A/N: Hello, MrsRegulusBlack here! First of all I want to thank everybody who took the time to leave a review, favourite and/or follow the first chapter of this story! I hope you all enjoy chapter two! Also, for those wondering: yes, Levi will be in this story, he'll just make his debut later on (I've got plans for him mwahahah) so you'll just have to do with the rest of the Varia for now~
Anyway, so here's a question: What do you think Xanxus should call Hermione? I'm open for suggestions, if you have any.
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR or Harry Potter.
Your parents have informed us of the current situation. Expect us there by tomorrow evening.
- Mammon
The best way to start this out would probably be by saying that Hermione's parents weren't actually dentists.
No, as official members of the CEDEF's International Affairs and Cooperation Department, Daniel and Jean Granger actually lead a much more thrilling life than that. They weren't assassins, Mafiosi or even official Vongola members, but that didn't mean they didn't get to see and deal with their own fair share of interesting underground happenings during a run-of-the-mill business day.
Daniel, in particular, was rather fond of telling people about that one time when Moretti the Murdered had gotten himself into a spot of bother of sorts by falling asleep on public transport while on his city trip to London. Both the Famiglia and Daniel's squad had spent three days looking for him, and the owner of the morgue had nearly had a heart attack when the man he'd been about to cut open suddenly opened his eyes and stared at him in confusion.
Despite their claimed independence from the main Vongola HQ, it was their job as one of the IACD's many branches to organize and take care of any trouble and business that arose with Vongola-related complications in the United Kingdom. This usually involved covering up after any disasters and messes left behind by Mafiosi under Vongola or its allies' jurisdiction so that the Omertà could be upheld, and no civilians would get needlessly involved. After all, nobody wanted the Vindice showing up on their doorsteps.
Such being the nature of their work, it wasn't unusual for the IACD to come into contact with some of the more… interesting assets of the Vongola. The Varia and its upper echelons were – perhaps unsurprisingly – some of the more familiar faces around Daniel and Jean's branch. So familiar, in fact, that many of them were on first name basis with one another already.
Daniel's relationship with Xanxus went further back than that though. The two of them had met back in their childhoods (teenage years, for Daniel), when Frederico, Enrico and Massimo were still alive and the Varia was still under the rule of Tyr. The ordeal had involved a lot of stubborn head-butting, one-upping the other and trying to gain the upper hand by any means necessary. Daniel's finger still bore the battle scars of where a ten-year-old Xanxus had bitten him the first time they met.
There was a certain camaraderie, or at least a level of mutual understanding, to be developed through constant roughhousing and fighting games, and while Daniel had always gotten along rather splendidly with Nono's three eldest, his friendship (if one could even call it that) with Xanxus had always been a bit more on the rocky edge. But then again, what wasn't when it came to the Varia boss?
When Hermione Jean Granger was born on a rainy September day, she was her parents' pride and joy. Nobody but Xanxus himself had been particularly surprised by the Grangers' choice of godparents.
(Squalo had learnt the hard way not to mock Xanxus about the way the older teen cradled Hermione while doing his paperwork, because that usually got him hit by random glasses of whatever alcoholic beverage his boss was currently having.)
So, really, Hermione had known of the mafia, its inner workings, the Vongola and Varia long before she ever got her Hogwarts letter. She had also known that her godfather and his subordinates showing up anywhere uninvited was usually bad for the general well-being of others and/or the environment itself.
"Why are you here?" The words were out of her mouth before Hermione could think better of it and it was no real surprise when everybody in the Great Hall suddenly turned to stare at her. Had the tables been turned, she was sure she'd have been staring as well.
She was still holding Mammon's letter in her hands, caught in a limbo that was somewhere between confused and outright panicked. They couldn't really be here, right? They were supposed to be in Italy! (Then again, it was the Varia.) But Hogwarts, A History clearly stated that the castle was supposed to be impossible to track down for muggles! (Then again, Hermione considered, this was the Varia.).
Really, any excuse Hermione might've come up with could easily be countered by: then again, this was the Varia. The word "impossible" simply didn't exist in their dictionaries.
"Hermione-chaaan~ Hello, dear!" It was with a rather familiar squeal of delight that Lussuria (or mama Luss, as the man fancied calling himself) launched himself at Hermione- the metaphorical hearts and colourful aura practically pouring off him.
Lussuria might have been the Varia member with the least threatening appearance, but Neville still squeaked rather fearfully and scooted a few seats over when the man came to a stop right behind him.
"Oh, look at you! You've grown so much- let mama Luss hug you!"
Hermione didn't resist – experience had taught her that there was no point in fighting a Muay Thai expert at least twice her size - and let herself be enveloped in a great, big hug. Gingerly, she hugged Lussuria back. By the time the man pulled away, the rest of the Varia had gathered around them as well. Xanxus had manhandled some poor kid's food out of his grasp, taken a seat, and was now eating it himself.
"Hello, Hermione."
"Sup."
"Long time no see, brat."
"I trust you've been reading the books on financial studies I've been sending you?"
Hermione just gave them all a flat stare. "Why are you here?".
"Ushishi~ what's up with that look?" Belphegor grinned, a large grin stretching out on his lips. "The Prince would almost say you're not happy to see him, sorellina."
With blonde bangs covering his eyes, an easy grin on his lips and a crown perched on top of his head, the Varia's resident prince hadn't changed much since Hermione had first met him when he was eleven. He still referred to himself in third person, and the fact that he excused any of his mistakes and misgivings by saying he was a Prince probably hadn't changed either.
He walked and held himself with a sort grace that wasn't entirely usual for boys his age, and Hermione noticed it had many of the older female students, of all four houses, leaning over to whisper to their friends.
Prince Belphegor was entirely unaware of this… or rather, entirely aware of it and too vain to care about things he took for granted or considered his birthright.
"Well, I am – of course – but… that doesn't answer my question."
(Somewhere down the Hall, somebody whispered rather loudly "Who is he and why is he talking to Hermione Granger?")
Xanxus grunted.
"Didn't that trash send you a note?" He turned to glare at Mammon, who insisted she had sent the letter and pointed out Hermione was even holding it right now.
"It's two sentences long!" The Gryffindor protested, waving the offending sheet of paper in front of her extended family. "Your parents have informed us of the current situation. Expect us there by tomorrow evening. That doesn't explain anything!"
"Time is money, Hermione. I included the essential information."
"It just arrived! And how is that essential information?!"
"We gave you a warning, didn't we?" Xanxus spoke, a challenging edge to his tone of voice even Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to try and contest… at least not before he had had a good meal and at least three glasses of wine… maybe even a chance to shoot somebody as well... "Which is more than we can say about you. The hell happened to keeping us up to date?"
Oh. That.
"…"
Bel grinned manically, digging something out of his coat pocket. It was a piece of parchment and on it Hermione could see what she recognised to be her own neat handwriting… Xanxus, Squalo, Mammon and Lussiria were all piercing her with deeply disapproving looks. The Prince cleared his throat and started reading through the letter in perfect Italian:
"Dear everyone… something about Harry, then a thing about transfiguration… potions… not important, not important… ah, where is it?... Oh- here. Ahem. Everything's alright and quiet at Hogwarts. The most interesting thing there's been to report is Sir Nicholas' death day party, and as you know, that wasn't much fun… nothing much since then. Love, Hermione."
Five gazes stared her down. Hermione attempted an innocent smile.
"… I'm sorry?"
"VOOOOII. You damn better be! We had to hear about the attacks through your parents!"
"Ushishi~ you're in trouble now."
"Just so you know, I'm going to charge you for this."
"Mammon's being a greedy baby again." Bel grinned, pinching the infant's cheeks. Mammon, disgruntled, slapped the Prince's hands away. "But just for the record, the Prince won't be letting you off the hook that easily either."
Oh… that didn't sound good… that didn't sound good at all.
By that point, the Varia had all seated themselves around the Gryffindor table, making themselves at home and grabbing some food from the clearly terrified students sitting around them. Gryffindor bravery or not, most of them didn't seem too keen on fighting back. Which, given the fact that each and every one of the newcomers were trained mafia assassins… was probably a good idea. Not that they knew that. Thank god.
It was then that Hermione noticed something was missing. Or rather… someone was missing. She opened her mouth to ask about it when Squalo suddenly seemed to come to the same realization. Turning his head around, the silver-haired swordsman groaned.
"Where the fuck is Levi?"
"Huh…" Bel muttered, taking a look around the Great Hall before offering a disinterested shrug, "looks like the peasant's not here…"
"Beats me."
"The idiot probably got lost. You know he's directionally challenged."
"Oh my~ shouldn't we go look for him?"
"Like hell, it's his own fault he got lost."
"Pshh, I still don't get how that piece of shit made Varia Quality. Pathetic."
Mutually concluding that none of them gave a rat's ass about the matter, the assassins turned back to their dinner. Only that they never actually got to eat anything, because just a second later Professor Dumbledore was standing behind them and clearing his throat.
"What?" Xanxus snapped. The headmaster seemed to be unfazed by the man's blatant rudeness (though several professors looked disapproving in his stead) and simply smiled.
"I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. …?"
"Trash. You handle this."
"VOOOOOIII!" Squalo, who had been in the middle of inspecting the chicken wings on his plate, muttered something about bastards and lazy bosses but turned his gaze towards the old wizard all the same. "It's Squalo, old man. Superbia Squalo. What d'you want?"
"Mr. Squalo… My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the headmaster of this school."
"Yeah, whatever. Nice to freaking meet you."
This couldn't end well!
"Professor-!" Hermione exclaimed at the same time as Mammon calmly said, "Albus."
Hermione blinked, turning to face the arcobaleno as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She wasn't the only one either. Did Mammon… somehow know Professor Dumbledore?
"…. Viper?"
Apparently she did.
"I go by the name Mammon now. Please use that when referring to me from now on." The arcobaleno coolly stated. "Boss, do I have permission to handle this?"
The scarred man looked from the old headmaster to the baby with a look of consideration in his eyes. Finally, apparently deciding it didn't really matter to him who did the talking as long as the problem was resolved, he shrugged and nodded.
"Permission granted." He said and Mammon hopped off the bench she'd been standing on, turning to face Dumbledore.
"To my office then?" Dumbledore suggested, to which the baby nodded.
"Yes, that will do."
Hermione wasted no time interrogating the newcomers.
"Mammon knows Professor Dumbledore?!" She demanded. She was looking at the man seated next to her, the one with the scars and red eyes, and almost unconsciously, Harry's hand was moving closer to where he kept his wand.
What was that spell they'd learnt in that disastrous first edition of the duelling club again? Right, Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Even though she seemed to know them, Harry was ready to protect his friend if need be.
"Looks like it." The man replied with a shrug. "Whatever it was, it was before the trash joined the Varia."
"Ushishi~ Mammon's so ooold."
Considering that Mammon was a baby, Harry didn't see how that could be. Or how she could even talk that well, for that matter.
"Would you be a dear and pass me the potatoes, please?"
The man that sat next to Harry spoke fluent English, they all did, but there was something about their accents that made Harry think they weren't native speakers. European, probably. Maybe… Italian? The prince's accent (Harry wondered if he really was one) was just a bit different from the rest of the others' though- maybe he was from somewhere in northern Europe? In that case, what were they doing in Scotland? At Hogwarts, no less? They were all too old to be students…
"Hello, dear?" A gloved hand was being waved in front of his face. "The potatoes, please? Could you pass them?"
"Oh, er – right, of course. I'm sorry." Harry quickly obliged, feeling a bit embarrassed for spacing off. "Here you go."
"Thank you, hon."
The man with the feather boa served himself a generous serving of mashed potatoes and placed the bowl back down. Across the table, the silver-haired swordsman (whom Harry had previously thought to be a woman, for a moment) seemed to be in some sort of an argument with his boss. Despite the fact they were speaking what Harry recognized to be Italian, Hermione seemed to be keeping up quite easily, occasionally adding in a word or two.
Since when did Hermione know Italian?
"You must be Harry, right? Harry Potter?"
Harry's hand automatically moved up to his hair, trying to flatten it out somewhat so that his scar wouldn't be visible. He hated that thing. The man wasn't looking at his scar though, he was just taking in his features.
"Round glasses, green eyes, that hair… you look just like Hermione described you!"
"Err… thank you?"
"And you! You must be Ron Weasley…" Ron awkwardly nodded, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He had obviously not expected to be addressed. "Nice to meet you, kids, now I know you've probably never heard of me- but believe me- we've heard all about you. My name is Lussuria, by the way."
"Uhh… pleasure."
"How come you know us? If… it's okay to ask?"
"Why, Hermione told us all about you! The way I understand it, you're very dear to her. You'll take good care of her, won't you?" There was a sweet, sugary smile on the man's lips, but the tone of voice he'd spoken in carried something decidedly sinister. Harry felt like he was being threatened.
Hastily, both boys nodded.
"Y-yeah."
"Of course!"
"Wonderful! Then we'll get along just fine~" There were goosebumps all over Harry's skin. This man, The Boy Who Lived decided, was scary.
"So, um, Mr. Lussuria- how do you know Hermione? Are you… family?"
"Just Lussuria is fine, dear. Or Luss-nee, if you want to. To answer your question though, in a way, I suppose you could say that. See that tall handsome man with the scars over there (not exactly the description Harry would've gone for, admittedly, but he did know who was meant so he nodded)? That's Hermione's godfather."
Godfather?
God father.
Godfather?!
"Since when?!" Ron squeaked.
"Since she was born, silly."
"I didn't know Hermione had Italian roots…" Lavender Brown murmured thoughtfully. Harry had to agree with her. All this time they had known her, Hermione had never even mentioned Italy, let alone speaking the language or having a godfather there… he had thought he knew his friends quite well, but did he?
"She doesn't. It's all a bit complicated so you'll excuse me if I don't go into any details. Now, could someone pass me any of that juice you've been drinking?" It was a clear enough dismissal, a sign that the conversation was over and that the man would like to eat in silence or at least talk about something different now, but Ronald Weasley was nothing if not insistent when his curiosity was peaked.
"And he's your boss? Why are you all here?"
Lussuria sighed, opened his mouth to say something, but was instead interrupted by the blonde prince sitting across from him.
"You ask too many questions for a peasant, Weasley. Do yourself a favour and keep your nose out of places it doesn't belong or you might just end up… in more than one piece, ushishi~"
"Excuse me?" Ron looked part taken aback and part genuinely terrified. Harry looked back and forth between the prince and Lussuria, but he couldn't tell whether the boy had been serious or just joking. "That was- he's kidding, right?"
"Ah, this is Bel… you'd do well to follow his advice, actually. It's not really any of your business anyway. Though I suppose it's obvious enough that, yes, we do work for Xanxus."
Harry didn't miss the fact that Ron's question was tentatively left unanswered. Which was quite unsettling.
"It's Prince Belphegor to you peasants." Bel haughtily announced instead. Weirdly, something about the blonde kind of reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy, only that where Malfoy just flounced about his name… Harry felt like Prince Belphegor actually had something to back it up. What exactly, the Gryffindor wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Are you… really a Prince?" Lavender questioned, to which the blonde arrogantly put his nose into the air.
"Of course. Crown Prince, even." For a moment Lussuria looked worried that Bel might go on, but the blonde didn't elaborate on the subject.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, your Highness!" The girl beamed, to which the Prince muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'of course it is', "My name is Lavender Brown."
"Look at that. We've finally come across somebody who knows how to treat royalty…"
"Do you believe that?" Ron hissed to Harry. "He didn't even say what country he comes from…! Just because my Uncle Billius says he's a goblin, doesn't mean he is."
Harry shrugged noncommittally.
"No, that was actually quite smart of your classmate." Lussuria commented, taking out a napkin and lightly dabbing his lips with it. "Being on Bel's good side is in most people's best interest."
"… It is…?"
The man chuckled.
"Oh, absolutely. Your friend, Hermione, discovered this early on. And there's no better way to get in Bel's good books than by feeding his ego." Harry filed this information away for later use as something told him he might need it. Ron was much less impressed but decided not to mention it either way.
Not really feeling all that hungry anymore, Harry pushed his plate away from himself and wondered when his life had taken this turn for the weird… er.
"I see…" Dumbledore thoughtfully hummed, absently stroking the length of his long, white beard. Mammon, once known as Viper to the masses, was sitting in the chair opposite of him, perched upon a stack of various-objects-transfigured-into-cushions.
The arcobaleno watched him with hidden eyes.
"Is it settled, then?" She questioned.
"I suppose so… As long as you and your, ah, teammates keep yourselves to the deal."
"Of course."
"And the Statue of Secrecy? We both know we won't be able to keep this quiet – I expect many students will be writing home as soon as they're dismissed. With everything already going on, I'd be surprised if the Ministry decided to overlook it…"
The Varia Mist Guardian offered a non-committal shrug. It wouldn't be the first time they had to deal with the authorities- the fact that they could wave around those overly-glorified sticks they called wands didn't change the fact they were first and foremost human and as such not immune to the temptation of bribery… or force, she supposed, if bad came to worse.
No, the arcobaleno wasn't worried.
"Leave that to me."
And that was how it all began.
Sorellina: Italian for "little sister"