A/N: Hello! I'm back! However, this isn't technically a chapter. It's an interlude, taking a look at what's going on elsewhere in this little AU I've created. Feel free to skip it, and the next chapter should be ready by next weekend (I've been sick, and I have a lot of stuff going on during the week). If you want to continue reading, well…thanks. I hope you guys enjoy!

Interlude

Of Mice and Men

Tsuna curled up under a tree, huddling over his bruised torso. The other children at school had been mean again today, calling him names and hitting him when he tried to ignore them like his Mama had told him to.

They hadn't always been mean to him; he could vaguely remember a time when the other children had played happily with him, smiling at him and laughing happily. Now though…they sneered and snickered, their smiles corrupted into cruel smirks as they hurt him.

He shivered—he was so cold. It was a warm day, but he could barely remember the feeling of warmth on his skin, much less in the pits of his bones. The sun shone down at him, mocking him for the chill that pervaded his very being, like he had been frozen inside.

It was a bruised Sawada Tsunayoshi that returned to his house that day, holding back helpless tears of loneliness and despair, his Mama none the wiser.

/

Hibari Kyouya felt something deep inside himself purr as he watched over Namimori. It was something that had been passed down the Hibari line for generations—they protected their town, their home, their territory with a ferocity that was nearly unmatched by all others, be it by legal means, or illegal.

He was young, but his Okaa-san had been teaching him how to fight, and this was his first time being allowed to patrol the more rundown side of town on his own.

As he prowled the dirty streets, he wondered why his Otou-san had been so against him learning to uphold the family tradition. It wasn't as if the crowding herbivores, with their knives and sticks and guns, would be a match for him and Okaa-san—they were carnivores, and they were meant to hunt herbivores. It was natural!

As he locked on to his first prey, a group of Yakuza conducting a drug deal in a small back alley, he put his Otou-san's squeamishness down to the fact that he wasn't a Hibari. After all, how could they expect him to understand something that wasn't in his blood, even if it did make him more herbivorous than Kyouya would like?

He pushed it out of his mind as he pounced, letting the thrill of adrenaline sweep him away into a swift, roaring river of battle and bloodlust, his blood roaring in his ears as he gave himself over to the predator inside him.

He was a Hibari, after all.

/

Alcor Black watched his sister, Mizar, as she plotted her next prank against their father. Normally, he might be interested in joining her, but there was something laying on his mind.

Their eldest cousin, Hadrian—or Ya-yoon, as he had constantly corrected them—was going off to Hogwarts this autumn, and he…didn't really know how to take that. For as long as he could remember, Hadrian had been a nearly omnipresent figure in his and Mizar's lives, watching over them with a sharp eye whenever they were placed in his care. Alcor wondered if Clarence felt similarly—after all, their younger cousin was far closer to his enigma of a brother than they were.

And yet, at the same time, he was excited. He could feel it rising in him, quickening his pulse. Just one more year. One more year, and he and Mizar and Clarence and Neville would be at Hogwarts, decked out in red and gold at the Gryffindor House table at the welcoming feast, sitting by the warm fire in the comfortable armchairs that his Da had told him about in the Gryffindor Common Room, and learning how to use their wands and perform magic!

He couldn't wait, not one moment more. But he had to; there was still one more year between him and seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

For a moment, he wondered if Hadrian would be amenable to sneaking a Muggle photo-chimera (that's what it was called, right?) in, to take pictures and send them back for him to see.

"Hey, Al! Come on, I have an idea…" Mizar called, tugging him over. Alcor grinned at her, letting his thoughts of Hogwarts and his eldest cousin fall away. There was pranking to be done.

/

A boy curled under a bed, trembling. He could feel his breath coming in trembling gasps, ripping their way from his throat harshly. He heard the door to the house creak open, slow and soft, and footsteps thud on the wooden planks of the floor below.

He closed his blue eyes, shaking. They were coming, coming for him, to finish off what they started and he was trapped—

Footsteps made their way up the stairs, likely following the trail of blood that was there. His breath hitched as he thought of that trail, of the one who had made it—his father, oh god, his father, he was dead dead deadde eaddea ddeadeadead—

The door to his room opened, and a quiet curse sounded out. The person walked around, surveying the gory sight, staring at the corpse that he knew lay in the room, limp and cold and deaddeaddeaddeaddead.

He shuddered, trying to calm his breathing, to remain undetected and alive for just a little bit longer.

The footsteps stopped, right beside his hiding place. He stared at the boots of the person—they were leather, with thick rubber soles and utilitarian threads, the polished black gleaming in the soft light from the barely opened curtains.

He froze as the legs bent, and hands appeared on the floor; they had found him, they were going to kill him—

A sharp, strong face appeared, eyes as blue as his own gleaming in the light as he smiled.

"Hey there," he said, reaching a large, gloved hand out to him. "Why don't you come with me?"

This man, who was he? He was going to kill him, right?

…he looked so much like his father, who laid cold and limp and unmoving, eyes blank and clouded in death, that he couldn't help moving forward, couldn't help the tears that rose in his eyes.

The man pulled him out gently, picking him up and cradling him in warm, strong arms. He heard voices, but he didn't care. This man, this man who looked like his father, he wasn't going to hurt him. And for a moment, as helpless sobs wracked his body, he could almost fantasize that this man, that this man was his father, holding him and comforting him, and that the corpse that lay in a puddle of blood was a stranger, unknown and not leaving a gaping wound in his chest.

As the world faded around him, he wondered if that was really the case, that his father had somehow escaped and come back for him, with reinforcements to save him, and that corpse was collateral.

He desperately wanted it to be true, for reality to bend to his whims.

And maybe, for just a little bit, he would pretend.

Pretend that his father wasn't dead.

Pretend that he wasn't alone.

Pretend…pretend that everything was alright.

/

(The plans of Mice and Men often go awry; this is no news. But when the plans of Fate herself are tangled and wound and torn—the result is something not even Fate can foresee.)

/

/End.\

I hope you guys enjoyed the interlude! Next time, we'll see Yāyún's trip to Diagon Alley, and the beginning of the next arc: The Hogwarts Arc!

*credit to Mukuro234 for helping me come up with that name*

With all of that being said, several of you guys have correctly guessed Arianna and Callista's father, and though I'm not going to reveal it just yet, kudos to all of you who got it! On that note, Snowyh2o, do you have some way I can contact you privately to inform you which of your guesses was correct? If not, don't worry about it, but you did guess it right.

Stay Awesome!

~Happy Camper27