Summary: All he wanted was to live a normal (as normal as an immortal can anyway) life… Why did he have to be roped into the Mafia after finally gaining his freedom!? And damn you Death for being a bloody git! MoD!Harry, Harry as Skull.

Main Pairing: Harry Potter (Skull) / Undecided

Side Pairing(s): Canon pairings for now

Warning: AU, MoD!Harry, Mentions of rape, abuse & cannibal, Slash (Male and Male Relationship), HP as Skull

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn… obviously

Chapter 1

Location: Azkaban

In one of the many cells at Azkaban, a man in his late 100s stared blankly at the dirty walls he had wholly memorized during his century old stay in prison. He knew every nook, cranny, and cracks from the constant gazing he did daily. He would be a considered ancient by Muggle standards, however his appearance was deceiving. He looked no more than seventeen, and had not aged even a day after he had gathered all three Hallows in his hands.

He regretted ever opening the Christmas gift he had received at eleven by Dumbledore.

After the demise of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort to the public, the Wizarding world decided that tossing him into Azkaban was the best way to repay his kindness. They proclaimed him an uprising Dark Lord, already with an army at his back and call.

He regretted saving those fools who relied on a teenager to save them.

Not only was he given an unfair trail, he was also betrayed by those he thought were his family. The Weasleys said that they thought of him as one of them, however when he was being judged, they spouted nonsense and proclaimed him a dastardly person whom constantly lied to gain attention – they also said that he had raped the youngest Weasley, Ginevra, after monologue-ing how he would trick the people into believing him a savior before claiming the title of Dark Lord.

He regretted ever befriending Ronald Bilius Weasley and trusting the entire redheaded family.

What he didn't expect when he was being dragged out of the court by Aurors, was that Draco had stood up from his seat and demanded for his release, and for everyone to reconsider what they were intending to do to their savior. Draco fought hard for him, but it was all for naught. He was grateful though, and he had smiled in gratitude as the Aurors manhandled him away, Draco's shameful eyes looking at him in stubborn determination.

He regretted ever declining Draco's hand of friendship back when he was still a naïve little eleven year old.

The first week inside Azkaban was a nightmare for him. The memories of his childhood, betrayals, and war, had raged through his head when a Dementor got close to his cell, tormenting him and tearing apart what little sanity he has. He was able to fight the Dementors' effects for the first few months, thinking stupidly that the Ministry would let him out and jokingly say that it was all a mistake. Of course, as expected, nobody came apart from the guards and Dementors.

He regretted ever hoping for a hero to save him.

After a few decades had passed, he feared the human guards more than the Dementors. They would defile him in many ways, laughing as he cried and begged for them to stop. He feared a person's touch more than the chill of those creatures. He wanted everything to stop, so he slit his throat using a sharp stone that used to be a piece of the wall. He should have known that it would not work.

He regretted not letting the Dementors suck his soul rather than physically harming his own body.

The guards had seen him and announced him dead after an hour had passed, however he did not stay that way. He had suddenly coughed out a mouthful of blood, and was then shipped to the Unspeakables in order to test his immortal status – they greed for immortality. That was the most unforgettable experience in his life. They not only collected his (all of) body fluids for samples, but continued to kill him with different methods. From beheading to bleeding to death. Over and over and over. Again and again and again. That was the moment where he lost a portion of his sanity, and wanted the death of every Unspeakable. He did not remember how he had managed to escape their restraints and maimed them beyond recognition.

He regretted not mastering his wandless Magic during his time at Hogwarts.

When he came to his senses, he was back in his cell, fresh blood still on his skin and restraints wrapped firmly around his person. The guards left him alone for a few months, but continued their treatment after that. When he was alone, he trained himself in the art of meditation, and because of this, his mentality was fortified. The Dementors had little to no effect over him now, and he was determined to become an animagus – a way for him to escape the human tormentors of his. Unless they were into bestiality that is.

He regretted slacking and playing around when he was still a student.

After he had managed to become an animagus, he always transformed when in the company of humans – they left his panther [1] form alone in fear of him sinking his fangs into their flesh. He had managed to kill all the guards that had entered his cell, but there was no way out for him. The Ministry had applied a Magic absorption rune inside his cell, and a ward to keep him from leaving, immediately after his sentence after all. He was basically a Muggle, and he was lucky that the transformation did not require the usage of Magic outside of his body. As punishment for killing the guards, he was left without food. He ate the meat of those he had killed, too famished to care that he was becoming a cannibal.

He regretted ever knowing the taste of human flesh.

The meals from then on were always rotten meat, or fellow prisoners that had their souls eaten by the Dementors. He had hurled their bodies away in disgust at first, but when hunger took over, he ate with only tears as his company. It became the usual for him, and now he did not bat an eyelid even if he were given a single arm to feast on. He would gladly eat any meat, in both human and panther form.

It was addictive, juicy and much tenderer than any animal meats.

Time flew by and he got used to his lifestyle. Sit in his cell to stare at the walls when the meat–… humans were patrolling, and exercise when alone. Wait for his meal, and eat anything they threw at him, no matter how rotten or disgusting it looked. Continue to meditate and exercise control of his inner Magic. Sleep when he was tired. Rinse and repeat.

Now after almost two centuries had passed by, he grew more impatient and fidgeted more. He wanted out of this cell of his, and he was currently in the middle of brainstorming –

"Prisoner 473." a person he did not recognized smiled at him from outside of his cell. The portly man had guards flunking him as if he were royalty.

Harry, how long he had not used his name even in his mind, only gazed at the man with blank eyes. After a few minutes of nothing but tensed (on their part) silence, he moved his gaze away to stare at the walls. It was much more interesting than the man's pimpled plump face.

"How dare you turn away from the Minister – when Minister Hisass was kind enough to grace someone as lowly as yourself with his presence!?" he did not need to turn to know that that was mea–human guard number 12 that yelled, offended on the Minister's behalf.

"Calm yourself, Geoffrey." The Minister (do all Ministers need to look incompetent to get elected?) said sternly before his voice was directed at Harry, full of insincere kindness. "How about a deal, Mr. Potter? I will free you from this prison in exchange for the location of the Resurrection Stone."

Harry only remained silent. He had expected someone to turn up and ask him the location of the Hallows, but he had not expected that it would be so late. He wondered idly what was happening outside of Azkaban. Did another Dark Lord pop up? If so, he would cheer for said Dark Lord and wish for the Magical world's doom.

"Mr. Potter, I know that you are displeased, and I completely understand. Having been here for more than a century would make anybody bear a grudge against the Ministry. But you have to understand… I am dearly in need of the Stone, before the other countries get their hands on it. You are still a citizen of Magical Britain – you are required to help your country."

Required to help? That was what they said when they told him about the prophecy. He was required – destined – to save Magical Britain from the big bad Dark Lord Voldemort. Where did he end up after having saved his country? In prison. That's where.

He regretted ever killing Riddle.

"You must understand, Mr. Potter, that the previous Minister, Fudge, had no choice but to detain you. You were harboring an army of Dark Wizards and Witches. I wish no ill upon gaining the Hallows, and will lock those three artifacts in the deepest of Goblin Vaults."

There was a slight edge in the tone the portly Minister used, and he recognized it as impatience. Harry only drew circles on the ground where he sat crossed legged. He suddenly felt a craving for pig intestine pie. His emerald eyes shone underneath his messy bangs, and he lowered his head to hide the demented grin that appeared on his cracked and dry lips.

"You don't need to feel guilty of what you have done," The Pig (in his eyes) spoke kindly, misunderstanding the reason for his bowed head. "Let bygones be bygones… However if that does not satisfy you, the location of the stone would lighten up my days considerably."

Suddenly, as if a dam broke inside of him, Harry laughed – a high pitched deranged one that he idly recalled as Voldemort's signature laugh. He inwardly shrugged and continued, feeling amused at their respectively shocked, wary, and fearful expressions on their faces. When he finally stopped (his throat hurt like hell), he rose to stand and gave them a closed eye smile. It was an expression that didn't suit him, and his visitors shuddered in unison.

"I demand that you give me the location of the Stone this instance!" The Minister all but shouted, his patience lost and all that remained was his reddened and angry face.

"Why don't we negotiate, Minister?" Harry's voice was a mere whisper, his throat too raw to speak louder.

"Very well." Pig grunted after a few moments of silence. "What is your demand?"

"To be thrown into the Veil inside the Death Chamber."

He could see that the Pig of a Minister was absolutely thrilled by the idea, though the Pig-human hybrid tried to hide it.

"That can be arranged."

"I shall disclose the information to you once I am but a few steps away from the Veil, Minister."

"Now, Mr. Potter, how can I know that you will tell the truth?" The empty smile on his face remained, unaffected as the man pointed his wand to Harry. He wasn't afraid of being under the Cruciatus curse, or pain in any form. Death was also a welcome to him.

"An Unbreakable vow, perhaps?"

"As if I will risk my own arm to make one with you, Mr. Potter."

"Of course of course… Perhaps I could swear on my Magic that I will disclose the whereabouts of the Stone – and you shall do the same on your part of the deal."

They were silent. Harry waited. He has all of eternity, where they only have a limited amount of time.

"By all means, take your time." He taunted mockingly.

"I, Ozias Jasper Hisass, swear on my Magic that I will bring Harry James Potter into the Death Chamber, but only if he were to swears that he knows the truthful location of the Resurrection Stone here and now." was grudgingly said through gritted teeth.

"Then I, Harry James Potter, swear on my Magic that I will truthfully disclose the location of the Resurrection Stone as I know it, to Ozias Jasper Hisass, but only if I were to stand directly in front of the Veil inside of the Death Chamber – unrestrained."

"Swear that you won't attack, maim, or kill, anybody on our way to the Death Chamber." The Pig paused for a moment before he continued. "And no detours." Damn.

He hummed as if in thought, but inwardly he was pleased. "I also swear on my Magic that I will be escorted to the Death Chamber without taking any detours, and will not attack, maim, or kill, anybody on our way there… and will only do so if threatened."

"So mote it be."

Harry felt, more than see his Magic react to the vow.

"Guards, unlock the cell and take off his restraints."

The guards were wary as they unlocked and entered his cell, but Harry only gazed at them emptily as they removed the wrists and ankles chains from him, before pushing him – quite roughly he might add – out of the cell.

He closed his eyes and bathed in the feeling of his Magic leaking out of his pores, chilling everyone in the area, worse than any Dementor could make them feel. When his eyes snapped opened, they glowed with unrestrained power, and Harry laughed as the guards and Minister immediately had their wands pointed at him in caution. He noted that their hands were shaking terribly, but he only chuckled and walked forward. He licked his chapped lips, hoping that one of them would attack his unguarded back – he would be allowed to kill the person in 'defense', as per stated in the vow.

When they were outside in the open, the Pig of a Minster took out a portkey and Harry placed a finger on it. The guards bowed to the Minister, and only after the two disappeared did they turn back to continue their duties.

OOOO

The walk to the Death Chamber was mildly amusing to Harry, and nerve wrecking to the Minister. Majority of the community only knew of Harry in stories or books, but his appearance was undisclosed to the future generations. Thanks to this, everyone only treated him like a mere criminal due to his Azkaban uniform, however when a Witch with long red hair had stopped in front of the Minister, Harry just knew that the woman was a Weasley.

His eyes roamed her body, and he raised a delicate brow at the state of her clothes. It was not hand me downs. They were new, and he could see the quality of it was high. He hummed absentmindedly as if he was not paying attention to anything, and dived into her mind when she looked at him in curiosity.

The vow did not say anything about Legilimencing someone.

What he found out wasn't much of a shock to him. In fact, he had expected it. This woman, Lavender Selena Weasley, is Ron and Hermione's great granddaughter. Ron had once unintentionally informed Lavender when he was drunk, that the Weasley family was once poor, but thanks to Harry's vaults, they became one of the richest families in the Wizarding World.

He continued to hum as he exited her mind, she not even noticing that her mind had been breached. After a few more minutes of the Minister and her conversing, Harry began to lose patience. Sure he would've loved to see what had changed in the time he has spent in Azkaban, but he was impatient as well. The faster he enters the Veil, the better.

"Who is this, Minister? If I may ask?" Lavender glanced at Harry shyly.

Harry knew that he was considered more on the above average side in the looks department, but won't his tangled long hair, and torn prison uniform turn anybody off? He doubted that he was decent to even look at currently. He could feel that the dirt and sweat and other things he would love nothing more than to wash off, were on his skin – he was caked in unidentified things. He must smell horrid as well.

"Ah… T-this is…" The Minister wiped the sweat on his cheek with a handkerchief nervously.

"Harry." He replied. He needed entertainment after a century of wall gazing. "Harry Potter. I used to go to school with your great grandparents – your family really should've visited to at least thank me for making them rich." He answered in a bored whispery monotone, as if he had not just proclaimed to be the Wizarding world's fallen savior.

Weaselette only gapped at him in disbelief, and took an unconscious step back, obvious fear in those blue eyes of hers. The Pig sputtered and excused them hurriedly before he led – quite forcefully – Harry towards the elevator.

When they were the only two inside, Harry ignored the man's ranting about keeping his identity secret and all that rot. He didn't care and tuned the Pig-human hybrid out. They arrived at the Death Chamber soon after, and the Minister stood a few meters away from the Veil and Harry, his wand pointed directly at Harry's heart.

"Well?" The Pig impatiently questioned.

Harry turned around, his back facing the Veil, and tilted his head to the side as he stared into the Minister's eyes.

"The Resurrection stone is at Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest to be exact."

"Where in the forest?"

"I don't know." Harry smiled a blood thirsty smile, whilst the Minister paled yet glared at Harry at the same time.

"What do you mean you do not know!? You swore –"

"That I would disclose the location as I know it. The last I saw the Stone was at the Forbidden Forest – where I threw it carelessly away. It might even be inside an animal's belly, or crap actually."

"Y-you…!"

"Well then… It was nice knowing you, Minister. You are as incompetent as Fudge, I might add." He pointed at the Pig, who was throwing spell after spell at him. He didn't even bother to block them, as they were weak enough to bounce off of him without problem. "Avada Kedavra."

The Minister dropped dead the second he uttered those words. "You should've demanded that I be unable to attack or kill whilst still inside the Death Chamber, and not only when we are on our way here, Minister. This is why you're incompetent."

He took one last look at the Chamber he was in, and fell backwards into the Veil, fully intending to die and greet Death with a middle finger for being a bastard – and for making him immortal.

He regretted a lot of things, but most of all… he regretted ever stepping into the Magical World.

A/N: I have a FB group, so join if you feel like it. The link is on my profile.

I really really really wanted to make a KHR/HP xover fic for who knows how long! I've always been a fan of Skull, and I personally feel that everyone is severely underestimating his worth. I mean, he's an Arcobaleno, the seventh most strongest who are selected to be the holders of the pacifiers. So now… In the kingdom of fanfic… I shall make him powerful! Buahhahaahaha!

[1] The reason why I chose a Panther for Harry's animagus form, is because of the meanings behind the animal. Black Panther is the symbol of the death and rebirth, understanding of death, ability to know the dark, and aggressiveness. They are graceful, silent, and generally loners – extremely comfortable with themselves and are often drawn to other solitary people.

You all can vote who you want Harry/Skull to be paired with. One person per vote only though! I personally prefer to have no threesomes or harems. I am a person who dislikes any form of cheating or 'playing around'. One person to devote to is enough in my eyes.

Story recommendation for today: Skull de Mort: Stuntman, Arcobaleno, Wizard! By Love-is-Cyanide. I was inspired by this story. Harry left the Wizarding world after the war, and went to Italy – became a stuntman. He's immortal, so he has no problem with riding his bike dangerously. Even though Harry became Skull, and was stronger than the others, he was considered the Lackey because… of a misunderstanding at first. He thought that Reborn had used Magic to change his chameleon to a gun, so he had freaked out. Reborn thought that Skull was afraid of being shot, and proclaimed him the Lackey! It's a great story, so read it! I'm unsure if it's Slash though.

Rainbows and Meat Lovers,
GenderlessPerson