Chapter 1: The Escape and the beginnings.
Harry James Potter, age 5, was a genius. No joking, the child was a genius in the true sense of the word. His mind worked at paces that were unbelievable. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, only he retained it perfectly, rather than let any out. His mind, bolstered by a photographic memory, contributed to his intelligence. Unfortunately, he did not know how unique and special he was, since he lived with his damnable relatives. He was a handsome boy, well built for his age, despite the lack of food and the beatings. He wore no glasses, and his green eyes were said to be, by his teachers and neighbors, beautiful and enthralling. He was well mannered and graceful, strong and humble. He would not fight back when he was hit, for he knew that he would hurt these people more than they would hurt him. He could tell his aunt hated him, his uncle hated him, and his cousin hated him. But everyone else liked him very much. Dudley's friends used to be his friends until Dudley threatened to beat them up. Then they became his friends, and helped to hit Harry. But Harry did not mind. He could see the reluctance in their eyes, and read it in their minds. There were only two who enjoyed it, apart from Dudley.
He had been able to speak since the age of one, a most shocking occurrence, since in his case, 'speak' meant that he was able to carry on a considerable conversation. He had nearly given his mother a heart attack when at the age of 13 months; he had asked her "Can I have some food?" Apart from the fact that he had said a whole sentence, what was more shocking was that he had used the appropriate inflexions and grammar in his words, and looked completely sure of himself as he said it. He had known his parents, that is, he properly knew them to be his parents for a grand total of three months, and could vividly remember them.
He knew that magic existed, since he had seen his mother, father, godfather and uncle Moony do it many times. He had flown on a broomstick with his father, much to his mother's chagrin and annoyance. He had played with his godfather, who turned into a dog whenever Harry asked him to.
He had seen his Uncle Moony's yellow eyes, and had asked "Why are your eyes yellow?"
Of course, the response annoyed him, "Oh, I don't really know." He had blinked and said "Yes, you do," but he had left it at that, deciding to ignore the incredulous look on his uncle's face.
However, Harry hated the man they called his 'Uncle' Wormtail. When the man picked him up from his cradle, Harry had taken one look at the man's beady, watery eyes, and started bawling. He could feel the ambient evilness in him, and it scared him. Harry had told his mother "I don't like him. He feels bad from inside."
His mother had agreed completely, and she whispered to him as she tucked him in "I know. Your father trusts him, so I will not say anything. He has become our secret keeper."
Harry was unconvinced, but let it go. He still paid no attention to Wormtail, and played only with his uncle and godfather. He had told his shocked uncle "You aren't like Paddy. You are like a dog as well. But you're scared of the dog. You were the dog yesterday. It's ok, I still love you."
His uncle had cried that day, and he hugged baby Harry and said "You do not understand. But you're right. I am like Paddy, but I am also not like him. I love you as well, Harry." His mother, listening from the doorway, wiped away a tear, and left, never speaking a word of it to anyone.
Then came the old man. Harry did not hate him, but he disliked him. He told his parents "Don't tell the old man that I can speak. He wants me for something. I know it." His parents, astounded as ever, nodded, and his mother whispered "We won't. I dislike him; he forces people to do things."
Oh, yes, Harry knew about Magic. He could feel it. He remembered the one spell that he had see from close by, a stunning spell that his Mother tried against the man that came to their house. He could make that spell, if he tried hard enough. He couldn't remember the words, since they were never spoken. It was accidental magic from his mother. He could remember the night his parents died. He remembered his mother's screams "No! Not Harry! Take me instead!" He loved his mother more for it than ever before. When the green light rebounded, he knew the man did not die. He vaguely saw something that scared him, the specter of evil that rose out of the burnt body. It scared him more than the evil in Wormtail.
But he refused to cry. He had not cried since the age of 11 months, which was the last time Wormtail had taken Harry into his arms, until James had told him to stop touching Harry. Harry would not cry, because he didn't want to. He did not cry when his parents died. He did not cry when the evil man with red eyes tried to hurt him. He did not cry when his head got cut. He certainly did not cry when his uncle hit him. He did not cry when his cousin and his friends hit him. He refused to show weakness.
But one day, Harry knew, he would take revenge. He would hurt all those people, his uncle, his aunt, his cousin, his cousin's friends, the man with the red eyes. He would kill them.
Harry knew his family had been rich. He remembered the house, and it was far nicer than the Dursley's home. He knew his parents probably left a will, and left him their money. But he did not tell anyone. He knew the Dursleys would want it, and he would give them nothing. Nothing except death and pain. Harry was not evil, he knew that, but he was dark, and refused to let crimes go unpunished. And he would punish them, using his gift.
Harry had a secret, a secret that he told no one. At the age of three, he had found something, something that lay within him.
It was because of the man with the red eyes. The one who gave him the scar on his face. The scar was the gift. It had hurt one night, and Harry had rubbed it. He focused on the pain, and pushed all his will to stop it from hurting. That's when it happened. That was when the gift was given.
He had found himself in a room. There were no doors, and for the first time in his life, Harry had panicked slightly. He saw a ball of black energy in front of him, which took up most of the room. He walked to it, and touched it carefully. It was solid, and cold to the touch. He walked around, examining it. Then, he found it, a crack. He pushed his finger against the crack, and put it inside the hole. Then it came, the gift, it was given to Harry.
Knowledge. That was the only word for it. It was rushing into his mind. At first, he started to pull away, but then, it came. The magic. Loads of it. Years of knowledge flew into his head, pushing itself into his mind. He learnt eagerly. Curses, Hexes, Spells of all sorts. History, Astronomy, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, about Magical Creatures. Then came the Dark Arts, more knowledge than the rest combined. He learnt nearly eighteen thousand ways to kill a man, to torture, to harm people. He learnt eagerly. He learnt Battle Magic, ways to use single spells to destroy a huge group of people. He learnt Ancient Magic, in different languages. He learnt how to speak in the language of the snakes, the more regal and refined way of speaking the tongue he already knew. He learnt how to use spells in this language, as well as in four other modern languages, French, German, Spanish, and Russian. He learnt a modest amount of Italian, although the spells in that language were less than powerful. Then he learnt Latin.
Then came the memories. He saw a young boy, the same age as he, flinching back from a spider. He saw the same boy, aged 5, being hit by an old man. He saw the boy, at age 11, going to Hogwarts, a school of magic. He saw the boy at different parts of his life, as he became a man. Then, he saw the evil, as the man did disgusting things. He saw the man kill, torture and rape. He saw the blood, the bones and heard the cries. Then he found out who the man really was. He saw the man standing outside a house, laughing as it appeared out of thin air. He saw the man break down the door. He saw the man duel with his father. He felt love and respect for his father as he saw him fight the monster, expertly shooting spells and ducking, and felt the horror as he saw his father die when a green light struck him. He saw the man laugh, and walk up the stairs. He saw his mother, and remembered her last words even as he heard her speak them. He saw the monster kill her. Then, he saw him lift his wand and curse Harry, and saw the flash of light as it hit him back. Then, the memories stopped. He was ejected from the mass of energy, thrown out of the room, and physically repulsed off his rickety cot.
Harry had grinned as he remembered, remembered all the knowledge that had flooded his mind. But it had hurt him, so he studied it carefully, sorting it in his head slowly until he found Occlumency. He marveled at how magic had a solution to his problems. He used it, and spent three hours sorting all his memories. Then he built a wall. The monster, Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, as his name truly was, had built a wall of stone and then one of steel.
Harry was bored, so he built a wall of titanium, which he remembered from a cartoon that he had sneaked in to Dudley's room to watch. Then, he built a wall of black diamond. Then he withdrew from his mind. Harry's childish innocence had made his faith in the strength of those materials so great, that once they permanently snapped into place, they took the strength that Harry wished them to have. Harry felt strong, but he knew he was not strong enough. So he had waited for a time until he was strong enough, to leave. And so he left.
He had learnt all he could from the Library in their village. He read in total nearly twenty thousand books. He knew and understood literature, science, math, languages. He spoke seven languages fluently now, apart from Parseltongue. He spoke English, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian and Latin. He was proud of himself, but not conceited. He met a beggar, who told him how to break and pick locks, and how to steal. And he learnt from the beggar, never one to deny himself new knowledge.
So, on this night, the 28th of September, 1985, Harry James Potter left his Uncle's house. He used a paperclip to pick the lock on his cupboard. He opened the door, and walked to the kitchen. He had eaten nothing for two days, so he did now. It had been his punishment for commenting about a flying motorbike, which he remembered. He ate a huge meal of leftovers, warming them in the oven. Then, he took his uncle's wallet, and pulled out all the money. His uncle had to buy a plane ticket the next morning, so he had 1300 Pounds for the ticket and 238 pounds otherwise. Harry separated the money, putting 750 pounds into each shoe, under the soles, and 38 pounds into his pocket. He had taken Dudley's shoes, which were nice, sturdy boots. He wore a pair of ill-fitting jeans, and a sweatshirt over a tight t-shirt, as well as a baseball cap. His clothes were dark in color.
He took a further 190 pounds from his Aunt's handbag, and filched his uncle's pistol. The pistol was a nice one, since Vernon thought he needed real protection, and a revolver would not do. The pistol was small, and easily concealable on an adult, his uncle's obsession with the small guns from James Bond movies paying off in Harry's case. It was light, and silver in color. He took all the bullets, filled the gun and put the rest in the backpack that Dudley used for school. He put a few protein bars and a bottle of water in as well, as well as a hunting knife that was mounted above the fireplace. He put it into its sheath, and dropped it into the bag. He added some of Dudley's comics, a change of clothes, and his toothbrush and toothpaste. Then, he took Dudley's leather jacket from one year and fifteen pounds ago, the fit perfect on Harry's frame. Then, he opened the door, and walked out; leaving the door wide open, an invitation to any burglars that might come by. He walked down the road, and past Magnolia crescent, grabbing a bus to London in an effort to find the Leakey Cauldron. He needed a wand to do the magic he knew, and nothing would stop him.
So, Harry James Potter, the erstwhile figurehead of the Wizarding World, began his true education. He would find the power to win, or he would die. And Harry was not scared. He did not fear death or pain.
He was five years old.
Six years later, July 31st 1991:
Albus Dumbledore was a patient man. He had received no information about one Harry James Potter, savior of the wizarding world, and future pawn of Albus Dumbledore. True, it was cruel, but Albus felt that if one person's life had to be sacrificed or controlled to make sure that the wizarding world stayed safe, then it wasn't even worth considering. The life must be sacrificed. So, coming back to his predicament, Albus Dumbledore was slowly getting impatient. Nearly two hundred letters had been sent to Number 4 Privet Drive, to no avail. He had seen one of the letters. It had noted Harry's exact address. It read:
Harry James Potter
The Cupboard Under the Stairs
#4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Albus thought 'Under what conditions is the boy living? No matter, it will be easier to make him follow me if he sees me as his yearly rescuer from his relatives." Guilt did not even enter the equation. Albus sighed and decided to visit by himself. It would be the first visit that he made to a home since he had gone to Tom Riddle's orphanage. 'Ah,' he thought, 'the similarities are quite amusing.' If he had thought rationally, Albus Dumbledore should have thought 'Jesus Christ! We need to get this boy into safety, and treat him well! He must not go back to his relatives!' Unfortunately, Albus was a little caught up in his amusement to actually ponder the similarities between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle.
Using his privilege as Headmaster, he flooed to the Leakey Cauldron, and used the Apparation point in Diagon Alley to go to Surrey. On the way to the Apparation point, he bumped into a boy, who looked to be around age 14. Dusting himself off, he smiled at the boy, and was ready to give a jovial condoning to the apology that had to follow, until he noticed that there was no apology coming. He looked a bit confused, and the boy said "Well? Are you going to apologize or are you going to stand there gawping at me?"
Albus scrutinized the boy's pale blue eyes and said "Oh, I'm awfully sorry; I wasn't looking where I was walking. A lot on my mind you kno-" He was cut off by the boy who said "Yeah, that's enough. I asked for an apology, not a sob story." Albus was now more than perplexed. Who was this boy to be so rude to him, Albus Dumbledore, of all people? Why, there were people in the streets pointing at him in reverence! Who was this upstart?
He tried legilimency, but was blocked by the most formidable wall he had ever seen. It was an extremely hard substance, and as could be gathered, when trying to fly through a mind at extremely high speeds, a hard substance was a bit problematic. Albus smashed himself on the shield, pain shooting through his head, and confusing him. This was all that the boy needed, for he reversed the probe, and within a second, zipped through Albus Dumbledore's mind. Within less than a second, the probe removed itself cleanly, leaving no trace of it ever happening, and the memory of the probe being deleted. Albus nearly cried out as he was kicked out viciously, being physically thrown back a few feet. He raised his hand to his head, trying to sooth the ache, and the boy said "Keep the fuck out of my mind, old man! I could have you arrested for trying to rifle through my thoughts."
Albus marveled at the strength of the shield and wondered what it was made of. He raised his head and said "I'm sorry my boy, sometimes it happens involuntarily." The boy snorted, and said "Bullshit. Now get the fuck out of my way, I have things to do." He rudely pushed past Dumbledore, and walked off towards Gringotts. Dumbledore shook his head and thought 'The boy must go to another school.' Forgetting the incident completely, he continued on to the Apparation Point, and popped away to Privet Drive.
He arrived in Little Whinging Park, and walked up to the door of #4 Privet Drive, and rang the bell. A bustling was hear from inside as a voice said "I'll kill the guy if it's the postman, bringing those ruddy letter around!"
The door swung open, and a huge man stood there, and asked "Well? What the hell do you want? And for god's sake, why are you wearing those ruddy clothes?"
Albus Dumbledore thought 'Why are so many people rude today? Oh well, I guess this muggle doesn't know who I am. If he did, he would be falling all over himself to be polite to me." His ego sated, Dumbledore put on his widest smile and pleasantly said "Ah, hello! You must be Vernon Dursley. I have come here to meet a young Harry James Potter. Could you let me in, please? I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hog-" He was interrupted by a squeal from a rather fat boy in the background, and the whiteness of Vernon Dursley's face. Not to mention, the scream of "FREAK!" from a woman with a long neck.
He looked up at her inquisitively and asked "I'm sorry, what?"
The woman returned with "Get away from us, Freak! Don't ever come back here again! The boy left six years ago! He never came back, and he stole so much of our money! I hope the freak is dead! We gave him our food and a nice room to sleep in, and he repaid us by stealing out money! Now, GET OUT!"
She threw a shoe at him, and Albus neatly dodged it and said "Mrs. Dursley, I need to know, where did he go? Six years, you say? My word! You must tell me everything you know immediately!"
She shrieked "I know nothing, you old bastard! You freaks nearly ruined our lives! He just left the house six years ago, and took all our money and Vernon's gun with him! That's all we know! Now get out, and never come back!"
Albus peered at her, and used legilimency to find out the truth. It was appalling; the boy had not only lived in a cupboard for four years, but had been starved and beaten! Albus shook his head, and thought with amusement 'Ah, the similarities do not end at all. Quite rejuvenating, this amusement is.' He nodded curtly to the Dursley family, and left, walking back to the safety of the park to apparate away. Behind his back, he heard Petunia educate Dudley solemnly "Son, Duddy, that was a freak. If you see any of them, always run away quickly."
Back in Diagon Alley, Harry James Potter grinned as he stalked away from his run in with Albus Dumbledore. His mind-craft skills were second to none, and his inclusion of Muggle features to his occlumency and legilimency made him all the more unbeatable. Within his shields, he had configured his mind to run like a computer, and had actually created a 'program' that sorted his memories into various folders, according to the general theme. His probe was a drill with a diamond blade, which easily cut through the defenses of the opponent, and injected his main probe, that split into two. One searched the surface memories, while the more powerful one went through the knowledge, and absorbed it. Then, within a split second, it was over, and the probe returned to Harry's mind, sealing up the hole left behind. Currently, Harry James Potter was in possession of all the knowledge of the two wizards who were widely acknowledged to be the most powerful wizards of the era. Dumbledore's knowledge was being sorted at the moment, and Harry took a brief second to genuinely marvel at the knowledge that the old man had accumulated over 163 years of life.
He grinned once more, as he remembered the unsettled look on the Old Man's face upon Harry's rudeness, and mentally gave a sigh of relief as he thanked god for his Metamorphmagus ability, which hid the scar and changed his facial features slightly to avoid resembling James Potter too much. Harry had managed to get his wand from Ollivander as soon as he came into Diagon alley that night six years ago, startling the old man for the first time in his career. He had picked up a wand that was 11 inches long, and made of Holly with a Phoenix feather core. Harry had quickly grabbed another wand, and obliviated the old man, Tom Riddle's knowledge proving extremely useful. The wand had then been signed down to a Dimitri Rushkov.
As soon as he was out of the door, Harry had removed the tracking charms from his wand, and began his work. Over the next six years, Harry James Potter made himself a name in the depths of Knocturn Alley as Levicorvus, criminal extraordinaire. It did not matter what the job was, or how difficult, Levicorvus was the man to turn to, if his prices were affordable. Smuggling, thievery, assassination, money laundering, Levicorvus did it all. After spending the first two years on his own learning from an expert assassin by name of Jehovah, Levicorvus rose through the assassin ranks quickly. He was quick, clean and precise, and had never failed. No, Jehovah had taught him too well for him to fail.
When he had come into the Alley first, Jehovah had been shocked to see a young boy come into the alley alone at 2 AM. He wondered how stupid the boy must be, but his opinion soon changed when the boy was accosted by a hag. The hag had pulled a knife and demanded to have the boy's money. The boy put on a pretense of being scared, and reached into his bag with trembling hands, only to pull out a gun, a gun, and fire one shot straight into the hag's skull. Needless to say, that hag bothered no-one after that. The boy then dragged her corpse into the shadows, and took all 11 galleons that she carried, frowning at the lack of wealth, and getting up. Jehovah had then walked up to the boy, only to be met by a wand in his face as the boy asked in a cold voice that sent chills down even his back, "What do you want?"
He had replied "Well, lad, a gun was useful, but what can a child like you do with a wand?" The boy simply smirked and slashed his wand at the body of the hag, which exploded upon his hissed spell, blood falling across Jehovah's face. He had stared, shocked, before smiling widely and saying "You know, boy, I think you show a shitload of promise. How would you like to train as an assassin with me? If you perfect your art while young, then you will become one of the best assassins in the world."
The boy looked skeptically at Jehovah, and the lightest tickling sensation entered the pro assassin's mind, his natural and supposedly unbeatable occlumency walls as a Vampire dying as a force crushed them mercilessly, and his mind was ransacked thoroughly. A second later, he was lying on the ground, dazed, as he wondered 'What the fuck just happened?'
He was helped up by the boy, who said "Well, Jehovah," he smirked as the assassin gaped at his knowledge of his name and continued "It would be an honor. It seems you truly are a master of your art, and I would like to have you help me perfect what I just learned from you." In a flash, it all became clear to Jehovah, and he understood that the boy had done the impossible. He had literally absorbed all of his knowledge in a split second, and knew it all perfectly. Now, all that the boy wanted was teaching from the skilled assassin to perfect what he knew down to an art.
He smiled widely, and said "Absolutely. It should help that you raped my mind," he trailed off for a second as the boy smirked, "And I think we can cut down the formal apprenticeship from eight years to two years. Now, a vampire has never taught their arts to a human before, but since you so kindly raped my mind, I might as well teach you. However, we will have to perform what will be only the third blood bonding ritual in Vampiric history to allow you to do such a thing. It will give you our strength, speed, natural skill with weapons and animals, and the ability to be energized by drinking blood, although you will not have to do that if you do not want to. You might receive our weaknesses if your mind is weak, but after seeing, or rather, feeling that, I doubt you will receive any side effects such as problems with sunlight and silver, etc."
The boy nodded solemnly, and stuck his hand out, shaking Jehovah's hand and saying "As my master, I will tell you that my name is Harry James Potter. However, Master or not, I will kill you if anyone is told this. When I bought my wand five minutes ago, Ollivander was gushing over me as if I was some prize. You can call me Levicorvus."
Jehovah grinned, and ruffled Harry's hair, and so started a beautiful friendship, which was ended when Jehovah was killed when Harry was ten years old. Levicorvus stalked the killer for nearly two weeks before the killer was found the next day, literally stapled to the entrance of Diagon Ally by large steel spikes, seventeen broken bones, remnants of nerve damage from overuse of mental and physical torture, and a wooden stake through the heart, even though the man was a human. Above the body, a single word was scrawled in his blood: REVENGE. That night, the name 'Levicorvus' was whispered along the streets of Knocturn Alley, as no-one made to remove the body until the Aurors heard of it the next day.
Jehovah had practically been a father to Harry, and at his earliest convenience, had taken him before the Vampire council, made up of the elders of all the clans in Europe. Vampirism had stayed in Europe, originating from Bulgaria, which was known as Transylvania many centuries ago. They had been instantly enamored by Harry, who treated all people as equals, but treated people who put him down with extreme disdain. He had been polite and courteous, and had not exhibited the least amount of fear, even in the presence of fifteen vampires including Jehovah.
In the end, the request to have a blood-bond with Harry was allowed to Jehovah, and the ceremony was carried out in the Council Mansion. Jehovah not only received the ability to use basic human magic, but became impervious to sunlight, thus allowing for Harry to train with Jehovah in daytime situations as well. The vampire council had made available to the pair an environment where time was changed, using Blood Magic. Although Harry was supposed to be 11 years old, he actually was twelve and a half, but looked fourteen. They had spent random months in the time-altered area to perfect his skills, and Harry came out of the two-year apprenticeship six months early, and advanced to an unbelievable stage, where he was even better than Jehovah himself. His aptitude for knowledge and weaponry was amazing, and Jehovah even took the time to teach him other trades with a few close friends, and Harry learnt not only the various arts that comprised the life of an assassin, but also the skills of a smuggler, a thief, and a businessman.
The last seemed a bit odd, but Levicorvus had worked out so many loopholes and foibles in the laws of the three major countries in Europe, that he knew hundreds of ways of laundering money and legally circumventing the law.
(Five Years Later)
He had traveled widely, doing jobs in various countries. From China to Chile, the name Levicorvus was spoken with great reverence amongst the circles that knew and appreciated his art. He had honed his mind and body down to perfection, and was never caught off-guard. He had taken, despite his age, the most dangerous and risky jobs offered around the world, and accomplished them with such finesse that he made it look easy. An obviously impenetrable location had it's weaknesses exposed brutally by him, and others in his trade looked upon the young assassin with admiration, as his strategic and nimble thinking made all of them look like amateurs, despite the decades that they had been in the business.
A short stint in Japan had given him a boost of knowledge that rivaled the combination of Dumbledore and Voldemort's knowledge. He had spent seven months in Okinawa learning from an eighty-year old man who knew the ways of the Ninja. The man was the last one alive who knew the art in its entirety, and he had chosen Levicorvus after seeing him in action at a bar to bestow his knowledge upon. Of course, Harry could have searched his mind for the information, but there were two reasons that he did not. First, the old man could have died form the pressure of Harry's mind, and secondly, Harry had instinctively seen him as a grandfather of sorts, and wanted to learn from him properly. He learnt all the possible ways of killing, torturing and hurting someone, learning Ninjutsu and Jujitsu from him as well as the use of several weapons including staffs, daggers, throwing knives, guns and swords. He also learned stealth, surprise, camouflage, espionage and one of the most difficult skills, which was to look completely unremarkable at all times, and to divert attention from oneself even if one was firing a gun in the middle of a crowded road. The most useful and powerful skill he learned was the Shadow Arts, a set of skills that only the best of the magical Ninja assassins had learnt. Essentially, he could walk through shadows, moving through wards without a single thought, like teleportation. He could also shroud a space in shadows, draw energy from the darkness, and use tendrils of solid shadow and command them with a thought to violently attack things.
After his training was complete, Harry carried an arsenal of weapons on him. He always had a powerful pistol secured to his right thigh, with specially made bullets that exploded violently upon impact. He wore two eight-inch daggers on his lower legs, in specially made sheathes on his Basilisk Hide boots. He had wand holsters that he had designed and made himself, that looked like gauntlets rather than plaster casts, since they did not inhibit the movement of his wrist. They had a mix of elfish (courtesy of Knobby, his House Elf), Goblin and Vampire magic in them, not to mention ancient runic magic that caused them to respond only to him. They carried eight throwing knives in each holster, which were sent into his hand in an ideal throwing position with a focused thought from Levicorvus. They also carried two wands that he had had crafted especially for him, and he stowed his third wand, the one he got from Ollivander, in his boot. His two powerful wands on his arms were free of tracking charms. They were both extremely powerful, having shocked the wand crafter who made them. The one he wore on his right was made of Treant wood, a fabled wood that grew only in the elfish realm. It should have been a powerful conductor of magic just by itself, but the crafter was shocked when three different items fused themselves to it without any action on his part. It was fused with Basilisk venom, blood of an elder Vampire that was willingly given, as well as Chimera's heartstring. The second wand was made of Basilisk wood, which was the dark and foreboding tree that sprouted when a basilisk decomposed. The difference was that this tree had been on the island of Azkaban for nearly four thousand years, and had soaked up the essence of the Dementors and the darkness of the prisoners like a sponge. It was fused with Harry's own blood, phoenix tears, Dementor's skin and the crushed fang of a Griffin who was the alpha male of its pride. Harry had left the shop practically floating with the power of the wands, leaving an obliviated wand crafter behind him, who was puzzled as to the disappearance of his most valuable and rare materials.
Harry's most powerful and useful weapon apart from his wands was a pair of 'Wakizashi'. These were shorter versions of the Katana, and he wore them criss-crossed on his back. He had made them himself. They were enchanted with Vampiric, Elfish, Goblin, Human and Mermish magic, and had many incredible features that made them both extremely powerful and useful. First, they were made out of an incredibly strong, yet light metal called Taurite, which was an alloy of steel, iron, gold and a metallic substance that had been found at the site of a meteor crash in Japan two centuries ago. The blades were silver in color, with streaks of gold whipping across the blade at random points. The handles were ornate and exotic, as were the scabbards, created out of delicately carved wood and metal with a comfortable handle that was spelled to resist slipping out of the wielder's hands. The runes and enchantments caused it to be unbreakable, infinitely sharp and self cleaning. Harry had carried out a ritual on each of the blades that blood-bound them to him, which meant that no-one but him could wield them without suffering intense pain. If he uttered a command, they would immediately return to their scabbards, which would place themselves on his back in their proper position. He could call them from anywhere in the world and they would simply materialize upon his back. Additionally, they had an extremely complex enchantment upon them that basically turned them into Katanas with a command from Harry. The blade would simply elongate and form a perfectly sized Katana, and then shrink upon another command. The last thing about these blades that was so useful to Harry was the fact that they had magical cores. Harry had extensively looked for the exact same cores of his two most powerful wands, and had fitted them to the respective Wakizashi, thus enabling him to cast spells through them with equal force as with his wands. His general tactic was to use his martial arts training and his weapons training from Japan to attack, while wordlessly releasing exploding hexes through his blades when they made cuts, thus making irreparable holes in his enemies. The cuts he made were also un-treatable by magical means due to the enchantments on the blades, which left an anti-magic residue on the wounds.
Oh yes, Levicorvus was certainly the most dangerous man alive. He carried himself with a cold grace that practically warned people not to fuck with him. He was well known in the magical world by all creatures, but mainly the Vampires, Werewolves and the Goblins. His connection to the Vampires was obvious, since he had blood-bonded with one of the most skilled and respected Vampires in existence, and he was the favorite of the council, who looked upon him with fatherly pride as they read and heard about his achievements. The Vampires had bestowed upon him a great gift, which was given to him through a small fusion in his blood. After the fusion, his scent carried a particular component that warned all Vampires that he was to be left unharmed and treated with the greatest of respect.
Levicorvus had also met with a few Werewolves during one of his jaunts in London. He had stepped out of a Wizarding bar in Dublin, only to see a Ministry Hit-Wizard preparing to murder three incapacitated werewolves. He had immediately come to their rescue, the natural aversion of Vampires to Werewolves being overridden by his nature to protect the innocent. With a snarl, Harry had bared his teeth at the Hit-Wizard, who shrank back as he saw Levicorvus' canines elongate viciously. He had pulled out a dagger, and viciously attacked the wizard, leaving him a bloody mess on the floor with his ears and nose cut off, and had cut a message across the man's chest that read 'Don't fuck with Vampires or Werewolves.' He had healed the fallen Werewolves in one of his safe houses, and they had thanked him profusely for his actions. He found that one of them was an elder Werewolf who had become a Lycan due to his complete acceptance of his transformation, which meant he no longer received any pain or weariness, and could transform at will. The werewolves had given him their thanks, and had made fast friends with him, and Levicorvus had helped them so far as to facilitate a peace treaty between the Vampires and Werewolves, which brought an end to a nearly 700 year old war. He was easily accepted in Werewolf controlled bars, etc. and did a lot of work for them helping to terminate Hunters from the Ministry.
His relationship with the Goblins was another plus. He respected their affinity for finances, and they respected his ability and intelligence. Their mutual respect meant that he was the only wizard that the Goblins placed any trust in, and through a close friend, Griphook the Seventh, Levicorvus was introduced to the Manager of Gringotts, Lord Gainhok the Great, and became close acquaintances with him. Of course, they were not friends, but merely business partners. It certainly helped that with the Potter fortunes and the vast amounts of money that Harry made through his line of work, he was one of Gringotts' best clients. While Dumbledore had previously called for a Goblin to monitor Harry's finances, Harry's relationship with the Goblins meant that Dumbledore was fed false information constantly, and Harry was surreptitiously given control of his vaults even through he was underage.
Harry's odd friendship with an energetic House-Elf named Knobby had also allowed him to learn the tiniest bit of elfish magic, which was basically how to circumvent wards while he apparated by uttering a spell that would make a tiny hole that sealed up immediately. Of course, it was dangerous for a man in his position to have so many friends, but Assassin Levicorvus of the First Class had oaths of loyalty and friendship from both the Goblins and the Werewolves, as well as a Blood Pact of Brotherhood from the Vampires that put him in the unique position of being unbelievably powerful with three entire races of creatures that would defend him if need be. It only served to make him more formidable.
Harry got down to planning his next assassination, this time his target being through his muggle contacts. Harry worked equally in the Muggle and Magical worlds, and had a bank account that was ridiculously full of money in the Caymans. He had undertaken jobs all over the world, in the remotest of countries. He met with the most powerful of wizards and witches in these countries, and during his meetings, would ransack their minds for new knowledge, which he gratefully stored into his mind, adding to his arsenal of ass-kickery.
Oh yes, Assassin Levicorvus was certainly experienced, powerful and knowledgeable.
Far away in Hogwarts, Albus sat in frustration, as his spells refused to find Harry Potter. They answer was "Non-existent." He growled, and threw the intricate gadget that he had used to find him against the wall, momentarily forgetting that that was the artifact in which Harry Potter's locked power had been siphoned. He screamed in anger as it broke, a ball of energy disappearing, and no doubt finding Harry Potter wherever he was.
He vowed to find Harry Potter, and to force him under control and mould him into his weapon against Voldemort. Albus cursed, the little puzzles that he had set up to test Harry's resilience were useless if he did not come to school, and his little deal with the Weasley boy, who was only too eager to spy on Harry Potter for the Great Albus Dumbledore, was currently useless. He growled audibly "Harry Potter, I'll find you, if it's the last thing I do."
Harry was going over his placement during his target's speech when a ball of energy suddenly dove into him, his power for the first time feeling palpable and tangible to him. He felt energized and secure, and felt pride at the unbelievable power he had at his fingertips, waiting to explode out of him at his command. Harry examined his three wands, picking them up one by one and reveling in the surge of power he experienced. With so much magic in him, his Blood Magic would thrive like never before. Unbeknownst to Harry, he had just become the most powerful entity on earth, or rather; he would be the most powerful entity on earth after his magical maturation.
Of course, there was a ritual to hasten it, but it tended to warp one's features and affect the mind slightly, and Harry did not want to risk anything despite his mind shields and Metamorphmagus skills, so he chose to simply wait until he turned seventeen.
Levicorvus grinned evilly, as his current job just became a whole lot easier.
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