Hello there! Metronome here. I'm not sure how long this will be. I don't think this will go much further than when Mukuro meets Tsuna, although I might take it to Chrome and Mukuro's meeting if I have enough motivation. We'll just have to see!

Warnings: Violence, human experimentation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn. There. I said it.

A small boy sat, huddled on the bed. Most would call his expression dead, but some can still see the fire in the boy's single visible eye. He gripped his arms tightly and held his legs close to his chest. He rested his head upon the tops of his knees and he cured his toes, arched his feet, and gritted his teeth in anger at the life he had been sold into. His blue hair fell into his eye, and despite it being disheveled, oily, and covered in various fluids, it fell neatly into a pineapple-like shape. The only clothing that he had to wear upon his skinny frame was a white gown that fell just above his knees when he stood up.

All in all, the boy was forgettable. He wasn't all too different from the many other experiments within the walls of the facility. The boy was tired and weak in appearance and it was only when one looked closer that they would see the hidden strength in the way the boy held himself. The boy was proud, if nothing else, and held a mind rivaled by few. And now, thanks to the scientists obsessed with research and advancement, that that little boy was bent on revenge. That hatred that the boy fed and nourished, in the hoped that it would one day let him escape, was what attracted the attention of a being that no one wanted to cross.

Mukuro Rokudo was 10 years old when he met the Master of Death for the first time. Mukuro Roduko was 10 years old when he gained an ally and set about a plot that would change the mafia world forever. And Mukuro Rokudo was 10 years old when he died for the very first time.

….

Lord Hadrian James Potter-Prevell-Black had lived a long time. He had seen exactly six million four hundred thirty two thousand seven hundred fifty three civilizations rise and fall. He had helped many of them start up and grow and had destroyed more than a few whenever it fancied him. And whenever the world he was in broke or ended, he simply reset the place and let the people start again.

Since that very first lifetime, so many worlds had passed by.

Harry had long since come to terms with his role as an immortal. After watching the people of his first life die away, he had been pissed. He had been angry and terrified at the same time that he couldn't join his wife and children. He had spent a great many centuries in mourning, but had eventually come to accept his role. Since that point he had gone through a great many 'moods' as he called them. He had spoken out for human rights, secluded himself in the mountains for study, he had worked for the betterment of humanity, and had gone around teaching people much of what he knew. There was even a few points in his life where he went on killing sprees, destroying the cities and places he crossed because he felt angry at humanity and its faults.

Recently, he had been bored. Nothing to interesting was happening and he wasn't in the mood to go on one of his human rights revolutions or go about teaching people. So, he wondered from place to place in the hopes that that might alleviate some of his boredom. He continued this until one day, he found an interesting little boy, locked up in a cage.

….

M67-11215 looked up at the man in front of him. He wasn't a scientist, he knew that, but he wasn't sure what the man was. The man stood straight and proud. He had inky black hair that fell to just below his shoulders and eyes that were a beautiful emerald green color that the boy had never seen before. The man wore an expensive black suit with a long black cloak resting on his shoulders. In his hands rested a cane with a silver snake's head for the grip. The man looked at M67-11215, dressed in his experiments garb, with an odd look in his eyes. He crouched down as to be eye to eye with M67-11215.

"Hello," The man said, voice soft, "Who are you?"

"Experiment M67-11215." He responded, voice emotionless.

The man frowned, "M67-11215?"

"Yes."

"How interesting…." The man reached out with a gloved hand and ran a finger down the bandaged side of M67-11215's face, "Who did this?"

"The white coats."

The man paused and looked M67-11215 in the eye, "And how do you feel about that?"

M67-11215 was silent for a moment, before clenching his fists and answering, voice filled with cold fury, "Angry."

The man smiled and pulled away. He stood up and held out a hand to M67-11215, who looked up at the man with wide, curious eyes.

"Do you want revenge? I can help you if you do." The man said, eyes glinting in the light peeking into the cage from the outside.

M67-11215 hesitated for a moment, watching the man's hand as he weighed his options, before he reached out and took the man's hand. In response, the man grinned, "Good."

"Who are you?" M67-11215 questioned.

The man paused for a moment, a frown pursed on his lips, before he responded, "I am the Master of Death," his lips quirked up into a smile, "But you can call me Hadrian."

….

"Are you certain you wish to go through with this? Hadrian asked, leaning against the wall of the cage with an odd smirk on his face.

"Yes." M67-11215 responded, sitting on his bed with his chin up, shoulders pulled back, and hands folded on his lap.

"It will be painful."

"I don't care."

"And the others?"

"…"

Hadrian left the wall and knelt down in front of M67-11215, cupping the uncovered side of his face with a gloved hand, "Do what you wish, little one," He whispered, "If you want to bring them, then do so. I will not stop you. If you want to leave them behind, then do so. This is your choice."

M67-11215 nodded tersely, then forced himself into a slumped and defeated position when he head familiar footsteps echo down the hallway. Hadrian disappeared, leaving nothing behind to ever indicate that he was there.

When the door opened and artificial light flooded the room, M67-11215 looked up to see the outline of the scientist sent to pick him up.

"M67-11215?" The woman voiced, "Come with me."

M67-11215 got to his feet and followed the white coat, all the while listening to the sound of his bare feet against the cold floor and the distant sounds of machinery and gunfire. When they neared the room, M67-11215 began to steel his mind for what was sure to follow.

The woman opened to door to reveal an operating room and she led M67-11215 to the center of the room. They strapped him down to the table and M67-11215 listened absentmindedly to the rustling of labcoats and hushed whispers.

"Are we ready to begin with experiment #32 on M67-11215?"

"We're ready. Begin the first operation."

M67-11215 distantly felt hands removing the bandages covering his eye as he braced himself for the pain. Then, they began the 'operation.' They began picking at his eye with scalpels and injecting chemicals into his body.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and waited, only a little while longer, he told himself.

Then Hadrian appeared, his figure transparent and floating above the operation table. He smiled and reached down with a single, no longer gloved hand and plunged his long fingers into M67-11215's left eye.

He screamed.

It hurt more than anything M67-11215 had experienced before. It hurt more than the chemicals, the beatings, and the experiments. The pain radiated across his body like a fire filled with knives and needles that jabbed at every inch of his skin.

But with the pain came knowledge. He remembered living out the lives of many people. He remembered their experiences, pains, hardships, and happiness. He remembered living, dying, and being reborn. It was as he remembered that he realized something. Who am I? He questioned. He couldn't remember anymore. Was he the noblewoman who killed her husband for his money? Was he the child solider fighting for freedom in Russia? Was he the quiet artist in Spain? Or was he the child that was sold to the mafia by his family?

Then it went black. All the pain stopped and he was suddenly nothing.

~At that moment, M67-11215 died, and a new man took his place~

Suddenly everything came back, like a river of ice cold water over his head. He came back into his body to find himself still on the table. They were re-wrapping his face. He smirked up at them and whispered a single word, "Fools."

Blood.

There was suddenly blood everywhere. Illusions raced around him, devouring the scientists unlucky enough to be in the room. In the boy's hands now rested the comforting weight of a five pronged trident. He listened to their screams, almost giggling with glee as they died before his eyes.

Then it went quiet again.

The boy stood in the middle of the carnage he created with that man's help and felt himself laughing.

"Kufufu…kufuhahaha HaHaHa!"

A door opened and the boy turned to see two young boys around his age standing there. The two looked at him with wide, but not fearful, eyes that clearly lingered on the crimson liquid that had splattered itself across his clothing and dripped from the walls in quiet drops.

The boy reached up to his face and removed the bandage covering his eye to reveal the pupil having changed into a kanji for 6. He then looked at the two to get a better picture of who they were.

The first had tanned skin and a long scar running across his nose and under his eyes. He had sun-kissed blonde hair that stuck up every which way. He was one of the animal gene experiments, the boy noted absentmindedly.

The other was slightly taller. His hair was short, dark blue - almost black – and his eyes had a glassy feeling about them despite holding an odd awareness in them. On his cheek was a barcode that signified his status as a member of the clone project.

"Kufufufufu, are you afraid?"

They shook their heads.

The boy tilted his head to one side and smiled, "Then join me. I'm leaving this place."

They remained quiet and unmoving for a moment longer, their wide eyes filling with something akin to hope. They then nodded, one of them - the blond - breaking out into a grin.

The boy walked towards them and they scrambled out of the way. He passed them, noting that Hadrian was waiting on the other side, seemingly invisible to everyone but him. He continued onwards, not looking back to see if the two were following him.

"U-um…"

The former M67-11215 didn't stop walking as he responded, "Yes?"

"W-who are y-you?"

He paused, then smiled, turning to face them, "Kufufu… You may call me Mukuro Rokudo."

The blond and the clone look at one another then smiled at each other.

"Yes! Mukuro-sama!"