Summary: HP/YYH Fusion. HP/HG. The world as he knew it was about to change. The Muggles aren't as clueless about magic as wizards like to believe. An A/U unlike any I've ever read before.

Disclaimer:I Don't Own These Characters. Except Any Originals. I Might Not Even Own The Plot ;)

Hello everyone, this is my first foray into the realm of fan fiction. This is a story that has been in my head for quite some time. So I decided to write it down. I posting this start on Halloween since those are special in the HP world. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but if too many say that my writing needs to stop I probably will. So if my story grabs your attention, let me know.

Okay warning time.

This story has the following in it at one point or another:Child Abuse, Child Negligence, Crude Language, Torture, Sexual Assault , Death on a Massive Scale, Out of Characterness, Implied Sex, Sex, Money, Drugs, Some Slash, it's there in the story but not graphic. And I'm gonna be killing a lot of people off. Mostly O/C's some cannon.

There are some pairings. No Mary or Gary Sues. Maybe just to be discarded. I really hate all powerful characters, so that's not happening. Though Harry will be a force to be reckoned with, I don't think it will be for a while. Some O/C and cannon. Gonna end H/Hr , R/Lu, and maybe N/G probably one sided though. If any of this offends you hit the back arrow.

Prologue

'The Basement'

London, England

May 25, 1996 - 0147 Hrs.

Marcus Johnson by definition was a sensible person. He knew that sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. He also should have known that something like this was going to happen soon, but that would never prepare him for a such a terribly buggered up situation like this.

Today was supposed to be a good day. It started off so well too. The return from Spain early yesterday morning was without any incident. He woke up and it was a beautiful spring morning. Even the bloody birds were singing. His flatmate didn't use all the hot water like she was prone to do. His dreadlocks weren't even fuzzy on his head. When he got dressed and reached into the pocket he found ten quid.

On route to the 'Beanery', the coffee house he sometimes went to, the traffic seemed to move just for him. He walked in and there wasn't a line and there was always a line there. Usually a fifteen minute wait just to be able to place your order. His preferred Half Caf Espresso with a Orange shot was filling and caffeine filled. The pretty waitress there flirted with him the whole time slipping him her number and if he wasn't a homosexual, he would have been ecstatic. When he made it to the University Professor Brightman posted their advanced Bio Chemistry marks for the term and he was top of his class again. Since he was given the internship with Brightman four years ago, he learned so much about the wool pulled over the eyes of the world.

On his way home the traffic was still going his way and when he made it back to his flat his flatmate repaid the hundred pounds Marcus had lent her. He then proceeded to his boyfriend's flat for dinner for their three month anniversary. They had a wonderful candlelit meal and dessert was even better; They made passionate love and he was completely sated.

Then his mobile rang.

It was really supposed to be a good day he thought as he stood outside the dilapidated building. Looking up at the sky at the moon he muttered to himself.

"I hate magic."

As he walked into the building, the lights were so dim he very nearly walked into a homeless man sleeping on the tile near the exit. He entered the lift and hit the basement button. He then had to wait at least ten seconds for it to start moving and fifteen more before the broken speakers buzzed out lift music. When the lift doors opened with a loud ding, he was blinded by the bright lights of 'D', Evans' black custom Aprilia Pegaso RS125.

"That's really bright Dee," Marcus moaned as he shielded his eyes.

"My apologies Mister Marcus Sir," the bike responded.

"It's okay, Evans there?" Marcus asked as he walk to the bike.

"He is home Mister Marcus Sir," D. answered back.

He walked over to the door marked B1, and open the key pad near the door frame and entered the deactivation code. The cool computerized voice came out from the speaker didn't surprise him, after all, he put it there.

"Name?" a cool computerized voice asked.

"Marcus," he said as he rolled his eyes.

"Name?" it said in a harsh tone.

"Verdandi, open this door right now," Marcus gritted out.

"How am I supposed to know who you are, if you do not say?" the computerized voice quipped.

"Maybe the Biometrics you took the moment I got on the lift," He answered and there was silence for a bit.

"Name?"

"Verdandi..." He said frustrated.

"No. That is my assigned designation, Neison Olivier Research Network Node: Verdandi." Verdandi said.

"Please just let me in," he pleaded.

"He is tired and he has just fallen asleep," Verdandi pleaded and Marcus' patience was over. "Please someone else can do it. Do not send him."

"Doctor Marcus Mathias Johnson: Madscientist," Marcus said in a steady voice, "Yggdrassil, Command Line: Give me back my Union Jack," saying the pass code to shut down the NORNN's A.I. "Command:Open door and go back to the main server," he said finally in controlled voice.

"Voice pattern recognition confirmed. Access granted," a different hollow sounding voice said and the door swung open.

He opened the door an walked through living room of the flat to the back room. He really didn't want to do that to Verdandi, but she and her sisters are always so protective of Evans. Imagine that, three of the most advanced Artificial Intelligence programs in the world completely wrapped around his finger. Cheeky bastard. When he got to the bedroom the door was cracked open somewhat and he noticed the hall light on. 'I mean really,' he thought. 'Bad Arse Super Soldier', afraid of the dark.' As he pushed the door that went into the bedroom the light from the hall illuminated the room. He looked about the well furnished room and saw that it was a utter mess, 'This is why,' he thought wryly, 'You don't let children live by themselves.' He looked around seeing a mess of duvets piled on the bed and at the top of the bed it was a mass of messy jet black hair.

"WAKE up Evans. We have another mission," Marcus bellowed and flipped the light.

At Marcus' first syllable the person in the bed sprung awake, becoming a blur of motion. Rolling out of the bed taking the duvets with him and falling on the floor with a loud thud. A load groan a moment later confirmed he was awake. The figure stood up revealing a boy of about sixteen with strikingly viridian eyes that glared at him while he laugh out loud.

"We just got back."

"I know. Get dressed. We've work to do."

The boy dropped his blankets revealing his nude form, Marcus looked away as fast as he could but the image of his hanging bits were now burned into his retinas. Marcus turned around leaning on the door jamb. He forgot about the boy's modesty, or lack thereof.

"Evans," Marcus growled.

"What is it?" the boy ask with false concern in his voice.

"Put some clothes on."

"I'm going," he said as he breezed by Marcus, still naked, headed for washroom. When the door closed to the bathroom Marcus busied himself by beginning to pick up about the room. As he picked up the fallen duvets he noticed three things: They were made of a layer of Kevlar synthetic Dragon Hide bi weave. His pillow had a damp spot on them, meaning he just got out of the shower and finally, there were two semi automatic pistol handles sticking from under the bed. He looked under the bed seeing a intricate pattern of floor mirrors designed for aiming.

He gulped, realising he'd forgotten how dangerous his young associate was. He left the room and sat down on a loveseat in the lounge area, he tried shaking his head ,trying to clear the images of pistol fire and morbid thoughts. Just as he was being shot for the twentieth time Evans emerged from the washroom dressed in his black BDU outfit three minutes later. He was holding a pair of combat boots and his hair still damp providing a very overall nice image to Marcus.

"Next time, warn a bloke that your in the buff," Marcus told Evans as he sat Indian style and slipped his boots on.

"I thought you said I wasn't your type," Evans replied as he laced his boots up, with a face that told Marcus that the teasing has begun.

"Your not, but I still don't want to look at your pasty arse," Marcus retorted as the boy stood pressing an electrical outlet causing the wall next to it slide open.

"Oh! I get it. Gettin a stiffy from lookin at me bum eh?" The boy asked as he removed his tactical vest. Already loaded up, geared and ready to go it seemed.

"What!" Marcus exclaimed while the boy pulled out his tranquilizer pistol and placed it in his leg holster.

"You know I would love to help with that but..." Evans said as he looked Marcus in the eyes.

"Shut your gob," Marcus commanded.

"I'm just not into guys," Evans said as he turned back to getting his supplies.

"Fuckin' wanker."

"For you information I don't, nor do I feel the need to, wank off thank you very much," He called over his shoulder.

"Oh really," Marcus said sarcastically as he sat at the computer.

"Yes really," He responded.

"Okay. Fine. Let's just stop and you finished getting ready."

"Cause you know," He continued ignoring Marcus, "Ronnie keeps at me, fancies another ride she does. So, I don't need to wank off," He turned back to Marcus with a lecherous grin.

"Okay I get it," Marcus pleaded as he logged on the computer.

"She can do it for me."

"Okay. I'm going to throw up now. Eeurgh," Marcus faked gagged while the boy laughed, "Wait a tic. I thought we were going to keep as far away from 'Most Psychotic Bint from the Darkest Fathoms of Hell' as possible. You really gonna start back up a relationship with her?"

"One swallow doesn't make her my girlfriend," The youth replied with a lecherous grin while getting his last minute supplies.

"Why would you go back to sleeping with her again?" Marcus asked.

"Well, she does this thing with her tongue-"

"Stop!" Marcus interrupted, "Just forget it."

"Okay then," Evans said brightly placing his balisong in his vest, "Give me the rundown."

"You want a team on this?"

"I'd rather work alone."

"I can ring Himalaya to ask someone," Marcus said.

"Leave Denise out of this, she told me Abby woke up to the flu today."

"You need a team, all this solo shite ain't healthy," Marcus said, "You know what happened to Gungnir and Vili was..."

"Leave it," he interrupted coldly, indicating he was very much through with the current subject "Now, give me the rundown please."

"It seems," Marcus said giving up on the topic for now, "That 'they' are causing a situation in 'their' community. 'He's' given us info on these people. It's dodgy at best. And it seems that this can cause a major problem for us. So it's apparently up to you since your the closest asset we have and most wizards are too lazy to get off there arses try to stop them," Marcus briefed, "All of the information I have, I just downloaded into your helmet's hard drive, you can use its Head-mounted Display."

"So tell me. Where are they?" Evans interrupted.

"It seems they are preforming a life draining ritual on the surrounding humans..." Marcus continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"Where are they?" The boy interrupted again.

"Area, so that they can boost a Thaumatic Energy Core..."

"Where are they?" as he looked toward the ceiling.

"… by at least by two hundred percent."

"Where are they?"

"It's important that you stop this. Smash first and Grab if you can."

"Where are they?"

"Thaumalogical Resonance Survey..."

"Where are they?"

"… indication is eight, so it can be either eight Craft or one really powerful one."

"Where are they?"

"If it's one Craft, do not engage."

"Where are they?"

"At a pitch in Hillingdon."

"Finally..." The boy said disapparating with a small pop and moment later a second muffled crack sounded indicating that he must have grabbed his bike. Two minutes later his mobile rang as Marcus made it back to his car after he locked up.

"What?" Marcus answered.

"You do that on purpose," Evan's voice came through with the roar of his engine hummed in the background.

"Do what?" Marcus feigned ignorance.

"Ignore me," The boy said as he merged onto the M4.

"I do not," Marcus countered.

"You do so," Evans argued back as he did a wheelie when he accelerated.

"Fine I do," Marcus conceded, "But, if you don't have all the information, I have to listen to you take the mickey out of me for at least a full week because you hair-brained scheme fell apart in the middle of a op. So I give you all the info, so when your scheme falls through, you have enough info to create another hair brained scheme."

"Oh. My. God!" Evans exclaimed as he swerved around a lorry.

"What happened?" Marcus asked worriedly.

"I never knew you cared," Evans deadpanned.

"I swear to god Evans."

"Are you in love with me?" Evans asked.

"I'm gonna kill you."

"You are. Oh my. This is so unexpected."

"Evans I swear to God."

"I'm sorry but, I can't return your feelings. I only see you as a older brother."

"Get back here, so I can knock your block off."

"Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

"I really hate you."

"I love you too, my chocolate shirt lifter. Gotta go."

"You're such an arsehole sometimes, you know that. Be careful."

"No worries eh. Nothing gonna go wrong."

TBC

Reviews appreciated.