Centuries ago, an Order was formed by King Pendragon. More commonly know as 'King Arthur'. The Knights of the Round Table, under the rule of Arthur, made it their mission to quell the demonic threat across the British Isles. These knights were but mere men, at first they wondered how they could possibly fight such a darkness. The very first meeting was called into session and Arthur explained vaguely the details of their goal, common types of demons they would encounter and the secrecy that they would need to uphold. The meeting was interrupted shortly after that by an old man that Arthur greeted as one would an old friend. He introduced the man as a priest, by the name of Myrddin, here to help them. The man stood beside Arthur, talking in a soft, yet loud voice, explaining to the Knights that their quest has been set upon them by the Holy Father himself. The old priest then tore a tapestry from the wall, revealing a hidden extension containing thirteen suits of armour. Perfectly polished silver seemed to gleam with an almost ethereal beauty in the dimly lit room. Finely engraved symbols and delicate golden filigrees littered every surface. The priest told the men that the Holy Father would supply the divine armour to any other Knight that joined the Order. Should the Knights train their sons, their armour will be passed down. The priest instructs the Knights to always act righteously, and with a hushed parting word to Arthur, he left.

As the years passed, The Holy Knights, known as Paladins, slowly aged and became less able to perform their duties. Kay, one of the Paladins, began to train his son to become the next Kay. As the once young men passed their knowledge onto their sons, they retired from their Holy quest, leaving the next generation to purge the lands of evil. Gawain II, having lost his mother to an evil sorcerer, extended his judgement to those who practised magic, he saw them as demons that had taken host inside a person. The other Paladins were against him to begin with, but as they bore witness to the horrors caused by these sorcerers, they too became less tolerant.

Generations later, the Order, now referred to as 'The Church', take in orphans and forge new Paladins in the name of God. Only a few of the original Paladins' lines still exist to this day. The new Paladins are bestowed with their own set of armour and their sword on the morning of their tenth birthday. The armour grow with their body, much as the sword will too. Paladin Gawain is the current head of The Church, training the young boys to carry out the ancient quest set by his ancestors. The prejudice against magicfolk still runs strongly within The Church, although they are harder to find in modern times, The Paladins tend to not be very forgiving to them.

In one very rare case, upon the tenth birthday of one of the orphans under Gawain's tutelage, the ancient suit of Lancelot appeared for a young boy. The line of Lancelot was thought to have been broken centuries ago, but when the armour appeared for the young boy, He was the envy of his peers. Lancelot I was widely regarded as the greatest Paladin excluding Arthur himself. Lancelot I was also once known as Godric Gryffindor, his son, Lancelot II, was born Henry Potter.

The Church didn't like that a wizard was the heir of Lancelot, not one bit.

A/N: It's a bit rough. The rest of the story will be in first person from Harry's PoV, the latest Lancelot. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Paladin

I slowly flicker into consciousness, rubbing my eyes roughly as I swing my legs over the edge of my bed. I let out a long sigh as I stretch my arms in a wide arc over my head. This has been the first decent night of sleep I've had since those soul suckers had a go at me.


"Lancelot!" A voice squeaks. "There's a horde of dementors sweeping over Scotland!" I sit up quickly, knocking a bottle over. My squire, a house-elf, keeps a watch on The Church and Demonic activities. I was excommunicated from The Church on my twelfth birthday, they had spent the entire year try to work the magic out of me, morons. Gawain didn't like me to begin with, but after seeing Lancelot's armour appear when I was ten, he suddenly began to train me 1-to-1. After I was sent a letter when I was eleven stating that I was a sorcerer, he had the gall to lock my armour away from me. His idea of 'purging' my freakishness was branding me with holy symbols, which is still have on my skin to this day. I managed to escape on my twelfth birthday when an odd little elf by the name of Dobby came to tell me I wasn't to return to Hogwarts. I told him that I'd never been to Hogwarts and a few minutes of glowing and screaming later, he offered to become my squire, odd how these things happen.

"How many?" I push empty cans from my coffee table and pick up my sword. "Armour." Dobby snaps his fingers and my armour clips onto my body.

"At least a hundred." His ears flatten against his head. He starts looking through a pile of clothes, throwing them across the room, until he finds a large Holy cross. It was probably buried in the same manner.

"This one still blessed?" I grasp it in my left hand. "Last time I had to deal with these guys it was just a cross." I shudder at the memory.

"I got this one done last Sunday, Brother Samuel still likes you at least." Dobby is better than any squire in the employ of The Church. He can teleport us anywhere, somehow get any materials we need and he can put my armour on for me.

"Let's go." I say. He grabs my legs and teleports us out of my flat.

We land beside a small lake shrouded by tall trees, ice is already starting to form around the edges of the water. I look up to the sky, no demons yet. I take a steadying breath and readjust my grip on the cross. If I drop this then I can kiss my soul goodbye, no pun intended.

"There's a guy here." Dobby says. I turn to see him crouched beside a scruffy, black-haired man.

"A homeless guy?" I walk over to them watching the tree line warily. "Soul in once piece?"

"Looks like prison robes." Dobby says. "Oh."

"What?" I say. "What is it?" The temperature drops again.

"This guy's from Azkaban." Dobby says, barely above a whisper.

"Fuck!" I shout. "They're coming for him, aren't they?" Dobby looks up at me, the light reflecting from my armour casts a grim shadow over his face as he nods. The demons break from the trees and fly slowly across the lake. "Father, Give me strength." I mutter, stabbing my sword into the soft dirt beside the prisoner's head. The cross guard makes the whole thing into a holy cross, a clever design. I grip the holy cross and hold it up high as the demons close in. I can feel their presence, horrifically washing over my skin.

"They're here for him." Dobby says, peering at the demons from behind my legs. They dare not come any closer, but with so many, I'm not sure how long the cross will hold.

"Back foul demons!" I shout. They do nothing. "Fucking hell." I curse. I crouch down slightly, not taking my eyes off the demons as I paw at the ground for a stone. I almost lose my footing as I stand back up, I wave the cross menacingly as I throw the stone. It bounces pathetically off the head of then closest one.

"You blaspheme a lot for a Paladin." The prisoner says.

"You know what I am?" I ask, not looking back.

"An old friend of mine said his great-great grandfather was one." The man coughs.

"You alright there buddy?" I ask.

"I'm used to them now. Too many years ..." He mumbles as he trails off.

"Dobby, You ever hear of a wizard banishing these things?" I ask, beads of sweat forming on my face as the cross glows brightly. They aren't even attacking. They know they can outlast me.

"There was a charm." He says, pacing behind me. He used to serve a wizarding family, I usually ask if he has a wizardy way of dealing with the things we run into. "Happy thoughts or some nonsense."

"Happy thoughts?" I laugh. "Brilliant. I'm sure that'll help. Prisoner." I nudge him with my heel. "You got some happy thoughts we can throw?"

"Need to find Harry ..." He mumbles.

"Just you and me Dobs." I glance back when he doesn't say anything. Dobby is curled into a ball on the floor. I glare back at the soul suckers. "Bastards." I reach back and pull Excalibur out of the dirt. The memories of being branded in The Church begin to surface. My knees begin to buckle as the demons move closer, the light of the cross waning. "Come on old boy." I whisper to the sword. "Have a little faith." I raise my head defiantly, the cross pulses again.

"No more." Dobby shudders. "Please." My grip on Excalibur tightens.

"Back to whence you came." I say as I drop the cross. "Back to the darkness."

End Flashback.

I shake my head, reforming my brain. Somebody is knocking on my door.

"Who's there?" I call out, picking up a half finished beer as I walk over to the door. I look through the spyhole. An old woman and an even older man. Judging by the Victorian clothes, they are either time travellers or sorcerers. I open the door. The woman gasps as she sees the scars are brands over my body. "A bit early for visitors." I say, taking a sip from the cold can.

"It's 3 in the afternoon." The old man says, peeking past me into the flat.

"Are you trying to sell me something?"

"Ah, No." He says. "May I ask your name?" People usually give their names first. I panic.

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore." I say. Shit. His eyes begin to twinkle.

"I've not met another that shares my name." He smiles.

"Out of every name on Earth, I had to say yours." I shake my head. "Might as well come in I suppose." I walk into the living room and sit in an armchair. The woman eyes the rubbish with obvious disdain. "Sorry about the mess." I told Dobby that it would be suspicious if a 14 year old's flat was really clean. "What can I do for you? Need something hunted or exorcised?" They exchange a look.

"Could you tell me your name, You real name?" The man says.

"Lancelot the twentieth. Born Harry Potter. At your service."

"Harry." The woman whispers.

"Do you know why we're here?" He asks.

"Assuming that you're Albus Dumbledore, I'd say that you want me to attend your school." I rest my elbows on my knees. He nods.

"Partly." He says. "You said you were … Lancelot?"

"The twentieth." I confirm, walking to the kitchen. "Beer?" I offer from the fridge, they shake their heads. I scratch my chin and select a can. "Lancelot was a knight of the round table. The greatest Paladin to ever stand beside Arthur." I explain, taking a seat again. "I am the twentieth Paladin to hold the name Lancelot, They thought the line was broken a long time ago." I point to the gleaming armour by the window. "Almost 1400 years old. So, school. Why now? I did get the letter when I was eleven." I rub the large scar on my chest. "Thanks for that, by the way." They look at each other again.

"Hogwarts is host to a tournament this year." He begins. Tournament? He doesn't know it yet, but I'm already on board. "The Tri-Wizard tournament to be exact. Three of Europe's most premier magical schools come together for this ancient gathering. A champion is chosen, one from each school. In the past, many have died, this led to the tournament not being held for many years."

"What changed?" I sip the cool beer. "Why now? And why does this concern me?"

"Certain … officials..." He says with disdain. "Think it will be good for international relations. After the fiasco at the World Cup, it's a sort of … party." He sighs.

"For Merlin's sake Albus." The woman says. "Just tell him."

"The champions have been selected, one from each school. A fourth champion was picked, this obviously wasn't supposed to happen. There was an age requirement, 17, and the cup picked you." He looks unhappy.

"Me?" I blink.

"The students enter their names into the cup, hoping to be chosen." The woman says. "For reasons unknown, it chose you as a fourth champion. It is also how we found you."

"It allows us to locate the champions." The headmaster says. Dobby appears before me with a soft pop.

"There is a dog outside, sir." He says. Why would he tell me that?

"A dog?" I ask. "There are plenty of dogs outside." He disappears again.

"The stupid man." The woman mutters. Dobby pops back into the flat with a large black dog.

"Is it a demon?" I ask, reaching for my sword. "Do I need to cut it's head off?" The dog's eyes widen and it turns into a man. I stick my sword into the hardwood floors. "Not enough call for a beheading these days." I grumble.

"Harry!" The man says, throwing his arms around me, or trying to. Dobby flicks the man across the room.

"Isn't that the prisoner from a few months ago?" I ask Dobby, looking closely at the man. "With the soul suckers, remember?" Dobby's ears flap briefly.

"Looks like him." Dobby nods. "I wondered what happened after we left him. I thought the wolf might have gotten him." I smile at the memory. After I'd scared the demons away, a wolf-man jumped out of the trees and tried to attack me. The inner wolf didn't like the cross. I was tempted to stab him, but it's hardly his fault he has a demonic wolf inside him.

"Give the man a beer." I say to Dobby. "Glad to see you're alright, Prisoner." He sits next to Albus and accepts the beer. "You looked pretty bad when those soul suckers were surrounding us."

"That was you?" He says, eyes wide. The beer almost spills.

"Of course." I say, slightly offended. "None of those other pansies would jump in front of hungry demons." I hold the beverage up proudly. "The finest Paladin in Britain." I said proudly.

"You're a drunk?" The woman asks.

"Hmm? No!" I say. "You see the things I've seen and try not to have a drop of the old sauce every now and then."

"Or more often." Dobby snickers. I glare at the small elf.

"That was one time!" I say defensively.

"What are you on about?" The prisoner asks.

"He." Dobby jerks his thumb at me. "Once had a bit to much to drink and found himself in the second ring of hell for a night."

"I'm better at my job than any of those 'official' Paladins." I throw the empty can into the bin. "Nobody else has fought that many soul suckers for generations." I stand up and start throwing my clothes into a rucksack. "So. This school. What's it like?"

A/N: Let me know what you think. Enjoy.