Author's note!

Ok, So! I am supposed to be working on any one of three worm fics atm... that said my muse has kinda been rebelling against me lately and only wanting to work on stories I'm writing in the third person. Why? Not a single fucking clue. What I do know is that it's been way to long since I posted anything even though I've been writing the whole time, even if only in bits and spurts. This has been the primary culprit of my distraction, though The Grimm Queen has taken a bit of my attention as well. This is a, as far as I can tell, unique spin on HP KHR crossovers where I have vague plans to blow off a lot of shit from the KHR that I either don't remember or thought was stupid, and then drag things in the general direction of HP.

I will admit that the idea that pushed me to write this is that no one has explored combining flame attributes for new and awesome effects. Now I wanted to combine mist and cloud because dear lord the possibilities, (PM me if you want my ideas and will do something with them) but I honestly do not understand the mechanics of cloud illusions. Sometimes they are real sometimes they are not, sometime they convince people's perceptions that they are real... it gives me too much of a headache to sort out.

I will also freely admit I'm drawing inspiration from a couple of Harry Potter Starwars crossovers... I don't actually remember the title of the main one, and I think I stopped following it once the author had Voldemort summon a demon. Or it could have been Harry Tano by TheBeardedOne... Point is the concept of using runes on electric fanblades to convert electrical energy into kinetic energy into magical energy and then using that to power runes which do things like make a hover board float? I can use that in all kinds of fun ways and Harry needs a flying motorcycle... or a speeder bike with a mounted machine gun, whichever.

Honestly this is so far from what I normally write, that I'm not sure how well it came out. I love the potential power uses, and fun weapon ideas I'm coming up with, but it is unfamiliar territory for me. So don't forget to leave reviews, I really need the feedback.

OH! Almost forgot. I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Thundercloud 1

Harry stared in abject horror at the mangy looking stray cat lying limp on the ground. He didn't recognize the boy responsible which meant he was a new addition to Dudley's gang. More importantly he was trying to prove himself to be tougher than the rest, to put himself at the head of the pack. And he'd done it by beating on an old stray with a stick until he had broken the poor things neck.

And Harry was the only witness outside of Dudley's gang.

For just a moment Harry saw the boy blanch before throwing up a mask of indifference. The boy obviously didn't want his effort to go to waste by throwing up now.

The other boys all shifted nervously. This was a step above their usual cruelty, but none of them were willing to show weakness in front of the others. Then, inevitably, eyes shifted to Dudley in search of guidance.

Dudley was not the brightest of boys but he did understand, on an instinctual level, that he needed to do something or he would lose face maybe even lose control of his little group. So, he swallowed his uncertainty and did what he always did when he needed to solidify his position. He looked for a victim.

Harry Potter age nine saw the moment his cousin caught sight of him. He could imagine the gears slowly turning in his cousin's mind and started to turn to run even as his cousin opened his mouth.

"It's the freak! Get him before he tells someone!"

Harry was off like a shot. The shouts of his pursuers following him as he races through the park. He ran and ran with Dudley's gang hot on his heels. He knew he could get away though. Harry was fast and he had escaped from them often enough before. He would do it again.

And then he tripped, and they were on him; kicking him, punching him, shouting at him. All Harry can think of is the cat they had killed. Its neck twisted oddly, and how he himself would look with his head bent similarly, with wide lifeless eyes.

Harry in that moment can only think that he does not want to die. He wishes, he regrets, that no one has ever seen him for who he is instead of seeing a freak. He regrets that his life has been limited to a pitiful town and a confining cupboard when there is so much more out there to see.

Something in Harry snaps. Green flames erupt from his skin and cover his body. The flames spark and crackle with electricity shocking his attackers, and sending them stumbling back. The flames seem to flow and condense around his head before diving into his scar which splits open, emitting black puss and smoke that screams, until the green fire consumes it. Harry screams with it because it hurts like nothing he has ever felt before.

The flames seem to flow through his blood. He can feel it warming him, strengthening him, but even as it does he can feel the fire feeding on something inside him, growing more powerful more chaotic until the heat has spread through his whole body, and the flames burst out once more. This time a swirl of green and purple. The heat and smell of ozone spike as the flames and the electricity that had been rolling off his body surge out in every direction. The surges of electricity seem to double in size wherever the two flames meet bursting out like miniature lightning bolts.

Then, as quickly as they appeared, the flames guttered out. Harry felt exhausted. Whatever had just happened had drained him beyond the ability to stand. In short order his eyes flickered shut.

{}{}{}{}

Harry fought his way back to consciousness only to find himself in an unfamiliar white room. It seemed a bit like a hospital, but there were differences. The room was too large for one. It was a long open room with maybe a dozen or so beds. There were a few paintings on the walls, mostly of horses, as well. It gave the room a homier feel.

"Ah, finally awake?"

Harry whipped his head to the side. His eyes locked onto a tall, thin man, who looked to be in his sixties, with wavy blond hair. The man is dressed in a pristine suit with a book resting in his lap. The man eyes Harry with a cold calculating interest. It was not cruel or unkind, just, not warm.

"You are lucky one of my men happened to be in England for a job." He states calmly, in lightly accented English. "You could have found yourself in quite the difficult situation otherwise. After all, it's not easy to explain how you electrocuted six boys to death on a cloudless day far from any power lines."

Harry's eyes grow wide.

Killed. He had killed them. Harry feels sick to his stomach, but he can't help but remember the sight of the dead cat, and the certainty that they would have killed him. His emotions swirl and spiral through him. He's crying, but not sobbing. He learned long ago to cry silently.

The man looks on impassively, but notes the flash of green and purple from Harry's eyes. His subordinate had been correct. Two flame types; Lightning and Cloud. Both powerful, but untrained, freshly awakened even. Looking at Harry all he can see is potential. It's raw, but it's there. Already he can see Harry coming to grips with the fact he killed the other boys. He's a survivor, someone who will push on. Oh, no doubt he'll struggle and stumble with this, but the man could already see he would make it through.

He respects that, more importantly he can use that.

His son will need guardians, and even if the two didn't bond, bringing a child with this much potential into the family would still be worth it. He would need a new name, and they would have to find out if he had any unique talents, but that could always be arranged. Training might be a bit more difficult. His family's power came primarily from numbers, but there were a few flame actives he could learn from.

"Kid." The man spoke slowly making sure he had Harry's attention now that the tears had slowed. "I'm the Boss of the Chiavarone family. It's a mafia family. Do you know anything about the mafia?"

Harry just shook his head causing the now named Mr. Chiavarone to purse his lips.

"Mafia is organized crime." He states plainly. "The strongest members of the mafia use this." A bit of orange flame flickers into existence from the ring on his hand. "The flames of the dying will. You've got them, it's how you killed those kids. You've got potential, I want to make you part of my family."

Harry's head is spinning. He's a killer, he's in the house of a crime boss, and the man can call fire out of thin air. He himself had apparently done the same, could do the same. It was, it was, freakish.

And just like that pieces fell into place for young Harry Potter. All the freakishness his Aunt and Uncle talked about must have been these flames Mr. Chiavarone used! His parents had been freaks meaning they could use them too! His parents weren't drunks, they were mafia! There was no car crash, they'd just been, been killed off by some other gang! It all made sense to him now. He was the child of English mafia, and now he's found his way back to his roots!

More than that, this man wanted him. Wanted Harry Potter, useless freak, to join his family. Maybe it's not exactly what he wanted when he hoped to someday be taken from the Dursley's to a real family, but it was close enough!

With newfound determination, his eyes lit from within, the left a stayed green, but took on a powerful glow. The right glowed just as brightly, but in purple. His parents had been mafia, so he would be too. He would be the best he could be and make them proud! He would make sure Mr. Chiavarone didn't regret making him part of his family!

"Teach me."

Don Chiavarone smirked at the conviction in Harry's eyes. He wasn't sure what had sparked it, but he planned to make full use of it.

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