People say many things about change. Some are true, others aren't. Some are opinion, some are fact.

People say many things about life, many more about death.

Some people talk about futures that were impossible, about possibilities beyond human imagination.

Harry Potter considered none of these things. He was too busy holding onto precious life. Small bits of conversation floated in his mind.

"Oh my god! Is he all right?"

"What happened?"

"You hit him with your car! What is wrong with you!"

"God, he's dying! Call an ambulance!"

Harry drifted into the darkness, his body wracked with pain.

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Harry felt numb, his body was screaming that something was wrong. He could not feel his arms or legs, he could see nothing, he could not move, all he could do was listen.

"His body was suffering from malnourishment and abuse before you hit him."

"I heard that already, it doesn't change how I feel about all of this!"

"Mr. Sarif, eyewitnesses saw his walrus of an uncle chase him to the seen, threatening him about 'freakishness,'" unseen Harry flinched, "The hotel room had bloodstains that matched Harry perfectly."

"Still..."

"David, if you hadn't hit him he would have returned to England and his hell would have continued. Your paying for his treatment, his prosthetic limbs and everything else. You can't let the guilt get to you. In a way, you saved his life."

"Thank you Megan."

Their conversation was cut short by Harry's body realizing it was hurting. In a surge like a dam breaking, all of his pain returned. Afterward all anyone could hear was the sounds of his body screaming with all it had left in it.

After a few moments, he felt relief, his mind clouded and he felt sleep come over him.

"He's burning up the anesthetics too quickly, we might have to induce a chemical coma."

"He's so young... Why is his body rejecting the medicine?"

"I'm not sure. It also seems like he's doing something to the machines as well."

Harry fell back into the darkness.

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"Mr. Sarif, his augmentation surgery is complete. All systems are working at one-hundred percent, his biological energy isn't disrupting the electronics at all. However, we haven't activated them all yet. We want to run a few tests to make sure his mind isn't overloaded by the new eyes and limbs."

Harry felt his arms and legs again, he was still blind however. His body was heavy, like each of his limbs were made from rocks.

"Doctor, Harry is burning up the medicine again."

Harry heard a chuckle, "He's a strong boy. " Harry felt the sensation of fingers running across his face.

"Lets go, we have the meeting with that British headmaster in half an hour."

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"That Unbelievable Bastard!"

"Calm down Megan, or you might wake up Harry."

"This isn't right! You know it's not! They can't do this!"

"Your damn right they can't. However, getting mad like this for trying isn't going to help much. I've placed guards all around the lab, each with orders that only you, myself, and Adam are allowed in. They're told to shoot to kill if they have to. I'm not letting some political crackpot who believes in magic force us to give up Harry."

A ringing noise felled the irritated silence of the room. "Hello? Yes, this is David Sarif. "

A few moments of silence, "I see. No. No. I understand. Thank you. Goodbye."

A click, followed by a pregnant silence. "The Brits say they don't have a clue about this Dumbledore guy. The Prime Minister's office said they would take care of this however. This smells like a cover up."

Harry drifted, straining to hear more. The darkness claimed him.

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"It's real Megan! You saw it, the same as I did!"

"What do we do David? Adam has spotted them outside the building almost every day of the week now. They've been looking for a way in."

"Harry will finish testing tomorrow. If he wakes up and the augmentations hold, we can decide then."

"They're gonna try to get in sometime soon. By force if they have to."

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"Megan, how soon will the adjustments to his augments take?"

"Adam, I told David this already, the augments are experimental and military grade! This technology is too advanced and too new to be placing in a fully trained soldier, much less a little boy!"

"I know that, but Harry needs a fighting chance. If what Serif has found has any sort of truth to it, then this 'little boy' is going to need as many big guns in his pocket as possible!"

"He's already lost his arms and legs, but now we're turning him into a weapon! We don't even know how the augments will react to his 'magic'. For all we know we're attaching limbs that will fail the moment they are grazed by an enchantment!"

"Serif has gotten in contact with some American spell-casters. They've agreed to help us learn how to block machines and computers from magic. If it works Harry will have another layer of defense on top of everything else we can give him."

"How can they do this? What gives that Dumbledore the right to decide this?"

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"Harry? Wake up sleepyhead. It's time for you to join the living." Harry recognized the voice of Megan. "Come on sweetie, you need to wake up."

"Are you sure he's awake Megan? He looks like he's still in the coma."

"No David, he's awake, the Sentinel Health System is showing conscious brain activity. He's awake and he's faking that he's asleep. Watch."

Harry felt something warm, wet, and slimy enter his exposed left ear and squirm. The little boy jumped to a sitting position and covered the offended ear. "Hey!" Harry exclaimed.

"See? I told you he was awake." Megan stated.

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Four Years Later.

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Harry Potter awoke. Nothing woke him, it was a simple reaction to the 'alarm clock' command he programed into his internal computers. No noise, no vibrations, just instant consciousness from the land of dreams.

The fourteen (soon to be fifteen) year old stretched, then started the day with the usual pattern of activities: bathroom, morning work out, shower, breakfast. The pattern was the same every day, unless circumstances said otherwise.

Unfortunately for him the circumstances were far from his average. Today was the day, after years of legal garbage and threats from the British wizard government, that Harry Potter would be 'returned' to his home country. In Harry's rebellious opinion the Brits could go fuck themselves, and as far as he was concerned Harry Potter was the adopted American son of David Sarif. The only time Harry ever considered going to the U.K. was for a vacation and that idea was destroyed after the first meeting with the Minister of Magic.

Harry was in the middle of his relaxing showers when the first of many annoyances that day began. Harry's Info-link communication system started beeping in his mind. With a thought a display screen opened on his retinal HUD. "Harry?" Questioned the voice of Harry's father. "Are you up son? Dumbledore is here to 'help' you to get ready." The disdain David placed on the word help was obvious.

Harry rolled his eyes, "You mean he's planning on making sure I don't pull a runner?" he responded with his thoughts. Harry was to busy enjoying the steaming water to respond vocally.

Even if he couldn't hear it, Harry could feel his father's annoyed sigh "Harry, I don't like this anymore than you do. You've got to return to England or the U.S. is going to be hit with a full financial embargo. That includes raw gold and whatever other precious metals they can block."

Harry sighed, damning Nicolas Flammel and his philosopher's stone for what felt like the thousandth time since the summer began. "Doesn't mean I have to make this easy for them does it?"

Harry ended his shower at his own pace, taking time to dress in a featureless long sleeved white shirt and plain denim jeans. Harry chose the outfit both because he felt he looked cool enough and he didn't give away any of his likes or dislikes like he would with his favorite quiddich Jersey. He didn't want the British to see anything that they could use for bribery or blackmail. He kept his hands exposed however. He wanted the biased inbred government to have visible proof that they were still in the dark ages and that magic would never beat good old fashioned brains and determination.

With a smile Harry gathered up his possessions: a fifth level bag of infinite holding, and an amulet of power. The Amulet of Power was a simple charm with one or two charms imbued within it. The wearer could cast spells, seemingly without a wand, and had a minor anti-magic barrier. Despite the seemingly impressive magic behind the amulet it was nothing compared to the bag.

The bag of holding was an expensive and outrageous gift from his father. At first glance, nothing remarkable, a gaudy purple bag with gold stitches and pull string. However, the Bag's innate magical power was like its name: infinite, it was an indestructible bag wrapped around a pocket dimension. It took an American grandmaster of magic nearly a year to construct it to David's specifications. It was bottomless, weightless, indestructible, invulnerable, only able to be opened by Harry or his blood descendents, and a massive pain in the ass to the British because it was considered a diplomatic pouch of the American Magical Society. Unlike the regular mundane diplomatic pouches if anyone but the bag's holder opened the bag it was considered an act of war, calling forth the "Rite of Eradication" meaning if the British were somehow able to open the bag the entire magical world would declare total war on the Brits and wipe every last one of them from the face of the earth. Harry was still amazed his father managed to get the bag to be allowed to exist after it was classified as its own dimension.

With a final lingering glance, Harry exited the front door of his father's home for the last time and entered the private elevator that led from the rooftop house into the main building of Sarif Industries. As he always did when he used the company elevator, Harry wondered how many employees knew about the private home at the top of their place of employment.

The ride down was over far too soon for the teen's liking. A stiff feeling was heavy in the air as he exited the elevator into his Serif's office. The moment he stepped into the room, the three men standing in the room went silent. To Harry's immense displeasure the man responsible for his forced departure from his home was there, and apparently the ancient man had the gall to address him. "Harry, my boy-" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off, violently, by Harry's annoyed tones.

"I'm not your boy, and don't you dare speak to me unless absolutely necessary." Harry spoke fists clenched. To his credit, David Serif only smiled, for the past hour the great Albus Dumbledore had been assuring Serif that Harry was just going into a youthful phase and would be happy in England shortly.

The second of the two unwelcome foreigners blustered and looked outraged at Harry's bared fangs. "Now see here young man! You will Respect the headmaster!"

Harry took note of the obese man and his out of date outfit, complete with bowler hat. He was far less than impressed. "Who the fuck are you, and why in the name of the Sorcerer Supreme's meaty man rod am I expected to give a limp British flobberworm's shit what you think?"

The fat man's shade of red darkened a few degrees at the profanity and insult while Serif's smile grew wide enough he had to turn his back for fear of laughing aloud. "I am the Minister of Magic boy! And you will show some respect!"

Harry scoffed, "When you stop being a butt fucked puppet with a death eater's money-made condom still dripping from your ass then I might treat you like less than a rancid drug dealer's shit."

The minister's mouth was wide open and sputtering. To no surprise it seemed that Harry's foul vocal tidal wave silenced the fat man.. Next to the office window Serif was near tears trying not to laugh, while headmaster Dumbledore was deathly pale.

After a few minutes of silence the three adults were able to get their bearings. "Well," Dumbledore started stiffly, "I believe this finishes our business Mr. Serif."

David Serif was normally not a violent man, however the look he gave Albus Dumbledore at that moment gave no doubt to anyone in the room that if he could Serif would kill Dumbledore without mercy. "Dumbledore, if anything happens to my son I swear, I will use everything in my power to end everything you have ever cared about. That castle you are so proud of will be reduced to ruble, the titles you hold will be nothing but ash. If anything happens to my son, I swear to it I will expose the entire magical world and lay the blame right on your shoulders."

It took a few moments for the two bastions of British magical authority to recognize the threat they just heard. "You can't be serious! It would be impossible for you to do such a thing before we stop you!" The minister blustered.

Harry smiled for the first time since he had learned of his future relocation to the United Kingdom, his father's threat meant that David Serif had his trump card ready and played. Even if the two fools in the room didn't recognize it. While the minister was sure that David's threat was a bluff, Dumbledore was well aware of Serif's scale of influence.

"Mr. Serif what have you done?" the ancient headmaster asked, weary of the dreaded answer.

"Harry has been with us for four years. Since then, when you started making your demands, I have been hiding stashes of proof. Proof of the magical world, all over the Earth." The two men started paling when they realized the sleeping dragon they had poked. "For four years now, I have had time, I have had resources, and I have had knowledge to use. Every single person with augments provided by my company, magical and mundane, have all had one extra piece added in with whatever they needed. A wet drive. A special device with all the knowledge I could find about the magical world's history, weapons, and ways of hiding."

The two leaders were both filled with dread, their worst case scenario made living. "Even if you got rid of me, or stopped me from remembering Harry anymore, those stashes remain. As long as nothing Happens to me or Harry, the magical world will remained hidden. However if Harry's augments stop broadcasting his vitals to Serif industries and I stop giving the all clear signal, the entire world will know of what your people have done. There will be no place on earth you can hide. Every protection undone, every hiding hole torn open."

David Serif smiled at the Headmaster and Minister. The smile of a shark that was about to feed. "Now gentlemen, our business is finished."

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The trip from Serif Industries to downtown London was three thousand sixty two miles. It was a trip accomplished in roughly ten minutes of holding onto a golden trophy cup that had six handles on it. Ten minutes of swirling, spinning colors and Harry found himself lying sprawled out in an entrance hall. Judging from the golden statue of magical creatures and the smug posters of the minister's face, he was in the Ministry of Magic. Harry however had more pressing matters.

"Fucking incompetent British portkey bullshit!" Harry swore and vomited his breakfast. Toast, eggs, and bacon in an acidic bath of orange juice were never meant to be tasted in Harry's opinion. Harry's top of the line Sentinel RX Heath system prevented many many illnesses and could repair most cases of bodily harm, one glaring weakness however was always going to be a ten minute build up of spin induced motion sickness. To Harry's credit he only heaved on the minister and a hideous pink wearing toad woman. For two minutes. Then looked at the toad woman and heaved a second time.

The Ministry employees were shocked by the display. After six minutes of heaving many were tempted to add to the growing pool of filth.

After Harry recovered and a few quick cleaning charms, a podium and small stage were conjured in the atrium allowing the minister to stand tall and look pompous, despite being covered in puke moments before.

"My Good Witches and Wizards," the man started, "I bring you great news! Today our community is rejoined by one of its lost treasures! I present to you: Harry Potter!"

The crowd of people cheered, while Harry was not so subtly prodded onto the stage like a pet. Harry was not about to let them think he was here of his own volition.

With a not so subtle shove to the side, Harry move the pompous annoyance off the stage and into the crowd. Harry was pleased to note that nobody moved to stop his fall, nor to assist him after he fell. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Harry began calmly, patiently waiting a few moments as shocked chatter moved about the crowd, "People, Shut The Fuck Up!" Harry bellowed, silencing the crowd.

"I don't know what you've been told, and if its not what I say here and now, your a bunch of mindless sheep and a waste of my time. My name is Harry Potter, I'm the augmented son of David Serif. I am here against my will because your ministry is a bunch of backstabbing financially blackmailing incompetent fucktards. I've met exactly two members of your holier-than-thou government and I can safely say that they have made me hate the whole lot of you."

Once again, Harry's foul audio assault was like a paralyzing curse in its own right, the more the boy spoke the greater the shock of what he was saying stunned the people who long since waited for his return. "I have spent four years dreading this day with every fiber of my being. My father and I have listened for threats from your government for four years. With every passing day the threats and insults being leveled at my home and way of life were enough to make me despise your culture with everything I am."

Somewhere in the crowd a woman could be heard sobbing inconsolably, but Harry was not going to pull his punches because of one woman's hurt feelings. Without a sign of effort or struggle Harry tore the shirt from his chest, exposing his metal torso and fully exposing his arms to the dozens of shocked witches and wizards who could not comprehend what they were seeing. Harry gestured to his external implants. "This is how I am alive. Not magic, not the accomplishments of wizards, pure mundane science. The progress of the non-magical people is what saved the life of your 'treasure'. My father saved my life at great risk to himself, he paid more money than any family in England can claim to build the machines that gave me a life. These machines fused with my body, keeping my healthy and alive, and will continue to do so for decades to come."

Harry paused, taking a seat on the edge of the platform. The people stared at the visual augmentations, the metal arms, the armored chest, some even took note of the pieces of metal protruding near his eyes. "I blame whoever it was who took me from my home, I hate them with every fiber of my being. As it is, in two years when I am a legal adult, I will leave this place once again, and this time I will never return. Ever."

Harry hopped up from his seat, and turned to the utterly gobsmacked visage of Albus Dumbledore. "Can I be sent to my room in the Tower now warden?" Harry questioned with every ounce of teenage sarcasm he possessed.

Dumbledore's biting response was held back when he noticed just how many people in the crowd were glaring at him. Harry had named no-one but Albus was wise to know a political storm was fast brewing and it would only take a wrong word or phrase to see the people revolt. The Boy-who-lived giving such an insulting and rage filled return speech was a pile of dry kindling ready to be lit. If he did anything to point the public's new-found ire at him, he would last less than a day.

"Harry, I'm sure you would enjoy only the best Hogwarts provides?" The Headmaster asked diplomatically. A few of the glares lessened but it could still be his execution if Harry was provoked.

Harry smiled like the devil incarnate. "I'm sure I'll enjoy my stay with you, Headmaster." Harry stated kindly. Dumbledore felt like Tom Riddle didn't seem like as much of a problem anymore.

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Hogwarts Castle matched Harry's expectations and could be summed up in one word. "Antique."

"Beg your pardon?" Inquired the Headmaster. The two were currently walking up the path from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, a speedy floo trip saving them from the political fiasco brewing in the halls of the Ministry.

"Please tell me this place was wired for electrical devices? At least one section?" Harry counter questioned.

"I'm sorry dear boy. Wizards have not developed a way to use muggle electronics around magic."

Harry stopped and gave the man a hard stare. "Your serious?"

"Certainly."

Harry sighed, muttering under his breath about "Stupid lazy magicians..." Harry flamboyantly gestured with his still exposed right arm, which quickly started making loud clanking and beeping noises, the fingers arcing electricity between his robotic fingers as they separated to an impossible degree.

"Old man, your people are very, very far behind the times." Harry stated in a bored tone of voice, continuing the walk to the castle, leaving the headmaster behind.

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The two months between Harry's arrival in Britain and the start of the school year were perhaps the most stressful the headmaster of Hogwarts had ever experienced.

Harry Potter seemed to thrive on irritating or annoying the headmaster. A new toy created was created by Harry in the first week. He called it a 'dung-bomb mine', Harry's contraption was amazing for what it did. Which was spray magic-resistant fecal matter everywhere within range and fill the hallways with a horrible stench that would not leave until the fecal matter was cleaned.

Since the creation of the devices at least one was set off every day, most of them by Dumbledore himself. Harry's next fit of rebellion was to steal every book in the Hogwarts library, then cast transparency charms on them, then leave them in unfortunate areas. The staff, the house elves, and even a few of the post owls all walked into the hidden literary weapons injuring themselves in random areas at the most unexpected times. The prank ended when Harry became bored with his own prank and set all the books to collapse on the headmaster as he exited his bedroom. Albus Dumbledore was less than amused.

Harry continued on his path of annoying Dumbledore and remaining hidden until September first. When the students arrived Harry made to make sure his arrival was noticed, clad in Sandals, American style cargo shorts and a 'tank-top' shirt. Harry chose that exact form of attire, Albus knew, to show off the muggle machinery infused to him. Thankfully Harry had stayed out of sight until the new students were sorted. The ensuing fiasco would prevent and chance of a sorting.

"Hello Hogwarts!" Harry bellowed, "How are we doing tonight?" Harry strode into the great hall, waving to random students and winking at a few of the girls.

The students were whispering and rapidly chatting amongst themselves, each commenting or questioning about the obviously metal limbs. The chatter of the students was even spread amongst the faculty at the staff table, however seasoned with a hint of disgust and confusion. Dumbledore took a moment to cradle his aching head in his bony hands.

One student from the Slytherin table added to the drama by voicing an opinion. "Oh sweet Merlin, whats wrong with his body?" a brown haired boy questioned.

Harry turned to the boy, and marched over. "You know, its polite to introduce yourself to start a conversation." Harry stated with a smile.

The boy looked at his friends for support, only to find Harry still waiting in front of him. "I'm Nott. Theodore Nott."

Harry grabbed Nott's hand, and shook it in a friendly gesture."Pleasure to meet you Theodore Nott, my name is Harry Potter." Cue the startled gasp from the entire hall. At the staff table, Albus' headache was increasing in potency.

Young Mr. Nott relaxed a little at Harry's lack of outright hostility, but was still unnerved by the winter chill of Harry's metal hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter." Nott replied, his pureblood political reflexes kicking in.

Harry's grin turned a bit wider, "So what do you think of my improvements?" Harry questioned, gesturing to his arms.

"It looks like a golem skin of some sort, a metal armor spell?"

Harry looked him in the eyes and replied, "Nope, just the finest robotic limbs mundane science has made so far."

Theodore's face paled, "Mundane?" He questioned, before his mind realized, "Muggle?! That metal abomination is a muggle contraption?" he shrieked, attempting to pull his hand from Harry's iron grip.

Harry's expression remained cheerful, as if he hadn't yet noticed the boy's panicking discomfort. "Yep, my arms, legs, and body in general were so badly damaged at one point that the only way to save me were to have robotic augmentations placed within me."

At this point, Harry decided a little dramatic flair and two black reflective lenses emerged from the metal slots around his eyes. It gave him a vague appearance of an insect, and had the effect of Nott doubling his struggles to get away from Harry and his unrelenting grip. "Let me go you mudblood freak! Get away from me!"

Harry still smiled, even as his hand charged with over a million volts of electrical power. The heir of the Nott family didn't even squeal as the energy force consciousness from his body. Theodore's knocked out form rolled out of his seat and unto the unforgiving floor. At the moment the surge electrified Nott, Harry released him.

"My first family died because of bigots who use that word... it really, really irritates me."

The moment Nott hit the floor, a dark haired man with a large hooked nose leaped from his seat with his wand extended. "Potter! What did you do to him?" The man demanded.

Harry's augmentations scanned the man using the 'Eye-know' retinal prosthesis, within 0.13 seconds Harry Potter had downloaded and learned the majority of the man's publicly known history. "Potions Master Snape," Harry began, addressing Snape with his internationally recognized title, "I was simply teaching young Mr. Nott a lesson. Namely, do not be a bigot anywhere near me or around me. When I see bigotry I tend to act a bit... harshly."

Snape's wand never lowered a centimeter, "You didn't answer my question Potter. What did you do to render Mr. Nott unconscious?"

Harry glanced at the heap that was Nott, an action hidden behind the visors covering his synthetic eyes, "Oh. That. I just pumped him full of about a million volts of electricity. No more than a super charged stun-gun."

Snape turned to Headmaster Dumbledore with a myriad of emotions playing out on his face, the most obvious being anger, "Headmaster, the boy just confessed in front of the whole school that he attacked Mr. Nott without due cause."

The headmaster shook his head in the negative, "Alas Severus, I cannot. Due to Harry's 'status' we cannot expel him from Hogwarts or the contract that keeps him here in England will be broken." Dumbledore stared straight at Harry, "I know what games your playing Mr. Potter, however just because your keeping yourself from being sent to Azkaban does not mean you will not be punished."

"Isn't that just like the leader of the light to support the blood purists. You fucked up old hypocrite. " Harry spat viciously.

"Language Mr. Potter." Dumbledore chided gently.

"Since my good mood has been ruined by unpunished bigoted slurs and your hypocrisy, can I get sorted now so I can eat then go back to pissing you off until you release me and I can go home?"

"Hogwarts is your home Mr. Potter."

"No, my home is in Detroit. Hogwarts is my prison, and you are my warden. Now shut up and sort me. I've got two years to burn before your ministry's contract expires and then I'm gone from this god forsaken land."

"Very well, Minerva the sorting hat please?" Dumbledore gestured and one of the teachers placed a stool and a very old hat in front of Harry.

"Lets just get this over with." Harry yanked the hat on his head and sat on the stool, grumbling under his breath.

"This is interesting..." a voice drawled in his head.

"Oh you are shitting me. A telepathic hat?" Harry questioned back.

"You are an odd one Mr. Potter. These... improvements of your make it quite difficult to sort you. I daresay you are the greatest challenge I have ever had."

"Okay, then to sum it up for you hat: I am here against my will, I want to see the government burn to ashes for what they've done, and lastly I want to go home to my dad and get my freedom back."

"Is that all Mr. Potter? If so better be..."

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Harry Potter was doing what he did best when utterly pissed off. Burning holes in the atmosphere with a loaded arsenal of pyrotechnic spells. He was particularly fond of the infernal flamethrower and delayed blast fireball spells. Thankfully Harry was launching his arsenal across the Hogwarts lake, where the searing flames could fizzle out harmlessly.

"Dad, do you read me?" Harry activated the info-link built into his head. "Come on old man, we both know you've been waiting for me to call, now answer dammit!"

"Harry?" David Sarif's voice answered, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? Do I need to send Malik and Adam to pick you up?"

Harry smiled despite the situation. "I'm fine dad, just royally, royally pissed off. I've spent the last two months doing everything in my power to piss The head-bastard off and all he does is smile. I stun gunned a student right in-front of him and he didn't even lift an eyebrow! I practically called him a racist bigot and he just sat there and took it! He acts like a fucking saint!" Harry ranted.

"Keep calm Harry, at most it is two years, once your an adult to them they cannot keep you there. Just don't do anything illegal. Thanks to that stupid loop-hole if you get kicked from Hogwarts we can break the contract, but the headmaster has to expel you from the school. Don't do anything illegal enough to get the law involved. Your freedom depends on you either graduating their crappy school or being allowed to leave it by choice."

"I know. The school year is really gonna piss me off however."

"Why is that?"

"I got sorted into the Lion house, you know the one that full of magically superior bigots who pretend they're better than the 'evil' bigots."

"Harry I know you hate bigots, but please try not to permanently maim anyone. Remember if it gets to bad, find a place to hide and hop into the bag. Its got a fully built replica of our house in there."

"I know dad."

"Also, keep your eyes out for any manipulations, I wouldn't put it past the old bastard to try to bribe you into staying."

"I know dad."

"Keep in mind that in the worst case one of Lord frenchy's old minions will want to try to hurt you to revive their cause, if that happens all the rules go out the window. First sight of an assassin you send out the S.O.S. And I'll have a full team en route within seconds."

"Does that mean I can use-" Harry started.

"No! The Diabolus has never been tested in such a magic heavy environment. It might save you, or it could burn out all of your augments in seconds." David scolded.

"Fine, I still say I can handle it."

"Harry its not a matter of if you can handle it. It what it could do to you. You've got plenty of other tools at your disposal. If all of that and whatever magic they teach you isnt enough then the Diabolus wouldn't cut it anyways."

An alert popped up in Harry's visor, the 'Wayfinder' Radar was picking up someone approaching. "I gotta go dad, someone's coming and I don't wanna do the two conversations at once thing."

"Call me when you can son, and take care of yourself."'

"Bye dad."

The overly grumpy potions master entered the scene, wand in hand and sneer on his face. "Talking to yourself Potter?"

Harry tapped the side of his head, "Nope, Built in communicator. The Sarif Industries Info-link Telecommunications Package. I speak or think it, they hear it. Thanks to satellite technology, I can talk to my father from anywhere in the world without problems."

If anything the potion master's sneer grew more pronounced. "Your a liar and a fool Potter. Muggle technology will not work on Hogwarts' grounds."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose feeling a migraine coming on. "Okay, I'll just cut this short. Your an idiot, I'm part frigging machine. If my electronics didn't work here I would be dying or dead right now because I'm missing too many vital organs to live without my machine parts."

Snape turned a shade of puce, apparently students hadn't called him an idiot in quite a while."How dare you! Your an arrogant whelp just like your father."

"David Sarif is a great man, and runs one of the biggest augmentation and computer companies on the planet, selling to both magical and mundane worlds. He's got a damn good reason to be a bit arrogant, whats your excuse?" Harry spit back.

"That muggle piece of dirt isn't who I'm talking about!" Snape yelled.

"Then who the fuck are you on about? James Potter? He's not my dad, hes the bloke who banged my mom then died, that's it. They were my birth parents and that's it. I don't remember them, I don't care about them. As far as I care the vaunted boy-who-lived died with them too. If you've got a beef with James Potter then go piss on his grave." Harry turned to walk away, not paying attention to the confusion playing about on Snape's face.

Snape was stunned, nobody had ever insulted James Potter in front of him. For years Snape had hated and loathed the spawn of James Potter, but here was someone who didn't hero worship him for his sacrifice. His own son no less! Desperately Snape's anger searched for some reason to hate the child, anything would do. Then Harry's words hit him, the boy didn't even care about his mother's sacrifice! The very reason Harry lived was because his mother gave her life for son. And He Didn't Care!

"How dare you!" Snape cried, twisting about and launching a non-verbal cutting curse at the boy's backside.

The spell struck along Harry's left shoulder blade, a move that should have removed the boy's left arm. Instead, the metal limb was completely untouched, the magic washed over it upon impact and dissipating. Harry turned, a frown upon his face, "I'm going to give you one second to explain that before I break you." Harry stated calmly.

The fact that his curse had no effect was lost to Snape's rekindled rage, "She loved you enough to die for you, and save you from the dark lord... And You Don't Care! Sectumsempra!" He bellowed with fury.

The flash of light sliced from Snape's wand to Harry's chest, slicing over his heart and lungs. A Curse that would instantly slain a normal man. For Harry it ruined his tank-top, the ruined cloth sliding off.

Harry glanced at the destroyed piece of his wardrobe, "I really hate the fact that I can't kill you." He stated.

Before Severus Snape's astonished eyes Harry briefly glowed yellow, before fading from sight altogether. Not a sound, nor trace, nor stray hair gave the boy away. Snape swirled about, looking for a target, before feeling a fright train ram into his back, followed by two powerful strikes to his stomach, followed by a knee shattering blow.

The now crippled potions master fell to the ground, dropping his wand. The pile of grease that called itself a man, stretched out his hand for his wand only to feel a foot step upon both, snapping the wand and grinding the shattered tool into his hand causing great pain.

Another blow to the face removed his mind from the conscious realm.

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After leaving the 'injured' body of the school potion master laying sprawled out in the hospital wing, Harry took to doing as he had been for the previous two months since his imprisonment, wandering the school.

The ghosts were boring, the kitchens mildly entertaining, but the majority of the school held nothing of interest for the cyborg. No mystery, no magic, nothing to keep his augmented brains busy. The topic of bedeviling Dumbledore was fun for a while, but with no progress on that front it quickly lost its worth.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Harry questioned how he was going to get through the two years necessary for his freedom.

Before Harry's thoughts could drift towards the morose and angst filled, a diminutive and squeaky voice cut in, "Mr. Potter. Might I have a word?"

Harry glance around, finally noticing a short man who was looking at him with intent beady eyes. "Um...Hello?" Harry tried diplomatically.

"Mr. Potter, I am Professor Flitwick. The Hogwarts charm master and dueling expert."

Harry was confused at the polite introduction, that did not meet the fierce glare the man was possessing. "How can I help you professor?"

"You can answer a few questions for me, Mr. Potter. First, what exactly is your problem with the Headmaster?"

"So that what the glare is for..." Harry matched Flitwick's glare with one of his own. "My problem with the head-bastard is that he assisted in my legalized kidnapping, and forced me to come to this country without taking into account my family's interests or my own."

Flitwick shook his head at Harry's words, "The Minister, the ministry, and others all had their part as well. You seem to have a particular venom towards the Headmaster. Why?"

Harry's glare increased. "Some things are better left in the past, Professor. Some people make mistakes, the better people try and make up for it, the worst of humanity will keep repeating it. Mark my words, if the headmaster keeps up his mistakes with me I will hang him with his own stripped flesh and gladly kiss a dementor for the opportunity."

Flitwick paled, "What could he have possibly done to deserve such fury from you?"

Harry eyes narrowed at flitwick, no longer hidden by the visors. For a brief moment Harry's eyes glowed with an infernal light, not magic, nor technology, it was as if the pure fury of the nine hells flowed out of the augmented boy's eyes for an instant. "Go to your glorious 'leader of the light' ask him about a man name Vernon Dursley from Surrey. Ask him what that man did to deserve his execution. And ask him how I came to be in that monster's hands."

Harry turned away, once again glowing with yellow light, and vanished from sight.

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"Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion. "

~Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism