A/N: I think I've probably said this a million times, but I LOVE you guys! Ahem. Yes, well... If anyone has any prank ideas, remember, the best three will be given a cameo appearance in a later chapter as either a Mage, Spy, Healer, Master, Vampire or Demon, because I have actually run out of ideas for those characters...Oh! And if anyone can give me tips on writing politics, that would great, because I seriously suck at it. Kee...

Chapter Nine-- The First Week, As Seen By Durmstrang

The first week at Hogwarts was, to put it bluntly, horrible. One bad and uncomfortable situation after another until every single Durmstrang student was so tightly wound that anyone in a year lower than sixth was scuttling away from them in pure fear. The fifth years, who were terrified of being ambushed, moved in small packs of three or four, regardless of their new Houses. It proved necessary when a group of sixth year Hogwarts students decided to try out a new hex they had found, which ended up with the unwilling participants hanging by their wrists from the high ceiling in one of the fourth floor corridors. That particular incident had resulted in the guilty party suddenly appearing in the Hospital Wing unconscious and covered in painful boils, with the word 'COWARD' permanently inked into the side of their necks.

The sixth years, the smallest group of the Durmstrang guests, were more confident of their abilities. They still moved in pairs though, and got into more than a few short duels with arrogant Hogwarts students. But, strangely, in the eyes of others, they took to defending Marci. She was the only one they would see for healing and, as such, her safety became paramount. The Hufflepuff's quite happily followed along, not willing to see any member of their House injured, whether they were permanent or temporary. As such, that House began to learn what they would never be taught at Hogwarts. In return, Marci taught a few of the seventh years how to heal most injuries by themselves.

The seventh years, however, proved to be the most capable. They dealt with any offensive action harshly, and had been responsible for the delivery to the Hospital Wing of the students guilty of the attack on the fifth years. The Ravenclaw's, under Hermione's guidance, quickly took to the Durmstrang students. They proved that good conversation was to be had, and in return for that, and a safe haven for those in Gryffindor House, Harry managed to procure some third year books for them. Far from being insulted, they readily admitted that the spells and information in those books far surpassed anything they had been taught.

The first night Harry, Darren, Karl and Laura had spent in Gryffindor tower had been tense. Laura was alone amongst the fifth year girls, and placed the most powerful wards around her bed and belongings. Despite the friendly nature of the girls she was incredibly wary. Ginny Weasley, a sixth year, the youngest of the Weasley clan and the only girl, had gradually gained some measure of trust, taking Laura under her wing and making sure that no harm befell her. Friendship was all she wanted, and without her own year group, Laura was more than willing to give it a go.

Harry was eternally grateful that Darren and Karl were there with him. He may have been the alpha of their pack, but he was still vulnerable here. He couldn't risk the student body finding out exactly what he was. And he couldn't always be on guard, he needed to rest and being here was tiring enough. Thankfully their beds had been placed next to each other, although Harry's trunk had been in front of the bed next to Ron's. Darren had quickly swapped them over, throwing the red head a grin. Karl had quietly, and efficiently, cast every defensive charm and ward spell he knew, which meant that their beds and belongings were almost an impenetrable fortress.

No matter how hard any of them tried, they still had to sit through class after class of things they had learned years ago. The only good thing was that Snape had taken to giving all of them, even the sixth and fifth years, suitably complicated potions. He always asked them to mask the taste and odour, and they always found a way. A sort of truce had sprung up between them all; they were pleased that they had something interesting to do, and he valued their thoughts and the random gifts of rare and outrageously expensive ingredients.

The one shining light for all of them was that Lily and Remus taught them after class each day. Instead of the standard Advanced Charms that Hogwarts taught, Lily was teaching them Defensive Charms, Ancient Incantations and Elemental Charms. Remus was teaching them a carefully selected group of Dark spells commonly used in combat, their counter curses, defences against them and, for the seventh years only, Shadows Spells, which could be used only when one was desperate enough, but the knowledge was good.

Hermione was endlessly jealous and had taken to begging Mere to teach her something. It wasn't working, which was annoying, because the amber-eyed blonde kept telling her that it wasn't her decision. Remus had left it up to Harry to elect any students he believed capable of casting any of the seriously advanced spells and charms that they were learning. It was this need to learn that had driven her out of the warm common room to the freezing, biting air outside.

Grimacing as her nose froze, Hermione trudged through the foot deep layer of snow. Harry was currently tending to the thirty pegasi down in the make shift stables near Hagrid's hut. The half-giant had been quite taken with the seventeen year old who had a talent for dealing with potentially dangerous, armoured, winged horses.

"Harry!"

Emerald eyes snapped open and he raised his head from where he had been resting it against the warm neck of a Pegasus. He grinned and waved at Hermione. "'Lo, Hermione."

She gave him a quick smile before rubbing her gloved hands against her cheeks, which were a lovely rosy colour from the cold air. "How can you stand it out here?" She gestured to the jeans and long sleeved shirt he was wearing. "It's freezing!"

"Bulgaria is colder, though I'm pretty sure you know that."

"And why would you think that?"

"You were briefly involved with Viktor Krum, weren't you?" She blushed and nodded. "He told me all about you!"

"What?" She stared at him. "He didn't!"

"Oh yes. I believe he called you Herm-my-oh-niny, didn't he?"

She blushed and cleared her throat. "That's beside the point. So I was…interested in him for a time. So what?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." He flashed her a smile before lifting the brush he held and running it through the long white mane of the grey Pegasus. "So what brings you down here if it's too cold for you?"

She sighed and stuck her hands under her armpits. "I've been asking Mere if I could come to one of your lessons, after classes. She keeps telling me that your Headmaster has put you in charge of judging whether any of us can do it or not. I know I could do it, if you just give me a go!"

"Hermione," Harry shook his head and glanced out the corner of his eyes at her. "It's not about whether the person believes they can do it or not, though personally I think you're stubborn enough to try until it works, which is a Gryffindor trait by the way."

"You got put in there!"

He laughed. "I was supposed to be in Slytherin. But, no matter. Either way, everything we are learning now is linked to the Dark Arts in some way. And the Dark Arts can corrupt a person within only a short amount of time, so it's dangerous for just anyone to learn."

"But Death Eaters use the Dark Arts. I highly doubt that they are all capable of not being corrupted."

"True. But the Dark Arts here is drastically different to the view we have on it. A Dark spell is any spell that requires a strong emotion to be behind it, even a supposedly 'light' spell like the Patronus charm. A long time ago, what we call Dark Arts, was known simply as Empathic Arts, because of that emotional requirement. At the same time, the need for pur emotion can twist a person's soul beyond repair, hence the corruption."

She nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "But you all are learning it. How can all of you be capable of casting the spells, and not being corrupted?"

"When Remus came to Durmstrang to teach Defence in my first year, he told Karkaroff that every new student should be tested for the strength of will required. Karkaroff thought it was a marvellous idea and implemented it immediately. There used to be a hundred and seventy two students in my year. There are only twenty-three who could successfully deal with the spells taught in sixth and seventh year. Everyone else either applied for certain classes, or found another school altogether."

Hermione sighed. "So the likelihood of me being strong enough is pretty slim."

He smiled at her, emerald eyes dancing with laughter. "We can still test you. Come next Tuesday. You never know what the results could be!"

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Harry stared at the owl sitting in front of him. It was a beautiful brown barn owl, common, but for the gold ring on its leg bearing the Gringott's seal. He blinked and it blinked back at him.

"Are you going to open it, or can we eat it?"

He looked down at Phanta, who was curled up on his lap, onyx eyes staring hungrily at the owl, who hooted indignantly. "I don't think it would appreciate it. And the Goblins would probably call for my blood."

There was a clatter and Harry looked up to see Daniel, Ron and several of their cronies staring at him in fear. Blinking, he shrugged and turned back to stare at the owl.

"Mate, if you are going to stare at that thing for another five minutes, I'll shove its feathers down your throat!"

Harry snorted as Karl pointed a fork at him. The fork reeked of magic. All of the Durmstrang students within the Werepack had taken to warding their utensils to avoid possible harm from the silver objects. Even the gold ones had faint traces of silver in them.

The owl hooted and Phanta rose until her front talons were gripping the red and gold tablecloth. "It would be such a tasty snack, master…"

"Don't call me master." He reached forward and picked up the envelope it had dropped before him. He absently gave it a piece of toast, watching as it swallowed it before flapping away.

"I am hungry. The owl flew away, and you gave it food!"

"Hush." He picked up a piece of bacon and gave it to the grumbling little faery dragon. He broke the wax seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the piece of parchment within.

Dear Mr Harry James Potter (now known as Evans),

As the eldest child of one James Hadrian Potter, you are entitled to the role of Heir Apparent. Since you're subsequent leaving of this country during your childhood, Mr Potter has attempted to remove you from this title. With your adult status and return to England, we are willing to give you the last say in this matter.

As Heir Apparent of the Potter bloodlines you would be required to wear the Heir ring, and sign a form stating who, in the unlikely event of your demise, should then step up to the role. We beseech you to think this over properly and get back to us as soon as you possibly can.

Ragnaw,

Manager of Gringott's Bank, London Branch, Diagon Alley

Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced up at James. So, his father had attempted to remove his right to heirdom? Very well. Then he would remove the right to choose from his father. Pulling a book of parchment and a self-inking quill from his shoulder bag, he lazily waved his hand, casting a spell so that no one could read what he was writing.

Dear Mr Ragnaw,

I am pleased to hear that you and your brethren have protected my right to take the role of Heir Apparent. Since my father and I are rather estranged at the moment, and it is likely to never end, I would like for you to draw some papers up for me. I wish to assume the role of Heir Apparent, and to, in the even of my demise, gift it to a dear friend and almost sister, Merena Swiner.

I warn you though, if you ever send mail to her, do not call her Merena. It is Mere, or she is likely to curse you and all of your brethren to hell and back.

Thankyou for your letter, and I look forward to receiving my papers.

Regards,

Harry James Evans

Casting a nervous glance to make sure that no one was watching him. He spelled some hot wax onto the parchment next to his name, before hesitantly pressing a ring on his right index finger to it. Staring down at the insignia now sharply indented on the wax, he sighed and folded the letter up, resealing it with more wax and, again, pressing the ring to it.

Looking down, he noticed that Phanta had quite happily commandeered his entire plate and was busy shovelling it all in as fast as she could. He smiled fondly down at her, not for the first time wishing that she were allowed to accompany him to classes. Unlike Durmstrang, familiars were a rare occurrence in Hogwarts and Dumbledore had made it quite clear that they were to stay in their dorms. Not that it stopped the creatures from creeping out at meal times.

Onyx eyes glittered and the silver dragon leaped onto the table. Darren was eyeing her warily, one arm curling around his plate protectively. Phanta wasn't likely to take food from the dishes lining the centre of the table; she believed that food tasted better when taken from someone else's plate. Usually that was Harry, but she had already consumed all of his food. With a hiss and a snort, she bypassed him and prowled down the table. Her wings were raised and her tail whipped from side to side, much like a dog's would. Sniffing, she caught the scent of the most wondrous food in the world; bacon.

Ron shrieked as a silver blur barrelled into his plate, which was full of bacon and eggs, but mostly bacon. Phanta whipped her tail and hissed in content as she gobbled his food down. Harry was so busy laughing that he missed the angry glare the red head sent his way.

"Get out of it you disgusting serpent!"

"Serpent! He calls me a serpent! Is the foolish wizard blind or has his hair ruined his intelligence!"

Harry levelled a glare on the red head. "Come here, Phanta." The dragon easily slipt down the table, before climbing up his arm and wrapping herself around his neck. "That was uncalled for, Weasley."

"That-that thing ate my food!"

Ginny, who had slightly darker hair than her brother and kind brown eyes, frowned from her seat across from Laura. "Ron, really! You eat enough that I doubt it'll even ding your appetite."

"Well if I fill my plate up, it'll probably eat it again!"

"He's right, you know." Phanta pushed her head against Harry's cheek. "I would love nothing more than to eat all his food."

"Nonsense, Ron." Ginny waved her hand and promptly ignored her brother.

Darren raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he attempted to smother the laughter threatening to spill out. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Phanta is likely to eat whatever she can see!"

The red head frowned in confusion. "Well, there's plenty of food in front of us."

Harry snorted. "I don't think she's ever eaten anything that didn't origionally come from someone else."

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Harry sighed as he leaned back against the hard trunk of a tree. His eyes glowed in the night and he wrapped his arms around himself, before sinking to the ground. A silvery shape floated past him and a fleeting smile graced his lips.

"Master has a job for Phanta?"

"Stop calling me Master." Harry frowned, pulling out the letter for Gringott's. "And yes, I do have something for you to do."

The little dragon landed on the ground before him, cocking her head to the side in curiosity. "What is it?"

"I need you to take this to the Gringott's branch in Diagon Alley. And make sure that no one but the manager reads it. I can't have my…father attempt to head this off."

Phanta cooed. She climbed up his legs, perching on his knees. She pushed her head against his cheek, sending a rush of warmth through him. "You miss Master Mate."

He closed his eyes and nodded. A rush of magic had them snapping open again. "What did you do?"

"Made it so that Master Mate can come visit you. I will deliver the mail, and I will keep it safe!" She cooed once more, before leaping off his knees and gliding away into the night.

Tom?

Harry? He could feel the surprise drifting down the link. Is something wrong?

No. Can you come see me?

I don't think the wards will let me, love. Not unless Dumbledore suddenly decided to allow you back into your dorms?

No. But Phanta took pity on me. The wards will let you in, and Dumbledore won't ever know you were here.

"You look like hell."

Emerald eyes flashed open and up, to see Tom smiling softly down at him. Harry drinked in the image of his mate, his werewolf half settling from the jumpiness that had invaded him all week. "Tom."

Tom kneeled down, taking in the appearance of the young teen. There were faint circles under his eyes and he looked as if hell had suddenly decided to wage war on him personally. He sat down next to him, leaning his back against the tree and pulling the raven-haired werewolf to him, settling him between his legs.

Harry sighed as he leaned back, warmth radiating from Tom. The scent of his mate, that of winter breezes and cinnamon, surrounded him, made him feel safe once more. "I've been so…so…"

"Tightly wound?" Tom sighed and wrapped his arms around the smaller frame of his mate. "I could feel it, you know. There was nothing I could do, because I know just how important this mission is. But there isn't anything, anything, I wouldn't give for you to not have to go through this."

Harry hummed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax as much as he ever could; which wasn't a lot, all things considered.

Tom caught a glimpse of something silver on Harry's tanned fingers. Picking his right hand up he examined the ring. It was a thick silver band, with a black blade slanting across it and a small emerald imbedded within the onyx. "I haven't seen you wear this for a long time," He murmured.

Harry nodded, gazing at the pale fingers intertwined with his own. "I never really had any reason to wear it. Never felt in danger like this."

FLASHBACK

Harry leaned his shoulder against the cold stonewall. His emerald eyes glowed from within the shadows of his hood, gazing over the people gathered in the hall. He picked out the different Guild members, knowing all the while that his own faction were doing exactly what he was doing. It was hard to forgo all the training and instincts that had been honed to perfection.

"Grey?"

For a moment, Harry didn't even react to the name; it was so new to him. But then his mind seemed to finally register the fact that someone had addressed him and he casually let his gaze settle on a figure standing by him. He nodded respectfully, "Guild Master."

The man chuckled. "Ah, Grey, formalities are not required from one as skilled as yourself."

The fourteen year old snorted. "Right. Never mind the age factor."

"Age is of no consequence here. You know very well that there are Healers and Mages as young as seven."

"True," He mused. "But Assassins tend to be fully qualified before recruitment."

"Yes, I do suppose you were a curiosity for many of us, but I do not regret the fact that our Guild took you in."

"My mum would probably strangle you if she knew half of what I've done."

The Guild Master laughed lightly. "Your mother truly is a wrathful witch and I do not believe any of us would willingly face her temper."

"Not even Remus sticks around when that happens." Letting his eyes trail around the room, he spoke in a soft voice, "What is it a can do for you?"

"My dear boy, it is not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you."

Emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "Like what?" Instincts were springing up and, despite the fact that he respected the cloaked man before him; he was suddenly viewing him as a threat.

"Calm down. I merely wish to give you a gift." He held out a gloved hand. In his palm sat a glittering silver ring. "It has the strongest protection charms I could place on it; more than a few I picked up after looking into the curriculum at Durmstrang. The band will not burn you, despite its silver properties."

Harry reached out and picked the ring up. He stared down at. It was a thick silver band, with an onyx dagger diagonally slashing over it. In the hilt of the small dagger, was a tiny emerald, which winked up at him in the low light. "It's beautiful sir."

"It is befitting, I believe, since you do favour a black dagger, do you not?"

Harry looked up sharply. "Yes, I can't use most normal daggers. Besides, this one's a little more interesting." He grinned, even though it couldn't be seen. "More useful."

"I imagine so. Though, I must admit, the Mages were quite upset when they realised you had discovered the Nexus Blade."

"They can't wield it, so I see no reason for them to have it." He closed his eyes a moment. "And as much as I loathe to admit it, they don't have the strength or power to even touch it."

"Loath to admit, indeed."

END FLASHBACK

Tom snorted. "What? Facing my Death Eaters and me wasn't danger enough? Even back then?"

"No." Harry grinned as he twisted his head around; Tom was frowning and glaring at him. "Honestly, Tom, it isn't an insult. But they were out of practice, and you had just been reborn. Not to mention the fact that they too busy trying to grab a hold of the precious Boy Who Lived to even notice who, or what, I was."

"And the excuse now?"

"Incompetence."

A/N: Guess what? Next chapter is completely dedicated to how Harry became an Assassin, with a few snippets fom his younger years thrown in! Kee...