Discimer: I Don't Own Harry Potter or Hellsing

  In the waning hours of the night, when the manor corridors y hushed and bathed in soft mplight, a new day began. December 7, 1988 arrived in a quiet shift from darkness to dawn, the transition seamless yet momentous in the mind of every occupant within Hellsing Manor. The aftermath of the prior evening's revetions lingered in the atmosphere like a lingering chord of music, resonating through every chamber and casting subtle echoes of tension, resolve, and anticipation.

  It was only a few hours earlier that Integra, Alucard, Marvolo, and Harry had left the study, where truths about Horcruxes, maniputions by Albus Dumbledore, and the yers of deception surrounding Harry's identity had been id bare. The firepce embers in that room still glowed faintly, gradually surrendering their warmth to the chill of early morning. Their dwindling light and heat served as an apt metaphor for the fragile alliances formed the night before—fragile yet determined. Beneath the quiet hush, one could sense the deep resolve that had taken root among them. Each individual had, in their own way, decided to stand against the maniputive designs of Dumbledore, to shield Harry from a fate of preordained sacrifice, and to grant him the freedom to shape his future.

  Outside, dawn's pale light touched the snow-flecked wns. Few steps echoed on the polished floors inside, for most of the household remained in the realm of sleep. Harry Potter, however, was awake. After tossing and turning in his bed, his head crowded with the enormity of what he had learned, he rose well before his usual hour. Clutching the soft robe that Integra had given him for warmth, he moved through the manor's corridors, each step purposeful yet subdued. He paused near a tall window and peered out over the grounds. The faint glitter of frost caught his eye. Less than two years ago, he had lived under a cupboard in the Dursley home, starved for warmth and safety. Now, he stood in a grand estate, sheltered by guardians who actively plotted to protect him from the cunning maniputions of a revered wizard. The transformation of his life felt dizzying. In that moment, as he pressed a hand to the cool windowpane, he resolved that he would not falter. He would meet the challenges ahead with courage, supported by a family that believed in him.

  Shortly after, Harry slipped into the dining hall, uncertain if breakfast had been set. He found it empty except for one of the staff quietly tending to the sideboard. The staff member blinked at Harry's early arrival but offered a polite smile. Feeling a burst of gratitude for such simple kindness, Harry merely nodded and asked for a cup of warm tea, which was promptly provided. He took his tea into an adjacent reading nook, where the morning light snted through the tall windows. With each sip, he reflected on what had happened since the moment Marvolo first appeared at the manor gates. The revetions about his parents, about the forcibly altered aspects of his life, and about Dumbledore's maniputive tactics still swirled inside his mind. Yet for all the shock and hurt, he felt a growing conviction that his destiny was finally in his own hands.

  A short time ter, Integra convened a formal meeting in her private study. The order had gone out quietly for Alucard, Walter, and Marvolo to join her, but the summons held an air of urgency. Harry, naturally, was included. By the time they assembled, the sun had fully risen, and Walter had id out a simple breakfast of tea, toast, and scones on a side table. Integra stood behind her desk, her gloved hands resting on polished wood. Her face carried a composed authority, though a spark of fierce determination shone in her eyes.

  Alucard slipped in with a whisper of crimson fabric, leaning against the bookshelves in his typical nguid pose. Marvolo arrived moments ter, escorted by two discreetly armed guards. The wizard inclined his head respectfully to Integra before taking a seat near the firepce. Finally, Harry entered, bancing a pte of half-eaten toast. He looked around, noting the unusual sense of formality in the room. Something about this gathering felt like the beginning of a campaign.

  Integra's gaze swept over them all. "We have a month ahead of us," she began without preamble, her voice clear. "Perhaps longer, perhaps shorter—no one can say how quickly events will escate. But we know Dumbledore is resourceful and determined. We must be more so. Our first goal: ensure that this estate remains invisible to him. Our second: strengthen Harry, in both mind and magic, so that no further attempt can be made to manipute or harm him. Our third: identify potential allies who share our goal of curtailing Dumbledore's influence."

  She paused, letting her words sink in. Marvolo sipped tea thoughtfully. Alucard watched with half-lidded eyes, while Harry shifted forward in his seat. The boy's face dispyed anxious eagerness, as though he yearned to do something tangible. Integra's stern expression softened slightly when she gnced at him. She continued, "Walter, I want you to coordinate with Marvolo on additional wards for the manor. We can't rely solely on secrecy. If Dumbledore attempts to force his way in, I want him walking into a fortress, not a mansion. Alucard—"

  She turned to the vampire, who offered a slight bow. "You've lived through centuries of warfare, both mundane and supernatural. I want your insights on how best to counter wizard tactics. We may face infiltration attempts, illusions, or more subtle maniputions. Your experience will help us anticipate these. Also, your... creative approach may prove valuable if Dumbledore tries psychological warfare. We have no illusions about the man's capacity to manipute the minds and emotions of those he encounters."

  Alucard's grin hinted at a predatory promise. "I'll enjoy teaching a meddling Headmaster that not all humans—or creatures—are in awe of him."

  Then Integra addressed Marvolo directly. "As for you, I expect your cooperation in strengthening our wards and misleading any magical trackers. More importantly, you are the only one here who fully understands the intricacies of wizarding society from the inside. Identify individuals or families who might be dissatisfied with Dumbledore's hegemony. But be cautious. One misstep, and we risk revealing Harry's presence. I will not permit that."

  Marvolo inclined his head in agreement. "I have ideas on that front. Certain old families harbor resentment toward Dumbledore's hold over the Wizengamot. The Greengrasses, the Zabinis, perhaps even some who once aligned with me out of fear rather than loyalty. Then there is Severus Snape, a complex figure who loathes Dumbledore, but has remained under his sway for reasons unknown. He might be persuaded, if approached carefully."

  A flicker of concern crossed Integra's features, but she nodded slowly. "Do it discreetly. Use whatever coded methods you must. Harry's Horcrux and identity must remain secret. If word leaks that Harry's alive under the protection of Hellsing Manor, Dumbledore will stop at nothing to reach him."

  Walter cleared his throat politely. "Sir Integra, shall I bring more tea?" It was a small gesture, but it reminded them that daily routines must go on, even amid these grave pns. She nodded, and he slipped from the room, returning moments ter with a fresh pot and additional cups.

  Harry had listened to the entire exchange in silence, absorbing every word. Now, he pced his pte aside and mustered the courage to speak. His voice was steady though tinged with earnestness. "I want to help," he said, looking at Integra first, then letting his gaze drift to the others. "I can't just... stand by. If we're building wards, or pnning, or contacting people, I want to learn how to do my part. I know I'm only nine, but... this is about me, too."

  Alucard chuckled, a rumbling sound. "Eager, are we?" He eyed Harry, assessing the boy's posture and the determination etched on his face. "Well, child, I've seen grown men half your size in spirit. If Integra allows it, I can instruct you in some... skills."

  Marvolo nodded as well, a faint gleam of pride in his eyes. "And I can teach you the basics of magic—the real fundamentals. Dumbledore might prefer you remain ignorant, but knowledge is your best shield."

  Integra allowed herself a small smile at Harry's resolve. "Then it's settled. We'll begin structured lessons, both magical and otherwise. Harry, you'll split your time between training with Alucard for defense and resilience, and lessons with Marvolo for magic and theory. Walter will oversee your schedule and ensure you don't overexert yourself." She turned to the others. "Does that suit everyone?"

  They agreed in turn. Thus, the meeting ended on a note of unified purpose. While the circumstances were extraordinary, the sense of calm conviction suggested that each member of this makeshift alliance believed in their shared cause. The month ahead, from December 7 onward, would be dedicated to fortifying the manor, educating Harry, and methodically extending careful feelers into the wizarding world.

  The days that followed settled into a rhythm that was both familiar and novel for Harry. On the surface, Hellsing Manor continued its usual routines: staff attended their duties, the occasional mercenary or retainer came and went, and Integra managed the day-to-day affairs of the organization. However, beneath that veneer of normalcy y a busy network of preparatory work. Walter, with Marvolo's counsel, crafted new yers of wards around the estate. They worked side by side in a hidden chamber that housed old Hellsing tomes on arcane knowledge—scripts that had often been used for dealing with vampires and other supernatural threats. Now, they turned these resources to repel or mislead wizard intruders. The synergy between Marvolo's wizarding expertise and Hellsing's centuries of anti-occult strategies proved formidable. Symbols and runes were etched into the very foundations of the manor, woven invisibly into the stone so that any attempt to scry for Harry's location would be deflected.

  In the crisp mornings, Harry rose early and met Alucard in a secluded courtyard at the far side of the estate. There, under a pale winter sky, the vampire instructed him in a series of physical drills. At first, Harry balked at the unfamiliar exercises. Alucard had him climb rope dders, sprint around the perimeter, and practice bance on narrow beams. During one particurly challenging session, Alucard set up a byrinth of shadows in the carriage house, forcing Harry to navigate by sound alone. The boy stumbled often, bruising his elbows and knees, but each time he fell, Alucard's voice floated to him through the dark: "Get up, boy. Fear is a tool. Learn to use it." Over time, Harry's endurance, reflexes, and self-assurance grew. He discovered how to steady his breathing in moments of panic, how to pce his feet lightly without telegraphing movement. He might not become an elite soldier overnight, but he gained the foundation of resilience that Alucard deemed vital.

  Following these sessions, Harry would wash up and join Marvolo in a small library annex, where thick rugs and shelves of magical tomes created an atmosphere reminiscent of a wizard's study. The wizard began with fundamentals: the concept of magical intent, the interpy of emotion and will in casting spells, and the underlying principles that shaped wizarding society. Harry learned about the significance of focus—akin to a mental muscle that directed raw magic outward. Marvolo avoided letting him try advanced spells immediately. Instead, he gave Harry wandless exercises: lifting small objects, coaxing candle fmes to flicker, sensing the energy in the air. The progress was slow at first, with Harry often straining just to stir a quill on the tabletop. But in time, he managed to make feathers lift, or a candle fme dance in gentle patterns. The triumph in these small accomplishments lit a spark in him. Each lesson ended with Marvolo discussing wizarding culture, from the politics of the Ministry to the complexities of old magical families, so that Harry might understand what truly shaped his world.

  Integra oversaw these lessons occasionally, ensuring that Marvolo's methods remained respectful and that no sinister motives lurked behind his teachings. She found, somewhat to her surprise, that Marvolo took genuine pride in Harry's incremental growth. The regret he bore for his past might have fueled his desire to guide the boy responsibly, mitigating the harm he had once caused. Over the weeks, her guarded trust in him increased, though she never forgot the atrocities he had committed. Alucard, for his part, watched with an odd mixture of amusement and approval as Harry's confidence blossomed.

  Evening after evening, Marvolo, Walter, and Integra held private discussions about the estate's defenses. They infused fresh illusions into the perimeter, rendering the manor not just hidden but actively repellent to outsiders. Any wizard who tried to step onto the grounds would be subject to illusions that disguised the terrain, illusions so intricate that even a skilled wizard might become lost or circle back in confusion. For extra safety, Alucard devised more mundane but brutal measures—concealed watchposts, motion-sensitive arms that integrated subtle magical triggers, and exit strategies in case infiltration succeeded. The synergy of ancient magic, modern technology, and centuries-old vampire cunning transformed Hellsing Manor into a fortress no single wizard could breach easily.

  During this period, Harry also found himself drawn into the discussions about strategy. Whenever he asked to observe the wards or help arrange the library for experiments, Integra allowed it. She wanted him to feel like an active participant rather than a sheltered victim. Some nights, after the household had turned in, she walked with him through the corridors, teaching him about the estate's proud history. With quiet pride, she showed him portraits of long-deceased Hellsings, each in their own era's regalia, each sworn to protect humanity from supernatural threats. It was in these moments that Harry felt a profound belonging—no longer was he merely the "Boy Who Lived," but a boy who had found a family and a cause. The sense of victimhood that once haunted him began to dissolve, repced by the resolve of a budding protector.

  Amid these busy weeks, December 25 arrived, bringing with it a gentle snowfall. Integra chose to celebrate Christmas in a modest yet meaningful way. The morning dawned white and quiet, the estate's roofs and wns bnketed in pristine snow. Harry woke to the hush of a holiday that he had never truly experienced as a child under the Dursleys. The staff had adorned the main dining hall with subtle evergreen wreaths and a scattering of festive ribbons. A small tree stood in one corner, draped with twinkling lights. The hush of the halls felt different that day—less about tension and more about warmth, a rare moment of calm in the midst of their preparations.

  At breakfast, Walter presented Harry with a box wrapped in understated paper. Inside y a sleek wand holster of fine leather, crafted to hug the forearm snugly. It was embroidered with the Hellsing crest and had subtle magical wards embedded, courtesy of Marvolo's expertise. Harry's eyes glistened as he thanked Walter, recalling how in all his years with the Dursleys, he had never received a single thoughtful gift. Later, Integra handed him a trio of new magical texts—introductory volumes on defensive enchantments, an overview of wizarding w, and a treatise on ritual magic. Alucard's gift took the form of elegant leather gloves, bck with faint red stitching along the edges, tough enough to withstand rigors of training yet refined in appearance. Last came a wrapped package from Marvolo. Inside was a carved chess set whose pieces were enchanted to shift positions slightly on their own, ready to defend themselves if the board was jostled or if the pyer attempted to cheat. The wizard expined, with a faint smile, that chess was an excellent way to hone strategic thinking.

  That evening, the household enjoyed a special dinner, with Alucard even joining them briefly at the table, though he merely sipped wine and observed. The staff served roast and vegetables, and Harry found himself at the center of an uncharacteristically rexed gathering. There was ughter, quiet conversation, even a few dry jokes from Alucard that broke the tension. For a boy who had known only cruelty on previous Christmases—if the Dursleys bothered to acknowledge him at all—this day felt like a dream. Gifts were secondary; the true present was belonging to a family. In the hush after dinner, while the staff cleared ptes, Harry lingered at the table with Marvolo, who, upon seeing the open curiosity in Harry's eyes, chose to speak about Lily and James Potter. He told small anecdotes: Lily's quick wit and love of experimentation, James's penchant for mischief tempered by bravery. The sorrow in Marvolo's voice spoke volumes of his regrets. Harry absorbed every word with a mixture of grief and comfort, cherishing these new insights into the parents he barely remembered.

  Before bed, Harry sought Integra out, finding her in her study where she stared at the fading fire, lost in thought. She turned at his approach, her stern expression softening. He confessed to her his lingering fear—fear of what waited ahead, of the battles they might face, and the complexities of his magical heritage. Integra reassured him gently but firmly, reminding him that he was no longer an orphan cast into the shadows. Now, he was a son in a family that would stand by him no matter what came. There, on that Christmas night, the hush of the manor felt imbued with hope.

  In the days following Christmas, as December yielded to the new year, Marvolo discreetly sent out coded messages to a handful of potential allies. He used an alias—names he had adopted in other parts of wizarding Europe—and cunning magical seals that only certain correspondents would recognize. The responses trickled in at a cautious pace. Some expressed deep wariness and refused further contact, fearful of crossing Dumbledore. Others responded with measured interest, hinting that they might align with any effort to loosen the Headmaster's stranglehold on British wizarding politics, though they demanded more proof of trust. From Severus Snape came a single, terse reply on aged parchment: "I will not act rashly. Offer details." It was hardly a pledge of support, yet Marvolo took it as a small sign of possibility.

  Throughout early January, Harry's training intensified. Wand practice now supplemented his wandless exercises, though Marvolo stressed that official wizarding channels would frown upon an underage wizard practicing spells outside Hogwarts. Harry saw the need for secrecy, and it only deepened his sense that they were forging a quiet rebellion. By day, he perfected basic defensive spells in the library's hidden corners, learning to cast simple shields or disarming jinxes. By evening, he tackled advanced reading on wizarding customs, discovering that politics in the magical realm could be every bit as treacherous as a battlefield.

  When he wasn't training with Marvolo, Harry continued his physical regimen with Alucard, pushing himself through obstacle courses in the mansion's lesser-used wings or practicing stealth in the sprawling basement corridors. The vampire's methods were unorthodox, often forcing Harry to confront fear head-on—a flicker of movement in a dimly lit hall, a jarring shift of shadows that tested his composure. Yet with each session, the boy's anxiety lessened, repced by a tenacious drive to conquer obstacles. Alucard sometimes teased him, remarking that soon Harry might outrun half the mercenaries on site. In these moments, Harry glimpsed a fatherly pride beneath Alucard's predatory smirk.

  Preparations for a potential confrontation with Dumbledore continued in parallel. The entire household took part in drills orchestrated by Integra. She walked her staff through lockdown procedures, defensive pcements, and communication protocols. Alucard contributed insights on how Dumbledore might use illusions or transfigurations to breach the estate. Marvolo, having lived as Voldemort, expined cssic wizarding infiltration strategies and how best to counter them. They tested wards by simuting infiltration attempts, instructing a few trusted staff to don wizardlike garb and attempt illusions. The results were promising: the new wards forcefully redirected intruders or trapped them in localized illusions, buying the defenders time to respond. Each success unified them further. Even staff who knew little of wizarding intricacies were proud to support Harry, who had become something of a beloved figure in the household: the bright, determined child who had endured so much.

  By January 7, 1989, a calm day dawned, marked by gentle snowfall drifting across the manor grounds. The final lines of that month of preparation were drawn—wards firmly in pce, training routines well established, lines of communication opened with potential allies. In the early morning hush, Harry stood near a window in an upper corridor, gazing at the white fkes that fell silently over the hedges below. A sense of peaceful resolve filled him. He recalled how only a month prior he had awakened to the news that he was a Horcrux, that Dumbledore had tampered with his gender and mind, that an infamous dark wizard was both his erstwhile enemy and reluctant mentor. The weight of those revetions had been crushing, but the st weeks had transformed that burden into a mission. He was not powerless. Supported by Integra, Alucard, Walter, and even Marvolo, he now had the means to shape his own destiny.

  The soft tread of footsteps announced Integra's arrival. She paused beside him, following his gaze out the window. The snow bnketed the grounds, pure and serene. For a moment, they said nothing, simply sharing the stillness. Then Integra id a hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "It's been quite a month," she said, her voice quiet yet imbued with admiration for how far he had come. "I know it hasn't been easy."

  Harry turned to her, thinking about the lessons, the revetions, the nights he'd cried himself to sleep remembering the mother and father he lost. Yet also he remembered the warmth of the Christmas celebration, the sense of triumph whenever he managed a new spell or completed one of Alucard's daunting challenges, and the comfort of hearing Integra's unwavering vows of protection. "It's... been the hardest month," he admitted, "but also the best. Because I know the truth now, and I'm doing something about it."

  Integra's grey-blue eyes reflected pride. "You've grown so much, Harry. And this is only the beginning. We still have a long road ahead—Dumbledore is powerful, cunning, and unaccustomed to opposition. But we won't face it unprepared. And you won't face it alone."

  He nodded, a rush of emotion tightening his throat. Hearing those words—especially the st—stirred both gratitude and determination within him. "I promise," he said softly, "no matter what happens, I'll never let him control me again."

  A hint of a smile touched Integra's lips. "That's the spirit of a true Hellsing," she said, her voice resonating with gentle pride. "Come. Alucard is waiting in the courtyard. Something about a new endurance test. After that, Marvolo mentioned a lesson on casting illusions. And ter, we'll have a briefing about your next steps in preparing for any contact with potential allies. A busy day."

  Harry gnced out the window one final time, letting the snow's quiet beauty imprint itself on his memory, then turned to follow Integra. As they walked, his mind circled back to that vow. He had repeated it so many times in private moments—never again would he be shaped into something he was not, never again would he be used as a mb for sughter. The vow felt ever more real. With each day's training and each new sense of belonging at Hellsing Manor, he was forging a future on his own terms.

  In the courtyard, Alucard stood awaiting them, his crimson coat fring in a stray breeze. The sky overhead was a pale winter blue, the sun struggling to pierce through the light snowfall. When Harry stepped outside, bracing against the cold, Alucard greeted him with a teasing grin that bared a hint of fang. "Ready to run until your legs give out, boy?" he asked in a pyful snarl. Harry, bolstered by the sense of family behind him, nodded with a grin of his own. He was ready for anything. The hush of falling snow, the fortress-like wards of the manor, and the unwavering presence of his guardians all served as a testament that together they stood as a shield against the swirling chaos of the wizarding world.

  Inside, Marvolo watched from a window as Harry joined Alucard for their morning training. He allowed himself a moment of reflection. In a month's time, he had seen the boy evolve from anxious child to a steadily maturing young wizard who possessed both curiosity and courage. The memory of Lily's eyes haunted him, seeing them mirrored in Harry's face. And the knowledge that he, Tom Riddle, had once sought the child's demise tore at him daily. Yet each time Harry succeeded in a new spell or overcame a challenge, Marvolo felt the faint stirrings of redemption—if not for the horrors he inflicted, then at least for the cruelty that had shaped them both under Dumbledore's maniputions.

  Even as he stared out into the snowy courtyard, his mind churned with possibilities of what might come next. Letters had gone out to potential allies. The responses were tentative. Would they trust a man with his dark past? Could they be persuaded to stand against Dumbledore? Only time would tell. For now, Marvolo breathed in the hush of morning, reminding himself that this chapter of quiet was precious. The storm, he knew, could break at any moment. When it did, the alliances formed here must be strong enough to weather the tempest.

  Walter approached him discreetly, requesting his presence in the estate's armory to assist with enchanting certain protective gear for the staff. Marvolo nodded, turning from the window. A month ago, he had been an unwelcome stranger seeking safe harbor. Now, he was quietly integrated into the daily tasks that secured Harry's future. That synergy—of Muggle technology, vampiric cunning, and wizarding knowledge—might well prove unstoppable if Dumbledore dared to trespass. As he followed Walter down the corridor, Marvolo felt a cautious hope that, perhaps for the first time in decades, he was serving a cause that might genuinely protect the vulnerable rather than exploit them.

  Thus, the day continued in a purposeful hum of activity—drills in the courtyard, magical lessons in the library, finishing touches on wards in hidden corners of the manor. Everyone pyed a role, from the housekeeping staff who maintained normalcy to the armed guards who polished their rifles while whispering of potential wizard intruders. Each act was yered with unspoken readiness, for though the manor was peaceful under the gentle snowfall, they all recognized that beyond those gates y a wizarding world soon to be rocked by revetions.

  Late in the afternoon, Alucard and Harry returned indoors, the boy's cheeks flushed red from the cold and exertion. They left footprints of melting snow across the marbled floors. Harry hurried to change out of his damp clothes, then joined Marvolo in the library for an extended session on illusions—learning how to create small-scale illusions of shapes or colors that flickered in the air. The exercises taxed his concentration, but he managed to conjure a flickering swirl of light resembling a phantom bird. When it vanished, Marvolo offered a nod of approval. Integra, observing from the doorway, permitted herself a rare smile. She thought of how the boy had grown from the neglected child she first encountered. The boy he was then could hardly speak his mind without trembling. Now, he faced complex magical tasks and the looming threat of Dumbledore with calm resolve.

  Evening draped the manor in a new hush, with staff lighting the mps and preparing supper. Harry, freshly showered and changed, retreated to the reading nook near the dining hall, drawn by a crackling fire. He settled onto a plush chair, gazing at the dancing fmes. The events of the past month pyed through his mind. He recalled each step of his new training, each conversation with Marvolo about wizarding politics, each stealth drill with Alucard that left him battered but triumphant. He remembered Christmas morning, the gifts that felt like tokens of genuine care, and the vow he made that day: never again would he be a tool for someone else's grand pn. Every day since, he had bored to make that vow reality.

  Footsteps signaled Integra's approach. She crossed the carpet and took a seat across from him, her posture as straight as ever. Through the window, the snow continued to fall, gilded by mplight. Harry regarded her with a tired smile. "Thank you," he said softly, surprising even himself with the simplicity of those words.

  Integra inclined her head. "For what?"

  "For everything," he replied, shifting forward in the chair. "For teaching me, for letting me help, for... making me feel safe. And for trusting me enough to be part of all this."

  Her expression softened. "You earned that trust. And you are part of this family now, Harry. We stand by each other. That's what family does."

  He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Outside, a gust of wind brushed against the windows, rattling them slightly. The hush that followed felt like the calm before a storm. Yet in that quiet, Harry felt certain that, whatever storm came, he would face it not as a lonely child but as a member of Hellsing Manor—a pce of safety, strategy, and strange, fierce love.

  Alucard drifted in then, his boots making a muffled thud on the carpet. He looked at Harry, one eyebrow quirked in faint amusement. "How's the new illusions training?" he asked.

  Harry grinned, some color returning to his cheeks. "I can make a ghost bird. It's not perfect, but it's... I did it."

  Alucard chuckled softly. "Better than I expected, boy." Then, uncharacteristically, he added in a low voice, "Keep at it. You'll surprise yourself before long." The vampire offered one of his rare, genuine smiles—a small curve of the lips that conveyed proud acknowledgment. Harry beamed, warmed by this approval that he never expected from someone so aloof. Then, with a mock flourish, Alucard bowed lightly to Integra and retreated back into the corridors, presumably to continue his own vigil.

  The evening supper passed quietly. Walter served a simple meal, ensuring everyone remained well fed after the day's work. Marvolo joined them at the table, sharing small updates on the letters he had sent. Most correspondents remained cautious, but a few had asked for future contact. They might yet gain valuable supporters if Dumbledore's overreach continued. The conversation was measured, each participant aware that every alliance formed could shift the entire wizarding power structure.

  Finally, as the snow outside thickened and the mantle of night settled fully, the household drifted apart for their nightly routines. Walter handled st checks of the wards, Integra retired to her study for a final review of strategic notes, and Alucard presumably vanished into the estate's recesses to indulge in his own brand of watchfulness. Harry, after tidying his notes on illusions, ascended the grand staircase to his bedroom. There, he changed into warm pajamas, the events of the day still ringing in his ears. Standing by the window, he gazed upon the bnketed grounds one more time, thinking of how that pristine white was a fleeting symbol of peace. Yet the hush felt comforting rather than ominous.

  He whispered softly, scarcely audible to himself, "I'll never let anyone control me again." The vow carried more conviction than ever. The flicker of hope that had once been a spark had grown into a steady fme. He had found family, purpose, and a path to forging his identity anew. Whatever Dumbledore pnned, Harry would not be an ignorant sacrifice.

  Closing the curtains, he climbed into bed. The day's exertions weighed pleasantly on him, and he drifted toward sleep with ease. In his st waking moments, he pictured the chess set from Marvolo, the gloves from Alucard, the books from Integra, and the wand holster from Walter. Each gift was a tangible reminder that he was cherished, that he had a pce where he mattered. Outside, the snow continued its gentle descent, cloaking the manor's defenses in white, offering a serene visage that belied the fierce readiness beneath.

  And so the month that began on December 7 concluded on January 7, 1989 in a quiet hush of resolve and solidarity. Hellsing Manor stood as a bastion of defiance against the wizarding world's maniputive maestro, and within its walls, a young boy once destined for sughter was learning to wield not just magic, but his own agency. The lines were drawn, the household united, and the storms of the future gathered just beyond the horizon. Yet in that stillness, one could sense the unwavering spirit of each person who had chosen to protect Harry. The next chapter of conflict might come soon, but for now, the snow-draped manor knew a rare and beautiful calm—one that nurtured the seeds of a revolution.

  AN:

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  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 11 and Chapter 12 [Last Chapter] already avaible on my Patreon

  Neon Shadows of Fate: Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 already avaible on my Patreon

  Bound by Shadows and Sorrow: Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 already avaible on my Patreon

  Harry Potter and the Crimson Shadows: Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 already avaible on my Patreon

  Harry and the Wolf: Chapter 13 and Chapter 14 are already avaible on my Patreon

  Naruto and Secret of Aperture Science: Chapter 13 and Chapter 14 are already avaible on my Patreon