November 1, 1988 — London, Under a Weeping Sky

  A cold drizzle cast its silver veil over the London streets. Each raindrop that struck the pavement seemed to carry with it a muffled sob, as if the weather itself mourned some unspoken tragedy. The time was just after midnight, and the mps along the sidewalks struggled to pierce through the gloom, their pale light stretching thin across the asphalt and brick. The city's heart was still beating, though quietly: an occasional car rolled by, the distant thrum of an engine echoing down alleys. The world was drowsy, yet not asleep, and in this bordernd between te night and early dawn, strange things could happen unnoticed.

  For Harry Potter, life had been an unbroken chain of such strangeness and sorrow since infancy. Now eight years old, he stood huddled beneath the overhang of an abandoned shop front, drenched to the bone. He wore clothes that were far too rge for his fragile frame—cast-off garments that draped over him like a sack and offered no warmth. His thin arms clutched his sides, trying in vain to lock in some sembnce of heat. The boy's jet-bck hair, wild and unruly, was pstered to his forehead by the rain, revealing a faint lightning-bolt scar. Though this mark stood out to some as curious, to Harry it had always been simply a part of him—one that he had learned not to speak about, for fear of the Dursleys' wrath.

  He was alone now, completely and utterly, having just been thrown onto the streets of London as easily as one might discard old rubbish. The Dursleys, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, had grown tired of him, had fumed and spat and seethed at his presence in their meticulously normal lives. They'd done this for years, punishing him for his very existence, making him a servant in their house, beating him down both in spirit and body, hoping to crush any spark of individuality or hope he might have held. Until this night, they had at least tolerated his presence, if only so they could keep him under their heel. But something had changed. Perhaps Harry had grown just a fraction too tall, his green eyes shining a bit too defiantly one morning when Uncle Vernon screeched at him to fetch the paper. Or perhaps, in the dark corners of their petty minds, they knew that something about Harry was not natural—and they feared it. It didn't matter. They had piled him into the car on a rainy night, driven deep into the city, and shoved him out into the rain, peeling away without a backward gnce.

  So now Harry stood, shaking, hollow, and soaked. The city's lights blurred in his vision—he was hungry, exhausted, and confused beyond measure. He was supposed to call this pce home? This endless ndscape of wet pavement, cold wind, and gring neon signs that buzzed unkindly? A small whimper escaped his chapped lips. He had no one. No family, no friends. Not even the faint comfort of a cupboard under the stairs. He was free of the Dursleys, perhaps, but this was freedom that tasted like despair.

  Above him, the rain intensified. Harry leaned further back into the recessed doorway of the abandoned shop, its gss long boarded up, and tried to curl himself into a smaller target for the wind's merciless chill. He closed his eyes. He needed to think, needed to do something. He knew nothing of London. He knew only of Privet Drive, of chores and punishments, of whispered curses from his aunt and uncle. He had heard of the greater world but had never seen it with his own eyes like this.

  He tried to calm himself. If he could just sleep a little, maybe the morning sun would bring some kind of crity. He could find a policeman, perhaps, or a shelter of some sort. But the rain wouldn't let up, and the coldness in his bones refused to let him drift off. He had to move. Had to find somewhere better than this. Harry stepped back out into the rain, blinking water away as best he could, and started walking.

  He passed closed shops, empty cafes, and silent offices. Each step spshed through shallow puddles. The sound of distant sirens drifted through the gloom, and Harry instinctively shrank back into himself, fear coiling in his stomach. He learned long ago that when adults raised their voices, trouble followed. He had no reason to expect kindness from strangers.

  Yet, as he walked, he felt something else—something beyond the ache of his feet and the sting in his eyes. It was a sensation he could not name, a subtle shift in the air around him. In the darkest corners of these streets, something watched. Something not quite human. It watched from a vantage point that defied logic, lurking in shadows that normal people would pass by without a second gnce. It was not the Dursleys, not any ordinary human. It was something far older, far more dangerous, and infinitely more curious.

  In a quiet street just off the main thoroughfare, Alucard stood beneath a wrought-iron mppost, his tall, imposing form masked by the gloom. He wore his crimson coat and a broad, floppy hat that shielded his eyes from mortal sight. To any passerby, he might seem like a strange drifter or a piece of moving darkness. But no casual passerby walked these streets at this hour, and so he remained unobserved.

  Alucard had been restless tonight. Servitude to the Hellsing Organization was never dull, but even a vampire of his standing grew weary of endless nights without meaningful prey. The boredom was the main reason he had ventured into the city—Sir Integra had allowed him some leash, trusting that he would not stir unnecessary chaos. He often prowled like this, not always to feed, but to remember what it felt like to walk among the mortals who knew nothing of the wars in the shadows.

  This evening had seemed like any other drizzle-soaked London night, at least until he felt a prickling on the edge of his senses. Magic. Old, innate magic. It flowed through the air, subtle and unrefined. It tasted of something pure, yet bruised and battered. Alucard had known many supernatural creatures in his long existence—vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and ghouls—but wizard-kind had always stood apart. They were mortal, but unlike their mundane brethren, they could bend reality to their will, if trained. He rarely encountered them, and typically he cared little for their affairs. Their petty struggles were beneath him. Yet this was different. This power felt nascent and desperate, shining through the darkness like a candle in a storm.

  He moved silently, drifting along the edge of a building, guided by scent and instinct. The rain did not bother him, nor the cold. He found himself drawn to a small figure trudging through puddles—an underfed, frightened child with startling green eyes. The boy's magic was raw and disorganized, sparking around him like static electricity. Even from a distance, Alucard could sense the suffering etched into the child's bones. His posture, the bruises visible even in this dim light, the trembling in his limbs—all painted a tragic picture.

  What is this? Alucard wondered as he stepped lightly onto the deserted street behind the boy. He could sense no guardian lurking nearby, no family member hovering at the margins. The child was alone, discarded. The thought stoked a quiet anger in the vampire's ancient heart. Mortals discarding their offspring—he had seen it before, but it never ceased to disgust him. How fragile these human children were, and how cruel their keepers could be.

  He advanced, silent as a passing shadow, until he was but a stone's throw from the boy. He watched as the child crumpled against a building's stone wall, fighting for breath, small shoulders hitching. The boy looked up into the sky as if searching for a star or a miracle. There was no star. The clouds had devoured them all.

  Alucard considered his next move. He could simply turn away, vanish, leave the human whelp to fate. It would make no difference in the greater scheme of things. Children died every day, especially in these uncaring streets. But something stayed his hand. Perhaps it was the unusual magical aura, or a fleeting memory of another time when innocence had been so sorely abused. Or perhaps he was simply bored with apathy. Whatever the cause, Alucard stepped forward, letting his boots click against the pavement.

  The boy jerked his head around, startled. His green eyes widened with fear—what creature of the night had come to finish him off?

  Alucard tilted his head slightly and spoke in a voice that rolled like distant thunder, "You'll catch your death out here, child."

  Harry stammered, pressing himself against the wall. His voice was barely audible, "W-who are you?"

  There was no kindness in Alucard's grin—he was not a kind creature—but neither was there immediate threat. "Just a traveler," he said with a mock-casual tone. "And who might you be?"

  Harry did not trust easily, and certainly not a stranger appearing at this hour. He tightened his thin arms around himself, "Harry," he said softly.

  Alucard nodded, removing his hat and giving a slight bow, as if greeting royalty in a court. "Harry. I see." He repced the hat on his head. "Why are you alone on such a dreadful night?"

  Harry lowered his gaze, droplets of water on his eyeshes. He had no answer that made sense. He barely understood it himself. "My...family," he said, voice cracking on the word, "they left me here."

  Alucard's lips twisted. Family. Mortals always spoke of family as if it were sacred. But here was proof that it was often just a word. "That is unfortunate," the vampire said evenly. He took a step closer, and Harry shrank back, but had nowhere to go. "Do not fear. I won't harm you." A pause, then his tone softened fractionally. "You're soaked through. You need shelter."

  Harry sniffed. His throat hurt, his chest ached, and he tasted salt—tears mingling with rain. "I don't...I don't have anywhere."

  It would be so easy to take pity on this child, to offer a dry pce to rest. Yet Alucard was no angel, no saint. He served the Hellsing Organization, which protected Engnd from supernatural threats. This boy was no threat, simply a victim. Why bother? Another question rose, quieter but persistent: Did the boy's aura mean something more?

  Alucard extended a gloved hand. "Come with me." His crimson coat fred slightly in the wind. "I can bring you somewhere safe. Somewhere warm and dry."

  Harry hesitated. The man was strange—a towering form with a predatory grace. But what choice did he have? Alone, he would perish. "Please," he whispered. "I-I'm cold."

  Alucard reached out and, gently for a creature of such power, lifted the boy into his arms. Harry gasped at the sudden movement, but the vampire's grip was firm and surprisingly steady, as if the wind itself cradled him. "We shall return home, then," Alucard said, voice distant. "My home. Or rather, the estate of my master, where I reside."

  They stepped into the rain, and Alucard moved swiftly, his stride devouring the distance. Harry clung to him, too exhausted to protest. He had never known anyone who could move so fast, or so silently. Buildings blurred by. The child didn't know where they were headed, but as the minutes passed, he noticed that they were leaving behind the dingier streets. The architecture changed—older, more dignified. The mps were better maintained, the avenues broader. Alucard's presence warded off whatever ruffians might have lingered at this hour.

  During this quiet journey, Harry drifted in and out of a half-dream state. The vampire's coat smelled oddly of old leather and faint tobacco smoke. Harry's mind spun with questions he was too weak to voice. His scar throbbed under his soaked fringe, reminding him of something he couldn't quite recall. He should have been afraid of this stranger—but fear took energy, and Harry had none left. His small body went limp with exhaustion.

  Alucard gnced down at the boy, noticing how he trembled even in his sleep. This would need more than a warm fire. The child needed proper care. Integra would know what to do, he thought. Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Alucard's master, was a formidable woman. She protected Engnd from supernatural forces and commanded respect with ease. She was also proud, stern, and not easily moved by sentiment. But Alucard had seen sparks of compassion in her deep blue eyes, had witnessed her decisions swayed by a desire to protect the innocent. If anyone in this world could take in a lost and gifted child, it would be her.

  As he made his way through silent neighborhoods, Alucard recalled stories told in the darker circles he sometimes occupied—stories of a hidden world of magic, of a boy named Harry Potter who had supposedly destroyed a great Dark Wizard as an infant. He remembered snippets, rumors overheard between the death rattles of supernatural foes. Some said the boy had vanished into obscurity, some said he was raised in secret by powerful guardians. Alucard had never cared enough to confirm those stories. But the coincidence of the name Harry and the presence of untamed magic was too stark to ignore. Could this be that child? The one who had ended a monstrous wizard named Voldemort?

  If so, how had he come to this sorry state?

  A feral grin spread across Alucard's face, though it held no real amusement. Ah, what tangled webs mortals wove. Perhaps this was fate's way of interfering in old games. If this boy truly was the legendary Harry Potter, that would mean there were others with an interest in him. Powerful others, perhaps even that old fool Dumbledore he had heard rumors about when crossing paths with rare wizards. Alucard's grin widened. If so, Integra would undoubtedly relish thwarting any maniputive schemes id out by a bearded puppet master.

  Soon, the towering silhouette of the Hellsing estate rose before them. It was an old mansion, steeped in history and fortified by more than brick and mortar. Protective wards, some of them centuries old, wreathed the property. A long driveway curved up through manicured wns and ancient oaks. Electric mps lit the perimeter, and discreet security measures guarded against intruders, both human and otherwise. Alucard walked up to the main doors, a pair of massive wooden sbs adorned with ironwork, and they opened silently at his approach—someone always kept watch here, and the staff knew Alucard needed no challenge.

  Inside, the foyer was warm and quiet. Marble floors reflected the light of chandeliers. A few of Hellsing's loyal staff and mercenaries were on standby, but they knew better than to question their lord vampire when he carried a child. They watched curiously but said nothing. Alucard strode through hallways adorned with portraits of long-dead Hellsings. He carried Harry with ease, as if the boy weighed nothing.

  He came at st to a study lined with shelves of old tomes and leather-bound reports. The door was slightly ajar, warm mplight spilling into the corridor. Behind a rge oak desk, working te into the night as she often did, sat Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. She was in her early twenties at this time, yet her bearing was that of someone older—straight-backed, composed, her long, ptinum-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore a tailored suit, and her piercing blue eyes were fixed on some document detailing recent vampiric sightings in the English countryside.

  When Alucard stepped into the room, Integra looked up sharply. He never disturbed her work lightly. Then her eyes fell upon the bundle in his arms. Surprise flickered across her face. She stood, setting her papers down. "Alucard," she said, her tone measured, "What is this?"

  The vampire approached and carefully lowered Harry onto a leather chaise near the hearth. Harry's small form looked even more fragile against the dark leather. "A child," Alucard replied, voice carrying just a hint of wryness. "I found him wandering the streets, abandoned and half-dead."

  Integra frowned, coming around the desk. She knelt by the chaise. Harry stirred, whimpering softly, his eyes fluttering open briefly to see a tall woman with gsses and a concerned expression. "He's soaked through," Integra said softly. She reached out to touch his forehead, noting the feverish warmth, the bruises along his arms and cheekbones. "What happened to him?"

  Alucard stood behind her, hat in hand. "He cims his family left him. Threw him onto the streets." Disgust edged his tone. "He has magic. I felt it. Raw, untamed."

  Integra's eyes narrowed. The Hellsing family had dealt with many things, but a discarded magical child was new. She leaned in closer, catching a glimpse of the lightning-bolt scar. Recognition dawned. She had heard rumors as well. The Boy-Who-Lived, they called him. A child who had supposedly vanquished a dark sorcerer named Voldemort when he was but a babe. The wizarding world had whispered his name for years. If this was indeed Harry Potter, then something was gravely amiss. The supposed savior of wizardkind, left to rot in an alley?

  She looked to Alucard, who met her gaze. Neither spoke for a moment, but a silent understanding passed between them. The child would not be sent away or turned over to strangers. They would care for him. To do otherwise would be beneath Hellsing's honor and her own sense of duty.

  Integra stood and summoned Walter C. Dornez, the family retainer and former Hellsing butler. He arrived swiftly, a dignified gentleman with silver hair and impeccable manners. Upon seeing the child's condition, he immediately set to preparing hot water and medical supplies. Another staff member brought warm bnkets.

  While Walter prepared a suitable guest room, Integra gently ran a hand over Harry's damp hair. She was not a mother—she had never had children, never even considered it—but at this moment, a maternal instinct she did not know she possessed stirred within her. The boy was in need, helpless, and she had the means to help him. She would.

  "Alucard," Integra said quietly, "Stay here. Guard him. I will make arrangements."

  The vampire bowed his head, "As you wish."

  Integra left the study, moving swiftly through the halls. She instructed the staff to ready a room near her own suite. She wanted to keep the boy close, at least until they knew what state he was in. She also ordered them to call a trusted physician who occasionally assisted the organization in non-supernatural matters. This physician, though not privy to the full extent of Hellsing's secret war, knew better than to ask unnecessary questions.

  Once the preparations were made, Integra returned to find Alucard standing watchful as ever, and Harry drifting in and out of a feverish doze. They lifted him gently and carried him to the prepared room, which was warm and softly lit by a bedside mp. Walter had pced a basin of warm water on a side table and id out clean pajamas of soft cotton that would be far too rge but infinitely better than his ragged, wet clothes.

  Alucard withdrew to the corner of the room, silent as a statue, while Integra and Walter busied themselves with cleaning Harry's small cuts and bruises. The boy stirred, blinking up at Integra with confusion and trepidation. She spoke softly, "You are safe here, Harry. No one will harm you."

  He swallowed hard, tears gathering in his eyes. No one had ever spoken to him like that before, at least not since he could remember. "W-where am I?"

  "Home," she said simply, though she knew it was too soon to call it that. "This is the Hellsing estate. I am Sir Integra. The gentleman over there is Walter, and that"—she tilted her head towards the shadowy corner—"is Alucard. You were in a bad way when Alucard found you."

  Harry sniffed. The warmth of the room felt surreal, as if he had stumbled into a dream. He looked down, embarrassed by his ragged appearance and his bruises. He had been taught he deserved no better. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

  Integra exchanged a gnce with Walter. A child apologizing for being abandoned and beaten—what horrors had he endured? She touched his shoulder lightly, "You are not trouble. You need help, and we are here to provide it. That is all."

  Harry's lower lip trembled. He bit it to keep from sobbing. He couldn't understand this kindness. And he was frightened it would vanish if he showed too much emotion. He held it all in, nodding mutely.

  "Good," Integra said, settling into a chair by the bed. "In a short while, a doctor will come to ensure you are well. After that, you will rest. In the morning, we will talk more."

  Harry nodded again, exhaustion washing over him. He y back against the pillows. They were softer than anything he'd ever felt. As he drifted, he could hear Walter humming softly, a soothing, old melody. Alucard remained silent, unreadable, while Integra watched over him like a sentinel.

  Far away, in a pce known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, set in the Scottish Highnds, an old man sat in a grand office filled with curious instruments. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was awake despite the te hour. He had been brooding over matters of great importance. Chief among them: Harry Potter, the boy he had pced with Lily Potter's sister, the boy who was the key to Voldemort's eventual destruction. Dumbledore had carefully constructed a narrative—the Boy-Who-Lived would be nurtured in obscurity, humbled, so that when the time came, he would sacrifice himself willingly. The greater good, as Gellert had once said. Sacrifice for the greater good. Those words haunted him still, and he clung to them as a mantra justifying his decisions.

  Dumbledore sighed, sipping tea that had long gone cold. He gnced at a silver contraption meant to track Harry's location and well-being. The instrument gave off nonsensical readings tonight. Probably a fault in the delicate runes. The wards he had set at the Dursleys' were not showing the expected patterns. He tapped it with a wand. The needles spun wildly and stilled, pointing nowhere.

  He frowned. It would require recalibration. Still, he felt no urgency. The Dursleys would never dare to harm Harry fatally; he had spelled them to keep the boy alive for the blood wards. He had also spread rumors, controlled the narrative in the wizarding world. Sirius Bck, that troublesome godfather, rotted in Azkaban thanks to well-pced 'misunderstandings.' He needed Harry malleable, unknowing, obedient. The child's suffering was regrettable but necessary. In the end, Harry's death would rid the world of Voldemort's st Horcrux—the shard hidden in that scar. All for the greater good.

  Comforted by these justifications, Dumbledore turned his attention to other matters, never imagining that his carefully id pns were already unraveling thousands of miles away. He would not think again of Harry Potter tonight.

  At the fortress of Nurmengard, Gellert Grindelwald y awake in his cell. Decades had passed since his defeat at Dumbledore's hands, since he had been locked away in this prison of his own making. Once, he and Albus had shared dreams, visions of a world remade. "For the greater good," they had said, smiling, believing in their cause, until betrayal and death shattered everything. Now Gellert stewed in bitterness, wounded by the stunning spell that had come as he slept, robbed of even the dignity of a duel to the finish.

  He felt the magical currents shift sometimes, faint echoes passing through stone walls. Tonight, he sensed something different—an abrupt disturbance in the carefully wrought tapestry Dumbledore had woven over the years. Grindelwald grinned, toothless and hollow. He had time—endless time—to reflect on all their past sins. Perhaps fate would turn the tables on Dumbledore. Perhaps the old man's pawn, the Boy-Who-Lived, had slipped free from his control.

  With nothing else to do, Grindelwald closed his eyes and savored the possibility of Dumbledore's grand design coming undone. It was a small comfort in his silent cell.

  At the Hellsing estate, dawn approached. Harry had long since fallen asleep, safe and warm for the first time he could remember. Walter had tended his minor injuries, the physician had come and gone, reassuring Integra that with rest and proper nutrition, the boy would recover.

  Integra stood by the window in Harry's room, looking out over the immacute wns now glistening with morning dew. Alucard stood behind her, arms crossed, silent. They were both nocturnal in their own ways—Integra by the demands of her work, Alucard by nature. She contempted the responsibility that had unexpectedly fallen into her p. She had made decisions of life and death many times over, had commanded soldiers, and steered the fate of the country against supernatural threats. Yet protecting and raising a child, especially one as vulnerable as Harry, felt like entirely new territory. It stirred something inside her—a fierce, protective instinct.

  She remembered the pain of her own childhood, losing her father at a young age, being thrust into leadership before her time. If she could spare Harry even a fraction of such loneliness, then she would. The idea of having a child to care for, a ward, someone to guide and nurture, filled her with a quiet resolve. She knew nothing of his magical world yet, nor of the forces that might come looking for him. But that was fine. The Hellsing family had always stood against the darkness, and if protecting Harry meant battling wizards and conspiracies, so be it.

  Behind her, Alucard finally spoke, voice low and almost amused, "You are taking the boy's plight personally, Master."

  Integra turned slightly, looking at Alucard with level eyes. "Would you have me cast him out into the rain again?" she asked softly, a note of challenge in her voice.

  Alucard chuckled, a deep sound that resonated in his chest. "I would not. I merely find it...interesting."

  Integra folded her arms. "We know who he is, or at least who he might be. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The wizarding world's hero. Yet they left him in the care of people who threw him away. Why?"

  Alucard shrugged, his grin feral in the half-light. "Mortals and their schemes. Perhaps someone of influence wanted him weak and desperate."

  A spark of anger fred in Integra's eyes. She detested manipution of children. "They will not have him," she said firmly. "I will protect him." A pause, and a faint, wry smile touched her lips. "I suppose I'll have to deal with the wizarding world in time, but first, the boy must heal and learn to trust again."

  Walter entered quietly, bringing a tray with tea and toast for Integra. She thanked him and sipped her tea, contempting the future. The Hellsing Organization had resources. They had knowledge, albeit mostly about vampires, ghouls, and other dark creatures. But they could learn about wizardkind if needed. One step at a time.

  In his sleep, Harry murmured softly, turning onto his side. The bnkets rose and fell with his slow, even breaths. His hair still partially obscured the scar that was so famous in another world he'd never truly known. For now, he was just a child, safe at st.

  Hours ter, as the morning sun climbed higher, Harry awoke to find a pte of warm porridge and toast at his bedside. The smell of real food made his stomach clench. He ate slowly at first, expecting a hand to strike him, a voice to shout at him to hurry. None came. Instead, Walter encouraged him with a gentle smile, "Slowly, Master Harry. There is more if you wish."

  Master Harry. Harry blinked at the unfamiliar address. He had always been 'boy' or 'freak.' Now he was Master Harry. The staff treated him with kindness and respect. It was bewildering, but also warm, like slipping into a safe harbor after a lifetime at sea.

  After breakfast, Integra came in, pulling a chair beside his bed. She asked him simple questions about how he felt and if he needed anything. Harry tried to answer politely. He was still shy, still half-convinced this was a trick. But nothing in Integra's voice hinted at cruelty.

  "Harry," she said at st, "I know this may be difficult, but I need to understand what happened to you. You said your family abandoned you. Can you tell me more?"

  Harry looked down at his hands. They were small and bony. He picked at a loose thread in the bnket. "They...they never liked me," he began haltingly, voice barely above a whisper. "My aunt and uncle, the Dursleys. They said I was a burden. They...they made me sleep in a cupboard and do chores. If I did anything wrong, they'd...hit me."

  Integra clenched her jaw, working to keep her anger off her face. "Go on," she said gently.

  Harry's voice wavered, "They told me my parents died in a car crash. They never spoke kind words about them. One night, they just put me in the car and...left me on a street in London. They said good riddance."

  Integra bowed her head, anger simmering behind her eyes. She knew the name Potter, knew from stories that Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter, were murdered by Voldemort, not killed in an accident. The Dursleys had lied to the boy all his life, isoted him, and now discarded him. Unforgivable.

  She pced a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You will never go back to them. That I promise you."

  Harry blinked, tears threatening again. He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

  "There is something else you should know, Harry," Integra continued softly. "You are not just an ordinary boy. You have magic."

  He looked up sharply, frightened. "I-I'm a freak—"

  "No," Integra said firmly, cutting him off. "Never use that word to describe yourself. Magic is a gift, a talent. You are not a freak. You are special, and that frightens some people. But here, we will not punish you for what you are."

  Harry flushed slightly and nodded. It was a lot to take in, but in some corner of his mind, a weight lifted. He had always felt different, had always done odd things that couldn't be expined. Now someone said it wasn't his fault, it wasn't something monstrous—it was just magic. He wasn't sure what that entailed, but maybe here he could learn without being hurt.

  Integra rose and straightened her suit jacket. "I will leave you to rest more. Walter will bring you anything you need. Later, we will speak again, and I'll tell you more about us—the Hellsing Organization—and about your heritage."

  As she turned to leave, Harry called out softly, "Thank you."

  Integra looked over her shoulder, offering the boy a gentle smile that made her stern features almost maternal. "You are welcome, Harry."

  That afternoon, Alucard lurked in the hallways, drifting in and out of shadows. He watched from doorways, his red eyes narrowing as he observed the child who had so quickly become the heart of this unexpected scenario. Harry was walking with Walter along a corridor, taking slow steps as he gained strength. The butler pointed out various paintings and suits of armor, telling small stories to amuse the boy. Harry listened, wide-eyed, as if he had stepped into a fairy tale.

  Alucard smirked. He had not expected to be pying nursemaid to a wizard child. Still, there was a certain dark pleasure in knowing that this child's fate had slipped from the grasp of Dumbledore, whoever he truly was. The wizard's maniputions would undoubtedly be id bare eventually. Let the old puppet master stew in confusion. The vampire had no loyalty to wizards, but Harry's innocence intrigued him. He would watch over this boy, not out of kindness, but because it amused him to see how events would unfold. And because Integra had commanded it, of course.

  Later, as the evening sun sank low, Integra received a private missive from one of her contacts who moved in the fringes of the wizarding underworld. The note confirmed what she suspected—Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was supposed to be safe and hidden with family. That Dumbledore was orchestrating matters behind the scenes. Integra's lips curled into a tight smile. This Dumbledore would find he did not control all the pieces. If he came for Harry, he would face the full fury of Hellsing.

  For now, she would not inform the boy of his extraordinary reputation. He needed stability and care more than legends and burdens. In time, she would tell him the truth: that he was famous, that his parents were heroes, and that he had an enemy and a destiny. But only after he was strong enough to bear it, and only when Integra was certain no harm would come to him.

  Night fell over London again, quieter than before. The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and fresh. A crescent moon rose, silver and sharp. In the Hellsing estate, a small figure y in a warm bed, dreaming. Harry's dreams were full of strange images—he saw a fsh of green light, heard a high, cold ugh, and felt a burning on his forehead. He tossed and turned, caught in half-remembered terrors. But then, as if guided by a gentle hand, his dreams shifted. He imagined a tall, fair-haired woman watching over him, a patient old man with a kind smile offering him tea, and a crimson-eyed figure standing guard in the darkness, forbidding harm to come near. He slept through the night, unafraid.

  Below stairs, Integra and Alucard discussed what to do next. They would learn more of the wizarding world's ways. They would gather information. Hellsing might need to expand its purview—battling supernatural threats sometimes meant understanding new enemies. If Dumbledore or others came seeking Harry, Integra would meet them with diplomacy or steel as needed.

  For now, though, the house was quiet, and Harry was safe. Outside, the city carried on. The world kept spinning, oblivious to the fate-altering encounter that had taken pce in the rain-drenched streets. Destiny had diverted its course; a fragile life had been saved. The broken bird that had fallen from its cruel nest had been taken in by the crimson shadows of Hellsing, to be nurtured and protected.

  Within this sanctuary, Harry Potter's story would be written anew—one not dictated by maniputive old men, but forged by his own choices and the kindness of those who had taken him in. It would be a different kind of saga, one that would shake the foundations of the wizarding world and beyond.

  And so the first chapter closed, leaving a quiet promise in the night air: that this abused, neglected child would find strength, family, and truth in the most unexpected of pces.

  End of Chapter One

  AN:

  More on my Patreon:

  patreon.com/c/hitmenscribbles

  More than 20 fanfiction are currently active on my Patreon

  Up to 70+ Chapters across the 20 fanfictions

  Exclusively on Patreon now:

  Kyubii Son Reborn: Harry Potter/Naruto Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Rescued by Tails: Harry Potter/Sonic the Hedgehog Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Rescued by Lamia: Harry Potter/Monster Musume Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Harry Potter and Toon Force: Harry Potter/Looney Tunes Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Shinigami's Vacation: Naruto/Bleach Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Harry Potter and BBPS Reborn: Harry Potter/ LitRPG (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Lonely Ruler and Her Sunshine: Harry Potter/One Piece Crossover (Up to 7 chapters avaible now)

  Raised by Mew Reborn: Harry Potter/Pokemon Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Fragile Hope: Harry Potter/Saw series Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Symphony of Machines: Harry Potter/FNIA Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Despair's Unexpected: Savior Harry Potter/Danganronpa Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  The Silent Lulbies of Forgotten Factory: Harry Potter/Poppy Pytime Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Threads Woven Between Two Souls: Harry Potter/Coraline Crossover (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Queen Of Forbidden Forest: Harry Potter (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Worlds Unbound Magic: Modern Harry Potter(events are 20 years so instead of 1981 it is in 2001) (Up to 7 Chapters avaible now)

  Moonlight and Mist: Harry Potter/Percy Jackson Crossover (Up to 6 Chapters avaible now)

  You can read any of my fanfictions which are published here with 2 weeks of early access before everyone on my Patreon

  Beyond Boundaries of Time: Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 already avaible on my Patreon

  Neon Shadows of Fate: Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 are already avaible on my Patreon

  Bound by Shadows and Sorrow: Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 are already avaible on my Patreon

  Harry Potter and the Crimson Shadows: Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 are already avaible on my Patreon

  Harry and the Wolf: Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 are already avaible on my Patreon

  Naruto and Secret of Aperture Science: Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 are already avaible on my Patreon