Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter.

Full Summary: AU Ragnarok is the top assassination agency in the magical and muggle world. Its assassins are personally hand selected and trained rigorously from birth until they are given their first assignments. Subject 37, Harrison Potter, has never left the Ragnorak compound or interacted with anyone outside of the President or the other Subjects, leaving him socially and emotionally stunted. He has just been given his first assignment: eliminate Isabella Swan. SLASH.

AN: I know I'm supposed to be working on Fate but for some reason, this story just popped into my head about a socially retarded Harry that's never really had normal interactions with people who travels to Forks and meets Jacob who teaches him what emotion is. :] Call me a sap, but I think it's adorable! Plus, I think this Harry and his interactions with people are kind of hilarious haha. This Harry is totally sort of based on Castiel from Supernatural. The whole assassination agency thing was just because I think it's awesome. Oh and I will try to refrain from bashing anyone in this fic. (coughbellacough)

I'm adjusting the time frame of Twilight slightly to make it match up with Harry Potter. This is completely AU on Harry Potter's part and loosely after Eclipse. A change is that Bella told Jacob that she's engaged to Edward, but Jacob didn't freak out and run off to Canada with his tail between his legs. *rolls eyes*

I don't know when I'll be updating this again because I'm still working on Fate. I guess it'll depend on how this is received and all. :] Review and tell me what you think!

November 1981. Location, St. Mary's Orphanage.

"Have you made the selection yet?"

"Yes. Harrison Potter, a recently orphaned infant male, age 1. The only survivor of the incident in Godric's Hollow last month."

A pause.

"I see…you are sure?"

"Yes. Both the physical and behavioral modification procedures work best on younger patients."

"Does it have to be…him?"

"According to the President, yes."

"Very well. Bring him."

"Yes, sir."

June 1996. Location, Unknown.


Subject 37 immediately turned in the direction of the voice, missing the vicious kick aimed at his stomach; he fell to the floor hard, but quickly rolled backwards and jumped to his feet once more. He and his sparring partner, Subject 12, knelt to the floor on one knee, heads lowered in deference.


"37, you are needed. Come."

"Yes, sir."

37 followed the well dressed man silently out of the sparring room, leaving 12 to remain knelt on the floor. They walked into the brightly lit corridors of the Agency, no one even sparing the pair a glance as they passed by. 37's emotionless face was still flushed from his earlier exertion and his clothes a bit damp with sweat. He was dressed plainly in a white uniform with white shoes; only his jet black hair and blindingly vivid green eyes provided any semblance of color to his otherwise monochromatic appearance.

The pair halted in front of a nondescript stretch of white wall. The man pulled his wand from his side and tapped it against the wall three times before placing his palm flat against it. 37 paused for a second precisely before placing his palm against the wall as well. The wall disappeared, revealing a small room with the barest of decorations as well as several people wearing deep red cloaks standing in the middle and conversing quietly amongst one another.

As the pair entered the room, the conversations stopped.

"Ah, 37. So prompt!"

The President spoke with a genial voice, his eyes crinkled with grandfatherly affection as he waved the pair over to him. If one were to judge someone based solely on appearance, the President would be regarded as a harmless old man. However, the President was a man to be feared. He ran the most successful assassination agency in the muggle and magical world, Ragnarok, which existed as free from any affiliation. Ragnarok dealt with any and all who came to its door. For a price. Depending on the target requested and the chance of success, the cost could easily be driven up into the millions. Or, if one were desperate enough, a lifelong debt.

"President." 37 intoned monotonously, ignoring all others in the room and kneeling before the President.

Subject 37 was a prodigy. At age 16, Subject 37 was among the top in his age group at Ragnok, specializing in magical combat and stealth. And though he had yet to be given his first assignment, his special skills made him one of the most expensive assassins at Ragnok. No one, however, had ever requested 37 and as such, 37 had never left the Ragnarok compound. Until now.

"This is who you send us? Some snot nosed brat that looks like he would get knocked over by a strong breeze?" The beautiful young girl in the red cloak looked at 37 as if he were something she had found on the bottom of her shoe. Her crimson painted lips were twisted with dislike as her ruby red eyes flashed dangerously.


'Jane' quieted immediately, silently unnerved by the other boy's lack of reaction to her jibe, but refusing to show it.

The President smiled warmly at her. "37 is well qualified for this assignment. He is one of my best and brightest."

"Of that we have no doubt," The red eyed leader said smoothly, a polite smile fixed to his lips whereas his blood red eyes remained sharp and calculating. He eyed 37 thoroughly, noting the young boy's lean frame and corded muscles. Not made for heavy combat and strength, but perfect for speed and stealth. And he would require both if he was to emerge from this assignment alive. His train of thought was interrupted as the President began to speak.

"Well, Aro, my old friend. What can I help you with today?"

Aro smiled for real this time.

"I need someone to be eliminated."


"Isabella Swan."

37 looked outside of the window at the thick ominous clouds surrounding the plane before directing his attention back to the papers in his hand. Pages and pages detailing one Isabella Swan, ranging from her personal habits to her love life to her living arrangements. 37 focused on the important details.

Isabella Swan, female, age 17. Height: 5'4". Weight: 115 lbs. Current location: Forks, Washington at 140 E Lancaster Drive. Romantic Affiliations: Engaged to Edward Cullen though has close ties to Jacob Black of the Quileute shape shifter pack. Personality traits: Prone to clumsiness and emotional behavior. Highly susceptible to persuasion should E. Cullen be threatened as well as-

37 looked away from the mission dossier again, trying to see through the thick clouds to the view below. This was his first time outside of the Ragnok compound. He frowned minutely, his undeniably attractive face slightly marred by the expression. Others thought of him as aloof and untouchable because of his position as the President's favorite, but that was incorrect. Due to his limited interaction with the other Subjects and his entirely nonexistent exposure to the outside world, it was quite safe to say that Subject 37 was socially inept. He didn't know how to be around normal people.

"Would you like some peanuts, sir?" Asked the freckled young stewardess to his right.

He stared at her blankly, silently considering her offer. He had never eaten 'peanuts' before, only the tasteless gruel and supplements given to him at Ragnarok. 37 looked at the girl seated on the other side of the aisle carefully, noting the pleased expression on her face as she quickly devoured the salty treat and licked her fingers afterwards. He stared at the stewardess once more, his beautiful face blank as he deliberated silently. After about ten seconds of uncomfortable silence on the stewardess' part, 37 finally answered, his voice solemn.


An hour later, they finally landed. 37 quietly grabbed his only bag and exited the plane, smoothly avoiding contact with everyone around him as he pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed a series of numbers. After a few seconds he began to speak.

"I have arrived, sir...yes…understood, sir."

He flipped the phone closed and carefully placed it back into his pocket as he headed over to rental car desk where there sat a middle aged woman wearing thick horn rimmed glasses.

"I require a car." 37 stated without preamble.

The woman behind the desk looked at him in disbelief. "Young man, I can't do that for you. You must be 18 to rent one of our cars." She eyed him dubiously. "Now, where are your parents? I'm sure they wouldn't want you wandering off like this."

37 stared at her blankly for a few seconds. As the woman's face began to become more and more frustrated, he abruptly turned around and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing once more.

"Sir...I am unable to purchase the necessary transportation...I was informed that I do not fulfill the age requirement." Silence. "Yes, sir."

37 flipped the phone closed and turned around, facing the highly annoyed looking woman once more. Before she could speak, he discretely waved his hand at his side. A moment later, the woman's expression glazed over and she smiled at him politely. "And how may I help you today, sir?"

"I require a car."

"Very well, sir. And what is your name?"

"Harrison Potter."