16 Fanfic #16 Code Magic by Mirrorball10(CodeGeassXHarryPotter)

Edit: I just found out that this story was deleted, so this story is dead. I'm going to try to see if the rest of the chapters are posted anywhere, but for now the link doesn't work.

Double edit: So the link is on our very own website, so you'll be able to read what was posted for this story.

This is a fanfic with a scheming Lelouch reincarnated into the the world of Harry Potter as a Lestrange.

Synopsis: When the Lestranges were sent to Azkaban, they left behind a baby - the son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Lelouch Lestrange is quiet and unassuming - as much as possible for a tactical genius who had conquered the world once, anyway. The board is set, and neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort have the slightest idea what they're up against.

Rated: T

words: 44k

https://m.webnovel.com/book/code-magic-a-harry-potter-fanfiction_19881893705626505/catalog?utm_source=amp&_gl=1*1dlj4eu*_ga*YW1wLUFDWFQyd2JIckZ6T0Z3UHRvam51LThBNDNYVi1RVUpBendKdjdROVQ1NmR5aWR4YkV5S2tPYnU1MnE1MXVZclU.

Here's the first chapter:

The days that followed Lord Voldemort's downfall at the hands of baby Harry Potter were, in Bartemius Crouch's opinion, absolute chaos. Wizards and witches paraded about in brightly colored robes in full view of Muggles, celebrated wherever and however they pleased and any attempts at hiding their indiscreet behaviours were met with indignant yelling that resulted in even more unwanted attention.

Worse by far, of course, were the despicable actions of leaderless death eaters. Hours after the Potters were killed, their betrayer, Sirius Black, killed thirteen Muggles and a wizard in broad daylight. Numerous other incidents took place, though there were no more fatalities.

All of these took a backseat to Bartemius when the attack on the Longbottoms' occurred.

To think that his own son could have done such a thing... that he would use unforgivables on Aurors... shame the Crouch name so thoroughly...

He could not remember a time when he had been so thoroughly incensed. He drifted through the trial and sentencing in a red haze; his only priority was to make sure that the harshest punishment had been doled out to the criminals. His wife wept and begged for him to reconsider, even long after it had become clear he would not budge. He tried to tune her out completely, but it was still a relief when a young ministry worker - he couldn't place his name - approached him hesitantly and provided him with a distraction. "Yes?"

"Sir, if I may... what should be done about the Lestrange boy?"

"What boy?" he barked, his mood immediately souring further.

"The baby, sir. I think they called him Lelouch? He's about one."

Ah, yes, he vaguely remembered hearing about a Bellatrix spawn. "I don't see what need there is to fuss about two death eaters' offspring. Give him to an orphanage."

"Should we... maybe... conceal his heritage, sir?"

"That he's a Lestrange?" Bertemius grimaced in distaste. "Of course not. And make sure the child is never adopted. Let's see how his parents like it when their own son has to grow up alone."

The young man looked very pale. "But... Sir..."

"Did I stutter?" he snarled.

The man wilted. "I'll...I'll see to it, sir."

Ten years later:

"Checkmate."

There were an assortment of groans from around the table. "How the hell... you must've cheated!"

"I don't see how I could have, with your supporters surrounding us as they are," the winner said calmly. "Now, seeing as the odds were ten to one, I believe you owe me five thousand pounds."

"I can just have you turned in for underage gambling, L. L.," the man threatened.

"You could, I'm sure. However, that would also mean outing yourself as an illegal gambler. You wouldn't want that, would you? Especially considering your family reputation."

"You son of a bitch."

There were loud murmurs of disapproval around the table at this. The winner, however, only smiled.

"Not the first time I've been called that. The money, please."

Grudgingly, the man fished out the wad of cash and handed it over. His opponent took it, swept a dramatic bow at no direction in particular, and left the room, leaving the aristocrat stewing on the fact that he had just been beaten by a thirteen-year-old.

Lelouch Lestrange slipped quietly into his room through his window, pulled the hood off his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. In moments, his features transformed, his facial structure reverting to that of a child not older than eleven. After giving himself a quick lookover in the mirror, his violet eyes shifted to the worn-looking clock on the wall. It was fifteen past two in the morning.

Sighing quietly, he kicked off his high heeled shoes before laying down on his bed, messaging his soles against each other with a little grimace. It was a shame that his metamorphosis ability did not extend to changing his body shape. Thirteen was the oldest he could make himself believably look when his height remained unchanged.

Lelouch had performed his first spell at six years of age. Not his first bout of magic, mind. His first accidental burst of magic had come years earlier, after which he had started focusing on learning to control his power to suit his needs. It was an intriguing experience - testing the range of his abilities without any guidelines whatsoever.

It wasn't that he had seen no one else with the same ability. That had been... a whole other can of worms. When he was seven years and three months old, he had once found himself sitting on a park bench near King's Cross station, unable to remember an hour of his life. It had nearly sent him into hysteria. After calming down somewhat, he had revisited his memories, concluding that, as incredible as it sounded, one hour of his memory had been erased. The last thing he remembered was entering King's Cross in pursuit of a cat that he was quite sure had been reading a road sign.

He had gone back to the station after that, many times, but had found nothing amiss. And then, after a year on the exact same date - September 1st - his efforts had paid off as he concealed himself in a crowd and watched people walk into and seemingly through a wall between the 9th and 10th platforms. He had also seen firsthand the casting of the spell that had to have erased his memories.

Obliviate. How unoriginal.

More intriguing had been the devices used to perform the spell. Wooden sticks, referred to as 'wands'. Apparently, all children with magical abilities were allowed one when they were eleven and accepted into 'Hogwarts' - a magical school, presumably.

It was quite interesting, and a little alarming, the amount of information one could find on these 'wizards' and 'witches' by simply observing them for one morning.

Not that he had been content with a few hours. No, he had gone back every year on the first of September and the end of June(there seemed to be a bit of variance on when school ended) and gathered as much information as he could. He knew non-magical people were called 'muggles'. He knew there were racial prejudices concerning how much magical ancestry the children had. He supposed that would make him a 'mudblood', the term for muggle-born people that were so derogatory it had resulted in the speaker's parents shushing the girl frantically while glancing around in panic.

And he knew his Hogwarts letter would arrive tomorrow. Or technically today, as it was past twelve o'clock. His eleventh birthday. Physically, anyway.

Lying back on his bed with his hands behind his head, Lelouch stared at the ceiling for a few moments, wondering if dreams would plague him tonight. Visions of towering mobile war machinery, flowing pink, red, purple hair splattered with blood, a sword impaling him through the heart -

Wide violet eyes set in a delicate face framed by long sandy hair, soft hands grasping his, anchoring him until his lifeforce drained out.

Nunnally. His little sister. The person for whom, in his visions, he had fought, destroyed and then saved the world.

He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. He had been waiting for this day for three years. No matter how much his brain wanted to rebel, he needed to rest tonight. Breathing in a steady pattern, he removed all thoughts from his head, forcing his mind into a blank state as he focused only on the motions of his chest rising and falling.

Sleep came not long afterwards