This idea has been badgering me for quite a while now, so I guess I’ll just tell you about it...
Basically, Giotto is a Squib of the Potter line who decided to go into the muggle world and make a difference with the knowledge he had from his upbringing.
He wasn't banished. But his parents told him quite calmly, that while they can work around him not being able to cast magic until he's 17, after that he’s an adult and they can't always be there. So he’ll have to build himself a life in the muggle world.
Ricardo was a Black and also a squib. So Ricardo was banished from the family.
Ricardo’s mother however was a Potter. Giotto’s aunt to be precise.
She wasn't exactly happy about her child being banished. But she was not actually the Lady Black so she had little to say on the matter.
Still she doesn’t take it lying down and reaches out to her little brother the Potter Lord.
(”Little brother dearest, could your son please look after my son until he can do so himself?”)
And yes, both names are assumed. Ricardo had a constellation as name and Giotto a type of candy or pastry because I cannot get the giotto advert out of my head.
(”Mon cafè solo con Giotto.”)
Also: Giotto has a very bad sense in naming things.
(“Honestly, Giotto, Vongola? What are we? A pizza? I am certain it will only become more ridiculous as time passes. For example I am fairly sure your preferred baker is comtemplating calling one of his creations after you. So to future generations you would be known as sweet pastry clam.”)
Flames are not new to the magical world. But they're just there. Nobody bothers to explain them to Muggleborns. Why should they. Everybody knows. How can you not? (So duh, Harry doesn't either.)
So when the whole problems with their missing heirs start, the CEDEF, because Iemitsu is freaking naïve like that, decides to send Lal Mirch to train Harry. (Iemitsu is Vongola by blood, so he knows about their family history in case they have a witch/wizard somewhere down the line. And Iemitsu’s a bastard if it doesn't concern his lovely Nana and cute No Good-Tsuna.)
Summary: You are Acacia Potter who is also Skull de Mort. This chapter you continue to annoy a certain hitman, make friends of the undead variety, and start a new career with the goal of becoming a local hero to children.
<< to previous chapter
It takes him a while, but Sideburns-kun makes good on his promise to find you. You’re twenty-four now and have joined another circus, currently in Vienna. It really is quite the fun life, includes lots of travelling around, interesting people to meet, and of course, bike-driving. The fame can get annoying, but whatever! At least this time, it’s for something you enjoy doing, and something you actually did. No one’s having world-saviour-delusions over Skull de Mort who takes being an idiot and an egomaniac simultaneously to a whole new level.
Actually, being as famous as you are, it’s a minor miracle it takes Sideburns an entire year to find you. Or maybe he was too busy being the greatest hitman in the world to find that really annoying stuntbiker who is somehow responsible for turning his butt into a permanent-for-three-weeks reminder that he got owned.
You sit on the steps of your circus wagon enjoying the sunshine as much as you can wearing your biking outfit and helmet when he stalks up to you. He doesn’t have his gun drawn but an aura of sheer Doom surrounds him, people wisely get out of the way. “Sideburns-kun!” you greet. “Long time no see, my fedora-wearing best friend!” You try to hug him and fail in an epic way that results in you tripping and hitting your helmet on something hard.
“Oh my,” Sideburns grits out. “It seems you tripped. Let me just take you somewhere private so I can make sure you aren’t hurt, dying, and in excruciating pain, lackey.” He bends down, grabs your boot, and drags you to your wagon.
You decide to be difficult and start shouting. “No! Woe is me! Must fate be so cruel?”
“Fate, no. Me, yes.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, I was addressing the world!” You try kicking him. It’s not working, it may have something to do with the way he’s dragging you up the stairs pretty much upside down. “Tell my family the Great Skull-sama loves them!” you shout at the world. Experience should have taught you that the world would ignore you.
“Have fun with your friend, Skull!” the bearded lady waves and winks at you.
“Nohohooooo!” you wail before the darkness takes you. Then Sideburns lets go of you and flicks the light on. Which has you lying at his feet but not blinking stupidly because your helmet’s visor is enchanted. “Hi!” you greet from the floor.
“Hello, lackey.” He makes a simple greeting sound threatening. Both Riddle and Snape could’ve learnt something from him, he’s bloody intimidating.
“’Sup?” you ask. “You neglected me! You took a whole year to find me! Greatest Hitman, my arse, you just don’t like me!”
He glowers at you. “It’s quite funny. I tracked you to Romania and you ‘had just left due to a private matter. In Bulgaria, I am suddenly assaulted by Triad members in various stages of dress. It turns out you never were in Ireland.” His tone gets softer the more he speaks in a really unsettling way. “And in St. Petersburg, I was delivered this.” He holds a napkin in front of your face. In familiar handwriting and purple ink, something is written on it. “Almost got me, Sideburns-kun! Better luck next time… if you dare,” you read the words out loud. Beneath the script, there’s a rather amusing drawing of a stick figure with a hat being mowed over by a bike with another stick figure on it.
“You poor thing,” you say. “It appears you have been the victim of a cruel prank.”
“Indeed,” he hisses, and oh, he’s pissed. “Your cruel prank.”
“Framed! I’ve been framed!” you protest indignantly. “I would never prank my great friend Sideburns-senpai!”
You already know his real name though. He calls himself Reborn and has indeed the reputation of being the Greatest Hitman. He’s firmly entrenched in the Mafia World and widely believed to be affiliated with something called the Vongola Famiglia, though officially he works freelance. Just because you don’t believe he’s capable of killing you doesn’t mean you’re an idiot about a hitman stalking you.
He holds the napkin before his own eyes. “Signed, the Great and Immortal Skull-sama,” he reads out dryly. “This is your handwriting. The waitress saw you writing it.”
Of course she did. You were the waitress.
“Ahaha!” you laugh nervously. “What’s a little prank between friends!”
“We,” he snaps, ripping the napkin into tiny shreds. “Are not friends.”
You make a mournful noise. “But Sideburns-senpai! After all we’ve been through together!”
The click of a gun makes you shut up. He’s aiming at your face. You’ve charmed the helmet bullet-proof, though, so you aren’t that worried. Anyway, you can probably take him if it comes to that.
“My name is not Sideburns.” You look at his sideburns. Then you look into his eyes. They’re like the abyss. How are you even still alive? The world he comes from does not frown on murder.
“Your sideburns are pretty nice, though,” you answer in a jolly tone. “How’d you get them to curl like that, Sideburns-senpai?”
“That is not my name and the curl is natural.” There are people that seem to get calmer the angrier they are. He’s one of them and he must be positively fuming. It makes you all giddy inside.
“Huh.” You tilt your head, examining said curl. “Wow. It’s like, the Eighth Wonder of the World, Reborn-senpai.”
You throw yourself to the side just as the gunshot rings. Thank Merlin you’re so flexible! “So you do know my name. Who do you work for?” he snaps out.
“This circus?” you say in a questioning tone, because duh. He really should have guessed that?
His eyes narrow. “Helmet off,” he orders.
“Nope!” you answer cheerfully.
“Now.”
“It’s stuck!” you protest.
He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Stuck,” he echoes.
“Yep!” you demonstrate, appearing to try lifting the helmet off of your head but in fact activating the sticking function which makes that impossible. “Stuck.”
Reborn puts his gun away and tries to get the helmet off. It doesn’t work, instead he ends up holding you up by your helmet. “What the hell,” he says.
“You can let me down now, senpai,” you point out. Instead of listening, he tries shaking you. “Oww! Stop! Yeowtch!”
“Huh. It really is stuck,” Reborn remarks.
“I told you, you arse!”
“Ho?” he asks dangerously. “Is that any way for a mere lackey to speak?”
“Go to hell!” You pause for a second. “I mean, ahhh! I’m sorrryyyyyyyy!” you wail then at the top of your lungs at a pitch that has him twitching oddly.
He draws his gun again.
Someone knocks against the wagon door rather forcefully. “De Mort! Rehearsal is in ten minutes! No blowing off this time!” someone shouts in German.
“Be right there!” you shout back, pushing the gun away and heading for the door. Reborn looks even more pissed now. “You gonna watch?”
“I believe I will not.”
Shrugging, you leave him in the wagon. It doesn’t look like he’s out to cause trouble, and you’re happy so long as the Triad folks don’t show up. Not that you can’t handle them, but well. It isn’t much fun dealing with them either. They have even less than a sense of humour than Reborn.
Hmm. You wonder if he’ll find it as funny as you do when you fuck off to Transylvania after rehearsal. Better send him souvenirs so he knows you’re thinking about him…
Transylvania is nice at this time of the year and you now have several vampire friends, sixty percent of which are named Vlad. They’ve been great on advice on souvenirs to send home! You sure hope Reborn enjoys the package filled with all variations of blood pops you could find. You’ve even sent him pictures with your new friends.
This is me and my friends Vlad and Luc at Chateau Calcassa. The sights are quite enjoyable and tourism is minimal seeing as you can only get here on wings or flying vehicles.
On this picture, I am enjoying a hunting trip with Vlad, Verena, Luc, Vlad, and Kazimir. There’s bears around here which is fun.
Here we are at a masked ball. As you can see, I went as myself, Vlad is a bat, and Verena is that girl from that movie with the giant wolves that talk. She even brought her Direwolf to make it authentic.
You hope Reborn isn’t too confused by the fact that your vampire friends are invisible in the pictures…
The vampires are a bit put out that you won’t join them permanently. You promise you’ll visit. Or they can visit you! There’s lots of advancement on sunscreens in the muggle world. And if they get temperature-charmed biking suits, they won’t even need those! Trips during daytime are completely feasible even for vampires! Nutrition isn’t really a problem either, it’s really funny the things some people consider delicacies, people will get away drinking animal blood easily if they claim to be enjoying foreign delicacies.
They say they’ll consider it. Vlad in particular seems quite taken by the idea. He’s been stuck in the woods for ages now and quite amazed when you tell him the kinds of things you’ve seen in the world.
You pat yourself on the shoulder as you leave. You’ve certainly been a great help to the Calcassa Clan!
You go touring the world again. Go see the Niagara Falls, drive over the Himalaya so you can send Reborn a selfie from there. You’re such a good friend.
After that you feel the urge to settle down someplace and become a local hero which will result in invitations to parties and free food. Hm, how to go about that? You’re not really into the Dark Lord fighting thing, besides you did that already and there’s no Dark Lord available anyway.
The perfect plan comes to you in a dream. Divination tells you that it means you’ll die a horrible death. Screw divination, though.
You did consider buying a house in Italy for yourself once, so that’s what you do. It’s a little ways away from a charming little town, a wonderfully spacious villa built on a cliff, at the foot of which you have your own private beach. There’s even a large cave you can access from there, where you decide to keep a ship. You still need to get the ship and you’ll probably need a crew, but whatever, that’s details.
Villa de Mort has everything you want in a home. Not that you have high standards. A bed, a kitchen, a bathroom, you could be happy with just that, as long as there’s a garage for your by now numerous bikes. You’ve got quite the collection now and carrying them all around with you is getting tedious.
Good for you, your villa has a few basement levels built directly into the cliff. Well, actually, you are the one to build them into the cliffs and add expansion charms, but that’s details.
You could probably store an airship down there. Now there’s an idea...
The grounds around Villa de Mort are extensive and gorgeous in an untamed way. You do enjoy gardening though, so you turn one of your basement levels into a garden. Neville’s free for the summer so you invite him over. He’s quite happy about the invitation, he and Hannah had wanted to take a vacation apparently but so far their jobs haven’t yielded enough money to go out of the country. You’re happy he’s happy. Hannah is happy everyone is happy and also that she gets an entire villa to help decorate and stuff. She likes that sort of thing. Also, she and Neville have the renovated guest wing to themselves and you cook for them all the time, that’s awesome too.
So yeah. It’s nice having old friends over and your garden kicks arse. You’ve charmed the ceiling to be like the one in Hogwarts, you can even transport rain in here. There’s a forest, a lake, tons of flowers, access to the beach. It totally rocks.
In a surprise visit, Luna drops by with her new boyfriend. She brings a bunch of creatures with her that she apparently saved and needs some space for. They’re self-sufficient, really! She says. And the demiguise will keep them in line, promise. Okay then, Luna.
It’s really nice catching up with old friends. You decide what the hell and invite Charlie, Andromeda, and Teddy over, too. And Bill and Fleur so you can talk about wards and stuff. You found some interesting stuff on your travels you want to show them anyway.
By the time you’re back to being alone your villa is fully furnished, decorated, and warded. Your garden is its own biosphere with several supposedly extinct creatures, Neville and Hannah are engaged, Teddy’s got his own tree house, and Charlie may or may not have hatched a sea snake down in your cave. You don’t really want to know. If it decides to show itself at some point you’ll at least have someone to talk to.
With all that stuff your ingenious plan to become a local hero had been put on hold. But no more!
Two weeks later you are the nearby town’s most popular person, at least within a certain age group. For you have constructed an ice cart! You’ve even composed a jingle so when you play it, you get mobbed by squealing children wanting ice cream from Florean’s - You named your cart in honour of Florean Fortescue who gave you free ice cream all the time and helped you with your summer homework. You’ve tried to recreate some of the flavours and been moderately successful, though you’ve got a lot to learn still.
So yeah. Local hero to children, accomplished. You make a killing, too. Everyone now sort of thinks your name is Florean, but eh. Who cares!
The whole business proves fun at the suggestion of some townspeople, you open a café. De Mort’s sells tea and coffee, pastries, cake, and of course ice cream and yeah, it’s vastly successful. You only own the place though, you don’t really work there. You still have world travelling to attend to.
Summary: In which the writer is testing out writing from 2nd person POV which means you are Acacia Potter, the Woman-Who-Won. This chapter, you barely manage to avoid drifting into angst, develop a male persona out of boredom, meet an annoying hitman and literally own his arse.
Cirrus Clouds: Detached clouds in the form of white, delicate filaments, mostly white patches or narrow bands. Cirrus clouds are always composed of ice crystals, as a rule when these clouds cross the sun's disk they hardly diminish its brightness. Before sunrise and after sunset, cirrus is often colored bright yellow or red. These clouds are lit up long before other clouds and fade out much later.
It’s a hot day in Italy. It is a stupid thing to note. The days here are all hot, especially in summer. You shouldn’t have come in summer. Maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. You don’t even really know why you’re here.
Then again, you don’t know why you do a lot of things these days. How did it start? You just wanted to get away, you suppose. From Britain, from the strangers that think they know you, from the friends you thought knew you, but they don’t, not really. How could they, when even you don’t know who you are some days. Acacia Potter is an empty name and you who are stuck with it are empty, too, drifting without purpose. You’re a tool that did its job and now you’re supposed to look pretty in a display cabinet.
You didn’t fit into the cabinet. You used to fit into a cupboard under a set of stairs, but now you’re too tall for it. Too much for the men and women that try catch your attention, too. Some managed, for a while, but you lost interest eventually. Your friends weren’t happy about that. George was a perfect gentleman, wasn’t he? You liked him, didn’t you? And you could both have done with a little cheering up after the war, don’t deny it.
You liked Charlie better, though. He was more adventurous. More daring. His past wasn’t so entwined with yours, you liked that. You fell out of love with George and into friendship with Charlie. He showed you dragons and those kept your attention for a while. Maybe you missed the danger of the war back then. You did try the whole Auror thing before, but that didn’t even last half as long as your relationship with George. It was the display case thing, you guess. You didn’t get to go out and catch Death Eaters, oh no, not you, precious Kacey Potter. You were far too busy being sent to Ministry functions to hold speeches and look nice in newspaper pictures. In training, no matter what you did, you were praised, never criticised. They made you show them spells even though they were supposed to teach you. Practice duels - your opponents went in there expecting to lose against the Woman-Who-Won, and so they did. There was no challenge, only frustration. Just like with George, and aren’t you horrible and selfish for leaving him when he’d lost Fred, his other half.
What about what you lost? Or rather, what about what you never had in the first place?
You died for George, for Teddy, for Ron, for Hermione, for Luna, for Neville, for Ginny, for all of them. You don’t have to live for them, too. Maybe that’s why you left.
Charlie got it. Molly wanted him to stay in England to stand in for Fred, and that was fine for a bit, of course he wanted his family taken care of, but he wasn’t Fred and she wouldn’t understand or listen, so he went back to his dragons and you went with him.
You liked the dragons and you liked Charlie, but the dragon reserve wasn’t where you belonged, so you left again. But everywhere magical you went was the same and people knew who you were. You’re in history books, magazines, even magical science books. You survived the killing curse twice, you defeated Tom Riddle, you are a noble lady and filthy rich to boot, wizards and witches anywhere know who you are. In the places that they don’t you never stay because they tend to be isolated and ill-educated. As if Britain wasn’t bad enough.
The magical world bored you so you found the muggle one again. You had to study up on a lot of things so you could reconnect, you hadn’t even noticed how much you had begun to disregard non-magicals since learning you were a witch. Isn’t that weird? You grew up among them.
You were still bored, though. You tried staying in some places, but eventually none could hold your interest. You dated some men, some women, but it never worked out. When you visited Britain, you barely found common ground with your old friends, the ones that still talked to you after you left George days after rejecting his proposal. You should have just loved him like he deserved, why couldn’t you do that little thing? They called you selfish and spoiled, your fame must’ve gone to your head. Now, you don’t visit Britain anymore except to visit your godson.
Maybe you should have died with Voldemort. But you came back from King’s Cross because you felt like there was still something out there for you, and since you had nothing better to do, why not look for it? Just because places and people eventually bore you, doesn’t mean you don’t find them beautiful before they do, doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy meeting new and interesting people. Places bore you, but you could never grow bored of the world at large, it is so vast and amazing.
You’ve become an adrenaline junkie. The thrill of danger when you go parachuting or rock-climbing is addicting. Maybe that’s why, when you see a battered bike at a yard sale, you buy it. Or maybe it’s because Sirius might have taught you to drive a bike, had he lived, and you like how it makes you feel connected to your late godfather.
Driving a bike is even better than riding a broom, you find. Brooms have so many safety-charms built in which takes some of the thrill away. Bikes though, something about the roaring of the engine and the feel of the road passing under you, it just gets to you. You love it. You begin to do stunts with the bike. You make jumps, flips, drive off of high places. Finding that the bike isn’t really built for stuff like that, you buy yourself a new one that was made for stunt driving. The old one you begin to enchant like Sirius did his so long ago. You don’t use magic much anymore, and you have to look up a fair few things in the number of books you’ve acquired, but in the end you can combine bikes and flying into one. The flying bike is much more comfortable for travel than your Firebolt, and faster too. It reaches Thestral-speeds.
Your stunt bike sees more use though. You grew tired of many things, but stunt-biking wasn’t one of them. Sometimes you got distracted from it, but this is what you love.
One time in China, you picked up some martial arts. When you took a punch to the stomach, you noticed something odd - it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. You just breathed the impact away. There wasn’t even a bruise later. You never seemed to have bruises at the end of the evening.
Being Kacey Potter, you tend to get into trouble at times, and those days seeking the thrill of adrenaline was more often than not the reason for it. That time in China, you ended up fighting in an underground fight club. You weren’t the best of fighters, hadn’t done martial arts for long. You’ve always been tenacious and scrappy though, growing up the way you did, and you know how to fight dirty. More often than not you walked out of those fights the winner, though you did get hurt often. Which suited you just fine, seeing as the whole point of the exercise was to find out just what the heck is happening to your injuries.
It’s not really healing. It’s more… repairing. Your body repairs itself whenever you get hurt. You had to skip countries eventually when someone brought a knife to a fight and you ended up stabbed in a way you shouldn’t have stood up from. That was the first time you saw the purple fire doing the repairing thing on your body, and that was the first time you got involved into a Mafia fight; the Triads were quite unwilling to let you leave China. You didn’t really care about their opinion, though, and you’re quite good at disappearing. Magic has to be good for something, after all.
You laid low after that episode, though. Stayed far away from any fighting. Somehow ended up travelling with a circus for a while. You used Skull de Mort as your stage name, a final fuck-you to Voldemort. Your sense of humor is a bit weird these days, you like the thought that Riddle would turn in the grave he doesn’t have if he knew that his old moniker is in any way related to a muggle entertainer’s stage name. You find this so inappropriately funny you develop the most obnoxious and ridiculous stage persona for Skull you can imagine - loud, dumb, arsehole-ish.
Circus was fun for a while, you might do that again in the future. You’ve noticed that you don’t age as you should, much slower than the average witch, so you can probably look forward to a long life. What with your weird purple fire healing you from anything you’ve suffered so far, you might actually manage to die of old age someday.
You’re in Italy now. One of the clowns told you that this was the most beautiful country in the world. You’ve never been here before, it always struck you as too close to Britain for your comfort. It isn’t actually that close, but you do know that some Pureblood families have Italian ancestry, like the Zabinis. You’re planning on sticking to the muggle world, though, so it’s not an issue. It’s been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts anyway, the hype around you must have died down by now, you probably wouldn’t get recognised. Especially not since your black hair is no longer growing out of your head in that colour. It was gradual, but purple, the same shade of that odd purple fire, has been bleeding into the colour of your hair. Your eyes aren’t as green as they used to be either, and you no longer need glasses. Your scars have disappeared entirely. When you visit Teddy, you now employ glamour charms.
You cease your reminiscing in favour of looking around for somewhere to cool down. A beach might be nice, but in this weather the crowds will be awful. Maybe you should invest into a private beach. Aside from the hideously hot weather, the country really is gorgeous. You could see yourself having a house here. Not too large, but not too small. With a nice garden big enough to fly around over it, and space to drive your bike. Maybe something on the country. On a mountain, possibly? Somewhere secluded, though.
Speaking of your bike, doesn’t it have temperature charms all over it? Oh, why didn’t you think of that before? Why didn’t you just use a cooling charm? Ah yes, you forgot the incantation. Haven’t hit any books lately, have you?
You duck into an alley. A wave of your wand has your bike unshrunk from the charm bracelet you keep it on along with broomstick and stunt bike. Another spell and you’re wearing your biker suit and helmet. You look like Skull de Mort now. Mounting the bike, you are relieved that the temperature charms work just fine because the biker suit would be really uncomfortable in the heat.
You make to drive, and then suddenly a weight sits itself on the back of your bike and a gun is pressed to your head. “Drive,” is snapped at you in measured Italian, and considering the shouts coming from further back, as well as the loud engines, yes, driving might be a good idea.
You don’t take well to orders though, so gun-toting arse is in for an uncomfortable ride. You’re Skull de Mort, after all, and your unwanted passenger better hold on tight if he doesn’t want to end up a smear on the sticky asphalt.
You drive as if the devil possesses you, leave the pursuers behind quickly. Arse on the back of your bike has to stash the gun away pretty damn quickly so he can sling his arms around your waist like a vice while you tear around corners and take curves so tightly you’re practically horizontal on the street. At one point, you jump over a giant hole in the middle of the streets where construction guys are doing something with gas pipes. Your passenger makes a strangled sound halfway between horror and elation, and you’re finding this pretty damn fun.
You finally stop in front of your hotel, though, and the arse climbs off. It’s public space, so he leaves the gun wherever it is he put it. You meanwhile lean against your bike and study him. He’s tall, wears a tailored suit and a fedora that you have no idea of how it stayed on his head during the crazy bike chase. You can’t see his face, it’s shadowed by the fedora, but you note that there are some very impressive curly sideburns framing it and that his chin is pointy.
He looks like a Mafia assassin. Maybe you should ask him if he is one.
He says something in Italian that sounds haughty and faintly mocking. You decide to be annoying almost instantly. “Kneel before the great Skull-sama for he has saved your life, Sideburns-kun!” you crow in Japanese, using your most Annoying Voice™. He twitches very oddly and you mentally pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done, at least until Sideburns-kun bridges the distance between you impossibly fast and you suddenly have a gun pressed to your stomach where no civilian can see.
Now, you are fairly certain that you’ll survive a gunshot, it should be much less messy than being gutted with a knife, but the Triads are still looking for you and you really don’t want to traumatise the children currently on this street. Also, it’ll probably hurt, you won’t enjoy that at all.
Sideburns-kun hisses in clipped English, proving that he must have recognised some British accent in your Japanese, “You will take me to my hotel, Lackey, and you will be very grateful for being able to work for me.”
You mentally shrug. Eh. If he wants another bike ride from hell, who are you to argue? Sideburns-kun probably regrets it, judging from the curses he shouts at where he must assume your right ear is beneath your helmet. It’s hilarious, you laugh your arse off. Inwardly, anyway.
His hotel is the most pretentious place you’ve ever seen. Well, okay, that’s an exaggeration. You’ve been tons of places. It’s just an average pretentious hotel. But it’s the most pretentious hotel you’ve seen today!
Sideburns-kun climbs off your bike quickly. You give him a one-fingered salute and shout, “Remember this auspicious day on which you met the great Skull-sama, Sideburns-kun! Treasure the memory of being able to bask in my glorious presence-”
Someone pokes your leg. Distracted, you turn to find a little boy with ice cream in his hands. “Are you Skull de Mort?” he asks you. “I saw you in a circus!” A distressed mother runs up.
“Dominic! I told you not to ask every biker you see-“
“I am!” you shout gleefully. “I am the great Skull de Mort, best stuntbiker to ever have lived! The Immortal Skull-sama!”
The boy squeals and hugs your leg, looking up at you with adoring puppy eyes. “You’re so cool!”
“I am! Want an autograph and a picture?”
“Yes, Mister Skull!”
You happily oblige, Sideburns-kun forgotten completely.
“I want to be just like you, Mister Skull!” the boy tells you.
“But then you wouldn’t be you!” You protest. “You would be me, and that would be weird and your lovely Mama would miss you! Wouldn’t she?” You shoot the mother, a pretty thing with freckles all over her face and grandma-glasses perched on her nose, a smouldering look. Of course, she can’t see it what with the helmet you’re wearing, but she giggles and blushes anyway. You give her an autograph, too, and kiss her hand for good measure (okay, you just lift her hand to your helmet) before driving off into the sunset to her and her boy’s admiring gazes. Okay, it’s afternoon and there’s no sunset, but the sentiment counts! The handful of glitter you threw into the air should make up for the lack of sunset, at least.
You make it back to your hotel - a cozy, completely non-pretentious place that serves amazing tiramisu - and through the next two days without further incidents. Then Sideburns-kun shows up again, waiting in your room when you come back from shopping for a spare helmet. “Sideburns-kun! You couldn’t resist the magical pull of the glorious Skull-sama’s presence?!” you crow.
He looks like a Mafia assassin. He has a gun, a suit and a fedora, he’s probably one. But don’t judge a book by its cover, Skull! Remember how much trouble that can get you into? You better ask, but make it seem innocent. “Are you a Mafia assassin?” you ask innocently.
“No,” he says, pointing a gun at your face. Uh. You can probably survive a gunshot, but maybe not one to the face. Can you regenerate brainmatter? Let’s not test that, ‘kay?
“Cool!” you answer him. “I mean, you look like one, but I wasn’t sure, and the great Skull-sama is far too amazing and smart to judge someone by their looks! You’re quite attractive, actually.” Butter him up, that usually works. You’re a pretty girl, he’s a guy. Of course, you’re still wearing a helmet and your biker suit conceals anything feminine about your statue, and Skull de Mort is widely believed to be male, but flattery is flattery.
“I’m the World’s Greatest Hitman,” he continues, then smirks. “And yes, I am aware of my outstanding looks, but thank you kindly for pointing them out, lackey.”
Hitman, assassin. What’s the difference? Is there one? Probably. Maybe you should ask. Maybe you should wait with that until he points the gun away from your face. That would be nice. In the meantime, butter him up some more. “Nice! We’re gonna be like, The Terrific Twosome! The Daring Duo! Best buddies forevermore, Sideburns and Skull!”
Sideburns-kun is resistant to your buttering him up, and you’re suddenly on the ground with his neatly polished shoes placed on your helmet. The gun’s now pointed at your chest, though. That’s better than your face! “Shut up, lackey,” Sideburns-kun says in a terrifyingly soft tone. “You will drive me to a certain location. You will wait while I enter. You will drive me to my hotel afterwards. And, lackey, you will do this every day until I have no use for you anymore. And if you decide to leave-“ He fires the gun. You feel the bullet slide along your suit and bury into the ground close to your neck. You yelp obligingly. “-then I will find you and punish you.”
“Ahahaha,” you laugh, kinda pissed off because you’re no one’s lackey and he can shove his gun up his arse for trying to make you one. But, you’re also not in the mood for fighting - he probably likes fighting anyway, no need to reward his arseholery - so you resolve to be as annoying as you can possibly be. “Sure thing, senpai! The Great and Glorious Skull de Mort is at your service forever and ever! I will stick to your side like superglue! Like that glitter you can never get rid of! Like peanut butter to jelly! Like fingers to a hand!” Wait, no, fingers are detachable. Actually, can you regrow fingers? Huh, something to think about.
Sideburns-kun fires again and this time you feel a slight burn on the skin of your neck. “Good lackeys are silent,” he says menacingly.
“I’ll be the best lackey ever! Just watch me lackeying around, Sideburns-senpai!” You are decidedly not silent and Sideburns’ annoyed twitch is delicious to watch.
It’s even more delicious imagining the face he’ll make once the prank enchantment you put on the back of your bike yesterday (just in case another gun-waving arse jumped on it) activates. Though it might take him a while to find Owned by the Great Skull-sama written on his arse in bright purple.
By the time he finds out, long after you’ve driven him to and fro, you’re well out of the city. He’s gonna hunt you down and punish you? Ha! You picked the wrong target, Sideburns-senpai.
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Harry Potter crossover
Warnings: Blood, gore, mentioned character deaths
Summary: They called it the Radiance. The day the world lit up. Seventeen years later, in a world hostile to humans, hunter and scavenger Harry Potter just wants to make his way home.
Something is watching him. But then, the Wastelands are never really empty. Just emptier than the rest of the world.
Movement in the corner of his eye. Harry resists the urge to turn and walks on. Dust wells up with every step he takes, the whistling wind obscures the imprints of his heavy boots. A look at the compass that always points to Haven, and he adjusts his course a minute bit.
Whatever watches him, it doesn’t attack. Instead it follows him, which suggests some manner of intelligence. Whether it plans to attack once he sleeps or recognises that Harry is capable of defending himself is debatable.
He keeps his crossbow at the ready like he always does. He hasn’t survived this long by relying on just magic. The dangerous creepers are resistant anyway.
Hours later, he finds an abandoned shelter, hardly more than roughly hewn stones stacked on top of each other to form walls. A metal sheet makes up the roof. It’s all Harry needs, though. The tent was with Nev when he got separated from the team. Damn corroded portkey.
“Duro,” he murmurs, pressing his hands to the walls, hardening them. A sticking spell ensures that the roof won’t get blown away, after that he charms it harder as well as well.
There’s no door, so Harry hardens a blanket over the entrance.
He’ll have to renew the charms, they wouldn’t last through the night.
If he had a wand, he might be able to do more, but those are hard to come by. Unicorns went extinct. Dragons didn't, but they are too hard to kill to expend the effort just to get a heartstring. And phoenixes are too rare. No one he knows had ever actually seen one since the Radiance.
Even if they had materials, there’s the matter of wood. It’d require finding a healthy, normal tree. If Harry ever found one, he sure as hell wouldn’t chop it. No, he’d bring it back to Haven for the others who might figure out how to grow more.
Night falls, and with it comes bitter cold. His cloak provides some warmth, having warming charms sewn in, so it protects against the worst of it. Not sure how long it'll last, he's had it for a while now.
Scrounging around in his pockets, he turns up a ration bar that would keep him going for a few days. Mum always insists that they all have some on them at all times, even at home. Just in case. Just like they always have to have weapons on them and protective cloaks and boots and amulets.
The night is long. The wind howls like it always does. And whatever had been stalking him during the day is now trying to get in, scratching at the walls, jumping on the roof. It tries to tear through it, but only makes horrible screeching noises against the metal.
Harry pulls out his notebook. Paper, too, is a precious commodity. They have some at Haven that they can duplicate, and his notebook is charmed to never run out of pages. But paper is damageable, not made to weather the elements. These days they hardly ever find legible books on scavenging trips.
He whiles away the hours by drawing. Things he’d seen, the shack, the wastelands. Notes on the area, maps of it, notes on the weather. If he didn’t make it back, maybe someone would find the notebook and report back to his mum.
At dawn, he makes his way outside. He doesn’t know just how far away from Haven he is, his compass can’t tell him that. Long-distance magic rarely works anymore.
His stalker sits on a large rock, hungry black eyes with red pupils fixed on Harry. A Revenant. There’s blood staining its mouth, indicating that it got to feed sometime last night, but Revs are always hungry.
Harry studies it. It stares back, hissing an odd shishishi noise, and swipes its clawed fingers in his direction. Saliva drips from the mouth that is twisted in a demonic-looking grin, revealing sharp fangs still bloody from whatever it fed on.
It must be fairly new. The clothes it has on look mostly intact, it still has shoes, even. Oddly enough, there’s a tiara on its blond hair.
Harry eventually shrugs and turns, on his way once more. If it didn’t attack, he wouldn’t either. Most survivors of the Radiance think Revenants little more than zombie-like flesh eaters that would devour any living being in their never-ending hunger. Harry isn’t really any different, but he’s got good instincts, and he just can’t forget that they used to be people once, mutated by the radiation.
Hagrid had been a friend before he’d turned. Then he’d attempted to devour Ginny and killed Frank and Dedalus before Alice and Charlie could stop him and put him rest. Harry was seven back then. Two months later Ron had fallen to the radiation as well. He’d been too young to remember it, but Aunt Petunia’s husband nearly killed her and their son two years after the Radiance because of turning Rev.
They have the amulets now, and Luna's Mum had devised wards to keep the radiation out of Haven. But the memory remains.
The Revenant keeps stalking him as he walks, trotting after him, sometimes on two feet, sometimes on all four of its spindly, too long limbs. Sometimes it bounds ahead and leaps on tall rocks to survey him from above with a predatory grin, saliva dripping from its mouth.
Sometime in the early afternoon, its attentions shift to the sky, it stares up with unerring attention. “Shishishi,” it cackles. Harry follows its gaze. Something’s flying there. A large bird. Too large. He shifts his crossbow, aims.
Something makes him glance to the side.
The revenant is watching him with eerie focus, like it knows exactly what Harry’s doing with that crossbow. It shishishies mockingly, as if enjoying Harry’s alarm.
Harry shoots the not-bird when it’s just above them. It only takes one shot. He never misses a shot, not after so many years of practice.
The moment the bolt hits, the revenant goes for the corpse.
“Wait!” Harry calls.
It freezes, looks back at him, hisses angrily. Harry freezes, too. Calm now, no sudden movements.
“I need the bolt back,” he says soothingly. “I don’t got much ammo for my crossbow. You can eat the bird. I ain’t hungry, promise.”
It hisses again, crouches in a hostile way. Its eyes are fixed on Harry’s weapon. Slowly, Harry lets it sink, shifts it on his back, raises empty palms. Which really should give the Rev more alarm, but he’s got no way to know what Harry’s capable of.
After a moment, the beast backs away slowly until the dead bird is between them. It’s an ugly thing, large, disproportioned. Only the wings are feathered, the rest of its body is covered in scaly skin like a snake’s, its head is snake-like, too. The crossbow bolt sticks in the soft underside of its belly. Harry swallows and crouches down, shuffling closer, not taking his eyes of his stalker.
He reaches for the bolt and yanks it out.
It happens in an instant. The snake-bird’s eyes spring open and it goes straight for Harry’s throat. At the same time there’s an infernal snarl and white claws grab its neck before it reaches Harry. The Revenant snarls at Harry and then dives down. The bird shrieks and flaps its wings while it is devoured alive.
Harry raises an eyebrow and lowers his Soulfire-filled hand. He turns away from the carnage. Stupid rookie mistake. He should have shot the damn bird twice more to be safe.
Though it was rather enlightening to see that the Revenant does apparently have an interest in his continued survival.
That night, he hunkers down in a tiny cave. It’s secluded enough that he risks making a tiny fire.
His revenant companion eyes it curiously, hovering just outside the wardline Harry had drawn. “So,” he says. “Since ye’re apparently stickin’ around, how ‘bout we give ya a name?”
“Shishishi,” it cackles.
“Are ya okay with Shi for a name?” Harry asks. Hostile hiss, bared teeth. “’kay, that’s a no.” Harry tilts his head and considers the tiara on its head. “How ‘bout Prince?”
It stops hissing. “Prince it is.” Harry studies the newly named Prince. “Why haven’t ya attacked me yet?”
Prince just cackles mockingly. Harry shrugs. It isn’t important anyway. “Well, my name’s Harry. Seventeen years old, scavenger and hunter, Child of the Radiance.” He pauses. “That means I was born after it happened.” Harry scratches his head. “Though you probably don’t know what happened. Most people don’t. Muggles assume it was jus’ nuclear fallout.”
Prince tilts his head.
“Ya actually understand what I’m saying, huh?” Harry murmurs, studying him. “How odd.”
But then, weirder things had happened. Just look at Ginny... but that's neither here nor there.
“Okay, I’ll tell ya ‘bout it.” He opens his notebook, thumbs through it to a page at the beginning. There’s a picture of an ugly snakelike face. He shows it to Prince, who snorts in a rather unimpressed way. Yeah, there are lots of scarier creepers around now. “There was this guy named Voldemort. Dark Wizard Lord. Tried ta take over Magical Britain for some stupid reason or other, ain’t really important no more. My parents were some of the ones fightin’ him, but that ain’t all that important either.
“Anyway, Voldemort decided that his forces weren’t large enough, so he went recruitin’ in other countries. Got pissed off ‘bout some stuff, had a bunch of people assassinated. Sent some in a panic. Problem is, that was during the Cold War, which the magicals had their own version off. An’ Voldemort just went and killed off the ones who pissed him off, who just happened to be the guys keeping everyone from murderin’ each other.” Harry turns the page to a picture of Fiendfyre. His Mum had even animated it for him. “Didn’t take long for someone to send the magical equivalent of a nuke at someone else. Not sure who made the first move, but the others continued it. Then the muggles of course thought they were getting attacked since they didn’t know shit ‘bout magic, and sent actual nukes at their muggle enemies who they thought did the attacking, and boom. We call it the Radiance. When the world lit up.” Harry laughs bitterly. “Not sure how much of the world population died then. The real shit happened afterward. See, atomic bombs cause nuclear radiation. Which is bad enough on its own, seein’ as it causes cancer and shit. What wasn’t common knowledge was that some of those magical weapons of mass destruction, they had radiation, too. Magical radiation, which would normally have affected only magicals, which woulda sucked enough, but the nuclear radiation somehow affected muggles in a way that made them susceptible as well, and then it was animals and plants too and…” Harry rubs his hands over his face. “And then there were the biological weapons. Combine that with radiation of any kind, and you get this.”
He turns the page to images of wasteland. Monsters. Revenants.
“Most of the plant and animal life was destroyed. Most of humanity, too.” His mouth twists. “During the Radiance, the air was saturated with magical radiation and caused pretty much all technology to crash. No more phones, so no communication. Heating or air-conditioning? Forget it. When the weather went crazy, too, people froze or got heatstroke. Everything dependant on electricity was dead. On the magical side, the magical radiation fucked up all ranged magic, and by that I mean all magic that needs to travel farther than ten metres. Wards corroded, then crashed. Houses held up by magic collapsed. Apparition inevitably led to splinching. And then we have this.”
Harry shows Prince the next page. “Magical plants,” he spits darkly. “Normally kept in greenhouses under lock and key. They got out. And they thrived. I once saw a Venomous Tentacula that devoured an entire village. And a Devil’s Snare the size of a castle that could walk right in the sunlight.” He looks at the Revenant. “The drawing on the page shows exactly that. Harry shudders. “Many magical creatures were warped, too, and they are dangerous, but the plants are the real danger. It’s why the surviving humans stick to the dry Wastelands and salt the ground they don't need. Plants need water. Or blood. Most of everything that didn't die turned carnivorous.”
He looks at his revenant companion. “And then there are the humans,” he says softly. “But ya know that part, don’t ya? Turning into ravenous flesh-eaters, beasts driven only by hunger. Inhumanly strong and fast, resistant to magical attacks, supposedly not capable of reason. How come ye’re different?”
Prince snorts. Harry sighs. “Whatever, buddy. Ya mind if I draw ya?”
He could have sworn that the revenant preened just now.
The wardline fails while Harry is asleep, but he’s still alive when he wakes up. Prince is curled up next to the fire. Do Revenants need warmth? Harry never wondered before. Generally, if he saw one, he’d shoot them down. From a distance.
Mentally shrugging, he conjures them some water - most important skill for survivors everywhere - and gets a move on after drinking.
The company is a bit dubious, but it’s nice to have some at all.
“My mum, she was an Unspeakable,” he tells Prince. “A magical researcher. An’ when that shit went down, she said screw it, she’d keep her unborn child safe, grabbed husband and what friends she could find, an’ holed up in the Department of Mysteries. It was underground and pretty much the safest place from outside attacks. When they went outside again, London was gone, an’ pretty much the rest of the world, too.”
“Shishishi,” Prince says.
“Yeah, it sucked,” Harry answers, choosing to interpret the Revenant’s noise as commiseration, though the disconcerting grin suggests otherwise. “They scrounged up what survivors they could find, Mum went and found her sister and her family, an’ then they left the country, Britain wasn’t really liveable anymore. Got bombed, too, ya know. Not sure if it was magical or muggle bombing, but it hardly matters. Anyway, my dad’s family was loaded, they actually had a magical cruise ship, so they took that to leave the country. Went to France first, family had a vacation manor there. Stayed there a bit, until the giants started coming down from the mountains and Greyback and his werewolf pack started seizing territory, then they took the ship and went somewhere else.” Harry looks around. “This used to be called Italy. Ya probably knew that already.”
“Shishishi,” Prince cackles.
“The ship got damaged in a storm. That was ‘round the time the magical radiation started corroding even enchanted objects and runes. Anyway, we’re stuck in this country now. Made a home here, sort of.” Harry sighs. “People started turning Rev about two years after the Radiance. Mum says no one coulda seen it coming. The radiation had slowly poisoned everyone for years by then, all it needed was a trigger. Not everyone mutated, but more than enough - one outta seven. My aunt’s husband was the first of our group. Then a few years later, Hagrid. Half-giant. Nicest man in the world, good friend. No one saw it coming. He’d been eating more than normal in the days before, and complained of pain in his joints. That’s all. Then my friend Ginny, she saw him standin’ there droolin’ in the backyard. Went up to ask him if he was alright. He stared at her and then- well. Lost some good men that day.
“My friend Ron, he was next. The adults, they thought children were safe, ‘cuz our bodies could adapt to the radiation or some shit, was the assumption. Then Ron, he’d always been a bit of a glutton so no one thought much about it when he ate more in the days before. Then he turned, and his accidental magic went boom. And he was near the greenhouses. So the harvest was small that year, and a lot of the seeds were destroyed, too. They had to start going out and get food from outside. Didn’t work out so well for a lot of people.”
Including Harry’s dad. James Potter was ripped to pieces by a herd of bowtruckles that had grown so large, they could disguise themselves as trees. James Potter’s group of six thought they were walking into a forest. Only one of them made it out, and it wasn’t Harry’s father.
“Most magical creatures mutated. More affected by the radiation, I guess. Luna says it’s because they were more sensitive to it.” Harry shakes his head. “The only exception we know of are dragons. Or at least, one dragon.”
Harry’s throat is getting dry, so they stop for five minutes for some water. “We’ve got the amulets now, they’re supposed to protect us from turning. Must be working, no one’s turned since we got them, but you never know, right?”
“Shishishi.”
“No, I don’t know if they help if ye’re already turned, but I’ll get ya one anyway, ‘kay? Maybe Mum can figure out some way to help ya. If ya promise not to eat any of us.”
“Shishishi…”
“Yeah, we’ll feed ya. I’ll shoot ya creepy birds’n stuff, like before. Maybe the ration bars will work for ya, too. Otherwise, ya can go huntin’ with Ginny, when she goes out to feed Carnie. Carnie is... Well, you'll see.”
The day wears on. Harry talks about anyone and anything. It’s better than thinking about how shitty his situation is, stuck with hardly any supplies in the middle of the Wastes and only a Revenant for company.
“We were lookin’ for a friend of ours,” he tells Prince. “Ced sent a distress signal. When we got there, we were set on by a swarm of Gillyweeds. Crawled out of the river, like Kraken. We activated our portkeys. Turns out mine was corrupted. I’m lucky I wasn’t blasted to pieces, just got sent who-knows-where. God, I hope the others are alright. Hestia is one thing, but Nev? We can’t lose Nev. He and Luna are the only ones who can actually make sense of what’s going on with the plants and animals here.” Harry shakes his head. “He wouldn’t stay home though. Stubborn as hell.”
Cedric... "There was blood on the ground. Led into the water." Harry grits his teeth, fights the sting in his eyes. "We'll have a funeral for him when I get back."
Wouldn't be his first.
Definitely not the last, either.
Three days Harry walks. The Wasteland seems to stretch on forever.
Prince makes a surprisingly good hunting partner. Not as good as Harry's lovely partner, the vicious Stymphalian Owl Hedwig, but he lets Harry eat some of the spoils, though he acts as if he'd cut of his own arm to feed Harry instead of letting him have one bloody rib-thing of some hound-like thing.
"Arse," Harry mutters. Hedwig would have let him have at least two ribs. But she got hurt a while back and is still being nursed back to health by Luna and Charlie, so Harry's been on his own for a month.
Prince snickers at him.
Better company than no company at all, Harry reminds himself. And not half as disconcerting as the Ginny and Carnie combo.
Combo in the most literal sense. Ginny is a terrifying person.
"Here we go again." Harry dusts himself off - an exercise in futility, dust is omnipresent unless it rains, then it's just mud.
Late afternoon, or at least Harry thinks it is, they come across an abandoned settlement. There are still bones there. The buildings still mostly intact, which suggests a creature attack, not a plant one - plants rarely leave anything.
Unfortunately, Harry finds nothing useful. "I'm thinkin’ it was a goblin raid" he tells Prince darkly. "Fuckin’ bastards. Hungry beasts are one thing, but goblins actually set out just to find the next human meal. Or slave, we ain’t sure what exactly they do with captured humans, but they prefer takin’ ‘em alive. Ya ever see a goblin, get the fuck away. Where there's one, there'll be at least twenty more. They hunt in groups."
One more reason to stay away from the mountains. Goblins like mountain regions. Harry's mum says they likely have their cave systems there, where they sit on all the precious metal and gemstones like riches even matter in a world like this.
More problematic is the fact that goblins can forge their own weapons. Seeing as they hadn't become mindless beasts like so many other things. Not, they'd just gotten more beastly. "Prefer to walk on all fours. Can cling to walls and cave ceilings like spiders. Prefer to hunt at night. Skin like iron. They're sensitive to light though, and their magical skills have deteriorated. Still, given how strong their bodies are, that's not much of a comfort. Let's get the hell outta here. We won't find anythin’."
"I know this rock," Harry declares.
Prince looks entirely unimpressed.
"It might look a generic rock, but-" Harry touches his hand to it and wipes away a layer of dust. Nordic rune script carved into the surface is revealed. "If you think it's a message to lone wanderers in need of help, ye're dead wrong. It translates to Luna wuz here." Harry laughs fondly, shaking his head. "Haven’s about seven hours from ’ere. If we hurry, we can make it before nightfall."
Prince hops after him.
"We'll need to be careful," Harry murmurs at some point. "There's a river not too far. Travel route for anythin’ water-reliant."
Haven is located on the outskirts of the wastelands. Just a few hours away from areas with more action. But hardly anything finds Haven. It's well-hidden and protected. Several saltwater moats and a few with mild acids to keep out the plants, and any creatures could be seen from miles away. And they do have wards. Need to be constantly checked and recharged, but they do work to keep out radiation and pollen and all that shit that could seriously fuck up their lives.
He doesn't talk as they make their way toward home. That'd be just stupid, to get himself noticed by some shit just hours from Haven. Mum would kill him for that kind of idiocy.
Prince is silent as well. Silent as in, makes no noise at all, moves like a bloody ghost. Creepy, that. Harry's not complaining though, if the Revenant had wanted to kill him, well, there'd been more than enough chances.
Thing is, the really dangerous things always move silently. The two of them reach a slope, Harry knows the way from here. They just have to cross through a crevice and a ravine, and then home wouldn't be far anymore.
But when they step through the crevice, the path through the ravine is blocked. Before them towers a Whomping Willow. A large one, somewhere between forty and fifty feet tall, with wide, sweeping branches and blood red leaves. The bloody remains of some dinosaur-like beast are trapped within its roots, roots which had dug deep into its flesh. A blood drinker then.
The ground under Harry trembles. With a curse he throws himself to the side, and jumps on a large rock. Where he just stood, roots explode from the ground, rocks spraying everywhere. The tree groans, branches rustling in agitation. Harry curses when he sees roots creeping up and blocking the way back. More roots creep over the ground, a fine net that would trap anyone that stepped on it.
"Fine," Harry hisses. "I'll send you straight to hell." He fires his crossbow. The bolts burrow deeply into the knots where trunk and root meet and burst into blazing flames.
The tree shrieks. Roots shoot from the ground trying to dowse Harry's Soulfire, but it won't extinguish until Harry says so - or until he dies.
The rock under him shudders and Harry dives off as it is thrown up and against rockface where it shatters into a million pieces. Harry lands on the root-covered ground and immediately sets it aflame. And keeps moving and running, because to stand still is to die. The tree knows where he is. And it won't be defeated so easily by two shots of his crossbow.
The willow roars. A horribly cracking and ripping sound, and the burning wood is shattered off the still unburnt parts, and Harry has to duck under burning projectiles. A shadow falls on him, and he can only just roll out of the way of a mighty branch that splits the ground as it misses Harry. Then it sweeps to the side and flings his body into the rockface. Harry shifts mid-flight and fire bursts from his palms, braking his flight and saving him from the impact.
Below him, a vicious hiss sounds. Prince does not appreciate the attack at all. And he might not be able to fly, but he's too fast for any root or branch to catch anyway. All Harry sees is a blond blur flitting around, and red sparks disintegrating tree parts.
He lands on a tiny ledge and fires more bolts, aiming at the roots and trunk - the branches aren't too dangerous, the roots on the other hand could attack from anywhere, so if he disconnects them... His aim strikes true, as it always does. The tree shrieks again. The knots at the foot of the tree burst into flame one by one. But below Harry the roots creep up again, so he flings himself off the ledge and flies with Soulfire-filled palms. "Prince, get outta there!" he shouts. With grim determination he raises his arms at the Whomping Willow which immediately propels him back at the rockface, but he lands feet first, and his Soulfire is stronger than the force of gravity, he stands horizontally on the cliff. "Burn, you rotten piece of shit!" Harry growls and fires. Flames stream from his hand, bathing the world in light.
The tree screams as it is consumed by bright orange and gold fire.
When it's over, Harry falls onto the hot ash-covered ground, rolling over his shoulder. "Ugh," he groans. The heat of the ash is uncomfortable on his skin, so he forces himself to get up. He feels cold now, having spent so much of his power. "You alright there, Prince?"
"Shishishi," the Revenant cackles. He's covered in ash from head to toe but looks disturbingly happy, sitting on a charred piece of wood.
"Glad to hear it," Harry mutters looking around. "Let's get the fuck outta here. Anything with eyes is goin’ to be here soon."
And he wouldn’t be able to pull that kind of move again for a while.
They're too slow to get to Haven before nightfall. Twilight is creeping up on them, the last rays of sun painting the rocks red. The land is getting flatter. In the distance waits a mountain. A volcano, long since fallen dormant. They call it Requiem Mountain.
Haven is located inside the crater. Almost home.
Almost doesn't count. A shriek sounds from above, as familiar as it is terrifying. The beast blots out the sun, the wingspan easily reaching that of a dragon's. It shrieks again, demonic red eyes fixed on Harry hungrily. Prince hisses at it in anger, crouching.
The next time the King-Thestral shrieks, already diving down with its maw wide open, Harry's crossbow bolt shoots into its mouth, but the beast crushes it between its teeth. Harry dives behind a house-sized rock, the wings shaving half of it off as the Thestral sweeps past. Harry's next shot hits from behind where wing and horse-body meet, and its flight is abruptly cut short when the crossbow bolt bursts into flames. The Thestral screeches and turns angrily, one wing hanging uselessly, strings of muscle cut and burned.
It rises on its hindlegs, clawed front legs hitting air. The ground shakes when they hit the ground again and the beast starts to run at Harry. The crossbow bolt to the snout is shaken off, only makes it angrier. Harry lights his hands on fire once again readying for close combat against the monster.
And then out of nowhere a green vine wraps around one foreleg and pulls. The beast falls, more vines creeping up immediately. The creature struggles, shrieking now in terror rather than anger.
Harry shifts his crossbow on his back. Prince next to him makes a sound of confusion.
The source of the vines slowly saunters up to the now barely moving Thestral. Ginny Weasley looks at Harry, smirk on her face. "Well hello there, damsel'n distress," she drawls. "Thought I saw yer soulfire back there." She jerks her head into the direction that he came from.
Harry grins. "Yer a sight for sore eyes, Gin. Way prettier than some stinkin' Whompin' Willow, that's for sure."
"Naturally." Ginny strokes the vines coming from her shoulder. "Easy, Carnie-love."
The vines don't answer, of course. Just continue to drink the blood of the Thestral.
Ginny Weasley was six when a ravenous Revenant-Hagrid ripped her arm off.
She was eight when she had enough of being cooped up inside by her overprotective family and ventured outside where she was attacked by a mutated Snargaluff, a plant that looks like a stump, until it senses prey, which is when it lets free thorny vines to drag prey into the trunk to be digested. But Ginny was no prey. Destroyed the stump, she did. Which contained the digestive organs, where bodies are made into whatever foodstuff a Snargaluff needs. So the vines latched onto Ginny instead, who had just Awakened purple Soulfire and could supply them with that to keep them from dying. It's the world's creepiest symbiosis, Ginny with the vines growing out of her shoulder, and being able to make them grow at a moment’s notice. She regularly has to feed them blood, which meant she had to become a hunter. Her parents and remaining brothers were horrified. Still are. Not that she cares.
"Nev an’ Hestia made it back alright?" Harry asks.
"Yeah. Only yer sorry arse was missing. Been lookin' for a while, Hunter." Ginny gives him a glare, then her gaze locks on Prince. A vine shoots towards the Revenant. Harry's hand snatches forward and burns it off.
"Friend," he says. "Saved my arse out there. Gonna introduce him to Mum."
"Tch," she scoffs, but calls her plant back. "Momma's boy."
"And proud of it," Harry grins.
Prince hisses at her. Ginny hisses back immediately, hazel eyes shifting to purple as her temper rises. The vines coil around her, still dripping blood from the now dead Thestral.
"Stop," Harry orders. "Both of you."
Ginny shoots him an incredulous look. Prince hisses angrily, bares his fangs at Harry.
"I mean it." He puts as much authority in his voice as he can. He's a team leader, damn it. Ginny might be terrifying, but as his second she has to listen to him. "He ain't a normal Rev, Gin. Got a clear mind, ain't controlled by hunger. Maybe Mum can help him. Maybe we can find a cure."
Ginny twitches, amethyst glare fixed on the Revenant. "Yer uncle nearly killed Petunia and D. My brother had ta be put down 'cuz he turned Rev. I lost my feckin' arm cuz Hagrid went crazy. There ain't no sanity in there! Maybe this one's got some brains, but those things got good noses. Probably smelled people on ya, thought it could devour some more folks if he left ya live!"
"He’s got Soulfire!" Harry shouts. "That means he’s got a soul! C'mon Prince, show her!"
Prince snarls at them, backing off slowly. Opens his mouth wide. And spits a glob of red fire into Ginny's growing mass of vines. She hisses and jumps back, liveless separated pieces of greenery falling.
"See?" Harry says. He steps in front of her, grabs her shoulders. Calls on his Soulfire, leans his forehead against hers. "Gin, please."
She growls and pushes him away.
"Dammit." She looks at the vine stumps and propagates them to a workable length. "I just fed Carnie."
Harry breathes out. "We'll find ya some other monster to feed to yer creepy blood-drinkin’ Snargaluff." He steps back. "So, introductions. Prince, this is Ginevra Weasley, my best friend and vice leader of Team Wildfire, which incidentally I’m leader of. Gin, this is Prince, the Revenant."
"Pleasure," she says flatly.
Prince grins and sketches a bow.
"What the Hades," Ginny utters. Harry grins.
"So now that we've got that behind us," he says. "Let's go home."
It's dark by the time they cross the wards halfway up Requiem Mountain. Prince visibly shudders, but is otherwise not bothered. He looks curiously at the moats gouged into the hard ground, filled with saltwater that looks oddly jelly-like - they had to thicken it because the sun would vaporise it otherwise.
The last moat is so broad that they'd have to cross the drawbridge - if they were anybody else, that is. Ginny propagates Carnie to obscene length and swings herself across. Harry blasts himself over with his Soulfire. Prince simply leaps across.
"Ach! Why did we even build that thing," a familiar voice complains.
"Sorry, Minerva," Harry apologises.
"Harry! Lad, you gave us a scare!" An elderly woman with a pinched face bustles over to them. "It is good to have you back and- what is that!"
Harry grabs her hand that suddenly holds a wand. "It's okay. Trust me. He saved my life."
"He's a-"
"Revenant," a light voice finishes. A grin spreads over Harry's face. A small silhouette sits atop the raised drawbridge. "I've watched them since they started climbing up. It is fine, Minerva."
"I'm home, Mum," he says softly.
Lily Potter hops down. The green pacifier around her infant-neck glows gently, illuminating her smile. Prince hisses in surprise. Her green eyes look deeply into his before her smile widens. She turns to Harry, holding her arms out.
He obligingly picks her up and holds her close. "I'm home," he repeats.
Tiny arms wrap around Harry's neck. "Welcome home, son."
Nagi lunges forward. Cradles it in her arms and closes her eyes in preparation for the pain.
The impact with the car never comes. Instead she’s yanked back by something and ends up under a boy with messy black hair and spring green eyes in his hotel room.
How that happened, she doesn’t know. But what she does know is that he saved her. Her. Useless and unwanted little Nagi who can’t do anything right, who can barely speak to people with her quiet voice. Even now she can’t get her vocal chords to work to thank the boy who saved her life.
She’d almost died just now. Shouldn’t she have a new outlook on life or something? Maybe regretted her timidness in the moment of impending death so much that she’d resolve to do away with it? But no, no such thing. She’s still Nagi, the gloomy girl that hides in corners and shadows.
The boy meanwhile has jumped off of her like she’s on fire and started stuttering apologies in both English and Japanese. Nagi tries to stop him, but again the words won’t come, so she resolves to wait until he stops on his own.
His panicked squawking and tomato-red face is kind of funny, and she surprises herself by laughing. She tries to stop because how rude is that, to laugh at the one who saved her, but then he starts laughing too and she finds she likes that even more than his panicked flailing.
His name is Hari. It’s a nice name, she thinks. Short and to the point. There is no meaning to it besides the meaning he gives it. It suits him.
He’s kind, too. She already knew that, he had saved her after all, but there is a difference between pulling someone from a too-fast car and seeing someone’s sadness and doing something about that. He just invites her to stay with him like that’s perfectly normal. Like she hasn’t caused him enough trouble already.
But she’s just so happy that she doesn’t have to go a cold and lonely home that she can’t say anything but yes.
Nagi realises that Hari-kun has his own demons pretty quickly. It’s there in his eyes every morning, like he’d fought battles in his sleep. Sudden flashes of light make him flinch and duck. She learns quickly to make noise when approaching him so as to not startle him.
Bringing him cake makes him smile. Pointing out things to take pictures of takes his mind off of things. Nagi gives her best to figure out more ways to bring light to his eyes.
It surprises her just how happy it makes her to make him smile.
She’s even happier when he smiles at her all on his own without her having to do anything. Like he genuinely appreciates her company even when she doesn’t talk much, when isn’t wearing make-up, when she isn’t wearing cute clothes.
Is this what friendship is like? She never thought it could feel this wonderful.
She’s never going back. Ever. Not just because she loves Hari-kun and would do anything for him at this point.
Traveling like this, seeing the world, seeing how vast it is, how tiny her previous life is in comparison, it’s eye-opening. It feels like she’s leaving the gloomy Nagi she was behind, like she’s growing into a - well, not a new Nagi, but a better one. Not as insecure, not as unconfident. Still shy, but not cripplingly so.
It’s not like anyone would miss her anyway.
Here she has Hari-kun and her cat, and she’s doing well.
She likes this and she won’t give it up.
Nagi is giddy with joy.
“Damn,” Hari-kun says. “That was… wow. You just- wow.”
Her cheeks warm, she giggles a bit in embarrassment. What a display she had made of herself, but then…
“I didn’t like how he talked to you,” she answers. A part of her wants to jump up and down in glee because the old Nagi would never have done anything like staring at an angry-looking man so directly and rudely.
But he’d been yelling at Hari-kun and suddenly she hadn’t cared about things like manners. The only thing on her mind had been to defend her friend.
Perhaps her new confidence is the reason she lets it happen.
It’s not something new that her dreams are so very vivid. Often she dreams of just walking somewhere, through white fog, like something is pulling her. And normally she makes herself wake up before she reaches that something, because somehow she knows that it would change everything.
This time she doesn’t stop. She thinks she’s ready to face it.
But there are things one just can’t be ready for.
Like dropping into the head of a boy who is kept in a prison, submerged in a tank of cold water, no light anywhere, no warmth. His despair is suffocating.
She wakes up crying and resolves to never tell Harry. He’d think her a freak.
“My, what a lovely visitor. What is your name, dear?”
She isn’t in his head this time. This time when she fell asleep, there had been no walking through fog. She’d appeared right in the middle of a lovely meadow. He had been waiting for her, sitting on a picnic blanket.
But she senses the darkness and cold just lurking out of grasp, like the lovely scenery is just an illusion. A dream hidden beneath a blanket, and once the blanked is pulled away the darkness will claim it ruthlessly.
“Won’t you sit with me, my dear?”
She sits down gingerly.
“My name is Rokudo Mukuro.” He smiles at her. It’s a mask, below the smile is a brittle and broken soul.
“Nagi,” she whispers. “My name is Nagi.” Her voice breaks on the words. She wants to cry for him.
“What a kind heart you have, Nagi-chan,” he murmurs. A hand caresses her wet cheeks. “Won’t you help me, dear?”
“Yes,” she breathes brokenly.
Anything. She’d do anything to make this darkness go away.
Nagi’s resolve not to tell Hari-kun lasts for all of five days. Telling him turns out to be the best decision she ever made.
Hari hugs her, and she wishes she didn’t freeze up. Wishes she had the courage to hug him back, to tell him that it felt nice and nobody had ever done that before.
Perhaps her encounter with Mukuro-kun had shaken her so much that her new confidence had broken.
Hari-kun doesn’t leave her though. No, he teaches her something he calls ‘Occlumency’, and that changes everything. Suddenly she can examine her own mind, put order to it, all the crippling things swirling around can be cleared away. She learns to block the darkness out, learns to control the connection between her and Mukuro-kun.
“What a useful friend you have,” he tells her.
“Hari-kun is kind,” she replies.
“But you want more, don’t you?” Mukuro-kun’s voice has a teasing tone. “Kufufufufu,” he laughs when she blushes up to her ears. “Perhaps I should take action…”
“I’m sure Hari-kun likes girls better than boys,” she retorts, startling a laugh out of him.
“Ahh, Nagi-chan, such a delightful girl,” he chuckles. “He would be a fool not to love you like you do him.”
She shifts uncomfortably. Time for a subject change, she decides. “Can we practice illusions again?”
This is the right place, Mukuro-kun murmurs into her mind. The two of them had worked out how to communicate outside of dreams. They will be in the largest building.
Nagi looks around. Kokuyo Land has a haunting beauty to it. She loves it instantly.
I knew you would, Mukuro-kun chuckles.
Hush, she replies, and follows Hari-kun who lights their path, conjures lanterns from thin air, and makes them float up. Her eyes trail the movements of his hands.
You like his hands, don’t you? Mukuro-kun teases.
Hush, I said, she replies. He’s too old for me anyway.
He has the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year old, he snorts. Let me take over for just a moment, and I guarantee he will give you the attention you deserve afterwards.
You are so eager, are you sure that you aren’t the one in love with him?
That shuts him up. Nagi mentally pats herself on the back.
Then his friends attack them and she changes her mind about not letting him take over.
We will have him eat from the palm of your hand, Mukuro-kun crows in the back of her head. He’s been smug for days because Harry is indeed treating her differently after she let Mukuro-kun take over.
She ignores him now, her eyes instead tracking Harry’s movement. She loves watching him do magic.
Kokuyo Land looks so vastly different now, thanks to him. He looks happier, too. She isn’t sure if he notices how the boys look at him now, with something akin to trust and respect.
I am still their master, Mukuro grouches.
Of course, she says agreeably. What do you think, blue curtains or white ones?
Indigo.
There isn’t an indigo option. She surveys the choices available.
Then have dear Hari-kun turn them indigo. I want indigo curtains.
She tugs at Hari’s sleeve. “Hari-kun, I like the white ones.”
No!
It’ll look better that way, really, Nagi insists.
“Alright, I think white’s the best, too.” Hari smiles at her sheepishly. “But I tend to be an idiot about things like this, so please stop me if I pick out something stupid.”
Her heart melts a tiny bit more.
Mukuro gags and withdraws from her mind.
Hari-kun gets happier with every passing day. He walks with a spring in his steps, sometimes Nagi even sees him whistling as he works. His good mood influences them all, it’s like there is a good-mood sphere around them.
Just kiss him already, Mukuro grouches. And make him your eternal slave.
She feels the blood rise in her cheeks at the mere thought.
“Nagi, you alright?” Hari-kun asks, looking worried.
“Yes, yes!” she waves her arms frantically. “Just got a… heat flash, that’s all!”
He gives her an odd look. “If you say so. Don’t overwork yourself, alright?”
“No, no. Of course not. I’ll just go to my room to, uh, cool off.”
As soon as she’s in her room, she slams her head into the nearest flat surface. Mukuro cackles in her mind.
She doesn’t particularly want to be in the Mafia. It doesn’t look like there is another choice for her though, even if Hari-kun says there is. They’d have to run and hide, but they’d live in peace.
Nagi doesn’t want to run, and she’s spent her entire life hiding in corners. Plus the Mafia has hurt her new friends so badly. In a high position like Mist Guardian, wouldn’t she be able to change that world?
What really galls her though is that they don’t want her for her. They want her for Mukuro. Which means that they essentially want Nagi to disappear, because Nagi isn’t as useful as Mukuro.
Selfish Mafia worms, Mukuro rants. Nagi-chan, let’s destroy the world together!
Does changing it count as destroying it? she asks him.
No. Kill them all.
She rolls her eyes and asks Hari-kun for another cinnamon roll. He smiles at her like she’s his sole reason of existence and gives her the best-looking one.
Don’t ignore me!
“Pardon, two cinnamon rolls. Mukuro-kun wants one, too.”
The cinnamon roll for Mukuro-kun looks kind of crippled and ugly.
Now that is not how your relationship is going to work! Pick someone else!
Hush and enjoy your cinnamon roll.
If Nagi could have, she’d have backed out of the Ring Battles after watching the Sun Guardian’s fight. But Hari-kun has decided to fight to save a child, and how could she stop him?
She’s long since known that Hari-kun is a hero. Ken-kun and Chikusa-san know it too. Mukuro-kun makes his jokes about it, but he too knows. Everyone except Hari-kun knows. He’s just… good, through and through, and he thinks that’s normal, but it’s not.
And he can fight, she’s aware of that. After all, ever since the Mafia invaded their lives, he and Mukuro-kun have been training her. Nagi is pretty sure that he's seen battles and that that is where the darkness in his eyes comes from.
But she can’t help but worry.
There is something very gratifying about seeing Hari-kun punch the External Advisor person. Mukuro-kun radiates smug approval in the back of her mind.
The External Advisor of course isn’t happy. But Hari-kun isn’t cowed by his bluster, and neither is she.
Mukuro just oozes smug pride. Especially when she kisses Hari-kun’s cheek for good luck.
Now if you gave him a real kiss, he’d be yours for the taking, he remarks.
You are so eager that I kiss him. Considering that you can literally live vicariously through me, it’s getting suspicious.
He shuts up.
“Can that guy even fight? Looks kind of scrawny, if you ask me,” a boy with silver hair and an impressive scowl utters acidly. “Well, better than the stupid cow at least.”
“I’m, uh. I think he can do it,” Sawada Tsunayoshi answers unconfidently. “Yesterday evening, the older Lambo said he doesn’t remember fighting in the battle, so it’s fine?”
“You’re so damn lame!” Ken shouts. “Of course he can fight! He’ll damn well kick your stupid Mafia asses!”
That of course sparks a shouting match that abruptly stops once the match starts.
Hari-kun wins. Of course. Nagi was sure he would.
What she didn’t expect was just how easily he does it. How strong he is.
There is something hypnotic about watching him fight. He doesn’t even get a scratch.
Nagi doesn’t even need Mukuro’s prompting when she vaults over the railing afterwards, throws her arms around Hari, and kisses him.
Damn, she thinks.
“Damn,” he says. She laughs.
“You were taking too long,” she mumbles. “Go out with me?”
Finally! Mukuro shouts in the back of her head. Now please don’t ever kiss him again.
Hush, she says and blocks the connection for good measure.
“Anything you want, Nagi,” Hari-kun answers her, and the warm feeling that spreads in her chest makes her think that she’s finally found somewhere to belong.
Well. The answer can be summed up in two words: Iemitsu and fuck-up. The fucking idiot trash is living down to Xanxus expectations. It’s incredible just how much one man can Utterly Fail at his job.
It’d be hilarious if the bastard hadn’t dragged Xanxus down with him. Though, saying it like that would imply that the fucking trash were here with Xanxus. He’s not. No, Xanxus is all on his own in fucking Great Britain in the middle of Bumfuck-Nowhere in a village called Fuckery-St. Asshole. Something like that. Fuck, he needs a drink.
He gets stared at by fucking civilian trash and it grates on his nerves. The grocery store only has cheap beer. Not even cheap wine, what the hell is this shit.
Four cans of shitty beer later and there’s still no magical solution to anything. Trashes are still staring. He sits in the middle of the marketplace on this ugly-as-shit fountain thing, drinks his beer and flips gawkers off occasionally. Or gives them the death glare. Fucking civilians. Can’t even kill trash like that.
So there he sits. Cracks open another shitty beer. Sun’s beating down, but it’s got nothing on the Italian sun.
His own mobile’s dead just like this stupid village.
...He could get up and find a phone somewhere here.
Nah. Drink another shitty beer, take a nap. Let the shitty old man maybe remember Xanxus’ existence. Iemitsu might even get in trouble this time. Though Xanxus wouldn’t bet on it. Fucker is slippery as shit and his shitty old man adores him. Would probably say it’s all Xanxus fault. Just one more reason to wait with his return.
Huh, they’re staring less now. Whispering more, though.
Staring at something else? He cracks open an eye.
There’s a girl. Like, not just a girl, a fucking kid. Small, somewhere between four and seven years old. Looks like some shitty fairy. No, really. She’s tiny. Has blond hair. Rainbow dress. Bare feet. Spins her way across the marketplace. Also, some glittery shit in her hair that looks like antlers. The fuck’s going on with that kid?
She spins her way over to Xanxus. That’s a first, normally they run, or the parents drag them away.
“Hello,” she says airily. Large silver-grey eyes look at him without any hint of fear. Kid’s either got some balls or no brain.
“The fuck’re you doing spinning around like that, trash? Where’re your shoes?” Xanxus snarls at her.
“Spinning wards off Wrackspurts,” she answers, tilting her head. “So do butterbeer corks, but I lost my necklace. My shoes grew wings and flew away.” She smiles. “Like Hippogriffs, but smaller.”
Crazy. She’s crazy. The crazy ones always come to Xanxus. Just look at his track record. All his Guardians are crazy.
“The concentration of Wrackspurts around your head is exceptionally low,” she continues. “Do your feathers do that? My antlers don’t seem as effective. Then again, I lost the keypiece in the explosion.”
“Explosion?” Fuck yeah, an explosion. Explosions are cool. And he’s so bored. Might as well check it out.
“Oh yes, my house exploded, I flew all the way here from the Rookery, it was quite exciting and I even met a Cloudrabbit on the way.” She spins around and points in a random direction. “There.”
Indeed, there’s a plume of deep purple smoke.
“Mommy was experimenting again, you see. Daddy was looking for Gulping Plimpies, he’s on dinner duty.”
“And you?” Xanxus unfolds his legs, stands up and stretches. His joints crack. He’s been slouching on that fountain for hours.
“I was looking for Cloudrabbits on the roof.” Her face lights up with a smile. “How lucky that I met one. Sometimes the oddest things help us find what we’re looking for. Wrackspurts. Explosions.”
“Good for you,” he snorts.
“Say, are you a Heliopath? You seem so bright.” She tilts her head. “I’ve never met one before.”
And now the crazy is getting interesting. “Your name, trash.”
She frowns a bit. “It’s not very kind to call people trash.”
Xanxus rolls his eyes. “Then tell me your damn name.”
“Luna,” she answers. “Luna Lovegood.”
“Ever heard of stranger danger, Loony?”
“Is that a nickname? Are we friends now?” She smiles at him guilelessly. Kid’s obviously a fucking moron. “I don’t have a lot of friends besides the Cloudrabbits. Ginny is nice though. She kicks Ronald’s shins when he is unkind.”
“You wanna go to your house, Loony?”
She beams at him. Lights up like a damn Varia Christmas tree (they always burn it down). “Yes, please!”
Luna slips her tiny hand into his - damn, his guard was down - and it happens.
In retrospect, it is not Harry’s best summoning spell. In his defence, he only caught a glimpse of purple hair from the girl he’d followed because of said purple hair.
Wait, that makes him sound like a stalker. He’s not. Really. It’s just, the colour reminded him of the late Tonks, and he’d just wanted to catch a glimpse of her face. That’s perfectly normal. Following people around is normal.
So anyway. Purple-haired girl unfortunately has a saving-cats thing and runs in front of a car to save one in the split-second Harry has his eyes off of her. Lucky for her, Harry has a saving-people thing, so that works out fine. She’s pulled right into Harry’s arms, along with about a hundred purple handbags, clutches, jewellery, and a car advertisement.
Thank Merlin for notice-me-not charms and apparition, that could have ended really badly.
The girl stares up at him, clutching the hissing cat. Harry hovers over her, hands braced on each side of her head. They are on Harry’s bed in his hotel room.
He takes back anything good he ever said about apparition.
“Gomen,” Harry apologises for what feels like hundredth time. His ears feel like they’re burning, but it’s better than when his whole head felt like it was on fire. The girl had stopped blushing a while ago and started softly giggling at Harry’s embarrassed squawking. It’s a nice giggle, she tries to hide it behind her hand, and it’s barely audible. It doesn’t make him feel stupid - well, any more stupid than he already feels all on his own - and at some point he starts laughing, too. The situation is just so entirely ridiculous.
“Uhm,” he scratches the back of his head. “So. I’m Harry.”
He probably should have introduced himself earlier.
The girl bows politely (oh Merlin’s beard, he should have bowed too, he’s messing this up) and introduces herself. Her name is Shimizu Nagi, she’s fifteen years old, and she’s really nice about being kidnapped and ending up in a compromising position. The cat is not nearly as nice about being cat-napped, it’s like Crookshanks at his worst. It glares at him from its perch on Nagi’s lap like Harry is the devil incarnate.
Nagi ducks a little. “Uh… thank you for saving me,” she says softly, almost too softly to hear. Then her eyes look up at him, wide and violet and so hopeful. “You did save me, right?”
“It was nothing,” Harry waves her question off. “I mean, not nothing, it’s great that you’re okay! I just, uh.” Crap, his Japanese isn’t all that great. The language-learning potion only goes so far. “I didn’t really think about what I was doing. Just like you probably didn’t think about saving the cat?”
If he’d been thinking, he’d have been a little more careful about breaking the Statute of Secrecy in broad daylight in a foreign country, that’s for sure. He’s just glad that so far no aurors have shown up to detain him and obliviate Nagi. Oh crap, Nagi had seen him do magic.
Nagi nods shyly, gently petting the glaring cat on her lap. “That was… really nice of you.” She gives him a hesitant smile, so sincere.
“Err….” Harry searches for something to say, and then sees that it’s getting dark outside. “Oh, this late already! Do you need to get home? I’ll walk you!”
She ducks again and Harry curses himself. Nagi suddenly looks so small and sad. Lonely. Like pre-Hogwarts Harry. Except there won’t be a Hogwarts for her, if she had magic she would have said something, right?
“Or you could stay,” he offers.
Her smile is a small and tremulous thing, but it transforms her entire face.
“Hermione, I’m fine.” Harry rolls his eyes at the phone. “I’m not brooding, I’m eating fine, I haven’t been in trouble since I left, it’s all good. Stop worrying. Instead, tell me how you are.”
“Nice try,” Hermione huffs. “If you must know, I’m doing alright. My parents have almost forgiven me, I think. Dad glares at Ron a lot, but Mom says it’s a Dad-thing.”
“That sounds great!” Harry answers enthusiastically.
“It is.” He can hear her smile over the phone. “I’m ready to go home, though. Mom and Dad seem to want to stay in Brisbane, but I can visit them anytime, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Now back to you.” Damn it. “I know you’re not fine, Harry James Potter. Talk to me, it’ll make you feel better! Or at least tell me where you are! You just took off! Don’t you know how important you are, especially after the war just ended?”
And there it is.
“Hermione… I am fine. Really. I’m… I just needed to go, okay?”
Public attention, being the hero, everyone wanting a word with him, him idly considering leaving the magical world, that was one thing.
And Ginny. Ginny was a reason.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Harry. But you weren’t there, and I needed someone… you don’t even know what it was like, the Death Eaters ruling Hogwarts! …Neville was there, okay? And I think I love him.”
He prefers not to think about that.
“I just need some space, okay? I just need some space is all.” Harry sighs.
“Oh Harry,” Hermione breathes in that I-just-understood-something-significant-and-tragic-about-Harry’s-feelings tone. “I’m so sorry! I thought-“
“I met someone!” Harry blurts.
“What?!” Okay, Hermione doesn’t have to sound that shocked. Harry isn’t that bad, right? “That’s, uh. Great?”
Harry laughs. “It is. She is.”
A soft noise makes him look up. Nagi has just come in, a box of cake in her arms and a hopeful look on her face. He smiles at her, she blushes and looks away.
“Listen, ‘Mione, I’ve got to go. Say hi to Ron for me, alright?”
“Wait, Harry! Who is she?”
“Sorry, gotta go!” He hangs up on her and feels only a slight bit guilty. “Okaeri, Nagi-chan!”
“Tadaima, Hari-kun.”
Harry is doing better than ever since Voldemort’s return. It could be the traveling, the lack of duties to be fulfilled, the absence of any threat, but he knows better. It’s Nagi. He’s known her for only two weeks, but he thinks it’s been the best weeks of his life. Weeks where everything was good.
Nagi is the sweetest person he has ever met. There isn’t a mean bone inside of her. Kind and gentle, happy with whatever attention he gives her, happy to give him his privacy. She’s just… sweet. The one thing that irks Harry is her lack of self-confidence, but he’s working on that. Slowly and carefully, because she’s worse than he ever was and he’s constantly scared she’ll bolt if he startles her too much.
And yeah, he’s essentially kidnapped her, but nobody seems to be looking for her, Nagi herself doesn’t expect anyone to come looking for her, and the entire thing just reminds him way too much of the Dursleys for him to just let it rest. So she’s coming with him. Though he did the responsible thing and asked her to at least send her parents the occasional letter.
He’s probably not going to give her back, though. Nagi makes a great traveling companion (unlike her cat). Until she came along, Harry had wanted to be alone, after the Horcrux hunt, he’d had enough of traveling in company. Nagi though is just so… unintrusive and unassuming that he finds her company peaceful, soothing even. It helps that she has absolutely nothing to do with Britain, wizards, and magic in general. She’s nothing like the strong personalities he’s used to. That isn’t to say she isn’t strong in her own right, there are moments like when she stared down a man twice her size and triple her weight trying to bully Harry for whatever reason when Harry had just thought, damn. He’d told her so later, and she’d blushed and giggled in that shy but pleased way of hers.
There are days when he thinks she’s his sole reason for getting out of bed in the morning.
He’d fought and won a war. Sometimes he feels so old and tired. Nagi doesn’t make him forget, but she makes him… feel at peace with it all, he supposes, like it was all worth it.
There comes a day everything changes. There always does.
It doesn’t have anything to do with Harry this time.
Nagi, her horrible cat, and he are currently touring the Okinawa Islands, Kume Island in particular. Harry is aware that Nagi hasn’t been sleeping too well lately, but on this morning she looks particularly miserable. So he asks her what’s wrong, and she, well, she doesn’t burst into tears but looks like she wants to.
“He’s in pain,” she whispers desperately, arms hugging herself. “He’s in pain, he’s all alone, it’s so dark.” A tiny sob escapes her, she turns away.
Harry doesn’t really think about it, he just pulls her into his arms and hugs her. She turns into a statue.
He lets her go. “Sorry,” he says. She nods mutely, eyes wide.
One of her tiny hands clutches his sleeve. “Don’t go, please don’t leave,” she begs.
“Never,” Harry vows, and he means it. Nagi’s hand lets go of his sleeve and hesitantly slips into his hand instead, clutching it like a lifeline.
“He’s in my dreams,” she tells him tremulously.
“For the last week? You looked tired, Nagi-chan.” Harry squeezes her hand, trying not to show her how worried he is.
“We, um, we have connection? Similar souls, he says.”
Harry stiffens. This… it sounds too familiar for his comfort.
“He wants me to help him.” Nagi trembles, she bites her lip before continuing. “His friends, they need help, and he can’t go himself. He says he’d make me strong in exchange for my help.”
“Okay, we can go help those friends of his,” Harry agrees, because it’s so easy to see that it’s what Nagi wants to do. “But why can’t he go himself? And who is he?”
“Prison.” Nagi’s fingers clench around Harry’s. “He’s in prison. It’s horrible.”
“Why is he in prison, Nagi-chan?” She doesn’t answer, so Harry gently turns her head to look at him, brushes purple strands of hair out of her face so he can look her in the eyes. “I’m going to help you whatever you decide to do,” he tells her. “You’re important to me.” She doesn’t even know just how much.
She tells him everything after that. There are so many foreign words - Mafia, Estraneo, Vongola. So much darkness. Harry doesn’t want Nagi, sweet and kind Nagi, anywhere near that.
But it isn’t about what he wants. After what he’s been through, he would never take anyone’s choice away. And Nagi’s choice is to help this Mukuro person, to watch out for his friends, and to learn about his illusions in exchange.
“Hari-kun is special,” she says earnestly. It’s the closest she’s ever come to mentioning the magic she’d witnessed him do that time they first met. “I want to be special also.”
“Okay,” Harry sighs. “But I’m teaching you what I know about Mind Arts. No way am I letting you get possessed.”
And that’s that.
Kokuyo Land creeps Harry out. The abandoned amusement park near the city of Namimori is rundown, taken over by the local flora, and generally a health hazard in every way. Nagi though is confident, carefully walking along a path described to her by an incarcerated mass murderer (Merlin’s soggy pants, why is Harry going along with this?!), and looking around with interest.
She likes places like this. They’d been to amusement parks, and Nagi always loves the haunted houses best. This isn’t much different, except it’s not a tourist attraction, it’s all too real.
Harry is vastly uncomfortable but soldiers on, brightly lit wand in front of him. Nagi can conjure up images of flowers, showing her his magic doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.
She’d taken to learning Occlumency with astounding ease (and isn’t that a funny thought, a muggle learning mind magic?). Harry likes to imagine how she’d have mentally stomped Snape in the ground if the git had ever had the gall to try to read her mind. Merlin, Nagi is so strong.
They go inside the largest building. Harry conjures up lanterns and makes them float up so the whole room is illuminated.
Two kids are inside. One of them animalistic, half-feral, lashing out at them even while obviously running a fever. The other wearing glasses and just staring at them apathetically, one arm held to his side awkwardly.
“This is our place! Get your own!” the first one growls, and launches himself at them. Harry casts a wandless tripping jinx. The kid is already unsteady on his feet and falls easily. The other though pelts them with needles shot from a… yoyo? And he doesn’t think, just reacts, and pushes Nagi behind him, the only thought on his mind is to protect her. The needles hit him, and instead of digging into his flesh just. Bounce off?
Green sparks travel over his skin.
The guy with glasses is meanwhile trapped in an illusion of vines strangling him.
“Well that’s new,” Harry remarks to no one in particular, examining the sparks coming from his fingers.
“Hari-kun, are you alright?” Nagi asks anxiously.
“I’m fine,” Harry answers. She nods, then turns to the two attackers.
“Um,” she says. “You two are Ken-san and Chikusa-san, right? Mukuro-san sent us.”
“What?!” the animalistic one - Ken? - shouts. “Don’t fuck with us, bitch!”
“Don’t talk to her like that!” Harry snaps at him. Nagi places a hand on his arm. Then she closes her eyes, that strange illusion energy enveloping her.
“Kufufufu…” laughter comes from a mouth that used to be Nagi’s. Harry’s hackles rise. “Ken, Chikusa. Don’t you recognise your master?”
“M-Mukuro-san!” Ken exclaims, his companion just stares, looking oddly vulnerable. “You escaped?! We knew you could do it!”
“Alas, this escape is only temporary,” Mukuro chuckles. “Now, you will not damage these new pawns of mine, will you?”
Harry bristles. “Pawns? If I remember correctly, you are depending on Nagi’s help, and she could cut the connection at any time if she so chose!”
“Kufufu,” Mukuro laughs again. “You must be my dear Nagi-chan’s Hari-kun. Finally we meet.”
“She’s not your anything.” Harry glares at the smirking… apparition currently hijacking Nagi’s mind and body and possibly even soul.
“But is she yours? I think not.” Mukuro laughs that laugh of his again. “Ken, Chikusa, stay put here and recover. Do not come look for me. I will be in contact.”
“Don’t leave!” Ken shouts desperately. Chikusa looks just as desperate, but doesn’t shout. “No!”
Mukuro disappears and Nagi sinks into herself. Harry hurries to catch her.
Not his, his mind whispers.
He finds he doesn’t like the thought.
“Okay,” Harry declares. “This place is a health hazard and I’m not having it.”
“And what’re you gonna do?” Ken hisses, death glare trained on where Harry’s arm steadies Nagi. Or just rests around Nagi’s shoulders now that they’re sitting on a ratty couch.
“Why, I’m going to magic this place healthier,” Harry snipes back, making the kid bristle.
Nagi’s eyes light up. “Can I watch, Hari-kun?”
Like he could deny her. Merlin, he’s got it so bad and he’s only noticing now.
But she’s too young. He’s eighteen as of two weeks ago, a war veteran, a bloody mess of issues, and she’s an innocent girl who’s just barely started coming into herself. Fifteen-and-a-half years old, she turns sixteen on December 5th.
Dammit, Harry Potter. Can’t make anything easy, no?
“Of course you can.” He smiles at her, watches her eyes light up even more.
A few hours later, the room looks completely different. Clean, the walls fixed, all lamps lit with magical lights. Carpets on the ground, chairs and couches with soft cushions on them. Everything done in Gryffindor colours because why not? Nagi loves it, the other two are dumbfounded, Harry feels ten feet tall. More than that, he feels like he has a purpose again, something he’d lacked since the war ended.
It takes about a week until the house is somewhat liveable again. First priority are kitchen and bathrooms, then bedrooms. In between Harry remembers that Ken and Chikusa had been hurt and sick and orders them to rest. Which doesn’t go over well with Ken but whatever. When Nagi asks with polite menace that he please drink the potions Harry gives him, the kid doesn’t dare brush her off. Chikusa is more agreeable, but his mental state so much more worrying. There isn’t really anything Harry can do about that though, he’s barely sorting himself out, but he figures he can at least be there.
Weeks pass and Kokuyo Center turns from dilapidated to liveable to cozy and welcoming. Harry had worked with Hogwarts as a basic image in his mind, but the other three (four if one counts Mukuro) had suggestions and then they all went and bought furniture together, and now there’s something of all of them that went into the place. Chikusa favours simplistic designs and monochrome colours, Ken is the opposite and likes colours and contrasts, Nagi tends toward traditional Japanese interiors, Mukuro likes flowing curtains and anything indigo. The end result is chaotic, but it fits them.
It’s… homely. Not just the house, it’s the people. Ken’s hostility vanishes the first time Harry cooks them a decent meal. Chikusa’s mien is slower to thaw, but the atmosphere seems to do him good. And Nagi seems happier than ever. She says Mukuro is content, too.
Harry finds that with every bit of the house they fix, every meal they cook and eat together, every laugh they share, he fixes a bit of himself.
Hermione, Ron, and everyone else’s demands that he return to fix Britain get easier and easier to brush off. Taking care of two abused boys, making Nagi smile, rebuilding a house, it seems so much more rewarding to him.
Around four weeks after he and Nagi first arrived at Kokuyo Center, a man comes. Blond, large, intimidating, he reminds Harry of Rufus Scrimgeour in all the worst ways.
The four of them plus the cat are outside discussing what to do with the other buildings when he marches in, men in expensive suits on either side of him. His gaze hones straight in on Nagi. Harry and the boys step closer to her. If Harry is the leader of their little group, Nagi is the heart. The man lifts his arms, laughs.
He comes in peace, he says. With an offer for Nagi.
Vongola Mist Guardian. Ring battles. She can win, what with Mukuro helping her (how does he know?!), and there are benefits. Protection for her friends for one. Didn’t they just escape from prison? Surely she doesn’t want them to be arrested again.
Blackmail. The mafia is a dark place.
Nagi says yes. What choice does she have, really?
“You don’t have to do this,” Harry assures her the moment this ‘External Advisor’ leaves. “I can hide us. Protect us. Takes us out of the country. They’ll never find us.”
“Yeah!” Ken barks. “We’ll kick their asses!” Chikusa nods to this. Harry is sure Mukuro tells her something too, though only she can hear.
Nagi looks at Harry, eyes full of steady resolve. “Teach me how to fight instead. I want to change the world that causes all of you so much pain.”
Harry thinks he’s in love.
They get updates from the CEDEF people once the battles officially start. The four of them go to watch, hidden beneath Nagi’s illusions and Harry’s notice-me-not charms.
The Sun battle is first. Their side or rather, the side Nagi was recruited by, consists of kids. Innocent, bright-eyed kids who’ve probably never seen real battle besides what Mukuro brought to them. The supposed leader Sawada Tsunayoshi, the smallest of them, worries the whole time, eyes riveted on his friend who’s putting his life on the line in an obviously rigged battle against a hardened assassin. The poor kid flinches at every hit his friend takes.
“Merlin damn it!” Harry curses.
“Hari-kun?” Nagi asks worriedly, grasping his hand.
“They’re kids! This isn’t right!” he hisses out. “They’re younger than-“ Most of the DA when they’d only started to learn self-defence.
“It’s the Mafia. No one cares,” Chikusa says monotonously. Brokenly. Ken says nothing, eyes riveted on the fight.
It gets worse. The External Advisor brings Sasagawa’s innocent little sister and her friend to watch him get utterly demolished. Except he picks himself up and punches his opponent’s leg out. Who is then shot in the back by his own allies.
“Oh god,” Nagi whispers beside Harry, clutching his hand. “Oh my god.”
I don’t want you fighting, Harry thinks. And then is distracted.
“Tomorrow will be the battle for the Lightning Rings.”
At first Harry doesn’t get why the Sawada kid freaks out, because surely they couldn’t mean the afro-kid? Surely not?
Merlin damn it.
“Screw it,” he says.
“Hari-kun?!” Nagi exclaims. He turns to her.
“I’m not letting them send a toddler into battle.”
The Lightning Battle is on the roof of Namimori Middle School. The weather is lousy.
The battlefield is a nightmare. Lightning rods jut out like fangs, gathering thunderbolts from the sky and channelling it into the floor. Harry swallows.
“Hari-kun…” Nagi whispers worriedly.
“I’ll be fine.” He straightens, rights his glasses. “I’ve done something like this before.”
“Crazy,” Ken mutters. “Don’t die, Magician.“
“It would be inconvenient,” Chikusa agrees.
“I’ll do my best,” Harry answers.
And steps outside of Nagi’s illusion, into the group of people. Sawada is still protesting, holding onto the Lambo kid like a lifeline. The Lightning Half Ring is stuck in the kid’s curly hair.
“I’ll be taking this,” Harry says, and snatches the piece of jewellery. “Thanks for holding onto this for me, kid.”
“Eh?” Sawada exclaims. “EH?!”
A baby in a raincoat levels a gun at Harry. “Who are you?” he asks dangerously.
“The new Lightning Guardian,” Harry answers, levelling an equally dangerous look back at the baby before offering Sawada a smile. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you.”
The kid looks like a deer in the headlights.
“What is going on here?!” the External Advisor blusters, shoving through the small crowd. “You!” He glares at Harry. “Give the ring back this instant! Who do you think you are?!”
Harry punches him in the jaw with everything he has. The guy goes to ground hard. Harry glares down at him. “I’m someone who hates seeing kids fight, asshole.”
Let it be him instead.
The guy jumps up, livid. “The Lightning Guardian is Lambo Bovino! Get out of here fast and maybe I’ll forget about this!”
“Dad!” the Sawada kid exclaims. Good kid, Harry thinks.
“I’ve heard better threats from a half-dead snake-human mutation,” Harry snorts at the blond asshole. “Tell me, how do you expect a toddler to win against an assassin? I’m sure everyone here wants to know.”
“The Guardians were all picked for a reason!” the External Advisor bellows. “You are not needed here and I will have you prosecuted for this!”
“Hari-kun may not be needed,” a quiet voice speaks up. Nagi steps up beside Harry, almost quailing at the many glares levelled at her. But she straightens and fixes her calm gaze on the Advisor. “But I am. You came to me.” She holds up the Mist Ring. Exclamations sound in the background, but Harry’s attention is on Nagi. “You need me. You need him. You need us.” She drops her hand. “And neither of us will fight in the Mist Battle for people who will send a toddler into certain death.” Then she turns to Sawada Tsunayoshi with the sweetest smile on her face. “Hello Boss. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Nagi.”
Harry is in love.
The Advisor is gasping for air. “This- this!”
“I’ll be going then,” Harry says flatly.
“I extremely don’t get what’s going on!” the boxer from yesterday shouts. “But let’s do the usual again!”
Huh?
Harry and Nagi are dragged into a team huddle.
“What’s his name?” someone hisses.
“Harry, baseball idiot!” another whisper-yells back.
“Hari, fight!” they shout. Harry… feels warm. Nice kids.
Nagi kisses his cheek. “Good luck, Hari-kun.”
He jumps into the battlefield. There are sneers, disparaging remarks, demands if this is within the rules. Harry snorts. “Your robot over there interfered in the Sun Battle yesterday and it was okay. Also, are you saying you’re scared? You should be, you know. What was your name again, moustache guy?”
Arrogant men. So easy to bait.
Harry utterly destroys Levi A. Than.
The lightning coming from the sky doesn’t bother him, his own green lightning counters it. “Barely tickles,” he smirks.
He makes the umbrella weapons explode. Harry had trained his wandless magic while on his travels.
Physical combat? Harry can apparate out of the way. Shove the guy into lightning rods from behind. Watch him fry.
He’s Harry freaking Potter, Man-Who-Conquered, Saviour of the Wizarding World. He fought and won a damn war. Some stupid two-bit assassin is nothing.
When it’s done and he’s been declared the winner, Nagi jumps down and kisses him right in front of everyone. He forgets all previous objections. (Don’t really matter in the Mafia anyway.)
“Damn,” he whispers when they come up for air.
“You were taking too long,” Nagi mumbles back, blushing. “Go out with me?”
“Anything you want, Nagi.”
“Harry, you have to come home! We need you, the world needs you!”
“Sorry, Hermione,” Harry says into the phone. “They’ll have to figure it out themselves.” He grins, casting a look around. They’d had an impromptu party at Kokuyo Center after all the battles were finally done with. Everyone’s asleep, sprawled out over each other. Nagi’s head rests on Harry’s shoulder.
