Prologue: A Road of Swords and Thunder

Another year had passed and Harry had slunk out of rage and gone into depression before training once again. He had gained a demon form and had trained in its unique powers along with his newly obtained human form demon power. Some of which includes the following:

Greater power over darkness.

Walking through walls.

Levitation.

Telekinetic abilities including thought reading (he already has, but now can read without any trouble at all) telekinesis, mind control upgrade, influencing actions without anybody realizing it.

Mass illusions.

Invisibility.

Death through touch.

Each of the aforementioned abilities are extensions of his demon form and are accessible in human form. They are quite the list of abilities, huh? You'll get a list of the demon form abilities when he actually goes demon. I'm sure there's something in this world that can piss him off enough for that to happen. We will just have to wait and see.

You all know his approximate chakra levels. As for his demonic energy levels, well, it is around the same, if not a little less, than Sesshomaru when that demon was in his prime. His darkness was directly correlated with his magic levels, as both are of a spiritual aspect so they both siphon off each other. You could say that with all of the practice he was having, he was at about the level of a mage. In magic only, he was about level 40. He was, in all sense of all words, formidable. You would not want to cross him.

His final awakening would be in the spring of his tenth year of physical life. It would be found in the form of a sword, turned into a sword.

Harry had decided that, to remain inconspicuous, he needed a normal sword. The weapons he had at the moment would draw way too much attention, so he needed something that looked at least slightly normal to carry around. And he wanted to be able to fight in close with another person and still have as much of an advantage as he could possibly have. That meant getting a normal looking weapon that is used for close or mid range fighting. The only problem was finding a place that sold actual good quality, working swords. He had Vernon on that for the last week while Dudley picked up on the chores and cooking. He was apparently a very good chef, and took pride in that fact. Harry could care less.

The other day, Vernon managed to find a good weapons supplier. It was twenty two kilometers southeast of their current position. They were going to travel there on that day.

So with that, Harry pulled on a light brown long-sleeved shirt made of a nylon substance. His jeans were already on. His power over light and fire burned the perception of reality, allowing his swords to go completely unnoticed by the population around him. He was ready to leave. Vernon, ever the obedient pet, followed along with a serious face. A slightly proud gleam had been in his eye all day. It was 3:26 PM.

Harry danced out the door with that grace that is always in everything he does. It's a subconscious thing that would remind anyone watching of a predator stalking out of hiding. Every movement has a purpose. Nothing was moved too far, and nothing fell too short. The maximum output with the minimum effort. It was perfection, if you thought predatory grace is perfection. I think that it's too serious and a bit… wild.

To describe the day would be redundant. It was day. No clouds were in sight. It was like staring up at a still ocean. The birds swam through the tides. The sun was a hole in the sky, slightly to their left. The breeze locked in a stalemate with the heat, making a perfect afternoon. All Harry could think through this was the taste of metal that would soon be in his hands. Everything was almost complete for his start of Hogwarts.

For his entrance into the magical world.

The two men entered the old car. It was slower, but necessary to enter the city. Vernon drew the key and silkily, almost cunningly if it was possible, slipped the key into the ignition. He turned it as was flipping a coin. Then he sped off.

The car took him to an antique craft shop on Mary Street. It was a pretty well off street, and the shop was well kept. It showed a display case throwing their valuables out to the public's eye. Japanese style. Perfect. The shop looked a lot like a Japanese house. The stereotypical kind, with the red roof and sides that sprang out into swirls and intricate structures that only a Japanese house would have. Red shingles looked like a dragon's scales. The blue siding with pristine paint jumped out, signifying its' differences between the scenic regular shops and its' uniqueness.

Harry once again showed his deadly dance in through the doors of the red spot in a world of grey. He found himself thrown into a new world. The world of swords and samurai.

A sign stood suspended over the shop. It was a quite ironic name. It made sense.

The name of the shop: Ten-ten samurai antiques.

It made so much sense.

Every wall of the shop had some sort of weapons case, and shelves full of small trinkets that looked to be from a time a long ways off. Harry looked around while Vernon stood back at the door. A cashier watched from a distance. Warnings were thrown up around the place about minors touching the merchandise. It was expressly forbidden. Vernon began to follow as a precaution to watch his charge's back. Not that Harry needed it, but the company was needed.

Harry made his way to the first weapons case. It was filled with several swords of varying lengths and colors. He reached down to pick one up. Suddenly, he reacted and threw his hand out to the side and caught an arm aiming to slap his hand out of the case. A yelp was heard. Harry twisted the hand behind the owner's back.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand?"

Vernon took that moment to finally catch up. He was a little late, but it was better than nothing.

"Let go of me!" She began to struggle. Her shoulders swung from side to side in an attempt to break free. Harry shoved her further into the ground.

"You will NOT touch this Sessh- err… Harry ever again. Do you understand?"

"Somebody! Help!" When the woman realized that she wouldn't get out, she called. Her cries would fall on deaf ears. "Somebody! Please!" Tears formed.

Harry threw her to the ground, not caring anymore. It was a waste of his time. She immediately ran to the back of the store. Vernon watched. Harry began to look back at the swords. He mumbled "pathetic" before reaching down to grab the sword he originally wanted to pick up. It had a blue handle with a red dragon spiraling up its' length. He didn't like it.

Leaving the sword, he moved to pick up another one. Another dud. None of these swords would work for him. There was a special weapon reserved just for him, but he would have to look. And he did look. He turned around after examining the second case. He heard something with his enhanced hearing. Listening closely, it sounded like small beeps. Three. Ringing.

A phone. It dawned on him. The woman! She was probably calling the police!

"Shit!" He got out. Vernon rushed to the back as soon as he realized what was happening. A bang and the sound of a voice speaking echoed to the front of the shop.

"Hello, please state your emergency. Hello?" And the phone was hung up. They probably had ten minutes at the most before police came to investigate. It was procedure. Harry had to work fast. He rummaged through the place, throwing weapons everywhere while he looked for the perfect weapon for himself. The place would soon have a metal floor, capable of cutting through the shoes that walked upon it. The sirens began to blaze in the distance.

Harry hastened his search.

A car stopped outside the shop. A man in a recognizable police uniform stepped into the shop. He was lean, with a runner's physique. The beginnings of a mustache were sprouting from his upper lip. Metallic blue eyes looked over the store, partially hidden behind dirt colored hair which was shaved into a crew cut. A gaunt face was the shelf that held those eyes and hair. Placed as an eye catcher for the sake of referencing. A gun holster strapped to his side found itself suddenly open and empty. A hand found a mysterious weight in it. Scrawny fingers felt their way around a cold handle. The gun was ready, in the hands of a man that has never shot before.

The shop was empty. There were no visible living things in there. But, from the look of things, there had been a fight. Weapons and figurines were scattered over the floor. The man was hesitant to go inside. His curiosity got the better of him. The officer stepped inside, carefully avoiding any of the chaos that may or may not impale his tender feet. Nothing was left on the shelves. Everything had fallen to the floor in the obvious fight, but there were no unconscious bodies left for the picking.

Nothing was broken, either, as if somebody wanted to throw the authorities off their trail and meticulously placed the china and armor on the floor in just the right positions. But, the guard didn't notice this. He just kept moving forwards. He looked around warily. He made it to the back of the store and opened the door to the manager's office. In the light of the outside, he was able to make out a body in the blackness. He rushed forwards and checked for any breathing. Negative. He turned on a light. There was nothing dangerous. He took out a phone and called for help. An ambulance, anything.

The man got down, and with all of the training he had, attempted CPR, as he was told to do if the target isn't breathing. Continue until it is confirmed that the target is dead by a medical professional or taken over by someone more qualified.

He had never done this before. He had never seen anyone in this sort of position. He had never had to help anyone. It was scary. His breathing sped up. He suddenly forgot what to do. Tears started to spill out of his eyes. He sniffed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Harry watched on in pity, invisible, with the man Vernon. He quickly went back to looking for the right sword. Another and another were set to the side as more joined the pile. The policeman fell to the ground with a thump as sobs formed under his breath. He was pathetic. Harry just kept looking.

Soon, the cry of an ambulance and two police cars crashed onto the scene. Harry, by then, felt a pull that connected him with something in that store. He just had to find it, dammit! The doors opened. He froze to a statue, not wanting to be heard. Vernon was still unmoving.

The men rushed in and pushed the weapons to the side so the paramedics could get through. Harry ended up backed into a corner as the police began to examine the area for a pre-analysis. Harry decided now was the time to leave and watch from a safer vantage point. He and Vernon, still invisible, crept towards the door. Well, Vernon did. Harry went fast enough that nothing could have possibly been disturbed. Harry made it to the door. He waited. Wouldn't do much good to leave the pig here.

Vernon made it about the time the police found the two people in the back room. The paramedics went to work, carrying a stretcher in for the two people. Wouldn't do much good for the woman. She was dead with a puncture wound in her head. A spare nail found on the counter with a drop of blood and brain matter. Right through the spinal cord. No, she definitely wouldn't be waking up.

Harry opened the door.

He realized he just made a mistake.

A bell rang, drawing the attention of the two police. When the door didn't close, they walked over. A breeze pushed through, cooling the sudden fire that seemed to cover the room. There was no fire. The police readied their guns. Harry realized he made another mistake. He didn't move, and the self closing door didn't close. Vernon was behind him, moving away. Harry wouldn't get hurt.

The two uniformed men opened fire. The glass across the street shattered after the first three shots. A child was hit in the arm. Harry and Vernon became visible, and ran. The bullets of the police that now stood frozen going through Harry as if he was only a ghost. Vernon was out of range, and didn't sustain any injuries.

Finally, one of the frozen men moved. The movement was that of a man attempting a dive without practice jumps. He fell, and hit the ground. Out cold. His pearly white skin had a smear of red from the place his face impacted the ground- his over sized nose. The other man looked down and dropped his gun. He had never tried to take a life before. Not many had. He shook, shivering like he had a cold. He sat down, eyes wide at both what he saw and what he did. His blue-green eyes holding the human emotion of fear.

The paramedics came out as soon as they heard the first shot. One of them hesitated on moving, but when the officer collapsed, his instincts came forth and he jumped into action securing the men and heading them out to the ambulance. They would be fine, but would need monitoring to assure that they don't choke on their vomit in their states of shock. It was a bad day.

Understatement of the year. Or month if you're Harry Potter.

A girl came running through the door of a large house. The house was not really a house, but a mansion. It belonged to Severus Snape, potions extraordinaire. The girl carried a head of golden ponytails and two knives on her sides. Though, nobody would notice. She was under a complex runic illusion grafted by Severus to hold a disguise that no 'muggle' could see through. In place of her unnatural natural appearance was that of a bushy haired bookworm. She was, technically, a bookworm. She loved books.

In fact, that was the reason she was running into the mansion now. She ran into the old four story place with a great grin crying out "Sevvy! Sevvy! Can we go to the bookstore now? You promised me that we could go today! Please?"

And the response was the usual "No! I'm busy right now! I'll take you later."

So, the girl decided to pester him in the way she usually does. "PLEEEEEEAAAAAASE?"

The man sighed from behind the door. "Later."

"Promise?"

"Fine. Sure. I promise." He sounded like a snake the way his 's' cut off at the end. Hermione always compared her new uncle with a snake. Ever since she met him.

I believe this calls for the 'oh so anticipated' flashback without any italics making it as confusing and irrational as possible to create a bad picture and adl cosadnfe ovsadgnavlnjalgnar…

As I was saying.

Here it is.

Hermione had just run away from the madness and graveyard that was her house. She had just killed for the first time, and had lost her parents. One would think that she was miserable. She was.

She had melted and scorched the flesh of most of the people in her house. She didn't know why those men were there, but she knew that they weren't there to play. They gave off the feeling of death. Like they worked for death. They were death's assailants. They killed on order, and accept it. The government agents were there for her.

And she killed them in an excruciatingly painful way. She killed them and her parents. She couldn't control her power. She could hurt someone else if she wasn't careful.

The bottom line was: She could kill.

She had killed.

She was a killer.

She sobbed. Tears ran down her face. The smell of death and burnt flesh was clinging on her like rain. Only it wouldn't come off. It reeked. Hermione almost passed out from the stench. It was almost as horrifying as her previous experience. It kept reminding her. Every time she saw a storm she would probably remember. All she wanted to do was to forget.

Finally seeing where she was, she ducked into a side alley. She leaned against the cold brick wall. The ground rose up to greet her. The yellow dress she wore was stained grey from dust and dirt. Tears painted themselves on her matching shirt. They drew lines which crossed the white ones, coloring the white a murky pale. Her dress stuck to her body, hugging it like she hugged her knees to her chest.

She kept crying. She kept it up until a voice broke through her sobs.

"Hey, kid! Come here!" She looked up, but the sobbing didn't stop.

A grisly looking man was just behind the corner leading further into the ally. The shadows covered most of his face, but his smile was visible. A pointed beard stuck out of his lower lip. His smile and beard did little to calm the girl.

He motioned for her to come. Hermione didn't move.

"Come on. I'm not gonna hurt ya. Just come here."

"I- I m-might hurt y-you."

The man's dark visage seemed to vibrate with laughter. "Don't worry. I don't think you'll hurt me. Just come here."

Hermione stood up slowly. Shakily. She didn't know what to do. Maybe she could ask the man for help. She stumbled before regaining her balance. Her legs told her to sit down. Her mind told her to go to the man to ask for a way out of this nightmare. She listened to her mind.

This decision took her down the alleyway past dumpsters full of black and white bags. The red cracked bricks turning an ever present black similar to the surrounding world. At least to her point of view. She eventually made it to the corner. She was assaulted.

As soon as she turned, a piece of metal found its way onto her head and decided it was time for her to take a little nap. The silver cutting a gash into the side of her skull was left with a small dent. A man chuckled as he dragged a body behind the corner and grabbed some rope. It would be some time before she awoke. Let's fast forwards to after she is tied up and awake.

Hermione woke up. That was obvious. She tried to move, but something was keeping her restricted. That was just as obvious. Something was running down her back. Now, the identity of that, not so much. Or maybe it was. You never know.

Whatever you think, it doesn't matter. Because what was happening at that moment was a man was running his hands down her back and reaching around to molest her breasts. Hermione was panicked. She looked around and found a naked man feeling her naked body. She didn't like it. Especially when she was tied up.

She had no idea what to do, though. She didn't want to hurt anybody else like she did her parents. She was afraid of what she could do. Her fear bit at the back of her neck. It was like a leech. It wanted to suck her dry. It wanted to leave nothing left. And she was completely helpless to its will.

The girl wouldn't use that power ever again. That's what she decided. Because of this decision, she could quite possibly be raped and killed. The tears that had dried around her eyes started painting themselves along her cheeks once again. The sobs came back harder, but her mouth was gagged, preventing her from screaming. Only muffled yelps exited those lips. And sobs. The tears stained the white ripped bed cloth that made up the gag. The hands continued down her body.

It was terrible.

Hermione tried to free herself with little success. Her hands were bound at the wrists and tied to the pipe running through the dank wall behind her. Her legs were tied apart in the perfect position for a man with a mission. And the nine-year-old girl could do nothing about it without resorting to the newly named 'that.' There was only one person that held the key to her freedom at that point.

And he just eviscerated the bastard that was a pinprick from doing something more illegal than he was.

With a single blood smear left on the ground, Severus Snape walked up and untied the girl. One wand motion was all it took. He, in his black cloak that billowed in a unique intimidating manner saved only for him and Voldemort and Harry (And maybe Dumbledor. We'll have to see.) he turned and left. He shouldn't be there longer than he had to be. He had to be somewhere. It was only his luck to come across a heinous act and be in a position to make it better. The girl would be fine.

But, the girl was following him. And it was getting annoying. He would be sure to end all of the girl's little dreams of a savior.

"Girl." He stopped walking. His robes fell still. "Why do you see fit to follow me?"

Hermione stood still for a moment before charging the intimidating man and hugging him. Her tears were rubbing into Snape's robes.

"Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you! Thank you so much. Thank you…" She was almost hanging off of him. Her face buried itself into his chest. Snape had absolutely no idea what to do. He just rose an eyebrow. No need to let anybody know of his lack of knowledge in the area of comfort.

"Go away." Very smooth. You'll get all the ladies.

The girl didn't move.

"Tell me. Why are you still here?"

"B-because you saved me. And I don't have anywhere else to go."

Severus' eyebrow rose a fraction higher. "Then go to your mother. I have places to be."

"I-I don't h-have a mommy anymore…"

The older man's eyes narrowed slightly. Not that anybody would notice. He was trying to formulate what to say next. And not make it sound terrible. "Then go to your father, girl. And leave me alone."

She only cried harder. "He's g-gone, too."

Severus sighed. This was going to take a while. Why he didn't just apparate away, he would never understand. "Then where do you live?"

"I d-d-don't know. I just l-left h-home. There were bad people t-there."

Snape's eyebrow was starting to hurt. He let it down. "Who are these 'bad people'?"

"T-they came with m-masks and g-guns. They scared me and now my m-mommy and daddy are gone."

Snape looked on in sympathy. It didn't show, but the man wanted to throw his heart on the floor before the girl. He only stood resolute. Unmoving. He seemed untouchable. The only thing that threw that theory down the drain was the little girl still hugging him. The girl continued.

"I d-did something. It's all my fault. They're all dead because of me! P-please h-help. Help me! I don't want to hurt anyone else! Please. P-please… I don't want t-to kill… please… please."

The girl continued in her helpless pleading. Snape could only watch. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Maybe he should take her with him and figure out what to do later? But he couldn't do that. Especially if she was muggle. But didn't she say that she did something to kill those people? If she was magical, then he would be able to take her to the magical world. He just couldn't take her in or his standing in society would go down. Taking in a muggleborn.

But, he could do it in secret. That wouldn't hurt. His property was secluded and he had plenty of money. Yes, he could do that.

He spoke. "Girl, stop crying. Tell me your name."

She spoke. "M-my name is H-Hermione." Next she wiped some tears out of her eyes. The dam was being rebuilt. The tears slowed. Rivers became streams.

"Good. You may call me Snape. My name is Severus Snape. Is that understood?"

"Yes Mr. Snape. You know, you sound a little like a snake."

"Thank you," he said absentmindedly. "You said you didn't have a home? Then get over here."

"Y-yes sir."

"You do not have to be afrai-"

He was cut off by the sudden shouting that came from the edge of the alleyway.

Distant shouting. Orders being given. "You! Take a team and scour the rooftops. Get to every vantage point you can. We will find the girl. We can't have something that dangerous running around. Fight with extreme prejudice.

The orders kept flying around corners with men following right behind. Team cappa! Hit the alleys. Team Epsilon, you will take the houses. Act like thieves. You're all drama fags, right? Go! GO! GO! Let's move out!"

And come they did. Almost as soon as the orders had been given, a grenade rolled into the alley that the two current protagonists of this flashback were in. Gas began to filter out of the microscopic holes in the shell and Hermione screamed and ran away from Snape as he was about to apparate away.

"Shit," Snape cursed. He turned and ran after Hermione. She was quite fast for her age. And she seemed to be speeding up. Static danced around her feet. Blue sparks laced her legs and ankles. Snape slowed for a moment. Realizing his mistake, he sped back up and tried to catch her.

Hermione just kept speeding up. Her speed was superhuman. The electricity was both making her movements faster by stimulating her muscles and stimulating her mind resulting in her slowed down perception of time. Like the sharingan. It also increased her memory for that moment in time, as well as her potential for logical analysis. She wasn't a genius. She a god of knowledge.

And she was outrunning Snape an incoming towards her possible demise. But we all know that she survives and ends up calling Snape 'uncle'. The only reason that this is the outcome is Snape's resortment to a temporary stunning charm aimed right at the small of her back.

That sent the girl careening towards the ground where Snape was able to catch her and apparate before anything else happened. Such as Hermione finding some way out of his binding spell.

The masked men came around the corner a second later and confirmed that there was no girl in the area. The smoke dissipated and the Prime Minister declared an unidentified terrorist strike. People, already in fear of the heartless, now feared that another country was attacking them. The Minister lost his heart to the heartless a while later and was replaced by a woman named Elsie Churchill, who was in no way related to Winston Churchill. She would die in the same way sometime during Harry's magic schooling.

But, that's not important.

Let's travel back to the future.

Hermione has some book shopping to get to.

"Come on. Move faster! We have to get there before the place closes."

"I don't think it's going to close before we get there. It closes in three hours."

Snape smiled. He truly loved the girl. He was glad that he picked her up that day in the alley after her… traumatizing day. He had helped her cope with her unusual powers. She was an elemental. They haven't been seen for hundreds of years and were considered myth, but here was one, right in front of him. How could such a fragile girl be so special? So powerful? It was unbelievable.

They neared the apparation point. Snape held Hermione's hand, and she squeezed in a ready gesture. Distorted space closed in on them, twisting and contorting their bodies to the point of improbability, they disappeared.

Only to reappear inside of an alley next to a book store. One of Hermione's favorite places in the world. One look at the sign, and she teleported to the door and inside. She gazed, mesmerized once again by the fountain of knowledge, before digging in like a kid would a birthday cake.

I don't know why someone would like such high concentrations of sugar, but since I don't eat that much, I can't really say anything. Let's wait for Hermione to finish. Passing the time with Some Harry action would probably benefit us all. And Ron will soon be an important player. Molly's love and Dumbledor's manipulations will make sure of that. Who else will join the fray?

If you're wondering about Gaara, then don't. He's not important right now. We'll see him again when he comes to our residential school for the gifted. I use gifted in a very loose way.

Think magical.

Think soon. We're almost there. With Harry at the age of 9, there are only 3 years left until the day of rewards. And seven years after would be the day of rejoice. And one year after rejoicing, will come reckoning. Soon, judgment day will come to pass.