I. Beginning

Harriet had always been an odd child.

She'd always been calm, too calm, for a child of her age.

Too mature, too intelligent, too understanding, for someone who'd never set foot into the real world.

And inexplicable things occurred around her. Unintentional incidents she couldn't control - appearing on the school roof, dying the teacher's hair blue, or shrinking Dudley's old hand-me-downs - and things she could do intentionally. But no one else knew the difference, except for the small raven-haired girl with the bright, but yet so deep, emerald eyes.

The one time she'd willed her hair to grow back after a particularly vicious hacking from Aunt Petunia, imagining the curly raven ringlets she had before down to the last detail. It was the last time Aunt Petunia had touched her hair.

And when she was trapped in between a dead-end and Dudley's gang, she'd screwed her eyes shut and hoped that something would lure them away. When she heard their yells fading, she'd opened them again, and spotted a frighteningly similar girl running in front of the pack of boys, leading them in the opposite direction.

She'd been locked in the cupboard for an entire week following that incident, but seeing Dudley turn into a half embarrassed, half angry eggplant made the punishment worth it.

She'd just appreciated things as they are back then, not really considering the hows and the whats.

Then, with that one fateful encounter with a giant in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and she thought she'd finally found the answer.

II. Encounter

The thought of extraordinary occurrences fell to the back of her mind the moment she first laid eyes on the magnificent castle from her seat in the rickety boat. There was no room for what had happened before, as it was all she can do to continue living in the now.

The enchanted ceiling hypnotized her, a million stars twinkled merrily at her, so similar yet different to the gaze of the wizened headmaster. And the moment all eyes in the Great Hall focused on her small figure - she knew she was short, so shut it - she almost flinched, but steeled her nerves and walked proudly to the battered old hat, as if she was the only one existing in that moment.

Her courage - she'd wondered where the hat got that from - earned her a spot in noble Gryffindor, the House of the Brave, and it deserved capital letters with the way Ron announced it - loudly and rather obnoxious too - to the world. The cheers which lasted for almost an entire minute after her sorting damaged her already suffering ears - no thanks to Ron or Malfoy or that bushy haired girl - and she smiled tiredly as she collapsed onto the bench.

And glanced into the dark pools of a greasy haired professor. They just sat there, as if time had frozen, and in those pools, Harriet found inexplicable grief, and burning hatred. And suddenly, there was the faintest brush of something, foreign and hostile, against her mind. So Harriet imagined walls of fire bursting into life, and raised an eyebrow in challenge as she saw the man flinch back.

That night in the common room, she was bombarded with questions and praises of things she had no answer to. Worn out after the feast, and with her patience down to its last dregs, she smiled a sickly sweet smile which didn't reach her eyes.

"Pay me."

And in the stunned silence that followed, she strode up into the girl's dorms, threw on her pajamas, and was off into dreamland before her dorm mates' stumbling footsteps even reached the door.

That night, she dreamed of indigo flames flickering around her, but always just out of reach, dispersing the moment her fingertips reached for the warmth.

III. Realization

Harriet smiled tiredly at Hermione, her dorm mate who first approached her in curiosity but never left. After all, no matter how much distance she tried to maintain, people could grow on you, much like fungus. Particularly stubborn fungus that couldn't be removed, even with the threat of losing their lives.

"I see sleeping beauty finally awakens, with a kiss from a mandrake plant."

And apparently her joke was not appreciated, with the heavy tome Hermione lugged at her head and the sour glare. She smiled and tilted her head to the side, letting Ron get a close-up view of the previous headmasters of Hogwarts, a History.

"Are you sure you are a princess though? Last time I checked, they didn't throw books at people."

Harriet and Hermione expertly ignored Ron's complaints in the background, and Harriet smiled genuinely, grasping Hermione's hand tightly. She was afraid that the moment she let go, it would become pale and limp, devoid of the energy Hermione possessed on a daily basis.

She heard Ron mutter "bloody violent females" under his breath, so no one would be surprised to find worms in his pillow later. The three of them shared an odd, and violent, friendship, but they were bonded together in a way that nothing could break. It was forged through blood and tears and tempting the reaper, but they'd always pulled through, through sheer stubbornness.

First Quirrell and his creepy parasite, and then a monstrous snake which can kill with its gaze and poison strong enough to kill a man in minutes.

She'd left her friends behind every single time, unable to do anything but watch as they fell down and down.

.

Never again.

IV. Decision

There was one more thing she needed to do.

Just one more, and then this bloodshed would be over, and everything done with. Her friends would be safe, and their children would be able to grow up laughing, free of the troubles which had laid so heavily on their generation.

She'd caught Hermione and Ron at it once, and from that point, she'd vowed to never open a broom closet without knocking ever again. She had no doubt that Hermione would become the Mrs. Weasley for one Ronald, if the emotions she'd glimpsed when they were together were any indication. The first time she'd felt those emotions, she'd gagged, and it was the last time. Hermione's undiscovered talent as a beater had never occurred to her until now, but she'd still been happy that they found each other to rely on.

And then there was clumsy Neville, whose hands could tend to the most delicate of plants, but cause an explosion with the simplest potions. Fred and George, or Forge and Gred, who never failed to cheer her up with their pranks and jokes, laughing and washing away the bitter emotions. And loath as she was to admit it, Malfoy. The arrogant idiot whose ego became a little less swelled, though not by much.

They were the people Harriet would trust with her life, and she left them to complete the final touches.

So she smiled softly, and raised her head proudly as she walked into the snake's den.

.

She regretted nothing.

..

.

Absolutely nothing

.

..

.

(But as Hermione gave her an earful and tackled her in a tearful hug after her miraculous revival, she couldn't help regret the absence of earplugs in the Wizarding World. After all, she wouldn't dare to cast a silencio on a furious dragon.)

V. Remembrance

She hadn't aged.

Rose was two years old, Hugo had been born, and Teddy was going to enter his first year of Hogwarts.

She was 28, but she looked the same as she did a decade ago, and people had started to whisper. The tabloids hinted at her using dark magic to keep herself forever young, and suspicious glances were shot at her wherever she passed through the streets.

Her friends knew better than to listen to the poisonous articles, but they worried. She'd resigned from her post in the Auror Division, and now spent her time researching the Hollows.

Then, in a journal with brittle worn pages, she found her answer.

The one who gathers the three shall never rest, as the blade of the reaper still cleaves.

So, she left.

It was a selfish decision - every single newspaper in Britain blazed out the news of her disappearance as their headline for a month at the very least, but by that time she was long gone. She moved into one of the small cottages in a secluded part of France, and waited out the storm.

And suddenly, one night, the dreams returned.

Dreams of indigo flames taunting her, as if daring her. They flickered around her, forming images of her childhood, of things which had earned her the scorn of Aunt Petunia.

She remembered.

The warmth. The comforting presence. The things which she thought had been accidental magic but now realized wasn't.

So when she woke up with a smile on her lips, she welcomed back an old friend as she stared at the flame flickering softly on the Resurrection Stone.

.

...

..

Thank you.

DISCLAIMER - I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn, or Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form.

Author's Note: So sorry people! School has literally murdered me. Not fun, certainly not fun. Anyways, I'll update my other stories soon... probably. (Currently in process of thinking up a new plot for When the shadows remember, so be patient with me please!)

This was inspired by the fact that Viper/Mammon is an ESPer, which pretty much equals a wizard. (In my opinion, of course.) And experimentation with a completely new writing style, since I can't write long chapters anyways...

But this chapter was like a prologue, and I think I'll write it in normal format after this, unless you guys want to keep it this way?