding the event are rather unclear, but if you're willing to answers our questions, I'm pretty sure tonight's charges can be dropped."
Harry really didn't give a shit what the bloke was pretty sure about. He did need a distraction though.
"One of our colleagues is at St. Mungo's in serious condition, Mr. Potter," Croaker said, getting annoyed at Harry lack of response. "A most unfortunate incident, and the Unspeakables protect their own."
Showtime! Harry thought, planting his feet just right.
"Tell that to Rookwood," he said quietly, gripping the chair behind his back with one hand.
Whether it was surprise at finally hearing him speak, or anger at the traitor's name, something caused all three Unspeakables to freeze momentarily, giving Harry the opportunity needed.
Rising to his feet with graceful speed, he threw the chair at the Unspeakables near the door. It took the green haired one by surprise, hitting him directly in the face and causing a nasty 'crunch'.
Blood poured from the man's crushed noise, and the momentum of the blow sent him into his partner.
Turning back to Croaker, Harry shoved the heavy table into the man's stomach, and summoned each of his wands with a thought. The slender pieces of wood flew into his hands, and he pivoted, hitting Marshal and Green with a stunner each.
"Naytrus," Harry muttered, pointing the left hand wand at Croaker as the wheezing man went for his own. Heavy metal chains flew out of the tip, wrapping tightly around the Deputy Director, and sending him to the floor.
The door to the interrogation room burst open, and an Unspeakable with silver-streaked hair ran in, followed by a dark skinned man and one with a magical eye.
"Droknar!" Harry shouted, sending all three crashing into the hallway with an illegal Bludgeoning Curse. With a sickening crunch, they slid to the floor, unconscious.
Harry jumped through the door after them, hurdling over their bodies and skidding to a halt as a tall, dark haired man ran out of a nearby room. He froze in place, as did the older man. They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other intently.
There was something oddly familiar about the elegant black hair, gray eyes and dog-like scent. Something he couldn't put his wand on. Frowning slightly, Harry suddenly remembered where he was.
"Stupefy."
The stunner hit the man straight in the chest, and he was unconscious before he had time to react. Unfortunately, the earlier commotion seemed to have alerted the entire Department, and office doors flung open as Harry ran down the stone corridors, sending curses over his shoulder.
It was all too familiar.
Dodging a powerful stunner that came from behind, he elbowed an unlucky Unspeakable in the face as they were rasing their wand. He dove into the open office, utilizing what little cover the doorway provided.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry muttered, flicking his wand in the simple flying charm. The unconscious Unspeakable rose a few feet off the ground, and Harry floated him into the open hallway.
"Amplifico Pello!" The Advanced Banishing Charm sent the Unspeakable flying down the corridor, knocking over his comrades and eliciting a series of indignant swears.
Harry snorted.
Spells and power were all well and good, but it was innovation that won a duel. Something he learned firsthand over the years.
Of course, Harry reminded himself, a fair bit of luck never hurt.
Coming to a dead end corridor, he swore softly in half a dozen tongues. A shout from behind alerted him, and he ducked in time to avoid the volley of stunners.
Thinking fast, Harry pointed both wands at the wall to his left. "Flagan Drastio!" he shouted, and twin curses erupted from the ends, causing the slender wands to buckle. Memories of Moscow flashed through his mind as the dark beams hit, tearing apart the masonry and leaving a gaping hole behind.
Harry didn't hesitate, but dove through the hole in the wall head first, narrowly missing a dozen more stunners. He rolled onto his feet and came up with wands in hand, a series of curses on the tip of his tongue.
Only to find himself in an empty office. Raising an eyebrow, he walked quickly across the room and opened the door. The corridor he entered was deathly quiet, and somewhat familiar as well.
Flaring his nostrils in canine-like fashion, he could smell his scent in the air.
It was the same corridor that led to the Prophecy Room. At the other end of the hallway was the Veil Chamber, which led to the lifts. From there, he could hop a ride back to the top, and a short apparation jump later, he'd be home free.
Home? Was there such a thing?
Of course, Harry reminded himself as the doors behind him flew open, there was always Mr. Murphy to fuck things up.
Sending a volley of curses over his shoulder, he ran full tilt toward the door at the end off the hall. It burst open at his wandless command, and he dove through headfirst, sealing it after him with a flick of his wand.
"Most impressive, Mr. Potter," a wizened voice said from behind him.
Harry spun on his heel, raising both wands in reflex.
"Oh, Shit."
Just to warn you, updates on this fic may be a bit sporadic. Things are kind of hectic right now, and my other story is my first priority. I will try to update at least twice a month, though.
Cheers!