Chapter 9

In a second flash of light Harry found himself upon another mountain. This time the stadium seemed to be cast in shadows, giving it a darker and eerier look. "Hello?" His voice echoed through the dark, once again left behind by his Avian.

"Welcome, young Vulcan. I am Jupiter, King of the Roman Gods. I suggest following my Queen, Juno, to your rooms. You will need rest to begin your training tomorrow." A deep voice answered his question, never revealing its whereabouts. The only thing he could really see was the young woman standing before him, dressed in dark colors, a golden head-dress revealing her royal status.

Harry found himself led to a small room of silken sheets and curtains. He had a small bath off to one side, enclosed by a dark blue screen. On the other side stood a battered wooden stand with a ceramic bowl and pitcher. He didn't seem to have much room to move about since the bed itself took up almost the entire room, covered with dark silk sheets and pillows. But the one thing that really got him was the darkness. Here on the Mountain of the Gods, Harry could swear it was night, if he hadn't accidentally found a bay window, hidden in the dark shadows of his room. Looking out, he could see the rays of sunlight bouncing around beneath the light colored clouds. "So dark," he murmured.

Emerald eyes glanced around to see the stadium barely grazed by any light, let alone the few lit torches. He did not like this at all but knew he would be left in the dark until Berry returned to take him on another time trip. "Please let this be brief. I don't want to be lost in the dark again." Already his mind was falling back to the coldness of his cell in Azkaban. Hoping sleep would drown out the bad memories, Harry began to lie down.

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"Welcome again, young Vulcan, to Rome. Today you will be training with us before we settle into the regime of the Coliseum."

Harry said nothing as he allowed his tired body to be dragged about. He couldn't sleep, not with the bad memories of the darkness threatening to overcome him. For the months following, the peaceful dreams of sleep would continue to evade him. His days and nights would worsen. He began to do the one thing he desired never to do, bleed tears and sweat of red. Pain meant nothing to him anymore as they continually pushed him further than the Greek Gods ever had.

Instead of paying attention to the bad and painful, Harry tried his best to find some good. That good was his steadily increasing control over his magic, emotions, and facial expressions. Even better, he was gaining the ability to control his very mind from any possible invaders' intrusion. That control helped him greatly when Harry suddenly found himself forced to entertain for the Gods before the Romans and their Emperor. Under an assumed name, Harry was the youngest Gladiator at seventeen years of age. He hated to be forced to murder in order to save his own life, as well as to fulfill the bidding of his tutors.

They even had him spending any free time helping their warlords in various skirmishes. For almost four years Harry battled, trained, and forcibly spilled blood. Behind an impenetrable mental curtain lay Harry's childish innocence, never to be let out while he remained in a world of blood, war, and pain. This time the blood on his hands was real, telling him that this crime he was really committing and that Rome was just as bad as Azkaban, only he was awake the entire trip.

Because his nights were full of insomnia, Harry lay awake. Every night he thought of his siblings. Every night he rubbed the invisible ring sitting upon the finger of his right hand, still warm even after all these years. It seemed the spells were quite powerful if they reached through the veil beyond time. And that's what kept him going, despite all the pain, blood, and separation from his childish innocence.

"Harry."

The emerald eyed man groaned. "Not again!"

Berry sadly smiled. She knew what her young charge had to go through for these four years. Rome was what made an Assassin Vulcan. Assassins could not be childish, squeamish, nor could they be timid. And she also knew young Harry would need this type of training if he should ever meet up with those who betrayed him. "Yes, my boy. I am sorry but we must leave here for our final destination. Circe, Morgana, and Merlin."

"What will I learn there?"

She barely contained the flinch at his harsh tone. Yes, she knew his training would be difficult but she could only hope in the end he would overcome the horror of it all. "Circe will teach you spells bordering Dark and Light as well as ancient magic none have possessed since the end of Druids' time. Morgana knows the arts of Seductive Power and the connection of Dark Arts to the shadows around you. Merlin will teach you the power of Light. And together they will improve your wandless ability, train you in the art of Non-Tongue Spells, spells of ancient languages long dead, and Mental Arts of Emotions and Elements."

Harry knew the drill, even as she explained what he would learn. Saying nothing, he waited for the sharp tugging at his navel as they vanished for his last training slot.

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"Welcome, young Vulcan."

Harry gave a tight bow to the elderly wizard and two lovely sorceresses. "Good day, Sir, Ladies."

"Call us Circe, Morgana, and Merlin, for we will be your closest confidantes during your stay. We will also be joined by Norse God, Loki. He may be quite the trickster but he is a Master of Chaos Magic. Your weaponry and physical battlement will be given to the Norse Women Warriors, known more commonly as the Valkryies." Harry said nothing. Mentally he began to prepare himself for more burdens on his already burdened soul. He would keep a tight control over his thoughts and wishful words.

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Hogwarts and the Magical World were in a panic as they learned of the escapes of Harry Potter and Sirius Black from Azkaban. Albus Dumbledore realized what Harry's escape meant. Harry Potter was the Chosen Child of The Powers That Be. Secretly, the older wizard prayed that the boy he had help to lock away would not lose what integrity the Gryffindor had once before. Nor did he hope Harry Potter would destroy the world as myths and legends spoke about the Chosen Child of The Powers That Be.

But the white haired Headmaster refused to tell anyone of his young student's new position. Instead he played the role of concerned Headmaster of his students and the world at large. Blue eyes stared down at the thick book upon his desk. Since he was a child, Albus had collected anything he knew about the legendary PowersThat Be. There were mentions of warriors called Assassin Vulcans within the book. Warriors with outstanding power held in check by the Gods.

The warriors were trained in all arts of war and combat. They had no qualms about how their power was weilded, only listening to the Gods. There were rumors that these warriors were used to extract justice, even vengenace, on those the Gods deemed. And if Harry Potter would become such a warrior, then the Wizarding World could be in more danger than the boy having power to destroy it.

Harry could extract his own vengenace, punishing those who had betrayed him. Or the Gods could deem a more suitable punishment. But worse, Harry and the Gods could allow Voldemort to win, giving him the aid he desperately requires to overthrow the Ministry, gaining full control of the Magical World. It was those thoughts that caused shudders to run down his spine. Give us mercy. Allow Harry to fight for the innocent ones caught in this war. After all it was what Shadow would have done.

Shadow. Albus heavily frowned, wondering where that name had come from. He had vague memories of a man appearing thirty years ago. A man with an aura of power and danger. From his fragmented memories, Shadow seemed to be a person caring for innocences. Pale fingers scoured through the book, searching for references to such a person. But all he found were notes, fragmented and faded with time. All he knew was that Shadow was powerful and hunting for someone he cared for while working for a higher power.

What memories do time hold? There must be more.

But what the aging Headmaster did not realize was that someone was watching. Berry had entered the office silently. She cast her magic about, fading the memories and writings. It wasn't the time. Their child had yet to begin his mission. You failed him. He's ours now. And once he begins his mission, you shall realize what it was you ruined.