Categories > Books > Harry Potter > King of Bandit:: Skye: Reloaded

Enter: Skye and Arrow

by Gunblade 2 reviews

Hunter Skye (Harry potter) is the Bandit King. He ran away from his home at the age of five, his parents did not like him, like they love his sister, Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived. A new adventur...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover,Fantasy,Sci-fi - Characters: Ginny,Harry,Hermione,Luna - Warnings: [V] [X] [?] - Published: 2008-09-11 - Updated: 2008-09-11 - 3626 words

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Breathe of Fire or any other, game, movie or anime I may use, and make no money from this fan fiction.

King of Bandit: Skye: Reloaded

Chapter 1 Enter: Skye and Arrow

It all started with a stupid prophesy, that is right, prophesies are stupid. It said that a child would soon be born at the end of July with the power Voldemort does not know about, and that the child will be able to kill him. That is right, ‘the’ ‘LIGHT’ decided to rely on a child.

Three children were born at the end of July, one being a boy, Neville Longbottom, the others: Twins… one girl, Rose Lily Potter, and a boy, Harry James Potter.

When Albus Dumbledore heard the stupid prophesy, he sent the Longbottom’s and Potter’s into hiding after their children were born, Neville the 30th of July. Rose and Harry on the 31st of July, though Harry was almost born in August, a few seconds longer and he would have been. Its strange how that happens: A few seconds can really determine your fate.

Soon came the fateful night: Halloween: Godric’s Hollow. That was the location the Potter’s had taken refuge, with their two children. Now any sensible hidden couple would have used themselves as ‘SECRET KEEPERS’ for the Fidelius charm, (hides a location from anyone not told the location by the person who holds it secret). However, Albus Dumbledore, supposed clever old man thought that would be too dangerous, therefore they decided to use Sirius Black, James Potters’ best friend and even best man at the Potters’ wedding.

That however did not exactly happen, because Sirius knew all to well that everyone knew he was to be secret keeper, therefore, persuaded the Potter’s to change the secret keeper to Peter Pettigrew: You see Pettigrew was also a close friend of the potter’s. However, he was considered a joke of a wizard, therefore in theory no one in his or her right mind would expect him to be the true secret keeper. However, that was a mistake; Pettigrew had already betrayed the ‘LIGHT’ and was already Voldemort’s whipping boy.

That day changed the Potters’ lives; the Dark Lord Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow, knocked out James’ and Lily Potter with the intension of gloating later, before he went upstairs in the small cottage house and into Harry’s and Rose’s bedroom, discovering the raven-haired boy and red-haired girl in their crib.

Harry was standing, his eyes a piercing emerald green in colour like his mothers. Rose was sitting playing with a doll, her eyes hazel like her fathers, her gaze only on her toy. Harry watched as Voldemort fired his deathly Killing Curse at him. However, a weird shield of yellows and orange reflected the beam. It seemed to emanate from the two children before destroying the Darkest Wizard in over a century.

Harry was left with a gash over his right shoulder while his sister had a cut on her forehead and she began crying, Harry only had a few tears and tried comforting his sister when their two groggy and dazed parents rushed in. the two parents praised and comforted their children: Miracles. One of their babies brought an end to the darkness, and although their babies had been in danger, they are safe now, and the Dark Lord Voldemort maybe gone forever.

Many hours later, one Albus Dumbledore declared Rose Potter ‘THE-GIRL-WHO-LIVED’, nobody even gave Harry a second glance as they began their praising and worshiping of his sister. Dumbledore did not consider Harry as their savoir, he just took one look at Rose’s scar, and that was it: She is the girl-who-lived.

You see those in the wizarding world are not only wimps but also idiots, bakas and the same word for idiots in every country’s worldwide languages. They will believe anything you tell them… it is in fact surprising they do not still believe the world is flat. They would sail right off the edge.

Fifteen years later…

A young man of sixteen: About 5’11”-6” tall, sat on a near empty train. He wore a large thin dark yellowy orange dragon leather trench coat that usually hung to his ankles, with a high, bendy collar. His black tee shirt underneath had no sleeves; he wore black semi-baggy trousers.

In addition, around his neck just tucked into his tee shirt on platinum chain a small flat piece of emerald in the shape and size of a dog tag, with a crown carved along with the name SKYE. His black boots made of Dragon Hyde, with charms to make them abnormally light.

His hair on top and in the front, long, rather than at the back where it was short, its colour blacker than night, it appeared to absorb light. It defied gravity with its massy spikes, except where it hung down in tufts over his shoulders and ears, but even they defied gravity to a degree. His eyes a vivid and usual deep purple that seemed to sparkle with happiness and enjoyment as he leaned back, looking ahead out of the side window watching the French countryside wiz by.

The young man, considered by many young women he has meet along his travels as ‘HOT’, ‘CUTE’ and ‘WHOA…’, well you get the point, not to mention, he works out regularly and has a good bit of muscle mass, though not bulky he’s strong, healthy and fit. He sat on a long bench on the near empty train, looking ahead out of the side window.

“Are we there yet?” a voice suddenly hissed from his coat, looking down the young man grinned at the small red and orange snake as it stuck its head out.

“Not yet, Arrow,” the young man hissed back. Normally a human speaking to a snake would be unusual, however not for a wizard with the rare, talent of Parseltongue, which he discovered when he was much younger, back before his grandpa died.

“Aww, Skye,” the snake moaned, seemingly pouting. “We’ve been on this damn train for hours now.”

The young man, Skye chuckled lightly at his friends’ inpatients; the small snake seemed to love moaning about how long it takes to get places. “It’s only been two and half hours, we should be in Paris… in,” Skye lifted his left sleeve looking at his watch. “About twenty minuets,” he informed his tiny little friend.

Arrow sighed dramatically, looking annoyed. “This is so not fun, I hate riding the train… you could have bought us a portkey or apparated,” he declared nodding his little head as if agreeing with himself.

Skye laughed, grinning cheekily. “But where’s the adventure in that… plus you know I hate magical teleportation,” he shuddered at the thought, learning to apparate was the most horrific experience he had ever had, and portkey’s were even worse, they just made him dizzy and feel sick.

The snake looked at him shrewdly, shaking his head in disapproval. “What kind of wizard are you?” he asked mockingly, something he liked to do when Skye does not like something. Arrow did not find magical teleportation bad so why should Skye.

Skye laughed, a little disapprovingly. “One who doesn’t like portkey’s or apparation? Anyway, it is not exactly my fault I hate get sick. I am fine with cars, trains, planes and boats, which is why I always use them. Anyway, if we keep teleporting everywhere we might miss something interesting. ”

Arrow sighed, rolling his little black eyes in amusement. “Well I’m going back to sleep, try not to get into trouble… well at least until after you check into an inn.” Skye chuckled amusedly as Arrow retreated back into Skye’s left sleeve rapping around his upper arm drifting back to sleep.

Skye often found Arrow’s jabs at him getting himself into troublesome situations amusing… his little friend seemed to be under the impression he goes looking for bother or something. However, why would he go looking for trouble when it usually stumbles across him? Not that he minded much, since it normally brightened his day, livening and alleviating his boredom.

Anyway, he is supposed to enjoy himself, since his travels are mainly for the adventure, and what is an adventure without a little trouble?

Skye wondered at that sometimes, since he does seem to attract trouble, and his friends have mentioned on many occasions his knack for stumbling across bad situations and then kicking ass. Even a few members of the council have mentioned his knack for getting in and out of trouble.

Skye thought that Voldemort might have jinxed his somehow before he was-destroyed.
He chuckled lightly to himself as he scratched the back of his neck in deep thought. Voldemort was just troublesome, coming back to life, being nothing but a stupid bother. He just hopped he will not run across the Dark Tosser anytime soon, though knew without much doubt knows he is stronger than Voldemort is.

However, rumour has it Rose Potter is the only person capable of destroying the dark jerk. Though, if he truly is a trouble magnet, guessed he will be running into either Voldemort or death eaters, (Voldemort’s ass munchers).

However, the person, or people he feared running into most are Rose Potter, Lily Potter and James Potter, once his family. His twin sister, mother and father… the family that wanted nothing to do with him… the reason he ran away, and has the brilliant free life he has now. Moreover, the reason he has such brilliant friends he loves very much, and will protect with his own life if he has to.

The world he, Skye comes from is so much more different to the one he left all those years ago. So much so, he was not completely sure the wizards and witches even knew about it. He is very much aware most that live in the magical world are blind to the rest of the planet.

However, knew that is not completely their fault, but mostly the purebloods fault, and the magical world’s governments for believing they are superior, when in fact, they are far from better to the outside world.

While the tech world; or muggle world as witches and wizards call it moved on and advanced, the wizarding world stayed behind the times, almost living in the dark ages. They have so much power, yet they choose to stay how they are, instead of advancing and bettering themselves. He had never understood that no matter how many times his grandpa told him it just seemed stupid and went right over his head.

“What you have to realise about wizards Harry,” his grandpa’s words rang in his head, a memory of the past. “Is most wizards are ruled by either their fear or arrogance.” The raven-hared eight-year-old boy just nodded in fake understanding as the old man continued. “They either fear the muggle world… fear them finding them because of muggle things… or they are arrogant, believing ancient traditions and the status of ones blood makes you superior.”

“Huh? But that’s silly grandpa,” Skye remembered himself saying with a look of confusion. “I love muggle things, I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t watch my early morning cartoons.” His grandpa just laughed at him in pure amusement.

Skye shook his head amusedly at that conversation, he doubted he would ever understand the wizarding community, not that he visited wizarding settlements that often. He sighed a little now he thought of his grandpa, letting a small smile grace his lips; he hopped the old man is proud of him. He had done his best to become the greatest King of Bandit.

Skye smiled a little sadly, as he leaned his head back he took a deep breath of freedom, remembering the events that started this all those years ago. His grandpa fresh in his mind, he slowly closed his eyes, resting contently, his mind drifting back to his parents, those who would be his family.


Eleven years earlier…

Five-year-old Harry James Potter, short messy black hair and beautiful emerald green eyes, wearing old charity shop clothes: His sister Rose, the girl-who-lived did not like it if their parents bought him anything new. He was not sure why his sister was so stuck up and hated him so, because he loves her very much, even though she is horrible to him.

Last year he had even heard Albus Dumbledore, supposedly nicest person you could meet encouraging his parents to give Rose everything and him nothing, if that is what she wants.

However, Harry was not sure that was what Rose really wanted, because he had also heard the old man telling her, her parents would give her anything she wants if she tells them too, and even stated that she should make sure Harry gets nothing for not being famous like her.

Harry wondered why Dumbledore would be so cruel, so evil towards him but came up with no answers. His sister was not exactly stupid, but not very smart when it came to getting things she would do nearly anything. He did not think he should blame his sister for this, but the idiots that gave in to her.

Harry’s mother Lily Potter at first fought Dumbledore on the matter of ignoring Harry. However, the old man won, saying that Rose needed all the love and attention if she was to survive Voldemort.

Harry often wondered why that name never scared him as it does everybody else; he guessed that it was because he thought the name stupid. In all honestly, who in reality can fear a name, unless you are weak minded and pathetic… only a wimp and coward can fear Voldemort’s name.
It was his and Rose’s fifth birthday, Harry like any normal five year old was in good spirits, and hopeful for at the very least one small gift from his parents and a hug and kiss from his mum. However as the day progressed and guests started arriving for ‘Rose’s’ birthday party he was ignored, by the end of the day all he wanted was a hug from his mum, that was all he really ever cared about, however none came.

How anyone could just ignore one child for another was just horrible. He had not eaten anything at the party, mainly because he felt uncomfortable. Every time he went to take something to eat, he sensed a glare aimed at him, looking round it was always one of his parents so he stopped trying to eat. None of the other kids at the party even spoke to him or gave his much of a look, he was just the pitiful unloved child nobody knew.

His family hated his… despised his very existence. However, what he had ever done to deserve such treatment he may never know. However, he did not hold it against them; not really, well maybe he held it against his father, the worse of them all. All Harry had ever wanted from his family was some love and attention, some kindness… to be happy like everybody else.
Harry had cried himself to sleep that night…

The next morning he entered the kitchen for breakfast, starving after not eating at the party when his father demanded he go to his room and not to be greedy and stealing all of the cereal, though he hadn’t even opened the box yet. He was lucky when he did as he was ordered a house elf came with some breakfast for him, he always’ loved the house elves, they had always’ taken care of him.

Imagine that, having the servants love you more than your family, at least he knew from the kind creatures what it felt like to have some kindness, some love, someone to talk to.

That whole week he was not allowed into the dinning room or kitchen, therefore, a house elf kindly snuck him food, but it broke his little heart more and more each day, his parents hated him. He was confused, lonely and scared, why, what reason did they have to hate him? He could not take it much longer, it would be better to have no family rather than one that hates you.
Two weeks after his fifth birthday, Harry James Potter left Potter Manor alone and was never seen again…

(End Flashback)

“We shall be arriving in Paris in two minuets,” a man on the intercom announced in French.
Skye’s eyes flicked open, a few stray tears shone, however he quickly blinked them away.

“I guess we’re here,” he said quietly to himself standing up, stretching with a yawn, he was tired after such a long trip. He strolled casually to the door, waiting patiently as the train slowed to a stop, holding the railing.

“Last stop, Paris, Paris last stop,” the French voice spoke again.

Skye chuckled, at least he understood and spoke French this time, last time he was in France he missed his stop twice. In fact, he had seen fit to learn a few other languages, since it made perfect sense for someone travailing the world to learn a few extra languages.

The doors along the train slid open automatically and Skye bounced out with a beaming grin, breathing in the fresh Parisian evening air. People were running about all over the platform, and were chatting excitedly. He always admired the people he witnessed, most unaware of all the magical dangers that lurked around every corner.

He just had to find a cheep inn and rest before his boat ride the next day, he is tired after his long trip and needed a nice long rest. He did not often stay in a fancy, rich hotel since he never stayed in one place to long he felt no need. Therefore he often stayed within a nice inn, though sometimes he had no choice but for grander, or worse, a crap hole American motel, for such a rich country they sure had a lot of shit.

Walking casually towards the exit a young boy of about twelve bumped into him, and he grabbed the boys’ wrist, grinning cheekily with a smug gleam in his eyes. “Hey, let go of me you pig,” the boy demanded, panicked, realising he bumped the wrong person today.

“Return my wallet and I’ll consider it,” laughed Skye good naturedly, pickpockets were always fun to mess with. “Otherwise I’ll turn you over to the cops.” Well to be honest he would just take the wallet back by force, since he could never be bothered with the cops of any country, they are useless no matter where he goes: Well they have never caught him before.

The boy gulped and shakily held out Skye’s black leather wallet, he took it back and placed it in his inside pocket, smirking with enjoyment. “C-can I go now mister? P – Please,” the boy begged desperately, with pleading eyes.

Skye shrugged releasing the boy and he quickly ran off, into the crowd and out of sight, Skye just shrugged amusedly as he headed towards the exit.

Skye soon made his way out of the train station towards the busy main road outside; ignoring a few flirtatious young women he saw, if he was not exhausted from his trip he might have been chatting up some hot French woman, but he knew his priorities right now. Sleep came before girls, especially when you are leaving the country in the morning, and have a ship to catch.

The road outside had a long queue of taxis’ along the curb ready to pick up anyone in need of a ride after arriving in the huge French capitol. He loved most train stations for having a taxi rank outside the buildings so he can just hop in and off to his next destination, which in this case is an inn.

Skye quickly chose a taxi, climbing in the back, the driver, a beefy black man wearing a cap looked round at him smiling. “Where too?” he asked in need of the destination.

“Err,” Skye thought for a moment, he was not sure where to go, all he knew was he wanted to sleep, and rest. “I dunno, how about a cheep but nice inn if you know of one… I’m only staying the night, so no need for too much luxury,” he finally answered with a small smile.

The driver nodded; turning back, he started his taxi and pulled out into the road, a little faster than necessary; but with the masses of traffic… speed is the only way to get into the road. “So where are you heading if your not staying in Paris?” the driver asked conversationally.

“Oh, I’m off to England in the morning,” Skye replied with a shrug. “I have some business in London.”

The driver nodded in understanding. “Shame… Paris is a nice place for a young man like you to find a lady friend.”

Skye chuckled amusedly; it was as if the driver heard his earlier thoughts. “Well, business comes first I’m afraid… I might be coming back this way; so I might stay a while longer then,” he answered with a cheeky grin as he leaned back; closing his eyes, resting them: Thinking. The driver saw his fare resting, probably because of a tiring trip and decided to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the young man as he drove on towards his destination.

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