I'm truly sorry for the time that it took me to write this but as I already said in the last chapter, writing it got me so 'meh' that I had to step down for a bit. But here I am with a new chapter full of angst and humor. Yeah, I surpassed myself this time.

Also, seems like a lot of people didn't quite understand what happened in the last chapter. I have to admit that there was a lot going on. For now, the only thing you need to know is that Harry and Mukuro had a fight, Tsuna wants Iemitsu's death, Sugar Lips is amazing, Bermuda didn't appear in a lot of chapters, there is a man with white hair and no name who's stalking Harry and finally, that white haired man was there when Harry died.

That's it, that's all you need to know. And now, I'll let you read this chapter.

Their first meet had been quite an inconspicuous thing.

Matsuda Shuu had been busy arguing with the director of a popular anime, asking to postpone the recording and voicing session for another week as his voice actor was down with the flu, when he had to take a step to his right as another manager was passing in the corridor.

He had acquiesced when he had met the man's eyes as they were colleagues and promptly went back to his arguing, his dark eyes narrowing when the director refused to postpone the recording. Then, just as he was ready to pass to his plan B (also known as discreetly threatening the annoying director), the young manager had noticed that his colleague had been walking with two people who he had never met before in the building. But Matsuda pushed those thoughts aside and willed himself to keep calm while he continued pressuring the director until the man relented.

Satisfied with the outcome of their deal, Shuu sighed in relief and looked behind him to say goodbye to his colleague when he was met with two wide and emerald green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Matsuda blinked and politely asked when he saw that the eyes belonged to a young boy with Eurasian features.

The kid had quite the boyish face, with faintly reddened cheeks and long eyelashes that caressed his cheekbones whenever he blinked. Not that the boy blinked much as he was intently staring at the manager.

"Yes," the boy chirped in an overly happy voice.

Shuu almost shuddered when he heard the voice. If was similar to the sugary voices that the voice actors used in the shoujo anime whenever a sweet kid featured in it.

"I'm lost," the boy added and the manager rolled his eyes.

Who was the idiot who let the poor boy wander in the building?

Matsuda refrained from sighing out loud but that didn't mean that he wasn't annoyed at his colleagues' error. However, he didn't take it on the poor kid and sternly nodded.

"Who's your accompanist?" he asked with a calm voice.

Or rather with his deadpan voice, Matsuda had been told multiple times that his voice was similar to a droning math teacher, even when he was happy. Not that he minded, his voice could also turn frigidly cold and was really useful whenever his protégés were being total idiots and refused to listen to him.

"I don't have one," the kid answered with a shrug. "But I could need one later."

His green eyes briefly sparkled in the corridor dim light and Matsuda felt a shiver run over his back. For a brief moment, he had thought that the kid was actually an adult and was looking at him with mirth. Except that it was totally impossible.

But Matsuda shrugged that thought off. It was impossible and as such, it hadn't happened.

"Then why are you here?"

The kid pursed his lips and with a small finger beckoned him closer.

"The fact is," he whispered in a disgustingly seductive voice, "I'm Fishcake's voice actor's accompanist."

Not questioning why a boy no mere ten years old was the accompanist, Matsuda promptly told him where the Fishcake's studio was and left the corridor with goosebumps all over his skin. That didn't impede him from hearing the boy's parting words though, even if he had wished he didn't.

"Nice pair of buns," the kid had said just as Matsuda was turning his back to him and readying himself for a long ride in the subway.

The manager's steps faltered and he slowly blinked. Then, when his heartbeat was under his habitual control, the adult looked at the kid from over his shoulder and furrowed his brows. The boy was beaming at him, his teeth flashing under the electric light and his green eyes hidden behind his closed eyelids.

Had he really said something like that?

Matsuda shook that thought away. It was impossible that such a young boy could say something like that so it hadn't happened. The adult nodded to himself and left the building, not noticing that the grinning kid had opened his eyes to watch him leave.

And that his green eyes had an ominous sparkle in them.

[...]

Their second meeting happened like the first.

Matsuda had been talking with someone, this time the voice actor he managed, and had to move to let someone pass. That someone had been another manager and, as it was something totally normal that happened everyday, he didn't think much of it. So he didn't dwell on it and continued talking (or rather chiding) with the voice actor.

That is until he felt someone tug at his shirt.

The fact is Matsuda Shuu hates when someone disturbs him, no matter how important whatever they have to say is. He just hates it.

Thus, this explains why he downright glared daggers at whoever had dared disturb him from an uninteresting talk about fish sticks.

"What," he growled like the living reincarnation of Hades and Satan's spawn. Yes, it was that scary and devilish.

But his anger quickly dissolved into disbelief when he saw those familiar emerald orbs and that beaming smile.

"Hello," the kid sparkled (there was no other word to depict how he just smiled and threw sparkles all around). "It's awesome to see you again!"

Matsuda pursed his lips and sternly nodded. Even if he was called a heartless bastard by a lot of people, he wasn't someone who liked to screams at children. Even more when those children had just wanted to greet him. So he swiftly pushed his anger in a dark corner of his mind and thinly smiled at the kid.

"Same here," the manager commented in his habitual cold voice. "It is quite the surprise to see you again. Are you also the Fishcake's voice actor accompanist this time?"

The kid's eyes gleamed with happiness and he nodded vividly while his smile widened even more. Matsuda didn't know that it was possible to smile so much.

"Yup!" the boy exclaimed cheerily. "His manager resigned yesterday so we're here to meet to new one!"

"He resigned?" Matsuda muttered with a puzzled face.

From what he had heard during one of their drinking nights, that voice actor voiced a main character, no manager would want to resign from managing someone like that.

"Yup!" the kid nodded and smirked. "He couldn't take it anymore..."

"Take it anymore," the manager stated as he raised an eyebrow.

The boy's smirk widened until it became a wide cocky grin.

"Managing Lambo in the studio isn't enough," he answered in a soft voice while his eyes told another story to the adult. They were full of mirth and mysterious amusement. "Someone unafraid of action and explosions is needed. Someone who can put their foot down whenever the things go messy. Someone who, if Lambo's pillar gets missing, can become his pillar. You get it?"

Matsuda pursed his lips and slightly cocked his head.

"That Lambo fellow sounds like quite a hassle," he commented with a pensive tone. "I wouldn't want to manage him..."

The green eyed kid blinked and suddenly began to chuckle.

"He can be," he admitted between his fit of chuckles, "but he's a really sweet boy. You'll love him, Sweet Buns!"

And that being said, the boy left with a cackle. Matsuda didn't try to stop him, he still had his voice actor to talk with. But his mind was elsewhere, still whirling about the fact that the kid, no more than ten years old maybe, had called him (Him! An adult of twenty-five years old and with a stern looking face that made babies cry in the streets) something as horrific as "Sweet Buns".

And he didn't even know his name.

Matsuda clicked his tongue in annoyance and swore to himself that by the next time he met the kid, he would get his name and a harassment order against him.

[...]

Standing in front of the headstone, Matsuda Shuu shuddered and rubbed his arms to fight the goosebumps creeping over them. He sighed, feeling his breath catch in his throat when he saw that the dead had been no more than twelve when his life had ended, and slowly shook his head.

His black hair, habitually pushed back by gel, fell all over his forehead and he had to puff a little so none of his locks fell over his eyes. But that didn't matter to him right now and his attention went back to the offerings in front of the headstone.

There were a lot of unusual things there. Fish of example. Or even knives. But it didn't really surprise the manager as the dead had been quite the unusual fellow. What with his harassing of a grown man or his habitual spurts of madness about his charge's cuteness.

That reminded him of his protégé and Matsuda glanced at the shivering little boy kneeling in front of the headstone. From what the manager could see, he knew that the kid was silently crying, his face hidden behind his bandaged hands, and just as silently accusing himself of that sudden loss.

To be quite honest, Matsuda Shuu wasn't really someone that came to your mind when you thought about looking for comfort. But here he was, in front of a dead boy's grave, and about to kneel next to the crying boy just so he could know that he wasn't alone. The adult grimly knelt next to his protégé and, after hesitating for a good ten minutes, softly put a hand over the kid's shoulder. The latter tensed, his whole little body shuddering, before a low whine came out of his throat.

"It's Lambo's fault!" the kid suddenly screeched before he began to bawl his eyes out.

"It isn't," Matsuda stated quietly.

That was enough to cut Lambo right in the middle of a gross sob, mucus dripping all over his face.

"It is!" the little boy insisted loudly.

"No," the adult retorted just as calmly as if he was talking about the bad weather they were having lately. "He died from a heart attack. You didn't do anything to cause that."

"But I could have stopped it!" Lambo insisted.

"How?" Matsuda inquired with a small frown.

The kid opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it as he couldn't find a good answer.

"That's right," the adult sighed as he slowly stood. He stretched a hand to the boy and did his best to give him a comforting smile. (It was closer to a disdainful smirk though) "He always said that if something were to happen to him, I would be the one to manage you."

"Manage?" Lambo slowly furrowed his brows and glanced at the stretched hand with distrustful eyes.

"That's right," the adult repeated as he thought about the mail that Naruhoudou Mitsuki, the dead boy's adoptive father, had sent him that morning. It had just said something about finding the dead's will and that there was a letter for him. Matsuda knew what it would say, the boy had already told him in their third meeting. "I'm going to stay by your side, no matter what happens."

The kid sniffed. Loudly. And quickly went back to bawling his eyes out.

"I miss him!" he screamed as he hid his face on the adult's fine shirt.

Matsuda ignored how the mucus was slowly seeping through his best shirt and hesitantly patted the kid's hair.

"I know," he muttered in the boy's ruffled hair. A faint memory of the dead's emerald eyes passed swiftly through his mind and he gritted his teeth as he felt his throat tighten. "Who doesn't?"

(...)

(...)

So he died. Again. For the third time in his (no)life. This was getting repetitive. And Harry James Potter hated repetitiveness.

When he came to his senses, the wizard noticed that he was lying, naked, on a cold surface. He wearily opened his eyes and frowned when the only thing he saw was halogens lamps. And a very familiar ceiling.

Harry swiftly sat on the ice cold floor, his bottom protesting quietly over the sudden coldness, and glanced around him. Like he had thought, he was back to the eerie King's Cross station. Everything was as clean as ever and that just didn't settle right with Harry. He looked around him for his clothes and quickly found them, neatly folded and on one of the orange plastic seats. He put them on and, once he finally felt decent, waited for Dumbledore.

As he had expected, faint footsteps echoed in the empty station and the wizard calmly waited on the floor, his fingers thrumming lightly the flagstones. But the one who came to him wasn't Dumbledore.

In fact, it wasn't even someone that Harry knew and that gave him goosebumps.

It was a moving and breathing mist of dark fumes, swirling and rumbling without ever stopping. It was the grossest and scariest thing Harry had ever seen. And that was something to say as he had fought against Voldie-shorts, Dementors and seen Jagger's little soldier. (That had been just gross)

Harry quickly scattered away, not even taking the time to stand on his feet and just crawling like a desperate cockroach (yes, it was that unpretty and disgusting), until his back hit a wall. And there he was, the proud Survivor of the Wizarding world, the proud father of Mukuro Rokudo, the man-child who had made the proud Xanxus Di Vongola his bitch, shivering and shaking against a wall while a thundering mist was threateningly approaching him.

For a brief moment, Harry forgot about his irrational fear of the swirling black mist and wondered if Death could be it. Maybe the Reaper had had enough of Harry playing around and never really dying. The wizard could understand it, the being tried to do its job and Harry always evaded its clutches.

But he quickly forgot about that idea, the black mist was giving him a malevolent vibe. And from what Harry had understood of the Tale of the Three Brothers, Death was a neutral being.

So it could only mean one thing. That being, that black mist, was an evil thing. Maybe it was the same thing that had killed him.

Because Harry had been killed. Clearly. And it hadn't been the man who had been talking with him when it had happened who did it. Because that man needed him alive. Or rather, they both needed each other to achieve their goals. Therefore, they could kill each other, not until everything had ended.

Thus, this explained why Harry was puzzled (and terrified) about the mist's presence in the eerie station when Dumbledore wasn't even there.

A sudden growl coming from the swirling blackness shook him from his meditations and Harry tensed when he noticed that the mist was now surrounding him and had hid the King's Cross station away from his eyes. He could only see darkness and he could only hear those threatening growls that slowly morphed into shrilly screams of pain. Harry felt his hair flow around him as a wind that he couldn't feel ruffled it.

And just as suddenly, the mist began to pull at his limbs, stretching them until he could only writhe in inhuman pain, his teeth clenched to muffle his screams. His fleshes dissolved into nothingness and he felt his raw muscles tingle as unnatural hands began to pinch and stretch them.

It was just the grossest and most painful thing that he had ever endured. And he had tasted quite a lot of Cruciatus in his days.

A sudden sound echoed around him and just as suddenly, Harry felt himself breathe again, his skin back on his tingling body and his lips stretched into a hurt snarl.

"Well, well, well," heard Harry and the disdainful voice actually hurt his extremely sensitive ears. "What do we have here..."

He didn't move from his spot and stayed with his eyes closed. From the coldness that he could feel seeping all around his body, he deduced that he was naked and laying over a rock. Also, his whole body tingled and the little wind he could feel over his body felt as if it was scorching his skin. In fact, everything was too painful and Harry did his best to not sob like a little kid howling for his mom. Once again, let me tell you that it was painful. A lot.

"Welcome back amongst the living, Potter," the voice added and this time Harry flinched.

His muddled brain felt as if he knew that voice. Harry slowly tried to open his eyes and flinched another time when the small action gave him a sharp pain. Everything felt just so brand new and hurtful. But the wizard quickly forgot about that when he finally saw who had been talking to him. And realized what has really happened to him.

"Of bloody course," the wizard muttered and the act of talking felt as if he had swallowed a lot of pins and needles. "It had to be you..."

"Once again," the annoying little shit who had killed and invoked him said with a mirthful smirk. "Welcome back amongst the living, Potter."

(...)

(...)

Reborn pursed his lips and glared at his cup of coffee. The poor cup hadn't done anything wrong, it was full of delicious coffee but the baby wasn't going to drink it. He was more inclined to throw it at the next idiot who dared to disturb him from his thoughts. And what thoughts they were!

Since the boy had died a lot had changed in Namimori. And by a lot, he meant a tremendous lot.

Yamamoto Takeshi had gone in a swordsmanship training with the resuscitated Squalo, arguing that the dead boy would have loved to see him work his sword until he was sweating. Reborn was afraid to admit that the dead would have said that, and seriously too.

Sasagawa Ryohei hadn't spent more time with the Vongola. It seemed that the boy's death had been enough to scare away the fiery boxer and the latter had stopped being so extreme, preferring to spend more time with his family.

Lambo Bovino as well had left. Well, he still lived with the Sawada but it was all until his new caretaker, a poker faced man who didn't want anything to do with the mafia, found a new house with two bedrooms near a good preschool. The man hadn't liked to hear that Lambo wasn't going to preschool and had all but lashed out at Nana. Strangely, the housewife hadn't taken out her cheese grate and had accepted the kid's adoption because it had been one of the dead boy's will.

Gokudera Hayato had left as well Namimori to be under Naruhoudou and Mitsurugi's tutelage. And every time that someone dared to imply that he had been adopted by a homosexual couple, Gokudera always was pleased to use his dynamite to show what he thought of such an opinion. Truthfully, he was living with them just so he could learn more about law in the mafia and in the normal world. A real right hand man could always back his boss whenever the latter had some problems with the justice.

And that last fact reminded Reborn of his pupil. Sawada Tsunayoshi, formerly known as Dame-Tsuna or No Good-Tsuna and now known as Holy-Shit-He's-Worse-Than-Hibari-Tsuna. Since that unexpected death, the teenager had totally changed. He had gone from his wimpy self to a ruthless fighter. Or at least, he was one whenever the Vongola were concerned. (He still couldn't get a score above 50 in his tests)

Since he had declared to his father that he was going to destroy the Vongola, a lot of people had tried to defeat him just so they could become the new Decimo. Not that Tsuna let them as he was dead set on his decision.

He was going to destroy the Vongola. And Reborn knew that the boy would succeed.

Like he knew that the teenager's guardians would back him up. Each and every of them, even the missing Rokudo Mukuro.

The latter had vanished from their sights, refused to talk to Chrome and nobody dared to go to Vendicare to check if he was still there. To be quite honest, Reborn was a little worried about the illusionist. The teenager had said that he didn't want anything to do with the dead boy and hadn't even gone to his burial. But Reborn knew, like he knew that Tsuna still accused himself of the boy's death at night, that Lambo still froze whenever he was asked to voice Fishcake because it had been his favorite character, that Gokudera had insisted to live with Naruhoudou to make sure that the lawyer would be fine after losing his son for the second time and that Varia still sent some goods to the boy's grave. He knew that like everyone else, Mukuro dearly missed the boy. Hell, even Reborn did!

The arcobaleno sighed and glanced this time at the laptop screen. The mail sent by Naru was still there, with those words written for him by a dead boy.

「In case I were to die before I finished conquering the whole world:」

Reborn scrolled down and snorted lightly.

Of course, that idiot brat had to have a backup plan to annoy to death everyone even if he was dead. But, well, Reborn didn't see why he shouldn't follow the boy's will. It promised to be funny too. And the cursed baby was impatient to see Iemitsu's shocked face when the plan would be revealed and the mastermind behind it unveiled.

[...]

Bermuda smacked his lips in a loud pop and tsk-ed when he saw the Sun arcobaleno close the laptop while cackling evilly. The Vendice Boss cocked his head and glanced at his trusty friend Jagger. The latter was standing behind him, looking as well at the screen and observing how everyone still continued living when the boy had died.

"Did you get the footage?" Bermuda asked after a little while.

Jagger shifted a bit and shook his head. Even if they had been looking everywhere for suspects and witnesses, they hadn't found anything. It seemed that the boy had died all alone on a rooftop.

Bermuda refused to believe something like that. He knew that the boy was strong and cunning. Like hell he would have died like a junkyard dog. The boy was better than that.

The bandaged baby pursed his lips and lightly thrummed his fingers on his oak desk.

"Is that so," he commented in a light voice. "Call Mukuro-kun. We need to talk."

Jagger nodded and left the room in silence.

[...]

Mukuro clenched his fists on the fabric of his trousers and he took a deep breath. He could faintly hear Chrome's voice pleading him to answer her but he didn't answer her. He could also hear his heart beating loudly in his ears and the blood rushing in his veins. In fact, his whole body felt extremely alive and all since His death. The place in his mind where he had been connected to Him was still gaping open, a hole to nothingness and also a confirmation to His death.

Mukuro hated it. He hated the fact that he had died before he could even have a long talk with him, find out why he had killed Ken and Chikusa, slap him for doing so and finally make peace with him.

But it was stupid to dwell on those thoughts, Harry, his good for nothing adoptive father was dead and he didn't know what had killed him. Because the explanation that the authorities had given him, saying that it had been a cardiac arrest, didn't settle right with him. The boy had been way too young to die from that. So it could only mean that someone from the mafia had killed him. It wouldn't surprise Mukuro, his former father figure had been an annoying fly buzzing all over the future Vongola Decimo and the illusionist was pretty sure that the Decimo's father had ordered his death.

Laying on his bed, Mukuro glared at the white ceiling and ignored all the sounds around him (mostly screams of pain coming from the prisoners). He slowly immersed himself into a trance like state where he tried to scheme a plan to cause Sawada Iemitsu's downfall when he heard a sudden ping coming from his desk.

The illusionist creaked open an eye and glared at the small laptop on his desk, pursing his lips when he noticed on the lightened screen that it had received a mail. Mukuro reluctantly got up and opened the mail, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the sender's name.

What could Naruhoudou want from him?

Even if they were technically family thanks to all those adoptions, Mukuro hadn't had that much interactions with his adoptive grandfather. Now that he thought about it, the only time they had talked had been in Vendicare.

Intrigued by the mail, Mukuro began to read it and felt his heart stop for a brief moment when he finally saw the title.

「This is totally Harry J. Potter-Naruhoudou's will. If you ignore it, I'll curse you from my grave. So you better follow it.」

Mukuro chuckled and scrolled down. He continued reading until he found his name on the text.

「And for my lovely eldest son, Mukuro: before anything else, I love you. Don't ever doubt it. And finally, the rest of my will is with Ambrogio Nero. Please, listen to everything he has to say, 'kay?」

The illusionist furrowed his brows and quickly invoked his trident before he vanished into tiny wisps of indigo mist. Just as he did so, the door of his bedroom opened and Jagger passed his head by the opening. The Vendice frowned under his bandages and slowly went back to Bermuda's side. The baby wouldn't like to know that Mukuro had fled.

At all.

(...)

(...)

"What the fuck," Harry groaned before he winced because talking was still too much for his sensible throat. "What the actual fuck, Malfoy!"

"Same here, Potter," the old geezer with white hair falling into greasy locks over his emaciated face retorted with disgust. "I expected more gratitude from your part, I did resuscitate you, you ungrateful prick..."

"Yeah, right," the dark haired wizard snorted and he quickly cupped his nose before breathing through it had hurt like a bitch. "I feel like I'm dying here so you obviously didn't do a good job..."

"Well sorry," Draco Malfoy hissed as he rolled his eyes. "Necromancy isn't the easiest form of magic, you know? Not that you know as you have the emptiest brain ever, Potter..."

"Emptiest brain ever? Please," Harry huffed as he shrugged (and almost shrilled because he felt as if his shoulders had dislocated from the action), "Is that your best insult? Merlin, I pity you, Malfoy..."

"Could you stop whining like a little bitch, Potter?" Malfoy retorted suavely as his eyebrows ticked from annoyance. (Yeah, Harry still had it in him, annoying Malfoy to death when he had just been resuscitated) "I bloody made you come back from the dead and that's how you thank me?"

"Well, just so you know, I was perfectly happy there!" Harry hissed angrily.

"You were fucking decomposing and being eaten by worms!" Draco shouted as a vein began to pulse on his forehead.

Harry smirked. From what he could see of Malfoy, the prick was old, older than Dumbledore before he died, and if he continued riling him, he would probably end up having a cardiac arrest. Harry had never liked karma as much as he did now.

"Doesn't matter," the black haired wizard added while his smirk widened when he saw the vein pulse even faster on Malfoy's forehead. "I didn't have to see your ugly face!"

Malfoy let out an unarticulated scream of anger and stormed out of what seemed to be a basement.

"MERLIN, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" Harry heard him shout as he stomped the stairs up. "GO DOWN AND DO WHATEVER YOU WANTED TO DO WITH HIM, BRAT! BUT DON'T DISTURB ME WITH THAT STINKY LITTLE SHIT!"

"Merlin," Harry muttered to himself, "he's still going on with his 'Potter stinks'..."

But he quickly forgot about that and began to check himself out. From what he could see in the faint light produced by floating candles, he was indeed naked. And his skin had a really gross bluish white color. Indeed, he looked like a corpse. Harry stretched his limbs and ignored the incredible pain. Now that he knew that he had been invoked by Malfoy (who had become a Necromancer. What the hell...), Harry finally understood why he was in such a pain.

And if his inkling was right, why he had had so many attacks back in the other side. Malfoy had probably been trying a lot of time to raise him from the dead. The former times, Harry had been in the right state to push away the wizard's powers. But last night had been different, he had been quite shaken up by Mukuro's revelations.

"Well," Harry sighed as he sat on the ice cold rock. "This couldn't be worse."

He heard faint footsteps coming down the stairs and readied himself for whoever had asked Malfoy to rise him from the dead. (He was pretty sure that the Pureblood would never have done it if there wasn't someone paying a fortune to him to do so)

And then, just as someone finally came into the basement and their face lightened into a delighted smile, Harry realized who could have been stupid enough to use Necromancy to call him from the other side.

"Master Harry!" the young man with that damned smile squealed (yes, he squealed) in happiness. "You're back!"

'Well, fuck me,' the dark haired wizard thought. 'It got worse...'

"Angel," Harry coldly greeted back.

Aaaaand... CUT! The chapter ends, as always, in a cliffhanger and I'll answer the anons now.

ForeverFox13: I live for cliffhangers and angst. Yet I write humor. How strange of me.

Guest: well, English isn't my first language either so it's okay. Ken and Chikusa are indeed missing and it caused Mukuro's wrath, but everything is going to be okay. It must.

Guest: don't cry, don't cry! Everything is going to be alright! I promise it!

Guest: A lot of things happened but some of them will be explained. And other will remain unsolved until the very last arc.

ame-ii: welcome back! Well, the story began with Harry's death. It would only be logical if it ended with his death too. But the story didn't end so everything is going to be okay.

Okay, so the chapter ends here. I'll have the next one ready whenever I have time to write it (college will soon restart and I'm in my last year so... Not so sure about that) Reviews are welcomed with open arms even more when it's to point an error (I know that they are some) or something that doesn't make sense.