Carry On

“… do with him?” Harry heard as he approached the small brick patio near a large gate. Due to those uttered words, Harry frowned to himself as he slowed. He was still cloaked in the shadows of night, the dazzling lights around the old stone gate kept their area well illuminated against the dark of the night, but the walk up to the gate wasn’t as well lit as possible. If Harry was the tinniest bit closer, he would have been easily visible within the reach of the light.

The gate was closed, but there was a small black limo on the road inside the gate. The stone patio scattered with metal chairs and tables.

Harry spotted Lily and James at the center of the cluster of tables.

Harry wanted to linger, to listen—but bad things have happened to Harry due to hearing incomplete conversations. On his own part, as well as on the part of others. Harry wasn’t in a position to act on bad information (and a preference to not, as well). The consequences for such a thing would be…

Well.

Something he’d rather not think about.

So Harry approached the table, pulled a chair, and sat down with his children. His children looked to him, and without a world Harry placed his wand on the table. Lily gave a sigh. James murmured, “oh, father…”

They didn’t need to hear a reason to understand.

Harry reclined back in to the chilled metal of the chair and spoke, “Liliana asked me to go retrieve my suit from the Arcobaleno.” He decided to lead in to that, and watched the confusion give way to concern.

“Right, the suit… If the traitor gets his hands on that…” James trailed off.

Lily crossed her arms, “but he already had his hands on it.” She paused, and Lily glanced to Harry through her eyelashes, a silent apology on her face in the twist of her lips. “Whatever he could possibly have wanted from it, he should have already gotten it.”

Harry frowned and leaned back at the thought.

That was true.

“I wasn’t wearing my suit when I… returned to consciousness in Frank’s office.” Harry trailed off.

James looked off to the side. “But he gave it back to you?”

Harry slowly nodded, “… he gave me a box full of my, uh, things. And Oodako.” Harry motioned to the lump under his shirt, where Oodako had stuck himself on the walk over to finding Lily. “When I opened the box, one of the first things that I found was the suit. It was… bloody and ripped when I got it.” Harry rubbed before he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes in the hope to ease the pressure that was building.

Without looking up, Harry asked, “what could he have done with the suit, anyway?”

“Gain trade secrets. They most likely have a large quantity of your blood on hand,” James murmured, voice soft in sound but steeled. James took a deep breath through his nose, and Harry looked up at the sound to focus on his oldest child.

“Liliana might just be testing you at this point, dad.” James added, now that they had eye contact. “When you were Skull—you were used as a courier between our bases. Transported plants and other such magical goods from our processor areas to refineries—“ James flicked up a curved, aged finger with each statement that ‘Skull’ had been responsible for.

“—Wait, the drugs?” Harry asked with a frown.

James actually rolled his eyes, “technically yes. Potion supplies mostly. We own a lot of the ‘uninhabitable’ mountainside. Goblins and Trolls work in those areas for potion ingredients—research, protection, and development.” It was technically drugs, but it would better be qualified as medicine.

“Auntie Hermione, she was one of the first to notice the trend of magical decline in humans—she helped start our magical preservation efforts. Uncle Bill became the champion of it, though. Dedicated the rest of his life to it.” Lily curled her hands in her coat, which Harry noticed was rather thick for such a pleasant evening.

While this was all very interesting, and did introduce him to the broader picture of the world, it still didn’t help Harry with his current impeding problem. Harry slumped back, letting his arms rest over his stomach. From what Harry remembered, he did have several muddled memories doing missions for the Carcassa. And most, if not all of them, involved driving to various places in a car or motorbike.

Nothing like the few vibrantly violent memories of the Arcobaleno.

But Harry wasn’t really ‘Skull’ anymore. He was ‘Harry’.

“So… a test?” Harry asked at last.

“A test of skill,” James supplied.

Even as Lily countered with, “a test of loyalty.”

Harry watched his children look to each other. Well, it seemed like there was a difference of opinion. “What does she gain from me going to retrieve the suit?”

Lily looked to James, so James straightened up before he spoke. “When you were Skull… you were loyal to us. We had an understanding—when you worked under mum. But mum is gone, now. Liliana is sliding in to power, and she needs to know if you can and will work for her. It’s a simple mission—consequences are small, since the Arcobaleno can’t hold you, and won’t kill you.” It was a safe mission.

“It’s your chance to see if you want to work for her, as you did for mum.” Lily added gently, reaching out with a hand palm up on the table. Harry didn’t hesitate to reach out and place his hand on top of her own. Their fingers laced together. Spider thinned and arthritis widened knuckles tucked in tight amongst young fingers. “The Carcassa existed as a safe haven for you, daddy. As you were entrenched in mafia, there had to be a space in the mafia for you—so it was made. But now that you’re you, we don’t need the guise. But the Carcassa has changed over time. Its purpose has multiplied. Now it is more, and it won’t ever simply be just a place to live anymore.” Lily was always good at soothing things out even as a girl, and especially as an old woman. Like a diplomat.

“The Carcassa exists for more than just one man, now.” James rasped, adding his own hand on top of the pile of fingers. Harry smiled and closed his eyes at the warmth.

It all made so much more sense when they spoke.

And it gave Harry a choice, which Harry couldn’t express how much he appreciated such a thing after the insanity that had infected everything he had touched within the last several weeks.

Well, Harry would probably have appreciated it more if Liliana had just outright said what Lily and James had just expressed. But considering the circumstances Harry would make some allowances for this one instant.

Did he want to work with his great granddaughter? The child of a woman he apparently murdered?

“… What happened with Rose?” Harry asked, and felt the moment when both Lily and James attempted to pull back. Harry firmed his grip on Lily’s hand. Gentle, but unmoving. James slowly drew his hand back, and Harry opened his eyes to focus on the still faces of his children.

They didn’t question how he learned of Rose. They sat in stillness.

Real Mafioso, Harry’s mind unhelpfully supplied as he watched his children. Slowly, his oldest son and his only daughter turned to look to each other. The calculated movements of old, retired criminals that were interrogated over past crimes but had survived long enough to create a language without words or movement. Harry had seen these looks before. This eye communication which was less magic and more familiarity.

The eyes of people that did not work on the same law that he did.

(That he used to work on—Harry unhelpfully commented to himself. But was that his fault?)

“Officially… you, as Skull, killed her. One heavy hit to the temple.” James murmured.

Harry tensed at the word ‘officially’.

He was really getting tired of all of this subversive shit.

“… unofficially?” Harry hissed, letting go of Lily’s hand before he had the chance to unintentionally hurt his daughter by sheer grip. Harry had always had a problem with digging his nails in to his palms, and he would not risk his daughter’s fragility due to his usual habit.

“Daddy… if you want to hear, put up a privacy spell.” Lily murmured, eyes on the wand that was still on the table. Eyes on the death stick. Harry had already made his statement on his willingness to continue using his magic. What was such a simple request in the grand scheme of things? The wand practically flew in to his hand, and soon the soft sounds of the world were muffled to even their hearing. Harry set the wand back on to the table, and focused on James.

“… unofficially, you took the fall for mum.” James murmured.

“Wait. What.” Harry’s eyes felt over dried from how far they widened over that. Of course, then Harry promptly choked on his own spit and fell in to a coughing fit.

Pro—the coughing gave everyone much needed time to really digest that tidbit.

Con—Harry really needed a drink, now. His throat continued to itch even after he cleared his airway.

Once he had gotten himself settled, Harry took several deep breaths before he felt centered enough to focus on James once more. Harry took the time to really look at his son—the wispy hair, the sun spots decorating his skin, the way he just sagged and drooped—and took in just how old he looked.

“… what happened?” He asked, couldn’t help but ask. Couldn’t say anything else.

Lily was the one that took over, “Rose barged in during an unscheduled one to one meeting with you and mum. You weren’t supposed to be there… Rose was our first flame active child. She was a sky flame—and she clashed terribly with mum and why the Carcassa existed at the time.” Lily sighed and rubbed her temples as she continued. “Rose had big ideas—big plans. And attempted to undermine mum at every turn. But mum was very, very clever. And always brought Rose to heel.”

“Mum told her to gain a full court before mum would consider giving up the reigns,” James quietly interjected, the fingers of the hand that he had on the table minutely spasmed while retaining the shape of an imaginary glass. “Rose quickly… destabilized from there.”

Lily nodded, “we didn’t have very many flame active members at the time—we still don’t. Flame actives are the elite of the elite. And they have so many better options than us. Especially with the reputation that mum used to hide our existence from the spotlight.” Ginny had been clever, not only in how she had settled the Carcassa in the mafia world, but also in how she wanted to reign in Rose. “And we don’t exactly recruit outside of the remains of the magical world… that decided to abandon the big governments.” Lily added.

“… we learned, after the fact, that Rose had tried to make some dealings without mum’s knowledge. She needed control right then, rather than spending, potentially, years trying to find trustworthy elements. She jumped the gun, and attempted to take mum’s life.” James sighed, eyes closed and looking strangely bruised as he threaded his fingers together on top of the table.

“But I was there,” Harry quietly interjected, and both children nodded.

“But you didn’t kill Rose,” James opened his eyes, only to look away.

“Mum did.” Lily murmured.

“And I took the fall?” Harry pressed a hand to his heart.

The silence was more than answer enough for that.

“We never told Liliana the truth. Or the rest of the Carcassa.” James added.

“… we?” Harry asked, voice tight.

“Mum, James, Albus, and me,” Lily quietly pointed out. Harry dropped his face in to his hands and tried to sort out the mixed feelings he had inside. He had lied straight up to Liliana’s face when he hadn’t exactly been himself. They all had. They had a death in the family and they were, essentially, the force behind the death.

His wife had killed their granddaughter.

“It is what it is,” James added, “we all made our choice over it.”

“Liliana didn’t even look wrecked at the idea of me killing someone in a rage. Not wrecked, not shocked, not even surprised. Who else have I killed?” Harry asked without looking up from his hands. His face felt tight, and he didn’t let his voice shake out of the terse question.

This was never a question he imagined himself saying. He was in a situation he hadn’t, in his wildest nightmares, ever thought could occur to him. This had never been in his plan for life.

But wasn’t that the story of his life?

Silence.

Yes, this was the story of his life. Harry Potter, the underdog. The survivor.

Harry looked up.

This wasn’t Voldemort. This wasn’t a wizard brought eradication of the world. This was something entirely different. But Harry Potter was once again the linchpin to everything once more. Would all of this had happened regardless of his choice if he hadn’t been conned in to memory loss?

Harry focused his eyes on James. Focused on James’ lowered eyes and downturned lips and tried to remember a much younger face for his oldest son. But the disconnect was too strong. It didn’t feel real and Harry wasn’t sure when the surreal feeling of his life started and didn’t know when it was going to end.

“Come, dad. I’ll show you the time line I set up.” James shifted and sat up with the soft pops of old bones and tendons. Lily followed in kind. Harry was the last to stand. This was it—this is what he had been searching for from the start. His answers for the times that had been missing.

“Can we trust Liliana?” Harry asked before the privacy charm dissipated by them leaving.

Lily nodded, “as long as she wears the necklace—if she ever steps out of line…” Lily trailed.

“The failsafe mum built in to the properties will react.”

“Goblin wards will wreck her.” Lily added.

James nodded, “enter, stranger… but take heed…” Harry listened to his son recite the old Gringotts poem. It was pleasant, hearing a bit of the past come back to the present. Harry dimly remembered their first trip to Gringotts. Just him and James, the two of them standing off to the side as James fumbled with his growing reading skills and recited the warning at the time.

Harry would always treasure that moment. His young first son on his arm, hand outstretched and pointing to the words on those great doors as he stumbled through the words.

“What’s the treasure supposed to be now?” Harry grabbed his wand and pushed in his chair.

“Maybe you?” James offered, “maybe the creatures? Maybe the remnants of magical kind? Maybe all of it.” James shrugged his shoulders, and Harry offered his arm to the old man. James’ smile warped, twisting in to self-deprecation as he gratefully took the arm. Lily slid in to place on Harry’s other arm, and the three of them started the trek back to the main Carcassa house. A slow, careful shuffle that accommodated his children’s measured, careful pace.

The privacy ward softly popped and dissipated once the castor left the ward lines.

“So it’s cursed? Her necklace?” Harry kept his children steady and his pace even as they moved.

James nodded, “it was something mum commissioned from the Goblins. Liliana accepted it from a young age. She was pre-selected to become boss due to her flame active status. The necklace hides her presence, amongst other perks. All for the cost of loyalty to the Carcassa.”

Harry frowned, “and what does that loyalty require?”

Lily patted Harry’s arm, “love. For the Carcassa. And for you.”

“… she shouldn’t be required to love me.” Harry murmured.

“No. But she does anyway. As much as she denies it. You are easy to love.” Lily hummed. “Regardless of the past, you were there her whole life. She wants to hate you, and she puts up a good front. But treats you with care.” Harry mulled over the words, thinking back to his previous, recent encounters.

The park with the handcuffs. Liliana had been too careful, so careful that she hadn’t even closed the cuffs correctly. It couldn’t have been incompetence, if they wanted to press her in to a position of power. It had been gentleness.

Here, when he had apparated in. Had taken her essentially hostage… there had been no attempt at retaliation. Only to calm.

In the end it all left a sour taste in his mouth. This situation was entirely built on a lie. What had led Ginny to this? Harry hoped that once things were settled, he would see this memory for himself. Harry doubted that himself as Skull was privy to all of Ginny’s inner thoughts and workings. But seeing such a memory would allow Harry access to his thoughts and reasoning that he had had at that moment of time.

As another change of pace, what exactly had been Harry’s relationship to Ginny as Skull if they were doing private meetings…?

“Were Ginny and I…?” Harry trailed off, unable to put the thought in to words.

Harry kept his eyes forward and toward the building that James was leading him to. Lily answered him eventually, “no… most of your time spent here—you were in the form of a child. Any relationship you may have built in private with mum… would have been limited to that.”

James murmured, “and mum wouldn’t have been satisfied… if it wasn’t you, either.”

.. but had Ginny found… another?

Harry cleared his throat, “so… time line. We’re going to look at the time line. And afterward—I need… I don’t remember where the Arcobaleno base is. It might be in the memories… or in my head?” Harry angled his head and looked over to Lily, who looked up as he looked down.

“We’ll get you sorted out,” Lily smiled, soothing as she patted Harry on the back of the hand.

“Albus made some clarity potions for this. You can down a mouthful every thirty minutes,” James provided.

“I’ll guide you through meditation first… and from there, I’ll need you to bring me in.” Lily added, eyes still on Harry, and Harry unable to look away.

“… bring you in?” Harry prompted.

“Yes. I don’t have the power to actually hop in to your mind. But if you invade mine—I can use the connection to follow back to yours.” Lily explained, eyes connected with Harry for a moment longer before she looked to the doors they approached.

A mindless spell had the doors opening before they reached them.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s how that works?” Harry hesitated just briefly before walking through the door and let James take the lead to guide them on.

“It’ll work, trust me.” Lily laughed and slid away, taking the lead.

James briefly, gently, squeezed Harry’s elbow and let go as well.

“And you, when did you get taller than me?” Harry huffed, turning his attention to James and the minor fact that James’ eye level was a smidgen higher than his own, even when hunched.

James quirked a grin, “half a century ago, daddy dearest.” James let out a throaty chuckle, and stepped through a series of doors—Harry could feel the blood activated wards as he stepped in to the room, in to the office.

There were papers pinned to the walls in this overly spacious room. There was no string, so it felt more like an imitation from his own paltry office as an Auror rather than an exact imitation. Harry took in a breath and held it for a moment as he eyed the full scope of how much there was.

“Here dad. This is the start,” James murmured from the far left wall. Harry looked down to Lily, who was lingering at a window at the far side of the door. Looking in to the night.

Harry let out a breath and nodded. His boots scuffed softly on the marble as he speed walked to the start. James helpfully pointed to the first page and then slipped away to bring a chair to Lily. Both of his children settled down, and Harry turned his eyes to the paper. It was written in English and…

… this was Ginny’s handwriting.

Harry pressed the heel of his palm to his sternum, and focused on reading the content rather than trying to memorize the curve of letters in notes that he’ll never gain more of. That will never be written again.

‘Rick Smith – One year. Simple shop worker. After first year, memory modified and personality altered.’ Harry’s eyes scanned over the brief summary of the short life of Rick Smith, the fish and chips worker in central London.

The next page… ‘Christopher ‘Chris’ Giovanni. 29. Quick to anger personality. Likes to take risks—gets caught in an illegal gambling ring. Chris soon owes money and becomes an enforcer. Flames activate. Unspeakables use Chris and cohort gang to assassinate vocal squibs. Thirteen confirmed kills…’

Harry’s eyes tracked down from the paper, to the multiple pictures and biographies penned below the, also short, life of Chris. Harry numbly counted thirteen photographs. Harry closed his eyes before he could recognize any last names amongst the dead.

… someday, when he had the time to break down—he would find each grave and lay lilies at their stones and beg their forgiveness.

Harry would like to let the grief swallow him—but he logically knew that such an act would throw him out of commission like the haze that was the year after the final battle of the dark terror of Voldemort. It had only been Ginny and pregnancy that had brought him out of that. What would he have now? Mafioso chasing him around the world and his children dying of the flu? No, Harry needed to settle with the Arcobaleno. He needed to see to the comfort of his children before they passed.

(Needs to burn Frank Longbottom out of existence, and wipe out the insanity of the wizarding world. What was left of it…)

A torn sheet of paper was pinned next to the life of Chris. It read simply as ‘Checkerface search is inconclusive. Modifications implemented to increase enticement.’ That wasn’t Ginny’s handwriting. Who wrote that?

… Harry felt his stomach twisting in knots as he continued on. Just a little faster, a little more urgent to get to the end of what would undoubtedly be hell to know. But something he would not be able to live with not knowing. ‘Modifications’ was not a kind word, especially considering that these were the people taking, erasing, and changing his memories and personality as to their fancy.

Harry’s eyes skimmed over a printed date—the information was rather more important.

This looked more like a hand written report. This wasn’t Ginny’s writing either. ‘Subject ‘Chris’ was subdued. Project ‘alpha stone’ commence. Approximately one hundred and seven stones were inserted in strategic locations around subject’s body. Initial readings have proven positive results in suppressing all but the minutest traces of magic. Initial readings show that location magic added to the stones is unreliable…’ Harry took a sharp breath and reached up to touch his face. He pressed hard to his check and felt that presence. That bump. That stone.

… wait. The stones? But… but he could do magic now? Harry stared at the word ‘unreliable’ for a moment before he closed his eyes and took a few more breaths. Read it all and then formulate your own thoughts of the matter, Harry coached himself. It was really the only thing that had him so quickly opening his eyes again. A finger out and on the page as he forced himself to parse through the initial findings of the ‘rune stones’. It even included some drawings and schematics.

Harry cursed his impossibly basic understanding of runes. These drawings were gibberish.

There was a scribble of purple ink at the bottom… A single line. Ginny’s handwriting.

“.. A disruption stone?” Harry murmured to himself. Well, it was better than something that could blow up. Harry raised a hand and rubbed his chin. It figured that Ginny wouldn’t write an explanation if she kept these notes for herself. Harry could only make an assumption about this. He hoped it meant what he thought it did…

Side effects of the stones include—personality shifts, mood swings, calculated personality alternation… Harry’s skin itched at the thought. He stared for a long moment before he silently vowed to get all of them out as soon as possible. Who had the power and knowledge to alter him? Harry would rather not give them the chance…

(Could they find him… here? With these stones?)

Harry noted another paper that mentioned the death of the ‘gang’ that Chris was a part of before he was relocated and fully altered for the next go at enticing the creature known as ‘Checkerface’.

… how was it that Harry still didn’t have a memory of this creature? If it even was a creature, at this point. Harry shook his head and moved on. Harry found a note that his changed personality for the life of ‘Brian’ was considered ‘extremely over the top annoying’ and after a year he was ‘tweaked’ a little. A modification was made to the stones to, instead of block his magical energy…

There were numbers and readings listed in ‘before’ and ‘after’ columns on a paper. The neat block letters written in muggle pen were clearly Hermione’s handwriting. Considering all the penned calculations, it made sense that Hermione was behind this one. Harry’s fingers traced the numbers and the heavy indents that Hermione had made in the page. As if she had written them with force. Or was just upset. There was a big number written on this page. ’29 and 1/2’. It took a moment before Harry realized that this was his age.

He looked to the left to where he had started, and then to this paper.

It seemed like a long time. But in reality… it was about two years and a half since he was… conscripted? Captured? Coerced? In fact, Harry peaked ahead and noticed that soon the pages were numbered in slowly increasing increments that correlated with the one in front of him. Everything was organized to his age rather than a date. Although after a bit of searching he could find the dates as well.

Harry read further in to the second life of ‘Brian’, the life that was essentially restarted after he was considered too annoying to be any good. Considering Skull, that probably wasn’t a trait that ever fully went away. Of course… the second life of Brian had heavy underlines under the large letters of ‘DISAPPEARED’.

Oh… Harry had actually given them the slip? Well, apparently to the Unspeakables. It wasn’t their reports that Harry continued to read, but Ginny’s handwriting as Ginny listed the name of a circus as to where he had gone. The names and general descriptions of the people that Harry had spoken with. How Harry had gone flame active (again) during a fight with some minor gangsters for the circus.

Under the circled age of ‘30’ it was listed that Harry ran away before the police could investigate him at the circus as an undocumented worker. But also under the paper that listed him as thirty years old… it was listed that the Unspeakables found him in Spain using blood magic.

“Of course, by then we had already founded the Carcassa. Mum pulled us out of Hogwarts after James was kidnapped. Lost him for a good three days. He wasn’t really the same after that. He told mum what happened, but we never caught wind of the details. They took… a lot of blood... I still say they used the blood to locate you. The times coincide… but we’re getting off topic.”

Oh… so that’s what they had been implying. Harry pressed his lips together

It was on parchment, rather than muggle printer paper, that the story continued on. The Unspeakables gave Harry a side mission that Ginny had fully documented. Which was the assassination of the Spanish minister of magic. A list of the dead… Ginny highlighted that the force of Harry’s will broke the mind magics and he fled after he had brought down several casualties ranging from the actual family to their defensive wizards and witches they had hired to protect their home. Although he hadn’t fled far enough to escape the clutches of the Unspeakables, since it was noted that shortly afterward that the Unspeakables found him and wiped his memory to continue use.

And then Ginny and the order engaged. Harry pressed his hands to the wall, blocking in the paper and quivered as he read the swift report. The sentences were short. And everything clinical. Harry’s eyes glanced up to the age he was during this report. Aged 31.

The list of the dead was printed here.

Harry held his breath as he looked through the names for anyone that he knew. Only a few jumped out as vaguely familiar. No one that was… important to him.

In the end, it was stated that Harry escaped from both parties.

The death toll was high.

57 people.

It was Ginny’s handwriting that reported that he indulged in petty crime, joined another circus. Got caught by some local police in Croatia… and then someone in the not fully formed Carcassa squealed his location and the Unspeakables picked him up. (Harry read the note Ginny made about—someone, their name had been viciously crossed out with black pen until the paper was ripped where a name was. Harry wondered if Ginny did that. If she had ripped that person as she had ripped the paper. The action reeked of anger…)

The next several pages were colored periwinkle and with the number ‘33’ added to all of these pages. Harry took a moment to count the pages and roughly got about thirty of them. It took a bit of reading to realize what this all was.

… this was the extermination of the Goblins. This is why Gringotts was.. gone?

And the dead… Ginny tried to stop him. And eventually succeeded.

But the list of the dead.

… Percy Weasley… Ron Weasley… Cho Chang… Molly… Arthur…

Harry made himself finish the list.

But it… started to blur...

...Greengrass... Lavender Brown… Seamus Finnigan…

Harry felt empty. And he kept the emptiness close as he continued on.

(Ron… Ron, dead in the tunnels of Gringotts. They had survived before. But to die there… with Harry as the cause? Oh god… Ron…)

Ginny and the order capture him and the basic schematics for the stone bath and corresponding chart were pasted to the wall. A list of potions that was used to purify his system. And then they… they..

Harry clutched at the feeling of empty and begged himself to hold on to it when he read the next sentence in Ginny’s steady handwriting.

‘I authorised a mind wipe. Hermione did it for us…. Most of the compulsions and potion regime cannot be counteracted at this time. We have taken blood samples and cures will be made from it so that at a later time we can free Harry… a false life under the name of Henry…’

The empty feeling was dissipating.

Ginny had… Ginny had…

Harry quickly moved on as he focused on breathing. Long, hard inhales through his nose and slow exhales from between clenched teeth. He needed to think about anything but that.

So he moved on.

Breath.

Apparently his new life as Henry had him once again falling in to the mafia as if it was fate or destiny without any underhanded influence from the British or Ginny. And once again he was inevitably scooped up by the Unspeakables (although this time from Russia…) for a time. It took 5 years before Harry was rescued by Ginny and the Order (although it was named ‘Carcassa’ in this report) and the age of Harry was listed as aged 34 to 39.

The dragon potion had been used. An antidote was given to Harry and… Harry ran off?

Well, Harry just needed to be dosed with the dragon potion a third time to become a trinity in this act. Harry bit down the laugh and stomped it down before he could make a noise. Breath. Keep breathing. It was getting rather hard to keep breathing without doing something.

Lily had… she had spoken about this. All of this, hadn’t she?

“…it was painful, watching you. What they did to you…. We did the best that we could. But… but sometimes our best wasn’t good enough. And I… I am so, so sorry.” Lily’s voice echoed in his ears, and Harry clenched his hands in to fists and let his fingernails bite.

The medical reports that followed… were not good. These were not in Ginny’s hand, although it had the same slant that Ginny used. It mentioned long term problems from the abrupt end of potion treatments and how it could interact with Harry’s multple conflicting problems. Forgetfulness. Some short term memory loss…

… wait. Did he… just have a memory problem now? Something… permanent?

Harry took a hard inhale and pushed himself to shuffle a bit more down the line of papers.

Age 42 ½, Harry does a trick on a motorcycle that resulted in a popped tire, and a head on collision with another moving vehicle. Followed by a coma. Followed by him... waking up in the hospital. A German hospital.

The one he had visited. Before Liliana found him. When he ran off from his apartment after the biking competition.

(Harry felt no small amount of relief, knowing that the end to this part of his life was coming and the Arcoblaneo was starting. Because he had been Skull for so long. A currently unremembered life, but the knowledge that he had remained as he was, unaltered, for so long… brought a small amount of relief that seemed so large and important to him because the rest of himself was screaming in the back of his head.)

Pages were dedicated to his medical recovery. Of potions slyly slipped in between muggle medicines to rapidly improve his condition. His problems with speech and walking due to head injury eased and then eradicated due to new breakthroughs from the advancements of potions by Hermione Weasley and Albus Potter. Although nothing helped the memory loss. In fact… a forgetfulness potion had been added in.

(Stop… stop making me forget…)

The calm was almost gone. Harry could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Racing under his skin. He needed to do something, but at the moment he had nothing to do to work through this shock.

The words were blurring. Harry focused on reading the rest as fast as possible. The smallest details weren’t reading, but he was getting the gist of it.

44 years old. Free from the hospital. A donor (Ginny!) paid for his hospital expenses and he had gone on his way. Almost stabbed in an alleyway. Reported as flame active once more… settling down and becoming a paid under the table stuntman first in Germany. Then in America. He stayed there for three years…

“Oh… I’m…” Harry was the original Skull? The ‘Immortal Stuntman’? Doing stunts that no one else dared in shows and on film? There was even a list of his movies and newspaper clips lovingly cut out and preserved in laminated form taped to the wall.

Somehow, the revelation of being the original Skull was totally unimportant in the scheme of things. A small after the fact thing that could bring a smile once there was enough distance from the aches of the pain he was in now.

Aged 52. A single picture… of Harry in a café in his full Skull regalia and the reflection in the window of a mask with checker patterns on it. A single word was written there. ‘CONTACT’.

The next single paper of Gryffindor red had Harry’s ages listed in a timeline. From aged 52 to 53 was labeled ‘undisclosed Arcobaleno business.’

Aged 53, initiated Arcobaleno curse.

The age of 53 was listed. Then 54, 55, 56… it kept going all the way to 101. With the written words ‘curse broken’. None of those numbers listed anything from the Arcobaleno. But Ginny’s handwriting appeared with number-letter combinations that obviously led to another filing system to what had happened at that age. Harry would have to find out where the rest of that was. Since it was obviously Carcassa business.

Ages 102, 103, 104, 105; all of it was listed as ‘Arcobaleno business and Carcassa missions.’

“So… my, uh… minions were all.. Carcassa?” Harry lifted his voice, not looking but talking to his children all the same. A soft ‘yes’ from Lily had Harry nodding as he reached out and ran a finger over the number ‘106’.

That number was not written in Ginny’s handwriting style.

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to erase that number or immortalize it.

Harry looked down at his body and ran his hands over his torso. This was not the body on an old man. “… have I grown… since the five years the curse was broken?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t written.

“Not in any noticeable way. You haven’t been around as often outside of Carcassa duty ever since the curse broke. Even then… you still look very, very young.” James added on the last bit after a beat of silence. Harry pressed his fingers against the corners of his eyes and felt smooth skin. He was supposed to have laugh lines, right? Well, he hadn’t had much reason to laugh and be merry for much of his life. But they were less laugh and more of age lines that he should have gotten a long time ago.

Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the wall. After a moment of resting against the wall he pressed in hard. He wanted to lament and scream at the sky a terribly simple ‘why me’ and then break something glass and easily fixable. He needed to get this out.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry snarled in to the wall when the feeling of an incoming hand to his arm came to his senses. A muffled gasp and the hand drawing back and… Harry felt instantly guilty.

But the swirl of his emotions was still bubbling like a potion about to explode.

Harry turned his head slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye to see who was there. Lily’s pale face stared slightly up at him. Eyes slightly wide and hands pressed to her heart.

“Please…” Harry choked, trying to soften the blow anyway even though he wouldn’t take it back. His body felt like it was as on fire as his emotions were. “I just… I just…” Lily’s eyes dropped without a word and she looked away from Harry.

“I know, daddy.” Lily murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.

Lily said ‘I know’, Harry could read the English words falling from her age thinned lips. But all he could hear in his head was Ginny’s voice repeating ‘I authorized’ over and over. Harry turned back to the wall as he closed his eyes. He leaned his head back and slammed his forehead against the wall. The hard knock jarred his senses and sent aches spinning along his nerves. Harry opened his eyes, tilted his head back and did it again. The pain no longer as sharp, but hair raising all the same.

Harry sighed. Unclenched his hands and stepped back from the wall. He turned and found James at Lily’s side, hand at her elbow and his shoulders tense.

“How could she...?” Harry asked. Because that was all he could do. All he could focus on. All he could ask. The Ginny that had authorized the mind wipe—the thought hurt more than the fact that Hermione had done it. Hermione, in a sense, he could understand. She would have found some logic behind the action and would have followed through not matter how much it pained her. If she thought it would help Harry, she would do it...

... But Ginny? The little girl who had her own memories muddled and warped by Tom Riddle, who would know exactly how he would have felt when the truth ultimately came to light?

Harry fisted his hands in his jean pockets and tried to not tremble in rage.

“Daddy...” Lily whispered, and Harry looked to her once more.

“... I’m so sorry.” She murmured, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and hiding in the divots of age on her face.

And the anger, the rage... just left.

Harry had no small doubt that his children were involved in his fate. They were the leaders of the Carcassa. Or at least they had been when this had been a problem. They had been a part of Ginny’s crusade to save him however they could. And perhaps even before then, even before the Carcassa had been named what it was and had been going under the continued use of the name ‘The Order’. “Why... If it was known where I was, why did no one...” Why did no one save me? Harry wanted to know. Desperately wanted to know.

James stepped forward, easing just a bit in front of Lily.

... it hurt. But didn’t hurt at the same time. Seeing his oldest child as an old man stepping in front of his youngest child, also an old woman, to protect her from Harry.

(Had they done something worth that kind of caution? Or was it Harry?)

“The wizard ing world, in lieu of it’s natural magics... has turned to soul perversions. The Muds research was not leading to results. And soul magic, while previously banned in the past... has known research and results that span centuries. They’ve stolen creature souls—and are burning them to harness their magic. The wands are not the same anymore.” Lily murmured, her voice soft and a bit pained for it. She looked stretched thin and pale.

“The way they use magic now—it’s not what it was. And we’ve had a hard time... counteracting it.” Lily was weary, and Harry remembered Liliana’s haunting message that his children had been on bedrest and all had thought that they would not be around today. That they should have died some time ago. “How can we save you from what we don’t know how to fight...?”

Harry raised his hand. Palm out. He wanted to lead her to a chair...

James stepped further forward. Lily half disappearing behind his shoulder.

Harry lowered his hand.

Strangers. These old faces and James’ hard eyes and... and it wasn’t just Harry who had lost these people. It was his children who had lost their grandparents to Harry. Their uncles. Their family. Liliana wasn’t the only one who had suffered a loss. And in the face of years of tragedies, what had Harry become to them?

“You should... sit. Lily. You’re looking pale.” Harry murmured, eyes dropping to the floor.

James turned and looked to his sister, and carefully took her by the elbow and brought her to the table to sit her down.

Harry, distantly, wished for a time turner.

But also knew that one could not change the past.

... after all. He had tried. And it did not end like he had thought it would.

“I’m sorry, for snapping.” Harry added, not drifting closer to the little table by the windows that his children had gone to. The space between them was physically so small that Harry could join them within a few steps. But the physical divide wasn’t the only one there and Harry didn’t know if he was strong enough to cross what laid between them (and a small part of himself wondered if he even wanted to). The hints of the rising sun put a warmth to Lily’s face that counteracted the pale sheen to it. Lily gave him a wan smile as James settled a pillow behind her back and used a hand to rub at one of her shoulders.

Harry felt Oodako’s tentacle brush over his ear, and turned to find the octopus had stuck itself on to his back instead of hiding under his jacket.

“It’s okay daddy,” Lily added. But James didn’t agree. But he didn’t refute nor say anything else about the action either.

“It’s not okay... and I am sorry. I’m just... a bit... off.” Harry offered lamely, and distantly wished he was as put together with his words as Hermione was. That he had had the time to grow and age and become wise like his friends and family had been able to. But here he was, a man of his hundreds and still rather stuck like a man entering his thirties. If even that.

Why hadn’t he aged?

Harry rubbed at his face, and then reached up to brush a hand over Oodako’s tentacles. The petting was soothing to Harry, and Harry let the silence settle and cool his temper and calm his children.

“I’m... I need time to think. I’m going for a ride. Please... get some rest,” Harry bid his children after a time. Harry watched their eyes and still faces for a moment, watched James nod and barely heard Lily’s murmur of ‘yes Daddy’ before he turned and swiftly walked out of the room. He gently closed the door behind himself. The door clicked shut.

Harry ran through the halls until he burst outside.

He couldn’t stay here. Not for one more second.

Harry just needed a bit of... time.

He enlarged his motorcycle and swiftly sat. Harry forwent the helmet, and focused just on turning the motorcycle on. The machine roared to life, and Harry made sure Oodako was tucked inside his jacket. Harry waited for a moment as Oodako seemed to shrink and actually moved to settle under Harry’s t-shirt.

The drive to the gate was quick.

Seeing Liliana there wasn’t... what he had expected. Harry eyed her purple jumpsuit even as she stepped forward. Liliana didn’t offer a word, but she reached in to her pocket and offered a phone to him.

Harry took it.

“... if you’re stuck and able to call for help...” Liliana offered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stepped back. They didn’t stay crossed for long. And soon one hand came up to tangle in the necklace around her neck.

The cursed necklace.

A chain.

It was a simple silver chain, but it represented more to Harry now. How had she taken it, knowing what it would do to her?

“Come with me,” Harry offered with a hand out.

Liliana blinked, already balking as she took a step back. “Why?” It came out harder than necessary. But Harry could read her easily. It was a bit of distrust against wanting to go. She eyed the motorcycle, and it was less distaste and more wanting.

“The only thing that beats a motorcycle ride is a broom—and we only have one of those,” Harry offered. And wondered if this is what Lily would have been like, had he been aware at the time of Lily being that age.

Liliana hesitated.

Her fist tightened in the chain.

“I can’t.” She murmured.

Harry lowered his hand and forced himself to smile. “Another time, then?”

“Yeah... the next one?” Liliana asked, squaring her shoulders as she faced Harry head on.

“It’s a promise.” Harry offered. And Harry watched a ghost of a smile cross her face. For a moment he could almost see Albus in the face of this young adult before him before she turned to the gate guard and motioned for it to open. The gate lifted up like a castle gate, and Harry glanced around. The stones were actually rather familiar, now that he looked.

Still, itching familiarity or no... there was freedom ahead of himself.

“Be careful.” Liliana offered.

Harry chuckled to himself, and it came out bitter. “When was I ever?” He was a reckless mess of a human being. Harry didn’t let her respond to that as he twisted the accelerator and shot off down the paved road.

He wasn’t sure where he was, exactly. But Harry had time. And he rode the road for a long, long time. The sun was high by the time he finally came to a stop. He had passed through a few small towns and around one city before he stopped on the roadside.

Harry got off and walked the motorcycle to the side before he sat down next to it in the dirt. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out the cell phone that Liliana had given him. He fished through his pockets and eventually had his memory chip in hand. He had to turn the phone off and insert it before he turned it back on.

Harry fiddled for a little while before he took a picture of his motorcycle and made that his lock screen. This moment was calming, and it made the blood in his veins simmer rather than boil. Harry hoped that was just his terrible temperament rather than the stones at work altering him to some unseen plan. Harry shifted to lean against his motorcycle and he closed his eyes. Harry focused on breathing. Let the sounds of the occasional bird chirp fade with the world. Let the teasing touch of wind to the skin and hair disappear. The weight of Oodako on his chest soon became a non-thought.

(...He would not think of Ginny...)

It almost felt like he was floating.

(...He would not think of his children, strangers, on the cusp of death...)

But he eventually floated back to himself.

The sun was going down.

And Harry’s body keenly reminded him that he hadn’t actually eaten all day. Even with that urging he was reluctant to return to the Carcassa headquarters. Harry pulled out his phone once more and paged through the contacts.

Liliana was listed. As well as James, Lily, and Albus—all with their British born names than their Italian twisted ones. It was a nice gesture from Liliana to give Harry some familiarity, if nothing else.

... he hadn’t gone with Lily to settle his memories.

(Did he really want to remember the rest?)

(At this rate... not really.)

Harry sighed.

Well. It was time to do something rather stupid, then.

He dialed the number before he could think better of it, and raised the phone to his ear. It was picked up on the first ring, and Harry blinked open his eyes and stared at the trees with a frown. Well... his calls weren’t usually picked up so quickly.

After a beat of silence, the quiet voice of Reborn reverberated through the earpiece. “... Skull?”

“... hey.” Harry lamely muttered as he tapped the toes of his punk boots together. “Um... how do I... that is... What’s the address of the Arcobaleno house?”

“.... are you planning on going there?” Well, at least Harry wasn’t the most incredulous of the two here. That scoff would have burned if Harry had had to hear it in person.

Harry sighed to himself as he dropped his face in to a hand. “... if I say yes?”

“It’s not the smartest move to ask where to go to the person chasing you.” Reborn almost sounded like he was pained. But Harry didn’t know if that was just his perception, or a bit of his own embarrassment warping the words that he was hearing.

“Well... I’m kind of, uh... hungry. And a bit...broke.” Harry wanted to hit his head against the wall again. His forehead ached in rememberance. Harry listened to Reborn’s strangled laugh that sounded more like stress and something cracking. “And would very much like to know where to go... if possible. Dunno if I have the gas.” Harry leaned back and looked up at his motorcycle.

“... Where are you now?” Reborn asked instead.

“... Um. On a road?” Harry grimaced. He could almost hear the phone in Reborn’s grip cracking. “... maybe Italy?” Harry offered more. But Harry was thinking that just might make it worse, the annoyance that Reborn had to feel over the ineptitude.

“Have you had any blackouts recently?” Well.. that was an odd question.

“... no...?” Why was he even still answering? “Are you going to give me the address or not?” Harry demanded, near about ready to throw the phone away. He was getting a little riled up himself at this point.

“It’s not really a secret if it actually has an address.” Reborn bit out, his voice crisp with barely any bite of his Italian accent, and Harry rolled his eyes at the superior tone. He knew plenty of ‘secret hideouts’ that had addresses. Although it wasn’t a muggle address so it was a tiny bit different in this aspect.

After all, some spell work and even a quick ‘point me’ wouldn’t help with wizarding address. Once they were hidden, they were rather hard to find.

A ‘point me’ spell.

A...

Harry felt his own eye twitch. Was he a wizard or was he not? The Arcobaleno hideout didn’t have wards to protect it from location spells! (Harry had made an assumption again... ever since the war his homes had been so heavily warded—and it seemed he did live at least partially at the Arcobaleno base... but Skull was not a wizard. Obviously there would be no wards!) Harry suppressed the need to scream as he pulled up his legs and pressed his aching forehead against his knees. This was a new level of inanity even for him.

“...ull! Skull!” Reborn’s tiny voice barked in his ear.

“... sorry. I’ll have to call you back.” Harry said and ended the call before he really did scream at himself.

Harry jumped when not even a second later Reborn’s number popped back up on his screen in a call back. “Sorry senpai,” Harry grimaced as he shut his phone off and tucked it in to an inner pocket. He brought out his wand after glancing to the road.

“Point me Arcobaleno hideaway!” Harry smiled to himself.

... and then the wand in his hand didn’t move.

 Oh shit.

“Um, point me Arcobaleno house?” Was that a question to his wand?

“Point me... Arcobaleno secret hideout?”

“... Arcobaleno building?”

“Vongola maintenance building?” Well, that got a reaction, but it probably wasn’t it. Harry canceled the spell and pressed his hands to his eyes and rocked back on his heels. What could they have even called the building? Never mind his previous idea of wizarding addresses being better than muggle ones, there was too much variable!

... oh god, what if it wasn’t even in English?

Hopefully... maybe... It was probably something pretentious... like...

“Point me Arcobaleno Mansion!”

Harry swore loudly when the spell took hold and the wand pointed along to the direction of the road that he had been traveling. Well, maybe if he drove very fast he might get there soon enough?

... maybe before Reborn got there since he had flat out just told the world’s greatest hit man where he was going.

“... I am a trouble maker and I can’t deny it, Oodako.” Harry groaned to himself. He was making things harder for himself once more. Harry threw his leg over the motorcycle and straddled it as he settled. Harry tucked Oodako back in and patted down all of his pockets to make sure he had everything. His wand was tucked in to his jacket sleeve, his Oodako over his stomach. His gas tank half full...

Harry stopped every thirty minutes to pull over on the road and to perform the spell once more.

After a quarter of the day he pulled in to a city and tried not to feel bad about scamming a gas station out of gas. He sneakily repaired a bit of wall and roof as thanks, although the station probably wouldn’t think of it that way.

It was sun down when he, surprisingly, arrived. Harry had thought he would have had to transfigured a camp for the night and live it rough for another day or two. (It figured that Ginny would have the Carcassa headquarters this close to the Arcobaleno mansion. Harry didn’t know if that made his heart warm or gave him chills...)

Harry had to drive along a dirt road, but eventually he came through to a clearing and to a stop in front of what could really only be called a mansion.

“Who paints a mansion white in a forest?” Harry asked Oodako as he turned off his motorcycle. Harry unzipped and prodded Oodako to come out and sit on his shoulder. Harry let a tentacle wrap around the top and side of his head to hold on. Harry gave a judging scoff as he eyed the white paint and large windows. It all oozed rich and wealthy and a part of him that was little Harry Potter from the cupboard treambled at the thought of making such a clean thing filthy with his presence. But the older, more experienced part of Harry gently smothered the feeling and straightened his spine and let his body strut to the door.

There was either a lot of traps in this mansion. Or there were none and the Arcobaleno sense of superiority stopped them from laying traps and everyone’s fear stopped them from invading the home.

... or the fear that Reborn would eventually find out and hit them in a way they wouldn’t get back up from.

Harry eyed the door, his focus on the lock in front of him. The single lock. But while there was a lock.

Harry currently had no key.

But he had a wand.

(Which was just the best skeleton key in existence, wasn’t it?)

“Quick in and out, right Oodako?” Harry hummed and a quick alohomora had the front door unlocked. Harry smiled wryly and sent a few detection charms out before he cautiously opened the front door.

Nothing happened.

He peeked his head in and looked left, right, and up. And then he tapped the ground in front of the door, putting some weight on the spot to see if a trap door would occur.

Nothing.

“Huh...” Harry stepped in and softly eased the front door shut. The dusk of the outside was rather bright. But even with all of the windows it was dim inside of the mansion.

But even with the dimness, Harry could tell that the interior was all warm wood. And... “That looks famous. And expensive.” Harry blinked at the rather giant canvas with a bunch of multiple colors in dots and drips. Harry glanced to the right of the front door and found a tiny table with a few glass bowls on it. Only one of the classy bowls was decorated with stickers of skulls over it, practically covering the glass.

In fact, looking even closer it looked like the stickers were keeping the glass together. The bowl was a little misshapen. Shattered and carefully stuck together with adhesive skulls. Harry set his motorcycle key in the bowl before moving in to the house. He needed to find his living quarters.

... if that was even where they put the suit.

“Oodako... we might be here for a while.” Harry sighed and drifted around the front entrance hall. There were three hallways that led to different directions in the mansion. Through one he could see what looked like a hosting room at the end of the short hall from the entrance. The hall itself was spacious. The other halls led down to a twist with doors lining the walls. Harry ruffled his hair before he turned to the front door and laid down a ward line.

Harry would not be caught unaware if someone came by. Harry could think ahead, after all. And if anyone, muggle or wizard, stepped through this magic line—it would give a ring only he, the castor, would hear. With that settled, Harry picked a hall and walked on. Harry passed by more sitting rooms than he cared to count. Storage. A weapons ro—

Harry paused, back tracked, and looked at the large floor to ceiling walls that were covered in weapons on hooks on the walls. Some looked like medieval swords... and one looked like a tank’s canon.

Seriously? Just a little bit ridiculous.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled along.

He found the kitchen and swiftly raided the cupboards. There wasn’t anything fresh in the refrigerator, and no bread on the counter. But there was a can of peaches Harry popped open. And a can of beans he put on the stove. Harry plated the beans once they were warmed up. He left the peaches in the can and before he brought his fork to the meal, he scanned the food for any kind of ‘additive’.

All of the foods were safe.

Harry licked the plate clean. And drank the juice from the peach can. Probably not healthy at all, but might as well? It was sweet, and Harry was craving sweetness to offset the bitter of his life. Harry left the dishes in the sink and set the can on the counter before he continued his exploration. By the time he finished his rounds around the main floor by the light of his cell phone (because he didn’t want to actually turn on the lights) he hadn’t found the stairs to the next floor.

Harry dropped down to slump in to a coffee nook in the kitchen. Harry sprawled across the bench tiredly and let his legs hang off the sides. He hadn’t really slept the night before and the bench he was on was rather cushioned. Harry patted Oodako on top of the head as he settled down and turned off the light of his cell phone.

He checked how many times Reborn had called him.

Twice.

But there were a lot of numbers that Harry didn’t know. So perhaps that had been Reborn trying to get him to answer on another number? In total, there had been 36 missed calls so Harry could only assume it was Reborn’s heckling. Harry tapped the phone against his nose, and felt the stretch of the grin on his face before it really registered that he was grinning. Harry didn’t think long about it before he dialed Reborn’s number again and put the phone to his ear.

There was no hesitance on Reborn’s part this time.

“Skull. Where. Are. You.” It wasn’t even a question this time. Nor a demand. It sounded like an inevitability.

“I don’t have to answer you, you know.” Harry reminded the other as he strained his eyes to see the tall ceiling of the kitchen in the dark.

“But you will. One way or another.” Reborn was calmer this call than the last. The energy Harry could hear over the phone was different. Perhaps it was the general atmosphere behind the call? “I don’t hear any cars around you. You’re inside.” Reborn deduced from the lack of white noise around Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes before he shut them. It was too dark to look at anything anyway.

“Answer me.”

“Nah, it’s kind of more fun this way.” Well, that slipped out before Harry could think better of it. Harry could swear he heard the phone actually crack from that one, from the pressure Reborn was putting on it.

“If you’re inside—“ Reborn hissed.

And then Harry felt his alarm ward for the front door go off. The two bell ring before silence. Harry dropped the phone but scrambled to save it before it clattered to the floor. Harry just barely caught the device. Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest as he got to his feet, putting the phone back to his ear. “Inside where?” Harry felt like his voice did a good job sounding calm, even as he picked up Oodako and let the octopus attach itself to his head. Tentacles sticking to his forehead and under his chin like a demented bicycle strap.

“Hmm.. I wonder where.” Reborn sounded... predatory.

Not good.

Harry fumbled with the phone and slammed the ‘end call’ button. He clutched the phone tight in his hand as he hurried to the large cupboards that could definitely hide a person if one was clever enough. Harry swiftly and silently opened the doors until he found a space that was the most empty. All that was inside was a back of slowly rotting potatoes. The smell could be better, really.

But Harry would rather not risk the time and instead shoved some tiny tuna cans to the side and slotted his body in next to the potato mess. Harry felt Oodako shrink even more to accommodate the hiding spot as Harry eased the door shut. Until only a crack remained for him to peer out in to the dark of the kitchen.

Harry pressed a hand to his mouth to stop a giggle from coming out. There was nothing funny about this! Reborn was dangerous!

But this was also the least complicated aspect of his life.

The most fun.

Where he didn’t feel guilty.

He didn’t feel hurt or threatened by the Arcobaleno. Their conversation was a strange thing. And they had hurt him in the past. But Harry was strong, now. They were no threat to him with his full facilities intact.

In fact... this might be the perfect time for a bit of clever revenge.

Harry grinned, and felt the shifting of Oodako, as if the Octopus could feel Harry’s rising anticipation. Harry shifted and kept his eyes glued to his view of the kitchen. Reborn might be silent, but Harry would eventually see the man. And once Reborn left the kitchen, Harry would follow along. He needed to find out where the hidden stairs to the next floor was anyway.

And from there... well...

Harry wasn’t going to take this as far as his own father and godfather had. That thought made his stomach churn. No, just something light and fun. Something to one up the hit-man that assumed he was the world’s greatest in everything.

Eventually, the dark shadow of Reborn ghosted in to the kitchen.

Let the games begin.