Title: Of Eagle and Lion

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, or Luna, or Ginny, or Cho, or... I would buy them all but I am broke.

Summary: In an act of desperation, a young Harry Potter's magic goes wild and gives him something that will change everything.

Harry was running, but then it was unusual for him not to be running when he was not in class or in the cupboard under the stairs that was his bedroom. As per usual he was being chased by his cousin Dudley, a pig of a boy who scarcely seemed capable of chasing anyone, and Dudley's gang, who did most of the actual chasing. After seven years of running away from Dudley and the fat boy's gang, Harry had become rather good at it. Unfortunately this time the gang had split up, with two now rounding the corner in front of him and another two closed on his heels.

'If only I knew how to fight.' Harry thought desperately, knowing he was now trapped.

There is one thing to note about Harry Potter. Well, two things. One is that he had great survival instincts. Living with his relatives he never would have made it to age seven without those. The second, and more important in this particular instance, is that Harry Potter was a Wizard, not that he knew that.

Magic, by its very nature is a paradox. On one hand it is very primal and run by the subconscious, with basic need and intent being vital to the flow of magic, particularly in early childhood when the magical core of the Witch or Wizard has yet to stabilise. On the other it can provide very predicable results. If two Wizards both conjured a white rose, those roses would be identical, despite whatever intent or imagery the individual Wizard had in mind. Most Magicals overlooked this uniformity of result and in fact it was the Muggles who, in the early decades of the twenty-first century, would come up with the explanation for something the Wizards had been doing for centuries. Another interesting thing about magic is that it is often able to fill in the blanks from partial information or use things that the user was not consciously aware of.

The reason this is relevant is that as Harry Potter had his desperate thought, his magic sensed the danger and went wild. Sensing his need, and following the thread of a conversation between two boys nearby, that Harry himself had not registered give his predicament, Harry's magic broke through the blocks, both the natural ones Harry had developed unconsciously to control his core and the artificial ones that had been placed on him years before, and it made two changes that would have major ramifications. One was the appearance of a number of items in the cupboard under the stairs of number 4 Privet Drive. The other was within the mind of one Harry James Potter.

One second Harry was standing, panting, waiting for the inevitable beating, the next his entire posture had changed and he was on the move. Harry stepped towards the two closets goons, those who had rounded the corner, and grabbed one by his outstretched arm. A sharp jerk had him bent over in pain followed by a quick knee to the solar plexus and he was out of the fight, but Harry used him as a springboard to support his weight as he did a high, side kick to the second boy's nose, which broke with a satisfying crunch but did not push up into the boys brain due to the careful angle of the blow, and both goons collapsed to the ground as Harry turned to face the two charging goons.

These two boys were still running at Harry, what had happened to their compatriots had not yet registered, when Harry charged them. He slipped to the left of the fist goon and quickly snapped out a kick that connected with the boy's stomach, literally bending the boy over at the point of impact, which was quickly followed by a precision strike to the base of the neck. The next boy had his arms low, so Harry slipped behind him, using an arm to the upper body for stabilisation and stomped hard on the weak point at the back of the knee, causing the boy fall in pain and unable to get up with his now unresponsive leg.

Then Dudley rounded the far corner. In a matter of seconds Harry had disabled four boys who were all larger than him by a significant margin. Dudley was not the smartest tool in the shed, but even he realised that Harry had ripped through his gang, and did the only thing his brain could think of. Run away from Harry and to his father to tell him that the 'Boy' had done something weird.

Harry was locked into the cupboard under the stairs the moment he got back to 4 Privet Drive, and seeing as it was Friday, he fully expected to spend the entire weekend in the cupboard. Having flicked on the naked overhead bulb, Harry surveyed the cupboard. When considered carefully, it was still a tiny space but for a cupboard under the stairs it was quite large. It ran lengthways the entire length of the strait stairs, probably close to four meters, and there was no divider to smooth out the stairs, which made for some sharp corners but provided a decent overhead space for most of the room, and a nice little alcove at the lower end for his bed.

The one unusual feature of the cupboard was that it was actually wider than the stairs above were, by about 6 inches. Not a lot of space but every millimetre helped. Apart from the blankets at the smallest end of the room, the only items in the room were a large trunk, just small enough to fit through the cupboard door and be able to be moved around but large enough to hold a significant amount, and a large duffle bag.

Both the trunk and the duffle had the same thing stencilled on the side. "Cadian 122nd I.R." on the first line and a sixteen digit serial number underneath. Harry smiled as he walked over and opened the trunk. In the top of the trunk was a tray, about six inches deep. It held mostly clothes, tan pants, tan shirts, undergarments, two pair of tan boots (lying on their side), and in a small section two small metal items. The first was a set of dog tags, witch had the same serial number as on the trunk imprinted on one side and the image of a winged skull on the other. The second item was also on a chain to go around his neck, but it was a small, golden two headed eagle, one head facing forward and the other backwards, with its wings outstretched.

"Oh thank the Emperor." Harry whispered when he saw the golden Aquila.

He sighed with relief when he put both the dog tags and the Aquila around his neck.

With the icon of his new faith in place and knowing that he would be stuck in the cupboard all weekend, Harry took a high energy ration pack from the trunk and began to eat. Once the food settled he began a confined space work out developed over a long time by Guardsmen in the confines of the Imperial Troop Carriers during Warp transit. After all, one could not fight the enemies of the Emperor, and humanity, in the Imperial Guard if one was not fit.

Monday had come and Harry was sitting in his first period classroom waiting patiently for school to start. He had jogged the entire way to school, thus making him one of the first to arrive. The door to the class opened and two students entered. The boy made his way to the back of the classroom and sat sullenly in his chair, the girl stood looking at Harry for a moment then made her way over to him. She was not one of the popular girls, with dark rusty brown hair and pail blue eyes, she always seemed to fade into the crowd.

"Good morning." She said. "Mary Saxon."

"Harry Potter." He replied, curious as to why she was talking to him.

"I saw what you did on Friday." She said. "With Dudley and his gang."

"And?" Harry replied cautiously, mentally raising his guard.

"Oh!" Mary replied, realising how her comment could have been taken. "I'm not going to tell on you or anything. They don't like me either. I just wanted to know how you beat them up… which was brilliant by the way."

"The Emperor protects." Harry replied.

Mary grabbed the chair from the table next to Harry and turned it to face him before sitting down.

"Who is the Emperor? Is he related to the Queen?" she asked, with the curiosity only a child can achieve.

"The Emperor is the guardian and spiritual protector of humanity, entombed in the Golden Throne of Terra after he was betrayed by his favoured son Horus. It is by his will alone that we are protected from the Deamons and forces of Chaos." Harry replied. "It is every human's duty to honour and serve in his name."

"Tell me more." Mary whispered when he paused.

But by this time most of the rest of the class had arrived and the door opened to admit the teacher.

"Meet me this afternoon." Harry said.

"Okay." Mary replied before heading to her usual desk.

'Looks like we have a potential convert.' Harry thought before paying attention to the teacher.

A small part of Harry's mind realised that he was dreaming, but as was the nature of dreams that realisation did not change anything. What was of concern to Harry was that these were more that simple dreams… they were memories. And they were not the memories of Harry James Potter. They were the memories of Sergeant Marcus William Blackstone of Cadia. Or more accurately snippets of the Sergeant's memories.

*FLASH*

Standing in ranks on the first day of Whiteshield Conscript training at age Sixteen. The two thousand new trainees in his Whiteshield Company standing at attention, only one of thousands of new Whiteshield Companies being formed on that day. Looking out the corner of his eye at the sixteen year old Brown haired girl standing next to him. Cadia was a Fortress World, everyone was conscripted into the Whiteshields at age sixteen and then into either a Planetary Defence Force or Imperial Guard Regiment at age Eighteen. As the old saying went, 'Any Cadian who can't field-strip his own Lasgun by the age of ten was born on the wrong planet'.

*FLASH*

Lying in his bunk, a simple trooper, in the troop transport as they boosted away from Cadia. The Cadian 122nd Infantry Regiment had been Re-Founded, an old and solid Regiment with fine traditions. It did not have the glory of some of the other Regiments, like the 8th 'The Lord Castellan's Own', but the 'Guardians' Regiment had always been one of the most dependable. The rest of his squad was puttering around the barracks, the Sergeant over at the small desk by the door. Only two of the members of his Whiteshield Company were in his squad, and he only knew one of them. Magritte, the girl he had stood next to on the first day of training, who had been in his Whiteshield squad, who had been a fast and firm friend. Who was right now emerging from the showers, dressed only in a towel.

*FLASH*

He squeezed the trigger and another Greenskin went down, only to get back up a second later and the fall again, this time for good, as his second shot went through the Orc's eye and into its brain. He quickly stepped down off the defensive embankment's firing step to avoid the hale of inaccurate but still potentially deadly return fire from the Greenskins. In a smooth motion he ejected the spent power cell and slapped a new one into the Lasgun. The heavy sound of the Autocannon and Heavy Bolter emplacements opened up, chewing into the charging ranks of Greenskins. He stepped back up and began firing at the oncoming horde. Aim and squeeze. Aim and squeeze. Then suddenly the charging Orcs were gone, most of them dead but a few running back to their own lines.

Five years of constant war against the Greenskins had taught all of the 122nd valuable lessons on how to fight the Greenskins, those that had survived. First lesson learnt, the Orcs would be back.

Magritte checked her Lasgun as she settled down close beside him. The lull continued for a brief period as the 122nd and the Elysian 73rd, who we also assigned to this stretch of trench, began to relax. The he heard it. A 'Snickt' sound. A millisecond later the sound registered.

"Kommandos!" he shouted. (AN: no, that is not a spelling mistake)

By that time the knife had already left the bushes and was rotating end over end until…

Harry awoke with a start, almost sitting up and slamming his head against the ceiling of his low sleeping alcove. After almost three and a half years, the nightmares of Marcus' life still haunted Harry, although not as frequently as they once had. Ironically it was Marcus' unwavering Faith in the Emperor and the Imperial Saints, primarily Saint Sabbat, which had allowed Harry to deal with the psychological damage.

There had also been some positive physical changes thanks to the Imperial Guard training. Harry was no longer a small, skinny boy who looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. He was not a hulking boy with masses of muscles either. He was a good two inches taller than he would have been and had a lean but well defined physique of one with a body trained to optimum efficiency.

Laying back down on his bedroll, Harry tried to get to sleep. There were only a few days until the end of School and his eleventh birthday was also approaching.

Harry sat on the teacher's desk in the classroom. School had finished almost an hour ago but Harry and a small group stayed behind.

"By the grace of the Emperor." Harry said, finishing the Imperial Pray.

"By the grace of the Emperor." The others in the room echoed.

There were seven others besides Harry in the room, all now Imperialists. First, foremost and most devout was the former wallflower Mary Saxon, who had arranged for her Goldsmith uncle to make Imperial Aquila pendants for the entire group. Sitting in the back corner of the room there were also two Cheerleaders and the Soccer Captain from the attached high school. Sitting off to one side, in front of the older teens, was a thirteen year old boy, who's older sister was one of the Cheerleaders, who had stumbled into one of the meetings once and stayed, eventually convincing his sister and her cheerleader friend to join. The fourth grade English teacher sat on the other side of the room to the teens, constantly fiddling with his Aquila pendant. The last member present was Mary's younger brother, only nine years old, who sat with his sister. There was another Imperial Convert, but they had transferred out to another school the year before.

"I have an announcement." Harry said as everyone settled from the prayer. "Come the new school year, I will be transferred to another school. Stonewall apparently."

Everyone muttered, unhappy at that announcement.

"Quiet. In my absence, I have decided that the congregation needs a new leader. I hereby appoint Mary Saxon to be Confessor of the Ecclesiarch." Harry announced.

Mary sat shocked until her baby brother gave her a nudge.

"If I'm a Confessor, what does that make you? Cardinal?" She asked as got her hand shaken by Harry and then they both made the sign of the Aquila.

"Hardly. I am, and will always be, Guard." He replied. "Think you up for a sermon, Confessor?"

"Boy, breakfast." Vernon called, a nervous edge in his voice.

Harry finished the close order drill with the Lasgun in the backyard of number 4, before wiping himself down with a towel and heading inside. Harry was dressed in tan cargo pants and a light green tank top with boots on, as he walked in and leant the unloaded Lasgun, which was almost as tall as he was, against the wall and sat down for breakfast. His relatives, particularly Vernon and Dudley, had large portions of bacon, eggs, mushrooms and toast for breakfast. Harry's breakfast, buy his own wishes, was more balanced and nutritional, including fruits, cereal and juice.

Things had changed when Harry was nine. Vernon and Dudley had pushed him to far one day and he had introduced them to his Guard issued Bayonet. No one had been hurt, which was quite a show of skill on Harry's part as he demonstrated the proper procedure for skinning game using Vernon's shirt as an example… while his Uncle had been wearing it. Now, though he was not treated like a member of the family, he was no longer locked in the Cupboard for long stretches nor physically bullied.

Harry ate in silence, while his relatives made small talk amongst themselves, ignoring his presence. As he was finishing Harry heard the mail come through the mail slot. He rose, put his dishes in the sink, collected his Lasgun and left the kitchen. After storing the Lasgun, he checked them mail.

"Bill. Bill. Oh, sale on Hiking boots. Bill." Harry said idly as he walked back to the kitchen with the mail. "Vernon. Bill. Petunia. Dudley's grades. My grades. Oh, one for me. What the Emperor is Hogwarts?"

TBC…