Blank Mask

Summary: Raised as a tool by both Dumbledore and Danzou, Harry never really thought of being anything else. That was until Sai reached out a helping hand. Dark fic but with a good ending, Bad! Manipulative! Dumbledore, character deaths. Shippuuden world. ROOT!Harry

Disclaimer: I might as well tell you all that, yes I own them all MWHAHAHAHA. Sorry, just kidding. Otherwise I would have made the Harry Potter Anime already.

Warnings: This is a fic with a lot of dark themes. It will get better at some point. Things like death, blood, gore, rape and abusive language will be main themes in the first few chapters. I'm sorry if this upsets people. Expect short chapters.

Take nothing for granted…

Changing masters

The young man was standing silently in the office, his green eyes fixed on his Master while his wounds continued to drip blood on the carpet. Wild, black hair stuck together as drying blood of the one he had just killed clotted together. Pale scarred skin was hardly visible underneath all the dirt and seemed to be healing quite nicely as the Potions Master continued to administer potions and salves to his patient.

"It is done then?" his Master asked, those blue eyes hard as steel and his body regally stiff.

"Yes Ma- Professor," he caught himself just in time. His Master would never have forgiven him if he had addressed him with anything else as Professor while in the company of others. "The mission is complete."

His Master nodded in approval and a strange kind of pleasure washed through him for a moment before it dulled out. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to have feelings. Feelings got in the way of his mission and would hurt the people around him. He was a tool; to be used by his Master as he wished and only useful as long as the mission existed. Now that the mission was completed he was no longer of use to his Master… unless he was given another mission.

"You have done well my boy," his Master said with a smile to fool the Potions Master who was still in the room. His Master seemed displeased about something. Was it because the missions had finished or was it something else? Should he kneel, maybe even crouch down to let his Master satisfy himself again? Before he could act on rash instincts which may or may not satisfy his Master, the older man turned towards the Potions Master. "That will do Severus. Go now and rest. I'm sure your students will have a lot of questions."

The Potions Master hesitated and seemed to be looking at the remaining injuries, but sighed in a resigned way. "Very well. Good evening Headmaster." And the man left with one last glance at the injured teen. The moment the door closed, he kneeled before his Master with his head bowed in submission.

"You have done well over the years my boy," his Master said and by the rustling of clothing he could tell that his Master had decided to move around his desk to stand in front of him. "Though the death toll was great on both sides, I'm sure they can all rest peacefully now. Tell me, how did it feel killing your only remaining family?"

The youth stiffened for a moment before lowering his head a bit more. "Empty."

The walls were splashed with blood much like they had been when he had still lived here fulltime. Though this time the blood was from the people he had lived with. The walrus-like man he had been forced to call Uncle lay face down in his own pool of blood. It was obvious what had killed the man. Thousands of deep and shallow cuts littered the man's fat body and traces of a much darker magic lingered around it. The smell of copper had filled the air and it seemed to cling to the dust which had started to settle. The man had been dead for a while then.

The one thing he noticed most was that the man had been in the process of doing something unspeakable before he had been killed. Traces of seamen had stained the sheets and urine had mixed in with the blood on the floor. Out of the three inhabitants of this house, the walrus had been the one to let the possible killer inside of the house.

The wife was in the kitchen and, out of the three, no trace could be found of what had killed her, but the youth knew. Traces of dark magic which lingered on her body… there was no mistaking it. The killing curse was the thing which had robbed her of her life. Lingering for a moment so he could close her startled eyes which stared unseeing out into the world, the youth moved to the living room.

Crisps crunched under his feet and stuck to the bottom of his shoes because they had mingled with the sugary drink which had spilled across the floor. Glass from the broken coffee table glittered on the floor and most likely in the large belly of the child which was lying across it. Surely it was only because the heavy child had fallen on top of it that the coffee table had been broken. There was no other evidence which proved him wrong. No wooden splinters littering the floor between the soft stuffing of the sofa that had exploded. No, the piece of wooden leg which had bored its way through the heavy child's neck was the reason for his demise. The blown up sofa had only been the instigator.

Like a ghost the black haired youth moved from room to room, removing all evidence of him ever residing in this house. For a moment he stared at the television and watched the rabbit being chased around by a stubby man with a gun. The picture fascinated him a little. Was the rabbit running away because he was scared? But why was he taunting the man who he was running from? Or was the man holding the gun scared of the rabbit and was this the reason why he wanted to shoot the rabbit?

Blank green eyes turned away from the moving picture and continued to remove his presence from the house.

"Empty hmm?" his Master asked. "I guess that is only to be expected from a fully trained assassin. But what about those two who used to follow you around? What were their names again? Ah yes, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. You killed them too, correct?"

It was true. Everyone who had been killed because of him… the list was long.

He knew that they were just the first of many. The redhead had been first to die, throwing himself in front of the girl when a cutting hex was aimed at her blind side. It had taken a long time for him to die and all the while he had begged for the ones attacking them to spare the others. The Death Eaters had laughed at his wish and soon the redhead passed on.

Maybe it was better this way. Ronald Weasley wouldn't have lasted much longer against the torture and fighting. He wasn't trained to be a fighter after all.

The girl lasted longer than he had expected. She proved to be strong and quite knowledgeable. Like the boy she wasn't trained to be a fighter either and in the end died a worthy death. She had looked and spoken to him for a long time before breathing her last breath. "Emotions aren't a weakness," she kept repeating. "Emotions make us human. You cannot continue to ignore them Harry."

He turned away from her and had been trying to come up with a plan to deal with the Death Eaters as efficiently as possible but she continued to speak to him. "You were not responsible for the deaths of your family. You're only human, Harry."

She was wrong. He had never been human, just a tool to be used by his Master and to be disposed of should he fail. Or when his mission would be over.

"How many have you killed?" his Master asked, bringing the youth back to the present.

Black hair swayed slightly when the head was tilted to the side in thought. "Two-hundred and sixty two," he replied softly. A wrinkled hand appeared in his line of vision and, without pulling away,the youth let his Master raise his head. Green eyes stared into blue ones and for a moment he wondered if his Master would kill him right away. But the youth knew that his Master didn't kill. He had others to do the killing for him.

The hand started to travel slightly, thin fingers pressing against his lips, stroking his ears and hair before moving towards his neck. The youth tilted his head to suite his Master's wishes and he closed his eyes when the much older man lowered his face. A knock, almost perfectly timed, interrupted his Master's plans and the older man tsked in annoyance. "It seems that my time with you is up already my boy," he said, straightening and calling a sharp "Enter".

The door swung open and almost soundless footsteps signalled the entry of a man, old but fit. This man was strong in body and mind. The youth could tell from just his footfalls. He had let his head drop the moment his Master's hand left his cheek but he could see the new man's feet out of the corner of his eye. The man radiated a strange and dangerous aura. Much stronger than his Master was or even Tom Riddle's had been.

"It is good to see you again Dumbledore," the man said. His voice was as powerful as his stride and had a strange accent to it, twisted and full of deceit. Prying eyes seemed to scrutinize him for a while. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything."

His Master moved back to sit behind his desk, the place he felt safest and most powerful as the youth well knew. It was here, in this office and at that desk, his Master had first taken him after all. "Not at all," his Master replied, sounding a little annoyed. "In fact you are right on time, Danzou."

"I take it this is the boy you spoke off," the man now identified as Danzou said. He seemed disappointed somehow. "He is a lot older than I expected."

"He has been with us for sixteen years after all," his Master replied. "He will turn seventeen in a few months. It will be then that he will have reached his full magical potential."

"Yes," Danzou sneered and those prying eyes were back on him again. "Your special chakra called magic. Such an extraordinary blood-line limit. It would be interesting to see how well it works with our chakra. But didn't you say he would be old enough to train? Seventeen is not the age we agreed on."

"It's not a problem," his Master said, shifting a little in his seat. Whatever had happened, it was causing his Master distress. A strange energy swirled around the room before latching back onto the person it had come from. There was a moment where no one spoke or moved, causing doubt to stir inside of him. Why wasn't his Master, or that other man, saying anything? What had caused them to fall silent?

Suddenly his Master sagged inside of his seat and the youth had to fight with himself not to look up. Why was his breathing so heavy now? What had happened that had caused his Master such great distress? "I see," Danzou said, seemingly unfazed by the silence which had transpired. "I take it you were going to do this sometime soon?"

"Y-yes," his Master replied, a slight tremor in his voice. "The b-boy needs to be in full h-health for the potion to work." His voice returned to normal with each new breath. "This will probably be tonight."

"I see," Danzou muttered, seemingly thoughtful. "And where is this potion now?"

"Will you take him already?" his Master asked, trying to hide his surprise.

The other man tapped his cane against the stone floor harshly. "Did you think I would leave the boy in your care for you to whisper sweet nothings into his ear for much longer? From this day forth this boy is mine as per our agreement. Why would I leave him here?"

His heart rate sped up. Was this surprise or excitement? The youth released a breath without a sound. His fingers tingled and he felt slightly dizzy. Without drawing attention to himself, the youth flexed his hands and wiggled his toes. It wouldn't do to look bad in front of his new Master. Changing hands was something he had done often, especially when he had been younger. Since coming to this school, he had a constant Master who had given him a long term mission. So it would be logical to either finally be killed because he no longer had a purpose or for him to change hands again. It seemed that he would live a little while longer.

In the meantime Dumbledore and his new Master had discussed their agreement. Or rather, his new Master had laid down the law and Dumbledore had only the option of obeying. He had been clear of mind when he had made the contract after all. And with their 'negotiations' coming to an end, his new Master turned towards the youth who was still kneeling on the office floor.

"Do I need to explain to you what will happen next, boy?" his new Master asked. The youth didn't respond, not that he was given the time to do so, and the older man placed the bottom tip of his cane on the youth's shoulder. The metal tip dug into the already wounded shoulder, but the youth remained unfazed. He was used to pain after all. It was his only reminder that he was still alive. "It seems you understand quite well, but I will explain it to you anyway. Your old Master has given you to me as per our agreement made when your mission here was drawing to a close. This agreement stated that I would get you, the ultimate weapon of this world, for information about my own. This agreement also stated that you would reach your magical maturity by this time but still be old enough to be trained in the ways of my world. This would mean that you would have to be four years of age when you would enter my care."

For a split second their eyes met, green eyes filled with confusion as a lone black eye stared back at him. The other was bandaged like most of his body giving the impression that the man was heavily injured, but every fibre of his being screamed at him that this man was more dangerous than even Voldemort on a bad day.

The cane dug a little deeper into his shoulder and the youth lowered his head immediately. It was all the time he had been allowed. "I see that you understand my problem when I first walked into this office. Your old Master seems to have a potion which will solve this problem. Get it for me."

The order was direct and the youth stood to obey the order, ignoring how the cane seemed to have made the wound worse. The Headmaster flinched back and was already going for his wand, but the raven head was faster and stronger. While he had magic, the youth had learned early on in life that his speed and strength could often be used to persuade others. So without remorse he snapped the older man's wrist and enclosed his hand around his old Master's throat, squeezing lightly. He didn't need to ask about the potion or where it was kept. The man was already sniffling and gesturing towards the bookshelves to his right where a few boxes were kept. "Top right," he gurgled.

Green eyes narrowed slightly before elbowing the man in the face to stun him. It wouldn't do for the Headmaster to shoot him while his back was turned. The youth dashed to the bookshelves and rummaged through the box which seemed to hold several different potions, and even a few candy wrappers, before digging out the potion vial which was labelled 'de-aging potion'. It couldn't have taken more than a few seconds which seemed to have impressed his new Master.

"Very good," the older man muttered while examining the vial with a curious expression. "You will learn how to make less of a mess while in my care. And how to do a proper clean-up. For now, let us leave. We have a long journey ahead of us and I want you in the program before the week is up."

"Wait," Dumbledore said, standing hastily before dropping back down and cradling his broken wrist. "What about our agreement?"

His new Master fixed an icy stare at the injured form of the Headmaster. "Did you really think I would give you anything concerning our world? I am a Shinobi, wizard. This means that I live surrounded by secrets and shadows. You think that your society is well hidden, but why do you think no-one has found out about us yet? Boy," his new Master snapped and the youth jumped to attention. "I see no reason for the existence of this man."

"Yes Master," the youth replied and with swift precision the Headmaster ceased to exist.

A/N: What do you think about the prologue? I feel a little bad for updating this new story when I haven't even finished any of the other stories I'm writing. I haven't been able to write since I got back from Japan though (which is like a month or so ago now) and I got loads of new stories lying around. So I apologise to all you lot waiting for an update on any of my other stories. I'm not going to promise that I will update any of them soon, but I am working on them.