Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to JKR, the Inquisition belongs to Games Workshop, and the assorted characters belong to Games Workshop, and Dan Abnett.

Note: This will NOT be a sci-fi fic. No space ships, futuristic technology (although there will be advanced magic technology), aliens, or other worlds. This is all on planet Earth.

Inspired by Warhammer 40,000 and the Eisenhorn trilogy by Dan Abnett.

Summery: After being found by an Inquisitor on assignment, Harry Potter is taken to the Inquisition headquarters to undergo training where he become the youngest Inquisitor in over five hundred years, graduating at the age of fifteen. Unfortunately, when the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry discovers his identity, he manages to get Harry, now age sixteen, assigned to the school as a protector, and teacher. With the recent resurgence of Death Eaters, and a certain Dark Lord, Harry has little choice but to comply. Unfortunately, Harry's troubles may just be beginning. A hidden enemy waits in the dark for it's time to strike, and plunge the world into chaos, and all of it's plans centre on the young Inquisitor. Add to this trouble with bounty hunters, his fellow Inquisitors, and teenage hormones, and Harry is in for a rough mission.

A young Harry Potter wandered down the dark street. His thin hands were shoved deep into his many sizes too big trousers, a hand-me-down from his overweight cousin, Dudley. It was late evening now, almost midnight, far past the curfew of a four year old like himself but he didn't care. Anytime he came home would always either be too late or too early for his relatives liking. At the very least he could expect a cuff to the back of the head, a berating lecture about how he was a good-for-nothing waste and sent to his cupboard At worst…

He shuddered. He didn't want to think of what would happen if his Uncle was in a bad mood and he just happened to be in the way. That was a situation that never ended well. Or painlessly. He still remembered the time his Uncle's company lost a particularly large client and Harry accidentally broke one of the plates. The scars still itched sometimes…

He sighed and turned off Mongolia Road, heading towards the empty park. Since it was early summer the breeze was rather warm so his thin clothes were of no concern, even at night. When he reached the park he plopped down onto one of the empty swings, letting it sway back and forth slightly. His stomach rumbled painfully and he wrapped his arms around it, trying to will the ache to go away. Dudley had been allowed to have his friends around today and his Aunt Petunia had decided that there wasn't enough food for him, despite the large bags of groceries sitting on the kitchen counter at the time. Apparently even a little food was too much for the little orphan.

And that was what he was. Harry Potter, age four, orphaned at age one and sent to live with his 'hardworking, respectable' Aunt and Uncle. He didn't know much about his parents, only that they were drunks who died in a car crash when he was little. A car crash which gave him the distinct lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Despite it's ugly origins, the scar was one of the few things about his appearance he liked. When compared to his skinny, underfed frame and his untameable black hair, it was easy for the small mass of scar tissue to be his favourite 'accessory' as it where. Other than that, the only thing he guessed he liked was his eyes which were an unusual shade of green, one that would become brighter or darker depending on his mood.

He was broken from his revere by a large explosion from behind, the shockwave throwing him forward to the ground as the heat from the blast washed over him. Ears ringing, he groggily managed to turn onto his back and push himself into a sitting position, only for his eyes to widen at the sight before him.

The grassy field before him was pockmarked with craters, flames littering the ground, providing light as shadowed figures ran to and fro, beams of multicoloured lights erupting from their hands, some hitting the moving shadows, others hitting the ground causing more small explosions. The figures were shouting but he couldn't hear anything apart from the ringing in his ears thanks to the blast.

Within minutes many of the shadows fell to the beams of light, some with screams, others silently. Harry's ears were beginning to recover from the sound of the explosion when he heard a shout, a whooshing sound, and a grunt as someone hit the ground. Startled, Harry crawled to the source of the sound and peered past the slide where he could see two shadowed figures; one on the ground, panting, and another standing over the first. The second figure's hand was pointed towards the one on the ground and Harry saw that the hand clutched a long, smooth stick.

"Well, Alizabeth, it looks like I win this time." The first figure taunted, it's high, screechy voice that of a man.

The figure on the ground, Alizabeth Harry presumed, clutched it's hand in pain and Harry thought he could see something wet on the limb. "After all this time you should realise that if I don't kill you one of my colleagues will, Solomon." A rich, English accented voice retorted, one Harry knew had to belong to a woman.

"I doubt that. Once I kill you I'll be out of this country within the hour and your petty Inquisition will never find me." Solomon gloated as the stick began to glow a sickly green.

Harry tried to inch closer to see their faces when his foot connected with a wayward stone, sending it skipping across the ground and connecting loudly against the metal ladder leading to the top of the slide.

Solomon whipped his wand towards the sound and smirked as he saw the small Muggle child cowering beside the slide. "Well hello there!" He called cheerfully but somehow Harry didn't feel at ease. If anything he felt even more afraid. "What's a little Muggle like you doing outside at a time like this? Do you see this, Alizabeth? What has happened to today's youth?"

Alizabeth turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of the small boy directly in the path of Solomon's wand. The kid couldn't have been more than three or four. She glanced around frantically for her own wand but saw that it was a few feet to his right. Too far away if she wanted to try and grab it before Solomon killed her or the boy. Frustrated she yelled, "Kid, run!"

Harry didn't have to be told twice but before he could turn, the green light shot out of Solomon's wand and struck the slide, bouncing off with a loud clang and ricocheting into the air. Harry yelled in fright and launched himself to the side as another spell shot past him, the beam scorching the skin of his exposed forearm. He hit the ground with a thud and looked up to see the man with his wand pointed right at him, a blazing orange glow at it's tip.

Instinctively, Harry brought his hands up to shield his face when he felt a pressure erupt from his outstretched palms. The distortion cleared the distance between the man and boy in an instant and sent Solomon tumbling back through the air before landing with a painful thud. Snarling in rage, he pulled himself to his feet and pointed his wand directly at the boy's face.

"Avada Ked--!"

He was cut off as a red jet of light impacted his chest, sending onto his back, unconscious. Harry looked up to see the woman, Alizabeth, get roughly to her feet, her wand trained on the man at all times. Wordlessly, she summoned his wand and tucked it into one of her inner pockets before binding him with tight ropes. With a weary sigh she healed her cut hand and turned to the shocked boy staring up at her, his face pale.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice filled with gentle concern.

Gulping nervously, Harry nodded.

She noticed the burn on his forearm and gestured towards it. "May I?"

Hesitantly, Harry held out his arm, ready to yank it back in at a moment's notice. Alizabeth took his wrist in a gentle grip, and inspected the wound. It was nothing more than a graze which was lucky as the curse that caused it would have taken his arm off if it had connected. She dragged her wand lightly across the wound and Harry was amazed to see the scorched skin heal and vanish leaving an untarnished arm in it's wake.

"H-How did…" Harry could only stutter out in a jumbled stream.

Alizabeth smirked. "Magic."

Harry looked up at her and could finally see some detail now that she was out of the shadows. She was a beautiful woman, that was for certain. Not sexy but beautiful in a more classy way. High cheekbones denoted healthy living, and fine lineage while luscious black hair cascaded down her back as bright blue eyes glittered with compassion and intelligence. She wore no jewellery or make-up save for a light coat of black eye shadow to accentuate her eyes. Glancing down, he saw that she was clad in a dark purple leather coat that fell to her knees over a breastplate made of what looked like black, scaled leather and a pair of pair of black stonewashed combat denims tucked into a pair of heeled boots. She immediately gave the impression of a swashbuckler, at least a noble, highborn one.

"Can you tell me your name?" She asked, getting Harry's attention once more.

"H-Harry Potter, ma'am."

Alizabeth's eyebrows arched in surprise and her eyes flicked towards his fringe which hid his lightning bolt scar before returning to his face. "Hello, Harry, my name's Alizabeth Bequin. Can you tell me what your doing out here at this time of night? Won't your, uh, parents be worried about you?"

Harry glanced down at his feet. "I don't have any." He mumbled. "I'm an orphan, I live with my Aunt and Uncle."

"I'm sorry." Alizabeth said sympathetically. Then she looked thoughtful. "Harry? Can you tell me what you did a moment ago? When you threw that man across the ground, can you tell me how you did it?"

Harry's eyes flew up and he became panicked. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident, I promise!"

She quickly grasped his hands to prevent him from bolting and tried to calm him. "Harry, you're not in trouble so don't worry. You probably saved my life with what you did and helped me catch a very bad man that I've been looking for." She laced her voice with a minor compulsion charm to make him believe her.

It worked and he visibly calmed but she didn't let go of his hands. Once she was sure he wouldn't to run off she tried again. "So can you tell me what happened, Harry?"

Harry just shrugged. "I don't know. I was scared and when he pointed his stick at me I threw up my hands and he went flying back."

"So you didn't do it on purpose?"

Harry shook his head negative and inwardly Alizabeth was impressed. 'Accidental magic that powerful is a rare thing. That bastard had a shield around him and Harry managed to blast through it with ease. This is one powerful boy.'

She was broken out of her musings when she saw one of her group approaching.

It was Midas Betancore; her pilot, driver, and all around travel agent. The dark skinned man was clad in his usual black Dragon hide boots, breeches and tunic with red piping and his favourite cerise silk jacket over that. The man was light in build with a slender face and slightly taller than her.

"Got them all, Alizabeth. Some were killed in the fight but we managed to catch most of them. No casualties on our side." He said, his voice holding what sounded like a Hispanic accent. His brow arched as he saw her sitting in front of a small, messy haired child. "Hello, what have we got here? You been popping out kids while we were doing all that nasty fighting, Lizzie?"

Alizabeth glared at her friend and associate. "No, you moron, he was hiding nearby when we were fighting. And don't call me Lizzie!"

Midas chuckled and glanced towards the bound form of Solomon. "I guess you finally caught him then?"

Alizabeth smirked. "Actually, he's the one who caught Solomon. Saved my life in the process too. Broke through shield with a wave of accidental magic, no resistance at all."

Midas whistled appreciatively through his teeth and looked at Harry appraisingly. The boy didn't look like much if the oversized clothes were anything to go by. He glanced back at Alizabeth, somewhat doubtful. "You sure, Beth? I'm mean he don't look like the kind of person that could break through the shield of someone like Solomon Lok?"

Alizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. I saw it with my own eyes. Don't call me Beth either. And for future reference, don't call me Liz, Ali, Liza, Alibee, or, God forbid, Boss Man, or I'll strangle you with that jacket you like so much."

Midas fake shuddered and backed up a step. "So angry. So violent." He grinned. "I think I'm in love."

Alizabeth could only shake her head in exasperation and turn back to Harry, tuning Midas out. "Now, Harry, how's about we get you home? Your Aunt and Uncle might be getting worried."

She was surprised as Harry seemed to recede into himself, before giving a small, "Okay."

She nodded and turned back to Midas who was poking Lok's unconscious body with the toe of his boot. "Midas, take over here for me. Make sure to get the prisoners back to the base and leave someone to deal with the damage and the authorities."

Midas gave a playful bow and took out his wand to levitate Lok's body, before leading it over to where the rest of their team was assembled.

Alizabeth turned back to Harry, who was gaping at the man floating in mid air. She reached out to gently close his open mouth and Harry blinked before smiling, embarrassed. She stood up and dusted off her clothes before reaching out a hand for Harry's. "Coming?"

With only a moments hesitation, Harry took Alizabeth's hand and she led him out of the park after asking for his address. It was past midnight and they were the only ones in the street, the only sound being the sound of their steps. Alizabeth noticed that the closer they got to Privet Drive, the more fearful and resigned Harry's expression became, the only thing keeping him from slowing being Alizabeth's steady pace. It didn't take a genius to see that Harry didn't want her to meet his family. 'Either that or he doesn't want to see his family.' A small voice in her head ventured.

Soon enough they reached Number Four and Alizabeth saw the living room light was on, signifying that someone was awake. She led a reluctant Harry up the path and discreetly cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on her armour as Harry opened the front door and stood aside to let her enter. No sooner had the door clanked shut than a man's booming voice filled the house.

"BOY, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!? YOU WERE TOLD TO HAVE YOUR MISERABLE ARS--" The large, beefy man stopped dead when he registered the stranger in him home, accompanying his worthless freak of a nephew who stood off to the side, trying to blend into the background. "Who're you?" He asked the woman rudely.

Alizabeth took it in stride as she withdrew a badge from her coat, and flashed it at Dursley. "I'm Inspector Alizabeth Bequin, Scotland Yard."

Immediately, Dursley changed from 'rude pig' to 'simpering idiot' in 0.2 seconds. He plastered a sickeningly fake smile on his face and altered between looking nervously at Alizabeth and glancing murderously at Harry. "Oh?" He asked, his voice squeaky with false cheer. "What can we do for you inspector? I hope that my nephew hasn't caused too much trouble? He's always been causing us no end of stress, always making trouble and getting in fight--"

"Actually, Mr Dursley," Alizabeth interrupted coldly, thankful that she'd asked Harry his relatives names before they arrived. "Harry hasn't done anything wrong. If anything, he helped me a great deal. Myself, and my colleagues were pursuing a group of dangerous criminals when we had a confrontation with them in the park just off Mongolia Road. I had been injured and if it wasn't for Harry here, I would have died and a wanted criminal would have gotten away. Harry here, is a hero."

Vernon's eyes widened and he stared at his nephew in shocked suspicion before reverting to his pleasant façade. "Oh well, that's my boy!" He laughed nervously and Harry looked at his Uncle with something between amazement and incredulousness.

Alizabeth resisted the urge to sneer at the idiot's utter lack of acting skills, although it was close. She was about to speak again when a voice from the kitchen interrupted.

"Vernon? Who is it?" A rather horse faced woman poked her head out the kitchen door only for her eyes to widen when she saw her husband shuffling nervously in front of a black haired woman and her nephew. "Vernon?"

"Ah Petunia! Petunia, dear, this is Inspector Bucklan from Scotland Yard. Inspector, this is my wife, Petunia." He introduced.

"It's Inspector Bequin actually." Alizabeth corrected, giving the smallest of nods to Petunia.

"Oh, I'm sorry! How foolish of me, Inspector Bequin. Would you like to come in?" He asked gesturing towards the living room.

"I think I will." Alizabeth agreed.

"Ah, good." He turned to Harry who cringed back away from his Uncle, only making Alizabeth more suspicious. "Now, Harry, why don't you go upstairs and go to bed?" Vernon rather forcibly suggested but before Harry could move Alizabeth's hand shot out to rest firmly on Harry's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Actually, I would very much prefer if Harry stayed. It is, after all, him we are talking about." Alizabeth requested but her voice told them that there was only one correct way to answer.

"Of course!" Vernon agreed, his darting eyes giving him the look of a trapped animal. He led Alizabeth, who's hand was still firmly on Harry's shoulder, into the living room. The woman steered the raven haired child to the two-seater beside the fire, and lowered them both into it as the two Dursleys sank into the two unoccupied chairs.

Deciding that she had wasted enough time here, Alizabeth went straight for the jugular. "I originally just wanted to see Harry home safe considering the time but on the way here I noticed that his clothes seem awfully large for his small frame. Also they don't seem to have been washed in quite a while and although I'm no medical expert he does seem woefully underfed. I was wondering if there was any particular reason for this?"

The Dursleys froze in their seats. Harry looked up at Alizabeth, who stared hard at the two sweating Muggles before her. Vernon managed to get himself partially together first, and managed to squeak out a stuttering reply. "W-W-Well, y-you see, with t-two boy's to c-c-care for money is scarce. W-We can't al-lways provide the b-best things--"

"But Mr Dursley," Alizabeth interrupted. "On the way in I saw three rather expensive cars in the drive and judging by the large telly over there, the fancy china, refurbished kitchen and the antique vase on the mantle you don't seem hard pressed for cash. If you can pay for those rather expensive comforts then why can't you afford to provide the upkeep for your nephew?"

Vernon was practically sweating bullets now. "I-I-I u-u-um--"

Alizabeth decided to dig a little deeper and probed the man's mind with a little Legillimency, only for her eyes to narrow further in anger. "Harry," She asked with a voice of forced calm, as to not make the boy think her anger was directed towards him. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer them as truthfully as you can, alright?"

Harry gulped to get rid of the nervousness in his throat, and gave a shaky nod.

"Okay. Now I want you to tell me, without looking at the Dursleys, where you have slept for the past four years." Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the Dursleys freeze and his Uncle Vernon shoot him a half pleading, half threatening glare. "Don't look at them, Harry, look at me."

Harry forced himself to look back at Alizabeth, who was sitting sideways on the settee which allowed her to look at Harry but keep the Dursleys in her line of sight. "The…the cupboard under the stairs."

Vernon shot up out of his seat. "He's lying! We never--"

"SIT!" Alizabeth roared, causing the other three to jump, and forcing Vernon to collapse into his chair. With a glare at the fat man, Alizabeth turned back to Harry. "Now, Harry, did they ever force you to do housework for them?"

Slightly confused, Harry nodded. "Yes but they were my chores, ma'am."

Glancing at the shaking couple across from them, Alizabeth asked, "What kind of chores, Harry?"

Harry listed them off by heart. "Clean the house, mow the lawn, cook the food, clean the car, sometimes rewire the plugs, I had to repave the garden path yesterday, retile the roof--"

"That's enough, Harry." Alizabeth said, her anger towards the Muggles growing rapidly. It was taking all her will power not to hex them into dust. 'Cook the food, rewire the plugs, RETILE THE FUCKING ROOF!? What is wrong with these people?'

She took a deep, calming breath as she prepared herself for the final question. Or rather, it's answer. "Harry?" She asked, her voice as gentle and soothing as she could make it. "Did they ever hit you?"

Everyone else in the living room froze. The Dursleys out of fear, Harry out of shock, embarrassment and fear. What was he supposed to say? If he said yes this lady could maybe get him out of there and away from the Dursleys forever but she could also leave him there and he would have to suffer his Uncle's wrath for divulging the secret. Hope and fear battled in his chest as he thought about what to do. His answer could very well change his life. Or end it.

Alizabeth could see his indecision and decided that he needed to say it for himself. "Harry?" She gently tilted his chin up so he was looking into her cool, blue eyes. "Did they hurt you?"

Harry took a shaky breath.

And nodded.

Dursley flew out of his char, his fat fingers reaching for the boy's throat. "STOP LYING, BOY!! I'LL KILL YOU!!"

In a flash Alizabeth was in front of Harry, her wand in hand and fire in her eyes. Before he could take two steps Alizabeth blasted the fat whale backwards with a very overpowered Stunner. The glutinous sack of waste flew over his chair and screaming wife and crashed into the tacky chandelier about the dining room table, shattering it before falling onto the table, crushing the poor wood beneath his tremendous girth. In no mood for the woman's caterwauling, Alizabeth quickly Silenced the bony faced shrew with a non-verbal silencio.

Harry sat in shocked silence. One minute his Uncle was coming towards him and the next the overgrown bully was decked out on his own dinner table and his Aunt's ear piercing shriek was silenced although he could still see her mouth moving. Alizabeth still stood between him and his relatives, her strange stick in her hand. He didn't even see her move. She just seemed to appear before him.

Alizabeth looked around at the damage. The man was out of it, bleeding slightly from the head and the woman wouldn't stop screaming despite her lack of a voice. Taking a claming breath to prevent doing anymore damage, she spoke to Harry without turning. "Harry, I want you to go, and gather your things. I'm leaving this place and I'm taking you with me. Try to hurry I don't want to be around these pathetic excuses for humans for too much longer."

Hardly daring to believe his ears, Harry ran into the hall and yanked open his cupboard door, removing the few meagre positions he had. After chucking his few clothes and possessions into a plastic bag that had been lying on the floor, Harry made is way back to Alizabeth. He found her in the exact spot she was in when he had left. It seemed Aunt Petunia had stopped screaming and had ran to her husband's down form, cowering beside him.

Alizabeth looked round when he entered and threw him a smile. "Ready to get out of here?"

Harry nodded excitedly, hardly daring to believe this was actually happening. Alizabeth would have laughed at his look of glee if it weren't for the circumstances. She watched as Harry turned to look at his relative. There was no anger, hate or indeed any emotion on his face. It was as if they were just a part of the scenery. "What'll happen to them?"

Alizabeth sighed and threw another glare at the cowering couple. "If they weren't Muggles I'd have probably already killed them by now. I have the authority to do it but I've never been able to bring myself to kill a Muggle especially with magic. I could also have them arrested but that would take time and effort and considering who you are I don't want to go through official channels with the British Ministry."

"What do you mean 'who I am'? What does that got to do with anything?"

Alizabeth shot him a confused glance before growling at the Dursleys. He could hear her mumbling something that sounded like, "Stupid…ucking…o good waste of…" She gathered herself and shook her head. "I'll tell you later, Harry. As I was saying, killing them is out, so is arresting them. People may get overly suspicious if we wipe your entire existence from their memories as not many people have the skill to do that so I think the best choice is to modify their memories to make it seem you ran away."

Harry blinked. "Wipe their memories? How?"

Alizabeth grinned and waved the stick in her hand at him. "Magic. Don't worry though they have to pay for the way they've treated you so I'm going to leave a few…surprises for them." An evil grin made it's way onto her face. "Why don't you wait outside Harry? I'll be out in a minute."

Not really wanting to see what she had in store for his relatives Harry quickly backed out of the living room and went outside, closing the door behind him. He didn't have to wait long as five minutes later Alizabeth exited, a satisfied smirk on her pretty face. She smiled cheerfully down at Harry. "You ready?"

Harry nodded and was surprised when she took his arm above the elbow and spun. He didn't know what was going on but all he knew was the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a rubber tube, a few streaks of light and a pressure preventing him from breathing then it was over. He stumbled forward, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Shakily, he looked up at Alizabeth. "W-What was that!?"

Alizabeth smiled sheepishly. "Apparation. Basically; near instant teleportation from one place to another. It takes some getting used to." She walked forward and Harry saw that they were in front of an old warehouse. He couldn't see much because of the darkness and lack of street lights but he reckoned it to be about a hundred feet wide. He watched as Alizabeth raised her stick and gave it a wave and to his amazement the large shutter to the warehouse slid open with a loud screech to display organised chaos.

People ran too and fro, chattering in a mixed jumble as they packed things up Crates both packed and half packed lay scattered around the place, waiting to be moved. Near the centre of the room was a large cage containing dozens of bound figures clad in black robes.

A dumbfounded Harry followed Alizabeth through the streams of people until they reached what could only be described as the eye of the storm as people clamoured for the attention of the men and women manning tables of what vaguely looked like computers. At the centre of it all was the man from earlier; Midas if Harry remembered correctly. He was going over a chart when he looked up to see Alizabeth approaching with the boy from earlier. He arched a brow.

"I thought you were taking him home." Midas said, gesturing to the small boy.

Alizabeth just shrugged. "There were…extenuating circumstances. I've decided to take him back to the Conclave and have him processed."

Midas' jaw fell and he gaped at the woman for a full minute before asking, "Are you high?"

Alizabeth laughed and closed Midas' mouth. "No, Midas, I'm not high."

"But do you know what you're doing!?" Midas asked, incredulously.

Alizabeth nodded, not at all affected by Midas' shock. "Of course, Midas. The boy is powerful and he has a wealth of potential. Once he is processed I plan to take him on as my Interrogator." She said without a trace of doubt then smiled. "I think he'll make a fine pupil."

"Excuse me but what's going on?"

They turned to see Harry at their side. Both were surprised that the young boy had managed to sneak up on them. Alizabeth smiled and crouched down to his eye level. "Well, we're just tidying up here then we're going home. I want to take you to my boss and have you made my student."

Harry's eyes were wide. "Really? What will I be learning?"

Alizabeth just smiled. "Magic."

Harry's head tilted to the side. "That's the third time you've said that. What does it mean and does it have anything to do with what you did to my Aunt and Uncle? In fact who are you guys?"

Alizabeth stood to her full, not-inconsiderable height and folded her arms under her chest. "My name is Alizabeth Bequin. I'm an Inquisitor of the Holy Order of the Inquisition. I also happen to be a Witch."

The headquarters of the Inquisition was located deep under the Himalayan Mountains. The complex was massive, dwarfing most modern cities. Kilometres of tunnels housed the most secret organisation in magical history from prying eyes. It was protected by innumerable layers of wards, gates, parapets, magical creatures, advanced magical technologies and a large army of specially trained Custodians. The very walls of the place housed ancient and terrible magic, most of which is only vaguely understood by those that called this vast complex home. There was no set design, each area being different from the last. One section of tunnels could be grimy dank tunnels, long forgotten by the inhabitants and others were places of unrivalled splendour, consisting of arching domes, golden pillars and intricate artworks. The sheer value of the items within could not be imagined by humans and would drive many mad if they were to attempt to calculate it. It was in this place that dwell some of the most dangerous people alive who's soul job it was to watch over the world and eradicate any threat by whatever means necessary.

The first and last line of defence against these threats were the Inquisitors. Men and women of unrivalled valour, skill and authority. Each Inquisitor is a master of magic, having been trained for years to utilize their potential to it's fullest. It was their duty to watch for any sign of corruption and rip it out before it can spread any further. Their word is law, recognised by all governments, be it human or non-human, magical or Muggle. They answer only to their Lords within the Inquisition for they are exempt from persecution from the world's political leaders simply because of the magnitude of the delicate issues they deal with and the dangerous knowledge they possess.

One such Inquisitor was Alizabeth Bequin. After being found to possess an incredible grasp of magic, coupled with a sharp mind, she was brought to the Inquisition's notice by her future teacher, Gregor Eisenhorn. A girl of noble upbringing, Alizabeth was processed and subsequently enrolled into the Schola Progenium; the academy where all agents of the Inquisition are taught. She stayed there until the age of seventeen when she left to continue studying under Inquisitor Eisenhorn for a few years until she gained the rank of Inquisitor at age twenty-two. Over the years she had lead famous investigations such as the Proctor incident and the Black Hand uprisings. She had always been a more humane, subtle Inquisitor, preferring to use diplomacy and stealth to complete her objectives instead of flaunting her power like most other heavy handed Inquisitors.

It was thoughts like these that ran through the mind of Lord Inquisitor Phlebas Allesandro Rorken. The venerable senior Inquisitor was a man well into his one-hundreds but still as deadly as when he was young. Clad in simple red and black robes, the Lord Inquisitor chose to forgo the extravagant garb others of his position liked to parade around in, with his golden 'I' shaped signet ring of office on his right ring finger. His head was shaved completely bald, save for the white goatee around his mouth.

His eyes seemed to bore into Bequin and although she had never gotten over the bout of nerves that would erupt in her when she was in the aged warrior's presence, she didn't let it show. Rorken threaded his fingers before him and locked eyes with Alizabeth.

"You wish to take young Potter on as your student?" His voice seemed to carry throughout the cathedral-like chamber, which was empty save for them.

"I do, my lord." She replied.

"Any particular reason why young Mr Potter has piqued your interest?"

"Sir, while I was battling the Dark Wizard Solomon Lok, I was injured and disarmed. Lok had been surrounded by a powerful shield at the time and when he was just about to kill me, Harry accidentally got his attention. Thinking he was a Muggle, Lok prepared to kill him and despite being afraid and confused, Harry had the right intuition to get out of the way, avoiding the attack."

"So the boy had sharp reflexes and listens to his gut. This doesn't seem like much incentive to train him as an Inquisitor." Rorken stated.

"No, my Lord, it isn't." Alizabeth agreed. "But Harry was injured by Lok and when he was about to cast a Dismembering curse, Harry struck out with a wave of powerful magic, completely blasting through Lok's shields and threw him back several meters allowing me to retrieve my wand and capture him."

Rorken arched an eyebrow. Power like that at such a young age was rare. If that power was harnessed and focused, then the boy could become quite the adversary. "That does provide a reason for his training." Rorken conceded. "But what are your plans for the boy, considering I let you go ahead with this?"

Luckily Alizabeth had been thinking about that all the way back to headquarters. "Sir, I realise I can't just have him signed to me as my Interrogator immediately and even if I could I would not. He would gain a far more rounded education if he were enrolled into the Schola Progenium, at least for a few years. It would also give him the chance to meet others his age and develop much needed social skills which would help him greatly in the field. I propose that when he is ready he be transferred to my staff as my official Interrogator. After a few years I am certain that he will become a fine Inquisitor under your command."

Rorken's mouth twitched slightly, a small sign of a smirk. "You've become quite attached to him in such a short time, Alizabeth."

The Inquisitor blushed also imperceptibly. "I think he has rare potential, sir." She said weakly.

Rorken chucked. "Of that I'm sure."

Soon after Harry was enrolled into the Schola Progenium to begin his education. The first few months had served as an induction to magic and allowed the students to learn more about who and what they were. Most of the work had been bookwork, something that Harry wasn't too keen on but knew he had to learn. Failure or refusal to study resulted in harsh punishments ranging from cleaning the classroom with a toothbrush to running laps through the many miles of tunnels. It was three months after he began the Schola that they moved onto the more interesting classes.

They had been divided up into different groups. These groups decided what you would train to be. Many of the boys were chosen to join the Custodies guards and many of the girls were chosen for the Healer training although there was diversity. After further dividing and sending people off to be trained as things like linguists, tactics officers, decoders, and the such they finally came to the group everyone aimed for. The Inquisitor trainees. Only ten pupils out of a class of four-hundred were chosen, and Harry thanked his lucky stars that he was one of those few.

Soon enough Harry learned that training to become an Inquisitor would probably be one of his toughest challenges yet. The workload increased tenfold, with essays being issued on all topics from history to ancient languages and Inquisitorial mandate. Alongside this was the combat training, the diplomacy training, the Occlumency and Legillimency training and many more classes that he didn't even want to think about. At the end of each day they would have to use their non-existent energy to stay up and finish essays or memorise the Inquisitorial laws before going to sleep and starting the whole thing over again.

Despite the stressful workload Harry excelled in his studies. He accelerated beyond his group's level of work fast and was taking assignments designed for students several years his senior. His combat marks were phenomenal and his magical control and power were through the roof. He wasn't quite Inquisitor level yet but he was quickly getting there.

It was at the age of ten when things changed. Alizabeth, who he had kept in close contact with over the years, entered the training hall one day and spoke to the instructor. When she was finished she walked over to where he was doing push-ups and told him to follow her. Confused, he did as he was told and before long they found themselves in the Schola Head Inquisitor's office. It was a surprise for Harry to discover that instead of being punished for some kind of slight like he was expecting he was to be immediately transferred to Alizabeth's staff as her Interrogator which meant he was her official apprentice. Struck dumb with shock he could only nod numbly as he was told to collect his things from the dorms.

Like most Inquisitors, Alizabeth owned a large manor outside of the Conclave among the hills of Italy. She moved Harry into one of the spare bedrooms and immediately set about introducing him to the rest of the team. Harry got along well with most of them, especially Midas and began to feel quite at home with the Inquisitor's warband. Alizabeth immediately took over his training, coaching him in the ways of an Inquisitor. The Schola only taught them what an Inquisitor's duty was but Bequin taught him how to get the job done. She had explained that being an Inquisitor was one of the dirtiest jobs there was and as such one must know how to play the game. She began taking him with her on missions, even going so far as to assign important tasks to him as a learning experience. Together they travelled all over the planet in pursuit of her investigations, capturing dangerous enemies and discovering fascinating secrets of old magic. Harry loved every minute of it.

It was a bittersweet celebration when a few days after Harry's fifteenth birthday he was called to the Conclave to stand before Lord Rorken, Alizabeth and two other Inquisitors that Harry knew from previous missions. Harry's jaw hit the floor when Lord Rorken told him that Alizabeth had put his name forward for full Inquisitorial status; a feat almost unheard of for someone of his age. Alizabeth gave her nomination without hesitation, smiling at her pupil in pride as the other two Inquisitors mirrored her words. Rorken nodded in acceptance before adding his own nomination, completing the required number of votes and told Harry to stand before him, something the young boy did with little hesitance. Reverently, Rorken presented him with a rectangular box made of dark obsidian, the 'I' symbol of the Inquisition engraved onto the lid. Harry pressed his thumb to the grinning winged skull at the centre of the 'I' and winced as he felt something pierce his skin, taking a sample of his blood.

The box whirred quietly for a moment before something clicked and the lid was lifted away too reveal a satin lined interior holding two objects.

The first was the signet ring all Inquisitors received at the completion of their training. It was pure silver with the 'I' symbol sitting on the band. Harry reverently placed it onto his right ring finger and watched for a moment as it reflected the light before reaching for the second, far more important object.

With slightly shaking hand he lifted it out of the box. It was his Inquisitorial Rosette, an Inquisitor's badge of office. It was a decent sized red obsidian 'I' with a band of silver going around the edge. It was made to be either hung around the neck by a chain, pinned to clothing or placed inside a wallet as a badge. He hung the chain around his neck before bowing low to Lord Rorken.

After nearly two hours being briefed concerning his new role Harry and Alizabeth returned to the Manor, where the rest of the team had set up a surprise party in honour of the occasion. The evening was filled with fun, laughter, drinking and even some tears as they realised that their little Harry was growing up.

It was exactly one week later when Harry left for his very first mission as an Inquisitor. He was headed for Egypt where a cult was kidnapping residents of a small town and sacrificing them to their heathen god. Harry successfully led a squad of Egyptian Aurors in a raid against the cult's compound, capturing many of the cultists and freeing quite a few captured villagers. The mission was deemed a success and Harry moved onto his next case but always remembered to keep in touch with his old teacher, staying at the Manor until he had enough for his own place.

Harry continued hunting Dark Wizards, his reputation growing at a steady pace as the youngest Inquisitor in five-hundred years proved his worthiness of the title. It was nearly one year to the day when Harry received a mission that would change his life forever.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sighed as he left the conference. He had been called away to a gathering of the International Confederation of Wizards in Belgium to fulfil his role of Supreme Mugwump. As if his schedule weren't full enough, what with running the school, dealing with the Ministry and combating the recent resurrection of Voldemort. Tom and his Death Eaters had finally declared war against magical Britain after almost a year in hiding and were causing terror on a daily basis. Things were going back to how they were sixteen years ago before Voldemort's supposed death at the hands of young Harry Potter.

That gave him pause. Harry, son of James Potter and Lily Evans, deemed the Boy-Who-Lived had been the one to end a war that had taken the lives of many good Witches and Wizards, almost destroying an entire generation. He had placed the young child with Lily's sister Petunia and her family for the single reason that Lily's sacrifice, born out of love for her son, enabled him to create powerful Blood Wards that would protect Harry from any of Tom's old supporters who had slipped through the net at the end of the last war. It had been on a night twelve years before that the instruments that monitored the wards told him something highly disturbing. The wards had fallen, something that shouldn't have been possible. He immediately rushed to the Dursley residence and confronted Petunia about her nephew's whereabouts only to be shocked at the callous and spiteful way she and her husband talked of the child. When he finally got the full story, it turned out that Harry had left the house one night and just never came back. Since the Dursleys said he hadn't taken any of his belongings it was doubtful that Harry ran away. He Flooed straight to the Ministry to assemble a search party to locate the child. The new Minister Cornelius Fudge was not amused. He berated Dumbledore for loosing the boy, saying that he should have been put with a respectable Wizarding family or left in the care of the Ministry, not left with a family of Muggles. Feeling frustrated, Dumbledore cut him off, saying that he was going to joining the search and swept out of the office leaving a fuming Minister for Magic in his wake.

Unfortunately the search turned up nothing and Harry, despite Dumbledore's objections, was declared dead. It was terrible. There was mass mourning in the streets, small shrines dedicated to the boy on nearly every street corner, a huge funeral and a wing of St. Mungo's was even called the Harry Potter Ward, opened a week after he was declared dead. Incidentally the day Harry 'died' was declared a national day of mourning. A few days later, Fudge (Quietly as to not suffer any political backlash) tried unsuccessfully to have the Potter vaults at Gringotts absorbed into the Ministry coffers. The Goblins refused outright, saying that there was no proof that Mr Potter was dead and that even if he was it would be against their laws to just hand over the Potter vaults. Fudge left the bank in a rage.

Dumbledore sighed as he continued on his way. He needed to get back to Britain soon. The war was heating up and he didn't doubt for a moment that Tom would try to attack the school if he was away for too long. He was just about to leave the conference building when he heard something that definitely piqued his interest.

"…said that he was just finishing up an investigation in Russia. Heard it was brutal."

"Yes but I wouldn't worry too much. Brother Potter may be young but he's very skilled."

Albus came to a screeching halt. He couldn't believe his ears. He had definitely heard the name Potter. There was a small chance but in this time of desperation he dared to hope. When he turned and saw who it was that was talking, his hope grew. Two Inquisitors stood near one of the large pillars at the front of the conference building. It wasn't unusual to see members of the Inquisition in attendance at these meetings as they liked to keep on top of the current political winds. Making up his mind Dumbledore changed course, heading straight for the two men.

"Excuse me, Inquisitors, but may I have a word?"

The men turned to see the Supreme Mugwump striding towards them. Glancing at each other they shrugged. "Of course, Lord Dumbledore." One man said, his long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

Dumbledore nodded his thanks. "Thank you. I just couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I wondered if I could ask you a few questions?"

The second man, this one with short brown hair, shrugged. "I suppose so."

Feeling no need to beat around the bush, Albus jumped right in. "I was wondering, the one you were talking about? Did you say his name was Potter?"

The two nodded and Albus felt his excitement quicken. "And by any chance, is this person's first name Harry?"

When they nodded a second time Dumbledore felt a flood of relief and hope invade his body. Suddenly the future looked a whole lot brighter. Getting back to the matter at hand, Dumbledore spoke to the two Inquisitors. "Gentlemen if I could borrow some of your precious time, could I perhaps ask you of what you know about Mr Potter?"

The two Inquisitors exchanged glances. Normally such a request would be met with outright refusal and the Inquisition would be informed that the person was looking for info about one of their agents but as Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore had a responsibility to help govern the magical world, just like the Inquisition and as such he kept a close relationship with the Inquisitor Lords and was kept apprised of sensitive information that would usually be restricted to the Lord Inquisitors and a few higher ranking agents. While he technically didn't outrank them, he still held a respected position. Besides he could always get the Information from one of their Lords. Finding no reason not to, the men began telling Dumbledore what they knew of Inquisitor Potter.

Harry Potter was bored.

It wasn't unusual. He was often bored when he had nothing to do. Whenever he could he'd be either heading an investigation, training, reading one of his more interesting books or going to visit Alizabeth and the old team. Sadly none of those were an option.

He'd been in his Manor winding down from his latest mission, a real bloodbath, when he had received a summons from the Conclave. This wasn't unusual, he received them tons of times before but what made this one special was the seal it bore. It was the personal seal of his boss, Lord Rorken. Quickly, he threw on his best clothes, gathered his newly polished equipment and ran to the Floo. One couldn't be scruffy and tardy when meeting a lord of the Inquisition after all, it just wasn't done.

After taking his private Floo back to the Conclave, Harry strode purposely towards the audience chamber. With the nerves he was feeling he wanted to run as to not be late but all that would accomplish would be him showing up out of breath after making a spectacle of himself. Like his former mistress Harry had never gotten used to being in Rorken's presence. Back in the Schola, Rorken had been a legend and meeting him in person was nerve wracking. Harry nodded to the Custodian guards and waited as the large doors to the audience chamber where opened.

The chamber was very lavish. The floors were covered by a plush crimson and gold carpet and the walls were of smooth marble detailed frescos depicting memorable moments from the Order's history taking up large sections of wall space. All around the room, display cases held priceless artefacts, both beautiful and dangerous. At the far end, sat on a large throne, was Lord Rorken himself, patiently awaiting Harry's arrival. Pushing down his nervousness, Harry strode forward.

Rorken looked up and smiled slightly as he saw his youngest Inquisitor coming towards him. "Ah, Brother Potter, you made good time."

Harry nodded back. "I left as soon as I received your summons, my Lord. It said that there were important issues to be discussed and I felt that punctuality was key."

Rorken nodded in agreement. "It is, brother. I have called you here to give you your next assignment."

Harry's eyebrows arched. Receiving a mission from Lord Rorken, while not rare, was definitely a surprise. Normally Inquisitors pursued their own investigations, then reported the findings to their Lord before storing the mission report in the archives. When a Lord Inquisitor issued a mission, it usually meant something. "A mission, my lord?"

"Indeed. I suppose you've heard of the situation in Britain?"

Harry nodded. Everyone knew of the situation in Britain. With the rise of a Dark Lord, one who he supposedly killed fifteen years ago, it was obvious that the Inquisition would hear of it. Unfortunately most Inquisitors were on assignment and so the Order hadn't been able to give the issue the attention it deserved.

Rorken continued. "Well, the Order feels that the situation has been ignored for far too long and as such has decided to act. A former associate of mine has contacted me with hopes that I can lend some assistance to help combat the Dark Wizards who are terrorizing the country. With your…personal connection to the case I feel it would be best to assign this task to you."

Harry nodded. He knew that he'd eventually be connected to this case in some way given his background. In all honesty, he could have taken up the case long ago but he didn't for reasons known only to himself. "So what is the assignment?" Harry asked. "Collaborate with the British Ministry to fight the Death Eaters while actively hunting for Riddle?"

Rorken nodded and threaded his fingers. "That is part of it but not the main focus of your duties."

"My Lord?" Harry asked, confused.

"My associate has asked that you be assigned to his school as a protector and also to take up a teaching post to teach students how to defend themselves. I believe you've heard of my associate; Albus Dumbledore?"

Harry's face tightened only very slightly but Rorken's sharp eyes caught it. "You object?" The senior Inquisitor queried.

Harry shook his head but when he spoke his tone was cool. "No, my lord, I would never refuse an assignment but I feel I must question my duties. Inquisitors are hunters not teachers."

Rorken smirked. "I had assumed that given your intelligence you would have been more accepting of the role."

Harry's neutral expression didn't change. "I mean no disrespect, my lord, but I don't see how I can successfully teach these children anything. Forget the fact that most of what I know about combat is highly restricted and in some cases illegal spells but the students would be as old and in some cases older than I am. They would not listen to me."

Rorken consented. "They may not listen to Harry Potter the teacher, but they will listen to Harry Potter the Inquisitor."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean for me to reveal myself to them?"

Rorken nodded. "I know that you prefer to work in the shadows but Albus has implored me to ask you to reveal your identity and rank to the Wizarding population of Britain."

Harry very nearly let his jaw drop. "But, my lord, you know how they feel about me over there! The second they know who I am my picture will be all over the papers and my future investigations could be put in jeopardy."

Rorken waved away his concerns. "That's easily taken care of by a Censorship Charm so only people who've met you will know who you are and I know that you always use a disguise when going undercover so there is very little chance of someone recognising you on a mission."

Harry forced himself to be calm. It would not do for him to get angry at Lord Rorken especially considering the fact that the man could probably kill him with little effort and be well within his rights to do it. "My lord, I feel I must ask what this will accomplish. What good would ousting me to the British population do?"

"I asked Albus the same question. The short answer? Hope. You're a hero to them, a symbol that Riddle can be defeated and if they knew that you were joining the fight especially as an Inquisitor their moral would skyrocket. I know you don't like the idea and to be honest neither did I until Albus called in an old favour."

Seeing that Harry didn't understand, Rorken elaborated. "During the war with Grindelwald I was serving as a senior Inquisitor. I was leading an investigation near Luxembourg when my group came under attack by a large force of Grindelwald's followers. Since we were taken by surprise, we were quickly cut down, myself being injured quite severely by a Bone Breaking Curse. When I was about to be killed there was an explosion and suddenly Grindelwald's followers were being cut down by spell fire. I looked up and there was Albus Dumbledore taking down enemy Wizards left, right and centre. He ensured that I was taken away and healed while they rounded up the surviving Dark Wizards. Since he saved my life, I owed him a favour."

This time Harry's jaw really did drop. "He called in a Life Debt?" To demand such a thing from an Inquisitor of Rorken's standing was…

But Rorken shook his head negative. "No, Albus isn't one to force someone to do something against their wishes. He never declared a Life Debt but I still felt I owed him a favour and recently he called me on it. He asked that you give hope back to the hopeless."

"Become their poster boy you mean?" Harry grumped unhappily, acting his age for a rare moment.

Rorken chuckled. "In a nutshell? Yes. It has been decided you'll go to Britain in a few day and work with the Ministry and Albus to bring Riddle down and when term starts you'll take up the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. You'll still be under your own command but you have to protect the school and it's students at all costs."

Harry sighed. "I really must object the post, sir, I--"

Rorken held up a hand, cutting him off. "Enough, Brother Potter, it's already been decided. You'll hunt Riddle and his Death Eaters while teaching and protecting at Hogwarts where your true identity will be revealed. Understood?"

Harry sighed and nodded knowing that the conversation was over. He gave a respectful bow before turning on his heel and marching out of the chamber. He had a mission to prepare for.

A/N: There you go, my first Harry Potter fic. For you Eisenhorn fans out there, yes I've made Alizabeth an Inquisitor. I just feel that Gregor was too big of a shadow for Harry to step out from under, but Ravenor may make an appearance later on.