AN: This is my first attempt at this crossover, so if this isn't too good, I apologize. I'm currently watching episodes of Katekyo Hitman Reborn, so hopefully my next few stories in this crossover will be better and more accurate. Most of what I know comes from fanfictions and what I looked up online. And though this is a one-shot for now, I MAY CONTINUE IT! So enjoy!

Purple Clouds

Harry was going to die.

The boy had had that thought so many times in the fourteen years of his life that any normal person would have a heart attack.

First it was his...delightful relatives and their...wonderful treatment of him. Before his eleventh birthday, Harry had been sure that his Uncle with his heavy fists or Dudley with his Harry-Hunting would be his death; no child should've or could've been expected to live in such a household.

When Hagrid came and told him of magic, Harry had thought he'd gotten freedom. Nothing to chain him, control him.

How naive, Harry now knew.

Instead of being worthless, the freak, the unwanted burden, he was Hero, Savior, Boy-Who-Lived. (What a stupid title.) Harry had just moved to a larger, gilded cage.

Something in Harry had screamed in anger and protest, told him to run, be free-even when he found people he would gladly kill or be killed for. He didn't have a territory-Harry had people. Privet Drive was a Sunless, hopeless prison filled with hatred and disgust: Hogwarts wasn't much better.

It was only because of his people, hishishis, that Harry hadn't left and abandoned the Wizarding World yet.

Hermione, that stayed by his side and supported him through every trial that was thrown in his way. Hermione, with her cleverness and vast knowledge that got them into trouble just as much as it saved them.

(Ron proved to be jealous and bigoted-unreliable in times of stress and danger. Harry was hurt but moved on.)

Neville, the late bloomer that carried on despite the looks, the whispers, the disappointment. Neville, the one that comforted Harry when the other magic-users were even crueler than usual and the Golden Boy felt chained.

Luna, who saw things no one could, smiled despite her own pain and the bullying, comforted Harry when things just seemed too much-

Harry relied on them now more than ever.

This damn Tournament, chaining his Magic, his choices- the Warmth, the Fire in Harry shrieked and roared, trying to shred the Magical Contract to pieces despite the many failures.

Most of Hogwarts turned their backs on him, abandoning their Savior and jumping to (untrueuntrueuntrueuntrue!) conclusions.

But his family, they stayed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He faced a dragon now, all horns and teeth and claws, and Harry's magic was useless! He was fourteen, a child still in age, and they all expected him to face a Nesting Mother dragon alone?!

Harry was going to die.

Flames (not like his, warm and comforting, these were weaker and made to only destroy and burn) roared towards his face and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

His wand lay broken (the Horntail's spikes ending it a few minutes into the Task) and useless, unable to serve as anything but kindling; the Dragon Handlers were trying to subdue the Horntail but even with their numbers it wasn't working-!

OhMerlinI'mgoingtodieIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodieIwanttoliveIwanttoliveIWANTTOLIVE!

The Flames inside Harry's soul roared to life, vivid purple and warm and wonderful, twisting into reality at the threat, and the Hungarian Horntail fled, broke its chain and flew away.

Harry turned to the crowd, the traitors and weaklings that refused to help opr shape up, and they all froze in fear. The emerald green eyes were gone, instead as purple as the flames that writhes and flickered around him.

"With my Dying Will!"

The confining, constricting force on his Flames and magic snapped, leaving him free once again. Harry sighed in relief and bliss, his flames dying down until they simply flickered over his skin. Without a backward glance or picking up the Golden Egg that was the focus of this Task, Harry walked back into the tent.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry left the Wizarding world as soon as he told others, his family, and they all decided to go with him. They wouldn't leave their Cloud alone.

They went travelling, never really settling down anywhere. Harry was more at ease than he had ever been before, his Flames flickering happily under his skin. He was no longer chained, bound by expectations no fourteen-year old should have to endure.

Eventually, they ended up in Italy, and that was how they were all sucked into the life of the Mafia.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

They were called Dying Will Flames, apparently. There were different types, each having a specific color of the rainbow. Sky flames were the rarest, colored orange. Cloud Flames, Harry's, were purple. Mist Flames, colored indigo. Sun Flames, which were yellow. Then there was Storm, which were red, Lightning, which were green, and Rain, which were blue. And each had their own special abilities, which made them less versatile than magic.

Harry's Flames were strong, maybe on par with the Arcobaleno Skull. In fact, the two met a couple of times and quickly hit it off, bonding over motorcycles and the feeling of freedom they got while riding one. (Sirius about busted a gut laughing when his godson finally told him where they were, who he'd met, and about the Flames. Figured that his godson would be the one this happened to, Padfoot thought fondly.)

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Of course, Harry could never be held in one place for too long, so he went traveling again, this time on his own. The others stayed in Italy for the time being, looking into other available options other than the Mafia. Harry didn't think they'd find much, but points for trying.

Thanks to his friendship with Skull, Harry decided to go to Japan first. It was interesting, different, and there were Mafia people there as well. Surprisingly, there were quite a number of Active Flame Users. Maybe not as many as expected, but more than Harry had seen so far.

Eventually, Harry ended up in the village of Namimori.

Emerald green met silvery gray, and Hibari Kyoya growled low in his throat, one tonfa poised threateningly.

"What do you want, omnivore?"

Unseen, Harry's Flames dance.