Gotc: YAY! PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY READING THIS! AND SOMEONE REVEWED!

Ace: This is a big day for you isn't it?

Gotc: You betcha. Well, I will apologize for the last chappie being so short, but hopefully this one will make up for it all. It is where I unveil the first of many plot twists!

Ace: Sure…Whatever…

Gotc: And you're going to going to be participating, SO GET IN THERE! Squeaky!

Squeaky: Squeak! (Harry Potter and Yu-gi-oh belong to other people. Ace does not.)

Gotc: Have fun readin' y'all!

Harry Potter and the Order of the Rising Dragon

CHAPTER 1: An Unusual Offer

It took a lot to get Albus Dumbledore flustered, and even more to make him angry, but the Ministry of Magic was working hard to find out exactly how much he was willing to take. His normally disorganized office had been buried under what hundreds of letters, scraps of parchment, and old, forgotten issues of the Daily Prophet littered the floor. His fireplace was in a desperate need of a good cleaning since he'd kept it burning almost non-stop the entire summer for use as an emergency means of contact with the Grimmauld Place.

He tossed the latest installment of the Prophet onto his already heaping desk, earning him an indignant squawk from Fawkes as the paper jostled his perch. Of course, their head story was going to be his expulsion from the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards, and his demotion in the Wizengamot. The weary Headmaster leaned back in his chair and rubbed the tip of his wand against his temple. He wondered briefly how long it would take for it to "leak" about the Ministry's plan to take away his Order of Merlin.

And almost as to top it all off, Fudge had gone so far as to even assign Hogwarts a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The owl that had brought the letter was still lazily preening itself on his windowsill, waiting for his reply to return to the Minister. Another of the tawny birds sat in his bookshelf after it's delivery of a letter notifying him of an infraction of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery by none other than Harry Potter himself. Of course, by the time it had arrived, he was already well aware of it, and Mundungus had learned a lesson he wasn't about to forget.

Not that it surprised him, Dumbledore had figured that Voldermort would try something of the sort. What he hadn't counted on, was that Mundungus Fletcher running off and leaving Harry on his own. It had taken most of the night to sort things out with the Ministry, and even then, there was still so much more to do. He'd already sent out several owls to help arrange Harry's transport to Number Twelve and received several back in response. They'd have to move him again soon before Voldermort could try another attack. But that problem was safely in the hands of Alastor Moody and would be dealt with in short order.

He picked up another leaf of parchment and looked it over again. As if his plate were not already full with the events of the last few days and months, there was more troubling news from the world further to the East. Wizards coming into their magical ability late in life was rare, but it happened once or twice a century. Yet in front of him was evidence of not one, but four young men who had somehow managed to go undetected almost five years longer than other aspiring witches and wizards their age. And as if the situation needed any further oddity surrounding it, all four were not only acquainted but had spent significant time in one another's company. Three in Japan, and one in Egypt. All connected by an odd game he hadn't yet taken the time to study. It seemed there was an odd sort of disturbance surrounding the four, but no one seemed quite sure yet what it was, only that it was the reason they hadn't been discovered until recently. But oddities he could handle. What had him most concerned, was a sudden surge of known Death Eaters in the nearby area of these new wizards. What was it that Voldermort knew that he didn't? Well, whatever it was, there was no doubt in his mind that the Dark Wizard had his sights aimed at them.

"HOW DARE THOSE BIG-HEADED MINISTRY BUEROCRATS?!" Came the voice of Minerva McGonagall from the doorway as she burst into his office, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in one hand, "Albus! You can't let Fudge do this to you! He's a complete fool who has no idea-"

"I'll be fine Minerva," Dumbledore chuckled lightly, "So long as they keep me on chocolate frog cards, I'll survive."

"But after all you've done for them! And for them to just- OoooH!" The deputy Headmistress groaned in frustration.

"We'll have to deal with that later, I suppose," Dumbledore sighed, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, and handed her the sheet of parchment he'd been holding, "Right now I would like you to do me a favor and write to these four young wizards and extend to them an invitation to our school, if you would."

McGonagall looked the letter over carefully and scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "Japan? Egypt? Shouldn't they be going to their own schools instead of Hogwarts?" She asked puzzled, looking up at the headmaster from over the rims of her own glasses.

"I feel they may perhaps be a little more…secure here at Hogwarts,"

"Albus, you don't think that You-Know-Who could be after them do you?"

Had the situation been any less complicated, Dumbledore might have smiled. Few were better suited to the position of Deputy Headmistress than Minerva McGonagall. The woman was almost clairvoyant in her ability to hear what was left unsaid. Most days, it made his own job exceeding less complicated. "I'm not willing to take the chance," Dumbledore said evenly, "So if you would please dispatch an owl to them as soon as you can?"

"Of course," McGonagall sighed, "And what about Potter? What has the Ministry decided to do with him?"

"There will be a hearing on the Twelfth of August," Dumbledore said wearily, "Until then he'll be safe enough."

Minerva straightened her robes with a huff and adjusted her hat. "Underage magic indeed," She said shortly, "How else are the children supposed to defend themselves in these times if they can't use magic?"

Dumbledore understood her frustration all too well, having had the very same argument with Cornelius Fudge only a few hours ago. His tired eyes drifted down to a discarded muggle newspaper. The headlines were often bland and uninteresting, but it was a single article on the back page that managed to catch his eye:

"21st Martial Arts Tournament to be held in London, 4-time Champion looks to his fifth title."

Dumbledore stooped to pick up the paper, his eyes scanning over it quickly as a slow grin began to spread over his face.

"How indeed Minerva….How indeed…"

The stagnant night air was filled with the rampant cheers of fans and onlookers gathered under the bright lights of the stadium. Though hardly London's biggest venue, the stands were packed in tight despite the sweltering heat of the late summer evening. What standing room existed surrounded the temporary pit in the center of the field, where the lights and cameras illuminated the two lone men throwing punch after kick at one another in time of the roaring cheers of the crowds behind them. One well-timed blow connected hard with the cheek of one combatant, knocking him off his feet as crimson stained his lips.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! COOPER IS DOWN!"

A roar of excitement rippled through the stands, reverberating through the entire stadium, as the fallen fighter staggered to his knees and swayed in the aftermath of the blow.

"It's o're 'Ardtack!" A huge blond man said advancing on his opponent, "Four titles is e'nough."

Sharp cerulean eyes danced excitedly in the glow of the stadium's lights, even and steady as they fixed on their approaching foe. A single tanned hand wiped the trickle of blood from his lower lip, before brushing back the raven colored hair that grew long at the top of his head, while the sides were kept clipped nearly to the skin. Broad shoulders heaved with every heavy breath, as he stumbled onto his feet again and stretched out every inch of his tall frame. Too late did the bigger man realize his target was merely playing up the seriousness of his last hit, as a devious smile flashed across his face and one very solid shoulder was buried firmly in his gut.

"You want the title so bad, you can come and take it." He taunted back, before adding with a shrug, "If you can."

He brought himself into a sturdy defensive position, as Bull's-eye sucked the air back into his lungs with a furious roar the crowd echoed. He and rocked back onto the balls of his feet and charged full-force, pulling back a fist aimed right at his head. But instead of making contact, it soared through open air, as its target side-stepped at the last second. A fist connected with Bull's-eyes already sore ribs, throwing him off balance. A knee slammed hard into his chest before a blow to the back of his head forced him to succumb to darkness's embrace.

A referee came running up beside the two, counting off as loud as he could to be heard over the din of the crowd. As soon as he screamed "10", he grabbed the dark-haired man's arm and hoisted it high over his head.

"HE'S DONE IT AGAIN FOLKS!" The announcer bellowed at the top of his lungs in absolute hysterics, "ACE 'HARDTACK' COOPER HAS MADE HISTORY AND WON HIS FIFTH CONSECUTIVE CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE!"

The entire crowd leapt to their feet in single motion, chanting the name of the victor over and over again to the night sky, in one unified voice that drowned out all others. Ace turned to the crowd with both arms raised in victory to them as they continued to chant his name, before walking over to kneel next to Bull's-eye. A medic already knelt next to the bigger man, checking his vitals and waving a small ampule under his nose to help bring him back around.

"Come on Johnathan," Ace chuckled lightly, giving him a nudge as the medic helped him sit up. "I know for a fact I didn't hit you that hard."

"J'us trying ta' give ya' some time in the spotlight," Bull's-eye said with an entirely unconvincing slur to his words as he opened his one good eye, and accepted Ace's outstretched hand. "An' ya know better than ta' call me that."

"The fight's over," Ace said heaving his friend to his feet, with a grunt and started to help get him moved off the arena floor. "And I'd like to not sound like some masked wrestler if that's alright with you."

"An we both know it wouldn'ta last half as long if ya'd been even halfway tryin' ta' beat me," Bull's-eye said jabbing Ace in his already aching ribs.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Already tucked under the big man's arm, he found himself in a headlock as the medics fretted over them both and tried to separate the both of them without much success. "Oaf. Next time I'm letting them get the forklift to haul you off the field." Ace huffed in mock insult, as he finally pulled his head free and helped Johnathan to sit on one of the benches where the medical team could properly check him over. Unfortunately, that meant the medics were quick to swarm him as well and were hovering around him like flies trying to get him to join his one-time opponent on the bench to be looked at. In his attempts to slip away from their attentions, he found himself corralled near the stands where fragments of conversations from the departing spectators drifted in on the weak evening breeze.

"-might sign something? I bought a shirt-"

"-don't bet against Cooper. Never seen the man lose yet."

"He's gotta lose sometime-"

"-got at' see yer ruddy fight, now let's get goin' fer the Dark Lord knows where we went!"

"Calm down ya' bloody pixie! It's just a museum! I don't even know what He'd want with a couple a old books anyway…"

Ace's head swiveled around and ducked through his caretakers as he tried to catch a glimpse of whoever had been speaking. A cold chill, quickly followed by a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach lurched once, as he pried himself out from the group that had him surrounded.

"Whasamatter? Yeh got a look n'yer eye." Bull's-eye asked as Ace stood looking into the crowd, "Them nurses'll be awful sore if ya' don't get checked out 'fore ya' go running off somewhere."

"I think I'll live," Ace said still scanning the crowd, trying to pick out the two he'd overheard from the retreating mass of bodies. "You know any way out of here where I won't get mobbed?"

"Sure, out past the old Platform next ta' the loo, there's an entrance ta' the alley. Used for rubbish mostly, but it'll get ya' outta here. If ya' can get the docs t'clear ya."

Ace raised an inquiring eyebrow at his friend, a pleading question in his eyes that only made the man heave a relenting sigh. "Yeh owe me." He grumbled before both eyes rolled up in his big head and his body dropped off the back of the bench with a heavy thump. In an instant, the medics were far too busy worrying over the downed man to pay Ace any attention as he casually turned and ducked behind the barriers where the stadium lights wouldn't quite reach.

"Thanks, pal," Ace said making off with Bull's-eye's directions at a trot with the city's lights glittering before him. "Wouldn't want to miss my next engagement."

A blanket of silence accompanied the dark shadows that seemed to extend from every pot and wax figure that adorned the halls of the museum. Ancient tablets on loan from the Cairo museum had just arrived earlier that day from their last stay at the Domino Museum. Pictures of Egyptian kings and fiendish monsters stared down from their hangings, as two figures crept about in the darkness. They came to stop next to an old, crumbling tome and set to work opening the glass case.

"Can we 'urry up an get this over wit'?" One nervous voice whispered, "'Ere's black magic in this stuff…I can feel it…"

"Aw..Get off it…It's just a load a rubbish, not somethin' ta be scared of. All the Dark Lord wants is Is' books and then we're off."

"Is that what you think?"

The two whipped around to see who had spoken, but their eyes only met with the suffocating darkness. They pulled something out from their clothes, and held it loftily in front of them, as their eyes flitted about the room.

"I mean, come on," The voice chided from the shadows, "Surely there are other avenues of thievery open besides robbing a museum? Besides, you're only putting yourselves at risk. Stealing from a museum's like robbing the tomb itself…"

"Lumos!" One of the men yelled. A bright light suddenly lit the tip of his wand, highlighting the fear on both their faces.

The two turned around in tight circles, straining to see past the light's edge and into the waiting shadows. Their eyes flicked from artifact to artifact, never lingering on any one as now the very carvings seemed to move with a life of their own.

"If I were you…" The voice called in a sing-song way, as a shadow rushed by in the darkness, "I would get out of here while you can…."

"Stupefy!" The other man bellowed as a flash of light erupted from his wand and crashed into the area where he'd seen the movement.

"A little slow…" The voice chuckled.

"We're warning you!" One yelled into the darkness, even though his voice was quaking with fear, "We're Dark Wizards!"

The sound of laughter echoed eerily throughout the hall, reverberating off the exhibits, and making it sound like it was coming from several places at once. It played back in a haunting echo that made it seem as if the very etchings were all laughing at their folly.

"Dark wizards?" The voice scoffed, not bothering to keep the amusement out of its tone, "Look around you, you fools! You are standing in a room that depicts some of the most powerful 'dark wizards' the world has ever known! These men weren't cowards who hid in the shadow, no, they commanded it! Bent the darkness to their will! And you think because you can wave that stick around, that makes you 'dark wizards'?"

The two were now frantically backing up. They nearly had their backs against a wall, when out of the darkness behind them, two cerulean eyes gazed out of the shadows, a breath away from their terrified faces.

"You two are nothing."

The two spun on a dime, lashing out with their wands. But before either could utter a spell, a foot connected with one and sent him flying into a stone pillar. The other scrambled backward, as his foe began to advance. "I-Impedimenta!" He screamed. The spell erupted from his wand, at the advancing figure, locked onto its target. But a sudden flourish accompanied by the sound of rasping metal deflected the spell and sent it crashing into the roof. The man fell over onto the ground still trying to scrabble away when cold steel found the column of his neck and pressed just hard enough he could feel his pulse drumming against the razor edge.

"Who are you working for?" The figure asked calmly

"Th-th-the Dark Lord.."

"There have been many throughout the ages, and

I'm not in a mood to guess which you mean." The figure said easily, pressing the blade a little closer, "Perhaps you could be more specific?"

"Wh-what? He-Who-Mus'-Not-Be-Named! None else would dare-"

"I think you're confusing me with someone who has the patience for thieves." The voice took on an edge every bit as sharp as the blade against his neck. "One more time, before I let the creatures here have you as payment for trespassing."

With the frantic confusion before, he'd failed to notice the hazy outlines in the darkness just beyond the glow of his fallen wand. Now that his captor pointed them out, they no longer behaved like tricks of the light. Now they moved, writhed, and paced in impatient circles around them. Low, eager voices all hissing for the chance to taste mortal flesh again…

"V-Voldemort! Lord Voldemort!" The answer came as a hysterical scream, as a grotesque face crept slithering into view.

"Humph." The figure huffed, before striking the man with the hilt of the blade. The man crumpled into an unconscious heap, at his feet as Ace strode out of the shadows, sheathing the sword on his back. He glanced briefly at the two unconscious men, before dragging them both together in a heap. He cast a sidelong grin to the still lurking forms hiding in the dark. "Go back to your rest. These two will answer for their deeds tonight."

There was unfettered displeasure in the whispering hiss around him, but after a moment, the crushing darkness that had filled the exhibit lightened bit by bit, until the only trace of its presence remained carved of the artifacts on display. He let out a small sigh of relief, He scoffed, before turning to look at the tome the men had wanted to steal, "How pathetic. Those idiots have no idea the kind of power they were about to unleash."

"Although I'm fairly certain their master does," A new voice echoed in the dark room behind him.

Ace spun on his heel, coming face-to-face with an old man wearing a set of odd purple robes and half-moon spectacles. His withered hands were held up in a gesture of peace, as he quietly observed Ace from a respectful distance. He hadn't even heard the old man approach.

"And who are you?" Ace asked, narrowing his eyes, "And am I going to have to add you to this pile?"

"No, no. I'm sure that won't be necessary," The old man chuckled lightly, "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Ace found himself raising a disbelieving eyebrow and folding his arms across his chest. "Ace Johannes Cooper," Ace said suspiciously eyeing his new companion. "So Mr. Headmaster… If you're not with them, then just what is it you're doing in an Ancient Egyptian exhibit this late at night?"

"I have come to offer you a job."

Gotc: Welll? Did you like?! I hope so! I made his one extra-long to make up for the suck-ish chappie last time! I hope you all enjoyed it and I'll be posting again soon! Please R&R to tell me what you think!

-10 year update- Hehehe. There we go! That should have fixed a lot of the grammatical errors, and just maybe have added something a little extra for those of you who already know what you're looking for! Those of you that don't… well, keep reading and don't forget to drop me a line in a review!