This is a cross-over between Harry Potter and Campione. When Harry is five years old, he is taken from an abusive home to be raised by Hungary's compaione, Sasha Voban. When he returns six years later to study at Hogwarts, instead of a shy body doubting his self-worth, he is now a trained combatant with plenty of confidence and willingness to take control. As well as a deep seated desire to always win, even if he has to drag honor through the mud to do it.

So far I'm not certain if I will actually have Harry become a Campione. Mainly because it would stop Voldemort from being a credible enemy (since Harry would literally become god-level). If it does happen, it won't be until he is 14 at the earliest. Input on whether he should become a campione or not would be appreciated.

Since as far as I know the campione novels don't specify a year when they take place, I'm setting it so that Godou killed Verethragna in 2004. This puts Harry at the same age as Salvatore Doni, so far the only campione are Voban, Luo Hao, and Madam Aisha. The Black Prince won't become a campione until 1992, when Harry is in his second year.

Also, Wizengamot is the British Ministry of Magic's High Court/Law Passing Body/House of Lords. Witenagemot is a Europe-wide magic organization centered in London, England whose purpose is to keep Campione in check. Not that they are very good at that. Mentioning this here, because the names are really similar.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Campione, Harry Potter, or any of the characters there-in.

Prologue

July 31, 1985

The freak opened his eyes as he sat up in its uncle's cupboard. Its uncle's blanket fell off of it as it slowly opened the closet door, careful not to disturb its uncle's family's rest. It saw that it was almost six o'clock, time for it to start making breakfast.

The freak did not have a name as far as it knew. Names were for humans, and it wasn't a human as its uncle's family told him. It also didn't own anything. It was generously being lent his uncle's cupboard and blanket for it to sleep there, and its cousin's old clothes to wear.

In exchange for the untold kindness of being supplied with those as well as food and water out of its uncle's hard earned money, its job was to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, clean the house, and otherwise remain unseen. If it was good and obedient, it would even be rewarded by not being beaten by its uncle.

The freak became five years old today. It looked like a skinny four year old, male human. However, as it had been told countless times, it wasn't human. It was a freak. Freak was both its name, and what it was. It had black hair, falling down to near eye-level, emerald green eyes that stared blankly ahead, and pale white skin that would have been considered unhealthy on a human. It assumed that to be normal for a freak.

The freak was well fed, its aunt and uncle assured it, though it looked like a starving human. Bones could be seen clearly against the skin, but that was normal on a freak. It was the freak's fault that it looked like such an unhealthy human being even when it was treated so well.

It made its way to the kitchen, stumbling slightly as it went. Its legs hurt, but it ignored the pain. Mentioning the pain was complaining, and complaining was bad. If it didn't act good, it wouldn't be rewarded by not being punished. It wanted to be rewarded.

Upon entering the kitchen, it quickly made breakfast, working without a word. Today there would be a guest, a lovely and gracious woman named Aunt Marge, its uncle's sister. Because she was coming, it was to stay out of the way, so it didn't have to clean today. And so, after making breakfast for four – its Uncle Vernon, its aunt Petunia, its cousin Dudley, and its other aunt Marge – it grabbed a slice of bed, and returned to its uncle's cupboard.

It would then lie in the cupboard, eating the bread, and be a good freak. It would be quiet and not disturb its gracious and giving family, until it was noon and time to make lunch.

It was around five hours later when the cupboard was opened. It looked up to see its cousin, a healthy and upstanding gentleman and a fine example of what a boy should be. Its cousin was five years old, the same age as it, but significantly bigger. This could be seen from its cousin's clothing it had been graciously lent. Although the clothes were all at least a year old, they were still much too big, hanging loosely off of it with plenty of slack.

Its cousin made a smile that made it shudder. It recognized the smile as the smile usually given before it was punished by its cousin. It didn't understand how, but it had been a bad freak today. With a loud grunt, its cousin grabbed it, and yanked it out of the closed. It stumbled into a wall, but righted itself immediately.

Looking around it noticed that its aunt Petunia, a somewhat skinny lady of extreme beauty – so he was told – sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee, while its uncle, a large and powerful man dressed in a suit in what it understood to be a very professional manner sat net to her. Standing by the table was its aunt Marge, a woman of size comparable to its uncle.

Next to aunt Marge was a dog, specifically something it understood to be a bulldog, one of its aunt's favorites at that.

"Freak!" Its uncalled yelled. "My sister's dog needs exercise. Go make yourself useful and play with it outside."

Freak cringed. It did not enjoy playing with its aunt's dogs. The last time it had been made to "play" with one of them, it had returned to the house bleeding and crying, and had been punished for being loud, and covering the house in blood. It had taken it two whole days to clean up the house.

"Yeah freak! Go play!"

Its cousin said, roughly dragging it to the door before pushing it outside. A few seconds later, the dog followed, jumping to take a bite out of it. The freak wasn't sure how, but it managed to stumble out of the way of the dog's jump. The courtyard door was open.

It wasn't allowed to leave the garden. However, by the time it remembered this, it was already outside, running down the road, away from the dog. It could hear its family yelling for a moment, and about to follow. Suddenly the sun was blotted out, there was a strong wind, and rain started to fall. The dog followed, but the family didn't.

The freak stumbled along the road, glad to see a lack of people. It was a bad freak, but hopefully it wasn't being too bad today. It didn't want to go hungry as well. It dodged the dog three more times, never striking back. It knew striking back was futile, and that it wasn't allowed to strike back. If it did, it would no longer be playing.

It knew eventually it would be bitten. It knew it should accept this, but it couldn't. The pain was inevitable, but it wanted to delay it. As it stumbled along, it once again jumped out of the way of an attack, and stumbled to the ground, losing its balance. On the ground next to it, was a large knife. It knew it wasn't allowed to touch the knife, knew it would be punished even more for it. It also knew the dog was coming around again.

A moment later, the dog lunged at it. The freak grabbed the knife, and rolled out of the way, cutting itself on the ground in the process. It immediately regretted breaking the rules. It knew it should stop, but couldn't. I don't want to die. The thought rang through its head, even though it knew it didn't have the right to think of itself as "I".

The dog lunged again, and it grabbed a stick off the ground with its empty hand, and shoved it into the dog's mouth. I want to live! The dog growled, and then whimpered as the knife was shoved into his eyes, and through there, into its brain.

The freak let go of both the knife and the stick as the dog's body crumpled, and stumbled backwards in horror. It shouldn't have done that. It was a very bad freak.

"What is your name boy?"

The freak turned around, and saw a man standing in the rain. The man had a suit like its uncle, but did not have a massive frame like its uncle. The man was taller than its uncle, and moved with confidence, not hindered by his own body.

"Me, Freak." The freak said, pointing at itself, introducing itself the way it had been taught to. It was in a lot of trouble it realized. It had been seen by a stranger.

The stranger smiled. It was a horrible smile, it made the freak think of a beast looking at a pray. The freak slowly got up, and stood still as the man grabbed its shoulder. Now the beating would come for being a bad freak.

"I am Sasha Dejanstahl Voban. For a moment there, you had good eyes. The eyes of a wolf. You are only a wolf cub, but perhaps when you are older you will become a true wolf."

The freak didn't understand what this gentleman was saying.

"Freak isn't a good name. From today on, you can be Balor Voban, the name of a human, a wolf."

The frea- Balor nodded. He didn't know how, but he had become a human. He was no longer a freak. Perhaps now his family would treat him well?

"Well Balor, from today on I will be raising you. I frankly don't care about your family's opinion."

With that, a tornado struck down on the ground where the two of them were standing. A moment later the tornado was gone, and so were the two figures. A few seconds later, the sky was cleared, and when people went outside to take a look, they would find the body of a bulldog stabbed to death, and blood marks on the ground, along with pieces of torn clothing. However, the two humans who had been in the rain were gone.

July 31, 1986

The Freak, as he was known until a year ago, had actually been given a name by his parents before they died. That name was Harry Potter. Not that he ever knew this name.

It wasn't by accident that Harry was put with his abusive relatives who hated him because of how much better he was. When Harry was only a year old, his mother had sacrificed her life to protect him from a Dark Lord. This sacrifice had created a ward on him that would protect him from evil.

However, the ward had conditions. Namely, Harry hard to live with his mother's relatives. It only worked so long as he considered that despicable hell-hole home. Furthermore, he had to return to "home" at least once a year to renew the ward. The ward would only last for up to a year after Harry had left the place. If it was not renewed, it would permanently disappear. If it kept being renewed though, it would last until Harry turned 17.

Today it was precisely a year since Harry had left his so-called home, and never looked back. Today, at precisely 11:12am, the wards around Harry's house, as well as on him, disappeared.

Somewhere in Scotland, an old man was eating some candy called lemon drops. This man was very old, having reached the age of a hundred and five just recently. He had a beard that was perhaps even more impressive than his age, starting from just around his ears, and reaching all the way down to his belly. In fact, it was hard to tell when his hair ended, and his beard began. His body showed his age, but he still moved remarkably well for it, being able to move around without any assistance. His eyes seemed to twinkle every so often in a manner that had become his trademark signature.

He wore a long gray robe, that probably went out of style a few centuries before even he was born in the civilized world. So of course, it was the latest fashion in the wizarding world. He was sitting on a large chair in an office that could only be described as magical. It was full of pictures of old people, and the pictures were constantly moving and talking to one another. There were a variety of magical gadgets in his office that were moving around or measuring something or another.

It was one such gadget that would end his lemon drop eating session. This gadget was responsible for keeping track of the wards protecting Harry Potter. They checked to make sure that the wards were active, and, well, that is it. There really wasn't a device in here to ensure that some random person didn't walk up to Harry and shoot him in the face. Or an accidental spell didn't cut the boy in half. Just a single device ensuring that the wards protecting Harry from a certain dead Dark Lord and his non-active followers were active. After all, if a now-dead Dark Lord is not harming you, clearly you are perfectly safe.

It was this device that suddenly let out a few beeps, and then stopped working. The wizard, Albus Dumbledore, suddenly leapt out of his chair in a manner that would have broken the backs of most his age. He was at the device in an instant, and checking to find that the wards on young Harry were gone. Harry Potter was either dead, or the wards had been broken.

Dumbledore pulled out a stick from his cloak, and twirled it in the air, creating a silver bird. "The wards over young Harry are down". With that, he disappeared from where he was standing, a loud 'pop' sound filling the room. The newly created silver bird also flew off to deliver the message.

Little Whinging, Surrey was a peaceful town in England. Pivet drive was a rich area of Little Winging where nothing exciting ever happened. The most exciting even was probably when exactly a year ago, someone killed a dog. But things like a young, five year old boy being kidnapped, or anyone being abused here never happened.

It was a regular after noon here at Little Whinging, when suddenly popping sounds could be heard all over Pivet drive. First, Albus Dumbledore appeared out of thin air, followed by half a dozen witches and wizards in similarly stupid looking robes. Some were wearing pointy-hats in case the "witch and wizard" imagery wasn't clear enough.

All of them stormed up to Number 4, Pivet Drive, little stick, around a foot long held in their hands. Dumbledore swung his stick, causing the door to open, and he entered, having never slowed down. The others followed, looking around as if expecting to be attacked at any moment.

"Where is Harry Potter!"

They demanded of the residents as they stormed in, Albus and one other sitting down to talk to them while the other five scanned the house for hostiles, and the six year old boy they were looking for. They used everything from spells, to questioning, to mind reading, to good old fashioned searching every corner to try and locate the boy.

It wasn't until an hour later that they confirmed for certain that the boy had run away precisely one year ago. When they did, all of them immediately left, disappearing into the air with a popping sound to search for the boy who, although he was brought up being taught that he was utterly worthless, was in fact one of the most important people in the wizarding community.