Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter or Mass Effect. They belong to J.K. Rowling and BioWare respectively. I do this because its enjoyable.

Lowering his choice of beverage, a Jack Daniels, Harry James Potter rolled the flavor around in his mouth before swallowing, wishing more and more for the taste of a butterbeer from his misplaced youth. That or pumpkin juice.

Shaking his head and giving a short nod to Doran, whom was joining a few patrons on the dance floor, Harry ignored the hushed whispers going on across from him by other patrons, listening to the pings of the Quasar machines, indicating another winner much to their delight, and another loser, much to their chagrin and frustration.

Personally he never found the appeal in gambling one's money, despite Dorin's insistence that it was a favorable pastime. His life, he could and would most certainly gamble with. He had been gambling with that for the better part of two hundred years. His affairs with the goblins, if nothing else, taught him not to trust his money with anybody aside from himself. Which was why he had Hermione monitoring his multiple bank accounts. Volus bankers reminded him too much of goblins, and it had nothing to do with their comparable height. In fact, he wondered who would win in a fight, goblins or volus? Decisions, decisions…

Harry shook himself from his thoughts as Hermione emerged from his Omni-Tool, a frown on her virtual features, arms crossed, and a dangerous glint in her eyes he had seen only when he, and by extension, Weasely, had said or done something incredibly stupid.

"Your employer is on his way to see you Harry." The venom the word 'employer' left her lips with showed how much disgust she had for the man in question.

He in response gave a curt nod before shutting the link down. Hermione, one who always tried to show respect and civility towards a person at all times or whenever possible, did not bother to mask her dislike, no, hate for the man who was currently paying his paycheck.

This said a lot about his character if nothing else and he'd be smart if he listened to her unspoken warning. Of course he wasn't particularly smart or sensible anyway outside of which end of the gun to hold, so what did he care?

He again stomped his conscious from rearing its unwanted head. That bloody thing had been starting to pop up more often, and it was getting irritating.

Instead, he found his thoughts wondering to an individual whom Hermione would probably approve as a possible employer, though he used the word rather loosely seeing as he probably wouldn't have been anything for his services to the man aside from food and board.

Commander John Shepard. A man awarded the Star of Terra for his miraculous organization and defense of the densely human populated planet of Elysium from an armada of pirates and slavers, now more commonly known as the Savior of the Citadel, and by proxy, the Council, born to both Hannah and Jason Shepard on April 11th, 2154. Graduate of the N7 Special Forces, first Human Spectre, and acting commander of the revolutionary and state of the art frigate constructed by both human and turian ingenuity, the SSV Normandy SR-1.

Slowly, almost with a hint of reverence, if not respect and admiration, he recounted all of the man's exploits since he had been inducted into the Spectres. From his tactical approach on Feros in saving Zhu's Hope and destroying the Thorian, to his callous actions on corporate Noveria and his utter despise of their seeded politics, to Virmire and his destruction of its krogan cloning facility, before finally going to Illos, against orders, both from the Systems Alliance and the Council. The battle that followed was left unspoken.

Of course, not ever was there a story involving a hero of any sort that was filled with nothing but good decisions and no consequence. He could attest to that more than anybody. Hard battles were fought and people were lost, such as Kaidan Alenko. Truthfully, he didn't know the first thing about the man, aside from the fact that he was a Marine and held the rank of Staff Lieutenant. A little digging revealed he was a biotic, an L2, which was surprising considering how crippling those implants were. His interest piped, he dug a little deeper, and found him to be one of the first kids convinced to join the BAaT. He knew only second hand stories, but if they were to be believed, then he was glad that the program had closed down and replaced with the Ascension program.

And he was getting carried away again with his thoughts. Regardless, it really didn't hold any relevance. The man was dead, sacrificed his life in order to set the nuclear bomb on Virmire off and to ensure the Normandy and its crew could escape. It was a decision that all leaders in any combat situation has to make, and Harry did not envy the Commander for it. Sympathetic was more like it.

He frowned as he remembered the Commander's latest assignment, involving chasing nonexistent geth in the Terminus System. Whatever geth that had been in the system would have fled once Sovereign, the Reaper as it was also known as was destroyed. With no leader, and hopelessly outmatched, the only logical option was a retreat. If it were him, Harry would look into the missing colonies within the same system. While most attributed it to the colony disappearances to batarian slavers, Harry knew better. Batarian's liked to advertise their work, especially if the colony they were attacking was human. And if an attack had occurred, some distress signal would have been sent, but their disappearances were only noted after a few days of radio silence.

He took a small sip from his bottle as his thoughts moved more towards more recent news, the biggest being the unfortunate death of former Alliance Ambassador, and newly elected Council seat for humanity, Donnel Udina. His death sparked already heavy tensions between humans and the other Council races to flare into a bonfire. Humans, already pushing for a seat on the Council during its introduction into galactic politics, were more than angry at the death of their newly elected Council seat. They were downright murderous.

Riots broke out on the Wards, reaching as far as the front doors of the Council itself as it made it all the way to the Presidium. Demands were made for the killer to be found and brought to justice, and when not only C-Sec, but the STG brought up no possible leads, speculations that it was the Council itself that was responsible for Udina's death began to arise. Accusations of the Council using one of their Spectre agents to do the deed, and protecting them much as they had with their former rogue agent Saren and his attack on the human colony Eden Prime, spread like wildfire, the Council's already weakened positions due to the geth attack only a few months prior, quickly crumbling. As a result, efforts were doubled to capture the culprit, the individual believed to be the trigger man for the assassination, an antihuman zealot, whom soon gave an account number via credit chit which led to a private holding belonging to the Turian Councilor, Valeom.

The outrage, from humans, turians, asari, and salarians alike, caused whatever sanctimonious image that the Council had to die a rather painful if not quick death instantaneously. The scandal, as it were, in which Valeom, who had made it clear that he was not an advocate in humanity or its problems, caused already tense turian/human relations from the First Contact War to deteriorate that much further. Pro-Human groups such as Terra Firma, whom were already gaining a stronger foothold in politics, readily made itself known as an alternate political group separate from the Alliance. The response to its promises of human only agendas and lack of care to "appease" the various races within the Citadel was meet with high recruitment numbers and funding. The Alliance, despite pushing former Captian turned Admiral, and then assistant for Udina, David Anderson, to the position of Council seat, lost a bit of its support, both from civilians and some of its financial backers. It no longer stood as infallible, this fact only cemented by the high death toll of Fifth Fleet released to the public during Sovereign's destructive raid.

All of which had gone according to his employer's plan. Granted, Harry himself didn't see the majority of the man's scheme, and had pegged him as just another politician trying to get ahead. Calculating, cold hearted, and furthermore, ruthless, this was the type of man Harry had despised as a child, and had grown to respect after his long life.

That isn't to say he trusted the man. He didn't, at all. It all boiled down to the fact that the man could and would if the end result was to his satisfaction, move a lot of credits. And he said a lot of credits; he meant enough to start about fifteen colonies out in the Traverse with additional on planet and orbital defenses.

And that still would leave his coffers overflowing with credits.

Of course such an act wasn't in the man's best interests. Though it probably would solve the whole disappearing colonies fiasco, or, at the very least, give the Alliance some time to mobilize and send out a response.

His train of thought broke as he noticed said man walk inside the club, his eyes meeting his as soon as he stepped foot within the threshold, making his way through the crowded dance floors, their gazes never breaking. 'Speak of the devil…'

The man stopped at his table and stood before him, a pair of human bodyguards dressed in Colossus Armor, armed with nothing but a pair of pistols. Undoubtedly the rest of their weapons were confiscated at the entrance and were only allowed their pistols, and even that was no doubt done reluctantly. The bodyguards didn't look special aside from their fancy armor. No doubt ex-Alliance who sold their allegiance for a steady paycheck or a couple of mercs who were merely looking for their next big score. It was his employer who had his full attention.

The man in question was tall, round at about 6'2. He was dressed rather modestly in comparison to his usual attire, wearing a rather generic suit instead of his usual Giuli Vorn designer. Still that didn't take anything away from him as he still radiated an imposing demeanor, nor did it take away from his regality.

His face looked to be chiseled from stone from his stoic expression, his features aristocrat in nature, featuring a strong chin, high cheek bones, sharp nose, thin lips, and a pair of cold grey blue eyes. His hair was dark black, with speckles of brown thrown in from the obstruct lighting of the club, edges crisped with grey and a well trimmed and kept goatee gracing his lower face. Wrinkles aside from those surrounding his eyes were absent, almost as if the notion of old age did not have any meaning to him, and his body reflected that.

"You did well Mr. Potter. Much better than I expected really."

Harry in response merely raised his beer in the air in a mock toast towards the man whom addressed him. If he were anyone else, he was certain he would have been killed by the sheer mordacity of the act.

"I simply do the job I'm paid for sir. Though I will admit, I did not see the full scope of your plan until only a few days ago. All that aside, I trust your trip from Earth was pleasant enough?"

The man gave a subtly snort at the question, almost as if insulted by the question in itself.

"Indeed it was. Always room for improvement of course, civilian ships while made for luxury are not ideal for VIP's such as myself, or even you Mr. Potter, but any one of my private ships would have raised red flags to a few individuals I do not wish to know of my presence within the system at this time."

Harry in response merely raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion at the man's question. "At this time? You wish for your enemies to know you are in the system? I would think that a man of your caliber would want to stay low if that were the case, or do you some private army located in an undisclosed area waiting for attack orders perhaps?"

The man smiled in response. A hundred years ago, it would have sent violent chills down Harry's spine. Not it just made him feel…twitchy.

"As sarcastic as ever, Mr. Potter. It assures me that you are still the confident young man that I hired to deliver that special package to Omega those few years ago."

Harry merely tilted his head in acknowledgement of the statement. "And of course, I learned to always check the packages I am to deliver to ensure they are not a mass effect field bomb, and that the receiver of the package is not AriaT'Lok. The bright side to that particular assignment is that you don't have to go back to Omega ever again, whether you want to or not. Fear of being shot, killed, tortured, and all that."

The man did not respond to his statement, though the slight flicker in his eyes showed that he was slightly angered by the comment, but had let it slide. It was a blow to the man's ego and pride to have been bested by anyone. The fact that it was an Asari only rubbed salt onto the wound.

"So I take it you aren't here just to offer me congratulations for a job well done, are you? Because if so, no thanks are necessary, the credits were thank you enough."

The man gave another one of those tightlipped smiles, onyx eyes gazing at him, trying to pierce him to the wall. He reached within his pressed suit, revealing a datapad before sliding over to him, his eyes never leaving Harry's own emerald.

"I have another job for you Mr. Potter. After this, I will have no more need of your services. The payment I believe you will find quite sufficient, and following its success, I have some contacts within the Alliance that could use a man of your talents if you're looking for a much higher cliental list."

Sliding the datapad closer towards him, Harry skimmed through the information provided before looking directly into his employer's eyes. Images of a baby held within a swaddle came to the forefront, followed by a young, beautiful teenage girl, dressed in a form fitting white strapless dress, sitting on a table before standing up and pulling a Predator out and firing, ended by feelings of anger, betrayal, pride, and a desire for revenge and murder.

He pulled out of the man's mind slowly, gathering what he needed as he pushed the datapad off to the side before looking directly at the man before him, his expression blank with an inner turmoil storming in his mind. As promising as the man's words were for future clients, especially those within the Alliance, he was uncertain if he was truly capable of keeping his word. Not that he lacked the resources to do so, or the contacts, but rather, Harry could see him gaining very little from doing so.

This hadn't been the first time Harry had looked into the man's mind, nor has it been the first time that he had seen those images. Usually he had only sensed the anger associated with those memories, always being at the back of the man's mind, but always present enough within his thoughts that Harry could glance at them without the man feeling him running through his mind. This was the first time he felt any other emotions that associated with those images, nor the thoughts that came with them.

It left him on edge slightly at how far and sick this man truly was, but at the same time, it also made him sympathetic. A good man he was not, but he had a brilliance and wit that he didn't see many posses today. An exceptional man, if not egomaniacal and arrogant to a fault. If it weren't for the man's twisted desires and equally frightening state of mind, Harry might have tentatively called him a friend, or at the very least, an acquaintance, perhaps an ally.

Unfortunately the realities of dreams were illusions built by one's personal wants and desires. And he vehemently pushed his wants and desires, his dreams that he had wanted, still wanted, as a child into the far corner of his mind, closing the door behind him and metaphorically throwing away the key. He would dwell on those thoughts another time, preferably when he was smashed to the point where a female krogan would start to look like good company for the night.

At the very least he wouldn't remember those somber thoughts and feelings associated with them the following morning.

Leaning forward, and strangling the little voice in his head that said he was going to regret this, which he did so happily when it started to sound like a certain annoying greasy haired bat, Harry folded his hands in front of his chin before looking the man sitting before him right in the eyes, unwavering.

"I accept."

Two Weeks Later: Crescent Nebula, Tasale System, Illium, Nos Astra Commerical Spaceport; 0900, Earth Standard Time…

Stepping out of the gunship, Harry took a look around the cargo area they were in, not even sparing the men and women that stepped out beside him a glance, their golden armor and black insignia designating their allegiance to Eclipse. He'd almost rather deal with the Blue Suns then these…less then reputable men and women. At the very least they didn't have such obnoxious egos, and he could at least expect them to be honest and upfront about whatever future betrayal they might or might not have planned for him. One of the reasons he didn't like that bitch Wasea was because she had shot him point blank with a modded shotgun to the chest after his first assignment here, not wanting to 'share a paycheck' with him.

…maybe that little revenge scheme he had in his head could be implemented a little early? Make it look like an accident? His thoughts broke at the heavy footfalls behind him, a heavy accented voice breaking the silence that had permitted the hanger since the engines cut off, the only sound being the footsteps of Eclipse mercenaries surveying the area.

"The last time I was surrounded by Eclipse like this was back when I made a few runs back in the Traverse. Sodding bastards were hired by the same employer as me and my men. Didn't think we could handle the job probably. Either that or the Eclipse offered him a cheaper rate for cheaper service. Didn't rightly matter though. Blew them and the ship we were hired to take down clear out of fuckin' sky. Paid the slimly bastard a visit afterwards though. Suffice to say, poor slob never hired my services again, nor anyone else's for that matter."

Harry turned his head slightly, a roguish grin crossing his face as an physically imposing figure stood beside him, his only working eye scanning the room, his fake prostatic eye unmoving, staring blankly in one direction. Unnerving to some, and frightening to most, Harry thought it was the most badass thing he ever saw. And that was saying something, with two hundred years or so under his built. And the wicked looking scar that marred half the man's face was a nice added touch to finish off the whole one man army look, not including his decade's old armor, riddled with burn marks and holes from both mass accelerator weapons and knives.

He rubbed at his faint lightning bolt scar, and felt slightly subconscious. Never a fan of it to begin with, it gave him a whole new reason to scowl at it once his eyes yet again glanced to his companions face.

Why couldn't he have a wicked looking scar too? After all, some women were attracted to that weren't they?

"Some, though most of those are krogan. Maybe a few turians thrown in for variety."

…shit. He said that out loud, didn't he?

His companion's slight grin did nothing to reassure him that his assessment in that notion was wrong.

"Fuck you Massani."

"Don't swing that Potter, though if you're desperate, there's this little place down in the lower city called Azure and I'm sure they'll have something to your tastes as questionable as they may be."

"…I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Made it all the more entertaining for me, kid."

Muttering about old smart mouthed bastards, Harry walked down the ramp of the gunship, Zaeed Massani giving a small chuckle at his lack of response.

Zaeed Massani. Harry had met the man some many years ago while he was starting out as a mercenary. He had signed up with him on his first mission, which had been to take out some turian frigate right after the First Contact War had ended. Lost the entire squad aside from the two of them, but they had managed to blew the entire thing to pieces. From then on, they become friends, comrades, and old war veterans. Harry had been there when Zaeed had founded the Blue Suns, and had nursed the bastards sorry ass back to health after Vido Santiago, the backstabbing little shit that he was, had shot him in the head.

Zaeed also knew Harry's secret. Not that he was magical, that particular secret he was going to carry with him to the grave, whenever that particular day ended up being a year from now or three hundred years. No, what he knew was that Harry was old, old enough to make Zaeed look like a toddler in comparison. In terms of how, he let the man draw his own conclusions, ranging from advanced cybernetics to genetic cloning. The technology did exist at the time after all, even if it was just limited to sheep and dogs.

It wasn't lying, not really. Harry just didn't have the heart to correct him. Nothing bad in that right?

He again crushed his conscious under the heel of his boot, imaging it to be a certain blonde haired ferret albino which added a new vigor to his mental stomping.

'Too bad I didn't discover Kill the Furry Little Animal until after the little bastard died. Would have been fun asking him to play.'

Regardless, he shook the thought off, leaving his conscious to bleed out and crawl somewhere in a ditch to recover, before checking his weapons, ensuring they were in proper working order.

It didn't take long for his mind to wonder again, this time towards his current assignment, and in particular, the contact his employer had set up that would lead to his new target that he had to 'rescue'.

All he had to do was convince the contact that revealing his employer's assignment priority would be beneficial.

And, in all honesty, it didn't take much from Harry's end to get the contact that his employer listed to cooperate. Rarely wanting to expose his magical abilities since there are things that even science and biotics couldn't explain, his usual means of information gathering was out. Not that it wouldn't have been impossible for him to simply extract the information he required from the man's mind and make him simply forget their little encounter, but he knew the man was being watched, both literally and figuratively. His financial accounts, daily extranet logs, work schedule, everything. At the slightest hint of betrayal on the contact's part, he was sure that the 'kidnapper' of his current target would undoubtedly find out within days, if not hours, and thereby send a 'response' to deal with the betrayal.

The question of course, was how she would deal with the man in question. The contact would no doubt plead his case, as most Benedict Arnold's do. He never cared for the American of the same name, though he did love the breakfast. He was sure the man would state a forced confession, perhaps at gun point or something as equally as repugnant. Personally, for him anyway, he felt that if you had to resort to straight out violence to get what you wanted, then in his opinion, you were no better than a petty thug. Menacing, sure, he could understand. Intimidation? Hell, he was an advent Batman fan if that gave his opinion on that matter any credence. But in all honesty, he was more of James Bond type of guy. Why threaten when you can seduce and concord? Or that could be just his inner country man coming out or general preference to anything and everything British. America coffee had nothing on a proper Englishmen herbal tea.

Regardless, he was able to get the man to give up information on his target's location rather easily. He only had to play to the man's past, needling him somewhat on his upbringing, reminding him of his family's poverty during his youth and running quite a few numbers by him that ended in quite a bit of zeroes. To that end, he asked him if given the chance, wouldn't he want to save a child from a miserable childhood much like his own?

And much like the simple, cowardly, and greedy man he was, he took the deal offered to him. You would think that after spending something close to twenty years of friendship with an individual would shed some light on a person's character and motives, but apparently that wasn't the case. He did not question his friend's reasons for her subsequent kidnapping, nor did he question why his employer wanted the target back. He didn't even think on the fact that the girl in question wasn't even a baby anymore, let alone a child, and that she had grown up knowing the love of her family now, biological or not. Add to that his naïve belief that money actually bought happiness, in addition to the fact that the friend in question had lived within close proximity the first fifteen years of his life, and even with the money that his employer lavished on her, had still ran away?

It was idiocy, plain and simple, and no matter how much he may think otherwise, the man wasn't doing this for the good of a young woman he believed, despite the facts otherwise, of being a child. He was doing it to get ahead in his rather desolate life, and to get back at a woman who had been nothing but kind and a good friend to him all his life.

He was awfully tempted to just shoot the man and be done with it, but he figured that would be too good for him, at least for the moment. Seeing him torn asunder and realizing how much of a fool he was before his life ended would be a much satisfying end. He only wished he was this vindictive some one hundred and fifty years back. Would have made his confrontation with the youngest Weasely male that much more satisfying at the time.

Breaking his thoughts and injecting a thermal clip into his M-9 Tempest and making sure his M-8 assault rifle was properly strapped to his back, he gave Zaeed a glance, momentarily appraising him for combat before called the attention the remaining mercenaries, activating his scouter and making sure it was reading him accurate targeting information before he addressed his men, as expendable as they were.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen, let's explain the ground rules. We are here for one thing and one thing only. I can assume that the majority of you have at least read the mission schematics that were handed out on the way here, and if not, at least took the time to ask one of your teammates for the information?"

He gave no visible reaction as few mercs fidgeted to the side a bit, while others obviously didn't care for a single thing he was saying. Others just ignored him. They were hired guns after all, and their jobs were simply to shoot and kill. Any planning or tactical skills were above their pay grade.

And Harry was content with that, but he was not about to have a bunch of witless morons ruin his reputation he spent years working on. When he took a job, he not only completed it, but did so with little to no causalities, with all possible leads destroyed and all investigations made by the local authorities fruitless. He took pride in his work, which was why he only worked for the few instead of the many like the Blue Suns, Eclipse, and the Blood Pack. He often compared himself to the likes of Keji Okuta and the infamous Kasumi Goto. Both were the best in the business of thievery, and both were unknown as a whole and only known by a select few.

And this job would be no different.

"In case you haven't however; let me give you all a reminder. We are here for a young woman, age seventeen, named Oriana Benson. She lives in a modest apartment complex with her mother and father outside of Illium. We are here to secure, capture and nothing else. No harm is to come to the parents nor the target, or any civilians that may be caught in any eventual crossfire. The reason you are all here is to simply provide security and if the time comes, a sizeable combat force. I will be blunt with you right now. I honestly don't give a flying fuck whether any of you live to see tomorrow. And among the majority of you, I can see the feeling is mutual. Here's the kicker though. You are being paid by my employer, and the man left me in charge, and while under my leadership, you will follow the above stated guidelines. Failure to do so will render my immediate displeasure and swift retribution, unfortunately in your case resulting in untimely death."

It was here that Harry smiled, his eyes flashing blood red long enough for every single mercenary in the room to capture the color shift before he reverted them back to his usual green.

"I assure you, it will not be swift or kind to you. You will bleed, you will cry, you will try to bargain, you will beg for mercy, and eventually, you will ask me to kill you to make the pain stop. And I, being the merciful man that I am, will oblige."

He noted among the many Eclipse whom still had yet to put on their helmets or decided to forgo one, looked pale, clammy, and above all else, afraid. Afraid of him.

He gave a lopsided grin before gesturing to a few Eclipse mercenaries before him, watching with amusement as they flinched as he pointed at them, before saying, "You four with me. Zaeed, you as well. And pick a squad of your own. The rest of you are to remain here and secure the cargo bay and transport station. Evacuate all civilians from the sector and nonessential staff. I have little doubt a firefight will break out at some point, and I sincerely hope that none of you wish to harm any innocent bystanders, now do you?"

Many shook their heads, several shouting disapproval at the idea before they scrambled to secure the cargo bay as instructed before moving throughout the rest of the spaceport, following his instructions.

Coming up to his side, a cigar lit between his lips, Zaeed bit out between puffs of smoke, "Bunch of pansies, the lot of them. They'll about looked ready to damn near about piss themselves. I did like the scare tactic though."

Waving his hand and blowing the smoke away from his face, Harry grabbed the cigar between Zaeed's lips and crushed it under his heel before he replied, "I thought it was a nice touch myself. Now enough chitchat. If we're fast enough, we may actually get the girl and be off this pretty and pink version of Omega by sundown."

Growling slightly at his cigar now in ashes and pieces at his feet, Zaeed merely grunted in response before saying, "Alright then. Maybe then I could actually have a smoke without you ruining it."

"Keep dreaming Zaeed, keep dreaming."

It had been four hours since Harry had left the hanger bay, and all he could say was that he was getting annoyed.

Not at how long it was taking to find the girl, point of the matter was that he had found her half an hour ago, volunteering her time in some outreach program for human colonies. She was busy lifting supply crates with three other volunteers onto transports and helping see to donations from credits to nonessential items.

No, what got him annoyed and walking in damn circles was the freaking shadows he had on his back, all dressed inconspicuously, some as civilians, and others as law enforcement, staying a respectable, or so they thought, distance from him.

So far, he counted eleven, all armed. Six were civilians from appearance, and were at least armed with pistols and a kinetic generator. The other five however were law enforcement, and saw at least three armed with an assault rifle and shotgun. Another had a sniper rifle and SMG, while the last one simply had a single pistol on his belt.

Typically, he would have had Zaeed handle them, or killed them himself at this point, but they were still in a densely populated area, and he didn't want any innocent civilians to get in the crossfire. That, and he didn't want one of them slipping into the crowd and blend in, undoubtedly relaying a message to his secondary target if she were to show up, which she would if she caught wind of what was happening, along with an army of highly trained commandos.

As good as a fight as it would be, he rather liked his spotless record and preferred to keep it that way.

Stepping into a side alley, Harry gave a small sigh of relief as he noted it lead further down into an abandoned building. A perfect place to leave a quite a few rotting corpses and the perfect opportunity to hone his skill set with his newly dubbed guinea pigs.

Killing said guinea pigs that had been annoying him for the past three and a half hours was just the icing on the cake.

Stepping inside, Harry let a smirk spread across his lips before leaning into the shadows, disappearing from view.

'Let the games begin…'

Katherine had grown up knowing two things.

Might didn't make right, and aliens weren't better than humans.

The first she quickly realized was incorrect. Might did make right. She saw it for herself on Elysium during her brief service in the Alliance military. She had been one of the reinforcements dropped groundside after the Alliance had picked up on the planet's distress signal. The second lesson she learned while searching the empty houses and destroyed buildings, trying to find survivors among the screaming, blood, and fire.

Aliens weren't better than humans. They were fucking worse than humans.

Children, staring blankly in front of them as their parents bodies laid in front of them, blood pouring from numerous bullet wounds, back streaked with welts and lacerations, evidence of torture, some violated in ways that made her throw up the minute she got a look at them…

All to prove that humans weren't as tough as they thought they were? To teach humanity a pathetic lesson about knowing their place in the galaxy as subservient to the other races of the galaxy?

It was on that day that Katherine Armando decided that aliens were the scourge of the galaxy. And she didn't give a rat's ass what the Alliance said otherwise.

Her only regret was that she had resigned from service before the Alliance's counterattack on Tonfon, an assignment she would have gladly volunteered for if only to show those fucking batarians why humans deserved to be so feared.

As it stood though, she had quit, read about the heavy losses and the horrendous, according to the reports anyway, executions of all captured prisoners.

Good riddance she had said.

That had gotten her fired from her desk job in retaliation for her, quote on quote, "Xenophobic behavior".

Not that she had cared initially. Damn alien appeaser. Terra Firma had the right idea with the Alliance's bullshit political agenda.

Regardless, no matter her thoughts or personal opinions, she still had bills to pay, her military pension wasn't going to last her long, and nobody was willing to hire a 'xenophobe' unless they themselves were xenophobic, and nobody was stupid enough to admit that aloud, let alone hire someone who was.

Things were starting to look desperate until she heard of an organization that was looking for new recruits. A former Alliance black ops operation turned rogue, now a well funded and more importantly, to her anyway, anti alien organization.

Cerberus.

Upon her interview, if one could call sending an encrypted message detailing all her knowledge, combat experience, weapon expertise, and former Alliance history to an unknown carrier, she had been contacted later that day with an offer she had to have been stupid to refuse.

A new job, a new home, on a new planet out in the Terminus System, away from Alliance red tape and fighting the good fight for the betterment of humanity? Hell yes!

Though she was excited initially for the new job, she soon got bored when all she spent her time doing was basically glorified security detail on numerous bases across the galaxy, hoping from one planet to another.

And then she got landed her with a bunch of other Cerberus lackeys, having to guard some damn teenage girl, the sister to one of the Illusive Man's pets she vaguely recalled, from anybody who may try to harm her.

For three months she been stuck working as one of Ilium's armed security forces, more notably being the Nos Astra Police Department, watching over some bratty teenage girl while handling ridiculous complaints about red sand licensing, to indentured servants complaining about their unfair contracts, to scruples merchants double dealing their customers. It came down to shooting her own brains out or the next whining little bitch that walked through her office door!

And then, mercifully, the call came in from the Illusive Man himself.

Somebody had tracked the girl to Ilium.

They were not to leave the planet alive.

Of course, that was what she had been told anyway. There was probably more that Intelligence Officer had neglected to tell her, but that was IOs for you. They had all the relevant info, but refused to share it until absolutely necessary.

Bastards.

More to the point, she and a group of ten other 'Watchers' as they had dubbed themselves, had been tracking this one guy for the better part of three, nearly four hours now.

They had noticed him heading right for their assigned VIP before stopping short, noticing undoubtedly one or two of them looking straight at him. At that point he had moved along, pretending he wasn't going towards her before changing direction and heading down the busy and crowded streets.

He was trying to lose them, an amateurish tactic. Especially considering he was wearing rather expensive looking armor in a sea of casually dressed civilians. He stood out like a krogan at a turian only bar.

In addition, the man was alone, and from what she could see, barely armed, wielding only a pistol and assault rifle.

If nothing else, she at least get a bit of action, even if all it was involved holding the trigger of her assault rifle at a single target with the rest of her squad acting similarly.

She gave an irritated huff before she and her group of Cerberus operatives moved into the empty building their query had ran into, pulling out their respective weapons and activating their kinetic barriers.

Once inside, she shifted her gaze from side to side, noticing the lack of cover, and the decaying structure. Whatever this place had been created for, she hadn't the slightest clue, though from the large empty space before her, she guessed it was once a warehouse of sorts.

Which begged the question…

"Where the fuck did he go?"

She heard a company of voices from her fellow employees, but ignored them for the fact that the question was not only rhetorical, but also that she really didn't give a damn what their answers were. It obviously wasn't a tactical cloak, as rare as they were, as their omni-tools had built in scanners that would have alerted them to such a device.

She moved forward, her teammates following as they remained in a tight group, leaving no openings, and she silently fumed, the irritating thought of the man they were tracking somehow giving them the slip causing her blood to boil.

'I swear if that bastard got away, I'm gonna-!'

That was her last thought before a flash of green light flew from the surrounding darkness, bypassing through her shields and striking her in the chest.

She was dead before she even hit the floor.

Harry leaned his head out from the corner of the ceiling he had perched himself on, emerald green eyes narrowing into slits as he watched the now ten remaining men and women assemble themselves into groups of fives before spreading out through the building, weapons drawn and aiming at ever nock and cranny their eyes stumbled upon, leaving the corpse of their fallen comrade where it laid.

All it did was make him smile before he leaned back into the shadows, obscuring himself from sight.

With sticking charms still in place, Harry scaled the ceiling, approaching one group heading to the upper floors, pausing over a broken shaft that was once an elevator.

'Now this has some potential…'

Quickly moving inside, he scaled the walls until he had a decent vantage point looking down into the open doorway leading into the shaft, taking care to keep himself hidden away from any prying flashlights or glow lights that those idiots might have been carrying.

Harry waited until the group had turned before conjuring a single rock and tossing it down the shaft, the click and clank sound it made drawing a lone man's attention as he attempted to catch up with the group.

Raising his assault rifle the man walked slowly back to the shaft. Harry tensed his legs, waiting patiently for the man to get closer. One he was only a single step from falling within the shafts depths, looking over the ledge with his rifle aiming downwards, he struck.

Leaping down like a predator, Harry wrapped his kneecaps around the man's neck, giving him a quick grin before twisting his legs, snapping his neck before flipping over him, kicking his now dead corpse down the elevator shaft, making it a point to give a small wince at the slightly squelch that he heard upon the body's impact to the ground below.

Two down, nine to go.

Harry moved with catlike grace, shifting from shadow to shadow; eyes watching what were once nervous and cautious movements from the once eleven individuals, into a fitful frenzy of only five.

He had been at it for fifteen minutes already, and almost been caught twice, both times due to a bit of carelessness on his part then to any skills this group of guns for hire may or may not have had.

He shifted along the rusted and slightly crumbling structure, eyes still trained on the group, specifically one in particular. Young, probably no older than twenty, and undoubtedly a rookie if the way he was shaking and the improper handling of his weapon said anything.

He'd make it quick for him

Hand outstretched slightly, he aimed at the nervous man, feeling a small twinge of regret at what he was about to do.

At the very least, he wasn't going to feel any pain.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Harry murmured two words, infinitely famous once in his life, and being the cause of so much grief in his previous youth.

"Avada Kedavra…"

A blast of green light shot from his hand, striking the young man in the back, causing him to fall forward, his gun failing from his hands before his lifeless body crumbled into a boneless heap on the floor.

The remaing four immediately whirled around, their guns aimed directly at him, causing Harry to curse slightly as his last attack gave him away before the group opened fire.

Dropping down to the floor, Harry avoided the initial burst of fire, and once he landed on the ground, ran full speed towards his still firing enemies, weaving his way through the hall of fire, his kinetic barriers absorbing what he couldn't avoid.

Once close enough to the group, Harry through up a shield charm, watching it nearly falter as it absorbed a shotgun blast before raising his hand up, surrounding in biotics, lifting the man high into the air, his shotgun falling from his grasp.

Harry immediately dodged to the right, narrowly avoiding a burst of assault rifle fire, striking the offender in the stomach and neck in quick succession before rising himself on his hands, striking with both armored feet another Cerberus operative in the chin, whom had raised his pistol in an effort to strike Harry in the back of the head.

Rolling himself in a ball, and straddling the man he had initially struck, Harry quickly grabbed him around the chin and top of his skull before giving a sharp twist, breaking the man's neck.

Moving swiftly, Harry grabbed the abandoned shotgun, bringing it up and bearing on the last of the group, a woman, wielding a sniper rifle, its barrel passing right by his right shoulder, his recently acquired shotgun leveled one handed in front of her face.

He had enough time to register the look of utter surprise on her face with a twinge of fear before he pulled the trigger, watching as blood, mangled flesh, as well as brain matter flew across the floor, some of it speckling his armor and the shotgun he had in hand.

Tossing it the shotgun to the side after ejecting the spent thermal clip, Harry turned his gaze back to the man he had hit with his feet, watching as he stumbled to stand up, mouth bleeding and a look of panic on his face.

Aiming his hand to the right, he sent a silent overpowered Incendio at the released form of his first target, whom had fallen from the air from his biotic attack.

His green eyes never left the struggling man's, even as the screams of his dying ally filled the room and broke the heavy silence between them.

What felt like an old western stare down that felt like hours, but was only a few seconds, followed between the two before they both acted, the sole surviving Cerberus operative raising his pistol, and Harry dashing forward before jumping a short distance into the air.

Swinging his foot, Harry kicked the pistol out of the man's hand before landing on his feet, his head leaning back before he slammed it full force into his opponents unguarded and surprised face.

He heard, and felt his skull collide harshly with the man's nose, the sickening crunch and slight splash of warm liquid dripping down his forehead telling him that he had broken it.

Fist poised, he slammed it into the man's stomach, before giving a swift jab with his other to his cheek, kneeing him in the stomach as a follow up before slamming his elbow into the man's neck, sending him crashing to the ground, groaning in pain as he scrambled to detach his shotgun from his waist.

Once he did, he turned into, finger a hair away from pulling the trigger only to find Harry gone.

Scrambling to his feet, blooding pouring down his shattered nose, swerved his weapon from side to side, sweat working its way down his face as he tried in vain to find the man responsible for the death of his entire squad.

"Son of a-! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU BASTARD?"

The man didn't get a response, not that he really expected one, and turned his head to meet the emerald green eyes of one highly amused Harry Potter.

"I'm here."

He didn't get a chance to scream as Harry pressed the Predator he had in hand against the man's throat, the very same that he had knocked out of his grasp earlier, bypassing his shield completely before pulling the trigger, punching a solid hole through his throat before he fell to the floor, chocking on his own blood for all of about five seconds before laying silent.

Tossing his relinquished weapon to the side, Harry took a look around his surroundings, counting the number of bodies present, before nodding his head in a satisfactory motion.

Ten bodies, not including the one he sent down the abandoned shaft.

Maybe it should have bothered him that he killed ten people trying to do their jobs, whether or not they cared about the girl they were supposed to protect or not.

Then again, he wasn't an ignorant seventeen year old boy anymore. Regardless, whether or not they were just doing their jobs or not, he was doing his, and they simply got in the way.

A rationalization, and a crappy one at that, but he could already feel the signs of his conscious rearing its unwanted voice again in the back of his mind. Despite knowing that the world wasn't as black and white as he had been lead to believe all his young life, remnants of that mindset still remained, and he'd just have to deal.

Assuring himself that he had all his weaponry magnetically hooked to his armor and belt, closed his eyes, and with a soft 'pop', disappeared from sight.

Arriving within the general area of the volunteer center that he had found Oriana at, Harry found the young teenage girl walking out of the building, talking to a salarian, or rather listening. The salarian was doing all the talking; Oriana was listening patiently and with rapt fascination from what he could see.

Silently casting an invisibility charm on himself, Harry kept them in his sights and followed, making sure he was no more than a meter away, taking time to place an additional notice-me-not and silencing charm on his person, rendering his footsteps not only silent, but repelling all passerby from bumping into him and giving him a wide berth.

It was only some odd minutes later that Oriana and the salarian parted ways, and Harry removed the invisibility charm before moving in for the kill, his notice-me-not charm still forcing all passerby to ignore his presence.

He made it three feet within her personal space, watching the salarian part and walk towards a public transport station before making his move.

Reaching for his M-4 Shuriken, he pressed it against the young woman's back, his lips next to her ear as she instinctively turned rigid, her first impulse undoubtedly to scream, perhaps run, but his hand pressed on her waist prevented her from moving.

"Don't move, don't speak. Now there are two ways this can go," he whispered. "You can keep your silence and walk with me to the spaceport, or I can have two squads of Eclipse mercenaries storm the streets, kill innocent lives, before finding your parents and putting them down like dogs. Now, what will it be?"

The girl, still clearly shaken, remained perfectly still, and Harry slowly removed his hand, the girl keeping her lips sealed tight and eyes focused forward.

'Smart girl.'

With a slight gesture to the surrounding buildings, he watched as a flash of light from the waning sun answered him before he gently prodded Oriana forward, watching as Zaeed, perched with a sniper rifle in hand, signaled for the other Eclipse to follow after him.

It was time they got off this planet.

Nos Astra Spaceport, Ilium…

Arriving at the spaceport, Harry was mildly impressed with the complete lack of personal in the building, and mentally applauded the Eclipse mercenaries he had left behind for following his orders so quickly and thoroughly.

Giving a brief nod of acknowledgement to the guards posted at the entrance to the hanger, Harry went inside, holding Oriana by the arm, leading her inside, her form sticking close to his own, as she glanced wearily and fearfully at the large group of mercenaries littering the area, and making it a point to put as much distance between herself and Zaeed.

Find the transport shuttle, Harry made a gesture for the squad of Eclipse to break off before taking himself, the acquired target, and Zaeed towards the ship.

Harry had only just began leading Oriana into the transport when the hanger doors opened, and three gunships entering, each having a symbol of a black diamond shaped hexagon encased by a pair of gold brackets. All had their mass accelerator weapons online and trained on them. Before a fight could break out, the elevator in front of them opened up, revealing a single woman leading a group of twenty heavily armored, as well as armed, shock troopers towards his position.

Obviously the Eclipse didn't do as proficient job as he had thought.

The woman in question had pale porcelain skin, shoulder length black hair, ice blue eyes, slender nose, and full lips. Her figure, encased by nothing but a leather white suit, did nothing to hide her voluptuous figure, and if Harry was a lesser man, or not even on assignment, he probably would have been struck speechless by her sheer beauty alone.

As it were however, he knew who she was. Sixteen years from the memory he had of her from his employer, he could easily see the young girl who had pulled a gun out on her father in the middle of dinner before shooting him standing right in front of him.

"Ms. Lawson. I didn't expect for you to arrive here so quickly. I had actually hoped we would have been long gone before your rather untimely arrival."

She never faltered in her stride towards him, nor did she recognize what he said or respond to him until they were mere meters from each other.

"I trust since you know who I am, than you must know what I came for."

Her eyes which were as cold as the frozen wasteland of Norvina softened only for a brief second as she made eye contact with Oriana before returning to his own, hardening once more.

Harry merely nodded his head once in response, discreetly giving a signal to the Eclipse Heavies to arm themselves.

"Then let's make this easy shall we? Give Oriana to me, and you all walk out and get to report to my father about his failure yet again to reclaim his precious dynasty."

The woman's tone, which had been slightly cultured with her rather noticeable accent, had clipped and turned short by the end of her sentence, leaving no doubt that this woman truly did have not only the will, but the metaphorical balls to have a shoot out with her father with a baby in hand while in a dress and high heels.

If only they weren't on opposite sides of the playing field…

"Or," Harry interjected. "We take the girl, you walk away now, and nobody has to get hurt. You don't know me Ms. Lawson, which puts you at a very distinct disadvantage. Attempt to push beyond this fine line that separates us, and the consequences will be dire, I can assure you."

She didn't reply to his alternate solution, eyes already scanning the group of mercenaries surrounding her, no doubt trying to assess weaknesses and possible exploits.

Her eyes stopped momentarily on Massani, appraising him slightly as a threat, before her eyes again settled on his own.

"Not an option. I'm sure you can understand after all the effort I put in ensuring that my father would never be able to locate Oriana."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Which brings me to my current question of how he was able to find her? I made sure to keep all ends regarding her family and location tied and kept secret. Only the Illusive Man knows of her exact location, in addition to the protection units that he put in place."

It was here that Harry gave a bit of a smirk, certain that this would no doubt tip the scales in his favor.

"Niket actually."

Miranda looked shocked at the identity of her betrayer, and that shock turned to anger as she growled, "No, Niket wouldn't do that! He knows how my father is!"

"And that is exactly why it makes it all the more painful over the fact that he gave us the location to your sister's whereabouts. He couldn't tell your father directly, your spy programs, and yes, your father knows they're there; he just leaves them to indulge you. So he contacts your father through a few secure channels that even Cerberus couldn't break, and your father then hired me."

He watched as Miranda looked conflicted with the information, trying to come up with any number of scenarios in which Niket, her longtime childhood friend would never give up the location of her sister.

Harry decided to break that train of thought permanently by opening a comm. channel, bringing up Niket's secure line that he had provided the man in the event that he needed more information on the target.

"Niket? Do you read, over?"

The hanger was silent and thick with tension as Miranda waited patiently, and somewhat anxiously for the voice of whom she had considered a friend, but slowly starting to believe otherwise, answer.

Her wait was short.

"Potter? Is this you? Why are you calling? Did you find Oriana yet? Is she on the transport?"

Harry felt a small wave of pity run through him at the sight of Miranda's heartbroken expression. This feeling only grew heavier as he saw a few tears leak through her eyes and trail down her cheeks. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but it would give her a target to go after once this was all said and done. It would actually allow her father to keep the credits meant to be transferred to the rat's account, and it would save him the trouble of actually having to kill him personally. It wasn't as if his employer was actually going to pay the man after all…

"Not yet, just verifying her location with you one last time before we move in."

"Uh, right then. Like is said, she should be at that volunteer program down in the lower wards of Nos Astra. If not there, then she'd more than likely be at her foster family's apartment complex. I'll send you the exact location if you need it."

Ignoring Miranda's expression of hurt and betrayal, reminding him too much of his own expression those many years ago, Harry muttered, "That won't be necessary. Potter out."

Lowering his arm, his omni-tool's holographic interface disappearing for the moment, Harry looked calmly at Miranda, watching her struggle to regain her composure. To his right, Zaeed still had her head placed directly between his sights, and Oriana was looking at her with an expression akin to wonder and confusion. Again, he was mildly impressed with the girl's resilience.

Allowing a small amount of sympathy to breach his hardened resolve, Harry's facial expression softened as he gave the Cerberus Officer a genuine look of sorrow.

'For what it's worth Operative Lawson, I am sorry.'

His features hardened in a second, just as Miranda looked at him, anger, betrayal, and hatred burning within her ice blue eyes.

He twitched his right index finger.

Both Heavies fired, their missiles colliding with the lead gunship, knocking its starboard thruster out, sending it tumbling to the right, crashing harshly with the gunship on its left side, leaving them both to erupt a large explosion of fire and scrap metal. At the same time, Zaeed fired, his round crashing into Miranda's kinetic barrier, her shields flashing around her briefly registering that the shot and hit.

Almost instantly, the entire hold was alight with weapon fire, Miranda and her commandos taking defensive positions behind various crates littered across the floor while their last remaining gunship gave them covering fire, activating their kinetic barriers, rendering the missiles launched at it from the Eclipse Heavies temporarily ineffective. The rest of his ground forces took up cover of their own, returning fire while a few techs sent out combat drones.

Harry himself pushed Oriana inside their shuttle, gesturing for Zaeed to follow him, whom had taken a position at the bottom ramp of the ship after his first shot had failed, a Razor VII in hand, drilling several slugs into the heads of various Cerberus operatives who had been a bit careless in leaving themselves exposed.

"Zaeed, get your wrinkly arse in the ship! We are leaving!"

As Zaeed stood to follow his order, a blast of biotic energy struck him, depleting his shields heavily. He turned around, sniper rifle already collapsed and returned to his back, a pistol in hand aiming for the individual who took a shoot at his back, only to see a missile speeding directly towards him.

He swore before raising his arms to his face in a means to protect himself, already judging that his surprise at the unexpected attack had already cost him the few precious seconds he needed to get himself to dodge.

Harry, also surprised by such a brutal tactic threw a hastily conjured shield charm in front of the aged mercenary, the missile colliding with it and exploding on impact. The shield had enough power to block the brunt of the attack, but the shockwave from such a close range still bypassed, sending Zaeed flying back, the skin of his arms severally burnt from the heat.

To the man's credit, he didn't react to the pain, merely gave a grunt of acknowledgement at the searing and blistering skin before he slipped some medi-gel on, sealing the air out of the wound and covering it was a protective salve.

Pushing Oriana inside the ship, he ducked as a mass accelerator round speed right by his head, landing on his hands and stomach before pushing himself up vertically, M-4 in one hand before releasing a barrage of heavily modded rounds at the Cerberus agent whom and snuck behind him, watching as the rounds tore through the man's shields, a startled scream escaping the man's lips before they impacted his armor, forcing him to back out of the ship for cover.

He never got the chance as Zaeed ran a combat knife through the small open space of the man's neck between his armor and helmet, digging into the man's soft tissue before brutally tearing the blade out, blood spilling from the open wound like a river, spraying the wall with a sharp line of red in the process.

Nodding towards him in silent thanks, Harry pushed Oriana down onto the nearest seat, strapping her in as securely as possible before gesturing for Zaeed to take the seat adjacent from her.

He was about to do so without a word of complaint before he was surrounded by a dark bluish glow of energy.

He swore as he was pulled out of the transport by biotic energy, flung across the room at a pair of black heel shoes. He didn't get a chance to look up, or even draw a weapon before he was thrown into the air again, before slamming heavily onto the ground, clenching his teeth to keep the cry of pain that would have otherwise escaped his lips.

He felt himself rise in the air again, and glared angrily at the Miranda, who had an equally, if not more so, angrier expression.

Reaching for his sidearm, Zaeed was able to whip it out and get a single shot off, watching as it collide with her kinetic barrier before she gave a swift kick, knocking it from his hand before delivering a similar strike towards his chin.

The seasoned veteran mercenary grabbed the foot before it collide, and gave it a sharp tug, pulling Miranda off her last remaining foot and unto her back before Zaeed, showing that his muscles weren't just for show, lifted her in the air, spinning in a circle several times before releasing her, sending her tumbling across the room.

As she landed, he reached for his belt of grenades, pulling out his own original incendiary grenades, before tossing one at her quickly, but clumsily, rising form.

He let a grim expression cross his face as soon as it exploded at her position, fully expecting to hear high-pitched feminine screams, but heard nothing but silence.

It unnerved and worried him.

Pulling out his assault rifle, he was only able to take a single step before he felt something slam into his chest, and gave a strangled cry as he landed harshly on his back, noting the woman walking out of the flames, biotic energy flaring around, eyes dark with emotion, and looked like an avenging angel in every sense.

He raised his assault rifle, and gave a strangled curse as she raised an enclosed fist, dark energy circulating through his weapon before it exploded in his hands, shrapnel breaking through his ceramic armor, several impeding themselves into the skin of his face before he felt a strong grip encircle around his neck, and raise him into the air.

Slipping his combat knife into his hand, just as Zaeed was about to strike the bitch through her ribs and into her black heart, something blurred by his vision, tackling the woman and causing him to fall flat on his ass.

Still clutching his knife in hand, Zaeed turned his gaze and saw Harry and Miranda in a wrestling match of sorts, each one trying to get the advantage over the other.

Harry had taken the woman by surprise with his tackle, and hand managed to hold one of her arms down while struggling to pry her other hand from the collar of his armor, which she had grabbed in an attempt to throw him off of her.

He swore as he felt her slip under his defenses, planting her feet on his stomach before kicking him off of her, jumping to her feet, Harry doing likewise, raising his arm just in time to block an overhead strike from his newest adversary.

He gave a grunt as he felt her grab his arm and pulled him towards her, raising her leg and striking him in the stomach, sliding her leg in-between his own and flipping him harshly on his back. Slightly dazed, Harry narrowly avoided the heeled boot crashing down where his head had been laying seconds ago, scrambling to his feet, holding himself in a defensive stance, waiting for the woman's next move.

He was surprised as she pulled out her pistol once more and fired, an idiotic tactic at such close range. Missing her initial shot, Harry had moved in closer to her grabbing her wrist which wielded the weapon before giving it a twist, forcing her to let go.

What he didn't expect was the elbow to the chin, forearm strike to his throat, followed by as solid right to his face, causing him to spin slightly, as she bent down and picked up her gun, doing a leg sweep in the process and forcing him down onto the ground once more.

Groaning, Harry watched as Miranda, not taking her eyes off of him, raised her leg up and gave a sharp kick backwards, striking Zaeed in the chin and sending him tumbling backwards onto the floor, whom had tried sneaking up on her, his knife still in hand before her free hand glowed with dark energy, casting a similar glow over his own body.

As she clenched her hand into a fist, Harry gritted his teeth as he felt his armor start to crumple and shred, bits and pieces puncturing his skin before he felt an additional force propel him forwards, crashing headlong into Zaeed, who had been attempting to stand and continue the fight.

Skidding across the hanger floor, both stopped short as they collided roughly with a crate, sending it onto its side, breaking it open in the process and spilling its contents.

Harry was barely able to get a good look at the objects in question before he grabbed Zaeed, arm over his shoulder as he ran, or rather stumbled as there were still black spots in his vision just as he heard several rounds of a SMG fire, striking the floor where he had just been lying.

And where he and his old friend were lying was now a knee deep pile of serviceable grenades.

Harry again felt the ground leave his feet as the intense heat and shockwave from the blast sent him and the former Blue Suns founder into the air, crashing into another crate, this time shattering right through before landing haphazardly on the ground.

Waiting for the spots to clear out of his vision, Harry felt his own dark energy swirl around him in a vortex before jumping to his feet, giving a war cry as he sent a wave of biotic energy from his arm and into the ground, heading directly for Miranda and a small group of Cerberus commandos following after her.

She stopped immediately, bending down to her knees as a biotic barrier instantly covered her, though he saw her knees buckle slightly from the sheer ferocity of the attack, let alone the power that he had put behind it.

The commandos however, had gone flying in various directions, crying out in pain as most received various injuries from internal bleeding to broken bones.

And he didn't stop there.

Still glowing in dark energy, he gave a roar as he sent a blast of pure eezoo, ripping the floor apart and destroying everything in its path.

Miranda remained still kneeling, her barrier solidifying even further, its dark bluish tint turning purple, nearly black, before the tremendous force of energy Harry had sent collided with her. Her barrier held up for twenty seconds before it fell, sending her reeling back, crashing into several cargo crates before hitting the wall on the far side of the hanger, nearly breaking right through, instead leaving a heavy indentation before slumping to the ground, motionless.

Panting heavily, and feeling sweat breaking down his forehead and neck, Harry shakily rose to his knees before moving forward, first at a stumbling walk, then a run.

Raising one hand, he used an levitating charm, lifting the woman slightly in the air, and watched as she rose from the ground boneless, before raising his other hand, dark energy swirling in a chaotic and slightly uncontrolled mass before he gave a battle cry, swinging his fist forward, releasing a biotic shockwave full force and at close range at the Cerberus Loyalist.

The attack caused an intense shockwave, which shoot Miranda's prone form through the wall, easily tearing through the metal, flying out into the main lobby of the spaceport, crashing through several deactivated glass displays, weapon detectors, before landing, creating a five inch deep trench within the ground, a trail of blood mixing with the strangled metal and electrical wiring underneath.

Falling to his knees briefly, Harry raised a shivering hand to his forehead, wiping the cold sweat that had broken out, before feeling something drip down his nose and hit his lips.

Wiping it away quickly and finding it to be blood, Harry rose to his feet before backtracking to the transport, finding Zaeed struggling to stand up on his own power, Harry grunted with effort as he helped onto his feet.

"Those years starting to catch up to you old friend?"

Zaeed merely grunted in response, tossing another of his grenades into the air, striking a group of commandos hiding behind a few crates, setting them aflame.

"Jus' shut up and get to the goddamn ship. I need a fuckin' smoke, the shit you put me through."

Acknowledging his complaint with a shrug of his shoulders, Harry helped Zaeed hobble towards the transport, taking care of any Eclipse or Cerberus Commando that got in his way. At this point, the whole place and its current inhabitants were just dead weight to him.

Walking inside the ramp, and helping Zaeed into his seat, Harry only paused to look at Oriana, whom had remained in the confines of the ship, eyes darting wildly between him and Zaeed and their heavily disheveled forms. She made small noises, close to whimpers but not quite, whenever a particularly loud explosion rocked the hanger, or when one of the opposing forces screamed out in pain.

Everyone had their limits he supposed…

Reaching the pilot seat, Harry gave a frustrated growl as the man was slumped over, blood leaking from the back of his helmet. The round that he had dodged earlier had apparently found a new target. Grabbing the body with his biotics flaring, he threw the pilot's limp corpse to the side, jumping into his seat before initiating take off procedures.

It was only after he had managed to get them out of the hanger admist the destruction going on around them did Harry allow himself to relax slightly as he, Zaeed, and Oriana made it out of the hanger turned battlefield, ignoring the fly of mass accelerator rounds that bounced off harmlessly against the hull.

It may not have been as quiet and quick as he usually preferred, but he still accomplished his mission objective. He could rest for the moment.

He berated himself seconds later for becoming so lax.

Dropping from the ceiling rafters of the transport, Miranda landed with catlike grace between Oriana and Zaeed, causing the girl to shriek in surprise, and Zaeed to curse in frustration.

Bloody, Cerberus issued cat suit in ruins, revealing the light ceramic plates underneath, most trashed beyond recognition, Miranda gave Zaeed a swift but solid kick to the head, dazing him before grabbing her pistol from her waist, and bashing it into his skull, knocking him out cold.

Not even hesitating, she aimed at Harry, who was still piloting the ship, and fired.

The rounds missed him, but it was only seconds after the controls started to become nonresponsive that he realized that the woman wasn't aiming for him to begin with.

Feeling the ship tilt, Harry was about to try and regain control when he saw Miranda attempting to get Oriana out of her seat, struggling with the harness keeping her strapped in, while at the same time trying to get the poor girl to relax.

And he simply couldn't allow that to happen, now could he?

Using Accio, Harry summoned the woman towards him, causing her to crash right into the controls next to him and her to land haphazardly in the copilot seat.

He didn't have time to celebrate his victory before Miranda lashed out with her foot, hitting him right in the head, causing his scouter to shatter before he retaliated with a Bombarda, knocking her backwards and into the side of the ship, once more sending it off course.

Proximity alerts going off, Harry once more attempted to gain control of the ship, ignoring the VI's annoying and clinical call of various system failures.

'As if I didn't already know!'

His frustration only grew as Oriana began to scream from the transports soon downward spinning after it collided with something, a fire soon breaking out within the auxiliary tanks.

Harry swore as the controls blow underneath his finger tips, Oriana's screams reaching a crescendo as her older sister's biotics flared as she recovered from his last attack, slamming into his side as she attempted to take the controls, Zaeed still knocked unconscious. He gritted his teeth as the fire started to break out more heavily, the smoke blinding him slightly, alarms still sounding within the confines of the transport ship as it started to lose altitude, Miranda still trying to reach the controls amidst a few strikes they traded.

Tired with the progress he was making, as well as Miranda's constant interference, he, with a wave his hand, he sent a Banishing Curse at her, sending her reeling to the right, tilting the direction the ship was facing while giving him some breathing space.

It was a move he soon regretted as he saw the Nos Astra markets coming closer to his line of sight, which was not a good thing.

Trying to pull out of the dive, Harry swore as the controls merely refused to cooperate, and continued to nosedive to the streets below. It did not help his case when Miranda again jumped him, sending a biotic fueled fist to his face, nearly breaking his jaw in the process.

By the time he was able to get her off of him once more, this time with a biotic fueled punch of his own, he found himself and the rest of the occupants of the gunship only a mere nine yards from the ground.

He swore.

Miranda braced herself.

Oriana covered her eyes and screamed once more.

Then there was nothing but pain and fire.

His eyes were heavy, and his head was pounding. Not to mention the constant buzz in his ears, and the annoying wet and sticky liquid that seemed to coat the left side of his face. And the slightly metallic taste in his mouth wasn't helping matters.

As far as he could tell, something heavy and hot was on top of him, his chest specifically, and it was getting harder for him to breath. He couldn't move either of his legs without feeling an intense amount of pain, and he couldn't even feel his left arm at the moment. The only reassurance he had was that it was still attached to his body, which was more then he could ask for at the present moment.

Opening his eyes, he shut at the bright flames that crossed his vision, also noting with his brief glance the charred remains of what was undoubtedly unsuspecting shoppers who had no idea they're lives were about to end only a few short minutes ago.

He knew that because he could still hear the screaming of not only the dying and injured, but also those lucky enough to escape the crash, chattering and crying out hysterically.

Reaching for the ear piece he had in his scouter, which was nothing but scrap at the present moment, he opened a comm. channel, his voice ragged and raspy from the smoke he was inhaling.

"Hermione? Damnit…Hermione, answer me damnit!"

"-arry? Harry, are you there? What's going on? There's a live feed of the transport crashing into the market street area!"

As if the headache he had couldn't have gotten worse! "Fuck! Hermione, the transfer went to hell! Crazy Cerberus bitch fucking stowaway on the bloody transport and sabotaged the controls! We crashed here on Nos Astra and I need an evac! I've lost visual on both the target and Zaeed! Tap into the security feeds and intercept all calls to the local authorities! See if there are any visuals, and get me another vehicle for pickup, and have a med team on standby!"

"Understood."

Crawling out of the rubble around him, and ripping the useless piece of scrap metal that was once a scouter off his ear, and casting a few pain numbing charms and giving himself a shot of adrenaline, Harry shakily stood to his feet before casting his eyes around, looking for Oriana.

Lucky enough for him, considering how shitty it had been the past thirty minutes or so, he found her unharmed save for a nasty cut on her forehead. Her clothes and skin had some ash on them, and her hair looked frazzled and singed, but otherwise, she looked fine.

Zaeed he was grateful to see was not that far from here, still unconscious.

He winced in sympathy as the man's right arm was bent in a very odd angle, as well as the very large piece of shrapnel protruding from his left leg.

That leaves only…

A cold, searing anger filled his veins as his eyes scanned the area, trying to find the woman who in any other situation he would have admired for her tenacity and will.

Now he just wanted to see her dead.

Finding a familiar mash of white and black to his right, Harry's eyes narrowed into slits as he found Miranda Lawson, still alive, patches of her uniform torn and bloody, as well as heavily burned, crawl towards a heavy pistol, a Head Cannon to be more précised.

Even injured as she was, she was still ready and willing to continue the fight. He would have to change that, and quickly.

Reaching the woman, Harry kicked the Head Cannon out of her reach before slamming his foot down on her temple, hoping to knock her out. She anticipated the move however, grabbing his armored foot and giving it a sharp twist, forcing a cry of pain to escape his lips as he toppled over to the side, Miranda body already straddling his as her hands glowing in a dark blackish blue signaling her biotics before they wrapped around his neck, attempting to choke the life out of him.

Unable to break her grip and unfocused by the pain his right foot was in, grabbed her by the collar of her uniform, surprising her for a second before pulling her down, forcing her forehead to collide with his own, dazing them both but serving the purpose of getting her to loosen her grip.

Pressing his already slim advantage, Harry slammed a right hook into her face, knocking her backwards and onto the ground, an audible crack resounding as his fist connect with her cheek.

Scrambling to his feet, he straddled her this time, raining blow after blow on her body, her arms raised above her in a feeble attempt to protect herself. It more than likely didn't do her any good seeing as he was wearing solid armor and she was wearing what honestly looked like plain leather. Stylish and perhaps effective in a skirmish where her flexibility was a must, but useless in all out brawl in terms of protection.

Much like now.

His gloved hands and armored forearms were already covered in Miranda's blood, and through her feeble guard, had already caused several deep cuts to sprout around her attractive face.

Stopping his fists short, he reached under her arms, grabbing her collar once more before jerking her forward, slamming her head back into the ground, causing a loud sickening crack to sound off once her head made contact, no doubt giving her a concussion at the very least.

Striking out with his fist once more, this time on her temple, he stood up reaching over for his M-4 Shuriken, attached to his waist, gritting his teeth as he felt a powerful kick strike him in the stomach, causing him to stumble back before Miranda threw herself at him, sending him tumbling to the ground, his Shuriken flying out of his hands.

He bit back a moan of pain as Miranda grabbed the inside collar of his armor, swinging her fist against his cheek, bruising the bone with the first strike, and breaking it with the second. Before a third could collide, Harry jerked his head to the side, her fist striking the steel ground beneath them, shattering it and leaving a small impact crater.

Grabbing her fist, which he noticed was shrouded with dark energy; Harry gave a low growl as he struggled to hold her fist back, his cheek burning with pain, his pain numbing charms weakening, reminding him rather irritably of his busted legs and his still numb, if not still usable arm.

Placing both of his feet on her stomach, and surrounding in dark energy himself, he gave a howl of pain as he kicked Miranda off of him, sending her tumbling arse over kettle before pushing his upper body up, sending a nonverbal Reducto towards her quickly recovering form.

He watched as it slammed into her chest, sending her flying, tearing right through her shields and jumpsuit, leaving a deep bleeding wound in her abdomen before she crushed through a market vendor stall, a trail of blood marking her flight.

Wincing at the pain of standing, Harry summoned his pistol back to his hand, hobbling towards Miranda, taking note of approaching sirens that Hermione had warned him that were coming, amidst her yelling of how reckless he was and how lucky he was that he hadn't been killed, before stopping short, Miranda struggling to stand up, hands clasped on her stomach, blood pouring rather liberally from the wound.

"Well congratulations are in order Ms. Lawson. You are the first person to royally fuck up my perfect record. Years of carefully planning, ingenuity, sheer brilliance, all thrown to the fucking four winds!"

Ejecting the spent thermal clip in his gun, Harry swept her off her feet as she attempted to stand, causing her to fall the ground hard before he unceremoniously kicked her in the ribs, causing a chocked gasp of pain to escape her lips before he forced her on her back.

Pressing his foot on her hand still covering her wound, he bent down, making sure to dig his foot in, causing her to clench her teeth from the pain of him aggravating her wound and crushing her fingers. Throwing his other leg over her still free arm, and making sure it was trapped firmly by his shin, he placed in a new clip, looking Miranda right in the eyes as he did so.

"I have to say, that if I weren't so rightly pissed off right now, I'd be impressed. Hell, if we meet anywhere else, I might have asked you to dinner! But now? I'll be the most fucking happiest bastard in the entire galaxy once I put a fucking bullet through your head!"

It was here as he leveled his M-4 in between her eyes that he saw how cloudy they were, the misty quality that they held that he was more than certain wasn't there a few minutes ago.

Bloody hell…is she…?

A chocked sob escaped her lips before she bit her tongue, glaring at him amidst the tears pooling from her once icy blue, now turning light shade of grey.

Shit…she is.

"Are you…crying?"

She refused to answer him, staring instead to the side, towards the unconscious body of her sister.

Harry himself couldn't believe this was happening. He was certain, positive that the woman would have stared down the barrel of his gun, defiant and strong until the very end. But this…he had gotten better at dealing with crying women sure, but this was just too much.

"Take me instead."

Harry looked at her, startled.

"What?"

She swallowed thickly, tears still falling from her eyes as her voice chocked out, "Take. Me. Instead."

Harry grip on his pistol didn't loosen, but it started to shake, his emotions chaotic within the confines of his mind.

Again, he asked rather dumbly, "What?"

Annoyance shined through her eyes; showing that strength and determination that he had admired secretly throughout their intense battle before it changed back to defeat. A sense of hopelessness and despair weighed down on her shoulders as she whispered out, "My father…he wants Oriana for her DNA. That's it. As soon as he gets what he wants, he'll kill her. I can't…"

She paused, taking a deep breath and looked at him pleadingly, begging him to understand.

"Please, if you have any mercy then leave my sister alone. Tell my father that she died in the crash or that one of the Eclipse shot and killed her. Take me instead. We share the same DNA so he gets what he wants and my sister stays safe. Just…please…"

He shouldn't be considering this. He shouldn't be considering any other options aside from the one given by his employer. He shouldn't care if this woman loved her sister to the point of sacrificing her life for hers, he shouldn't.

He looked at her eyes one last time, finding the resolve, the sadness, but least of all the hope and love that she held for that young woman lying not a few meters away from them.

MOTHERFUCKER!

Pressing the M-4 Shuriken between her eyes, Harry's shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes showing a sense of self-loathing and sadness before they hardened instantly, his posture righting itself.

"As touching as that is, I can't take that offer."

Aiming the gun at the black charred body at their side, he fired five consecutive shots at it, the sound of the bullets hitting its flesh breaking the silence like thunder throughout the abandoned plaza.

He cast his eyes towards hers and at her surprised, if not inquisitive look, said, "Your sister died in the crash and resulting fire. In your grief, you attacked me and while you put up a valiant effort, were overcome due to injuries. You were shot and killed by five consecutive rounds from a modded M-4 Shuriken, three in the torso, one in the abdomen, and the final one in the head. This is what I am going to tell your father. You are going to tell your superior that your sister and her kidnappers died during the firefight and attempted escape from the spaceport. You are the only survivor. Is that clear?"

She merely nodded her head, undoubtedly shell-shocked by what she just heard. She looked him in the eyes, mesmerized slightly before she regained her awareness as the mercenary broke the gaze, limping towards the end of the skywalk, a gunship slowly lowering from the skies, sirens from the local law enforcement now roaring loudly over the thrusters of the Mantis as it inched closer to the ground. Stopping momentarily, Harry gave a grunt of effort as he lifted the still unconscious Zaeed over his shoulder before making his way towards the gunship, taking note of the earthborn Russian as he stared in awe at the destruction around him.

Throwing himself inside and strapping Zaeed as best he could in the seat adjacent from him, Harry muttered out, "Hermione, get us the hell out of here."

Nodding her head, she activated the controls before pulling the ship up, heading for the atmosphere and the Mass Relay that would take them out of the system.

Looking down at the slowly disappearing walkway, Harry saw Miranda cradling her younger sister's head in her lap. He imagined he could almost see the love and happiness in her eyes before the gunship broke through the clouds, the cargo doors sealing themselves before they broke into deep space.

Leaning back and wincing at the pain that shot through him at the injuries, Harry closed his eyes, cursing his bloody conscious to hell and back.

"You did the right thing Harry."

He glanced at Hermione's holographic image before turning his head away and looking into the deep vastness of space.

"I know. And that's the problem."

Two Weeks Later; Flux, Upper Wards: Serpent Nebula, Citadel…

Harry stood in front of his employer, eyes never wavering from the twin icebergs staring back at him. Hands folded underneath his chin and graying beard, his fingers still adorned heavily with rings speaking of his family's vast lineage, dating back probably farther than the Spanish Inquisition, maybe further.

"So these reports are accurate then? Both my daughters are dead?"

Nodding his head, Harry replied stiffly, "Yes sir. Your youngest was accidental. Your eldest had gotten aboard as we were making our escape and unleashed her biotics, formidable as they were, and damaged the controls irreversibly. The shuttle veered off course until it crashed onto the streets of Nos Astra. Oriana did not survive the initial crash, and if she did, the subsequent explosion of the ship's mass effect core left no hope of the recovery of a body."

He nodded his head, still staring rather blankly at Harry, and he took it as a silent cue to continue.

"Following that, your eldest, whom had survived the landing and explosion by sheer luck no doubt, attacked me. Obviously she had been severely injured by the crash, and it took me little to no effort to overpower her. I ended it with five consecutive shots to the chest and head."

Another pause was made before the man spoke once more.

"And you are certain her body cannot be recovered?"

Harry gave nothing away at the man's penetrating and yet blank stare.

"No sir. The body itself is unidentifiable aside from the entry wounds I caused to kill her. The explosion from the gunship ensured that."

He didn't say anything for awhile, though the white knuckles on his hand from his tightening grip spoke volumes of the anger that was coursing through his veins like a hot boiling river of lava.

"Then it seems that I may have to start from scratch once more. Disappointing, they were both exceptionally remarkable, and I was certain they're DNA could have proved invaluable to creating the perfect dynasty."

Harry said nothing in response, already having looked at the man's surface thoughts, and pulled out almost immediately. There was nothing but a blind rage and lust for blood of a woman, whom he believed now to be dead.

He hoped that for her sake, she'd be smart enough to stay out of his way and not reveal herself anytime soon.

"As agreed, I have no more use for your services Mr. Potter. I have already forwarded all the relevant information regarding your contact address as well as your usual fee with my own recommendation to a few associates within the Alliance, and a few other more interested parties. This…dismal failure will remain between us, have no fear of that."

On that note, Harry wasn't very surprised. The man did not take failure easily or gracefully. The fact that one of his guards was missing attested to that. This incident had also made it to the extranet, and all possible traces to them both, while wiped, still left a sense of paranoia on the man.

He watched as the man, Albert Lawson, made his way out of the club without another word, his lone security guard falling behind him.

Once the man was out of sight, Harry slumped in his chair, eyes closed and a relieved grin spreading across his lips before he pulled the Predator he had in hand underneath the table back to his belt.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how that was going to play out, and he thought that being extra cautious was better than being a riddled with mass accelerator rounds.

Holstering his weapon, Harry waved over one of the waitresses, Jenna he believed, and ordered a drink before leaning back slightly, head staring up towards the ceiling.

He closed his eyes and only opened them when Jenna returned with his drink, his customary Jack Daniels before he popped the bottle open and took a long drink, placing the bottle on the coaster beside him before looking at the large group of dancers, illuminated by the flashing lights of club, his mind for the first time in a long time, thinking back on his life, and wondering, however briefly, how differently he could have done things.

Not for the first time in his long life, and most certainly not the last time either, he felt a twinge of regret speak to his soul. And, just like so many other times he had allowed these thoughts to drift to the forefront of his mind, did he crush them down, sending them to the very back of his mind, where he would have the feeble hope that they would not revisit or haunt him again.

It was a false hope, and he knew it.

He took another drink of his bottle before gesturing for another one.

Potter's Residence: Presidium, Citadel…

Collapsing on his couch, Harry gave a small groan as he sunk into the cushions, eyes already heavily hazed from all the alcohol he consumed and the mental exhaustion that had started to finally make itself known after keeping it in check for two long agonizing weeks.

The two weeks of physical recovery wasn't what was bothering him. He dealt with longer and often more painful recovery sessions. No, what bothered him was the fact that he had failed his objective. How he willingly and consciously failed his objective. Such acts of kindness, mercy, compassion…these were acts he hadn't truly done or felt since…

He slammed his fist down, putting enough force to crack the wooden table at his side, a rarity in its own right, and clenched his teeth as the pain of the splintered wood impeding inside his skin stopped those thoughts from going any further.

His time as a young naïve boy was over! He had come this far in life beating back those instinctive feelings of heroism, and he wasn't about to go and revert back to the witless boy wonder that he was those two long centuries ago.

His thoughts hazy and angry, filled with images of an aged old man with twinkling blue eyes and a skinny deformed humanoid shaped individual, no nostrils par a pair of slits and dark menacing red eyes, were broken by the chime of his private terminal, in which only a handful of people had access too.

Getting up, he found it as a request for another job, and after opening the message, Harry raised an eyebrow at the name of the person who wished to hire his services next, though admittedly, he wasn't terribly surprised. He knew sooner or later he would be working with her again, loath he was to admit it. It wasn't that he didn't like her, he didn't think there was a single person in the entire galaxy that could, but he didn't like familiarity. Familiarity lead to attachment and attachment lead to an easy target on your back for them to shove a knife through, and in some cases, quite literally. He winced slightly at the memory of his former childhood friend doing just that, and the phantom pains that came along with it. He still had the damn scar there too…

Shrugging those feelings aside, Harry opened up a comm. channel, Hermione automatically ensuring it was on a secure line as requested per his newest employer, or knowing her as did, future active participant.

"This is Potter. Speak."

"…"

Harry frowned at the silence at the other end. This was uncharacteristic for her. Usually a witty comeback or flirtatious joke meet his ears whenever she was on the other line, but dead silence?

"This is Potter. Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?"

He waited for about thirty seconds and was about to order Hermione to trace the signal on the other line when a sound much like a sob broke the silence.

"H-Harry?"

Now he was concerned. She never cried over anything. Not even when she was badly injured during one of her escapades.

"They took him Harry! They took him and I don't know where or why! And there's blood, so much-!"

"Slow down a bit and take a deep breath. Who are you talking about, and who did they take?"

"I don't know! He said he stole something dangerous, something that could get the Alliance into deep trouble! I thought he was just kidding or overreacting, but oh god! Harry please, I need your help to find him! I can't trust any of my usual contacts; you're the only one I can turn too! Please you have to help! I need you!"

Her voice was hysterical by this point, and Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to say no to her, and that this wasn't some sort of practical joke of hers.

Her next words cemented his decision.

"Harry, Keiji is gone."

/-/Author Note/-/

CursedAndTorn once more! So did anybody see that coming? Yes? No? Hopefully not, it took me a while to write this one out, if it wasn't that obvious already.

Constant rewrites, lost saves, deleted pages, I got this thing to eight-six pages or so and found the chapter still going nowhere, and reworked it, AGAIN! And my muse, my little Alice, she ran off on me! ALICE-CHAN!

…After that rather sporadic moment of insanity (stressful times we all live in after all), I like to say thank you to everyone who is still reading this story, and apologize for making everyone believe it was abandoned.

Anyway, anybody want to take a guess on who was on the line with Harry? You get one guess. XD

Also have a second HP and Mass Effect crossover written and posted. This one will feature a female Shepard though, who will be the polar opposite of the male Shepard in this story. Mainly that means she'll be mostly Renegade, Earthborn, and Ruthless. There! Your free spoiler! :D

Also, on an unrelated topic, I have a new question posted. I want to know if anyone else believes that it would be awesome if Joker could be made a squad mate, at least temporarily, by piloting one of those Atlas mechs, yes or no? Vote now!

For some odd reason, I'm rather chipper today…ah well. Remember to click the button below that says review, and leave me one! Criticism is always welcome, as stated many times before, as I do find it useful.