The Assassin - Chapter 1
A young, slender man ran through the dark streets. His long, leather cloak flickering behind him and his black boots splashing on the drenched pavement. He quickly came to a stop outside a two storey house and swiftly got his breathing under control. The young man stood there until he could no longer hear his breathing but just the pitter patter of the rain and the rustling of the trees against each other.
The young man observed the house. Eyeing the backyard, he made a decision to climb the tree that would give him a good view of inside the house. He swiftly made his way up as if he weighed nothing. Crouching in the branch, concealed by the leaves and his black attire, the young man scoured the house for any sign of life.
About half an hour passed, the young man had not moved an inch and his patience was about to pay off. A car pulled into the dark driveway. Seconds later a man got out and went inside, turning on all the lights as he made his way into the kitchen. The young man stiffened in his position, watching every single move through the kitchen windows.
He had been studying this man’s routine for two weeks straight. He knew every move. Every detail about his life. This man’s name was Kevin Owens, he was single, lived alone, worked from 9am to 6pm every day a part from Sundays, and every night he would have a cigarette before popping in a microwave meal.
The young man smirked as he saw Kevin grab a cigarette from his bag before he headed outside to the back yard. This is his chance to strike. The man made his way into the middle of his yard, where he proceeded to light the cigarette and stare at the moon. Perfect.
The young man slid silently down the tree, crouching low to the ground like a lion hunting it’s prey. He stalked forwards silently until he stood directly behind his victim. Keeping his eyes on the back of Kevin’s head, the other young man reached down to his calf slowly and pulled a Blackhawk Tatang knife out of its sheath. The knife’s black material didn’t shine in the moonlight so it gave no clue it was there as the young man brought the knife around to Kevin’s throat, hovering near, but not touching his skin. The young man brought his other spare hand around the other side, ready to cover Kevin’s mouth.
Kevin drew another long draw from his cigarette. As he exhaled it slowly up towards the moon, the young man quickly stabbed into the right side of his throat where the right carotid artery lay beneath the skin and covered his mouth firmly. Blood splattered over the grass as gurgling sounds came from the distressed man. The young man held Kevin firmly in place as he quickly pushed the knife further into the neck, cutting the vocal cords. The young man brought the blood ridden knife out with a grunt before he plunged it into the left side to get to the left carotid artery. Satisfied that both major blood vessels and vocal cords had been severed, the young man pinched Kevin’s nose with the hand covering his mouth and begun to count the seconds that passed that Kevin was not able to breathe. Slowly Kevin begun to stop struggling in the hold and slipped into unconsciousness.
The young man quickly placed his knife back into its sheath before slowly dropping Kevin, face first, to the ground. The young man sighed before stepping away from the corpse. Another night, another death, another job done. The young man apparated from the spot, to arrive on the top of the roof. Crouching down to be hidden from view, the young man held his hands up towards the yard and corpse below him. He concentrated on summoning his magic up. After a second of silence, the young man cleaned any of his DNA from Kevin, as well as the surrounding area, so there was to be no trace of him every being there. The young man removed all footprints of his from the grass so they could not track a shoes size and make. The young man finally removed his magical residual from the immediate area. He didn’t want anything left behind that could possibly lead anyone to him, not even the best trackers or hunters would be able to find him.
Instead of apparating again, the young man ran along the rooftop in a crouch. If he had apparated from that spot, it would leave behind his residual magic, which could trace to him. Instead he fled the crime scene by foot. Choosing to jump from rooftop to rooftop until he was far enough away to use some magic. The young man pulled out a small box and within it held a miniature broom. As soon as the young man pulled the miniature broom out, it grew to its normal size. The nimbus 2000 reflected the moonlight off its polished wood, it’s twigs neat and straight. The young man climbed on the broom and performed a quick Disillusionment Charm upon himself, both wandlessly and wordlessly.
After a quick 15 minute journey, the young man landed on the ground. He looked up at the only house in sight, a massive old barn styled house with fields of green grass surrounding it. A track had been engraved into the grass from the many cars that had driven towards the house. The track lead off into the distance of the tree line. The house was in the middle of a very large clearing, secluded from any human life. The young man placed the Nimbus back into his box as he walked up to the house. Opening the door quietly, the young man quickly observed the amount of people within the living room and walked in. The door automatically closing as soon as his hand left the door handle.
“Success?” a young male asked from his place on the couch, looking at the young man.
“Of course,” the young man replied, taking his cloak off. “Would you expect anything else from me?”
“No you are right,” the other male chuckled, standing up and heading towards him. “Merlin help the day Harry Potter doesn’t successfully kill a target,” the young male said sarcastically says as he shakes Harry Potter’s hand in congratulations.
“And your mission?” Harry asked with an evil smirk on his face.
“Hunt for food,” the other man sighed, heading back to the couch while Harry stayed where he was. “They still want me to do more training.”
“Your day will come Gray,” Harry said as he headed towards the stairs. “Patience is key.”
“Easier said than done,” Grayson yelled up at Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes as he finished going up the two flights of stairs. He made his way into one of four doors on this level. After softly shutting the door behind him, he sighed. Harry walked over to his wardrobe, shrugged off his leather coat and placed it inside with five other identical looking leather cloaks. Revealed from under the cloak was four different weapon holsters on his body. One was for his wand on his right forearm, two small knife holsters on each of his biceps, and lastly his larger holster on his calf for his Blackhawk Tatang knife. He opened the middle draw in the wardrobe and placed the two small knives into their rightful spots. Harry then unclipped his two arm holster, opened the top draw and neatly placed them inside.
Harry sighed again as he walked into his private bathroom. He pulled the knife out of its sheath that was wrapped around his calf while turning the sink’s hot water tap on with his other hand. He slowly ran the knife under the water, watching in satisfaction as the ruby red blood dripped and mixed in with the water.
Harry grabbed the Accelerated Hydrogen Peroxide Disinfectant spray bottle from under the sink as well as some paper towel. He turned off the tap and quickly wiped down the wet blade with a sheet of paper towel. Harry then sprayed a decent amount of the disinfectant on the knife to kill any bacteria, viruses, blood-borne pathogens or any other nasty cells that could cause harm if he was to accidentally cut himself or someone other than his target. Not that it had ever happened before. But he was taught to always prepare for the absolute worst case scenario.
Satisfied that his favourite knife had been thoroughly cleaned, Harry placed it back in its rightful place in his calf holster. He had also been taught to always have a weapon other than his wand on his body. Harry walked out of his bathroom and sat on his small bed. He took a few seconds to decompress from the mission before he needed to report. He stared in to the free-standing, full length mirror. He noticed there was a splash of crimson blood droplets on his cheek. He wiped it away with a smile before standing. He stared in to his dark green jaded eyes before walking out.
Harry walked up one more flight of stairs and up to one of the two doors. He knocked loud enough for the occupant to hear, before taking a step back and waiting with his hands behind his back. The door opened silently to reveal a man sitting behind a desk, head buried in paperwork. He entered the dimly lit room, closing the door behind him for privacy. Harry just stood in front of the desk silently as he waited for the other to finish his current task.
“Harry,” a thick Scottish accent rolling out as the older male smiled warmly up at him. “Take a seat for Merlin’s sake.”
“Yes Sir,” Harry immediately responded and sat on the chair to his right.
“Report?” the other said after finally putting down his pen, clasping his hands together and looking up at Harry with a serious expression.
“Successful mission,” stated Harry, his face emotionless. “Target was sighted at 6:21pm, killed at 6:29pm. No neighbours were alerted to my presence, there was no witnesses, no evidence nor magical trace left behind. The target has yet to be found dead, so no Police or Auror reports.”
“Well done,” the man smiled darkly. “Don’t spend it all at once.”
With that, the other pulled out a small bag of cash and placed it on the desk.
“Thank you Sir,” Harry smiled as he grabbed the small bag and pocketed it.
Neither made a move to leave, both staring at each other with fondness.
“Now the business is over with, drop the formalities Harry,” he chuckled, leaning forwards in his chair. “How are you going?”
“I am fine Drew,” Harry sighed as he rolled his eyes.
Drew would always ask that question at any opportunity he had. It made Harry’s heart warm to know he had someone that cared for him so deeply, no matter who he was. He was so lucky to have Drew in his life. He was the closest thing he had to a family as well as a father figure.
“You’re 16th birthday is coming up in a few weeks,” Drew smiled warmly. “What would you like?”
“Nothing,” Harry shook his head with a smirk.
“How about that 12 piece set of Black Kunai Throwing Knives you’ve had your eyes on?” mused Drew. “They are 6 inches long, comes with a two small and compact leg sheaths, and I’m sure if I mention my name then I can get a new bullseye target.”
Harry couldn’t help the genuine laugh that bubbled up. He shook his head in disbelief. This man always knew what he wanted without him even needing to say a word. Harry didn’t know how he did it.
“Drew,” Harry said after calming down. “I don’t want it. Having the roof over my head and money in my pocket is more than enough.”
“Potter,” Drew said sternly, he rarely used that tone.
“McIntyre,” Harry said just as sternly.
“Potter stop,” Drew shook his head with a chuckle, he couldn’t keep up the stern façade when the younger said his surname. “I’m getting you that set whether you like it or not.”
“Drew McIntyre does whatever he wants,” Harry smirked holding up his hands in defence. “I can’t stop you.”
“Get out of here before I change my mind you little mutt,” laughed Drew as he picked his pen back up and got back to the paperwork in front of him.
“Later,” Harry said as he left the office and headed back down to his room.
After collapsing on his bed with a sigh, Harry allowed the sound of the rain to soothe his tense body. He hated being reminded of his birthday or his past. Before Drew had found him that faithful night almost eleven years ago, he had lived with a despicable family, the Dursley’s. Just thinking about them made him tense back up and a snarl to rise from deep within him. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the rain again. He started to think back on the night he was found.
It was a cold winter night in the small town of Surrey. Most residents were in their homes, snuggled up near their fireplace or heater. The streets were eerily quiet and mysteriously clouded in an abnormal darkness. If anyone was to walk down the alley off the main street of shops, they would come across a small, shaking boy all alone and crying. Fortunately for that young boy, a group was chasing someone in to that exact alley way.
“It’s a dead end,” the leader of the group chuckled as he stood at the end of the alley way with five other men behind him. Lifting his hand up, a blue light shot up and encircled the person the group were chasing.
The small boy gasped quietly as he saw the light come from his hand. He watched on, half in curiosity and half in fear.
“Wait,” the out of breath male tried to get out of the strange blue circle. “Please. I didn’t do anything.”
The leader of the group chuckled, stepping forward in to the alley way while his accomplices stayed behind.
“No?” the man chuckle grew darker as did his features. Suddenly there was nothing that was amusing to the man. “NO? You didn’t do anything? Are you lying to yourself to make things easier?”
“I-I’m not lying!” the man cried out in panic. “I didn’t do anything. I swear! P-Please don’t kill me!”
The young boy on the ground shuffled forward slightly from where he crouched behind a pile of garbage bags, trying to see more of the scene that was unfolding in front of him.
“Well answer me this,” the leader growled out darkly. “Who was the one to compromise our position? Who was the one who was a double agent? Who was the one that fed information to the enemy? Huh? Who was it then?”
The man in the circle begun searching the alley way for any excuse, any way to escape.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begged again.
“You’re pathetic,” the other spat at the ground before slowly raising his hand again. “You deserve this you filthy piece of shit.”
“Wait!” the man cried out, his eyes locked on the little form of the boy. “Is that a child?”
The leader snorted before his face turned serious as his eyes were drawn to the shaking frame of what appeared to be a young child. He slowly approached the young boy and crouched down in front of him.
“What are you doing out here young one?” he asked in a soothing tone the boy hadn’t heard from anyone before. “Are you cold?”
The young boy nodded his head shyly, avoiding eye contact with the stranger. He looked at the chest as the other started to take his coat off. He gently placed the large, warm coat around the small frame, frowning as the young boy flinched at being touched.
“Where is your home?” he asked, forgetting about the traitor behind him for now. “Are your parents not worried?”
“They are dead,” the young boy whispered quietly.
“Who do you live with?” he pressed on. Surely this young boy had a place he lived at?
“Aunt, Uncle, Dudley,” the boy whispered out, shaking as he said those names out loud.
“Why don’t I take you back to your Aunt and Uncle?” he asked, but almost instantly regretted asking.
“NO!” the young boy shouted, wide green eyes finally meeting concerned dark brown eyes. “P-P-Please don’t take me back.”
“It’s okay,” the man tried to soothe the almost tearful young one. He turned around to his group. “Take the traitor back to base. I’ll be home soon.”
The young boy watched in fear as the group of five men quickly stalked forwards and grabbed on to the one in the blue circle. With a loud pop they were gone. The young boy stared around in curiosity and amazement. He was wondering where they had gone so quickly when a niggling feeling popped in to his head.
“Are you freaks too?” the young boy whispered, refusing to look any higher than the others chest again.
“Freaks?” the man whispered to himself. “What do you mean by Freaks?"
“Aunt and Uncle say freaks like me use the M word,” he whispered out, looking around to make sure it was safe to say. He leaned in slightly and in a barely audible whisper he uttered, “Magic.”
“Young one,” the man sighed and shook his head, disbelief in what he was hearing. “You are not a freak if you can use magic. I am not a freak for using magic. No one is.”
“B-But they say so,” the boy whispered, shaking uncontrollably from the cold air despite the coat. “They always tell the truth. They say freaks like me should have died in the car crash with my parents. Freaks aren’t good.”
“What’s your name young one?” the man asked, not wanting to take him back to this so called Aunt and Uncle.
“Most of the time I am Freak,” he whispered. “But sometimes I am Harry.”
“Well sometimes Harry,” the man smiled warmly as the younger’s face lit up in joy for a few seconds. “How would you like to come to my home and get out of this cold for the night?”
“Do I have to cook and clean for you as well?” Harry asked.
“No,” the man smiled sadly at the young one. “You don’t need to do anything.”
“O-Okay, if you are sure,” Harry said shyly, looking up in to the kind eyes.
“I am Drew,” Drew held his hand out for Harry to take. “Nice to meet you Harry.”
Harry shook Drew’s hand quickly before withdrawing his own back, afraid of being tricked. Drew stood up and quickly stretched his acing legs.
“Take hold of my hand and don’t let go,” Drew held his hand out as Harry stood up and stepped closer to him. “This might feel funny but it is only for a few seconds.”
Harry apprehensively slipped his tiny, shaking hand in to Drew’s large one. He closed his eyes to muster up some courage. As he did, he felt a warmness wrap around his entire body before a sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube happened for a few seconds. As soon as the feeling disappeared, he opened one eye to find himself standing in a living room he had never seen before. Harry looked up to Drew, eyes wide with shock and amazement.
“Welcome to my place,” Drew smiled down at Harry before he knelt down and carefully took his coat off him so he didn’t overheat.
“How did you do that?” Harry’s voice quivered slightly in awe, as he took in his surroundings thoroughly.
“It’s called apparation,” Drew explained, hanging his coat on a rack beside the door. “It’s when a wizard or witch magically go from one place to another.”
“Like teleportation?” Harry asked.
“That’s a big word, Harry,” Drew chuckled as he knelt down again. “Where did you learn that from?”
“I was bad boy and read a book,” Harry hung his head in shame.
“Why are you a bad boy for reading?” Drew asked in confusion.
“Freaks shouldn’t touch what isn’t theirs,” Harry whispered. “Uncle got mad one time he found me with one of Aunt’s books.”
“Harry,” Drew sighed, reaching out and softly grabbing his shoulder. Frowning as the young one flinched from the touch but nonetheless stayed still. “You are not a freak. And if you wish to read a book here, you can.”
“Thank you sir,” Harry smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact.
“Call me Drew,” he responded immediately as he stood up. “Now would you like me to show you around and introduce you to people that live here?”
“Can you show me the cupboard first?” Harry asked sheepishly.
“The cupboard?” Drew asked confused. “Why would you want to see my cupboard?”
“Cupboard under the stairs is my bedroom,” Harry stated proudly, his chest puffing slightly.
“No Harry,” Drew sighed. “You cannot stay in a cupboard.”
Harry looked up in shock. Tears forming in his eyes slightly. Drew knelt down for what felt like the fourth hundred time that day.
“You can stay in a bedroom like any normal child would,” Drew said to stop the young one from thinking he couldn’t stay there.
“A bedroom?” Harry asked, his head tilting slightly. “A bedroom like Dudley has? Or Aunt and Uncle have?”
“Yes,” Drew smiled sadly. “How about I show you the bedroom first?”
Harry nodded his head eagerly and followed Drew up the two flights of stairs. His eyes travelling all around the place to observe the new environment. Harry could have sworn that a portrait he passed moved. Drew opened up one of the four doors on the third floor. Harry gasped as he looked around the bedroom.
Harry smiled as he opened his eyes and looked around the room. Nothing much had changed except for a few new pieces of furniture and a personal item here and there. The bedroom was very much as dull as the day he first saw it, which Harry didn’t mind as it was more than he ever owned at the Dursley’s nearly for the first five years of his life. Harry settled in for the night, blissfully unaware of the panic happening miles away from him in the Headmasters office at Hogwarts.
The room was full. Full of people, full of emotions, full of magic. An old wizard sat behind the desk pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to focus on anything but the talk of the other order members in attendance.
“Silence,” Headmaster Dumbledore said quietly, no one hearing the word leave his mouth.
The old wizard lifted his head slowly from his hands, dangerous blue eyes flashing with fury. He inhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool as much as he could. He looked around the room slowly to find not even a single pair of eyes was on him.
“I said,” he said a little loudly before bellowing, “Silence!”
And silence is what he got. Everyone froze as the usual calm and cheery Headmaster of Hogwarts yelled with a vicious undertone. Those closer even felt the powerful flick of his magic, his anger lashing out of him in waves.
“I did not call this meeting for meaningless chitter chatter,” he growled out with barely contained anger. “I called this meeting in hopes of hearing some news on our current situation. Time is of the essence. You all know as well as I how important it is to find the boy.”
No one dare speak another word in fear of the magic or dark eyes being drawn to them. The grey haired wizard scanned the room as he adjusted himself in his chair to sit up straighter.
“Fletcher,” sharp blue eyes scouted out the man. “Report.”
“There has been an increased activity of crime in both the muggle and wizarding world,” the short and unshaven man said, stepping forward slightly. “I have been sighting a lot of murder cases where the cause of death is known, however the perpetrator is unknown. When Aurors have investigated, no magical trace can be found anywhere in the immediate area. That also includes some of the muggle cases they look into.”
“Any idea of who or what is at the cause of all of this?” Dumbledore asked with a massive sigh.
“No Sir,” whispered Fletcher, eyes cast down. “There is no evidence, no magical trace, nothing. My best guess is that we are dealing with extremely powerful wizards or assassins.”
The Headmaster closed his eyes, trying to make any sense of this. He sighed before dismissing the ginger man with a lazy wave of his hand. His eyes looking for his next target.
“Shacklebolt,” he almost barked. “Any progress?”
“Nothing more than where we were three years ago,” the tall man said immediately.
“How do we know he is even alive?” a small voice asked from the back of the room.
Everyone turned their heads to see Molly Weasley with tears in her eyes, clutching her husband’s arm. While no one ever voiced this opinion in front of the Headmaster, they were all thinking it every time their searches turned out fruitless.
“We must have hope, Molly,” Dumbledore said softly. “If we lose the only hope we have, we will never find him in time.”
“Three years have passed Albus,” she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Three years of nothing. Yet there was no guarantee that was him three years ago. It was a possible sighting from a person we cannot trust. There was no solid evidence it was him!”
“Molly,” he said with a sigh, standing up and making his way around to the front of his desk. “Any sighting is good news, whether it is true or not. It gives us the hope he is still out there.”
“How have we not found him yet?” she asked as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I wish I could tell you why,” he hung his head. “But we need to keep up our efforts. We need to find him and train him urgently. Harry Potter is our only hope.”
Everyone nodded their heads in the solemn silence. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, arranging a few pieces of parchment.
“Alright so we will meet back here in a month to discuss things,” he said, looking around the room. “Fletcher, same as always. Keep an eye on crime reports in both worlds. Shacklebolt, watch any information within the ministry and any possible reports of Harry Potter.”
“Yes Sir,” Fletcher and Shacklebolt muttered at the same time.
Dumbledore waved his hand to dismiss everyone from the Order of the Phoenix meeting. Slowly, the people trickled out and soon enough it was just the Headmaster alone in his office. Making sure the door was locked, Dumbledore let off a little burst of magic. Items fell, furniture shook, the windows rumbling. He hit the desk with his fist, blue eyes dangerously glaring holes in to the door in front.
The brat had been missing for almost eleven years. No one knew he was missing until Arabella Fig had failed to sight him for almost two years. That stupid squib. She had one task. After the order members had searched for months, panic started to set in. No magical trace had ever been picked up since he disappeared. When the public found out he was missing, they went in to panic mode as well. Yet their many searches had resulted in empty hands. After five years of nothing, everything started to die down. No more searches, no more money towards the cause, no more shits given.
Dumbledore stood up as he walked towards his window that overlooked the grounds of Hogwarts. The small lights off in the distances from Hogsmeade illuminating the dark night. A deep growl left his throat, magic flaring again. He would find that brat if it was the last thing he would ever do.