I have realized something: I got twenty-odd reviews for the last chapter and I know there were at least a thousand visitors…
Anyone see the obvious gap between the values?
Sorry for the mix up in the last update. I've got my stories listed like SnC VII and HPB VII. I was running late for class and I clicked the wrong chapter.
NOTE: The poll will end on the 24th of November, probably around 11:30 AM Eastern Time, so please go vote for the next story that you want to see.
September 1, 1994. 2300, Gryffindor Dormitory…
Most of the Gryffindors sat in their beds, getting ready for bed. Some of the older students were still up, enjoying a quiet evening before the classes began tomorrow. They had been swapping stories of their summers and enjoying the sweets that Fred and George Weasley had smuggled up from the kitchens or bought form Zonko's joke shop. Somehow, a seventh year had smuggled in a few 40oz bottles of Firewhisky, getting them past the Fat Lady without incident, which led to some of the students staggering off to find their beds and some out to empty classrooms, aiming to enjoy their last night 'free.'
One of the twins happened to glance out the window and saw four floating orbs of light, illuminating a large section of the grounds near the Forbidden Forest. White cloaked figures stood around the border of the lights, their custom dye jobs blending with each others, causing him to rub his eyes as the image hurt his eyes a bit.
Taking a second look, he saw four of the Assassins he had seen at dinner attack a central figure, one who only wore a pair of bracers as protection for his upper body, his red streaked cloak, weapons and armor lying at the edge of the illuminated lawn. His face was still covered by the mask, blood streaks diagonally across his face. The young Gryffindor couldn't tell much else, only noting that the assassin had messy black hair.
Swirling tribal tattoos adorned his biceps above the bracers, the matte black body art clearly seen against the assassin's tanned skin. A pair of wing tattoos stretched across his back and down his spine, looking almost like he actually had wings. The twin blew it off as a magical effect, probably a tattoo charmed to be 3-D.
He cried in alarm as one of the Assassins swung a blade at him, its deadly edge glinting in the magical light. The semi-crowded room started as his cry split the air, their confused faces looking to him with questions written across them.
"The Assassins are fighting!" yelled the twin, pointing out the window towards the Assassin's fighting ring. He smartly stepped to the side as the entire common room charged the window, each trying to see the Assassins in action. The twin's twin cast a quick charm, causing the window to zoom in on the fighters. The face of the unmasked Master Assassin was blurred out, the twin noticed, leaving him to wonder what the man actually looked like. He probably keeps his face hidden so he can't be recognized by his enemies or anyone else. Smart man, thought the twin pranksters, watching the tattooed assassin dodge an overhead blow by the smallest of margins.
Their schoolmates gasped as one as they watched the assassin deftly avoid blow after blow, as if he knew where his opponents were and where they were going to strike, even those outside his field of vision. He back flipped to avoid a slice at his ankles and avoided a slice at his stomach while in mid air by flying just below the blade.
He continued to avoid the sword strikes for ten minutes, each dodge more graceful than the last, leaving the males of Gryffindor jealous as the noticed the longing looks the girls were unashamedly wearing as they watched the shirtless assassin dodge and weave, his body as graceful as a dancer, muscles rippling as he twisted and turned effortlessly.
He must have said something, causing the others to cease their attacks. They sheathed their blades and stiffly bowed to him, left hand over their chests. They were tired from the non-stop attacking they had been doing. The Master Assassin returned the bow, his movements lithe and graceful despite the acrobatics he had been performing for a solid ten minutes.
As one, the Assassins turned towards the castle and ran off, crossing the distance in seconds, disappearing out of the students sightlines despite the best efforts to keep them in view.
They looked back at the Master Assassin, still standing in the middle of the ring, bathed in the white light. They gasped as they watched him look up, seemingly right at them.
"Can he see us?" asked one of the girls, a fourth year named Pavarti, shivering as if she felt the man's gaze as a physical touch. The rest of the group seemed to feel the touch of his eyes as well, each squirming uncomfortably as if the assassin was watching them.
The assassin raised a hand to where his mouth would be and blew them a kiss before snapping his fingers, causing the lights to go out, disappearing into the blackness.
"I think he can," chorused Fred and George, staring out at the inky black darkness that now reigned supreme out on the grounds.
September 2, 1994. 0700, Great Hall…
Dumbledore walked into the Great Hall, half an hour before the students would begin to come down for breakfast, very much looking forward to his morning tea. He stopped dead when he saw the Assassins already there.
They had cleared the room, probably levitating the tables to the sides of the room to clear a space in the center. Steel clashed upon steel as four pairs of Assassins sparred back and forth across the room.
Dumbledore watched in silent appreciation at the display of skill before his eyes, watching the opponents attack with their blades, throwing in kicks, punches and everything in between as they attacked each other.
"Good morning, Headmaster," said Altaїr, his red streaked robes flapping slightly from his sudden movement, suddenly appearing by his side as one of the white-cloaked novices pulled a butterfly kick, sending her opponent into the wall at one side of the Hall. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows as he witnessed the power behind the kick. What surprised him more was the fact that the woman she fought rolled out of the impact on the floor and resumed the fight. "Are we living up to our promises?"
"Very much so, Mr. Altaїr," said Dumbledore, turning to the young man. "Should I ask what you are going to reveal to my students?"
The assassin pulled down the mask of his uniform and let himself smile as he said, "I will answer the students questions to the best of my ability, as long as it does not interfere with the third Tenet of the Creed: never compromise the Brotherhood."
"A good code to live by, Mr. Altaїr," said Dumbledore, watching one assassin plant a punch in another's stomach. This blow sent the novice reeling back accompanied by the sound of cracking ribs, clutching her stomach. "Is she alright?"
Altaїr turned to focus on the novice and whispered a quick phrase, too low for the Headmaster to hear it.
Immediately, the novice stood straight, her pain apparently gone, and resumed the attack. Dumbledore looked over in time for Altaїr to shout at the novice. "That's the only Heal rune you get for this fight, novice!"
"Yes, Master Altaїr!" the novice shouted back, trying to penetrate the Grand Assassin's guard. Her strikes, though very fast, had a predictable pattern, allowing the Grand to bat them away effortlessly.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with my morning tea," said Dumbledore, nodding to Altaїr as he took as step forward, preparing to walk around the combatants.
"Ke'sush!" shouted Altaїr, clapping his hands, startling the aged wizard.
Immediately, the fighting Assassins left their fights and stood in rows, forming a passage to the head table. They sheathed their blades and stood at attention, awaiting their next command.
Dumbledore looked back at Altaїr, a question forming on his lips.
"I'll tell you later, Headmaster Dumbledore," said Altaїr as he pulled his red streaked mask back over the bottom of his face.
Dumbledore nodded in acceptance before turning back to the head table, calmly walking through the two rows of Assassins.
As he sat himself at the head table and reached for the pot of his favorite tea blend the house elves knew he loved, the Assassins turned to face the Master Assassin, still at the end of the Hall. "Practice is over. Return to your posts. Novices, remain for the meal. Dismissed," said Altaїr.
The Assassins placed their left hands over their chests and Disapparated, leaving Altaїr with the novices.
Dumbledore was sure he was seeing things. Perhaps I need a stronger pair of glasses, he thought as he cleaned his half moon glasses. I was sure they Disapparated. How can they do that?
The remaining Assassins walked to the head table and replaced the four great tables in their original positions. After they were back in place, Altaїr raised a hand, palm down, fingers splayed wide.
The stone beneath their feet moved, the floor shifting into three chairs, one large one and two smaller ones, one on either side of the larger one.
The two smaller chairs were of simple construction, lacking any type of decoration.
The center chair was larger and ornate, looking more like a throne made of bones than anything else. A pair of skulls grinned from the armrests, their empty eye sockets glowing with a flickering red light.
Dumbledore came out from behind the head table and surveyed the assassin's throne. "Is it really necessary to make the students believe you are the Devil Incarnate?" he asked, noting the exemplary craftsmanship that went into the Transfiguration of the stones.
"Not really…" said Altaїr, sitting on the chair, looking very much like a blood streaked devil astride his throne formed from the bones of his enemies, the souls of two unfortunate victims glinting in their skulls.
"Very dramatic, Altaїr," said Dumbledore, rolling his eyes as he walked back to the head table. I think I need a second cup of tea, he thought as he walked back behind the table.
After twenty-odd minutes, other professors began to walk into the Hall,
Altaїr threw up a Disillusion charm around him and the two novices, hiding them from view until the time the questions were to begin. Their entrance would be the talk of the classes for a week.
Around seven-forty-five, the students began to trickle in, most still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
A group of fourth year Ravenclaws went to their table, discussing a homework assignment that they had received before the end of term. Ancient Runes, by the sounds of it. One held up a diagram of the rune array they were supposed to make. To the rest of the group, it looked perfect.
To the Assassins, who had been working with runes since they started their own training, it was a disaster with enough destructive force of equal to that of a pound of C4.
Altaїr sighed as he wrapped a second Disillusionment charm around himself and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, deftly avoiding other students as they slowly trickled into the room.
As he stopped behind the young woman who was holding the paper, he heard the words he had hoped no one would be stupid enough to utter: "Come on, Padma, put some magic into it."
Before the recently named Padma could respond, Altaїr dropped the charm and snatched the paper from her hands.
The Ravenclaw students screamed as one, their eyes widening in horror as the blood streaked assassin of the night before appeared directly behind one of their own.
Altaїr held up a hand and glared at them over his mask, putting a small amount of ambient magical energy into his gesture. The effect was instantaneous, quickly scaring the Ravenclaws into silence. The 'Claws quickly shut up, staring at the man who calmly placed a hand on the rune array, drawing a secondary array of runes at the bottom corner of the page.
"Who is your teacher?" he asked, looking over the rune array with an experienced eye, noting the small defects in the way the runes were drawn.
"P-P-Professor B-Babbling, S-S-S-Sir," stuttered a young woman of Asian heritage, staring at the assassin with a look of near horror. Su Li, one of the runner ups to top student in her year, thought the assassin, reading the info off his HUD.
Altaїr nodded absentmindedly, still looking at the paper. He turned around and approached the head table, making a beeline for the Ancient Runes Professor.
Said professor was currently enjoying a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast as he read an old issue of the Daily Prophet. He looked up to find the Master Assassin from the night before a mere foot away from him.
"Can I help you, Mr. Altaїr?" he asked, wondering why the Master Assassin had come up to him of all people.
"I have been told you teach Ancient Runes. Am I correct?" asked the assassin, tilting his head to the left slightly, waiting for the elderly professor's response.
"Yes…" trailed off Babbling, still confused.
"Please, take a look at this," the assassin said, casually tossing the paper he had appropriated to the professor.
With a hasty grab, the Rune Master stopped the page from falling into his food. A moment of silence was held as the professor looked over the paper. "A flawed Shield rune array, most commonly used for enchanting certain armors to add protection against spells. Your own work?"
Altaїr let out a quick bark of laughter, startling most of the students and professors. "Excuse me. No, it is not my work. One of your Ravenclaw students," he said, waving a hand to indicate the small group, now surrounded by the rest of the House. "Please explain what would happen if one were to run magic through such a flawed design."
"Well… the entire array would explode, of course, due to the improper drawing of the kazdan rune in the third quarter of the array and the eklan rune at the end," said Babbling, casually pointing out the flaws. "Who is the idiot who suggested putting a magical current through this without having I or another teacher with a basis in Runes check this over?"
The idiot in question silently raised his hand, drawing an amazed look from Babbling. Babbling slowly shook his head as he frowned at the student, mentally noting to go over the kazdan and eklan runes again once the boy was back in his class.
Altaїr turned back to the students and raised the paper in the air. "This is what happens when someone tries to put magic through a faulty rune array," he said, putting some magic into the Timed Magic Release rune set he had written in the corner. An instant later, he tossed the paper into the air and cupped his hands together, as if he was catching a ball.
Three seconds later, the piece of paper exploded in mid air, causing everyone present to flinch, excluding Dumbledore, who saw the magic invoked by Altaїr, and the two novices, still hidden under the Disillusionment charm, who had seen such a display before.
The explosion was contained by a sphere of colorless magic, keeping the resulting force from reaching the students and muffling the noise.
After the fire died due to lack of oxygen, the Master Assassin turned his head to look at the students, his masked and cloaked face unreadable… due to the mask…
"Any questions?"
Immediately, a bushy-haired Gryffidor raised her hand, nearly bouncing out of her seat at the prospect of learning about the Assassins. Various others from the other three Houses raised their hands as well, all curious about the new additions to the school.
Altaїr's HUD showed that Ms. Granger had spent the summer searching for any books, any scraps of information on the Assassins. She hadn't got anywhere close, though it was very funny to see her try.
"Very well, then. If you have a question, please get up and walk over here," said Altaїr, indicating a position a few meters away from his chair as he returned to the Disillusioned chair he had Transfigured from the stone floor of the Great Hall.
"Ms. Granger," he said, sitting down and leaning back on his chair, releasing the invisibility that hid the chair from view as he did so. Gasps broke the silence as the students gazed upon his throne, looks of horror and terror across their faces. "You may ask your questions now."
Silence reigned supreme for a moment as the students got used to the fact that he sat atop a throne that resembled the bones of many humans. Deputy Headmistress McGonnagall was looking rather impressed from his Transfiguration work, noting the fine detailing that went into his work.
Then Hermione Granger, the best student in her year, rose from her seat and walked up to stand where Altaїr had indicated. She took a few seconds to arrange her thoughts before asking her question.
"Why are there no stories about the Assassins?" asked Hermione, glaring at the assassin in his armchair/throne. "I've searched all the libraries I could over the summer and I can't find a single fact about the Assassins."
"There are no stories. There are myths, legends, fables, fairy tales, stories you would hear around a campfire or over drinks or whispered in the shadows by men whose sins are about to catch up to them. Our Order works because no one knows we exist outside the realm of the imaginary, much like you witches and wizards, though we are better," deadpanned Altaїr, not moving in his skeleton throne.
"Why don't you reveal yourselves to the wizarding world?" she asked, spreading her arms wide to gesture at the rest of the students. "Why stay secret?"
"We remain hidden from the eyes of the public because of the supernatural effect we have on our enemies. We are trained to be unseen as the Assassin's aim is to get close to their target stealthily, usually in public, to perform awe-inspiring assassinations. The greatest illusion from an assassination is for an Assassin to seemingly materialize from nowhere, kill a corrupt or evil person, and vanish into the depth of the crowd or environment. If an Assassin is spotted stalking their target, the supernatural effect is diluted, simply making it more difficult for the Assassin to reach his target. Be discreet: This is the Second Tenet of the Assassin's Creed."
Hermione was speechless for a moment, her brows knitting together as she processed this new information. She opened and closed her mouth a few times as she tried to formulate a new question before she looked at the assassin and asked, "May I ask other questions later?"
The Master Assassin nodded slowly, granting her request. She bowed her head quickly in respect before silently turning on her heel. She left the line for questions and returned to her seat, a look of barely contained glee on her face as she withdrew a sheet of parchement, a quill and an inkpot from her pocket. She began to write hurriedly, writing a trio of sentences within a second or two, determined to try for as much information as she could.
Altaїr beckoned the next in line: a young third year student by the name of Colin Creevey, known for his prowess with the ever present camera he held in his hands.
"Can I have a picture, Mr. Altaїr?" he asked timidly, holding up the camera with a hopeful look on his face.
Altaїr nodded and stood, beckoning the boy forward. Colin smiled, albeit nervously, and walked over to where the Master Assassin stood.
The assassin gently took the camera from Colin and made it levitate a few feet from him. Then he turned Colin around and put a hand on his shoulders, easily dwarfing the young thirteen year old, the assassin being six-foot-five and Colin being four-foot-eight.
"Smile," said Altaїr, squeezing the boy's shoulder in reassurance. Colin smiled wide as the camera flashed before spitting out the photograph. Altaїr reached out with his hand and used his magic to catch the picture before it hit the ground, bringing it back to his hand along with the camera.
When Colin took hold of both the camera and the photo, Altaїr kept a hold on the picture, calling Colin's attention back to him. "I would prefer," whispered Altaїr, leaning down to speak at eye level with the boy, "That you do not make copies of this, nor sell this to the papers."
Colin nodded quickly, slightly nervous at the assassin's direct attention. "Sir, yes, sir!" he said, standing straight and tall… as tall as he could, anyways. "I won't sell it for a million Galleons!"
The assassin nodded and took the picture and quickly passed a hand over it before handing it back to him.
Colin looked at the picture to find a small note written at the bottom corner of the magical picture. It read 'Safety and Peace, Master Assassin Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad."
Colin performed a clumsy yet acceptable bow and returned to his seat, clutching the picture in his hand, a smile across his lips.
Altaїr returned to his seat and beckoned to the next student. Before the girl could step forward, a pair of brutes rudely shoved her to the side to let a blonde teen cut into the head of the line.
Altaїr directed a cold look at the trio, not enough to make them faint or run for their lives, though enough to make the two thugs back up a step. The boy took no notice as he smirked as he walked un hindered to stand in front of the assassin.
"I am Draco Malfoy," he boasted, looking at the white garbed assassin with a look of superiority.
"I know," said Altaїr, his voice taking on an icy tone as he spoke. "I know all the children of those who chose to serve as evil's arm."
Draco was taken aback by the assassin's reply, not expecting that particular answer.
"Do you have a question, Mr. Malfoy?" the masked assassin asked, tilting his head to the side, studying the son of a Death Eater.
"Are you a pureblood?" asked Malfoy, finally finding his voice.
"I am a half-blood, Mr. Malfoy," said the assassin, noting the look of superiority coming back. "Why do you ask?"
"Everyone knows pureblood wizards are more powerful," said Draco, smirking at the assassin as if he were the superior being. "Why would the Assassins want a half-blood?"
Altaїr chuckled at the idiocy the boy was spouting. "You believe you are more powerful as a result of your blood?"
"Yes, obviously," retorted Malfoy, assuming a smug stance with a mocking smirk on his face.
"Shall we test your theory?" Altaїr asked as he stood and reached towards his belt.
Malfoy and everyone else standing in line back up a few steps in a hurry. Malfoy paled, his face turning a pasty white, thinking he was about to die.
Altaїr withdrew a sphere from his belt, semi-transparent, red in color and an inch wide, a stylized capital 'A' in the center. "This is what we call a dral stone, a power test stone," he explained, noting the panicked looks on everyone, though he cared little for the blonde before him. "If you were to place this stone near your heart, it will glow. The brighter the glow, the more power you have."
He offered the stone to the boy, a challenge in the air. "Do you wish to compare power levels?"
Draco recovered quickly as he realized that the sphere was not a weapon and arrogantly took a step forward, reaching for the stone.
Altaїr dropped the stone in his hand and watched as the Malfoy heir placed the stone on his chest, above his heart. A bright glow emanated from the stone, causing a few people to cover their eyes.
"Interesting," said the assassin, calmly taking back the dral stone. He turned and walked back to his seat, calmly rolling the marble around in his palm.
"What? To scared to show your meager magical power before your better?" mocked Draco, clearly thinking he had scared the assassin into retreating.
The temperature dropped ten degrees as Altaїr stopped in mid step, not believing that there was a person whose arrogance knew no limits. He turned around slowly, coldly staring at the boy.
"You wish to see my power?" he asked, holding the marble between his fingers.
"Why not? It will be fun to see how weak a half-blood is."
Altaїr sighed as he placed the stone over his heart.
The entire Great Hall was filled with light, blinding the students and teachers with its intensity. Only the novices and Dumbledore did not throw an arm in front of their eyes, their eyewear automatically filtering out the excess light. A second later, the stone shattered, ending the light show.
Altaїr sighed as he glanced at the marble, broken in ragged halves. He looked at the novices, holding the stone for them to see. "This is why I don't use these anymore."
It took a moment for the majority of the students to regain their sight, blinking away the spots the light left in their eyesight.
When they finally could see clearly, Draco and his gorillas beat a hasty retreat, heading for the Slytherin table at breakneck speed.
"Ms. Patil," said Altaїr in a soft tone, startling the young woman who had been watching the Slytherin making his hasty exit. She blushed as he appeared to stare at her, his masked face unreadable.
"I believe you were next in line to ask a question, were you not?" asked Altaїr, beckoning her forward.
She smiled nervously and stepped forward, wringing her hands. "Um… we saw you practicing last night and I wanted to ask… do you have wings?"
Altaїr laughed as he stood, spread his arms and slowly turned in a circle. "Does it look like I have wings, Ms. Patil?" he asked, completing his revolution.
"No… it's just that your tattoos were so beautiful and they looked real," said Pavarti, blushing as she realized how stupid her question probably sounded to the Master Assassin.
"I am as human as you are, bella," said Altaїr, affecting an Italian accent as he leaned back on one leg.
"Thank you, Mr. Altaїr," said Pavarti, blushing as she inclined her head in thanks, realizing what he had said in Italian. She was surprised, however, when Altaїr stepped forward, took her hand in his and delivered a kiss through the cloth of his mask upon the back of her hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Patil."
Pavarti, to say the least, was stunned, blushing like mad before the entire school populace. She quickly spun around and ran back to her group of friends, all of whom started giggling as she sat at began to talk rapidly.
Altaїr returned to his seat, nodding to the next person in line.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies, stepped forward. He bowed his head to the assassin before asking his question. "What do you Assassins do in your spare time?"
The seated assassin leaned to one side of the throne, supporting his head by one hand. "We train constantly, so we rarely have free time, Mr. Davies. I assume what you meant was whether or not we play Quidditch."
"Well… yes," said Davies, shifting uncomfortably as his intentions were easily interpreted by the Master Assassin.
"We do, in fact, play Quidditch. I believe one of the Masters here is an avid player, always playing whenever he can."
"Ah… perhaps I can invite you and your team of Assassins to play a match?" asked Davies, a playful challenge in his voice.
"Perhaps we will, Mr. Davies. I will discuss this with my team and send you an owl if we agree to a game," said Altaїr, adding a note to his HUD to talk to Talal about a Quidditch match in the near future. He couldn't have his team become lazy on this assignment.
Davies nodded, turned away and joined the rest of his team at the Ravenclaw table.
Altaїr glanced at the bottom corner of his HUD and noted that is was twenty minutes to nine, which left the students less than twenty minutes to get to their classes or risk being late.
"I believe it is time to end the question asking," said Altaїr, drawing the attention of the students. He pointed to the staff table, which was empty of all but the Headmaster, who was calmly sipping his tea. "If you are late to your first class, you will not be making a good impression on your teachers. Now, get to class!"
The students gathered their things and ran for the door, certain students hoping they would make it to their potions class on time or else risk detention with the Potions Master, Severus Snape.
Altaїr sighed as the hall emptied, leaving him, the novices and Dumbledore in the Hall.
"So, how did it go?" he asked, turning to the aged professor.
"Bravo, Mr. Altaїr. Bravo," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands slowly.
"Novices, grab some food from the kitchens and then go to Master Talal for assignment," said the assassin, Transfiguring his throne back into normal stone.
"Yes, Master Altaїr," the novices said before walking out of the Hall, heading for the second floor, Talal's current position.
A wave of the assassin's hand had the chairs returning to their natural state. He Disapparated, leaving the Headmaster reaching for another cup of tea.
Yeah, kind of a filler chap…
Probably one more after this and then we get into the action of the Quad-Wizard Tournament!
Also, Altaїr/Harry will not be as stoic as originally intended. I'm going to try and have him act more like Ezio than Altaїr, always flirting with the girls.
In a review, vote yea or nay for this change.
If you have any questions, comments or a random string of profanity you would like to share, hit the review button.