It was the perfect battle ground; that was the foremost thought that entered the head of eleven-year-old Harry as he stared up at Hogwarts for the first time. Yes, Harry James Manuel Potter-Darkov, Mafia Prince, had finally come to Hogwarts. But this was not the Harry the wizarding world expected. For you see, ten years ago things did not work out exactly as Albus Dumbledore would have wished. For all his cleverly worded letter to the Dursley's they did not keep their nephew and raise him but instead left him in a dark alley in the middle of the slums of London, in their stupidity forgetting to destroy the letter that the child had once again claimed in its grasp.
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Manuel Darkov was a rising name in the underworld and very few dared cross him except fools, desperate fools, and dead men. And it just so happened that the night after Halloween it was time for such a fool to pay up and this one was personal. Manuel felt content as his victim whimpered beneath his hands, life fading quickly from his scum encrusted body. With an almost reverent shove Manuel sent the corpse to the ground and turned away only to hear another whimper, but dead bodies did not whimper and the sounds were coming from the wrong direction.
Coldly the Mafia leader made his way to where the sounds originated only to find himself facing the greenest eyes he had ever seen. With a negligent hand Manuel brushed away a rat that had attempted to find a meal in soft flesh and picked the baby up, glancing briefly through the letter with the child. The reasons for his presence in the alley that night came crashing down on Darkov, the sight of his wife and child lying dead in the backseat of the limo. Raising hardened eyes to the sky Manuel Darkov clutched the child tighter and vowed to raise Harry James Potter as a Darkov and train him to accept his destiny in this cruel world. No one but himself and Harry would know the truth of Harry's birth family and the name that went with it.