Prologue: Dammit, Lambo!

This chapter isn't edited in anyway. How un-awesome, right? Help an author out, will ya, and point out any errors?

Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, nor HP; or any of it's wonderful characters.

Warnings: Fast-paced prologue, basically. General.

A/N: Man, I'm starting a habit of starting stories and not really updating on them, right? Well, haha! Completely true! I do try, though (actually, that's a lie. I write when I want to, and I really haven't been feeling it lately). I'll try working on that, though life is a bit hectic right now.

I've read a few fics with Lighting Guardian! Harry, and wanted to try it too~

In other words, I wouldn't take this story seriously.

Enjoy.

Marisa Bovino was no fool. Despite being married into the Bovino Family, she was no fool, and she was not helpless; she was smart, and very much awesome, in her very own fuck-off-if-you-don't-agree opinion. She managed to keep afloat in the pathetic family politics after her late husband has passed, her late husband being the younger brother of the current head.

Tch. As if they could kick her out!

Marisa highly doubted they could have invented, much less thought of, the technical advances she brought to the family. From messing with time travel, to instant transportation- she was the main source of it all.

And they couldn't kick her out when she was carrying a potential heir. Marisa sighed slightly, smiling a bit sadly, as her hand rested on her stomach. She was only a few months into pregnancy when Feliciano...tch. In only a few months, she'll have his legacy, her last remaining connection to her lover in this world.

Honestly, Marisa would be lying if she said that she wasn't worried for her future child. The Bovino Family wasn't the strongest in the mafia, despite being the most technological savvy. And the Bovino wasn't known for being the smartest... A whole family whose most primary Flame being Lighting?

It was a miracle they haven't wiped themselves out yet!

It would be nice if Marisa had someone to be there for her child if she wasn't available. It'd be horrible if Marisa's sister-in-law, Ottavio, got her influential claws into her sweet, innocent child; Marisa rather die! And since that her child's father passed, Marisa wanted at least a good male influence if her child turned out to be a boy.

But being in the Bovino Famiglia, in the Mafia, she didn't really have many options.

Which lead to her position sitting at a public bench, stuffing her face full of delicious crepes. Stress eating, a bad habit of hers, but dammit, Marisa needed it! She licked cream from her lips, squinting up into the sunny Italian sky, and wrinkling her nose in distaste. She never really imagined living past 20, and being only 23 in this position; well, she didn't expect it. Didn't hate it, but it could be better.

A lot better.

Marisa angrily ate more crepes and was considering getting up, and chasing after the direction vendor left in to get more when a shout interrupted her thoughts. She blinked as she saw a group of street rats chasing after a small boy down the path of the park.

Her expression turned to one of distaste; it wasn't that she didn't admire their lifestyle or anything, but she had been the victim of many pick-pockets in the past and well, you don't get left with a good impression in the end.

The boy in the lead, the prey of the chase, barreled down the street with wide eyes and scruffy hair, his eye color the color of Lighting Flame. Marisa was inwardly rooting for him when a boy, who was literally lapping at his heels, finally tripped him by a swift kick as his ankles.

Licking at her fingers, she frowned as the street rats pulled him up and seemingly was taunting him. Now that she was looking at him, he didn't have the coloring of an Italian. His skin was paler than most, his features aristocratic with none of the baby fat that should have been there. A foreign child?

Seeing the child that tripped the scapegoat finally throwing a hit, Marisa came to a decision, standing up as swiftly as her pregnant body would allow. And well...

Lighting Users weren't known for thought-out decisions.

-0-0-0-0-

The short end of it: Harry was abandoned in Italy.

On one hand, Harry was never granted so much freedom in his life. This might just be the greatest thing the Dursley's have ever done for him, and that was saying something.

On the other...

Harry was still being chased by bullies. Not the bullies of Dudley's kind, no, but the bullies that grew up rough and knew how to tough it out. Something Harry was learning, but still; he was only 8, and how was he supposed to know that the neighborhood was their territory? He couldn't understand Italian much!

Something he was going to have to work on, apparently.

He was tripped and held up by two older boys, and the one who tripped him was sneering and laughing at him. Harry was still short of breath, and was wildly trying to think of a out of this situation that didn't end with him being beaten too badly.

Harry wasn't getting far with that thought process, especially when the one who tripped him threw the first hit, right into his stomach. Out of pure instinct, he had almost tensed for the impact before remembering that tensing made it hurt worse later and just accepted it with a small, childish, grunt of pain.

"Boys, boys," a unknown voice said, and everyone's head snapped towards the woman standing in front of the group. A pregnant woman. A pregnant woman who was currently eating a strawberry cream crepe, and Harry's stomach, despite the pain, almost protested at watching her eat it with interest. She seemed very uninterested at the group of boys in front of her, eying them warily. "Let's play nice, si?"

A boy sneered, and replied in angry and curt Italian, "What's it to ya', hag?"

The woman's eyebrow twitched. "What did you say?"

"Old. Hag." The boy repeated, obviously smug. Harry was confused, but tried to tug his arms out of the restraints of the older boys. The boys' hold only tightened, and Harry resigned himself to glowering at the ground in sullen defeat. But maybe this woman would help...?

Not that Harry had much trust in adults. Still, a kid could hope, no matter how dimly.

"Say that again!" THe woman snapped, and dropped the empty plate and raised a fist. Normally, a pregnant woman raising her fist would be rather hilarious and a bit alarming. This? This was downright scary.

Mostly because green sparks were literally sparking from her hand.

The kids around him yelped and Harry dropped to the ground and rolled away when the woman brought her hand down to the ground as fast as she could (which was surprisingly fast considering that she was pregnant), and the ground cracked under it. When Harry blinked at the destruction, he realized that all the other kids that had chased him were running away and Harry rubbed his stomach as he eyed the panting woman in slight awe, and slight terror.

He had never seen someone do something freaky, like he did.

The woman shot him a look, eying him warily, "...Gonna help me up, kid?" She seemingly asked, raising a thin eyebrow. She held out her hand expectantly, and Harry instantly rushed to her side, helping her up and he was wary of the hand that struck and cracked the ground. No one else in the park seemingly recognized what happened, as few as them were. "Shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have done that," the woman muttered to herself.

Harry only stared at her.

The woman stared back.

At last, the woman smiled, and seemed to eye him with something soft in her eyes. Harry could only reach a hand up and flatten down his normally messy hair, slightly embarrassed at being scrutinized so, and slightly irritated at her assessing gaze. What was she looking for?

Well, whatever it was, she seemingly found it and nodded to herself. Then she asked:

"Want to come home with me, kid?"

-0-0-0-0-

"And that's how I met your mother," Harry finished easily, finishing off his crepe with flourish. The child sitting his lap blinked big eyes at him, face scrunched up as he thought the story over in his fuzzy head. Lambo, of course, heard the story from Harry many times, and each time, he got this pinched and thoughtful expression for a five year old.

"And you never met my papa?" Lambo asked, once again. Harry smiled sadly at him, and shook his head.

"Sorry, Lambo, no; I wish I did, your mother seemed to mention him a lot." Harry replied, and put Lambo onto the floor as he got up. "I'm sure both of them would be proud to be your parents, Lambo." Lambo snorted, crossing his arms and pouting petulantly.

"Of course they would! Lambo-san is awesome!"

Harry only smiled and Lambo stuck his tongue out at him, before racing from one of the many common rooms in the main Bovino mansion to no doubt annoy someone else. Harry only sighed, picked up his plate from the side-table, and went to go to the kitchen to put it up, and probably help if he was allowed. Despite also being a servant to the Bovino Family, he was tasked with mostly Lambo's upbringing and care; but he was good at other stuff too.

The past 5 years were...something. Harry was brought to the Bovino Family by Marisa, who firmly upheld her position of keeping him near. While he wasn't allowed to join as a Family Member (despite owning Lighting Flames, and was being trained thus so), he was allowed as a servant. A servant to Lambo, the son of Marisa; Marisa who died giving birth to her son.

Harry made a promise to her, in his broken Italian and grief, to watch over the little bundle of trouble to the best of his abilities.

Being turned away once again from the kitchen, after dropping off his empty plate personally, Harry sighed and decided to go wander around. His Flame training wasn't for another hour or so, and while he'd usually spend this time looking after Lambo, today was one of those days with Lambo being too curious and Harry being too ignorant to satisfy said curiosity.

Other servants greeted him, while Family members only gave him a cursory glance. Not hateful, nor spiteful; just cursory, before they were rushing off and mumbling amongst themselves about their various projects and theories. While not the most powerful, they were...tactful with technology. Already, Lambo was being trained with the 10-year-bazooka and Harry had the misfortune of meeting a 14 year old Lambo in the middle of a bathtime (one of Harry's greatest mysterious in life was how Lambo could hold so many things in his hair.). Needless to say, Harry was wary of the thing.

"Harry, dear," a voice said, and Harry realized he was wandering a bit too far into her domain. Ottavio ("call me Auntie, darling") was smiling at him, and Harry instantly stiffened and smiled at her, tilting his head slightly.

"Lady Ottavio," Harry greeted stiffly.

Ottavio tsked, obviously displeased at her given title, before shaking her head fondly. "Little Lambo has been causing quite a stir, young man," Ottavio said, mouth tight with a smile.

Harry scratched the back of his head, and said, "Really? It's only been 10 minutes since the last time I saw him."

"Oh, you know him. A little trouble-maker like his mother," Ottavio sniffed, and tossed her head at the mention of Marisa. Harry felt his face twitch, before smoothing it out into hopefully a more sincere one; it wasn't unknown to him the distaste between Marisa and her sister-in-law. He just hoped Ottavio wouldn't push it, Harry felt a certain fondness for the woman who gave him a chance at this life, even if he had only known her for a few months.

"...So what's he doing? I can talk to him if he's really such a bother," Harry asked, hoping to deter Ottavio from the topic of her sister-in-law. Lambo received mixed feelings from the entirety of the Bovino Family, ranging from downright annoyance to a certain exasperated fondness.

Harry absolutely adored him, despite his...misgivings.

"Asking about his father," at this, Ottavio's face softened into something more humane. "Oh, his father was such a charmer; one of the best Lightening Users out of us three Bovino heirs! Too bad he was taken before his time," Ottavio sniffed, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes.

Harry felt awkward. "Is that so wrong?" Harry remembered when he was younger, when he asked about his parents; the burning need to who were they? Would I like them? Would they like me? I want to know. Of course, his questions were met with backlash and Harry learned to never talk about them again.

Harry didn't want Lambo to experience the same.

"No, I suppose not," Ottavio conceded, putting away her handkerchief. "Just thought you'd like to be prepared~" With that, she walked away, swaying her hips and Harry only made a face at her retreating back. Be prepared? For what?

Lambo? Harry shook his head, and decided to head towards Flame training a bit earlier than planned.

He was always prepared when Lambo was involved.

-0-0-0-0-

"What do you mean he just left?"

Harry had gripped the unfortunate servant by the collar, green sparks fizzing at his fingertips. The servant, who had the misfortune of being the one to tell him after losing a bet, whimpered at the barely audible humming that filled the room. Harry's eyes seemed to glow, and that wasn't a good sign.

"H-he just left!" The other servant whined, closing his eyes. "He learned his father was killed by the hitman Reborn, and wanted to get vengeance! So he left!" Harry's Flame stilled, and the servant could only open an eye as Harry smiled, menacingly.

"...You do know his father wasn't assassinated, right?" Harry asked, slowly.

"...Yes."

"And you just let him leave?" Harry's Flame sparked back to life, and the servant barely held in a yelp at the shock that went through his system. Harry let him go and ran a stressed hand through his hair, causing his hair to become more messy than usual. "Where did he go? I'll tear this whole world apart if I have to!"

That, the servant had no doubt. The servant stuttered, holding up his arms to protect himself in case Harry lost it, "N-n-namimori, Japan!"

With that, Harry turned and stormed from the room, thoughts raging and silent apologies towards the late Marisa.

Goddamit, Lambo!

Review, favorite, follow, or whatever you do to stories that you read.

Or maybe recommend some good x-overs?

I'm sorta running out of good ones to read ;c

-MMS