Raising a Little Hell (Patreon)

The Muggle world was very different from the one Albus Dumbledore had grown up next to.

He had thought it was safer, less dangerous, than the world of magic.  In fact, it held a bizarre mimicry of all of the hazards of his own world and none of the advantages that spells and potions brought.  Automobiles had been in their infancy the last time he had made any real study of the non-magical environs, airplanes had been little more than a fool’s dream, and firearms had been unreliable at their best.  Now, though…

Now, he could hardly believe the precisely printed pages before him.

Shootings, murders, accidents, and a myriad of other forms of death littered the newspaper, filling him with more and more dread over what kind of world he had left the young Potter to live in.  Finally, his misgivings were confirmed when he reached an article on the thirteenth page, obviously the reason Arabella Figg had sent him it in the first place.

A Family of three died late Thursday afternoon in tragic car crash.  Vernon and Petunia Dursley, with their six year old son Dudley were confirmed dead on arrival by a paramedics who arrived at the scene just minutes after the initial accident.  Initial reports suggest a failure of the gear shift mechanism which contributed to the collision…

There were more details, of course, but he hardly needed to know the intricacies of the family’s death or the causes therein.  All he needed to know was that the muggle world was infinitely more dangerous than he could have conceived of and that the Dursleys were anything but suitable guardians for any manner of child, much less the savior of the wizarding world.  When Arabella had told him of mistreatment, he had written it off to some level of exaggeration on either her or young Harry’s part.  Doubtless, it couldn’t possibly be that bad.

But it was.

The conditions the child was kept in were nothing short of criminal and brought a heavy sadness to the old man’s heart.  If he was his younger self, it would bring nothing short of a righteous wrath down on the first muggles he could find…but that was long ago and before he had learned the hard lesson that humans, no matter what breed, were more cruel and nefarious than any of the Ministry’s ‘dark creatures’ when they chose, at least.

Still, there was no one to blame but himself, at the moment.  He should have, in retrospect, looked into Minerva’s accusations instead of dismissing them.  He should have personally checked in on the boy…should have made sure of his welfare…should, should, should…

Now, though, he could make good on those regrets.  Harry would need placement in a new home, one where abuse would not be a worry.  Which home that would be still raised a host of questions…

He had briefly considered a wizarding family again, but dismissed the option almost out of hand.  Wizards, no matter the amount of time, held dearly to legends and mythos, especially when it came to heroes.  If Harry was to grow up in their society it would be a spoilt childhood that soured the young child against the hope and goodness that innocence breed.

No, it would have to be with muggles.

Nothing like the Dursleys, but perhaps a home familiar to magic?  Perhaps squibs, who could introduce Harry to magic, but shelter him from the negativity of fame?  Hmm…

But most squibs, like the particularly hateful muggles the Dursleys represented the resentment and fear that magic bred in some people.  No, he would need a very special family to take Harry Potter.  He would need an old family which was well-familiarized with the magical world.  The aging wizard leaned back in his chair, gazing off in the distance as he willed an idea to come to him.

Several old families had, sadly, descended into bloodlines that held nothing but squibs, which would be ideal for his purposes save one fact.

Protection.

Very few families which lost their magic maintained their lands, holdings, or the wards and charms which guarded them.  Not many of the younger generations stopped to think on it, but the manors, homes, and the very foundations of a wizard’s ancestral residence were rife with protection against mundane and magical attack.  Why he, himself, made regular visits to his family’s property to inspect the muggle-repellant charms at the very least.  Those same charms had been put there seven generations ago and had lasted through many turbulent times.  Why, even when his father had found out Albus’ aunt had married that Arthur Holmwood muggle-born had the house sheltered…

Albus stopped, his mind whirring with storied his uncle had told him as a child, reminiscing about his adventures with…with…Abraham Van Hellsing.  His mouth twitched as he recalled the novel that had been published on his stories, labeled as ‘fiction’ among the muggles.  It was a fame few knew of as belonging to the Dumbledore family, to have married one of the party to have killed the vampire Dracula.

During that battle, though, something had happened which Uncle Arthur had never spoken of.  It had been something so terrible that it had incurred a blood-debt between himself and the Van Hellsing family.  A debt that was then passed on to his family when Arthur had died childless…

A debt from the Van Hellsings, who had migrated to England shortly after the victory over Dracula.  The same Van Hellsings who produced a line of squibs that resided in London to this day on their ancestral holdings, with all of their traditions intact and were staunchly light-aligned to this very day!

Yes, the Hellsings, if he remembered correctly they had changed their name when moving from the continent, would be perfect!  They were a powerful family which stayed away from the light of the press of both the wizarding and muggle world, they were not ones for the wasting of wealth or the lavish spoiling of children.  No, if they were as he remembered, they harkened back to an older age of magic which emphasized dedication, self-discipline, and rigid self-control.  They had even produced the last great modern alchemist this world had seen since the rise of Nicholas Flamel.

Growing up in such a home could only be beneficial for young Harry.

Sir Richard Hellsing, current head of the Hellsing family, was a man of reason, action, and would have none of the nonsense that had dogged his family for hundreds of years.  During his headship, the manor had seen renovations on a massive scale which included electric lighting, central heat and cooling, and, in a few cases such as the dungeons and lower rooms, internal plumbing.  He was proud to have forged a new Hellsing, one that did not rely on the arcane arts of the Dark Ages, but stood firm on human ingenuity, the Protestant Church, Queen, and Country.

Sorcery had its place, of course, but ever since the end of the Second World War there had been less and less need for dredging up the older arts of the family.  Arts that, due to Integra’s complete lack on any magical prowess whatsoever, would die with his generation.

Or, he thought, as he looked the pale young child over, perhaps not.

Even at the few feet away he stood now, he could feel the bristling powerthat flowed around the child.  Part of it was the deep black magic that sparkled and flared from the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.  The rest of his body, though, was akin to searchlight of magical power to his own mere candle.  In its brilliant intensity it even managed to equal the flaring corona of eldritch might that the older man, graying beyond even his own years.

Richard Hellsing closed his eyes briefly against the onslaught of ambient magic as he shut down the part of his mind dedicated to awareness of the other world.  “Headmaster Dumbledore, I presume?”

The bearded wizard’s eyes twinkled and Richard brought down his Occulmency barriers.  If anything, that only intensified Albus’ obvious pleasure at meeting him.  “Sir Richard Hellsing, your reputation precedes you.  I take it that you received my letter?”

Richard nodded, at once acknowledging the fact and seeming distasteful of it.  Giving a pointed look to the preternaturally still child openly staring at them he asked, “I assume this is the boy?  He seems…distant.  Is he well?  I have no time for an invalid in my home.”

The stony façade of Harry’s face didn’t so much as twitch but the green eyes seemed to shift a shade, taking on a glimmer of…gold?  A blink later and the glimpse of whatever it was behind those eyes was gone again, leaving a child standing before him, no older than six and probably a bit younger.  “I am not an invalid, sir.  I will thank you not to refer to me as such.”

The head of the Hellsing family raised an eyebrow, “You’ve got a bit of a lip on you, if nothing else.  What makes you think I’ll open my home to an orphaned wretch such as yourself?”

Dumbledore frowned at his removal from the conversation, but was willing to let the youngest Potter prove himself.  After all, it hardly mattered in the larger picture.  Sir Hellsing would take the boy and raise him whether Dumbledore had to resort to bribe, threat, or force of magic.  It was, after all, for the greater good and this one muggle mattered very little in the grand scheme of things.

“I would rather you not agree,” Harry stated unflinchingly and rather well-spoken for his age.  “As I have told the Headmaster, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.  I can cook, clean, bathe myself, and do all tasks necessary to ensure that I will not die of another’s neglect.  If I absolutely must live with someone I would prefer it to be someone who does not care for me at all, but will not go out of his way to lash me, place hot brands on my skin, nor starve me.  All I want for is a place where I can be alone where I may think and study, can you give me that?”

Sir Richard blinked, “You do not want a father?  A mother?  Someone to care for you?”

There was something bleak and hopeless in Harry’s face that said more than words ever would, but he answered nevertheless.  “I honestly don’t know what I would do with them if I had them, sir.  The idea of anyone else having some say in my life, given the way it has gone so far, horrifies me.  I would rather have strangers take care of me if families show each other love in the manner which I have been shown love.”

There was a stretched silence wherein Albus Dumbledore’s heart broke into some many pieces.  It was perhaps that moment when the older wizard realized exactly how much harm his good intentions had done and, for a moment, he saw two other faces overshadowing Harry’s.  Both suddenly twisted into a horrifying mimicry of humanity and vanished like mist, leaving two dead green orbs staring back at him.  He realized shortly that some length of conversation had passed during his delusion and Harry was now speaking intently with Richard.

“…my daughter has no talent for magic.  If you were to swear an alliance with my family I would have little objection to teaching you the family arts.  It would make good preparation for Hogwarts and there would be a position in the organization after you graduate.”

Harry cocked his head in curiosity.  “More…magic,” He said somewhat distastefully and Richard suppressed a grin, “I want more traditional subjects…the sciences, literature, politics, history, mathematics.”

Albus blinked owlishly.  What use would a wizard have for those?

“Then you will take them with my daughter, Integra.”  Richard nodded.  “She is three years your senior I believe, but you should be able to keep up if your thirst for knowledge is so great.  I have hired only the best tutors for her and I will personally teach you alchemy and a few…other subjects.  Agreed?”

“If you truly want to try your hand at…raising me,” Harry said slowly, “I believe parents traditionally offer allowances?”

Richard barked out a laugh that startled both the wizards before he smiled widely at the young black-haired boy, clasping a hand on his shoulder, “Fine then, an allowance.  I shan’t think you’ll have much time for games and toys, though.”

“Then it’s agreed,” Albus interrupted, smiling in a grandfatherly manner.  “Harry will stay with you and your family Sir Hellsing.  I or one of my associates will be by monthly to check on the boy and familiarize him with the wizarding world with day-trips to Diagon Alley or other social areas for our kind.  Shall I leave you two to get acquainted, then?”

Harry refrained, admirably, from snorting as the aging wizard left him and his new…father.  When Dumbledore had arrived to take him he had almost killed the man outright for the absurdities he seemed to spew forth.  Really, wizards?  Spells?  Dragons, Unicorns, a school in a castle?

Magic?

It was an insane reality to come to grips with and the second time his world-view had taken a massive blow to the head.  Really, waking up in this…peacetime utopia of sleepwalking sheep was insulting enough to his ninja sensibilities that it had taken him years to become physically independent enough to kill those abusive pieces of shit!  The fact that they had dared to take such liberties with him was humiliating enough, but enduring five years of that shit had been the most dehumanizing experience of either life.

If there had ever been any doubt in his mind as to whether or not he would be able to bring his murderous mindset to full bore on this relaxed world…

Well, learning to rig a car’s breaks to give out at the proper time confirmed the necessity for a good shinobi in his new world.  Of course, his plan for the aftermath of the Dursleys’ deaths had to be rethought when that fool Dumbledore emerged from whatever hole he usual hid in.  Although, the strange events and the ‘dark wizard’ that killed the could explain the events that precipitated his…

Waking up?

At any rate, this new life with the Hellsings would at least be interesting, he supposed.  He could ‘play’ the good, studious child for a few years, benefit from their money and status, master the magical arts, get his body and skills up to an acceptable level, then move on to greater things.  After all, it wasn’t like being a part of a happy family would give him the tools he needed to carve out what he wanted from this world.

Upon returning to the Hellsing Compound, his opinion had started to shift.

He had also realized that the fool of a wizard Dumbledore knew absolutely nothing about the home he had left Harry in.  The man didn’t strike him as someone who would consider a paramilitary organization headed by a genocidal dynasty of vampire slayers a ‘proper’ home.  He almost cackled with joy at a fully functioning, well-trained militia.  It seemed a rarity in this day and age to have anything more than a gun and in England, an island country with stricter gun laws, eventhat was rare.

“I can see that an alliance with your family will entail significantly more than I suspected, at first,” Harry said quietly, watching a troop with guns roll out in armored personal carriers.  “You would want me to…hunt vampires?”

Richard nodded solemnly, unfeeling towards the derision that Harry had shown.  “If you were so inclined.  If you prove to be…lacking in the fortitude the organization needs in front-line soldiers, there are other places you could serve.  The house has magical protections that need servicing from time to time and if you prove to be talented enough it might fit your sensibilities more so.  The armory, the accounting firm, news-relations and disinformation, butler…there are many places you can serve the organization’s needs.  Depending on what manner of man you grow into, my daughter will need a husband to continue the family line.”

Harry processed the information silently, dismantling the man’s motivations with a mind far too intent for Richard to be truly comfortable with.  Still, there was family honor at stake and if he could harness the talent and raw power the boy represented…

Well, he already had one monster in the basement, he would hardly lose sleep over having another beast at Hellsing’s disposal.  Besides, he had years to make sure that the child was well-trained and knew his place.  Because, no matter how strange the child’s behavior, or how adult he seemed he was still a child, after all…

And no mere child would get the better of a Hellsing.

Integra Hellsing was not a stupid child.

She had been trained, since birth, to be the heir of the family legacy and take her place, eventually, as a peer of the realm.  To survive in the political atmosphere of modern Britain one had to maintain a certain vigilance, wariness, and all-around alertness as to their surroundings; as such, Integra intimately aware of the facts, both spoken and not, around the new boy who had appeared in the manor one day, just last week.

He was an orphan who had friends in high places and someone had twisted her father’s arm with an old debt to attain him a place in the well-protected Hellsing Manor.  He was obviously important, then, on some level, to have enemies that warranted this level of guarding.  He also had some trauma in his past as her father had warned her to be friendly to their new guest.

The boy was shorter than her, but then she was tall for her age so it hardly mattered.  She was relieved to observe that he was polite in dealing with the staff and soldiers when he needed to.  Then, there were the unspoken matters…

Harry’s, as she’d found his name to be, stance was guarded and his face closed.  In short order she became aware that he also knew of her seemingly discreet observations.  It became all the more strange, then, when he took to disappearing from under her gaze.  Honestly, she was beginning to suspect he was some kin of Walter’s to be able to vanish and reappear like he did.

Finally, she cornered, as much as one could corner Harry Potter, in the middle of breakfast at five a.m.  Normally it would have struck her as odd save for a few considerations such as the odd hours almost everyone at the manor kept and Harry’s particular brand of odd behavior.  As she approached him, she idly noted that the table was set for two even though he couldn’t have possibly been expecting…

“Please, sit.”

“Thank you, though I do not believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced.  “My name is Harold James Potter, but you may call me Harry when we are at leisure.  May I now inquire as to your name, Ms…?

“Miss Integra Windgates Hellsing,” The platinum blonde said imperiously.  “You may call me Integra when we are at leisure, Harry.  I was informed that you would be taking class with me beginning today.”

Harry nodded, resolving to treat the other child as that of a dignitary.  It wouldn’t do to irritate someone he would no doubt have to put up with for an extended time.  Taking that into consideration, he served her first, taking care to include the better fish, rice, and vegetables he had prepared.  “You are well-informed then, Integra.  Your father has made arrangements to that end, I believe.  Did you come to air any grievance on the matter?”

“Not as such, no.”  Integra stated, taking her time to observe proper manners.  “I came to acquaint myself with my new…classmate and ask if you would need any assistance to grasp the level of coursework we are deal with?”

“At this moment, I do not feel it necessary to take you up on your very generous offer,” Harry stated, completely sincere.  “Although I am curious as to you, Integra; I hope my stay with your family does not put you out unduly.”

Integra was caught off-guard for a moment, but only that.  Harry was…extremelywell-spoken for all that he was three years younger than herself.  As they talked, she began to get more and more convinced that Harry was marvelously unlike any of the other children she had spoken with heretofore.  He was politely, interesting, slightly mysterious and had none of the snooty, high-brow annoyances that the other royals children she had met exhibited.  In some ways he was more…real than anyone she had associated with before