Six years after joining the Varia...
Mammon was not pleased, and if they were irritated, Squalo was downright pissed.
"Let me get this straight. Despite the fact he's never even been to Scotland, much less near this castle, you're telling us that one of ours was somehow selected as champion for some half-assed tournament without his permission or knowledge. And you honestly expect him to participate even though he had no contact with your people?" said Squalo furious.
Hadrian was a pain in the ass, and tricky besides, but he was still one of them. More importantly he was one of the only people who could calm the damn Prince brat when he was in a royal snit, which tended to happen at least once a month and forced them redecorate random sections of headquarters.
Even if Hadrian did have an annoying as hell habit of pranking the shit out of everyone, especially his own Division.
Cloud Division learned to respect their superior despite his age, or else they learned to fear what his mind could come up with to make them respect him. And that was before the damn brat got the Mist division involved, many of whom were more than happy to help set up pranks.
And they were trying to drag their tricky Cloud into a shitty tournament he didn't even enter.
Pull the other leg, it has bells on it.
"I'm afraid the Italian Ministry has given us permission to bring Harry with us," said the old man, eyes twinkling and flaring his Sky flames.
The fat loser with the bowler radiated weak Mist flames.
"Then there is no issue. We don't have a 'Harry' in our headquarters that fits your description. The only people who fit the general age range you're looking for are the Cheshire and the Prince. Neither of whom are named Harry," said Mammon succinctly, hiding behind their illusion so as to be taken serious.
After some debate, someone finally came up with a Varia codename for Hadrian. His official name among the Varia was the "Cheshire" after the cat from Alice in Wonderland.
If Bel ever let her gender be known, Mammon had little doubt she would be given the name Alice, or possibly Queen of Hearts.
"GET BACK HERE YOU BRATS!"
"Make us, Levi-chan!" shouted a voice right back in Japanese. It was quickly followed by some unusual laughter as two teenagers bolted past with the Lightning Guardian right behind them looking pissed. Mostly because his hair was in an afro and a bright pink.
The old man looked at the two Officers with an odd expression.
"Who were they?" he asked pleasantly.
"That would be the Cheshire of the Cloud Division and the Prince of the Storm. Both of whom are for hire, for the right price," said Mammon.
If they were going to try to drag Hadrian to Scotland, they were going to make these idiots pay through the damn nose for it.
The weak Mist squawked in indignation.
"Now see here! You'll receive payment when the Potter boy wins the tournament! It has an automatic prize payout, more than sufficient for any services!"
Mammon had a razor thin smirk on their face, putting to mind the more vicious goblins they two wizards had been forced to deal with in order to find out where their "Champion" actually was since he hadn't shown up to Hogwarts four years ago.
As it was, the Italian Ministry honestly had no idea where he was or even that he was in the country. The boy had been more or less hidden in a very extensive magical organization and had apparently been placed at a very high rank following an unspecified test.
This group was important enough that the Italian Minister had washed his hands of them the second he found out where Potter was and stated explicitly he did "not want to get involved if it could be helped", but had been quick to assure them that this "Varia" was not some dark organization.
The mere fact Harry ended up with them was a fluke, as they normally only accepted those older than sixteen at the very least.
The Italian Minister did everything in his power not to inform the English that the Varia was a Flame-run Assassination unit. Just because they were here to retrieve one of their own didn't mean he liked the fact they tried to strong arm him into handing a mere teenager who hadn't even taken his O.W.L.s over to them for some tournament he couldn't have possibly entered.
Besides, Dumbledore was beyond rude, flaring his aura as blatantly as he had. Let the English dogs find out the hard way that they were dealing with hardened killers. He'd be happy to work out some sort of arrangement for young Potter so he could play catch up on his magical education...in exchange for him staying out of the Ministry later. They didn't need the mafia gaining a foothold in the magical government.
Having to deal with them in the normal one was bad enough.
"You misunderstand. The payment isn't for them to bother showing up. It's to keep him from slaughtering the other champions outright, if his partner doesn't do so for him out of annoyance. Belphegor is highly territorial and dislikes it when others try to mess with what he considers 'his' without his permission. And he has very firmly claimed Cheshire as one of his."
It was shortly after revealing her gender to Mammon that Belphegor dropped the 'peasant' nickname around Hadrian. Now she just called him 'Kitty' because of his nickname.
It was something of an ongoing bet how long it would take before hormones hit both of them hard and things really got interesting. Belphegor had an amusing habit of leaning against Hadrian, draping herself over his shoulders like a particularly vicious cat. If they weren't working, she was usually next to or on him in some way, occasionally laying her head in his lap.
The message was abundantly clear to the lesser Varia members... "He's mine, so back off or else".
Though there was one rather memorable incident when one of the more...homophobic idiots...made comments about the fact Belphegor was clearly attracted to Hadrian while Luss was within hearing. The man hadn't been subtle, and had shot all three of them a look.
Luss had looked annoyed and resigned, but Belphegor had stiffened before a rather strong wave of bloodlust filled the room. It had taken weeks to clean off the blood and mess.
After that there was a rather odd shift in the Varia. Namely people were alerted to the fact Belphegor took any discrimination outside of the usual ones they had for civilians and "weak trash" very personally and would not hesitate to gut anyone who voiced such stupidity in her presence. Especially if they were mocking women for their gender. For all her faults, Belphegor hated discrimination above all else, especially when it was about calling women weak.
Considering she had grown up around the more extreme end of such treatment and knew exactly how it felt to be on the wrong side of it, she had no tolerance for it in any form.
Seeing the old man look like he swallowed a particularly unpleasant lemon, Squalo smirked.
"I'm afraid we only need Mr. Potter," emphasized the old man. Like he was trying to avoid something.
"Belphegor and Cheshire are a paired unit. You cannot have one without the other. And as their senior, you would also have to deal with my presence as well," said Mammon bluntly. If they wanted Hadrian, they would have to deal with the Terrifying Trio as they were called.
The old man and the weak Mist looked rather pained.
"How much?" he asked reluctantly.
Mammon resisted the urge to smirk. Wizards had no true value of money outside their pathetic gold. And they rarely bothered to check the conversion rates.
What followed was a brief, if painful (for the old man and the idiot next to him) negotiation. Mammon played them like fiddles, because neither of them had any idea what the conversion rate from Italian currency to Galleon was.
They were going to be paying well above what the prize money was worth, and they was going to gouge them for as much as these idiots were worth via the goblins.
"So what's the deal, Mammon?" asked Hadrian.
"Mu. Someone apparently entered your name into a wizard's idea of a tournament. Though even after I read through the official contract I fail to see how this applies. You have never been to England after all."
Hadrian froze.
"You sure they're from England?"
Belphegor looked at him. She'd never heard such an odd tone from him. It was almost like he was...afraid.
"Albus Dumbledore is rather famous in England," said Mammon. They eyed Hadrian oddly. "What is going on with you? You never act like this."
He was openly shivering.
"Belphegor has her reasons for avoiding her home country, and I have mine," he replied, wincing.
"...Explain. Now," said Belphegor. She already didn't like where this was going.
Hadrian flinched.
"I hate England and everything it represents. I was stuck living with this English family for seven very long years before they abandoned me while on vacation in Rome. And every day I was with them was worse than hell. They treated me like a slave in their own home, punishing me for imagined slights and if I ever dared to outdo their fat son."
Hadrian's eyes clouded over, the memories too strong for him to fight. Belphegor hugged him tightly, and it was only because of his friendship to her that he didn't flinch.
"I was starved, beaten, treated worse than second class and forced to keep my head down or they'd throw me in a small boot cupboard under the stairs, which served as my room. I was beyond relieved when I finally realized I was free, after I got lost in Rome. Living on the streets was infinitely better than being with them," said Hadrian.
"...I'll be sure to gouge them extra when we go there then."
"Shishishi... am I allowed to cut them up for you?" asked Bel.
"Mu. Only if they fail to keep up their regular payments. They have no idea that I'm making them pay a monthly fee to keep you from murdering everyone who annoys you," said Mammon smugly.
Hadrian blinked, before he let out a broken laugh.
"In that case I better prepare all my little tricks. Including the one I hate using."
When Hadrian turned thirteen his magic started shorting out without explanation. It took them two long months before someone tracked them down right after a mission and it was explained to him what was going on.
Apparently Hadrian was a Warlock, one from a very long line of Warlocks. And the last of his line. From thirteen until eighteen, his magic would start the transition to something far more powerful and potent than the current lot of wizards.
It was something passed down only to the first born son of the line, unbroken. When he turned eighteen his powers would Ascend and his magic would become stronger than any mortal wizard without outside help. But there was a cost.
Magic like this took a major toll on his body and the more powerful the spell, the shorter his life span would become. He was also given a list of things Forbidden and a contact number if something came up.
In short, he had to use a fake wand until he was Ascended and he could tell wizards where to stuff their fancy sticks. Ironically the only magic he kept from his wizard heritage was the shape shifting trick, which required no wand to begin with.
This was going to suck.
"Do we have to stay there the entire year?" asked Hadrian with a whine.
"The second the final task is over, we are gone. I don't like being somewhere I can't make money," said Mammon bluntly. They then looked at Bel, who froze. "I will also be bringing in Lussuria sometime around Christmas."
"Why? And what are you looking at me like that for?"
"Because there is a clause in the contract that specifically states champions must open the ball held in their honor, which is during Yule. This farce was created to show off between schools, and the ball was something they all agreed on to promote unity between them. Which means Hadrian will need a date to the ball."
Belphegor growled.
"Like I'll allow some peasant hussy to get their claws into what's mine."
"Which is why I'm bringing in Lussuria. He can assist in getting us appropriately attired for the event so as to not bring shame to the Varia or the Boss. I know how European wizards dress and I refuse to be caught dead in their fashion sense. They still wear robes," said Mammon in disgust.
Seeing their appalled expressions, Mammon knew there would be no objections to the news.
"This just means we'll have to prepare before the first task."
And Mammon planned to make an entrance none of the wizards would soon forget.
In Scotland...
"Where is the fourth champion?" demanded Karkaroff. "The first task is scheduled to begin tomorrow!"
Dumbledore internally winced. He had only just finished paying off that insane wizard two days ago. The goblins had laughed rather loudly when they heard who he was sending the gold to.
Apparently this "Mammon Esper" was well known to them.
There was a loud commotion outside the castle. The headmasters and headmistress all went outside.
There was a dark corridor that looked like shifting mists forming from the Forbidden Forest. Suddenly the wizard who had blackmailed them into paying them in order to bring Harry Potter back to them appeared, followed by two others. The two teenagers were wearing a clear uniform, each in a different color with an armband and an emblem on the breast pocket.
The one on the left of the hooded figure wore a bright red the color of blood, and an armband with a tornado on it along with something in Italian. The jacket was open, revealing a striped shirt. They had blond hair that obscured half their face and barely reached the beginning of their neck, and wore a crown tilted to the side. There was an unhinged smirk on their face. Just looking at the boy sent shivers down the spines of those who had fought in the war.
The one on the left of the hooded figure wore a deep violet colored uniform, and his armband had clouds on them. His jacket was only half undone, revealing a plain shirt with a widely smiling cat on the front, one that had stripes along it's fur. The smile was almost as unhinged as the boy next to him. His hair was long, reaching a little past his neck and was held back by a purple hair tie. His eyes were framed by a pair of rectangular glasses that revealed amethyst colored eyes.
In short he looked nothing like Harry Potter should have. Harry had green eyes, after all, even if the rest of his appearance more or less fit in along to what James had looked like before his death. He was even missing the iconic lighting bolt scar on his head.
"Mu. You demanded we come to this remote location, so here we are," said Mammon crossly. They were wearing an indigo robe that obscured the top half of their face and had a frog calmly sitting on their head. Like the others they wore an armband, but this had something akin to fog or mist on it.
"Which one of you is Potter? You were due here weeks ago for the weighing of the wands," said Karkaroff arrogantly.
The blond teen smirked, and they all felt a shiver of death down their spines.
"Shishishi..."
The teen with the purple eyes stared them all down, and to the shock of the students, every one of the older and supposedly 'wiser' magicals backed off.
"I am an active member of our group. We do not cater to the whims of mere school teachers simply because I was dragged in against this little pissing contest against my will. Unlike you people, I work for a living. Be grateful I was able to clear my schedule long enough to bother coming here at all, for I despise England," he said in a level, flat tone that sent shivers down their spines.
"Shishishi..."
Dumbledore winced. What the hell had he brought to the school?!
"Mu. Time is money. Do not waste more of mine than you already have with this farce," said Mammon crossly.
Without ceremony, the trio entered the school. Dumbledore had the worst feeling he had unleashed a set of lions on his unsuspecting students.