Chapter 4

Harry ducked under the katana's swing, surging forward and delivering a magic-fuelled punch into his opponent's gut before instantly spinning around, pulling out his modified-scimitar as he did so to block the coming attack. Whilst he could enhance his strength so that he could wield a fully-sized sword, a miniature one like the one he was using was considerably easier to use, him being a ten year old.

He parried the next blow with ease, twisting his blade so that the man was forced to move his sword towards his comrade or be disarmed. The said comrade leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two only to be struck by a blast of concussive force as Harry thrust his free hand at him.

Harry's other foe attempted to take advantage of his momentary distracting, but found himself yanked upwards by a tendril of magic wrapping around his ankle. Allowing that man to fall to the floor, Harry turned and deflected a blow, spinning the final man so that he tripped over his ally and landed atop him. They both made to scramble up to their feet but promptly stopped as they found a blade aligned with each of their throats.

From the other side of the room, a slow clapping began. Harry turned and bowed deeply, his movement mimicked by his fallen foes. The man at the doorway motioned with his head and Harry rose, walking up alongside him as the man began to leave.

"Well done," spoke Ra's. "Taking on four of my men at your age is no small feat, though there is still much room for improvement."

Harry nodded, content with the praise that might have once offended him. By now he knew that Ra's would never be fully satisfied with his ability until he could best him himself in combat. He had the feeling that it would be at least half a century until that happened. Magic should have given him a huge advantage over him, but Ra's moved too fast for much to be effective. Harry shuddered to think of what it would take to defeat him in a fair fight without using magic.

Still, Harry himself was by this point a foe most wouldn't want to face. He had no doubt that with the element of surprise he could kill almost anyone in the world, even at his young age. Five years of nothing but training had paid off, and he was more well-versed in stealth, martial arts, sword-fighting and knife-fighting than all but the very top people in the world, most of whom were actually in the League of Shadows.

And that was to not even mention magic. Whilst his lack of using a wand gave him a disadvantage where it came to variety and possibly power, it also made him a lot faster. At a short range with the right amount of concentration, he could send a needle-thin burst of magic forward that had just enough force to go through someone's skull, killing them in a moment. It left him rather drained, but it was an example of one of the range of techniques he could employ to end a fight before it had even begun. Another favourite of his was propelling a pebble through their head at bullet like velocities, and though that was slightly easier to counter, it was not likely that many wizards would be able to draw their wand and yell an incantation before they were killed.

He knew that at this age he was certainly not a magical powerhouse and that his most vital weapon in any fight would be the element of surprise. After all, no wizard could yell an incantation with a throwing knife protruding from their throat. Most also weren't able to keep standing with a sword through their spine, or keep living for long with the most deadly poison of the League of Shadows coursing through their veins.

From he had learnt from Ra's he should have been starting Hogwarts, a magical school, this year at the beginning of September, but needless to say, he wouldn't be going. The school's curriculum was focused upon wands and was rather heavy with magical theory for the first few years. The former was pointless seeing as he didn't use a wand, and the latter could be taught better to him by Ra's or a tutor hired by the League's rather expansive resources, and he certainly didn't want to waste time around children who were doubtlessly far less immature than him. The closest thing to socializing with someone his age he had done in the past five years was killing Dudley.

He did of course, have to learn to fit in – it was equally important for an assassin to be able to blend with a crowd as it was for them to be able to blend with the shadows – but gaining experience at that would be far easier in the non-magical world where he would not have to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

No. Hogwarts would most certainly not have Harry Potter in its attendance. Even if its register that tracked down new students attempted to find him, the unnatural magic of the Lazarus Pit and the League's concealment methods would stop him from being discovered.

Dumbledore sighed. Every letter to alert students of their accepted attendance at Hogwarts had been sent. All but one. Well, it had been sent, the owl just had been completely unable to find its recipient. Whilst Dumbledore hadn't had a way to track Harry, he had been safe in the knowledge that the powerful charms integrated into the Hogwarts Register would find him. Unfortunately, this had just been proven false.

Harry not being able to be found could mean two different things, and whilst one was undoubtedly preferable to the other, neither were good for Dumbledore. The first possibility, the one that he didn't even want to contemplate, was that Harry Potter might be dead. The other possibility was that Harry was hidden behind wards. Whose? Albus had no idea, but he hoped that it wasn't one of the followers of Lord Voldemort or some other dark wizard. That would undeniably be bad, whether he was a prisoner or being melded to their cause.

He moved over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky, pouring himself a glass and downing a gulp. He had failed James, Lily, and Harry. Now all he could do was wait and hope that his actions would not cause the fall of the wizarding world.

Until the very moment that all the first-years had been sorted, Dumbledore didn't allow himself to lose hope that Harry might be here. It might have merely be a coincidence that no one had seen him on the train. Dumbledore himself might have accidentally looked over the boy in the gaggle of nervous first-years. After all, he hadn't seen him since he was a baby.

But no. Deep within himself, Dumbledore had already known that Harry wouldn't be coming, but now that was confirmed. He withheld another sigh. Minerva was the only one he had confessed his mistake to, and he would no doubt be forced to explain to the rest of the staff tonight that Harry Potter wouldn't be coming to Hogwarts. Tomorrow would probably be even worse, by that time the Daily Prophet would undoubtedly be made aware of his predicament and would most likely blow things out of proportion.

Once again, Dumbledore sighed. Overnight he was likely to become the wizarding world's scapegoat, and he didn't even know whether or not Harry was alive.

Thousands of miles away from Hogwarts, Harry was on his first mission if you didn't count the murder of the Dursleys. Whilst Ra's was not the type to give birthday presents, with Harry's turning of eleven it had been decided he was ready for his first operation.

Three League members were accompanying him, one being Ra's' daughter herself, Talia al Ghul. She handled a large percentage of the business and financial sides of the League, both legitimate and illegitimate, meaning that Harry had never actually met her before, though since she was in the Tibet Headquarters – where Harry had been – Ra's had decided to have her escort him since he himself couldn't come. He did not want his heir to die as a result of an unseen complication, however much faith he had in Harry.

Harry's mission was really quite an easy one: to take out a contact of the League of Shadows who seemed to be showing signs of possible defection. The League did not allow its secrets to be spread, so this contact would die by Harry's hand before he had the chance to do anything.

Wanting to send Harry on a mission had not been Ra's' only reasoning on choosing him, however. The contact was believed to have made contact with a group of magical mercenaries and was selling information in exchange for their protection. Whilst Ra's thought that it would be a good experience for Harry, that was one of the primary reasons he had sent Talia, one of the league's greatest fighters as a result of her two century long life. It would not be good if they or Harry had underestimated the group's prowess and it resulted in a failure.

Harry's target was an Egyptian government official who he would attack in his home, a rather large house that was quite isolated and bordered upon being a mission. It had been organized that he would go in alone, but the others would wait close by, ready to strike whenever need be.

They arrived at the Egyptian airport exactly on schedule, and night had long since fell as they arrived at the destination from which they would depart their car. With a final nod to Talia, who Harry supposed was technically his adopted sister, and the other two ninjas, Harry began to move towards the target location, knowing the other three would be taking a different route.

He darted across the desert, taking cover behind a rock just outside of the range of the lights mounted atop the wall. A security camera was facing his way and he would need to deal with it, Harry noted. Luckily, he had magic. Now having used his wandless magic for five years, there was almost no effort involved, no banishing of emotion needed. He had long since only needed to concentrate to will arcane energies into existence.

With only a slight strain, he poured magic into his sharp, emerald green eyes, ensuring that he was focused on the security camera. A mistake now could mean detection, and that would make his whole mission a whole lot harder. Clamping down upon the camera with his mind, he nudged it to the side and held it there, giving himself a small blindspot to operate in.

Instantly he vaulted from his cover and began to sprint at the wall, easily scaling it and letting his magic slip from the camera as he did so. He was in. A bush was next to him, and he moved into it, destroying any risk of him being caught as he surveyed his surroundings. Whilst it was possible to make himself invisible, the photokinetic method required a lot of energy, and though Ra's knew how to defend himself from the telepathic method, he had no idea how one would actually do it.

Harry observed the scene before him. Though the house was modern, there didn't appear to be any CCTV cameras on the inside of the walls – probably so no magic was recorded – and if he scaled one of the pillars in front of him he could get onto a balcony from, which point entry into the house would be easy. By the front gate, however, stood a man with a handgun on his hip and a stick of wood in his pocket. Harry's eyes narrowed. A wizard.

A glance at the front door revealed another similarly armed man.

Taking advantage of the moment they both weren't looking anywhere near him, Harry darted forward leaping onto the wall and rapidly getting up onto the balcony – and then he froze. Less than three metres from him, facing the other way, stood a wizard.

As he had been trained, and he had done with the Dursleys all those years ago, Harry separated himself from his emotions. He would kill this man quickly and silently. He reached for his waist and slid a knife from its sheath. The cool leather was comfortable in his grip on more than one level, instilling confidence within him.

Harry sneaked forward before simultaneously kicking the back of the man's knee and dragging him downwards by placing a hand over his mouth. The man only had a split-second to struggle before he was killed by a knife being stabbed into his brain via the soft area behind his ear.

Lowering the body to the ground, Harry briefly inspected the wand before snapping it in half. If he was going to have a wand, he was going to have one suited to him, not some random Egyptian's one.

Turning to the doors behind him, he found them locked. Briefly, he contemplated taking the keys but abruptly decided that he wasn't quite ready to go rummaging through the pockets of a corpse. Instead he waved his hand over the lock, pushing his magic through the tumblers. The door opened with a slight click, and Harry stepped into the house.

He immediately surveyed his surrounding, noting there were no visible threats before relying on his hearing. Voices spoke from downstairs, but the closer noise was that of someone tapping on a keyboard.

Harry moved down the corridor and singled down the noise to a locked door. He bit his lip. The person behind this door was likely his target, though unlocking the door might alert him of his entry. Still, he was confident that the chances of that were low, and that he would still be able to escape afterwards.

Waving a hand over the lock, Harry opened the door. Instantly he was confronted by the sight of a man turning on a computer chair, his eyes widening in horror as he was surprised by the sudden appearance of a child clad in ninja clothes with weapons to match and intense Killing Curse green eyes.

In that moment, all seemed to pause. Harry stared at the man, and the man stared back. Then everything was moving again and the man was reaching for a gun atop his desk, opening his mouth to yell. Harry couldn't let him do either of those things, and attempted to wrap his magic around the man's throat.

Things, however, didn't go to plan. For Harry, delicate magic and killing another person both required tremendous amounts of emotional control. He would've remained calm if not for the fact he was also holding back panic. All of his previous kills hadn't made him see the face of his victim as they died, and when forced to watch so suddenly, a part of Harry's emotional control stopped.

Unfortunately for the man, it was the magic part, and a wave of concussive force smashed into him, hurling him backwards and crashing into his desk. Gaining control over himself, Harry surged forward and jammed his already-bloodied dagger into a gap in the man's ribcage, plunging it into his heart.

The cold, ruthless efficiency of an assassin shoving itself to the front of his mind once again, Harry didn't even take a moment to watch the life leave the man's eyes. Instead he immediately began to analyse his possible methods of escape. The commotion in this room would undoubtedly draw attention to this room, so going out its window was out of the question. People would be coming up the stairs as well, so his best option would be to depart from a window on the opposite side of the house.

His objective firm in his mind, Harry burst into action, turning and running from the room.

,

Apparently he had underestimated the response time of the wizards for one was already at the top of his stairs as Harry burst from the room, an ancient Coptic incantation already forming upon his lips. Whatever spell he had been attempting was cut off before finish as the silver blade of Harry's scimitar whipped from its sheathe and slashed across the man's throat, reducing his words to gargles.

Not allowing any emotion to cloud his judgement, Harry kicked the body back down the stairs, knocking it atop of another man to delay him before beginning to run again.

All stealth thrown to the wind, Harry booted a door open and leaped into the air, curling himself into a protective ball as he collided with a window and flipped towards the ground in a shower of broken glass.

The world span around him for a moment before he landed lightly on his feet, performing a flawless roll before taking off at a sprint again. As Arabic yells sounded from the house behind him, Harry leaped over the wall in a magic-fuelled bound and vanished into the night.

A/N: Sorry about taking ages to update, but tell me what you thought.