Chosha's notes

Hello, And welcome to Celestin! this is an AU fiction, An idea I've had for a while. Dunno how it'll turn out but I think its gonna be fun! It's a first full Harry potter story for me. I hope you like it! Anyway, enough from me, I'll let the story speak for itself...

Dislcaimer: Harry Potter, in movie or book form, does not belong to me, but rather to JK Rowling-sama and Warner Bros. They own all rights and products, rather than lil' Chosha-chan.

Chapter One

The Boy Assassin

Diagon Alley was packed with people. It was hardly surprising, really, considering the sky was a clear azure and the summer sun shone soft beams that warmed everyone after a long season of rain. It was a relief to anyone – magic or muggle – to be outside again and blow away the cobwebs. Who knew when the weather would allow it again? Being as unpredictable as it was, it would hardly surprise anyone if it tried to soak everyone at a moment's notice. Also, the summer holidays had begun only a few weeks previously, so children of all ages raced around to the stores, faces pressed up against the windows to stare at the new racing broom, the Firebolt, that had only been created last year. Or they begged their parents for money to buy a pet, toys, books or Ice creams.

Lazing outside Florean Fortascue's Ice cream Parlour was a fourteen-year-old boy slumped on a steel chair, a half-eaten sundae standing on the table in front of him. Long, jet-black hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, bangs brushing the bottom of a creamy-white bandanna, marked by Celtic patterns in sapphire blue. His smooth features set in a softly tanned face were lifted towards the sun, while startling green eyes were half-lidded in a feeling of blissful warmth mixed with a little boredom. His white tank top bared sleek muscular arms, one draped across his stomach; the other leaned against the steel table, idly spooning the ice cream. On the chair beside him hung a deep crimson trench-coat and, lying across it was a strange, long and slim draw-string bag that looked as if it could be carrying some sort of instrument like a recorder, except it was easily several inches longer than his arm. If it were a muggle street, this might have drawn a few strange stares, but in the magical community of Diagon Alley, he barely got a glance, which was perfectly fine by him.

The boy sighed heavily and sank further into his chair, the spoon sticking out of his mouth and his eyes shut. Right then he could have thought of thousands of things he could have been doing than waiting around on a day like this. However, he had received an owl to meet up with an associate of his, who had a few pieces of news for him that he thought the boy would find interesting. If it got him another case, then the boy couldn't care less. He hated to stay idle. His upbringing wouldn't stand for that.

At fourteen years old, one wouldn't think he would be bothered about any type of job during holiday time. However, this particular fourteen-year-old was anything but ordinary…in more ways than one.

The boy listened as footsteps made their way towards him, but he didn't move until a shadow fell across him. He cracked open an eye. A tall man – around six-feet tall – stood over him. He was wearing sunglasses – the sort that cover most of your face – and whatever part of his face that wasn't covered was shadowed by a large, wide-brimmed hat. Despite the heat of the day, the man wore a long, grey trench coat that came to his ankles and delicate, pure-white gloves on his hands. Under one arm he carried a rolled up newspaper - the daily prophet, as the boy noted by the half-obscured title.

The man smiled when he noticed the green eye fixed on him. When he spoke, it wasn't in English, but Japanese, that came from his mouth, his voice silky, as if he could talk birds into his palms. 'Konnichiwa, Celestin-sama. I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long.'

The boy, Celestin, let out a soft chuckle and motioned for the man to sit across from him, answering in kind. 'Not long, but you know me - I get impatient. You tried the ice cream here? They're delicious. Fortescue-san has been doing free refills.'

The man smiled a little, his pearl-white teeth glinting. 'I'm afraid I am not one for ice cream.'

Celestin shot him a sideways look. 'Only you wouldn't like ice cream, Marius.' He spooned a little more ice cream into his mouth, his eyes glinted questioningly. 'But what I wanna know is, out of all the languages you could have used, why in Merlin's name did you decide on Japanese?'

Marius entwined his gloved fingers and rested his chin on the tips. 'Mostly out of habit, I guess. After all,' he inclined his head towards the long package beside the boy, 'we did spend several years there recently.'

Celestin made a non-committal hum, before fixing the man with a glance. 'So, what's the occasion? Usually you don't contact me for a day meeting unless you found something worth while. You have a new job for me?'

'Better,' the man chuckled, throwing down the paper onto the table, the front page upwards. 'It seems as if your "fan club" has been writing up on you again.'

'Front page, too! I must say I'm honoured.' Celestin chuckled as he skim-read the page before him:

Dark Wizard Found Dead

Another Wizard has been found murdered by the mysterious dark-wizard assassin yesterday evening, writes Rita Skeeter. Mr Mazrim Belvon, a wizard who has been charged several times for the possession of and dealings with dark items in the passed and was a suspected supporter of he-who-must-not-be-named, was found in his living-room dead. Deep lacerations in his neck and chest are thought to have been what caused his death, rather than the infamous Avada Kedavra, with the strange symbol of a winged sword found over the body. It is believed by Aurors that Belvon was the latest victim of the mysterious Justice-barer that has already targeted many former death-eaters and he-who-must-not-be-named's supporters, his numbers now ranging through double figures since the killings began around a year ago…

Celestin chuckled darkly. 'Those people never seem to be able to make up their minds if I'm dark or not. Skeeter, hm? I must be on her good side today. I'm the 'Justice-barer' again. Look's like she had more issues with the guy we offed than with me, this time.' He smirked. 'Y'know, I wish they would make up their minds. One of these days I might get all confused about who the bad-guys are.'

'Of course,' Marius said fondly.

Celestin leaned back on his chair, hands behind his head. 'You mentioned another job for me?'

Marius flipped through the prophet's pages towards the middle, then slid it across the table to the boy, who peered at it with interest. He smiled at what he saw. 'So, the long-awaited finals of the Quidditch world cup are being held here in England. A very large gathering…'

'A perfect opportunity for a reunion.'

Emerald eyes flashed. 'Before they join their death-eater brothers in hell.' Celestin leaned forward. 'You sense trouble?'

Marius pushed the sunglasses up his nose, his face, hard to read anyway, and even harder when it was covered like that, was devoid of emotion. 'The scent of trouble has been thickening over these last few weeks, my friend. Something is coming.'

Celestin's fingers unconsciously brushed a shape on his bandanna, his eyes dark. '…I know…'

'You need to tread cautiously. It won't be just one or two death-eaters this time, but perhaps twenty, maybe, and there will also be ministry wizards present. It could be all over if either catch you.' Marius said gravely.

Celestin stood, pulling his coat on and picking up the long, thin bag, before flashing a grin at Marius, who had also stood. 'It is unlikely they'll catch me, especially if I've got anything to do with it. You worry too much sometimes, Marius.'

A fond smile touched the man's features and he momentarily touched the boy's face with a gloved hand. 'It is hard to forget how fragile mortals are. It is what I get for my raising you.' He lowered his hand.' So, Do you have a plan of attack?'

'Other than sneaking in to watch the finals beforehand? Sort of,' He admitted, ignoring the slight tut from the man about priorities. 'But it means paying an old "friend" a visit'

Marius shot him a look. 'You know the man has had dealings with death-eaters before. Are you sure you can trust him?'

Celestin laughed darkly. 'Trust? Who said anything about that?' A feral grin settled onto his youthful face. 'But he knows that, if he betrays me, I will be is personal emissary to hell, taking him the slow, scenic rout as I give him the tour of his own insides'

Marius sighed. 'At times you can be so barbaric, my friend,' though a small smile graced his features.

Celestin smirked and turned to leave, waving back to him as he began to walk away. 'That's what I get for being raised by a vampire.'

Marius smirked as he watched his protege walk away, sharp fangs glinting. 'So true, my friend. So true.'


Knockturn Alley wasn't the type of place you would expect some who served the light side to be. It was a dark, dingy, narrow alleyway leading off Diagon Alley that even sunlight seemed to refuse to enter and seemed to be made up of shops entirely devoted to the dark arts. It was the sort of place that you expected the ministry to have investigated by now and closed down, yet Celestin wasn't surprised. With such a bungler as Cornelius fudge as minister, it was hardly surprising that a fourteen-year-old had taken up the law into his own hands.

Celestin strode confidently through the twisting alley, ignoring the unscrupulous people that slunk in the shadows. No one dared to approach him. Such a person like him who walked so confidently and admitted such an aura could not be a person to mess with. Celestin knew this and used it to his advantage. None would suspect that he was on the light and actively reducing their numbers. But he wasn't interested in these people for now. Celestin was searching for a particular shop that held certain items Celestin could use for his upcoming target. He smirked. He almost felt sorry for the poor schmuck that ran the place…almost. He chuckled and pushed open the door, a bell clanging as he entered.

Borgin and Burkes was a dimly lit shop filled with what Celestin would call "interesting" items, which meant that everything in the place looked as if it should have hazard written over it in large fluorescent, flashing lights. A large glass case held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards and a staring glass eye. Evil looking masks hung from the walls. Human bones – which Celestin decided he didn't want to hazard a guess at where they were from – were arranged on the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling that looked as if they were some sort of instruments for torture. A rather ornate looking necklace of opals with a card propped on it that reading; Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed – Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date sat in a glass cabinet, sitting close to a hangman's rope. Yet there was definitely one thing that caught his interest. Two well-kept weapons that looked like muggle guns sat on a shelf. One was jet black, the other an ivory white. Inscribed on both was a name. Nox for the black, Dies for the white - Latin, if Celestin remembered correctly. Night and Day. Celestin swept a hand over them, his eyes closed. He could sense strong magic from them. He smirked. This was exactly what he was looking for.

Just then a stooping man appeared behind the counter. He had a face that immediately made you think of some sort of swindler, his dark hair smoothed back with enough oil to silence at least ten very squeaky doors. Seeing the figure standing by the shelf, his back to the counter, the man approached, rubbing his hands together.

'Ah, younger mister, welcome, welcome.' His voice was almost as oily as his hair. 'Something caught your fancy? We have had a lot of new stock in not long ago – all very reasonably priced, of course.'

Celestin chuckled at his manner and turned to face the man slowly, a cold smile on his face. 'Mr Borgin,' He said softly. 'How nice to see you again, old friend.'

It was enough to make the man lose his slimy composure. His face drained of all colour and he immediately started breaking out into a cold sweat. He stumbled backwards into the counter as his knees looked just about to give way. He gaped at the raven-haired boy in the most convincing impression of a landed fish that Celestin had ever seen. 'I-it's you!' he gasped, pointing at him.

Celestin parted his arms in a relaxed manner. 'I was the last time I checked. Brilliant deduction, Mr Borgin, though I have to say your manners haven't improved – it's rude to point.'

The man looked just about ready to faint. 'B-but I h-haven't said anything! You know I… mercy! I-I beg you…' he started to babble, slowly becoming more and more incoherent. Celestin watched with an blank expression, though inside he was close to bursting out laughing at the fear the man was showing to a fourteen year old of around average height – understandable fear, but still a silly picture. He let the man sweat a little, before giving him a small, disarming smile.

'Then count yourself lucky today, Mr Borgin, 'cause I haven't come for you.'

Not that it made the man relax much more. 'Please don't kill anyone in my shop, sir.' He wined. 'A body in the store, blood everywhere… it's very bad for business, even here. I'm sure you understand…'

Celestin laughed at the miserable look on the man's face. 'Be assured, I'm not playing grim reaper on any of your customers… at least, not today. Don't worry, I wont foul your floor.' Borgin shivered a little and leaned more heavily on the counter, out of relief or fear at Celestin's ominous, silk-lined words, he didn't know. 'In fact,' Celestin continued, 'I'm actually here as a…business associate, so to speak. I'm buying, Mr Borgin.'

The man's expression changed immediately. His eyes took on a calculating, gleeful look and his oily manner was back in place. Celestin almost rolled his eyes, not seeing how that oily manner was going to persuade him when he could scare the pants off him with a look. 'Buying? Of course, I knew you had a tasteful eye, sir. You've seen something you'd like?'

Celestin decided not to comment on the "tasteful" remark and turned his attention to the two guns. 'Tell me about these two fascinating objects here, Mr Borgin'

Hands rubbing together, the storeowner scurried over to Celestin's side. 'Ahhh, the infamous Dies and Nox. Powerful weapons. I believe they were created during 1945 to prevent muggles learning of wizards. Spelled to be highly accurate and will shoot even through the strongest of shields. It's like an Avada Kedavra.'

Celestin traced over the metal with a finger, without actually touching it. 'Any curses on them?'

'Not that I know of. But it uses Wizards energy to power it.'

'Ah!' Celestin picked up the Ivory gun in experienced hands, much to Borgin's dismay, but Celestin ignored his protests, running his fingers over the golden inscription. He had been trained to sense magical energies – an ability few wizards had heard of, and even fewer could actually use. All things magical gave off certain vibrations, which Celestin had found highly useful – especially during combat. It helped him to predict if a spell was to be fired, or if a curse was to be thrown. He could feel magical vibrations in the air coming from this weapon. Oh, not that it had its own life force. Celestin was very experienced in those matters, but it made it no less dangerous. As Borgin had said, it was a truly powerful weapon and positively suicidal to use in inexperienced or weak hands. Celestin was quite surprised some follower of Voldemort hadn't bought them yet, though he guessed it might be something to do with the fact they looked so much like muggle weapons for proud pure-bloods to use. Celestin smiled. Well, fool on them…

He chuckled, causing the man to jump a mile next to him. 'I like these,' Celestin told him. 'So, how much are you asking for them?'

Borgin looked surprised for a second. 'What? You want both of them?'

'Can't very well split up a pair, can we?'

The man's eyes narrowed. 'How much do you have?'

Celestin was tempted to roll his eyes. Once a businessman, always a businessman. He reached into his coat and pulled out a leather pouch. With a half-smile, Celestin pulled the drawstring and tipped the bag a little. Several golden Galleons fell into his palm – the bag was full of them. He could see them man's eyes shining with greed. 'Would this be enough, Mr Borgin?'

'Well, well, what do you know! That's exactly the amount they cost!' and he snatched the bag from Celestin's hands.

Celestin gave him a weary, half-hearted glare. 'Why am I not surprised?' He carefully slipped the guns into the inside of his coat, vowing to make some special holsters for them later. He looked at the man about to start counting the gold when he frowned. 'Look, I am not getting into trouble for you, you know. You better not let 'em start thinking I joined with you. I'm neutral.'

Celestin chuckled softly, 'of course you are, Mr Borgin. But don't worry, this won't get traced back to you, old friend…' He flicked his wrist and a wand slid out of the holster in his sleeve. He flicked it in the man's direction. 'Obliviate!'

Instantly, Borgin's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted and his face became slack, a look of dreamy unconcern falling over his face. Celestin smiled, knowing that all memory of his appearance had been modified. The boy took the bag of gold once again and slipped it into his pocket. 'I'm sorry, Mr Borgin, but it's for your own good. What you don't know, you can't betray…'

With that, Celestin spun on his heal and walked out the shop, the door shutting with a dull clang behind him.


Chosha's notes

So, what do you think? Is it good, bad, or just plain stupid? Please, out of the kindness of your heart, review and tell me what you think. Constructive critisism's welcome. If you would like any explanations, don't hesitate to ask and I'll reply as best i can.

Next time on Celestin:

A shadow prowls in wait as the world cup arrives. Will Celestin succeed in his mission? Yet why's the Dark mark fired? something's starting...something that could shake the world to its foundations...Next episode: The Death-eater Masicure.

Ja ne!

Chosha Kurenai xXx