Harry James Potter.

Young. Brave. Hero.

Loving. Trusting. Naïve.

A Serious Saving People Complex.

The Golden Boy.

The Golden Pawn.

It had been centuries since I last heard that name. It was the name of a child, a child I knew better than anyone. A child I had forsaken and by doing so had Killed.

"There is no Harry Potter in Vendicare. "

It was the truth.

Harry Potter no longer existed.

Harry Potter had died when he was a year old at the hands of a minor Dark Lord. He had died the moment he entered that Veil in exchange for his Godfather. Harry Potter had died upon the moment Jager had stumbled upon the then toddler in the middle of that destroyed field back in Seventeenth-Century England and brought him back to the recently widowed Lord he served.

I should know, after all, I was the one who finalized his death.

It would appear Vongola Decimo's Guardians do not believe me. It matters not to me, they can deny the truth all they want but that won't change it.

"Inform your client they are wrong. We of the Vindice have never arrested one: Harry James Potter. He is not nor has ever been within the care of Vendicare."

Decimo, himself, didn't seem bothered by the words; No doubt his Hyper Intuition was informing the younger there was no lie in his words, but the brunette also held a consecrate look.

"Is he one of the Guards?"

"No."

It was the truth and no amount of threats, begging or pleading could change that.

After all, Bermuda von Veckenschtein was no Harry Potter.

Nor was I a Guard.

Chapter 1

Most stories start at the beginning, Once Upon a Time, as most fairy tales would put it, but not mine.

My story started at an end that wasn't quite The End.

It started with a Veil of all things, but not just any Veil: The Veil of Death.

It wasn't anything fancy-A stone archway in the middle of a dais located within the center of an empty room- and if not for the whispers that came from the water like liquid that created the veil, it could have easily been ignored. The room itself was called The Death Chamber- Looking back on it, battling the Death Eaters within a room with such a name was all but asking for trouble- as the Veil itself had once been used to execute countless of people.

Chaos was the only real way to describe what happened next. Everything just happened so fast.

The once empty chamber had turned into a war zone.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Ginny limping slightly with Neville at her side, one of his hand hanging uselessly at his side, as Luna keep her back to both of theirs. Hermione was by Ron, a fire in her eyes unlike any I had seen before, both looking banged up but as determined they had ever been.

They shouldn't be here, a part of my mind had whispered before Bellatrix had drawn my full attention.

The duel was short but seemed to draw on forever before The Order was suddenly flooding the chamber and with them Sirius.

Sirius who hadn't even hesitated to place himself between my being and the threat. It was strange in its own way until now I had always been expected to face the perils myself but now there was someone more than willing to do so in my stead, but for all his strength though, Sirius had one major flaw.

He could never live up to his Namesake.

Sirius Black could never be a serious man, not even in a life or death battle.

"Come on, you can do better than that."

A furious gleam had entered Bellatrix's eyes but the laughter never left Sirius' eyes. Sometimes I doubt he ever saw the spell coming.

It was pure instinct that had me pushing the still laughing man out of the way of Bellatrix's spell only to be hit directly in the chest. There was a sharp crack as the impact alone threw me off my feet.

I never hit the ground again.

Instead, there was a numbing sense that had filled my body, taking away any pain the spell might have caused. I could hear voices whispering in my ear as I was lifted further away from the ground and deeper into the veil.

A silence had filled the chamber of horrified or stunned faces all turned to watch, even Sirius. The last thing I saw of the man was his laughter turning into indisputable horror. Darkness consumed my vision as his voice pierced through the silence.

"Harry!"

That should have been it. Everyone knew only Death awaited those who entered the veil and honestly, I supposed I deserved it.

My recklessness, my foolishness, had led those who trusted me into a trap. I had ignored every instinct I held in favor of believing dreams over reality. I should have done something different. Maybe use the two-way mirror Sirius had gifted me instead of listening to Kreacher- who I knew hated Sirius and myself- and charging in headfirst without a proper thought let alone plan.

It didn't matter now.

I was at the end.

Harry James Potter's story was over.

Or rather it should have been.

One moment I was just floating within the darkness and the next there was a sharp tug at what felt to be my very being before a blinding light flooded my sight alongside the sensation of free falling.

I didn't even have time to scream as I plummeted towards the snow-covered earth below.

Honestly, I don't recall ever hitting the ground- it was probably for the best- most likely the impact had knocked me out instantly but what I do recall is waking to the feeling of being carried within someone's arms. I must have hit my head upon impact since I never once considered leaving those arms or at least screaming like most children would have done upon waking in such cases.

Death.

It was becoming a common factor in his Lord's life.

His Lord's oldest son had died only a year ago.

His Lord's second son had died six months ago.

His Lady had died in childbirth but the child itself had been stillborn only a month ago.

Now his Lord was dying and the Veckenschtein Family would surely perish with him as there were no more Heirs to inherit the Lordship.

Times were grim, even the eight-year-old Jager could see that, and his Lord was becoming desperate. So desperate his Lord had thrown himself into Black Magic of all things in hopes it would supply him with an Heir. Though he didn't voice it aloud, Jager was certain his Lord was falling into madness. His Lord refused to eat, to sleep, or to even step out of his study and when he finally did, Jager half wished he didn't. His Lord had ranted and raved about some ritual and how they needed to go to England of all places, immediately.

It was there his Lord had brought them to the countryside and drew out a ritual that covered a good quarter mile of the snow-filled land in blood of all things- Jager did his best not to think about where his Lord had gotten the blood and the sudden retirement of several of his Lord's other servants- before speaking in a language the dark-haired boy did not recognize. Was it even a language at all or just gibberish?

They must have stood out there for a good hour before his Lord fell silent. The silence stretched into the night yet nothing seemed to happen and the further it stretched the tighter his Lord's became upon that journal he recited the words from. He could see his Lord's other servants glancing at one another, silently prompting one to speak or step forward but when one- Gabriel, if he recalled correctly- opened his mouth the sky itself seemed to open. There were no other words he could think to describe it as the star-filled sky seemed to part showing a whirlpool of Crimson and purple with a hint of black before what seemed to be a star was falling out of the rift- maybe?- and towards the earth.

His excitement was clear within his Lord's eyes as he commanded for them to follow. Even with his Lord's orders though many did not- would not- instead choosing to share glances with one another as though silently attempting to pressure another into doing it. Eventually, it was Jager himself how carried out his lord's orders without hesitation. He wasn't sure why- maybe he should have run like some of the others- but something told him he needed to.

The ground shuddered in the distance, the star no doubt having finally reached the earth.

The moment they had reached the crater none had dared to enter the smoking ruin that had once no doubt been a field, not even his Lord. When his Lord had order someone else to enter the other servants had all shared a look and took a step back, all but him. He couldn't step back- he wouldn't. The feeling was back all but screaming at him something important was awaiting him inside the ruin. So he had stepped forward instead and thrown caution to the wind as he entered the crater.

It was there at the bottom he found what he was looking for and the one thing Jager knew for certain was:

That was not a star.

Instead, lying unconscious at the bottom of the crater was a child with disheveled black hair and pale skin, that looked quite similar to his Lord. The child itself looked no older than one maybe two years old. Too small, too fragile. Was this the result of his Lord's Madness?

In the end, it didn't matter, the child was what that feeling in the back of his wanted him to find so he could not leave the younger there- not to forget his Lord would be expecting him to return with something. The child didn't stir when he lifted the small- he was too light- up and half hide the younger inside his cloak to shelter it from the weather.

It was only when they were almost out of the crater that Jager felt the toddler show any signs of actual life and glanced down causing golden eyes to meet a stunning shade of emerald. There was something about that gaze- something Jager couldn't quite explain even if his Lord was to demand him to- it wasn't wrong though but rather it reminded the young boy of home.

The moment they left the crater his Lord was by him in an instant taking the young one from his arms with a wide smile in place.

"Welcome Home, Bermuda. Bermuda von Veckenschtein."

His Lord was most likely aiming for a look of excitement with that smile but considering his current blood splattered look... His Lord looked more insane then excited. The newly christened Bermuda seemed to agree for not a moment later the toddler started bawling his lungs out.

Jager didn't blame the Little One in the least.

I have been kidnapped by a Mad Man.

Those were my first thoughts upon meeting Volkmar von Veckenschtein, though in my defense the man was splattered in what I highly suspect was blood and grinning in a way that made Bellatrix seem sane. I tried to speak but words seemed impossible to form at the moment and I was too small to really kick the man so I did the only option I could in my situation:

I screamed bloody murder- for I was quite certain the man holding me at the time had committed a bloody murder rather recently- until I was passed along like a hot potato and back into the arms of the only one that felt safe enough not to. I could hear them speaking what seemed to be a rapid fire of German, though all I could really understand was a couple of words such as:

Rest...Checkup...Caretaker...and Jager.

None of it really made much sense without the context, though seeing how the one holding me suddenly went at attention after the last bit, I had a feeling Jager had been his name. Well, the least I could do was remember that, after all, Jager seemed like the only sane person here besides myself.

His Little Lord wasn't even with them for a month before His Lord decided it was time for the other Nobles to meet his Heir. In Jager's own opinion, it was still too early but what did he know about the dictatorship of Lords and their Progenies?

He was but a servant- even if he was favored due to His Little Lords attachment- of another class which might as well be another world. The only reason he was even allowed to glimpse into their world was that of His Little Lord, who Jager was certain was purposely throwing a temper every time he was more than ten feet from the young one's side.

After all, no one suddenly went from waterworks worthy of a waterfall into smirking like the devil if they truly meant the emotions they were showing, especially when said person was an infant. Yet Bermuda seemed to have made an art form of it. It was one of the reasons Jager secretly suspected the infant had a higher intelligence then he let on, which was why he never spoke to the other as one would a regular infant: There was no need to.

It was a shame no one else seemed to notice though, maybe if they did Bermuda could tolerate their presences a bit longer than he currently does. Lifting the smaller, Jager allowed his gaze to lock upon the emerald's the other called eyes.

"Tonight is your Introduction Party. How you behave tonight will reflect not only upon yourself but the House of Veckenschtein and those that call its walls home. So do try to behave My Lord. "

Those emeralds held his golden gaze a moment longer before His Little Lord slowly nodded his head.

The party drawled out well into midnight.

It was clear from the start many had come solely to challenge the right of the new fount Scion.

Many no doubt believed the Little One not to be the Lord's child- after all, everyone knew his wife had died months before the child was announced -but some of those plans were cut short upon sight of a child at least a year old with his Lord's dark hair and his former Lady's eyes.

Had he not known the truth, Jager himself might have fallen for the ploy his Lord had created when he announced the child's birth had been kept a secret due to safety regards that his now deceased wife insisted upon. After all, she had already lost two sons to questionable deaths.

What better way was there to ensure the youngest safety than to ensure no outsiders knew about him?

Still, it didn't stop the calculating gleams or the sneering glances as some of the guests no doubt began to refine their schemes. There was no doubt in Jager's mind that many were daughters of acceptable ages would soon be coming to visit or other's wishing to use their sons to make connections would be darkening their doorsteps within the coming years- if they even waited that long.

Throughout most of the party, Jager kept himself to the shadows, staying well out of sight of the Guests while keeping an eye on His Little Lord, who kept giving the guests evil looks behind their backs yet smiling innocently like an angel when they glanced his way. It was only when the grandfather clock struck two did Jager allow himself to step from the shadows and collect His Little Lord, who had a gleam in his eyes all but broadcasting the Little One's desire to commit murder upon the next person unfortunate enough to pinch his checks or attempt to baby talk him.

Jager is an angel.

I don't care what anyone else says, Jager is an angel sent from the Pearly Gates of Heaven itself.

If I had to sit there and listen to that brain-dead speech or having women with nails that should be classified as claws pinch me one more time I would have committed genocide. I was actually in the middle of plotting how to commit such actions while within a toddlers body when the Heavenly Angel swooped in to save the both my sanity and the would be- yet unknowing- victims.

I half listened to Jager speak in that soothing tone as the older carried me towards our room while trying to resist the urge to fall asleep then and there. It wasn't easy, Jager was always to warm and his tone was always calm and smooth to the point I was certain he could tame a furious dragon with it alone.

Chapter 2

Age: 3

I never thought the day would actually come that I would willingly sympathize with Malfoy of all people- who knew all it would take was to be thrown into another world and a good couple of centuries in the past?-but if this is what he had to deal with growing up. Well, It was a miracle Malfoy was even capable of proper function.

There were rules for anything and everything, from Breathing to Crafting Royal Treaties for Foreign Lands-exactly why does a three-year-old need to know that? What, do they expect a Foreign Land to kidnap a toddler to write their treaties for them?- and everything in-between. I wish I could ask them but apparently, everything taught in these lessons were supposed to be classified and known only to the those on the upper end of Society's Ladder. When I was informed this I had smiled and nodded my head like a good child while promising to keep it a secret from those blood made them 'Non-deserving'.

The moment I was alone, I started teaching Jager.

Jager, as it turned out, was a quick learner, he took to knowledge like a fish took to water. And though I would never voice it aloud, I was beginning to suspect there was nothing Jager couldn't do.

If you were to give him a months worth of work he would have it done within two hours tops. Bored? No problem, Jager could sing, dance, practically play any instrument that he could touch and tell a story that would put the best of storytellers to shame. Hungry? Who needs a five-star chief let alone a restaurant when Jager was there. Lost in a foreign land? No problem, Jager already has a map, has a path back to safety memorized and can speak the country's language. Drove off a famous Mathematics Tutor? That perfectly okay, Jager can teach it better and in a language you actually understand.

All in all, Jager was the Perfect Heir or would have been had he been born to the Wife and not the Mistress.

Yet as fate would have it Jager had been born a Bastard and Society would rather see the family demolished them allow a Bastard to inherit anything that could change the other's status in the caste system. As far as Bermuda was concerned they were all fools allowing their prejudice to reign supreme. Even Jager's, or rather our own father, would rather resort to murder and Black Magic than just name his only surviving son as Heir.

It was the height of stupidity and to think Malfoy of all people grew up experiencing this as a normal everyday function. No wonder he was lacking in the brain department if this was all the Malfoy Scion had to measure his own against.

And then there were the Social Functions.

Countless hours wasted listening to the prattle of children- in both toddler and adult forms alike- without a lick of common decency or sense between the lot of them. Honestly, If Bermuda wasn't aware of the golden eyes always on his back, the other might have been tempted to cause a bit of trouble especially when one of the dolled up daughters planted a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

If Jager was honest he had no idea what had happened.

He would clearly remember watching over His Little Lord and helping the younger clear the lipstick off his cheeks when one of the Guest- a Lady Greidor- had made an offhand comment with a sneer clear on her face while glancing his way. Honestly, It wasn't the first time he had experienced discrimination due to the caramelized color of his skin nor would it be the last but it would be the last from Lady Greidor. Jager wasn't sure how it happened but only moments after the harsh words had left her lips had the stain glass window she was facing while talking to Lord Greidor had exploded.

Screaming had filled the hall and utter chaos as some people rushed from the room- while others attempted to force their way forward to help- in mindless panic.

He didn't know what happened but for a moment Jager had caught sight of glowing emerald eyes, that looked far more unnatural than normal before His Little Lord was running away himself. Jager didn't hesitate to follow.

An idea of what could have happened already forming within his mind.

Bermuda had not been born naturally but by his Lords attempt into accessing magic, who was to say the magic did not stay? If his theory was correct, Bermuda had likely taken ill to the ladies words and had lashed out without meaning too. His Little Lord would need to calm down before any more accidents happened that night.

Though Jager never voices it, it's easy finding His Little Lord.

The warmth instead his being always guide him to the younger when he truly wishes to locate the other. He had used it many of times to cheat when having made bets with the other servants or to just outright now where the toddler was hiding. This time is no different. His Little Lord has hidden himself well within their bedroom's rafters but it takes Jager no time to locate the other and pluck him off the wooden beam. He cannot help but notice, those emerald eyes are still glowing yet he pays it no mind.

It doesn't matter. Nothing else matters at that moment but ensuring His Little Lord's safety and peace of mind... and maybe getting His Little Lord to stop trying to escape his hold before he drops the young one. It wouldn't due to crack the younger's head open like an egg. He cannot help but tighten his hold as the thought crosses his mind.

"Bermuda, please stop squirming or I might drop you."

It does not take much for Jager to calm His Little Lord down and though Bermuda does not voice it aloud Jager likes to believe it is a sign of how much trust His Little Lord has for him. After all, not even his Lord can calm Bermuda when the other was in a certain mood. When he is later confronted by his Lord, he does not mention Bermuda's glowing eyes let alone his theory. It would not due to draw attention to His Little Lord, not even if that attention is from his Lord.

The first time Bermuda hear about Flames it is from a would-be kidnapper.

It is his fourth birthday and the sickly Lord Veckenschtein had insisted they celebrate it at a private park. Jager had not even been gone from his side for five minutes before the young toddler now known as Bermuda notices them. A pair of men, dressed at the height of current day fashion. They speak lowly but constantly glance to where he sitting under a tree while waiting every now and then as though to make sure he's still there.

Maybe it's their constant action or something rather similar in their gazes but either way, it sets of mental alarms in an instant.

"..Sky... Famiglia..."

He does not understand what they mean by Sky or why they speak of it with such reverence but he recalls the word Famiglia from one of Jager's lessons. If he wasn't mistaken it was Italian for Family though Bermuda is quite certain the men are not his family. Matter of fact, if anything, he would swear they were straight out of one of the old mafia movies Dudley used to enjoy watching and mimicking. It was a ridiculous thought, in all honesty, he wasn't quite sure why the comparison had even appeared within his mind but once it did the idea seemed right- as though it was no longer as ridiculous as it should have been.

He observes the two men as they seem to argue over something before the dark haired man shoves the blonde forward slightly making a slight 'go on' gesture when the other glances back at his companion.

"Hello, Little One. Are you lost?"

Defiantly Italian.

Now when one usually thought Italian they would most likely think of food such as Pasta, the accouchement of the mafia, art, love, carefree and beauty. Maybe in a modern time, that would be true but if there was one thing Jager had drilled into his skull it was that Italy of this day wasn't the Italy he knew in the future. Current day Italy was more of a cesspool of crime, violence, and murder. It was a filthy and disgusting place with no law or order.

"Your father asked me to bring you home," the blonde man offered a smile and held out his hand as though he really expected him to fall for that lie, "We don't want to keep him waiting do we?"

Obviously, this man thought him an imbecile.

Had he been a real child in mind as well as body, Bermuda might have fallen for it, but he was anything but. He knew Volker, the man would never send anyone but Jager to collect him after the first attempt was met with an unholy disaster. What? He was well aware he was mentally too old to be throwing tempers but honestly who would go anywhere with a man covered in blood and holding a knife dripping the crimson liquid onto the hardwood floors- it wasn't until later that Bermuda had discovered the man was actually the Head Chief and had come to check on him since Jager was running an errand for the man- it was a perfectly reasonable response.

Emerald eyes glanced from the man's hand to his bright blue eyes before slowly lifting a hand and pointing behind the blond.

"Jager."

There was something rather satisfying about watching the man's ocean blue eyes widen before he spun on heel to face the unknown, only to be thrown aside like a rag doll by a child who was at least twenty years younger than him. Jager, I had learned during the studies the older insisted I attend religiously, meant Hunter.

Jager himself, quite lived up to his name through the dark-haired toddler had at first assumed that it would only be for hunting itself, maybe even fishing, but now. Watching the twelve-year-old tear through grown man like paper Bermuda couldn't help but feel as though he had to refine his opinion.

Every move was quick and efficient, not a single gesture was wasted. It was beautiful in its own way, like a deadly dance upon a stage that none but Jager himself could see. Jager had always moved with the grace of a predator walking among sheep but it wasn't quite clear how much of a predator the older was until that moment.

Though Bermuda had to admit the purple fire was a bit new.

New -as it was defiantly to a type of magic he was familiar with- and highly impressive but still a blazing inferno. It took Bermuda a moment for the reality of what he was seeing to register completely in his mind:

Jager was on fire.

His reaction was more out of reflex than anything. After all, how could he allow the only other sane person he knew to burn to death before his eyes by mysterious purple flames?

"Aguamenti!"

Jager looked very much like a drowned kitten as golden eyes pierced the younger from behind a saturated curtain of pitch black hair in a deadpanned expression before gaining a diabolical gleam. Bermuda didn't bother questioning it when every instinct he had suddenly screamed at him to run- he still wasn't over the trauma from the last time he ignores the feeling- instead, the dark-haired child took off as fast as his small feet could take him.

He barely makes ten steps before he finds himself lifted within a firm hold as his feet kick uselessly at the air. Its only upon meeting the demonic gleam within the elder's golden eyes does Bermuda realize exactly how alone he truly is with Jager. The maniac smirk that slowly splits the other's face doesn't help matters in the least.

No one really questions it when Jager shows up later with a drenched Bermuda- who seemed to have replaced his hair with moss- tucked almost out of view within the elder child's cloak. After all, everyone knew their Little Lord was rather maladroit when Jager wasn't within the vicinity.

Though he didn't voice it aloud, Jager was satisfied. His Little Lord was drenched to the bone while giving him an evil- it was more adorable then evil though he would never tell His Little Lord that- look yet the older of the two did not mind.

Justice- coughRevengecough- was his.