Author's Note: So this is my response to Dis Lexic's Magic Knight Challenge. It is a cross over between Harry Potter and Campione with a bit of Dragon Age: Inquisition and Dragon's Dogma, two of my favorite games.

It was a cold November night. Silent save for the rare howling of the window. A lone cat sat perched atop a brick wall, its slitted eyes darting from shadow to shadow watching everything. As if moved by an unseen force the feline stalked towards the middle of the road a sentry in the middle of the one way in and out of the cul-de-sac. It barely had a chance to sit back on its haunches when a sound like gunfire broke the silence. Crack! Crack! Crack! The once lone cat was suddenly surrounded by 3 cloaked figures, its eyes narrowing as its tail poised straight into the air. The lead figure was something that was rarely ever seen in the 'normal' street of Privet Drive, his clothes would not have been out of place in a fantasy reenactment of Renaissance festival. He was tall, thin, and very old his beard and hair a dull white. His beard was tucked into his belt and atop his head he wore a blue wide brim pointed cap decorated with silver stars. He wore long robes, a purple cloak that dragged the ground and high-heeled buckled boots. His blue eyes normally twinkling in merriment were subdued, dull and filled with sadness behind his half-moon spectacles. His nose was long and crooked as if it had been repeatedly broken and never set properly. If any of the inhabitants of the street had seen him no doubt he would've had to make a quick getaway as everything about him screamed 'unnatural' and that was not welcome in this 'normal' neighborhood.

Albus however did not care, and was busy rummaging around his sleeves, pulling out odd bits and gadgets before putting them back, as he searched for something. "Aha!" He exclaimed pulling out what looked like a silver lighter. Flicking the top open he spun the wheel, and only instead of creating a flame the nearest street light suddenly went out, a ball of light zooming into the lighter. Over and over he repeated the action until not a single street light remained, the only light coming from a house at the other end of the street. Once this was done he stowed the lighter back in his sleeves and turned his attention to the cat that was in front of him.

"Good evening Professor McGonagall." The cloaked figure on his right greeted, her voice light and melodic. She pushed back the cowl of the cloak and shook free her fiery locks, her piercing green eyes locking with the slitted amber pupils of the cat.

The cat now identified as Professor McGonagall shifted, her form growing larger and more human as the seconds passed, until a stern looking woman, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, stood before them dressed in emerald robes. "And a good evening to you Albus." She greeted before turning to her former students, warmly. "Lily, James the both of you are no longer students of mine, please call me Minerva."

"Ok Mini." James grinned, enjoying the slight ribbing he gave his god-mother.

She smiled at her godson, "scamp." Before she turned to the group. "How did you know it was me?"

James gave snorted, "I've never seen such a stern looking cat."

"Nor one who sat so stiffly." Dumbledore chimed.

"For me it was the markings on your face, they remind me of your glasses." Lily answered.

"You'd be stiff too if you had been sitting atop a wall all day."

"All day?" Dumbledore said surprised. "You didn't celebrate?"

"I'm not like the others; excessive frivolity to the point that they've repeatedly broken the Statute of Secrecy is not the way I choose to celebrate." She hissed in anger, her opinion on those that were blatantly ignoring the rules was crystal clear. "To think that one Dark Lord has fallen only for us to be exposed to the Muggle World! It'd be a nightmare!"

"True, but this is the first time we've had peace in a decade." Dumbledore pointed out. "Their merriment is expected since some have never known peace their entire lives."

Her face softened as she nodded. "And how are you Lily, James? Why aren't you at St. Mungo's getting treated? It hasn't even been 3 days since the attack on Halloween."

James just shook his head. "The healers checked us out already. Both of us were hit by some sort of dark stunning spell but they told us there should be no residual effects that won't clear up within a week."

"You're awfully calm for having been attacked by the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history." Minerva deadpanned.

"Calming draught." Lily said. "Lots and lots of calming draught."

In a rare show of affection Minerva hugged her former student tightly. The dam of emotions broke down, and Lily began to weep. "Harry's magic is broken." She grieved. Minerva turned to James, only to see him already in the process of erecting a privacy ward around the group.

"Let it out, child.' Minerva said hugging her tighter.

"When Voldemort attacked." Lily cried, ignoring the slight flinch that Minerva displayed at the name. "He attacked the twins. There was some sort of accidental magic, it blocked his killing curse, but left a scar on Rose's forehead. Harry's core was broken in the shockwave, and the Healers say that he's less than a squib right now."

"Is that why we're here tonight?" Minerva asked.

Lily nodded, wiping away her tears. "He'll never be able to do magic, it's better for him to grow up here unaware of our world. My sister, Petunia, is a muggle and she'll take care of him."

"Surely you jest?" Minerva blurted. "The muggles here are the worst sort! There must be another option!"

At this Dumbledore shook his head. "It needs to be a blood relative, for the protections we're going to erect, to work. Not too many know about young Harry, and Rose is already being hailed as the girl who lived. Without magic Harry will be defenseless against the Dark Lord's supporters, he needs to stay here."

Minerva nodded her head glumly in acceptance of her mentor's words. "Are you going to leave him with anything of our world?"

"No," James said shaking his head sadly. "As they say ignorance is bliss, and even though he has no magic and cannot live in our world I want the best for my son. Let him grow up happy in this mundane life. Let him find a girl and have them grow old together, hopefully their child will be blessed be magic."

"It's a hope that we all share." Albus stated.

James nodded. "He was born with the ability to wield magic, but this accident has left him broken. I will not cut him from our family tree, his magical descendants will always be Potters." He declared.

"Where is Harry anyway?" Minerva asked.

"Sirius is bringing him.' Lily said softly, her sobbing muffled behind a handkerchief that she used to dab at her tears.

"He's late." Dumbledore said, only for the sound of rumbling to be heard overhead. The sound grew louder and louder until a large motorcycle came down fast, and fishtailed to a stop turning 180 degrees until the left side of the motorcycle was inches away from Minerva and Lily.

"Someone mention my name?" Sirius smirked.

"Stop fooling around." Lily snapped. "Are you crazy?! You brought my son on that flying deathtrap of a machine!"

"I enchanted her myself Lily! She's perfectly safe, and I guarantee that she won't fail me." Sirius complained.

"How many tries did it take you to actually get it right?" She pointed out, and when he was silent enlightened the rest of the group. "38 different prototypes before this one came along. My money is on it failing eventually from some fatal flaw that you missed."

Sirius cried crocodile tears, clutching his heart, "oh how you have wounded me fair maiden."

"Be serious!" Lily hissed, her anger taking hold. "And if you dare make a joke out of that I'll have you neutered."

That instantly shut the man/grim up a look of horror on his face.

"Now give me my son." She commanded holding open her arms. Sirius wisely handed Harry over, though he did take one last chance to kiss him on the forehead.

"Careful not to wake him. He passed out just as we were flying over Bristol." Sirius warned.

Everyone crowded around the child, ready to say their final farewells.

"Goodbye Harry." Dumbledore said, running the back of his finger against the boy's cheek, checking one last time to make sure that they weren't mistaken about the boy's condition.

"Goodbye little one." Minerva whispered laying a kiss on his brow. She remembered all the times that she had watched over the young boy. His giggling as she bounced him up and down her knee. How he had clung to her robes whenever he had fallen asleep.

"Grow up strong and proud my son." James said holding his son one final time. "Oh how I dreamed of all the things that we would do as father and son. The pranking and flying. I'll never get to see you chasing after girls, or more likely girls chasing after you." He smiled humorlessly, his eyes damp with unshed tears. "I'm going to miss you Harry."

"Bye prongslet." Sirius said sadly. "I wish I could've been there for all the Godfather/godson moments. Your first beer, the first hangover, the first night you spend in jail, and other great firsts that we'll never have together."

"Goodbye my son." Lily began. "Know that wherever you are that Mommy always loved you. You'll be safe here."

Placing her son on the doorstep she weaved several protective wards around him to protect him from the cold and to make sure that her sister would be the one to find him. Then she placed a letter atop his crib, before stepping back. "I'm ready." She nodded to Dumbledore.

Together they began to weave powerful and complex wards around the property shielding it from portkeys and apparition, as well as intent based wards meant to stop a person from entering if they meant Harry ill. She anchored the wards to a stone pillar that she buried in the backyard and then tied herself into it so that she would be alerted should someone attempt to breach them. With a final gesture a dome the size of the property crashed down onto the yard burying itself into the ground so that a person would not be able to burrow underneath in an attempt to circumvent the wards. She staggered in place threatening to fall over, before she found herself supported by her husband. Turning she saw Minerva supporting Dumbledore who looked slightly winded.

"It's done." She said. "Our baby is as protected as we can make him. No one who wishes him harm can now enter this home."

For several minutes everyone silently watched the child, grieving in their own ways. "What are we to do now?" Minerva finally spoke up breaking the silence.

"I'm going to hunt down Peter and get the bastard." Sirius growled, moving towards his motorcycle.

"Good luck and be safe, brother." James wished. The motorcycle roared to life before Sirius turned it and sped off gaining speed before it lifted off.

"What about you two?" Minerva asked the couple.

"We'll fade from the public for a while we need to grieve in our own way." Lily answered.

"The public is sure to hound you no matter where you go." Minerva pointed out.

James just smiled. "They won't find us, and this time we'll be using something a lot more powerful than a fidelius to hide. We need to be alone, though you can still contact us in case of emergencies."

She nodded, before two cracks resounded signaling her former pupils departure. "And you Albus?"

"We must move forward. The Dark Lord has fallen and we now we need to do as we have always done and pick up the pieces after the war."

Little did they know that the protections erected would not take into account the actions of those who shared blood. A simple mistake would sentence an innocent child to years of abuse and neglect. However if they had known of Petunia's and her husband's disdain for magic as well as the deep seated jealousy that she harbored of Lily, her parents favored child they might have altogether abandoned the idea of placing their son here. An orphanage would've been a much safer place than the Hell he was sent to.

Harry Potter was not having a good day. In fact nowhere in his memories did he really have a good day. In his mind he seemed destined to go from bad event to worse at the drop of a hat. Right now he was locked in the smallest cupboard under the stairs in the Hellhole that was Privet Drive. It was a Hellhole since his first wakening moment, and did not deserve to be called a home. Sometimes in the haze after his daily beating flashes of a woman with red hair and green eyes would pass through his mind. She was often accompanied by a spectacled man with a mop of black hair that never seemed to sit right, often times strands sticking up in defiance declaring it unable to be tamed. The first and last time he had asked Petunia about them he had received a beating that left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs. The memories of being beaten by Vernon's meaty fists and Petunia's kicks as she screamed about how worthless he was, and how his parents abandoned him on the doorstep because they didn't want him. It was that last comment that had cut him the deepest the first time he had heard it, but it had also instilled within him a desire to know exactly who his parents were. Petunia never spoke of them, he didn't even know if they were alive or not! However every now and then she would curse a woman named Lily, often moving her mouth in a mocking way as she went about the house.

She never raised anything heavier than a cast iron skillet, her favored weapon for the random beatings that he was administered. When they had found about his 'freakiness' in being quick to heal they took it as a challenge, beating every inch of him with different instruments to see how far they could go. He denied them ever seeing tears after the first time it had happened, and one time when he was forced to cook for them he had purposely dropped the heavy and hot cast iron pot on Vernon causing third degree burns on his chest. It was a small revenge on the man that had made his entire life Hell. The beating that he received afterwards couldn't even faze the maniacal smile that he wore. Every time he was forced to cook for them and carried the pot to the table he enjoyed Vernon's flinching and his look of fear. Granted it was a legitimate fear since the burn had left permanent scarring.

Even school offered no respite for him. Here Dudley seemed to make it his personal mission to make sure that he made no friends and that the Hell at home continued. He was isolated and easy pickings for Dudley and his friends, the teachers unwilling to help outside of the classroom. The physical beatings he scoffed at, and he refused to back down to Dudley and his friends. He may have gone down in the end every time but he made sure to carve off his pound of flesh. Even the teachers were against him, often times caning him for being a disruptive influence in their class. He remembered the first time it had happened, he had been nursing a broken arm in the back of the classroom and had asked to go to the nurse. He received 10 lashes when he decided to no longer be ignored and dead simply walked out of the classroom. The nurse had then refused to help him without a note from his teacher allowing for him to even visit. He left her office grumbling about the 'old biddy' in the office and how he hated her.

After physically suffering at the pig's hands he made it his personal mission to be better than his cousin in everything that could possibly leave a record. The pain that he received for being better than Petunia's precious little Duddykins was made bearable by the fact that she had taped Dudley's barely passing work to the fridge door. He laughed at the big red D that was on it. His cousin, not that he would ever call the three of them family, stupidly thought the D stood for Dudley and didn't understand his own pitiful intelligence. Personally Harry thought it more likely stood for Dunce rather than the boy's name. He was sure that if it was possible the boy would've been failed out for his poor academics, it was too bad his current level of education was compulsory and as such the rest of the class had to suffer with him bringing down the collective average. He wondered why if his aunt thought he was such a disappointment and drain on their finances they would send him with his cousin to a private institution that took its education seriously enough that they would make it clear that the student's intelligence was deficient. Hence why they handed out letter grades and tested them often on material learned.

Now, now the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel could be seen. Soon the class would be taking a trip to London to see the sights and nothing Petunia or Vernon could do would prevent him from the trip. If they pulled him the other parents would talk even if their children didn't interact with him, they had to let him go in order to maintain the mirage of normalcy. One more day, until the trip, just one more day he would have to put up with the Dursleys, and then it would be over. Now he was sitting in his little cupboard, his ribs cracked as he bit down on his an old leather belt as he struggled against the pain. Every time he took a breath his chest burned in agony and he was forced to bite down lest he scream in pain. Coupled with his shortness of breath, his blinding headache and fading vision caused no doubt caused by his hypoxia, he was not in a good place. Suddenly feeling nauseous he barely had time to turn his head else he would've vomited on the lumpy bedspread that Petunia had deigned to call a mattress. The smell was overpowering and it was the last straw, he passed out inches from a puddle of his vomitus.

When Harry awoke he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. The room was dark as always, the Dursleys never installed a light for him, and he never had a watch. Pushing against the door he found it locked, the gate in which the only light to his little cubby came through sealed shut. With nothing else to do he took a seat on his bed his legs folded underneath him, hands on his knees. The key to meditation was controlled breathing something that had taken a few sessions to understand. The first time he had experienced meditation in PE he had thought it was silly until he found how it let him recall his memories easily and allowed him to focus his mind. Since then he made sure to spend an hour or two before he went to sleep and when he woke up just clearing his mind, either preparing himself for the day's events or reviewing what happened during the day. Now he was reviewing the previous day's events trying to figure out if this was just another random beating by Vernon or if he had given the whale a reason to do so. A smile blossomed on his face as he remembered what had put Vernon in such a snit. The tub of lard had been coming home from work speeding through traffic on the M when his brakes had failed, resulting in him plowing into a bobby's cruiser. The man had been cussing up a stop as the officer tried to calm him down, and Vernon being the intelligent being he is called the copper Filth, and tried to run. He imagined the bobby laughing as he easily caught up to the whale and put him in cuffs and charged him with resisting arrest and fleeing from the scene of an accident. His running across lanes of traffic ended up causing another accident, a four car pileup that while thankfully had no fatalities resulted in several serious injuries. His future was bleak as he faced a slew of civil suits from those injured in the two accidents he caused.

When he finally returned from being interrogated, he had come in limping, and bowlegged. Harry smiled at the image, it looked like the officers had not been very gentle in their questioning, subjecting the man to a full body cavity search. His bad luck held just a little longer as he attempted to eat dinner. When he heated up his food the power grid decided that it was time to go. The resulting electrical discharge fried anything that was my plugged in, overloading all the safeties and causing thousands of pounds of damage. Vernon eating a cold dinner, in the dark, had not had a good day. He refused to use a candle fearing that it might cause something to spontaneously combust and ignite the whole house in a massive fireball. To put it lightly the man was pissed and in his anger struck out against Harry who as usual was blamed for everything. Harry however had no idea as to how any of these things happened, though he sadistically wished that Vernon's heart would finally give out. You could only experience so many near death and blood pressure raising incidents before a man of his stature keeled over from a variety of diseases. He personally had his money on a stroke or an aneurysm if the purple color the man's face sometimes turned was anything to go by.

Fast forwarding past the events that led to his current imprisonment, he reviewed every pain and throb in his body. Over the night his rapid healing had kicked in and any of the serious injuries that he suffered had mostly been healed. Smaller wounds like cuts, scrapes, burns, and bruises were still visible as his body prioritized healing the serious wounds. He was still sore and sitting as he was quite painful. His own internal clock told him that it was most likely early morning. Petunia or Vernon always woke him up before the sun rose, forcing him to do early morning chores before forcing him to cook breakfast for them.

He was so use to the routine that he had no doubt in his mind that he was always the first one awake in the house. Doubly so for weekends. He didn't even open his eyes when the chains on his door began to rattle, and as numerous locks were clicked open and deadbolts retracted. Burning light flooded the small cupboard, and he knew better than to open his eyes fully instead squinting and allowing himself to get used to the light. Petunia stood at the threshold of his little home, looking considerably worse for wear, cradling a large candle in her hand. Hmmm, seems like the electric hasn't been restored yet. He mused. She also didn't have the same fears as Vernon if she was willing to use a candle as light.

"Freak!" She spat, though her voice lacked the typical venom. Probably from having all of these things happen to her last night. He mused.

She'd never admit it but his piercing green and cold eyes unnerved her, it was as if they were boring a hole into the very depths of her soul. She stepped out of the doorframe, letting him pass unmolested, something that Vernon and Dudley rarely did. Normally they would slug him in the arm of hit him in the back of his head as he passed them. Sometimes when he passed by the stairs Dudley would try to push him down, only once had he succeeded. She frog marched him to the bathroom, "You have two minutes."

Moving quickly he splashed the icy water on his face, dispelling and remnants of sleepiness he may have had. He wished he had time to take a shower, but knew that even if he were able to it would be nothing but more cold water. 'Freaks don't deserve hot water!' He remembered Petunia screaming before she threw him out of the bathroom the first time he had asked for it. Sighing to himself he finished his morning ministrations and trudged down to the kitchen to begin breakfast. His walrus of an uncle and whale of a cousin came down just as he was finishing the massive portions of Fry-up that would normally be able to feed a large group of people, yet was just enough to feed the two.

After cleaning up the kitchen he took out the trash, and changed into the tawdry uniform that was their school's standards. While Dudley was to be driven to school, and could afford to sit around and watch the telly, he had no such luxury. He ran the distance, timing himself on a ratty watch that he had managed to find in the trash. Arriving at the gate of the school with minutes to spare he headed to the bathroom where he cleaned himself up, wiping off the sweat and getting a drink of water, before heading to class.

In any other school he was sure that the teachers would've been fired for the way that they treated him, and other so called 'disruptive elements', and even though he didn't do anything he was labeled as the rung leader of these individuals. As time passed however he began to accept the label more and more, conforming to the standard that the teachers thought he was. Oh they continually tried to fail him, but a single word from the Headmaster had stopped that, so they switched to a more passive approach, spouting snide comments and trying to trick him with questions. He retaliated bringing together the disruptive students, those who didn't fit with the model of the ideal school student, and began playing pranks on the teachers.

It had started small, purposely moving around the teacher's paperwork when they weren't looking, hiding the chalk, shooting spitballs, things like that, but as the teachers became more vicious so did they. Tacks were placed in the shoes, and on chairs. Sometimes teachers 'tripped' with a helping hand or foot, and in one case one of the more radical students managed to loosen the bolts on the teacher's chair legs resulting in them falling over the first time they had sat down.

The teachers knew that he was the one in charge of the radicals, but were unable to prove anything, and the Headmaster refused to expel or even suspend anyone without solid proof.

Today though the teacher was in for a bit of psychological warfare as he and the rest of the radicals kept smirking/sneering at the poor man causing him to jump at shadows. They had hit the man with everything from tacks to superglue, and the pranks had clearly frazzled the man's nerves. At the end of the day when the final bell had rung Harry walked up to the teacher and grinned. "Have a nice day Mr. Smith. Drive safely; we wouldn't want you to get into any accidents on the way to your home on the corner of Wisteria and Saxon." He took pleasure in the fearful look on the man's face as Harry casually spouted off where he lived. The man scampered off causing Harry to laugh as he walked out into the playground.

"Hey Freak!"

Harry sighed, inwardly cursing himself for allowing himself to be caught alone. Turning around he saw his cousin and several of his friends approaching, all looking at him with their small piggy eyes. "We want to play a game with you, we call it Harry Hunting."

"Go back to the slaughterhouse where you belong Dudley." He said flippantly, preparing himself to run. He was confident in his own speed, there was no way that his overweight cousin would be able to overtake him, and he was sure that without Dudley's lead the others would revert to nothing more than mindless sheep.

"What did you say Freak?" Dudley roared, lunging at him, his sausage like fingers stretched to throttle him. He casually took a step back, kicking the boy's legs from underneath him.

"You heard me piggy." He sneered. Dudley's friends moved to attack him, so he turned and ran taking great pleasure in Dudley's huffing and puffing as he tried to get up from the ground.

I wish I wasn't here. Harry thought to himself, looking at the roof of the building in front of him. It would be the perfect hiding place from Dudley who was deathly afraid of heights, allowing him to plan his counterattack. Maybe I should slip something into their food tomorrow. He thought.

His foot caught on the ground, spinning him around. "Bugger." He swore, before feel the world fade around him. The next thing he knew he was on the roof of the building looking down as Dudley, who had finally managed to get up, and his friends were running down the street. How did I get up here?

He had no answer to that question, except for the one that his uncle and aunt kept telling him. "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!" They would constantly spout, before launching into another tirade about his freakiness and how he was such a drain on their resources.

"Magic." Harry whispered. "That's how I had to have gotten up here."

"I can do magic." He laughed a soft thing at first that quickly crescendoed into a mad cackling. "They lied to me. Magic does exist, and magic is me."

He wiped a hand down his face as he tried to regain his composure. "I can teleport myself, it seems. However the question now is how do I get down from here?" Staring at the ground with all his might he said. "Abracadabra?"

Nothing happened.

"Alakazam? Hocus Pocus? Shazam?" He tried the different words that he had read about and yet nothing happened. "Maybe I don't need a word? I didn't say anything special to get myself up here."

Stomping on the ground, he spun around keeping his focus on the ground. The fading feeling returned, and with a whoosh he appeared back on the ground, where he proceeded to throw up everything he ever ate.

"Damn." He spat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Maybe I shouldn't do that again."

He giggled at the thought. "Oh what the hell, I've got magic!" He grinned focusing himself once more, and feeling the world fade around him. He reappeared at the throat of the cul-de-sac that ended with #4 Privet Drive. Thankfully the feeling of nausea quickly faded as he walked back to his prison. This makes things interesting. I wonder what else they lied about.

Today's the day. Harry thought giddily, as he made breakfast once more. He followed the same routine as the previous day, but instead of leaving early and having to run to get to school on time he walked slowly, thinking about how his teleporting ability would be a game changer. Vernon had almost had a heart attack last night when he had come down for his nightly beating, only to find his usual target able to escape with ease. He had laughed as the man huffed and puffed trying to come at him with his belt. It finally ended when he faded behind the man and pushed him over resulting in 5 minutes of comedy as he flailed his arms in an attempt to get himself back up. Petunia could only stare in horror the whole time, especially once he faded into the kitchen and picked up the cast iron skillet that she had used to hit him when he was younger. He had enjoyed the resounding 'thunk' the skillet made contact with Dudley's knees.

After his cousin had fallen to the floor he went upstairs and took Dudley's room, making sure to lock the door behind him, ignoring the Horse-faced woman's screams. Sleeping on his cousin's bed had given him the most restful night of sleep he ever had and now he was really debating on whether or not to leave.

On one hand it meant that he had to see Piggy, Walrus, and Horse. On the other it allowed him to have a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in at night. If at any time he didn't like it he could simply leave, and nothing they did would be able to stop him. Not to mention the fact that he would be able to eat for himself now. Today was the perfect example, as he had simply made enough food to feed himself and when Petunia had protested he simply sneered, "Be silent, Mongrel."

Just to spite her and her ideal normalcy he teleported himself into the middle of Privet Drive, where a person would be able to see him magically appear. He had turned back to see her gasping from the window in horror. Shooting her a two finger salute he faded once more appearing on the roof of the school. From there it had been a simple matter to make his way to the departure point that his class was gathering at.

The trip to London was uneventful, however as they disembarked from the buses he began to feel a tugging on his senses. It was a subtle thing at first, a nagging like he had forgotten something, but as the day progressed the feeling grew stronger. By midday it had become a whisper in the back of his mind, calling for him and by the time they were about to leave he could no longer ignore the feeling.

Slipping away from the group had been easy enough, as the rest turned a corner he simply hung back and ducked into an alley. It wasn't like the teacher assigned to monitor them was doing his job, so he should have time to figure out what was calling to him.

There's something really off about this. He thought as he continued to walk towards the voice. A child walking around London all alone should've set off warning bells in just about everyone's head, yet they ignored him like he wasn't there. Well even more off than what I'm used to. After all I found out I have magic yesterday and now I'm following a voice to God knows where.

It took him several minutes of walking, the voice growing stronger the closer he got, before finally he came to an ancient looking shop nestled in the shadows of an alley. Placing his hands on the door, he jumped back as it opened. "Hello?" He asked taking a tentative step into the shop. "Is there anyone here?"

Approaching the counter he noticed a sheathed dagger to the side. Carefully picking it up he couldn't help but feel the dread that came with holding the weapon. Its hilt was wrapped in brown leather and there was a black gem that served as a pommel. The crossguard had an aggressive upwards curve that came to wicked sharp looking points, and there was some sort of character carved into the middle. Unsheathing the dagger he saw that the blade came to a razor point with the blade being iron and the inner core an endless black. Just as he was about to touch the blade with his free hand, a hand shot out to grab him by the wrist. "Be careful." A voice hissed.

Looking up he saw an ancient looking man with slate grey eyes staring at him. His grip was like iron, unescapable no matter how much he squirmed. "This razor is cursed." Those words caused him to drop the dagger in disbelief.

The man tutted, grabbing the sheath and slipping it back on to the blade. "It's claimed hundreds of lives and a simple nick would've been enough to activate the curse." The man fussed over the weapon for a few moments before he simply placed it to the side and propped up a placard that warned against touching the blade. "Now what can I do for you today."

Harry stayed silent unsure of how to say he had been following a voice and ended up here. "What's the matter boy? Kneazle got your tongue?"

"Kneazle?"

"I believe that muggles call them cats." The man said. "Now if you're not going to shop I'll have to kindly ask you to leave."

"Wait." Harry said. "I followed a voice here." Bugger why did I say that? Next thing he's going to do is call for a lorry to pick me up and I'll be dragged off to a white padded room.

However against all odds the man turned to look at him. No not look, that was too mild. It was like the man was staring into his soul, searching for something.

A minute later and he seemed to have found what he wanted, as he turned around with a swirl of his cape. "Come alone Mr. Potter I find it best not to keep her waiting."

"Wait how do you know my name?" Harry asked, struggling to keep up with the older man's longer stride.

"I know a great many things, such as the fact that you recently discovered your ability to fade through the barriers that surround the world and reappear where you want. That you were left to your aunt and uncle who abused you since you were a child. You have a sister and parents still alive."

At that he felt something in him snap, and a vase to the side disintegrated to dust. "What did you say?" He asked slowly.

"Your parlor tricks do not intimidate me." The man scoffed waving his hand and reassembling the vase with ease. "Now follow me and keep calm, else I won't hesitate to put you over my knee like the child you're acting."

"I am a child." Harry grumbled.

"Just because you are a child doesn't mean you should act like one. You were called here by something and you need to be mature enough to handle it properly. I remember everything that I've ever sold, some of these items have literally carved their history into the earth, and now it seems like I have to hand one of them to a brat that lacks the ability to understand what exactly he's been gifted with."

"My magic?" Harry asked.

"Pfft." The man mocked. "Your fading isn't real magic. Once upon a time you had the ability to use magic, but when you were but an infant your 'core', the metaphysical organ that allowed you to harness magic was shattered. What you're doing now is utilizing the few shards that survived that violent explosion and mutated themselves to suit your needs. The cantrips that you have now are nothing compared to what true magicians are able to wield, and even those stick waving fools would be able to handle you with ease."

"So if I don't have magic than what am I doing?"

"That I don't know." The man said slowly. "But it seems like fate has something in store for you." He was led to a back room, a single pedestal in the center as rows and rows of items lined the walls. "Now place your hand on the pedestal and allow the call to be heard. You followed it, now it's up to it to come to you and make itself known."

Doing as the man said he heard the call once more, only this time he commanded it. "Come to me." He whispered, feeling something pulse around him.

A green light erupted from the pedestal striking the far wall and quickly expanding along the walls. Row by row it traveled occasionally stopping before continuing on its way. Finally though the light broke off and highlighted two different items, both of which began to float over to him.

"Well that's interesting." The man grumbled. The first item was a book, a large tome with a black metal front and back. It was locked with three different locks and had dozens of runes running along it. The second item was a briefcase that opened itself as soon as it came to rest on the pedestal. Inside was a hilt indistinguishable from any common sword hilt he had seen at any of the museums he had been to. There was no blade, not even a slot for the blade to have been inserted; it was as if it hadn't been designed to accept one.

"What's so interesting about these items?"

"Like I said before Mr. Potter, I remember every item that I've ever sold. These items while once common have fallen into disuse except for certain factions. The book is a grimoire, a repository of spells and teachings normally passed down among family members. Somewhere along your line your ancestors must've penned this tome, as only blood relatives are able to undo the locks. It in conjunction with this hilt tells me more about your future than a peek into a crystal ball. What do you know about the Arthurian Knights?"

"I'm sure any British citizen could tell you a thing or two about King Arthur and his Knights." Harry answered sarcastically.

"Yes, I believe that you're quite correct. The Knights that made up the Round Table were all in some way magical. Back then they used their magic to augment their physical abilities and weapons. These Knight-Enchanters or Mystic Knights as they were called formed the core of the Round Table and were responsible for subduing most of the dangerous magical population that inhabited the British Isles at the time. As time passed the discipline fell into disuse as magicals began to shun physical exercise. The last British Knight-Enchanter was a man named Godric Gryffindor who would later go on to found Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Why aren't there any more Knight-Enchanters?"

"Like I said British wizards began to turn their back on physical combat, however if you leave England the discipline becomes more common. In Italy for example there are several Knight Orders active. This hilt formed the main offensive weapon of the Knight-Enchanter, the spirit blade. Using a ritual an Aspirant would open a gateway into the Fade the domain that lies in between our world and the Boundary of Life and Death. Then they would beseech a spirit to take residence within the hilt. The spirit would serve as a medium to create the blade which because it was an extra-dimensional spirit would allow the blade to bypass any protections the target may have. The blade would literally shift dimensions and reappear within the target causing fatal damage. The only thing capable of stopping a spirit blade was another spirit blade, or to dimensionally lock an area against shifting."

"That's what my fading is, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is." The man nodded. "And lucky for you the spells to dimensionally lock an area are incredibly rare; trust me when I say that you don't want to know what happens when a person attempts to shift themselves into or out of the confines of the area."

A clock chimed in the background. Ding! Ding! Ding! "I believe you should be heading back to your bus, Mr. Potter. We wouldn't want to worry your teacher now would we." The man said holding up his hand.

Harry floated up and was slowly being banished back towards the entrance of the shop. "Wait! I have so many questions still to ask! What about my parents? What else can my magic do? You can't just spring this on me then kick me out."

"Study that grimoire Mr. Potter, the knowledge contained within it is priceless. I can tell you one thing before you leave though. If you continue to study it you will one day meet your family and all your questions will be answered. Until then let me off a final piece of advice, from a child of Cassandra to the last remaining descendent of Mordred. When the time comes, and you'll know it when it does, Ignore the pain, charge forth and make sure not to miss."

The door opened and just as he was banished outside he heard. "Goodbye Hadrian James Pendragon, last scion of the House of Pendragon."

Challenge Information

This challenge idea came from DZ2's Samurai Sorcerer Challenge, mostly because when I was trying to come up with an idea for it I just couldn't think of a reasonable way for Harry to become a Samurai, cool idea as it was. This takes the idea and puts it in a more western setting.

Plot: The Potter family is old, noble and extremely wealthy. However, unknown to almost everyone, the Potters are from a long line of Magical Knights. And now it's time for Harry to take up that mantle.

RULES!

Must be Light or Grey Harry.

Harrys Mentor must become his guardian

Harry's sword must be somehow enchanted

Must be at least one other Magical Knight at Hogwarts

False Prophecy

Harry must have a set of enchanted armour he can summon at will

FORBIDDEN!

Harry allying himself with the Order or Death Eaters

Weak Harry

MOD Harry

SUGGESTIONS!

Crossovers

Harry having a Legendary/Holy Sword

Harry being a descendent of one of Arthur's Knights

Harry being a part of the Knights Templar or some other order of Knights (EG Copper Black Cross, Bronze Black Cross from Campione, Brotherhood of Light from Castlevania Lords of Shadow ETC)

Celestial Magic/Words of Power (see Campione for what I mean. Basically it allows the user to tap into Divine powers through prayer)

Harry having multiple Legendary Weapons (EG, Excalibur, Lance of Destiny, Ascalon etc)

Harry being charged with the protection of a Magical Artefact (EG, the Grail, The Hallows, The Entrance to Avalon ETC)

Students of other warrior paths at Hogwarts (EG, a Samurai)

Any Paring welcome

And that's it for this challenge. I hope people take this on as I think it has potential to spawn an interesting story.