So, I got a lot of interest for my Transformers Prime crossover teaser. But I did warn you guys that it may not be a post-Hogwarts Harry story, and besides, I wanted to do something other than a WBWL fic or a post-Hogwarts-Harry-adopting-Delphi fic. So I thought I'd do a story where Harry got framed and put on trial...only for things to go from bad to worse. It starts dark, but it'll gradually get better. Then again, Prime is pretty bloody dark anyway.

In the process, I had to think of an OC or an OC stand-in, until I was inspired by another Hasbro property. He'll be the only character from that crossover, but I think you'll like my take on such a character.

As always, there's no guarantee of it becoming a full fic. But I hope you enjoy...

OF ALLOYED HEARTS

CHAPTER 1:

FLIGHT OF THE DRAGON

Deep in a remote area of Scotland was a castle hidden to most. Not a certain school as some might think, but something altogether more sinister. No, this castle clawed at the sky, as if to pull down the very gods themselves from the heavens.

And in that castle, in a well-appointed study, sat a man. He was tall, thin, and with aquiline features. His hair was close-cropped, his eyes intense and glowering from their sockets. His suit was made at the finest tailors at Savile Row. A Bluetooth speaker protruded from one of his ears.

He was writing in a notebook, one filled with codes and numbers. His pen danced over the notebook, before he frowned, and checked a printout on a nearby table. He chuckled darkly. "Ah, Bishop, ever so greedy for more armaments. Well, as long as the price is right…"

The earpiece chirruped, and he scowled. "Well?" he asked, activating the earpiece. His expression flickered through many different emotions, before a snarl touched his lips. "Assets and personnel?" After a moment listening, he nodded. "Unfortunate, but that facility is one of many. Order any personnel still present and alive to leave. As long as they're competent, they can still draw a paycheck. Scorched earth for the assets they can't retrieve." After another moment listening, a sardonic smile touched his face. "Is he now? Activate the projector. Let's see how Tom likes being on the receiving end of gloating."

The man then stood up, picking up a PDA and activating a holographic projector that filled the room with an image of a control room, outlined in blue-tinted monochrome, a number of control panels destroyed. A number of figures were there, including a man with ophidian features and a high, cold voice. "…Him! I will not let this filthy Muggle contrivance keep me from him."

"Good evening," the aquiline man said, knowing his holographic projection was amongst them.

The snake-faced man whirled, and sneered. "Destro."

"That's Laird James McCullen XXIV to you, Voldemort," McCullen said coldly. "I have not forgotten what you did to spite me, and the weapons you stole, you just destroyed, thinking them Muggle filth. I don't know what offends me more, your theft or your spiteful vandalism."

"Spare me your righteous indignation," Voldemort retorted. "Grindlewald would be ashamed of what you've turned the organisation he and Dumbledore have founded into."

McCullen laughed, again, coldly. "As if you have any respect for our founder. They dubbed my ancestor Destro as an abbreviation of 'Destroyer of Worlds' for his arms-dealing, but you are nothing but destructive. Gellert, on the other hand, was a visionary, who understood subtlety and playing the long game. I have carried on his work. Thankfully, the facility you are in represents but a small part of it. I know why you're there, Voldemort. Umbridge or one of my people betrayed me, or at least the location of that boy whom you're singularly obsessed with. You're like a cobra, entranced by a snake charmer's flute, swaying, on the verge of striking, and yet never doing so." McCullen looked down at his PDA and scowled. "Well, maybe you'll get your chance," he said, too calmly, trying to keep a lid on his anger. "It seems you inadvertently released your target from containment."

"…At last…and once I have put paid to that boy, nothing will stop me. I think I will pay you a visit, Destro. You may hide your castle like a coward, but a Fidelius is no obstacle to Lord Voldemort."

"Well, Voldemort, I should point out that I used the boy as a test subject. A number of items have come into my collection, some of them from a very long way away. The boy was the first successful test subject in hybridising with certain items, though I believe that was down to the luck of the draw in what we used on him."

"Is there a point to this drivel?!"

McCullen chuckled darkly as he consulted his PDA. "I'm getting to it. Do you remember the Hogwarts motto? If you need a reminder, it's Latin for 'Don't tickle a sleeping dragon'. You've done more than just tickle this dragon, Voldemort. You've yanked its tail and stolen its eggs. And if what is left of my security system is any indication, you have the Order of the Phoenix along with some Aurors waiting outside…and said dragon coming to you any second. Goodbye, Voldemort. It's not been a pleasure."

He shut off the hologram projection of himself, but kept the holographic projection of the control room up. Voldemort raging, the Death Eaters frantically searching…and then, the massive steel doors opened, usually used for transferring cargo and the like. A figure dressed in a basic hospital gown stood there, emerald eyes glowing. And then, that sound, that beautiful and alien sound…

WHRR-TSCHZZ-TSCHZZ-TSCHZZ-CHK!

A monstrous form breathed in, and then breathed out. McCullen stood amongst the hologram even as it was consumed by ravenous flames and dissolved into static. As the hologram faded, he grinned. It was a grin filled with darkness.

"Fantastic…"

Along an isolated road in the US, a blue motorbike drove. The rider was female, but otherwise relatively anonymous, given the body-covering riding gear and helmet. Or at least that was what observers were meant to think.

In truth, regarding this motorbike…there was more than met the eye.

The bike pulled up on the outskirts of a quarry, hidden out of view amongst trees. The quarry had strange blue and violet crystals growing from it, making it look like the sort of quarry used as a location for Doctor Who. Like some alien landscape.

After a moment, a voice emanated from the bike and its rider, a woman's voice, but with a slight flanging, as if it were electronically-produced. "Arcee to base. Do you read me?" the voice asked in a no-nonsense tone.

The voice that spoke was low, gentle, weary and solemn. "We read you loud and clear, Arcee. What's the situation?"

"It's as Ratchet thought. This quarry has a whole bunch of Energon crystals just sitting out in the open. Not sure how long we have until the 'Cons come along, though. But…"

And then, a roar filled the skies, one that had the voice say, "…No…it couldn't be…"

Something seemed to blur out of the skies, dropping into the quarry, kicking up a lot of dust and rubble. For a brief moment, massive, draconic wings spread out from the dust cloud, before a familiar (to the mysterious Arcee) noise came to her ears: a distinctive staccato sound like gears clanking mixed with electronic buzzing. The sound of a T-Cog in action, to those in the know.

The dust cleared, to reveal a dark-haired figure in a medical gown. After a moment, the female voice said, "Optimus, I have visual on a possible Pretender, except their alt-form…if I didn't know any better, I would have thought it to be a Predacon."

"Are you sure, Arcee?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I'm looking at what looks like a human. Male, late teens to early twenties at a guess. And yet those wings I saw looked like those on certain Predacons, the ones that resemble this world's dragon myths. He's approaching an Energon crystal, and…I think he's absorbing Energon from it."

That is indeed what it looked like to the mysterious Arcee, energy flowing from the crystal to the distant figure, who was panting as if exhausted. After a while, the flow of energy ceased, and the figure sagged to their knees. A sudden hoarse wail came from the figure, followed by sobs, before they punched the ground.

"…What am I?" came the hoarse voice of a young man, before he suddenly screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK AM I?!"

At this, Arcee thought she detected distress in the voice of the figure. But long experience and reasonable paranoia had her refrain from approaching. She watched as the figure approached another Energon crystal, and began absorbing it. But then, a thrumming noise came from the skies, and a massive, sinister, and (to Arcee) too-familiar vessel moved into view.

"…Scrap," Arcee hissed. "The Nemesis is here!"

"Maintain surveillance, Arcee, out of sight. Do not hesitate to call for a Groundbridge if need be."

Vehicon drones dropped from the Nemesis, led by what looked like Starscream, and confronted the youth. She couldn't hear the conversation when a brief gust of wind stirred up by the Decepticon flagship blew up, but the figure began to run, and she certainly heard Starscream yell, "Capture the fleshling!"

After a moment's thought, Arcee came to a decision. Whatever this being was, he clearly wanted no part of the Decepticons, and his earlier distress tugged at Arcee's Spark. "Optimus, whatever that young man is, he seems to be no friend of the 'Cons, and Starscream wants him captured. Get a Groundbridge ready, I'm going in to retrieve him."

"Understood, but don't take any unnecessary risks."

A bit late for that now, Arcee thought to herself, before the rider on the bike seemed to flash out of existence like a glitching computer image. The bike drove off by itself, speeding into the quarry, before pulling alongside the young man. "Get on, now!" Arcee yelled.

The young man, with dark hair and emerald eyes, stared uncomprehendingly, and in fear. "…What?"

"I'm here to help! If you're no friend of the 'Cons, then…" A blast from one of the 'Cons sent the bike flying. But to any outside observers, they would have been shocked to see the bike twist and pull apart in mid-air, transforming into a large, humanoid figure in blue. The true Arcee, an Autobot.

"Arcee…" sneered Starscream with that mellifluous rasp of his. "So, this fleshling interests you too? I'm afraid I saw him first. In fact, I think he will be a fine specimen to add to the lab, and I'll rip out your Spark as a trophy for Lord Megatron."

Before Arcee could retort, or have a Groundbridge opened up for escape, the young man clutched his head and screamed. His emerald eyes began glowing, before his body seemed to twist and distort grotesquely, the familiar staccato sound of a T-Cog activating emanating from his body. It seemed to grow, becoming bigger, the flesh giving way to metal, before the Cybertronian body then writhed and contorted into a new shape, a draconic one in silvery white with wings.

A Predacon.

Arcee was frightened, she had to admit, but she was also gratified to see a look of fear come over Starscream's face. Assuming she lived long enough, she would be enjoying that look in her memory banks for a long time, as if he just sprang a massive coolant leak from between his legs. "…Oh, frag me," he said quietly.

The Predacon opened his mouth, and fire blasted out. Starscream barely escaped by transforming and flying back up to the Nemesis, but the Vehicons weren't so lucky. The fire writhed like a living thing, before extinguishing. Nothing was left of the Vehicons, save for a few charred patches on the ground. The Predacon glared up at the Nemesis, which was even now swiftly leaving, probably Starscream ordering a hasty retreat.

The Predacon then turned to glare at Arcee with glowing emerald eyes. She held up her hands in a placating manner. "I'm not your enemy, nor do I intend to make you our enemy. If you're not a Decepticon, we can help you. I saw you when you landed. I know you're going through a lot, even if I don't know why. But…"

She was interrupted when the Predacon convulsed. A roar of pain distorted into a scream of agony, punctuated by yet another staccato noise of a T-Cog activating. The draconic shape distorted into something closer to a standard Cybertronian, and then shrank into a more human-shaped and sized form. The young man swayed on his feet, before collapsing, Arcee just managing to catch him before he hit the ground.

Despite her surprise and shock, Arcee recovered swiftly. She considered the young man. Was it too much of a risk to bring him back? Or should curiosity and compassion towards someone who was clearly hurting win out?

She made her choice. Reactivating comms, she said, "This is Arcee requesting a Groundbridge, and Ratchet on standby for an examination of an unknown Cybertronian…" She looked to the human in her hand thoughtfully. His body felt warm, warm in a way Cybertronians were not, and his flesh felt like real flesh. "…Or a hybrid," she mused out loud.

"A hybrid? How can you be sure, Arcee?" came the curmudgeonly voice of Ratchet, their scientist and medic.

"I'm not. It's just…what the humans call a gut feeling…"

"…And in short, while Dumbledore and Grindlewald may have founded our organisation, Minerva is very much its own creature these days." The aquiline face leaned down, the sole thing illuminated in the dark room. "So, how does it feel to be abandoned? To know that your own mentor left you to rot? I ask merely for information, I've never been truly abandoned by a mentor."

He couldn't reply because of the pain. The physical pain was bad enough, but the psychological torment compounded matters. He shouldn't be believing this cruel, evil man, and yet…it felt too plausible. And the things he wanted to say, to beg, to scream in defiance, to threaten, all jammed in his throat.

"Still, you have surprisingly many supporters, even if that harridan Dolores is stymying them. I hope that's some consolation to you if nothing else. That, and, well, I can't stand working with that woman either. She's useful enough given her placement in the Ministry, but she makes me want to scrub myself down with a scouring pad every time I meet her, and having met with the warmongering scum of the Earth, that's saying something."

At this, McCullen sighed. "Still, it's a crying shame. You and I would never get along, but I do pity you. You're basically a child soldier who's just had his real taste of warfare when the Diggory boy was murdered, and you're still recovering from that. That would have been the opening shot of a war Dumbledore would have dragged you into because of that mythos he engineered around you. Instead, you should be enjoying life as a teenager, without worrying about Voldemort or anything else. I am a self-admitted warmonger, but wars are only good for business when they aren't out of control wildfires. Still…while I doubt you'd find any consolation in this, you can still serve a greater purpose. And who knows? If you survive, I might send you against Voldemort, let you kill that freak with your bare hands." He leaned in closer. "A freak killing a freak. Wouldn't that be fantastic?"

Freak…freak…freak…the word echoed in the darkness, overwhelming him, even as he stared at his arm. Metal crawled up it, eating flesh. The fingers became talons, at the end of an inhuman limb. And the scream coming from his throat was now metallic and tinny. A freak, freak, freakfreakfreakfreak…!

Waking up was not instantaneous, despite the nightmare. As he writhed in a bed, he heard, "…No sign of the T-Cog activating, thank Primus." This voice was curmudgeonly and male, slightly flanging, though oddly enough, it was followed by a strange series of beeps and buzzes that reminded him of R2D2. "Though I agree with Bumblebee. I'd love to see a video file showing Starscream running, Arcee. That's the best news to come out of this fiasco."

A familiar female voice, also slightly flanging, chuckled. "I'll copy it when I have a spare moment. So, he's waking up?"

"As far as I can tell. He's…well, a new frontier in medicine and biology. Optimus is right. Hopefully, he'll see you as a friendly face."

"With your bedside manner, you'd probably make things worse," the woman said, the man harrumphing, and at this point, he opened his eyes and saw her. Not for the first time, but it felt like it registered properly.

She was a robot.

She was about fifteen feet tall, he reckoned, covered in blue, black, and silver metal plating, her body slender and feminine. Her face was a silvery plate with a thin mouth, her eyes glowing blue, below a helmet-like crest. And yet, her eyes and face were emotive, showing what seemed to be concern as she looked at him, so unlike that other one, the one that called himself Starscream. He was still wary, even afraid, but she did try to defend him, and she certainly wasn't on Starscream's side, he recalled. Plus, she was strangely beautiful.

They also seemed to be underground. Red rock lined the walls, though with signs of human construction…and other things. A vast bank of computer monitors lined one part of the chamber.

"…Good evening. How're you feeling?" the robot woman asked.

"Like I got run over by a truck," he groaned, sitting up gingerly. Everything ached. "…Where am I? Who are you? What are you?"

"You're safe for now," the robot woman said. "I won't give the exact location, but you're in a retrofitted nuclear missile silo in Nevada in the United States of America. We're renting from the US government, albeit off the books. As for who I am, I am Arcee. And these two are Bumblebee and Ratchet."

She moved to one side to reveal two more of the robots. Both were larger and bulkier than her. One was yellow, and was looking at him with a curious air, waving at him while emitting those beeps and buzzes from earlier. The other was white and red, shooting him a brief glance and a nod, before returning to monitoring a control panel.

"And for the what…we are Autonomous Robot Organisms. We call ourselves Autobots for short in your language. We're also from out of town…aliens for want of a better term."

He gaped at her, before sagging back onto the bed with a bitter laugh. "…Aliens? Alien robots? Alien robots that are intelligent, alive…oh, I've gone mad, after all that bastard McCullen did to me. It's enough that I'm no longer human, a freak, but…"

"Hey." He felt her hand, the long, spindly metal fingers surprisingly cool in a soothing way, clasp around his own. Yet despite how massive and lethal-looking her hand was, it was gentle and calming. He looked up, and met her glowing blue eyes. "Listen to me. You're not a freak. Believe me, I've had the displeasure of meeting too many beings that I would call freaks, but you're not one of them. So, what's your name?"

"…Harry Potter."

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. We'll have more details on how and why Harry became a Cybertronian hybrid, but hopefully, this has gotten you anticipating what is to come.

Harry's age has been advanced a year too, so he was 15, nearly 16, by the end of the TWT, and thus is about 19 here. In addition, this story begins in 2009.

James McCullen, aka Destro, is basically this fic's take on the villain from the GI Joe franchise, specifically the Stephen Sommers movie. Admittedly, I have only seen parts of that film, but Christopher Eccleston makes a chilling villain (ironically, apparently he hated working on the film so much, he wanted to slit his own throat), so while not truly based on Destro from the film, this version is a cold pragmatist. He's also got a somewhat complex morality. While a cruel sadist, he does genuinely pity Harry, and he prefers not to work with terrorists unless they're reliable customers: he wants to have a sustainable business, and too many dead customers means not enough paying ones. I also threw in a few mannerisms of the Ninth Doctor, because the Ninth Doctor was one of the darker incarnations, as well as Henry van Statten from the new series Doctor Who episode Dalek, with McCullen being something of a collector of unusual artifacts…including a number of Cybertronian corpses.

Minerva is a nod to MARS from the film (Minerva being the Roman equivalent to Athena, just as Mars is the Roman version of Ares, all being war deities), but it's also a different organisation (and is certainly NOT Cobra: McCullen is the only crossover character or organisation from GI Joe I have planned). Think of it as being like an evil version of the Unspeakables mixed in with SPECTRE from the Bond films, with a touch of Faction Paradox from the Whoniverse spinoffs. Founded by Dumbledore and Grindlewald prior to their falling out (and under a different name), they continue their mission to subvert both the wizarding world and the world in general, playing the long game to do so. McCullen is not its commander, just a high-ranking executive, a bit like Largo is to Blofeld in SPECTRE in Thunderball, for example.

And FYI, while it seems like I am bashing Dumbledore in this story, I'm not. He's still heavily flawed and needs a wake-up call for his methods, but in this one, he's still ultimately a good guy. Unfortunately, McCullen was able to prey on Harry's doubts about Dumbledore, and revealing a few secrets like the prophecy and who leaked it to Voldemort. And Dumbledore's words and Snape's actions only confirmed this fear in Harry's mind.

I chose Destro because I wanted Umbridge to sell Harry to an organisation that would basically turn him into a Cybertronian. I considered MECH, but it's too early for them to be meddling with Cybertronian tech. Ditto a rogue faction of Unspeakables. I then decided, as a nod to how the two franchises are often linked, to have at least one element from GI Joe, to give Harry a more personal nemesis. McCullen IS supplying MECH with weapons, as his offhand remark shows.

Now, why is Arcee not being as cold and bitchy as she is at the start of Prime? There's a few reasons. Firstly, this takes place some time before the first episode, so Cliffjumper hasn't been killed by Starscream yet. Arcee's still got trauma and issues from Airachnid murdering Tailgate, yes, but she's had enough time to, if not deal with it healthily, then put some distance between herself and that incident. Secondly, while wary of Harry at first for showing Pretender abilities (which are being based more on the Bayverse movies, broadly-speaking), to say nothing of him having a Predacon alt-form, she sees him acting in despair, as well as fleeing from Starscream. She sees a traumatised young man who doesn't seem to be on the bad guys' side, so she acts to help. This also informs her treatment of Harry when he wakes up.

No numbered annotations this time.