Exile: Had this plotbunny for forever and finally typed it out.

Based on: What if Harry was taken in by the Vongola? But Tsuna raising him would be a bit cliche... why not make him a Varia Quality Wizard?

KHR Pairings: B26, 1827, 6996, 8059, XS, Fong/Viper.

HP pairings currently undecided.

Don't own, never will.

It wasn't that Petunia Dursley disliked the scraggly-haired nephew of hers that was currently locked up in his room. Admittedly, she loathed him. Hated, loathed, detested him, just as her husband and her son did. But for her, and her alone, there was something different. That little something said that, despite the deep hatred she had for her nephew, he was still flesh and blood.

However, she constantly ignored that little something and reasoned that, since her son and husband also despised the little runt, she was completely justified. After all, her little Dudders was such a smart, kind boy, and if he didn't like that brat then that meant that her nephew was a rotten child that would never amount to anything good. Those people that waved wands around were absolute fools if they thought the runt was anyone of value.

She kept convincing herself that the boy was an eyesore, a creep, a rash and pestilence on her household that would be perfectly wonderful if not for him. Unfortunately, she couldn't just toss him out- toss him out, not eliminate- and be done with, because those... wizards would come after her and her family. She couldn't have that happen. Her sister and brother in law had already died because of him, and she wasn't going to get insane wand-waving coots after her little Dudders. She had dealt with it for the past eight years, and she wasn't about to deal with it for one moment longer. Eight years was long enough.

It was a shame that she couldn't abandon him somewhere and pass it off as an accident... Petunia's eyes widened. It was possible. It was definitely doable. And it was inevitable that the bug would get lost and hopefully never return to her house again... he would be able to survive on his own, she reasoned.

"Vernon dear, I think we should take the family out to West Wittering over the weekend!" she called to her husband upstairs.

Yes. This plan was foolproof and her family (her real family, the brat wasn't part of it) would be free of the irritating eight-year-old orphan her stupid sister Lily had left behind.

Harry stared outside the car windows with awe, curiously peering at the other people that were going to West Wittering. It was summertime, meaning school was out and the weather was hot- hot enough that hundreds of families were flooding to the oceanside. The Dursleys and Harry were no exception. However, the child was feeling a bit wary. Why had the his aunt and uncle forced him to pack up all his scant belongings in a backpack and take it with him? It's not like they were staying in a beachside hotel for three days, right? Besides, he was also curious as to why the Dursleys were taking him somewhere nice. It was all so peculiar.

When they got to the beach and managed to get to the parking spaces, Vernon frowned noticeably and grunted, "There's no parking, Pet." In turn, his wife looked up from her book and stared at the parking lot. The group drove around for twenty minutes, looking for a parking space. Harry looked out for one too, really hopeful to go on as see the ocean and swim in the saltwater.

However, it appeared that they would be unable to park anywhere near the beach at all. Dudley started loudly complaining about wanting to play in the sand and watching the surfers, whereas his cousin remained quiet. Finally, Petunia gave a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Dudley, why don't you go with Harry," she said Harry's name in a sickening saccharine voice, "without us to the beach and play while Vernon and I look for a parking spot?" The kid cheered loudly before booting the door open and running out to the sand. Before Harry could get out of the car, "Harry, don't forget to take your backpack with you!" So he turned around and snagged his worn backpack that held everything he had and stepped out of the car and approached the beach cautiously.

He stood there at the edge of the sand, staring at the sparkling ocean in awe. There were many people at the beach, all sorts of people too! However, it wasn't a brilliant idea to stand still on a crowded boardwalk, he realized as he was knocked sideways by someone, letting out a little hiss as he scraped his elbow. "Ot. Bel-senpai can't be royalty if he was so un-royally inattentive and bumped into a kid," a monotone voice said blandly, followed by the sound of what Harry thought was knives thudding into a hat. A hand was proffered and Harry grabbed it, pulling himself up. "Bel-senpai, you should apologize," the man drawled to the other person.

"Shishi, well the peasant was standing in the way," someone else replied, and there was the sound of knives being unsheathed, making Harry look at the two people curiously. Both of them were male, and they were attracting many stares from surrounding beachgoers. The one that had bumped into Harry had blond, extremely messy bangs that covered his eyes, and had only a pair of red and black swimming trunks on, both his hands holding a set of small, jagged knives. The sunlight glinted off his hair, and the boy saw that there was a silver tiara resting in the blond locks. The one that had helped Harry up... his appearance was even odder. He had green hair and eyes, and he wore a thin white tank top and dark blue shorts. But the thing that was the most attention grabbing was the ridiculously large frog hat on his head. It practically encased his entire skull.

"Ah, um, I'm sorry for standing in the way," he apologized before backing away, the knives he had no doubt were real. The two strangers nodded and walked away, their conversation suddenly going on about whether marine frogs existed or not, and how "Fran" should change his hat to one. There were also complaints about knives in a hat.

Ignoring the scene that had just happened, Harry tucked his backpack into a small cranny created by a group of rather large rocks where it would be safe. Then he stepped onto the sand gingerly, then took another step, and another, and then he was racing to the saltwater. So this is a beach! he thought excitedly as he reached the water. Grinning widely as he felt the salt water cover his feet and splash against his legs, he worked his way through the waves to the point where the waves were washing against his torso. Then, he submerged his entire body, instinctively closing his bright green eyes and holding his breath.

At first, Harry simply floated there, enjoying the feel of the water surrounding him and the tranquil silence that came with it. However, due to his swimming inexperience, he soon burst out of the water, gasping for air yet still grinning. Taking in a gulp of air, he dove in again, this time blindly maneuvering his body through the water with movements that he could only assume came from his intuition. The way the water flowed through his fingers as he tread through it was unfamiliar and refreshing.

Harry broke through the surface of the water again and stood up, shaking his black hair and causing a sprinkle of droplets to lightly splash into the ocean again, the way he had seen the other kids there do. Even if he didn't have family like everyone else, the beach was amazing... Harry batted the negative thoughts away. He was going to enjoy himself-

Wait, where were the Dursleys?

Normally, Harry wouldn't actively seek out his foster family, but alarm bells were ringing in his head, ringing that something bad was happening. Obeying it, he dashed from the water, back up the sand, and arrived in the parking lot to see Dudley forced into the van by Vernon and the three of them drive off.

He frantically searched for his backpack, allowing himself a sigh of relief when he realized that it was still safe where he had left it. It all made sense now, he supposed. the Dursleys had finally gotten tired of him, and had decided to abandon him in a public place. If the authorities ever found him and found out that he was no longer under their roof, then they could claim that he had gotten lost.

It was the perfect way to get rid of an unwanted, lonely "freak" like him. Harry laughed humorlessly, sitting down on the rocks and holding onto his backpack, not caring of the looks people gave him. Its not like they cared at all.

Then the screams started. His head jolted up in time to see a mass of people evacuating the beach, shrieking their heads off.

"SHARKS!"

"Everybody run!"

"The sharks- they ate someone, my God!"

"What the hell is happening?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, ducking next to the rocks in order to not be trampled by the veritable stampede of human feet. "So sharks attacked and ate someone?" he wondered aloud, a single island of sanity in a wave of panic. When the amount of beach-fleers decreased substantially, Harry dared to venture from his hiding place, heading the way opposite, towards the beach. Perhaps he would be able to see some sharks. They didn't go on land, after all, so he should be safe.

However, as he crept towards the ocean, there was a flash of silver in the fog, and Harry tossed himself to the ground as three small knives flew right where his back had been. They landed in the ground in a perfectly straight line, and the boy instinctively knew that they had been thrown at him with professional aim. He got to his feet, crouching down and and keeping his body low to ground as he began running towards the sound of the waves lapping the sand.

Ka-ching! the sound of knives peppering the sand behind him increased continuously, but he was not going to dare looking back. It would be tantamount to suicide. His foot stumbled on something in the sand, and when Harry looked down, he had to bite his lip to not scream in shock.

He had tripped on a hand. A dead hand, belonging to a dead man with a corpulent belly and several rings on his fingers. There was a gigantic severed hole in his left thigh that could pass as a sharkbite, but for some reason, Harry had a sinking feeling that the flesh had been cut out rather than bitten out. And that the culprit was the person throwing knives at him now.

Harry closed his eyes. I can't die here, I can't die here. he chanted mentally, shoving aside the image of the dead man as he resumed his running. The knives had stopped a little bit ago, but there was a little voice that tauntingly said, The killer is probably waiting for you.

Then, he tripped again. This time, on an outstretched leg whose owner grabbed the back of his collar and lifted him up to eye-level. "Can you cook?" a slightly familiar frog-hatted man asked in monotone.

This made no sense, no sense at all. "Yes!" he squeaked. "But I need to run, there's a killer after me- you should run too maybe-"

The man just regarded him blankly. "Can you clean?"

"Yes, though I don't see the point of these questions, sir!"

"Can you survive?"

Harry flinched. "I do my best," he muttered.

The person looked him up and down before opening his mouth to say, "Bel-sempaaaai. We need to take this kid with us or the baby boss will cook us."

"Ushishishishi. The prince approves of the boy," the blond that Harry had run into appeared from the mist, and the boy's eyes widened as he recognized the knives arrayed in the man's hands.

"You killed that guy!" he yelped.

The one holding him looked back down at him. "We're the great assassin duo of the Top Magician and fake-prince," he deadpanned.

"Ushishishi- And now, you are coming with us," the other laughed, approaching him them.

The last thing Harry saw was the green-haired fellow snapping his fingers and the fog dissipating before he was elegantly knocked out. By a jagged butter-knife.

Tsuna had learned about the existence of magic, wizards, and wands after being installed as Neo Vongola Primo. Needless to say, his reaction hadn't been exactly fitting for a boss. It had involved disbelief, panic, shock, and an actual wand pointed at his head.

After that, he had learned more about the subject. From what Reborn had told him, the Vongola had been friends with wizards ever since Vongola Primo had aided the 'light' side during the first Wizarding War, which had taken place in Italy about four hundred years ago. In fact, Sepira and Checkerface had been of the magical side of the world as well. That meant that the Vongola Rings, the Mare Rings, and the Arcobaleno Pacifiers had been created using a procedure akin to the making of a wand.

Well, that explains the incomparable power of the Trinisette, Tsuna thought to himself, sitting at his desk in the Vongola Mansion as he listened to Reborn's lecture on the Wizarding World, which he was forced to attend frequently, lest he be shot... or worse. 'Worse' had become much worse than previous times' 'worse' due to the breaking of the Arcobaleno's curse and the lack of inhibitions for Reborn to use magic on him, so Tsuna wasn't going to risk anything.

"...are you listening, Dame-Tsuna?"

Tsuna jumped in his chair, slamming his knees into the bottom of his large, wooden desk in the process. He hissed in pain as quietly as he could before raising his head to meet Reborn's onyx eyes. "Y-yes! Yes, I was! I-I was just wondering how it's possible for us to use the Trinisette if we aren't wizards...?"

Reborn glared at him suspiciously as he lowered Leon and continued, "I said that the Trinisette was made like a wand would be created. However, the Trinisette was made specifically for those with Flames, not for wizards. Instead of a conduit for magic with a magical core, the Trinisette- or rings in general, for that matter- are Flame conductors with a special stone as the core."

Tsuna made an 'o' with his mouth. "But... so we're like wizards a bit, then?"

Reborn answered with a sharp whack to the head. "No, idiot. Magic and Dying Will Flames have completely different abilities and properties. Magic can completely change the properties and nature of things and whack with the laws of science. Verde actually hates it to the core. Dying Will Flames can only do each of their abilities."

The brunet frowned and nodded. "Is it possible for a wizard to have Dying Will Flames or a Flame user to use magic?" he asked.

The former Arcobaleno smirked, knowing that Tsuna was finally paying attention. "It depends. There are certain conditions. It depends on whether a person has Flames or magic in the first place, and which one was unlocked first. For one, only Mist users or those exposed to the Pacifiers' curse can potentially use magic. However, they would need a wand first. Magic users may be able to use flames, but their predominant Flame would be Mist, thought in some rare cases they may be able to use completely different flames."

"Note to self: do not let Mukuro learn any of this or let him near an actual wand," Tsuna muttered under his breath.

Reborn thought about it for a moment and his eye twitched at the very idea. "Anyway, the thing is though that all Flames other than Mist can nullify and cancel out any and all effects of magic. Wards, attack spells, magical items- they could all be destroyed if attacked by Flames. I'm not sure about wands, though, as I haven't taken any time to experiment and have no interest in destroying my own."

Tsuna let out a breath of relief. "Thank god. So if wizards ever tried to attack us, then we'd definitely be able to defeat them, right?"

"Exactly," Reborn nodded. "Now, I should probably tell you about the current state of the Wizarding World."

"Eight years ago, there was one wizard that called himself the Dark Lord Voldemort," Tsuna snorted at the name, "Yes, ridiculous name, but he had serious consequences. He was exceptionally powerful for a wizard, and he began gathering followers who called themselves the Death Eaters. His aim was killing off the entire population of non-magic users, which they call "Muggles". He was sadly, rather successful."

Tsuna stared at him in disbelief. "Why didn't the other Wizards fight back?" he questioned, flabbergasted. "The chances that there were wizards as strong as this Voldemort at the time are high, assuming that their strength follows a classic bell curve."

The hitman smirked to himself, knowing that Tsuna was applying his prior knowledge. Gone were the days of Dame-Tsuna (although Reborn would always call him that). It had been a great accomplishment in the history of home tutors. But now wasn't a time to gloat. "Fear, Dame-Tsuna. Never before had such a man with influence and power had risen up the ranks. Think of Nazi Germany and Hitler."

The Primo's eyes flashed gold for a moment. "Is he still alive?" he asked gravely.

"The funny thing is... no, he isn't," Reborn allowed himself to grin widely, the one which always frightened his former students. "Would you like to guess how he died?"

"He committed suicide like Hitler," Tsuna guessed flatly. "It seems to be the trend for failing fascist dictators, after all."

"Wrong." BANG Tsunayoshi tilted his head to the side, dodging a bullet. "His own curse rebounded on him when he attempted to kill a boy that was prophesied to defeat him someday. The thing is, it was just a mere baby that defeated him." A set of pictures were flicked at him, and Tsuna glanced them over, seeing a child with dark, messy hair, awkward glasses, and a scar that looked a bit like a lightning bolt on his forehead. The pictures were obviously candid; photos taken while the boy was unaware. "Harry Potter. Also dubbed the Boy-Who-Lived, the only known survivor of the killing curse, currently living with Petunia and Vernon Dursley, his aunt and uncle."

"British?" he guessed. Reborn nodded. "Why are you telling me about him?"

Wrong question. The eight-year-old's eyes glinted darkly, and the gun was raised again. "I'm teaching you about Wizarding History, and this boy is important to it," the hitman explained slowly, like talking to a child. The brunet winced and began running from his office.

Even though the Arcobaleno had the physical body of ten-year-olds, they were still the strongest of their fields and not to be trifled with. At all.

It was an hour or so later that Tsuna made it back to his office. However, before he could even open the doors and rush to his beloved leather, wheeled spinning-chair that did wonders on his back muscles, someone had to grab the back of his collar and began dragging him down the hall. "The trash brought back a little brat from their fucking mission and told me that you would recognize the brat," Xanxus growled, and Tsuna just decided to attempt to take a nice nap in the meantime.

The carpet seemed blissfully soft at that moment, after all.

Exile: Bel and Fran kidnapped Harry three days before they got back to the Varia. Fran recognized Harry (Due to a certain Arcobaleno forcing him to attend Durmstrang for a few years; he'd have learned about Voldemort and the Boy-Who-Lived in a History class) and they spontaneously decided to take back the (clearly abandoned) kid. And adopt him. Because they're somehow married and want a kid or something to raise into an excellent assassin.

Voldemort, watch out. The Boy-Who-Lived is going to be a Varia Quality Wizard.

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