Harry Potter and The Clan

Chapter One: The Clan

"Come on fat boy, time to see the boss," said a masked man as he got out of a black BMW, his colleague jogged round the car.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," snarled the 'fat man'. He turned to keep walking but he'd barely taken a single step when he felt a knife against his throat.

"It's not really up for negotiation fatty, get in the fucking car. NOW!" barked the man who'd run around the car. His partner opened the door as he shoved the round man in the black car, the first man, who was in charge got back into the driver's side door while the second got in the back and kept holding his knife against the fat man's throat.

"You better be ready to pay up Dursley, our boss doesn't like to be kept waiting," the driver said. As he floored the gas, the tires squealed and smoke rose from the ground. Finally the BMW started moving.


After around an hour of driving at breakneck speeds down motorways they pulled off of the road, and onto a drive, leading through to a breath-taking sandstone mansion. They pulled up to the steps at the front of the mansion, the driver got out of the car first, opening the back door for the man, Dursley.

He pulled out a Sig P220, and put it to the man's head, "remember Dursley, if the boss gives the order, you'll find out the true meaning of pain," he finished with a grin. "Now Move!"

The man, Dursley, started walking up the steps to a set of large, polished oak doors everything about this house screamed wealth. As he reached the doors they opened, showing a butler pointing towards a door on the right hand side of the entrance hall.

Dursley, getting the message with a poke in the back from a gun, walked to wards the door that had been pointed out. He opened it when he got there.

He walked in to see a man sitting behind a large desk, with two swords mounted on the wall behind him.

"Ahh, Vernon Dursley, I do hope for your sake you have my money," the man said to him.

"Well, you see, the thing, uh, is, is that, well, I don't ha . . ." was all he got out before a bullet went into the back of his head, killing him instantly.

"Good work James, now, take the body back to the house, kill his son and wife, make it look like the wife did it" the man behind the desk said, speaking to the driver.

"Yes sir," was the reply, before both men turned on their heels and walked back to the car, dragging the body of Vernon Dursley behind them.


Later that night

"Sir," the driver said.

"Ah, James, Josh, how did it go?" the man behind the desk asked. He hadn't moved as of yet, he had been doing some paperwork to do with his businesses.

"It went fine," the second man, Josh, told him. "However, there was a slight problem."

"You weren't spotted were you?" the man asked, very concerned about his two assassins, and bodyguards.

"No, we dropped him off, the old drunk work colleague routine. But when we walked into the house, well, there was a baby boy in a basket on the doorstep," James, the driver, told him. "Neither of us had the heart to leave a baby there, by all means, he may not have been related to the indebted family anyway."

"So which room did you put him in?" the man asked.

"He is in the nursery at the moment sir," Josh told him. "Isabelle is looking after him, he has a very interesting scar above his right eye."

"Looks just like a lightning bolt," James finished.

"Right, well, as he now has nowhere to stay, we will look after him and raise him as one of the Clan," the man behind the desk started. "It's probably about time I had an heir to take over the fortune when I can no longer do it. Does the boy have a name?"

"We found a bracelet that said Harry J. Potter on his wrist, whether that's his name or not, we'll find out in time," began Josh.

"We will start looking through hospital records for the last year and a half, as he cannot be older than eighteen months," James finished.

"Very well, now, tomorrow, three meetings, two in London, and one in Manchester. We will be using the helicopter for all three, so make sure 'Monster' is up and running by eight am."

"Yes sir," both James and Josh said as they turned and left once more, walking up to their respective rooms.


2 in the afternoon; November 2nd 1981

"Ahh, Mr Kuznetsov, what a pleasure to see you again," a portly man said to a rather tall and regal looking man. "I see James and Josh are still your faithful bodyguards. How are you?"

"I'm good, as always," the man from behind the desk, Mr Kuznetsov said. "How are you and your wife Mr Lynch? And what of your son, is he still at boarding school?"

"My wife and I are good, and yes, he is in his second to last year there. He was going to be doing a trip across the continent when he has finished though," the portly man, Mr Lynch, said, "now, Vitaly, down to business?"

"Of course Adrian," Vitaly said, grabbing a list from his pocket. "We have 120 people to kit out, all of them will need waterproof boots, trousers, shirts and jackets, leather gloves, 3 sets of each, S6 Respirators, preferably with darkened lenses, black woollen balaclavas and 58 pattern webbing."

"All in black?" Adrian asked.

"Yes. Weapons, I want each member equipped with MP5SD3's and Beretta 92S's, with four 32 round magazines for each, and 30,000 9x19mm hollow points and 60,000 9x19mm full-metal jackets for each."

"That's a lot of ammunition for 120 people," Adrian told him.

"I plan on using it, eventually," Vitaly answered. "Right, I want 60 M16A1's with three 5.56x45mm Beta-C mags each, 15,000 hollow point rounds and 45,000 full-metal jackets. Last gun is Mossberg 590A1 with 20 inch barrel, 60 of them, along with 45,000 shells of varying sizes. Can you get Picatinny Rails for all of them except the Berettas?"

"You're gonna be stretching my supplies thin for a very long time, Vitaly," Adrian said. "What else?"

"120 cases of 24 M67 frag grenades, 60 cases each of 24 thermite hand grenades and 24 white phosphorous hand grenades and 120 cases of 24 smoke grenades, equal amounts of each colour."

"Are you done now?" Adrian asked, a bit surprised at the amount of equipment Vitaly was ordering.

"Not quite, I need 240 Ka-Bar knives, with sheathes. Night-vision goggles for everyone, and I'll bring a list of all the tactical attachments that my soldiers want in a few days."

"You know this is going to be a very expensive order, right Vitaly?"

"More so than any other order, but it's no issue, a few of my investments have paid off, more than I thought they would."

"You're ordering hundreds of guns, hundreds of thousands of rounds, a few thousand grenades, what's happening in London?"

"Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum. If you seek peace, prepare for war. We may be small, but we'll be well equipped, and even better trained. And if you can get everything in black, we'll be ghosts in the night."

"Right, I'm guessing you'll let me know dates and places for delivery?"

"Right you are, I'll see you in three weeks," Vitaly told him as he got up and left.


"Josh, James, could you find anything on the boy?" Kuznetsov asked as soon as they were in the air.

"Only that his names is Harry James Potter, born 31st July, 1980. Parents; James and Lily Potter (nee Evans) deceased; cause unknown. Living relatives, get this, Vernon and Petunia Dursley (nee Evans)," Josh started before looking at James to take over.

"He no longer has any living relatives, which would make him a ward of the state, but we pulled a few strings, and if you sign these papers, he will legally be your adopted son," James finished, handing a few sheets of paper to Vitaly.

"I will sign these tonight; make sure they get to where they need to be by the morning. I do not want police sniffing around my properties for the next few months."

"Ok sir," James said. "I will make sure I get them to my man."

"Good, we will all look after him, yes, me included, he will legally be my son anyway," Vitaly told them. "We can start training him when he is old enough to walk properly. You two can take care of that." Both James and Josh were masters in several different martial arts, including Ninjitsu and Kyukushin Kaikan. They were former SAS, both joining at 17 and leaving at 25, dishonourably discharged on suspicions of extortion, black mail, bribery and assault. No charges were ever formally laid outside of the SAS for fear of non-disclosure policies being broken.

Vitaly Kuznetsov had hired them both three months later, using his late parents money and well placed contacts to begin the Clan, a crime organisation to rival the Triads.