Burn Me With Fire

by Shadowblayze

After the encounter with Quirrell, Harry's world drastically changes. In (sleep) comes a foul-mouthed man with a healthy amount of disregard (of reality). Or, where Harry meets a man who could somehow talk while encased in ice, and his world tilts, spins, and implodes. [Mentor!Xanxus, Different!HP, and eventual Familial!Varia.]

4. Trial

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Chapter Four

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'Xanxus is going to fucking kill me.'

Zabini was taller than Harry. Even with the good nutrition that he'd enjoyed for that last year of his life and Lussuria's interventions, Harry had been told, and accepted, that he was always going to be shorter than he would have been otherwise. The other boy had his hands fisted in the front of Harry's shirt and was pulling Harry towards him, forcing Harry to rest his hands on Zabini's waist just to keep his balance.

It made the scene uncomfortably intimate, which was not helping Harry think.

Damn Xanxus and his gleeful 'talk'. Harry thought sourly as he searched his captor's eyes for answers to this predicament.

Though, to be fair Lussuria had also waxed poetic about different sorts of sexual orientations and such. Harry had been surprised to learn that even though Lussuria enjoyed female pronouns and flirting with everything even remotely human, the man was actually asexual- as in entirely uninterested in having sexual relations with anyone. Lussuria had blithely explained- while fluttering around the Dursley kitchen making breakfast, with Aunt Petunia whimpering at the dining room table, no doubt equally horrified at both the mess Luss had been making and the topic of conversation- that he felt a moderate amount of sexual attraction he just all-over cringed at the idea of ever acting on it with another person.

Apparently one person early on in Lussuria's Varia career had made a crass remark about the man's orientation being 'unnatural' or 'false' and had snidely commented that maybe it was simply 'living beings' that Luss did not feel comfortable engaging in sexual acts with.

Lussuria had killed the man, but the Varia joke had lived on.

"Look, can we get out of the open to talk about this?" Harry asked after a few moments, shaking free of his wandering thoughts and not really wanting to start a fight in the hallway. A commotion would attract people; which was the exact opposite of how Harry wanted to start his year. Not to mention if it came down to fisticuffs then he would have to explain where he learned to fight and when- because Harry would give as good as he got- which would cause him to be the focus of all manner of unwanted additional scrutiny.

Zabini nodded stiffly, releasing Harry's collar only to immediately grab Harry's arm just above the elbow in a firm grip that caused Harry to have to hold his arm awkwardly. Zabini spun Harry around to walk slightly in front of him.

"Lead the way." Zabini said tersely.

So, Harry did. Immeasurably thankful that this section of the floor didn't actually have any portraits as he led the way to a familiar section of wall. "I have to pace back and forth in front of this three times for the door to appear." He explained, not particularly surprised when Zabini didn't let him go and merely paced with him.

The door appeared and they both slipped quickly inside, Harry quickly asking the Room to bar the door behind them.

Zabini, seemingly content that Harry wouldn't try to flee now that they were locked inside the Room, released the younger teen. The taller teen then sauntered over to one of the comfy looking couches that the room had provided and gracefully sprawled himself across the thing in a move that Harry very much envied. "I'm waiting, Potter." The other drawled, eyes sharp and calculating as he propped an elbow on a raised knee and used his open to palm as a prop for his chin.

Harry walked over and sat down in an overstuffed chair. The room they had been provided was cozy, with a few comfy looking couches and chairs with a square table in the middle and a cheerily crackling fire in the background. Harry truthfully wouldn't be surprised if a room that Lussuria had designed looked much like this one. "It happened when I killed Professor Quirrell at the end of First Year."

Zabini gave the young Potter a piercing look. "That's not an explanation, Potter."

Maybe it was the lack of judgement that Zabini projected despite obviously wanting answers or maybe it had something to do with Harry's deep desire for a comrade among his peers, but when Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to argue, the whole story spilled out instead.

Harry told Zabini about his first trip to the Bank with Hagrid, about the small package the man had retrieved then wound his tale through the events surrounding the Troll on Halloween and being suspicious of Professor Snape. That facilitated the events that led to finding the Cerberus. Of course then there was Norbert the Dragon and the fallout. Then the day Headmaster Dumbledore left the school and no one would listen; the traps under the trapdoor the Cerberus, going on alone and expecting Snape only to find Professor Quirrell and his passenger. Then fighting for his life and Quirrell screaming before blacking out and waking up in the Hospital Wing.

Throughout his storytelling, Zabini stayed silent. Though Zabini's eyes were intent, as if the other was carefully weighing his words, his tone, his body language, and his story's substance with each passing moment. When Harry had finished the story they lapsed in to not-quite-companionable but not-overtly-hostile silence for a short time.

"I think that you're telling the truth, but you're also leaving out a great deal. You mentioned a sister, well a brother that prefers female pronouns?" Zabini finally allowed though his tone was obviously querying; nearly blatantly probing for more information.

Harry's eyes hardened behind his glasses and his tone grew hostile. "I'm not telling you anything about him. The story from First Year you could have found out if you asked the right people, but nothing that you can threaten me with will make me tell you about my life away from this accursed place!"

Zabini uncurled from his couch and stood, causing Harry to slide to his feet as well. Neither drew their wands, but a fierce battle of wills seemed to take place as they glowered ferociously at the other, daring the other to make the first move and break the fragile peace in the air. After a few long moments Zabini finally spoke. "An Incumbent Vow, then?"

"What?" Harry asked warily, still keeping a sharp eye on Zabini's posture.

[Watch the hips and the shoulder, shitty brat.]

"An Incumbent Vow is a vow used by two or more unfamiliar or hostile parties who need to come to an agreement and have to reveal information that could be used to the detriment of each other otherwise." Zabini explained, his muscles slowly uncoiling as he forcibly relaxed his body in an attempt to appear less antagonistic. "It was most commonly used between high ranking nobles in the nonmagical Dark Ages when magicals had a much higher population and inter-house fighting was one of the most common causes of death. The two parties agree to a particular set of conditions and penalties, swear the vow, and conduct their business. The modern day magical contract is based on the Incumbent Vow, however the original Vow has been almost entirely forgotten by modern day magicals."

Harry blinked slowly as he processed that information. "That sounds ridiculously beneficial." He said somewhat dubiously, but mostly puzzled. "The kind of thing I'd actually expected of magic, actually so why, in the name of Merlin, isn't it being used more often? Or at all?"

Zabini's lips curled into a sneer and he sat back down, gesturing for Harry to do the same. "The contract is written in ink, but is sealed with blood; the amount of blood shed is proportional to the importance of the information exchanged, but typically anywhere from three to seven drops. Only the most sacred contracts need ten."

"That still doesn't sound all that bad." Harry commented idly, sitting back down and gesturing for Zabini to do the same.

After sitting back down on the couch Zabini ran a hand through his hair and sighed before he continued. "To understand you have to know that from 500 AD until about 780 AD the noble families actually had their squib lines run trades, farms, and all manner of businesses in the muggle world. If a child didn't exhibit magic by their fifth birthday they were given to the branch families to be raised, learning trades and such to benefit the family, even if only the head of each branch was aware of their magical relatives.

"Prior to the founding of Hogwarts by approximately three hundred years- the exact date that the school was established is unknown- some of the noble houses banded together to subvert a rival assembly of houses by using the twin of one of the house lords who was a squib to bind a contract in his brother's stead. The twin they used escaped from the family's manor, terrified, as he'd been pulled from his bed and into an entirely unfamiliar world and forced to shed blood to bind a contract that he couldn't even read- the use of which was extremely taboo in the nonmagical world at that time.

"The man ran to the nearby village, telling the citizens about magic, blood sacrifices, and portraits of dead people that spoke. The wizards found him shortly thereafter and killed him, changing the memories of townspeople and leaving, but they did not finish the job properly, as it had taken them several days to realize that the man had gone missing and people had departed the village after hearing the man's unbelievable story. Scholars believe that this incident is actually what sparked the Witch Hunts and the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy. The Statute destroyed the system of using branch houses, and many of the lines were lost, only to resurface later as what are now known as 'muggle borns'.

"Hogwarts, of course, invited these isolated magicals at the behest of three of the Founders, but Slytherin felt that they were a security risk and refused to teach any who would later return to the nonmagical world. He felt it was a waste of his talent when most of the students that he trained would go back to fulfill their duties to their families as farmers or laborers and only use magic in secret, as if they were ashamed of having it. The only way other option for a 'muggle born' was to swear fealty or marry into an established line, but many were unwilling to do so once they found that they had to give Oaths sworn in and on their blood."

Harry's eyes were wide behind his glasses by the time Zabini finished. "Whoa! I never knew that! Why doesn't Binns teach us this stuff? Where did you learn it?"

Zabini smiled humorlessly and rubbed his hands together as he turned his eyes downward, focusing on a spot across the room somewhere. "My Mamma's father's family was poor, but they had journals that go back as far as fifty years before the Fall of Rome. One of my great-aunts spent most of her life translating and summarizing the events, I read her summarizations in my lessons as a child. Also, as the nonmagical world's population exploded and the magicals burrowed deeper into their holes, the numbers of established magical lines began to decline as the 'muggle borns' refused to stay in our world and returned to the nonmagical families, marrying fellow nonmagicals and causing magic to disappear from the line, while the world that had taught them to read, write, and fight was slowly dying. This bred resentment among the magical lines and gave rise to the school of thought that eventually became known as 'blood purity'."

"But, isn't that like cutting off your nose to spite your face? I mean, this is the only school for magic in England, it holds all of the kids who turned eleven before September first of this year up to all who turned eleven prior to September first seven years ago and there's like, what, a thousand of us?" Harry asked, puzzled and a bit sick at how little he knew about the world he had been born into.

A parchment with elegant writing appeared on the table before them and they leaned closer to see what it said:

Current Accounting of Students

There are 726 students currently within the Wards of Hogwarts School.

127 students have been assigned to Slytherin House.

187 students have been assigned to Ravenclaw House.

173 students have been assigned to Gryffindor House.

239 students have been assigned to Hufflepuff House.

Harry gave Zabini a startled look and nattered, waving his hands around for emphasis. "If that's seven years' worth of kids, the overall population has got to be tiny! I mean, even assuming that none of them are siblings- like the Weasleys- and they all have two parents, that's only like fifteen hundred people on top of the kids! Even with magical longevity and assuming there are at least three generations of people per family that's like- that's-that's-crazy. I mean, there's like, 50 million people who live in nonmagical England! Seven hundred and twenty six is like, less than a half of a single percent!"

Zabini nodded, having been staring at Harry amusedly. The Italian teen's lips curled up into a rueful smile. "Yes. Our population is small and getting smaller, which is why purebloods were so desperate to follow the Dark Lord. There's no official census, but England and Ireland together are widely guessed to have a magical population of about 40,000 people overall."

"But he didn't He just go around killing and torturing people?" Harry asked skeptically, shifting around and settling a bit more comfortably into his armchair.

"He made it a point to only kill 'blood traitors'- those who clung to their nonmagical roots or nonmagical culture. He particularly did not appreciate those who allowed nonmagical prejudice- not that Purebloods don't have enough of their own- to seep into the fabric of our society. Like the 'muggleborns' fearing anything that used blood or their disdain for same-sex or polyamorous relationships seeping into the fabric of our culture." Zabini explained, also settling back a bit and letting the rest of the earlier tension to bleed out of his muscles.

Harry's eyes brightened as he finally understood. "That's what 'blood traitor' means! I always wondered, but I never wanted to ask Ron, back when we were still friends. Malfoy called Ron that back on the Express First Year, just before he made an arse out of himself and I refused to shake his hand."

Zabini smirked a little before he rolled his eyes and tried to affect a mock-scowl. "Yeah, thanks for that. The prat moaned about it in the Common Room for ages."

Harry grinned back, unrepentant. "You're welcome." He informed Zabini smugly.

They both stared at each other for a long moment before breaking down into laugher. After a few more moments of mirth they finally sobered and returned to the original topic.

"So…." Zabini said leadingly, leaning forward and fixing Harry with a neutral stare.

"Right." Harry nodded resolutely, grabbing his discarded bag and pulling out writing supplies. "The room can make anything, but it disappears once you get passed the door, which is why I haven't asked for a water."

"You could ask for a glass and use Augumenti." Zabini pointed out.

Harry led his head fall forward and land against the table with a rather solid sounding thunk. "I'm an idiot." He proclaimed, his voice muffled by the wood of the table.

Zabini's smirk returned in full force, though Harry could not see it. "Nope, just a Gryffindor."

"Helpful." Harry groused, raising his head and glancing out across the table at the other. After a short staring contest Harry huffed in offended amusement before giving in and asking. "May I have a glass please?"

Instantly a plain looking glass appeared on the table.

Zabini pouted theatrically. "What about me?"

Harry gave him a scandalized look and took out his wand in preparation to fill his glass. "Ask the room yourself, Mr. Lazy!" He spluttered indignantly.

That earned him a roll of the other boy's dark eyes, but he did call out for his own glass. Shortly, another glass appeared.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry grumbled at the expectant looking Zabini.

Zabini waved a hand towards his glass grandly. "Aren't you going to be a gracious host and fill my glass for me?"

Harry looked at him askance. "You hijacked me!" He accused the smirking Slytherin.

Zabini gave him a very put out look and spoke slowly, as if he was explaining something to a small child. "Because you liquefied a Dementor with Dying Will Flames! I had to cover for you to the Headmaster and field questions about it all evening! You owe me!"

Harry huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he filled the glasses with water from his wand. "Fine, you great lazy oaf! You have to write out the contract then!"

Zabini gave him a flat look as he reached for the writing supplies and arranging them in front of himself. "I was going to do that anyways, I've seen your chicken scratch, and it makes me want to stab myself with a quill." He informed the young Potter tartly.

"It's gotten better!"

"No, it's finally gotten legible!"

They shared a look and burst out laughing again, a cheerful sort of air lingering between them and chasing out the remnants of previous tension.

In the end, after Harry pointed out that he needed to talk to his sorella's Boss, Zabini- "call me Blaise, Adi"- agreed to wait until the following weekend to give Harry time to find out how much he was allowed to share.

They wandered down to the kitchens for lunch. While they ate lunch at one of the modest kitchen tables neither of them wanted to deal with the business of the Great Hall and thus left the kitchen with a picnic basket that the overeager elves were more than happy to supply them. Keeping to some of the lesser known passages that Harry had discovered the previous year they made it back to the Room without being accosted. Once inside the Room they shamelessly hid from the student population for the rest of the day, mostly lounging on the couches and reading books that the room provided them.

Harry sat on his bed that night and was looking at his phone warily, trying to work up the courage to send the incredibly detailed message that he had spent the last hour and a half writing. The nervous thirteen year old could practically feel how livid Xanxus was going to be.

All the way in Scotland. Even with Xanxus presumably in Italy.

Gulping, he hastily hit the send button before his imagination could come up with any more lovely scenarios of Xanxus murdering him with a spork or a spoon or a serviette or something**. Harry quickly turned his phone off, stashed it in his bag- which he kept on his bed with him as he charmed his curtains shut at night, it was a habit that he'd started last year- and did his best to calm his breathing so he could sleep.

'Xanxus is going to fucking kill me.'

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Harry woke the following morning with a rather persistent feeling of impending doom.

His intuition was laughing at him, he would later swear.

It was Friday. Classes had been cancelled the day before because of the complications with the Dementors, but they had class today. So Harry had followed the routine that he had established the previous year- getting up early, exercising in the Room, showering, grabbing breakfast from the kitchens, attending classes, and ghosting through the halls.

More than one person had tried to corner him, but Harry had had plenty of practice evading people in this castle. Though the Weasley twins were frighteningly good at tracking, so he was going to have to practice more as he couldn't afford to slack off and get sloppy. He and Blaise had nodded at each other, but were otherwise keeping their new tentative association to themselves and within the sanctity of the Room.

So, at the end of the day Harry once again found himself seated on his bed. He dithered with casting his night time charms on his bed curtains, checking them and recasting them several times, but eventually he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring down at his powered down phone in apprehension.

Harry really hoped that Xanxus hadn't found a way reach through it to wring his neck.

Taking one last, bracing breath, Harry powered up the phone….but hid it under his covers as it booted up. Harry resolutely ignored the little voice inside his head that dryly informed him that he was trying to put off the inevitable. He cheerfully ignored that Xanxus-sounding little voice until he heard the damming little chirping notifications from under his covers that informed him that he had new and unread text messages.

For a moment he allowed himself to dislike those cheerful little tones more than he had ever disliked anything.

'Maybe I should just wait until tomorrow? I mean, then it would still be early enough for me to reply and everything-'

Harry yelped in alarm as he swore he felt the phone casing warm against his palm.

'Al-alrighty t-then.' Harry thought uncertainly as he pulled his phone out from under his covers and looked at the screen. 'Here goes nothing.'

―XV―I'm going to fucking kill you, shitty brat.―

'Dun-dun-dun, I'm dead.' Harry thought bleakly as he read the first line of the message.

―XV―You can't give him names, but you can be general. We were fucking scouting the trash, tell him to expect a letter from his shitty fucking uncle. Your 'aunt' is going to send the Head-trash a letter to make sure that he lets you 'go home' for your Christmas hols. I swear to fucking Secondo if you get into one more situation like this before then I'm going to fucking use your skull for a wineglass. The only person that you are allowed to have advise you until your hols is the shark trash, he will tell me anything that he feels that I need to know. Remember what I've taught you and you'll be fine, shitty brat.―

'Wait, what? What's going to happen over the hols? And why can't I talk to Xanxus directly?' Harry thought anxiously as he hurried through the screens so he could check his other messages.

―SS―You'd better figure out if you can trust this trash, kitty. If you can, I'd suggest working on teamwork now. You do remember what we are, right?―

―LS―Sweetling! I hope you're eating well! Boss says that we're not supposed to give you advice from now until after your hols. You can still send me messages, though! I expect them! Ta!―

Harry felt like ice had slid down his spine as his phone slipped from his weak grip and landed face-down on the comforter.

He could only talk to Squalo until the hols? What was going to happen then? Why would he and Blaise need to work on teamwork?

Was Xanxus tired of him, was he dead weight?

Harry did not sleep well that night, tossing and turning as he tried to come to terms with being unable to even text his mentor.

What was going on?

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Harry's restlessness only grew worse the next day.

'Why is Xanxus shutting me out? Why Squalo and not Lussuria? What is going to happen over the hols?' the thoughts circles his mind relentlessly, distracting him and adding to the apprehensive weight in his gut.

Harry grabbed breakfast from the kitchens- along with a basket for lunch and dinner- and headed towards the Room. As usual he stuck to the lesser known passages and such to keep from being accosted, even though it was still fairly early, the first bits of light only now breaking over the grounds, though the Dementors added a sharp, unpleasant bite to the already chilly air.

Truthfully he was not particularly surprised to see Blaise holding up a section wall beside the tapestry.

"Blaise." He greeted the other in a subdued voice, hurriedly pacing back and forth and calling up the same room they had used the first night back.

Blaise gave him a wan smile once the door appeared and Harry paused to look up at the other. "Adi. I got a letter from my uncle. We can- should, I suppose- have that discussion now."

Harry wordlessly agreed, slipping inside with Blaise following on his heels, the door barring itself behind them as usual. They both settled into their respective seats and Harry parked the basket on the far side of the table after taking out drinks and some breakfast food for the two of them.

"So…" Harry said leadingly once they had settled in with their respective food and drinks, unsure of how to begin.

"Alright, so-" Blaise hesitated and glanced nervously at Harry before saying hesitantly. "-Omertá?"

Harry smiled softly even as a fierce twinge flared up in his chest. 'Xanxus'. "Vindice."

Blaise relaxed and gave Harry a startlingly brilliant smile. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that!" Blaise's visage grew haunted as he seemed to hunch in on himself a bit, looking down at his clasped hands darkly. "I had thought that I was al-I thought it was just me who was different." The statement ended in a hollowly bitter tone that was achingly familiar to Harry.

("I'm Harry. Just Harry.")

Harry smiled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie and kinship with the other teen. "Storm Flames, with a Sun secondary, you?"

"Cloud Flames." Blaise said wryly, seeming pleased when Harry just grinned good-naturedly at him. After a moment the Slytherin teen took on a cautiously excited countenance before he continued in a rather upbeat tone of voice. "My Grandfather on my Papá's side is half of a set of twins. Grandfather was born with magic but his twin brother was not- it's actually pretty common in the magical world for that to happen. You see, a woman's uterus can only incubate so much magic within her during gestation. In the case of twins if the magic levels of her children threaten her own life her magic will rip the magic potential from one and siphon it off to the other, leaving the now magic-less twin to 'ground' the other's magic and stabilize them. It is part of what make magical twins so unique, as they tend to have sympathetic or complimentary magic. Not to say they always get along or anything, but their magic is rather unique. Some magical twins can even share magic, regardless of the space between them."

Harry was giving Blaise an amazed look. "How do you know this?" He asked interestedly.

Blaise ducked his head a little in embarrassment. "Sorry. I spent a lot of time with my grand-uncle and Grandfather when I was younger and so they explained it to me when I asked."

Harry fluttered his hands around in distress, trying to make up for embarrassing his- tentatively- new friend. "Don't be embarrassed! I like your explanations! I learn new things but you don't make me feel stupid for not knowing, please don't be embarrassed!"

Blaise peered at Harry through his dark bangs. "Everyone always tells me to shut up. Even ones who don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, they're idiots." Harry responded shortly, huffing and leaning back as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You present information clearly and like I said, you don't make me feel like an idiot for already knowing, so feel free to enlighten me whenever you wish."

The other let out a rich laugh as he relaxed and sprawled a bit on the couch, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves as he did so. "You have no idea what you've just opened yourself up to, Adi!"

Harry grinned impishly. "Try me." He challenged as he, too, squirmed around as he tried to get more comfortable.

"Anyways, like I was saying, my Grandfather was born with magic, but my grand-uncle- Zio Tito- was born a 'squib'." Blaise continued once they were both more comfortable. "Actually, as a grounding twin he can't even use Runes or potions, he's entirely nonmagical. Despite this fact they have always been incredibly close, refusing to let magic come between them, staying in contact against the family's wishes. Zio Tito eventually awakened the Dying Will Flames and became a Guardian to a Sky who is the Boss of a Famiglia."

"Whoa! Does he have a good Sky?" Harry asked interestedly, having heard all about Skies who let their power go to their head from Xanxus.

{Not everyone who has power can wield it properly. There are lots of shitty fucking people in the world and giving them power only makes them shittier, shitty brat. If everyone who had fucking Flames was a good guy there would be no need for the Varia- and not all of our targets are Flame Actives, either. Yeah, Flame Activation can enhance certain fucking personality traits but that can be moderated if you try- you have to want to fucking control your power, though. Not everyone wants to; they get drunk off of it and let it fucking rule them. Those fucking trash usually end up either on the Varia Watch List or as targets. There's balance to fucking everything, shitty brat, never forget that. No matter if it is Flames or magic or fucking good old fashioned brute force, there is balance in absolutely everything. Look at the Primordials and the Titans- each group thought they were invincible, but they eventually fell to their own fucking hubris.}

"Zio Tito has always had good things to say about his Boss, even though he doesn't always agree with the actions of the Famiglia." Blaise explained eagerly, his eyes bright with admiration as he talked about his dearly loved Zio. "He says that his Boss and the Boss before him have slowly begun changing the way the Famiglia operates. There is still a long ways to go, of course, but the mafia world is much like the magical one in that- well, you know the sayings, 'Power without purpose is meaningless.' And 'Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupt absolutely.'?"

"Yes, we learned about the man who made the second quote in Primary." Harry said interestedly, thinking back to one of the many history lessons he had had in Primary and had reinforced by Xanxus' freakish academic standards. "He was a…..Baron or something?"

"John Dalberg-Acton, 1st Baron Acton." Blaise supplied promptly, waving a hand about negligently as he continued. "It is actually a neat summary of my family's general thoughts on power, but anyways, the mafia world and the magical world have power that regular people- the majority of the world- can't access, so when they go bad- they go bad. There's really no limit to the depravity that they can stoop to, people without supernatural gifts can be depraved enough, but when you add in supernatural gifts on top of being a depraved, reprobate individual- well, it can make horrifying look almost normal."

Harry was utterly gob smacked. "You know, I never really thought about it that way before." He considered the information for a long moment, his brows furrowing thoughtfully before he continued in a pondering sort of tone. "I mean, it makes a twisted sort of sense. They feel like their power is limitless and they can do whatever they want with it. So they just dehumanize everyone they don't like or think are necessary, and they get away with it until someone comes along with enough power to put them down. Hubris, I think its called."

Blaise hummed in agreement before adding. "Yeah. It's also a lot easier to see when you look back on a conflict instead of being in the thick of it- like the Blood War. Both sides ended up inflicting about the same amount of casualties, but because it was a 'shadow war' and the Light 'won' most of the information that could put a bad spin of the 'victors' has miraculously disappeared."

"But-everything that I've seen says that the resistance used non-lethal means!" Harry spluttered incredulously, giving Blaise a wide-eyed, nearly desperate look. That statement challenged everything he knew about the Blood War, dammit!

Blaise's lips thinned as he scowled and leaned forward a bit. "Listen, Adi, non-lethal doesn't always mean better. My Papá-" Blaise's voice faltered for a moment before he stubbornly continued on, determined to say his piece. "-my Papá was hit with a Stupefy when the Order of the Phoenix- that was the name of the group that opposed the Dark Lord- attacked one of the Dark Lord's supply warehouses. This sounds like a nice thing for them to do instead of killing him outright, right?"

Harry nodded, somewhat confused. It was better than just killing everyone you came across who did not think like you, right?

Blaise sneered, but Harry could tell that it wasn't aimed at him. "Papá went down near the backdoor, where the Order entered from, and he'd put up a hell of a fight before he went down. At some point, one of the Order members banished something into the path of another Order member's spell. Banishment spells are proportional to the size of the object, and the spell that it intersected was an amplification spell- like an Engorgio charm- when the spells collided their stability collapsed and the concussive force brought down the building. The other Death Eaters- they were the Dark Lord's followers, if you hadn't guessed- thought that my Papá had been crushed so they left, and it was only when they sifted through the rubble a week later that they realized what had happened.

"Stupefy is a spell that literally puts the body in suspension of time and space temporarily, but it doesn't stop time and apace from affecting the body." Blaise's voice grew thick with emotion and his usually tamed accent slipped through his usual control, but he pressed onward despite that. "So while the Stupefy held, my Papá was experiencing being crushed to death, but his body was being held in suspension so it couldn't send out substances to relieve pain, or allow him to bleed out or anything. The Healers said that it took six hours for the spell to wear off and allow Papá to die."

Harry looked sickened even as his eyes betrayed his horror. An excruciatingly slow death due to a nonlethal spell keeping him in suspension? "And we're taught that Voldemort was cruel?" He asked incredulously.

"To the victors go the spoils." Blaise taunted bitterly, his eyes dark with loss, grief, and pure, unadulterated fury at the injustice of it all. "Including how future generations see the losing side. I'm not saying that I'm angry that the Dark Lord lost, I'm just saying that there is no such thing as pure black or pure white. Not pure evil or pure light, just people, their decisions, and the fallout."

"Still." Harry said uncomfortably, shifting slightly as he tried to reconcile his feelings towards the information and what it did to his worldview.

"Don't." Blaise huffed after a moment of highly uncomfortable almost-silence.

"W-what?"

"It's written all over that stupid Gryffindor look on your face- you have nothing to apologize for, that's not why I told you. I just wanted you to see that all that glitters isn't gold."

"What are you, a fortune cookie?" Harry asked with a wan smile, looking up at the other and trying to compartmentalize his feelings.

Talk about walking a mile in someone else's shoes!

Blaise snorted melodramatically, affecting a haughty sort of look- rather easily done given his rather aristocratic looks. "Please. As if I would grace nonmagicals with my great and terrible wisdom."

Harry burst out laughing, prompting Blaise to do so as well.

"So, how do you know so much about nonmagicals if you're a pureblood- a pureblood Slytherin, in fact." Harry asked once their laughter had subsided. "I mean you were talking about 'blood traitors' so I…" Harry trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask.

Fortunately, Blaise seemed to understand and explained without any additional awkward prompting. "I'm different from the 'blood traitors' in that I don't think that magicals and nonmagicals are exactly the same, just with different skillsets. I don't think that there will come a time when we can all live together freely, like the popular Light propaganda espouses. People fear what they don't understand, but in our cases even understanding would not bring about an idyllic existence. They would love us when we could help them, accuse us when we couldn't, and sooner or later resentment that we can perform feats that they cannot would spill over and we would once again be hunted for the power that we wield."

Harry wanted to argue, really he did, but Blaise's words rang true.

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, as Blaise helped himself to a bit more of the basket of food that Harry had brought while Harry mulled over Blaise's words. That was exactly what would happen with people like the Dursleys. "I think….I get it." He said a length, the words tentative and sour on his tongue. "The people I grew up with hated magic, and thusly, hated me, but they even hated other nonmagicals for a variety of reasons. I'm not saying that everyone would react that way- because I think that there are a lot of good people in the world!- but I'm saying that it would only take a handful of people like my relatives to cause exactly that kind of unrest."

Blaise nodded in appreciation, thankful that Harry Potter was reasonable enough to see an issue like this from another perspective, he was glad to finally be able to talk to someone his age and have them listen. Potter even had Flames! "Zio Tito is an exceptional Guardian and he uses his Flames to protect his Famiglia. But he is also aware that if the power of the Dying Will Flames were made known to the greater population there would be all manner of those who would seek to use him and people like him as nothing more than harbingers of war- and if governments or special interests couldn't control them, they would be hunted just as magicals were in the Witch Hunts."

Harry nodded grimly, sick that he could understand the logic of the statement. "I could easily see that happening as well."

"Mm." Blaise hummed agreeably before he steered the topic back towards lighter things. "But, anyways, before I went off on my tangent-"

Harry groaned miserably, covering his face with his hands as he imagined Xanxus' reaction to such a statement. "Please don't say that!" He groaned piteously. "Xa-I mean, my mentor knows way too much math and I've almost developed a phobia!"

Blaise grinned, dark eyes gleaming as he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, now you must share this delicious story, dear Mr. Potter!"

"You Slytherins and your blackmail!" Harry huffed in amusement as he sat back and gave Blaise a cheeky grin.

"More like, we're easily bored and Gryffindors entertain us so incredibly well. Now stop trying to stall!" Blaise demanded with a grin.

Harry put his head in his hands and told him about the 'etiquette lessons' that he'd been forced into and how he'd made the mistake of complaining about feeling like a 'Draco Malfoy-esque ponce'. Then he detailed how his tutor had taken offence to such a statement and made him do an excessive amount of mathematic worksheets until Harry thought his brain was going to leak out of his ears.

Blaise fell off the couch at one point, he laughed so hard.

They whiled away the rest of the day with light conversation and some experimentation with their Flames- mostly they just exchanged control exercises that their respective mentors had taught them. Yet the focus the exercises required- and just being around Blaise and having someone to talk to- allowed Harry to push the thought that Xanxus had cut him off from everyone but Squalo to the back of his mind.

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Harry and Blaise parted ways just before curfew. It took a bit of patience, but Harry managed to clamber through the entrance to the Common Room behind a gaggle of Fourth Year students while under his Invisibility Cloak. It was after he drifted towards the edges of the room- near the fireplace- that he overheard Ron and Hermione talking.

"-haven't been able to catch up to him." Hermione was saying in a distressed tone, sitting in what used to be their corner of the Common Room, on the couch nearest to the fireplace. Her large book was opened up about halfway but she was focusing all of her attention on Ron.

"I couldn't find him on the train either." Ron admitted to her, his lanky form seated at the low coffee table, his books and notes spread out before him. "The twins are keeping an eye out for him too. Even Percy's been trying to catch him! We wanted to apologize to him for the way we acted last year- and Bill gave me a right earful when he heard about how I treated him when we went down to rescue Ginny. We tried to owl him this summer, but the owls would just fly in a circle and then land. Bill says that's what happens when someone has an owl ward in place. He said that there were probably certain conditions- like Harry considering us his friends- that allowed us to send him letters before, but now…..well-"

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth and released a distressed whimper as her book teetered precariously on her lap. "I-I tried to owl him this summer too." She confessed mournfully. "I e-even tried to find his address in the Directory, but no matter how much I tried his family's names stayed just out of my reach- like having a word on the tip of your tongue but not being able to say it!"

Ron grimaced, looking desolate and frustrated. "It's gotta be the Wards. We have to talk to him, Hermione. We have to let him know we're sorry, Hermione. The twins tried to charm his bed curtains to do just about anything- hold him still, yell when he leaves to make the dorm up- anything. But they said their spells don't stick, they just slide off. They can change the colors of the hangings and stuff, but anything more than that just…..doesn't stick."

"What kind of charm would do that?" Hermione asked, swiping at her eyes and looking interested, despite herself.

"They can't figure it out."

Harry ghosted away from the conversation, mentally sending a thank-you to the Founders for charming the beds to be personalized. He thanked his lucky stars when he found the dorm room empty. He quickly completed his nightly ablutions and slipped into bed, charming his curtains from rote. 'I'm glad that you've seen that's I'm not evil incarnate'. He thought somewhat vindictively as he remembered last Christmas and the nearly physical ache he had felt at being all alone, with the weight of what felt like the entire Wizarding World pressing down against him. Harry was grateful beyond words for Xanxus and the man's guidance, but Harry had still had to walk the halls alone, with only the drab grey walls for comfort as everyone watched him for the slightest sign of being 'evil' or 'dark'.

Hermione and Ron might not have been even near the worst of the offenders, but their silence and passivity had done more harm than any physical blow Harry had ever experienced. Harry knew he probably wasn't being entirely fair, but the ache that their indifference had left behind was a raw wound that seemed to extend down into his very soul.

Harry just….he couldn't justify reaching out and trying to make things right again, not when he had already changed so much from the docile little follower that he had been. He worked towards his freedom- from the Dursleys, from unwanted fame, from being the sideshow freak- every day. Honestly, Harry did not think that either Ron or Hermione could possibly understand how he was willing to trade everything he had- fame, wealth, education opportunities- for a shot at a life he controlled. That he chose.

Especially not when his 'freedom' was a life among assassins and Mafia giants.

Harry clenched his teeth and girded his resolve. 'But you chose your path and I've chosen mine. I doubt that you'd stay true once you found out the truth anyways. Maybe someday when you've learned that the world isn't black and white, but for now….I just can't take the chance that you'll bail on me again when I need you'

Harry realized that the earlier feeling of contentment from hanging out with Blaise had dissipated. Resolutely pushing aside his maudlin thoughts, he reached for his phone as he decided to update Lussuria on his day of earth-shattering revelations.

Even if the man wouldn't be able to reply.

'Xanxus…have you given up on me?' Harry wondered as he settled in for another night of restless sleep.

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Harry spent the next few weeks dodging people who had hated him for the most part of the last school year but suddenly seemed to have a pressing, urgent need to have a conversation with him.

He complained bitterly about it to Blaise when they met up in the Room- which happened nearly every night as they could call up Hogwarts Library and study in gloriously undisturbed peace. They still didn't do much more than nod to each other in the halls and classes, as neither wanted to deal with their housemates being even more troublesome than they already were.

Blaise had an easier time of it, having established a habit of being a loner long before he came to Hogwarts. Harry, on the other hand, was being dogged quite persistently. The boys had already found five separate ways to head to the room, having come close to being caught by the Weasley twins far too many times for their mental wellbeing.

Or the sanctity of their sanctuary.

Fortunately, the twins- who were by far the more accurate of Harry's stalkers- couldn't devote all their time to stalking the poor Third Year as this was their OWL year. So, as classes picked up people had much less time to devote to 'Harry Stalking', which pleased him immensely.

Then, of course, there were classes themselves.

Harry had snapped up Neville Longbottom as his Herbology and Divination partner. Blaise, the little scheming snake that he was, managed to force a set of circumstances in Potions that resulted in them being partnered, much to their 'dismay'. The other classes really didn't do partnered projects, so he was in the clear there.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had, for once, been amazing, but Harry was secretly glad that he hadn't had to face the Boggart. He most emphatically did not want to explain why his greatest fear was mostly likely failing the mentor that the Hogwarts population didn't even know existed. And while the practical class was fun and informative Harry had no desire to give away potential weaknesses for people to exploit later on down the line.

Also, Harry caught the fleeting looks that the Professor sent towards him sometimes and it made him wary of the man, nice as he seemed.

Harry and Blaise had both noticed Granger taking an exorbitant amount of classes and were wondering how she was taking them all, but neither felt particularly inclined to investigate.

One would think that Harry would get caught at meals in the Great Hall, but the only meals that required attendance were the Opening and Leaving Feasts- and Harry had been in the Infirmary for the Opening Feast- and the teachers were generally too frazzled and overworked to notice a single student.

So Harry and Blaise mostly grabbed baskets from the House Elves and ate a various places around the castle or the castle's grounds.

It was three weeks into the school year, and just after the tryouts for Quidditch had been posted on the board in the Common Room, that Harry reluctantly sent his first message to Squalo. Oh, Harry had sent mini-novels to Lussuria every other day, but he hadn't yet reached out to Squalo, who was the only one allowed to answer him.

It wasn't that he didn't like Squalo- he just didn't know him. Oh, sure, Xanxus had talked about his men enough for Harry to write dissertations on them. He also knew that his prickly mentor trusted Squalo to watch his back- which was a phenomenal statement for the man to make- but Harry just felt weird messaging someone he didn't personally know for advice.

―SB―Hi Mr. Superbi, it's Harry. I was thinking about whether or not I should play Quidditch this year? I mean, on the one hand the team Captain is obsessed and makes us practice a lot which is good for fitness, but the time crunch makes it bad for studying as far ahead as Xanxus wants me to be. Also, the Quidditch team offers me some protection from the masses, but like I said it takes up a lot of time. Do you have any ideas on teamwork stuff for Blaise and I? We've been hanging out, studying, talking, and working on our Flames, but we're not sure what else to do. Thank you.―

Harry felt like a complete dork and decided to remedy it by messaging Lussuria and telling the man about how hard Harry failed at interpersonal communications.

The next morning he had a reply from Squalo.

―SS―VOI! Who the hell are you calling 'Mr. Superbi', kitty? Squalo, kitty, Squalo. As for your team, I'd say go for it, we know that the earliest that you can take those shitty tests are the end of your Fourth Year, so you might as well stick with it or it will end up causing you to draw attention to yourself. Teamwork, well, you can try fighting with your arms and legs tied together or being tied together back to back. I can think of a thousand exercises, but I would have to be there to oversee them. Mostly, figure out if you can trust the other, trust it the most basic element for any working relationship. Remember that I am your source, kitty.―

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That was pretty much the summary for the rest of the semester.

Class, homework, conversation, hiding from their ever-creative stalkers- it summed up their lives fairly nicely.

Blaise and Harry trained in teamwork as best they could, but there was one incident that caused them to almost break. It was pretty simple, looking back, they had gotten careless in their interactions and their respective housemates had taken offense to their friendship. Separately, but in the same time frame, their housemates tried to foster distrust and jealousy between the two boys- in the end, it was a close thing, but they managed to talk through the misdirection and sabotage and came up with their promise.

It brought about an Incumbent Vow- because part of the misdirection had made Blaise and Harry, respectively, think the other had blabbed about Flames. It would not only have been a breach or Omertá if the Mafia had been mentioned, but soul magic was viewed as the darkest of the Dark Arts.

Even just rumors could have gotten them Kissed, if the right people had heard and raised hell over it.

Blaise from being from a 'Dark' family and Harry because of lingering fear from Second Year's disinformation about being able to speak to snakes- Parseltongue.

In the aftermath of the incident, when everything had been aired out and addressed they made a Vow. Well, it was more of a promise really, but the words were meant to reinforce the intent of the magic. Because Blaise and Harry were playing a dangerous game and they could not afford to fall into the same trappings as their peers. They would make mistakes, of course, but they could not afford to be truly juvenile as most of their peers could. Neither teen had that sort of a margin of error- not if they wished to be free and make their own way in the world.

They just could not afford to be childish or petty or immature. They had goals and their best chance of reaching hem was together- as brothers, comrades, and friends.

So, towards that end they made their promise- their oath.

"Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere."

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['Until the Flame of my soul withers to ash.']

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Blaise and Harry stood in the foyer of the Varia Manor, their duffel bags at their feet.

They had gone straight from the Express to the airport and been flown to Italy. At the airport they'd been met by a man- who Harry mentally tagged as Varia, due to his uniform- holding a sign and been driven to this rather striking estate in a car with windows too dark to see out of.

They were both nervous balls of energy.

The two teens had barely stepped onto the elegant wrap-around porch when they had been forced to unshrink their trunks. Each teen had been handed a plain looking duffel bag and told that they had two minutes to pack everything that they would need for the hols before the trunks would be locked and stowed.

Despite their hustle Blaise and Harry had barely made the time limit with their basic necessities intact.

They had handed over their wands to the stone-faced Varia members reluctantly, but quickly. Harry had noted that the members had small weathervanes embroidered on their Varia uniform- on the cuff of the wrist, on the collar- which meant they were WEATHER Squadron members. Squalo had informed Harry about the Squad- apparently the Varia had always had such a thing, but since Xanxus did not have magic they had been under the command of Esper Mammon.

At least until Xanxus had been unthawed with the knowledge of magic and took control of things properly. According to Squalo, Esper had known of magic but did not possess it- nor was he particularly concerned about it- so many things were happening within the super-secret Varia squadron.

Harry was broken out of his meandering, uneasy thoughts when he and Blaise were ordered to pick up their bags and enter the house. Harry shared a quick, nervous glance with Blaise, took a deep breath, and- after accepting the laminated security card from the Varia member holding open the front door- stepped inside.

Xanxus and the rest of his elite Officers stood opposite them. The teens stood shoulder-to-shoulder but absolutely still, their heads bowed in submission and their eyes averted, as something primal inside them shrieked that they were prey standing in front of dangerous predators.

Later Harry would recall how strange it was that they- himself and Blaise, Xanxus and his Officers, and the escorting WEATHER Varia members- were the only ones in the receiving area. Even the balconies and side rooms had not held any observers.

The house- well, mansion- itself was warm, despite being the abode of ruthless assassins. The rather chaotic seeming blending of the colors was strangely satisfying. There was art on the high ceilings- though it was difficult to see properly from their current vantage point- and several stout, floor-to-ceiling pillars with texturing on them. There was a mirrored set of staircases that split off into various halls- the place seemed to be at least four stories from the outside and with Mists, anything was possible. The scent of food was heavy in the air but there was an undercurrent of something sharper beneath the pleasant aroma. Not quite bleach or lemon-scented household cleaner- or even wood polish- but Harry could not quite place the tertiary scents before Xanxus spoke.

"Alright, trash," Xanxus' deep voice seemed to fill the entire room with an even more oppressive aura. "You have two weeks to train before you'll be taking the Trials. The shitty brat is with the shitty shark and pretty trash is with His-fucking-Highness. You either fucking do or you fucking die. There's no going fucking back, no fucking second chances. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." The two teens chorused apprehensively.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Squalo could usually see through Xanxus' plans.

Squalo knew his Boss was a special kind of ruthless. Xanxus had always been that way, even when they were kids.

Squalo had always been able to read Xanxus, though- had always been able to look at things a little sideways and backwards and see what Xanxus was actually trying to accomplish. Xanxus had kindness and compassion both- if you knew how to see it- but seeing as Xanxus' rage blazed like an all-consuming inferno, it was difficult to see. Honestly most never tried. But Squalo knew that Xanxus never did anything important without a reason, even if most of the people in their world could not understand what those reasons were.

But Squalo had always been able to see and understand- and that was why Squalo had sworn himself to the man. Even after finding out about Xanxus being adopted and being ineligible for the Vongola Decimo seat. Xanxus was Xanxus- and that was enough for Squalo.

When he'd come into his office that day in May and reflexively dodged the wineglass that had been chucked at his head, he had noticed that Xanxus had changed even before the man had opened his mouth.

When the man had demanded that they acquire some shitty drill company to repay some brat, Squalo and the rest of the Varia had vowed to kill the little shit that had caused their damn Boss to feel obligated. Xanxus of the Varia had never bowed his head to anyone, and now they had to take over a whole fucking company just to make the kid feel comfortable?

Then Luss had called- a week after being alone with the brat and while Xanxus had been out- and told them that, no, the Boss hadn't gone spineless. Luss had explained that while the brat was rough around the edges and from a supposedly civilian background, he was worth the effort it would take to shape him. Luss had suspected that the kid had been born with the potential to awaken as a Sky, but had suffered a type of Flame Rejection and that was why he'd survived the so-called 'killing curse'.

Then the brat had found that dog bastard and Xanxus had yanked Squalo and Mammon from their duties to go save the brat from his own fucking stupidity. Squalo had been fully prepared to go against Xanxus' orders and just kill the little shit.

Seeing the kitty and the Boss interact had been eye-opening, however, but it was the fight that he'd had with the kid that made him finally see what Xanxus saw in the brat.

Squalo had nearly cut off his other arm when he finally was able to see the bigger picture. Dammit, he was the Sword Emperor and Varia Head Strategist! Bigger picture and catching details others missed was what he did!

The brat hadn't tamed their Boss the little shit had tempered him.

Like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place, Squalo could suddenly understand how Xanxus had come to appreciate the brat. The kid didn't give up in that way that only natural survivors can manage- that effortless kind of survival instinct that makes them seem borderline suicidal in battle and deceptively harmless outside of it.

Squalo, at that point, had known that the kid would be one hell of an asset when the time came, but they'd need to tread carefully or they would have another Bel on their hands.

Brilliant, ruthless, and indispensable- the Storm Officer was still on the not-fun side of psychotic more often than Squalo felt strictly comfortable with. Bel got more stable as he aged, but not nearly fast enough to save Squalo's abused nerves.

This was why Squalo had been blindsided by how Xanxus chose to take the news that the kid had used his Flames to fry a Deme-thingy in front of Nono's Cloud Guardian's great-nephew. Xanxus had put the kid on communication blackout, basically. Oh, the kid had sent messages to Luss for the rest of the school term, but Luss had been unable to reply due to the Boss's orders. Squalo was the kid's contact, but there wasn't a sense of camaraderie there, so the kid had only sent him a few updates to pass on to Xanxus. Squalo had sent information- some background about WEATHER Squadron and such, but the kid never picked up the scraps and pursued them.

The brat already had trust issues and Xanxus had purposefully cut the brat off from the only person he trusted- Xanxus himself.

The brat hadn't even asked him about his shitty Godfather.

Sirius Black had originally been slated to be used and disposed of- they'd nabbed that Pettigrew fucker just to get a second opinion- but Black had proved to be useful. Once he'd recovered enough of his mental equilibrium to be able to string more than two thoughts together Black had quickly realized the situation that he was in and immediately moved to make himself indispensable- as an information broker. None of the Varia trusted the man, but they were slightly more inclined to keep him alive at this point. As of the beginning of the week he was allowed to leave the Manor to go gather information without having a constant watch now that he'd brought back information that had helped the Varia come out ahead in several sticky situations.

The point was, Squalo could have told the brat about all of that but the brat had not even roundabout asked. Most likely because he had no solid reason to trust Squalo. Now, Squalo had two weeks to whip the brat into shape or he was going to die in the Trials.

The fact that Squalo and Bel were told to use the rooms that were usually used for death fights with prisoners or 'guests' of the Varia just made it worse. If you weren't logged as an accepted user by the Flame signature reader, the Mist and tech altered stone of the room made you forget that you had Flames. The rooms were specifically designed to make unregistered users feel cornered, trapped, and desperate.

And Squalo was supposed to take the kitty into that room and break him- with less than two weeks to rebuild him.

What the fuck was Xanxus thinking?

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Harry and Blaise were shown the rather plain room they would be sharing. It had two beds, a small bathroom, and was generally basic. Their escort- the same one that had met them at the airport- left after ordering them to make themselves comfortable and that their respective trainers would be by to pick them up soon.

"Blaise?" Harry called out hesitantly, standing at the end of the bed that he had set down his duffel on and claimed as 'his'.

"Hmmm?" The other murmured from the other side of the room.

"You know that you're my friend, right? My only one." Harry looked over at Blaise- his only friend, his brother. Willing Blaise to see his sincerity Harry pressed forward, through the ice settling in his chest. "It's just-I mean- my intuition is shrieking, telling me that something is going happen- something bad, and it could tear us apart, and if-if that happens we're going to d-die." Harry squeezed his eyes shut and glanced away from the other.

Blaise finally glanced over at the smaller teenager, noting how the emerald eyes of his friend were unguarded in a way that Blaise had never seen, not really. Harry always had his guard up- because they never knew when someone could be eavesdropping, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike out against them. They had had more than a close few calls, especially with the ever-persistent Weasley twins over the last few months. The older boy walked over and pulled the younger into a loose embrace. "Fino alla fiamma del mio garrese anima alle ceneri, yeah?"

Harry gripped Blaise tighter and repeated their oath, pouring all of his conviction into the words. "Fino alla fiamma del mio garrese anima alle ceneri."

The door slammed open and the two broke apart, immediately settling shoulder to shoulder, muscles loose and ready.

"Ushishishi, the Prince approves for now, peasants. You." The creepily Cheshire-grinning blonde haired teen standing in the doorway gestured condescendingly towards Blaise. "The Prince has much to teach you, peasant. You had best learn quickly or I shall slice you to ribbons."

"VOI! Kitty you're with me! We don't have any time to waste!" The white-haired swordsman called, turning and striding from the room without another word.

Blaise and Harry exchanged final glances out of the corners of their eyes and hardened their resolves.

'We won't die here. We won't let our Flames turn to ash just yet'

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There were actually four entirely separate underground sections on all Varia owned properties- the dungeons, the armory, the training grounds, and the personal quarters granted to privileged high-ranking members.

Squalo and Bel explained this as the two trainers led them to the elevator that would take them to the training grounds. Once the elevator door opened on the training level, Bel and Blaise split off to go left while Squalo and Harry went right.

They ended up in a fair sized but otherwise empty room made of drab grey stone. Harry didn't like it- he felt cold all the way to his bones and his intuition had gone eerily, abruptly silent.

"VOI! Alright kitty, strip down to your underwear and do it fast." Squalo ordered from his place in the middle of the room, a bright splash of color in an otherwise desolate space.

Harry gave Squalo a horrified, slack-jawed look. "But why-ah!"

Squalo's sword had flashed and cut through Harry's shirt, also leaving a thin cut along his torso. "Now, kitty." He ordered sternly.

Harry quickly obeyed.

When he was standing in just his boxers in front of Squalo in the middle of the forbidding looking room Harry realized just how outclassed he was-he did not even have his wand or Invisibility Cloak.

"VOI! Eyes up front kitty! I've only got two weeks to teach you how to fight and survive before the Trial, so we don't have time for arguments, discussions, or protests. Understood?"

Harry nodded hesitantly, shuffling a bit and rubbing his arms as he tried to get some warmth back into his limbs.

Squalo must have been satisfied with Harry's nod because he pulled out a dagger and tossed it at Harry- who yelped and just managed to catch it without causing himself severe bodily injury. "You've been doing the exercises that Xanxus taught you?"

"Yes, sir." Harry managed, his teeth chattering as the cold settled deeper inside his bones. He was not even sure he still had bones; actually, they might just be icicles by this point.

"VOI! Alright then, let's see if you can think on your feet." Suddenly Squalo was hurtling towards Harry in a blur of motion and Harry just barely managed to block and spin away before the man was on him again.

Time blurred and fell away, it was only a haze of dodging, blocking, and running as Squalo danced around him effortlessly. There was no way for Harry to launch a counter attack, no means of escape, nothing to be a barrier between Squalo's weapon and his body. Cuts appeared- some shallow, some deep- and his feet stung as the tender flesh was abused by the rough stone floor. Rashes and abrasions from contact with the wall or the floor littered his flesh, adding to the amount of pain he was in and adding more blood to the canvas of his pale skin.

Harry was woozy from blood loss- his feet were burning, his muscles screaming, and his lungs overtaxed- so it was inevitable that eventually he tripped and was forced to allow Squalo to knock away his weapon in order to control his fall.

Squalo didn't even pause.

Harry rolled and ducked, but Squalo kept him far away from where his weapon had fallen. Eventually Harry's back was against the rough, unforgiving wall as Squalo's weapon came down without an ounce of hesitation.

Harry screamed in agony when Squalo's sword bit cruelly into his torso, blazing a line of white-hot agony from his right shoulder to just below his rib cage. 'I'm going to die.' Harry thought dazedly through the pain- mental, emotional, and physical- and the not inconsiderable amount blood loss from his wounds. 'I'm going to die here and the only person who will mourn me will be Blaise. Wait. My Flames-why-why haven't I used my Flames?'

As if they had been patiently waiting for him to remember them, Harry felt a familiar surge of warmth burning a relentless path through his veins. His Flames eased his pain alleviated his fuzziness- how had been able to think through that fog his head had been in?- as his intuition snapped back into place. 'That's right, I felt cold as soon as I walked in here.' Harry thought as his limbs regained proper feeling, even though his chest felt as if it were on fire- no pun intended. 'Why didn't I remember that before?'

Harry's vision was a blur of color, but he managed to grab the wrist of the hand that held Squalo's sword and toss the other man to the side. He desperately sprinted across the room to his weapon and brought it to bear just in time to block another strike. Harry's intuition was helping him dodge more efficiently and he started to just let his body follow what it told him instead of thinking about everything first. Amazingly he seemed to be keeping up a little better now- as if Squalo had gotten just a tiny bit slower.

But Harry's second wind and his Flames could only help carry him so far when he'd already lost so much blood and had such a serious injury. So it wasn't very long before he stumbled and Squalo put him on his back with the tip of his sword to his throat. Harry's last thought before falling into the darkness was- 'If I live, I'm never passing out after a fight- not ever again. This shit is embarrassing.'

"Not bad, kitty." Squalo murmured approvingly from above him as the Varia Rain swiftly moved across the room and opened the door, allowing an anxious Lussuria inside.

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Harry drifted around the edges of wakefulness. Not quite asleep, but not quite able to open his eyes either. There were buzzing sounds just beyond the warm cocoon of rest. Voices?

'Why do they sound so far away?'

-going to scar, but it shouldn't impair his movements."

'Lussuria? I've missed you! Did you not miss me? You didn't even smile at me when I saw you earlier.'

"Good–fucking remember-Flames."

'Xanxus! Xanxus why did you cut me out? Was I that much of a burden? Is that why you let Squalo almost kill me? Or was I not supposed to survive? My chest hurts and my eyes are burning, why don't you want me?'

"VOI!-that-bad!"

'Squalo! You almost killed me, bastard!'

"-sure about this, Boss? "

'That's Esper. Why is he in my dream?'

"Don't question the boss, you-"

'I don't recognize that one. I don't understand.'

A warm, calloused palm pressed against his forehead. "Sleep, shitty brat." A deep voice rumbled.

Harry drifted back into unconsciousness with a smile.

'Xanxus!'

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When Harry woke next it was full dark outside the windows, but he recognized the ceiling of the room that he and Blaise had been shown to when they had first arrived. His mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, his head ached, and his body was making a plethora of complaints known all at once.

Harry managed to struggle upright- absently noting the neatly wrapped bandages over the majority of his body- and managed to turn his head to see that Blaise was in a similar state over on his bed. Harry slowly struggled to put his leaden legs over the edge of the bed and stand, only to hiss in pain as his mutilated feet came into contact with the floor, wrapped or not. It took judicious use of various impromptu leaning posts, but he managed to make it to the bathroom, do his business and wash his hands.

Someone must have washed him at some point, because he was no longer covered in grime and he actually smelled clean. He made his way out of the bathroom and back towards his bed only to realize that his bed was on the far side of the room and his legs were literally shaking with exertion.

'Fuck that noise.' Harry thought as he climbed into bed with Blaise.

Lussuria nearly bit through his finger to keep in the squeal he wanted to release when he came across the adorable sight that the two cuddling, battered teens made. The Varia Sun was surprised that Harry had been able to move though, as Lussuria had been sure it would take at least a full night for the worst of the muscle damage to heal. 'You'll do us proud, sweetling.'

It had taken Blaise and Harry two days to recover. Two days which were spent with Squalo and Bel going over Varia Code and associated procedures for Varia missions and the penalties for failing to follow the Code. The penalties for breaking the Code mostly seemed to be death, painful death, or excruciatingly painful death.

The remaining eleven days were a blur of being beaten into the ground or being randomly attacked- usually while sleeping- and then lectured.

"VOI! Never ignore your surroundings!"

"Ushishishi, it seems the Prince must teach you peasants the proper punishments for not being aware of his Royal presence!"

Being post-lecture meant being flattened into the ground again.

The final day the two boys were told to rest and prepare themselves for the Trial. Any desire to ask about the Trials had been beaten out of them early in- the Trial was a sacred rite to the Varia. No one who had passed the Trial ever spoke of them and those who hadn't passed them- well, the dead weren't in much of a position to tell the boys anything.

They were told that someone would be there to escort them to Xanxus' office at nine in the morning and to be prepared for anything before being left to their own devices. They had been given neutral-colored Varia styled uniforms along with the weapons that they had been training with over the past two weeks to be used in the Trial- their wands were still in their trunks or wherever the Varia WEATHER operatives had stashed them.

Harry's Invisibility Cloak had been confiscated after his initial training session with Squalo and was with their trunks as well.

They were entirely cut off from any possible cheats.

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Harry and Blaise sat on 'their' bed. Well, it was actually just both of the beds that the room had been furnished with shoved together and into the far corner of the room to better defend from sneak attacks from their crazy, sadistic trainers. At any rate Blaise was trying to teach Harry how to play poker using the playing cards he had thought to grab.

Unfortunately, Blaise wasn't having much luck.

"Seriously, Adi, how can you not get this and still manage to ace those stupid worksheets that the Sadistic Bastard gives us?" The teller teen asked in exasperation.

Harry grinned impertinently at his shifty friend. "Those worksheets have actual right answers. I'm pretty sure that you're abusing your power as a teacher and changing the rules as you go."

Blaise sniffed in mock contempt, but tellingly didn't deny the accusation. "Well, then, what do you want to play?"

"Go Fish?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Go Fish? You honestly want me to play Go Fish?" Blaise gave him a disbelieving stare.

"I've never actually played before!" Harry defended himself, looking down at his hands mournfully.

"Seriously?" Blaise asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I never had anyone to play it with." Harry turned big, soulful emerald eyes to peer up at his friend.

Blaise scoffed at the obvious puppy dog eyes his friend was giving him and proclaimed. "I'm a Slytherin, and as such I am immune to guilt trips and all other forms of emotional blackmail."

"But, Blaiiiiise." Harry whined, doing his best to ramp up the amount of 'wounded puppy' in the look that he was trying to use against his friend.

"Fine, you big baby." Blaise sniffed disdainfully as he gathered up the scattered cards. "You snuggle in your sleep; I should have suspected that you would be incapable of playing a sophisticated game."

"Don't pretend that you don't love me. And it takes two to cuddle." Harry sing-songed triumphantly as he tried to do a happy dance from where he was sitting cross legged on their bed.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Blaise sniffed haughtily as he shuffled the deck.

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Blaise and Harry stood in front of Xanxus- who was seated in a throne-like chair and was flanked by the rest of the Varia Officers- awaiting orders.

The room was silent as the grave and entirely sober. There were none of the usual antics that the members usually displayed. These weren't the slightly unhinged people who made normal people feel uncomfortable at Mafia dinner parties- Harry realized with startling clarity- these were the greatest assassins the mafia world had to offer. These were men who had walked through the fire, been consumed by it, and then been reborn as Varia Quality.

"You both have come far in the past few weeks." Squalo spoke from over Xanxus' right shoulder. "And today you will receive your Trial. Pass or fail you may not ever speak of this event to anyone other than those in this room; though failure in this case will most likely result in your deaths. This task was chosen specifically for the two of you, do us proud."

"This Trial has until midnight on the twenty fourth to be completed," The Varia leader said from his relaxed position on his throne as Squalo stepped forward to solemnly hand Harry an envelope sealed in wax- the wax contained an imprint of the Varia Sky Ring, which rest on Xanxus' right hand. "That gives you almost five days and both of you must return here before the time limit expires to pass. You are to proceed directly from here to your mission. You are dismissed."

Blaise and Harry nodded sharply and departed.

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Xanxus knew that this whole plan had been a giant fucking risk.

He had also seen the glances that his men had been throwing his way the past few months- particularly the shitty shark, the homo trash, and the miser midget.

Xanxus' gut was screaming that he didn't have the luxury of time in regards to his boy and the prospective Cloud Guardian. He had planned to use this summer to train the boys and then give them a long term mission to achieve over the next school year. Hell, he had been planning on them taking the Trial the summer after- though they would not be full Varia until they passed seven of Mammon's fucking Linguistic Proficiency Tests.

No time, danger, must be prepared, notimnotimenotime- was all that his intuition would say as it curled around in his gut. It irritated him, the constant unrest of his intuition whenever he thought about his shitty brat and the long term plans. The unrest caused his already tenuous control of his temper to waver. Xanxus had always been volatile, but he had fought a brutal battle against his inner Flames to be the one in control of his Wrath, so it really pissed him the fuck off that his own intuition was working against him in the matter.

Xanxus had known that the shitty brat had trust issues- they were had to fucking miss if you cared to fucking look- but his brat had needed to realize that he could trust the people that Xanxus trusted. When Xanxus had gotten that message about his boy icing that fucking Demen-trash in front of the trash who they had been scouting as a Cloud potential, the screaming mass of his intuition had only intensified.

That was when he knew he needed to get creative, no matter how much he really did not want to rush things.

People always looked at the feathers in Xanxus' hair and saw them as a sign of savagery- and in technicality they would be correct.

Xanxus had been extremely small- two, possibly three- when he had learned that coddling would get things that you cared about killed. There had been a lake in the park that he and his mother squatting in, and the lake had hosted a few families of whitewing ducks.

Xanxus had watched- hidden behind a tree while his mother had been sleeping- as some wanna-be mafia trash had snapped the neck of the mother duck and her ducklings, leaving only a sickly one behind. The laughing, jeering scum hadn't killed the ducks for food or for their down, they just killed them because they could- it was the first time Xanxus could remember seeing people abusing animals.

Humans killing each other? Old news.

But killing animals for no reason- not food or shelter or anything useful? It had shocked him.

Xanxus had taken the sickly duckling back to his mother, and she had been lucid enough to help him care for it. He had carried it everywhere- even as it had gotten older and was nearly as big as him. The duck grew fat; contented and Xanxus had doted on it endlessly. He had kept it warm through the winter and chattered at it excitedly whenever he discovered something new.

Then, less than half a year later, his mother had gone into one of her fits. In a cramped, dirty alley behind a black-market brothel she attacked Xanxus- as she was wont to do during her rages- and his duck had tried to defend him.

His mother had killed his first friend- for he had felt more connected to that animal that he'd ever felt to any other human, even his mother- with her own two hands, despite the animal's best efforts.

It was that event that had awakened his Wrath Flames.

His mother had been shocked out of her fit by the appearance of his Flames. Upon seeing all the blood and the body of her son's duck she had smiled at him- taking a few bloodstained feathers and braiding them into his hair- and cooed about how she'd always known he was special, how proud she was of her strong boy.

It had been then- with the blood of his first ever friend coating the feathers braided into his hair- that Xanxus had realized life's most important facts.

To her the feathers had represented Xanxus' apparent cruelty, of how he had killed his own beloved pet in a fit of rage. Of how strong the boy was, to commit such a heinous act.

(People only saw what they wanted to see, no matter what the truth was. Doubly so if they were personally invested in the outcome.)

To Xanxus the feathers represented how someone he loved could only be protected if they could protect themselves. How even the people who were supposed to be the closest to him wouldn't hesitate to use his loved ones against them if he let it be known how much he cared.

(Love and desperation only stretched so far. Hide behind a veil of lies or misdirection or rage but never expose your heart, not even to those who claimed to love you.)

The feathers, while they had changed throughout the years, were the constant reminder of his resolve to not be the reason someone he cared for died. He had learned to growl, snarl, and rage in order to keep people distant, set apart from him and his true goals. He had grown cruel and terrible in his quest for power, but always, always he kept in his deepest heart the reasons why.

It was why when his intuition sparked sharply in regards to his boy, Xanxus once again hardened his heart.

Because…..

Xanxus suddenly realized that he was going to have to take drastic measures.

So, the Varia Leader had put the kid on communication lockdown, even though he'd allowed the little shit to twist the rules and continue to message Lussuria. On their end Xanxus had laid down the fucking law to Luss, and Lussuria had given him a disgustingly watery smile but he'd acknowledged the absolute order his Boss had given him. The shitty fucking shark had passed on the brat's messages- but like Xanxus had suspected, the boy hadn't trusted Squalo with even a quarter of the information that the brat had sent Lussuria, even though Squalo was the only one in the position to provide the brat any information in return.

While most people would bitch about how the brat had spent five weeks 'bonding' with Luss and had had only met Squalo once, Xanxus had spent at least six fucking months sporadically telling the brat about his men. The little shit had been told that these were the only people in the entire fucking world that Xanxus trusted to have his back, and the brat should have been able to see past his fucking emotions and ask Squalo the important fucking questions because the brat knew that Xanxus trusted Squalo.

But the brat had let his emotions and personal feelings get in the way and he had been unable to use the source of information that he'd been provided. That had only increased Xanxus' ire because if the brat truly wanted to become Varia Quality he couldn't afford to pull that shit.

If Xanxus told the brat that he trusted someone and they were to be the brat's information source, then the brat should have fucking abused the shit out of that source. End of fucking story.

So, that led him to the present. Casually sitting in an ornate, throne-like chair inside a secure room at Varia HQ waiting for the cameras that he'd had his men rig up to catch sight of the two Potentials, sipping at a glass of wine, and trying to get his intuition to shut the fuck up.

Xanxus had a plan, and if it succeeded it would be more than worth the favors, money, and risk that he had gambled on it.

If it failed though…..

'I've done what I've thought to be best for them; now they'll either put it all together and pull through or they'll die trying. One way trip, shitty brat.'

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Blaise and Harry made their way out of the Manor where a car was waiting. Varia protocol was that missions of the caliber that theirs, as indicated by the color of the sealing wax, were not to be opened until they had found a neutral, secluded place to unseal the missive.

It was a tense twenty minutes later that they were dropped off on the sidewalk of a nondescript street and left on their own.

"An alley?" Harry suggested lowly as he and Blaise moved to blend with the crowd.

Blaise hummed thoughtfully. "Not one of the shady ones. We're teenage boys so us slipping into the moderately kept ones should go mostly unnoticed. Trying to slip into a shady one might grab interest of the wrong sort."

"Pervert." Harry muttered, ducking his head and trying to hide his blush.

Blaise leered unrepentantly. "Says the guy who calls L-that guy his hero."

"I didn't call him my hero, I called him-"

Then Blaise was grabbing ahold of Harry and slipping them into an alleyway, holding himself intimately close to the other. The taller teen pressed his hands on the wall at Harry's back and tipped his head forward so that his hair was shielding Harry's face. Harry used the barrier than his friend was providing him to carefully scan their surroundings with a sharp eye.

"We're clear from the street." Harry breathed out, as they were honestly close enough to actually be kissing.

"We're clear from the back too." Blaise murmured affirmatively as they melted into the shadows of the alley in a way that only those that have spent two weeks hiding from the Varia's Bloody Prince could accomplish.

Harry had been carrying the envelope that contained their mission, having surreptitiously checked that it was still there about twice a minute since they had left the Varia Boss's office. Once he had somewhat unsteadily pulled the envelope out of his pocket they both took a moment to admire the flimsy looking vessel that would be crucial in deciding their fate.

"Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere." Harry breathed out shakily- partly as a prayer, partly as an oath- as he stared down at the envelope in his hands. His fingers absently- nervously- traced nonsensical patterns in the paper, but avoided the wax seal.

An elegant mocha colored hand covered his own, twining their fingers together as the brother of his heart forced Harry's troubled green eyes upwards. "Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere." Blaise said firmly, pressing their joined hands over Harry's heart.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, gathering all his fears, doubts, and reservations, and then-

-then he released the breath, and let them go.

Harry opened his eyes- and when had he closed them?- and cracked a wry, wobbly grin at Blaise. "Let's see what those bastards have planned for us, eh?"

Blaise's return grin was predatory.

A spark of Flames sent towards the seal caused it to dissolve in a crackle of what were quite obviously Xanxus' Wrath Flames. They pulled out the mission brief with the Proof of Action laying neatly on top, printed in elegant script on high-quality linen paper:

"By order of Xanxus of the Varia and Vongola IX,

Biagio Medici of the Estraneo Famiglia is to be executed for his crimes against the Vongola Famiglia.

Varia Mission Rating: Crimson

This is an official mission and as such this order may be presented to the Vindice as Proof of Action."

The emphasized names were imbued with Flame- much like the seal had been.

As with any mission, there were pictures of the target and any information that the Varia had felt relevant to the mission's objective.

"Crimson rating means that we have to k-kill every Estraneo that sees us." Harry muttered dully, feeling vaguely betrayed by Xanxus. Yes, Harry had killed before but it had been in self-defense!

Blaise gripped Harry's shoulders and met the younger boy's gaze squarely, "Adi, you knew that you were going to have to kill during the Trial- and Squalo and Bel told us what to expect when that happens. We can do this. We have to do this."

Harry shook himself free and centered himself internally. 'Blaise is right. I wanted this. I want to be Varia Quality someday.' "They gave us what they had on the floor plans; we need to find a point of entry." He said briskly, trying to push back the unease of his intuition and his nausea at the thought of ending another's life.

The two poured over the information that they had been provided, deciding to get some rest before proceeding to the storefront that was thought be the entrance to the Estraneo lab that their target was currently occupying. If they had learned one thing from their sadistic trainers it was to rest when you were able because you never knew when you'd be reduced to catnaps.

They made their way out of the alley and scouted a park that was reasonably close to their objective. It was late morning at that point, so they grabbed some food, took care of their needs, and headed back to the shelter the wooded area around the park provided.

"Nap, Adi, I'll take first watch."

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It took them almost two days to finalize the plan to get into the base. They had noticed the hole in the guard rotation- which was rather obvious to them, but they didn't fully realize just how much training Squalo and Bel had packed into their short training period- the first evening, but had decided to play it safe and observe a little longer.

They crept towards the weak point in the guard rotation and slipped through the camera's blind spots- Levi, they had found out from their gleefully sadistic trainers, was more than happy to rat them out so they had learned about how to avoid technology the hard way- and then they were passed the storefront and into the Estraneo stronghold.

They were surprisingly calm, falling back into the mindsets that had allowed them to survive Squalo and Bel's attacks for two weeks as they carefully slipped through the halls of the base.

They noticed a few major differences in the actual floor plan as opposed to the drawings that they had been given, but they improvised well enough to reach the corridor that indicated their target's sleeping quarters. After a quick, whispered discussion Blaise quietly crept further in- to try and ascertain if the target was in his rooms- leaving Harry to guard their backs.

It wasn't long after that that it happened.

A harried looking person wearing an Estraneo embossed lab coat burst into the side hallway and saw him. Harry saw the person see him, saw the man open his mouth and Harry just moved.

One moment he'd been sure that they were about to be discovered and killed and the next moment he had neatly cut the person's throat in a practiced motion that he had had beaten into him repeatedly over the last few weeks. The neat neck slice was part of a two-part move that first cut across the throat before coming around to stab through the junction at the base of the skull, resulting in nearly-instant death.

'Why didn't he just dodge?' Harry thought dazedly, even as his body moved to drag the recently-deceased person into his little patch of shadows. 'Squalo always moved. Why didn't-I didn't mean-why-'

{VOI! Alright kitty, when you make your first deliberate kill, you're going to go into shock. You might vomit, you might cry, but you have to keep your head. You can properly deal with it when the mission is over and you're back home. If you let that moment control you, you're done, and everything that you've done up until now will have been wasted.}

Harry vomited as quietly as he could next to the body as hot tears made their way down his face, but he pushed it all back- just like he'd done last year during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Just like Xanxus had taught him and Squalo had lectured him.

When Blaise slipped back into view a few moments later he took in the state of his friend, the body, and the pile of bile on the floor in a single glance.

Suddenly Harry was terrified that-

"He's in his room." Blaise said instead, eyes steady as he looked at Harry. "Let's finish this."

Harry nodded shakily, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeves and following Blaise into the target's room.

'One way trip.'

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"Ushishishi, the Prince is pleased, the little peasants may have been worth his time."

The elite members of the Varia were once again gathered in the secure room at Varia HQ to monitor the progression of their little fledglings. There had been a feeling of irritation building as the brats had done nothing and wasted nearly two days of their time just observing, but the way they had gotten in undetected by the Estraneo security was fairly impressive.

Xanxus was staring at the screen- once again absolutely unreadable to Squalo- while Lussuria had needed to use his Flames to regrow the fingernails that he'd gnawed off in his incessant worry at least four times already.

The part of the Trial that Squalo had been most concerned about had gone better than he had expected. Oh, he knew that the kid hadn't dealt with his first kill yet, but the way the kid had managed to pull himself together was promising. The Varia watched as the two made their way into the room where the target was resting, Bel's student dispatching the man almost effortlessly.

It was after the two boys had made their way back out that Xanxus spoke.

"Levi, raise the Estraneo's intruder alarm."

"Yes, Boss!"

'What the hell are you thinking, Xanxus?'

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They had just started making their way back out of the little side corridor when a siren blazed to life.

"Fuck!" Blaise swore as they headed deeper into the base, their way out almost instantly having been cut off by thugs that poured from the side corridors.

They ended up in the actual laboratory, and immediately any remorse they'd felt for killing their target vanished.

"Cages." Harry breathed in horror as he took in their surroundings. "They've got kids in cages."

"Well-" Blaise said mildly, looking equally as disturbed. "- we do have our orders."

Harry- who had been lost for a moment in memories of a cupboard under the stairs, and long hours of wishing for someone to free him- snapped back to reality. "Yes," He said slowly, a rather wicked looking smirk coming to life on his lips. "We do."

With that the two teens stepped out of the shadows and went to work.

They moved in tandem, as if they had been doing it all their lives. They sliced through any Estraneo members who dared to show themselves mercilessly. There was no thought or rationale, just the next opponent and covering the other's blind spots.

It was almost impossible to tell how long they had been at it. The floor was slippery with bodily fluids and the air was stale with death and they, themselves, had their fair share of injuries but they pressed on. Whenever they came across higher access cards they took a moment to open the doors to the cages as they passed, not that the children were able to do more than stare with how emaciated and-or injured they were.

However, they were still young and barely trained in the ways of battle. So it was inevitable that one of them would take a hit that would disrupt their rhythm.

Blaise took a hit to his side and in the confusion of the next few moments was pinned to the ground with a booted foot on his spine. A tall, muscular man in a lab coat pointed a wicked looking gun directly down at Blaise's head. Labcoat Thug had a few lackeys hovering around the fringes of the room- but no more than five and none of them seemed to have weapons.

"Tell me the information that I want to know and I'll let you and your little friend leave here alive." The man growled as he ground the heel of his boot into Blaise's spine, causing the other to whine in pain.

"Don't listen to him, Adi!" Blaise yelled through the pain. "Don't worry about me, just don't listen!"

"Yes, yes, that's very nice, but I can tell that someone sent you, who was it?" The man fired a shot next to Blaise's head without taking his eyes off of Harry. "Talk."

Harry's heartbeat was strangely loud. He could see the lips of the man moving, but he couldn't hear anything. He heard the crack of a gunshot, but he couldn't force himself to look away from the man's sneering visage. 'He's going to kill Blaise.' Harry thought dazedly. 'He's going to-'

No.

No.

People who wish to become Varia Quality don't give up, not even in situations like this. This is where they thrive.

"-the one who raised the alarm, you know."

Harry's sense of sound seemed to snap back into place. 'He's monologuing. I can use that.' "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The man's lips pulled back into a sneer as he repeated himself. "I said that it was your little friend's fault that the alarm was raised, he tripped on of the invisible beams. Tell me what I want to know and I'll let you go free."

Harry pretended to study Blaise, and willed his eyes to go cold and his body language to project indifference. 'Please understand what I'm doing.' "Yeah, he's can be useless like that. What do you want to know?"

Blaise went stiff with shock, before squirming desperately and screaming. "You bastard! I trusted you! How could you?! After all we've been through."

The man's expression settled into smug satisfaction and as the bastard opened his mouth to speak Harry moved.

Harry ended up cutting man's head off even as he grabbed the arm that held the gun and twisted until it broke. Harry ignored the gurgled noises coming from the newly-dead man and he continued on to the idiots that just stood there and watched, quickly finishing them off and retuning to Blaise's side.

"Blaise?" Harry called tentatively even as he cast his senses out to search for any new danger. His intuition was steady stream of warnings at the moment, so he wanted to be on guard.

"You're an complete asshole, Harry James Potter!" The other snarled curling a hand into a fist and lashing out at Harry. Harry accepted the punch to the abdomen that Blaise gave him with little more than a grunt of discomfort. When Blaise finally looked up at Harry a few minutes later Harry was horrified to see tears his friend's eyes. "I really thought-you looked so-"

Harry knelt down and grabbed Blaise by the shoulders, willing him to understand. "I had to create an opening." He said regretfully. "I'm sorry. It was the only-"

Then Blaise yanked him close and hugged him- right there in the middle of that gore infected hellhole of a lab- and whispered fiercely. "Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere. "

Harry hugged the other boy back just as fiercely. "Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere. Always, my friend." Harry sat there for a moment longer, relived that his friend understood why he had done such a shitty thing and also just luxuriating in the knowledge that they had survived such a close call. Only for a precious few moments, though, because they were still in the middle of a battlefield. So he shook himself loose and struggled to his feet. "Come on, we need to move."

Before they could go far, however, a sense of marrow chilling coldness stopped them in their tracks. There was the eerie sound of rattling chains all around them as a black rip speared in the air in front of them and three of the most feared beings in the mafia world stepped out of the jagged tear in space and time. The beings wore tattered black cloaks that moved about in an unnatural wind. They had tophats on and every single inch of their exposed skin was swathed with white bandages, giving them an even more foreboding presence.

"The Vindice." Blaise breathed, awestruck even as his knees shook in trepidation.

"On whose authority was this mission assigned?" The obvious leader demanded.

Harry quickly pulled out their Proof of Action and handed it to the one who he assumed was in charge.

The next few minutes were tense as the Vindice muttered among themselves. Eventually the letter was handed back to Harry and leader addressed Harry in a harsh, guttural voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "This seems to be in order. Be advised that if you take any of the children with you they will be considered Prisoners of War. Since neither the Varia nor Vongola have officially declared war against the Estraneo, taking Prisoners of War will put you in violation of Mafia Law. The decimation of the Estraneo is legal due to you VMR, as the Varia guidelines for missions have been ratified by the Commission and are therefore recognized by the Vindice."

Harry and Blaise exchanged a quick glance. "What can we do for them, sir? The kids, I mean. They need somewhere to go or they will just be recaptured and put back in cages like these."

"You may direct them to a nearby neutral family and provide them a map. That is the limit of your interference."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said gratefully, giving the officer a respectful bow before he stepped back to stand by Blaise.

"….you are welcome." The Vindice officer said after a moment rather incredulous silence had passed.

Then the Vindice melted back into the shadows and the lab seemed able to breathe once more.

Harry and Blaise quickly scratched out a couple of maps and left them with some of the older, more lucid children as they made their way back out of the base. The two teens were able to arrange the formerly cages children so that no one was left behind. The alarm had separated the lab section from the main base, so the children that could move stuck behind Harry and Blaise as they fought their way out. The two Hogwarts students were so far over this mission and killing that they were absolutely numb and their bodies were moving on autopilot.

When they finally made it back to the storefront, it was obvious that the sun was about to rise.

"We've only got until midnight to make it back to base." Blaise murmured to Harry as they led the kids out of a side door that led to a less frequented alley.

They still had to take out a few more people, but with the battle mostly over their injuries were starting to make themselves known and there was no way that they could walk around in broad daylight with their clothes in their current state.

"We'll slip through the alleyways, as long as we keep moving we should be able to make it back. If we crash now we'll never wake up in time to make it before the time limit is up." Harry murmured back, helping rearrange a few kids so they would be able to transport the weaker ones more expediently.

"Agreed." Blaise sighed from where he, too, was rearranging kids and limbs.

The kids watched as their saviors slipped off into the morning twilight without a backwards glance. None of them truly catching on to the fact that the two boys had freed them until long after the two teens had disappeared from sight. The older escapees quickly began herding them together and following the maps that they had been provided, trying to disappear into the city and the crowds before the Estraneo sent back up.

"Harry James Potter, hmm? Kufufufu."

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The day was mostly a blur of keeping out of sight and keeping themselves moving. If they hadn't had so much damn practice over the last few weeks, they never would have made it.

They had managed to find a small, fairly secluded stream about midday. There they had stripped out of their filthy uniforms, quickly washed themselves, and bandaged the worst of their injuries with some gauze that Blaise had had the foresight to grab. Blaise had also had the foresight to grab one of the target's wallets.

"It's not like he had any use for it anymore!" He defended himself against Harry's exasperated expression.

Their neutral toned Varia jackets were thankfully reversible so they managed to look like delinquents instead of insane asylum escapees. Not much of a distinction, but one that allowed them to catch a cab back to Varia territory instead of walking.

It was well after dark before the stumbled up the drive to the house, having been detained at the gate for nearly an hour. As it was they barely made it to the porch before their bodies gave out. So they never saw Lussuria and his minions pour out of the house and haul their battered bodies to the infirmary or saw Xanxus standing at the window of his office, his arms crossed across his chest and a fierce sort of pride on his face.

'I knew you could fucking do it, shitty brat.'

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Harry sluggishly drifted towards consciousness.

He slowly became aware enough to realize that he was scandalously comfortable, warm in a way that sent spirals of contentment through his very soul. Harry could hear voices murmuring at the edge of his awareness and very slowly started to make his metaphorical way towards them. He, with inordinate amount of effort, managed to peel open his eyelids- only to slam them back down almost instantly as his brain shrieked in pain at the light that cheerfully greeted him.

He could hear the murmurs still.

"Adi, sweetling? I turned off the lights; it's safe to try again." Lussuria's reassuring voice sounded from beside him as warm, gentle fingers began to card through his hair.

Tentatively, Harry opened his eyes again, blinking a few times to clear them, and slowly taking in the room around him. Lussuria was standing next to him, smile soft in the dim light as the man ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Xanxus was seated in one of his usual ridiculously lavish chairs just behind Luss, with Squalo leaning on the wall behind the man's position. Blaise was sitting up on Harry's right, with the Bloody Prince perched beside him on the bed, while Esper Mammon and a man he didn't recognize- but guessed was Leviathan- were leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed closest to the door.

The room itself was much like Harry's room back at the Dursley's. Actually, it almost seemed an exact replica- except this room had a huge set of French doors. The doors were open so that he could see the balcony that rested just past them and beyond the elegant balcony was the greenery of the gardens that Lussuria had told him about, but he hadn't truly had time to appreciate just yet.

As Harry took all this in he turned his head towards Blaise and their eyes met- and just like that Harry was drowning in memories of blood, fire, gore, death, and whathadhedone-

"Brat." Xanxus' voice cut through the chaos of his mind effortlessly, dragging him back to the present in an instant.

It was only then that Harry realized that he had curled in on himself, shaking and sobbing, and then there was a container in front of him as he vomited bile. Harry felt, more than felt, Blaise scoot closer, offering steady, silent support while Lussuria rubbed soothing circles on his back as the man whispered indecipherable, comforting words through his breakdown.

Eventually, Harry cried himself out and hastily wiped his mouth with the cloth that Lussuria offered him, feeling more than a little embarrassed and angry at himself that he'd been so weak in front of Xanxus and the others.

"Brat." Xanxus' voice came again, sterner. "You're thinking too fucking loudly."

Harry hesitantly peeked through his bangs at his mentor, accidently locking eyes with the man. Harry suddenly felt deeply ashamed and went to drop his gaze- but then Xanxus was there, gripping his chin in a firm grip and forcing Harry to look directly at the man.

"Look at me, shitty brat." The man ordered sternly and Harry didn't dare look away, not even when the hand fell away from his chin. "You're allowed to show us weakness- you're allowed to show me weakness when you've come back from a mission like that- you're just not allowed to fucking stay there. Cry, puke, scream- whatever you fucking need to do- but keep fucking moving forward. Don't let this your moment of weakness rule you, fucking own it and move on."

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and ordered his thoughts. Did he feel better? Yes, yes he did. Did he truly regret what he'd done? No, not particularly. He would never enjoy ending a life. It would never be something he would revel in, but he wasn't sorry for what he had done.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Xanxus, lost. "What-what if I'm not sorry for what I did? I-I mean I didn't enjoy taking lives but." He fisted his hands in the covers and allowed his head to drop, his bangs shadowing his eyes, even as leaned a little closer to Blaise. "I don't think that I'll ever enjoy ending a person's life. I- enjoyed the battle, I think. Fighting without restraint, but I didn't enjoy watching the life leave their eyes, even if they were scum." His voice cracked and his eyes went teary again, but he pushed on. "I don't regret it though. I don't regret a single life I took. What-what does that make me, Xanxus?"

"A warrior." Xanxus replied calmly. "Now that you have passed the Trial and understand what it is that we do, who we truly are, do you still wish to continue on this path? There will be no chance to back out after this-"

"No." Harry said resolutely, snapping his head up to meet Xanxus' gaze squarely, determination blazing in his eyes. "I won't back out now, not ever. I chose this path and I will see it through."

Xanxus fairly radiated smugness as he returned to his chair, and Lussuria returned from wherever he'd disappeared to- Harry hadn't seen him leave, but he guessed the other man went to empty the bile bucket- and promptly settled himself into bed with Harry. Harry immediately leaned his head on the Varia Sun's shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of having fingers run through his hair again.

"Shitty brat." Xanxus spoke up again after a few minutes of quiet. "I imagine that you're wondering why all of us are here instead of just the people you are closely acquainted with?" Xanxus received a nod, from both teens. "It's because all of us had a hand in this plan. I haven't made the decisions that I've made in these past few months lightly, and now that you've passed the test, I'm going to explain the bigger picture. Hold your fucking questions until I'm fucking finished, understood? This is going to be a long fucking story time." Xanxus gave both Harry and Blaise the gimlet eye and then settled further back in his throne-like chair, accepting a glass of wine that Squalo handed him and taking a sip before launching into his tale.

"Do you remember what I told you about Flame types? Did you tell the other trash?" Harry nodded, mentally rolling his eyes that everyone started out as trash in Xanxus' mind. "Well, thanks to information provided by Black-trash and the rat-trash, andwhat Lussuria has been able to find out- we put together a theory, but only I had all the information. We think that that Volde-trash fucker was a Sky who ripped out each individual Flame and stored them into objects to keep his soul tethered to this plane of existence. Esper or Levi could give you fucking technicalities, but basically since he had magic the fucker knew that he could make himself a fake fucking body and be 'resurrected' as long as he used one of his stored Flames to create a space for his shitty 'main soul' to be able to possess the fucking thing without causing the fake body to instantly fail."

Harry and Blaise turned faintly green, but didn't comment as Xanxus paused to take another sip of his wine before continuing. "I think that you were born with the potential of a Sky, and when that Volde-trash fucker came to kill you, whatever your fucking mother did created a magical disturbance- like I said ask Levi or Esper for the fucking mechanics- but when the 'killing curse' hit you, it tried to rip out your soul, but couldn't fully do so because of whatever your mother had fucking done- so your Flames didn't activate so much as they passively rose to help. I think that your fucking Lightning flames turned the spell backwards. Since Volde-trash was planning to rip out a Flame and store it using killing you as a catalyst, the Flame he was planning on storing ripped out anyways due to the strain of that killing curse shit not working."

Xanxus swirled his wine and stared at the ceiling. "That killing curse 'abracadabra' shit works by instantly shattering the soul's connection to the body, it literally works in the span of a second. According to Levi and Esper's research this would normally prevent the Dying Will Flames from manifesting because the soul connection to the body is instantly shattered and the soul moves on to the next plane. The magical disturbance that your mother caused fucked up the curse and gave your soul enough time to counter attack. Thus your becoming Flame Active and surviving. But your Flames were young, unstable, and thus you only awoke your Lightning Flames at first, instead of the full Sky Flame."

"This is where it gets complicated- or more complicated. Fucking shitty brat, bending the fucking rules of the fucking universe." Xanxus sighed gustily and sipped more wine. "I think that the Flame the fucker was planning on splitting split anyways- using the point where your Lightning Flames 'rebounded' the shitty curse- to try to burrow in and take over your soul and your soul responded by using whatever was left of your Lightning Flames to seal the wound to keep the main soul from following and taking over your body through the foothold the divided Flame provided."

"Your soul- knowing that it couldn't defeat the fucking parasite- acted to save you, possibly with help from whatever your mother fucking did." Xanxus rubbed at his temples before taking another long pull of his wine. After he set his glass back down he looked directly at a wide-eyed Harry and continued. "By best as we can tell, your soul used your Cloud Flames to seal the other side of the wound, wrapped the whole area with your Rain Flames, and used your Mist Flames to reinforce the seals. This left your soul out of balance, with only your Storm Flames and your Sun Flames being available and free of strain- and I imagine that your Sun Flames were trying to heal the damage to your soul.

"That shitty old geezer apparently invoked some fucking old-ass Blood Magic when he left you with the scum that did- and does, unfortunately- protect you from those who would harm you on behalf of the Volde-trash. The protections don't work on your shitty fucking so-called family members. The loophole of family being able to hurt the minor is why that shit fell out of practice ages ago. Blood Wards like the ones at the scum house were actually designed to fucking be used against people who had murdered members of their own blood. The shitty old man twisted it, but could not- or didn't- think to change the fundamental rules to keep you entirely protected."

Xanxus shook his head in disgust and continued after another pull of wine. "Anyways, your fucking soul was effectively shattered- you shouldn't have ever been able to awaken your Flames at all without your soul being in balance- but once you fought the fucking main soul at the end of your First Year at that shitty fucking school, you managed to expel the fragment of Flame the fucker left behind when you were a baby. That was step fucking one. Step fucking two was when you fought that shitty Basilisk and nearly died and that Phoenix cried on you, your Sun Flames were finally strong enough to heal your soul- and through our connection, my soul, which is why the ice I was fucking trapped in fucking shattered.

"It wasn't until Luss told me about the state of your soul and mentioned possible Flame Rejection that I got suspicious. When we got a hold of information from Black-trash and the rat-trash that we started to put all of this together. When you messaged me and told me that you iced that Deme-trash I realized that drastic measure needed to be taken. Shattered Skies heal, never wield Flames at all, or have to be eliminated."

Harry turned grey but Xanxus continued without paused. "You're a moderate type, but battle is where you truly grow. Either you would rise to the occasion and pull your soul the rest of the way together or you would have to be eliminated. Fortunately it seems that your association with the Cloud brat has helped more than it had hindered and you managed to pull yourself together."

"So you were trying to see if I was a threat." Harry spat out bitterly, once again fisting his hands in the cover and allowing his hair to shadow his eyes, pulling roughly away from Lussuria as he did so. "All this time-"

The wineglass sailed through the air and shattered against the wall behind the bed as Xanxus was once again in Harry's face, wrenching his chin up to meet the man's infuriated gaze, "I did not." Xanxus thundered dangerously. "Have my men pull triple shifts researching this shit for the last six fucking months to simply fucking assassinate you, trash. They, and I, have all worked ourselves to exhaustion in this fool's errand to see you come out of this fucking situation whole. Do I fucking make myself clear?"

Harry gulped, bitterness abruptly draining away, as he realized just how much time they'd have had to put in to piece this all together in such a short amount of time. He suddenly felt very, very small. "I'm sorry." He murmured as Xanxus stared at him for another long moment before releasing him. Lussuria instantly snatched the boy back to his previous position as Blaise gripped Harry's wrist in a silent show of comfort.

Xanxus was still standing beside the bed, arms crossed as he stared down at the boy who was meekly lying against Lussuria's shoulder. "I will overlook this just this once, because I know the toll the communication block took on you. Not to mention puberty and your soul being out of balance. But the next time I tell you someone is your trusted source of information, you fucking listen, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Xanxus nodded sharply before turning around and heading for the door. "Well, fuck this noise. It's the day after Christmas, you've got training with Squalo for the rest of your hols. Your shitty trunks are in the fucking wardrobe. We're doing Christmas Dinner- because fucking Lussuria insists- later tonight, I expect you both to be there."

Then the man left, followed by Squalo once he had reached over Lussuria to ruffle Harry's hair-"VOI! Not bad kitty!"- and Levi and Esper, with Bel only staying long enough to toss a few comments to Blaise about their training that would start the next day and then the two Hogwarts students were alone with the Varia Sun.

"How are you, sweetling?" Lussuria asked Harry seriously, tipping the boy's head up to look directly at the older man. "Boss pushed you pretty hard, but we were really hoping for you to pass, hon- and you did, beautifully, but I want to know that you're alright."

Harry blinked back tears and shifted his hand so he could twine his fingers with Blaise, feeling more even keeled and calmer with the Flames of his friend coiling gently against his palm. "I don't think that I'm alright right now, but I think I will be okay."

Lussuria smiled and cooed, "I hope so, you're my cute little brother!" Then the man turned serious. "What Xanxus didn't get to tell you before you made him mad- and don't worry, it happens all the time, it's kind of his thing; he'll be fine- is that now that your soul is back in Harmony your Flames will slowly shift back to the Sky they should have been all along. You're going to need to be extra careful when you go back to school because you'll have to learn to control your Sky Attraction."

"Sky Attraction?" Harry asked faintly.

"It's a Sky trait, Adi." Blaise finally spoke from the boy's other side, causing the attention of the room's occupants to switch to him. "It's a natural aura that a Sky exudes when they are seeking their Guardians. Guardians help ground a Sky, from what I heard from Zio Tito. They are not strictly necessary but they- ah, enhance?- a Sky's Flames help keep them grounded and focused. It's sort of like finding friends and making them family. Or it should be, anyways. There's a spiritual aspect to 'Harmonization' but a lot of it varies from person to person, from what I've heard."

Lussuria hummed thoughtfully and fussed with the covers. "I imagine that that is part of the reason why you and your Cloudy friend are so tactile. Blaise will most like Harmonize with you as soon as your Flame achieves the inner Harmony and you shift back to your natural Sky Flame."

"Yeah, about that, I thought I was a Storm?" Harry asked weakly.

Lussuria shook his head and gave Harry a patient look. "Like Xanxus explained, all the events that happened when you were a baby caused your soul to splinter internally. When you expelled the soul piece your soul began the healing process, but you manifested as a Storm because it was the only Flame strong enough to be used offensively at the time. When you had your incident with the Basilisk and the Phoenix used his tears to heal you, your Sun Flames were boosted enough to catalyze the healing process, which I've helped along. Your training with Squalo and your Will to survive the Trial has given your soul the necessary foundation to fully pull your soul all the way back into balance."

"So, I'm a Sky, but I was able to use my Storm Flames. Will I still be able to use them?"

"I'm not sure, sweetling. Skies are rare, even in the mafia world. Shattered Skies usually cannot use Flames at all or go insane and have to be taken down. I know that the Sixth? Yeah, I think it was the Sixth, anyways, the Sixth Boss of the Vongola Family was a Shattered Sky who managed to pull himself together. The situation was different, naturally, but it gave us hope that you'd pull through!" Lussuria finished fussing with the blankets and hopped to his feet. The perky Sun spun around to grin down at Harry with his hands on his hips. "Now I have to go finish dinner! It'll be at seven, don't be late!"

And, with that, the Varia Sun Officer bounced out of the room.

Harry turned back to look at Blaise, suddenly terrified that he'd lose the other all over again. "So, um."

"You're thinking so loudly I see smoke come out of your ears, Gryffindor." Blaise drawled in amusement.

"What does being a Gryffindor have to do with anything?" Harry pouted outrageously, mostly to try to hide his nearly overwhelming relief.

"It made you stop being stupid, didn't it?" Blaise pointed out reasonably.

"I wasn't being stupid!" Harry cried indignantly. "I was-"

"-worried that you'd somehow manipulated me into being your amazingly dashing brother-in-arms? Complete with pretty purple fire and snarky one-liners about Gryffindor?" Blaise drawled irreverently.

Harry sulked rather pointedly. "Well, if that Sky Attraction stuff-"

"-hasn't even kicked in yet. You've only just finished helping right the balance in your soul, which has been out of balance almost your entire life." Blaise's firm tone softened and he smiled at his friend. "Relax Adi. We made it- together- and that's how we'll make it next time and the time after that and the time after that. One way trip remember?"

Harry smiled- bright and honest- even though the shadows in his eyes were still there, the blood on his hands was still fresh, and he knew he had barely gotten started. But somehow he figured he'd be alright as long as Blaise was there to keep him from being an idiot. "Yeah," He said warmly to his friend. "One way trip."

"Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere." Blaise repeated resolutely as he started to help Harry out of the bed. Blaise knew that the first thing he had wanted when he'd awoken was a shower, and he imagined Harry did as well. "It's more than just an oath now, it's a way of life. A creed, even." Blaise chirped cheerfully as they hobbled towards the ensuite facilities.

"Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere." Harry replied firmly, eyes sparking with resolve.

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