#sky!harry

And Harry knows well how to deal with manipulative old man that hurts children

A good Sky!Harry fic with Vongola Nono hunting him down to control a Powerful Sky

A powerful sky who was practically blaring out his existence was spotted in Italy. It wasn't as if he was intentionally flooding the whole area with his sky flames and showing it off tyrannically. No, the flames were controlled just around his body, never wandering anywhere else. But this was the other problem. For the flame-active mafiosi around that area, it was like a huge beacon. Despite the sky flames not ever touching them, it made them hunger for the promise of a sky more. Tightly controlling the flames and not having said flames interact with the flames of other flame actives does not equal keeping the sky flames hidden. There's a difference. In fact, keeping one's own flames hidden is something everyone can do. In fact, unless they had actively called upon their flames, keeping their flames hidden was a default mode for them, with either no flames or only a minute presence of flames that could be felt from them. Even those recently awoken flame actives would not dare to put their flames on display like this - it makes them a target.

This sky was different. He was surrounded by sky flames perpetually, and he doesn't seem to be aware of it. Either the family he had originated from had horrible flame etiquette education, or he was a civilian. Either way, Nono was not just going to let this powerful sky go unchained to Vongola. It would break the now fragile balance among the famiglias. No, he would never allow such an uncontrollable variable to appear. However, just as he ordered his subordinates to escort this sky to meet him, willingly or not, his subordinates had reported that they could not find the sky anywhere. All the CCTVs in the area didn't even catch when the young man had left. He just vanished. Even after Nono had put up a bounty of the sky, nobody could find him. In fact, all of them couldn't even remember his face!

Realising that sombre fact, Nono ordered his Mist to check if any Mist flames had tampered with his subordinate's memories. The answer he got was even more baffling. It was a solid no. There wasn't even the slightest bit of Mist flames involved. With no concrete answers and a disappearing, powerful sky, Nono was having the worst week in years.

I love Sky!Harry putting Nono and pathetic Vongola in his place

The punishment was swift and brutal. Not a public beating this time, but something more insidious. Isolation. Days bled into nights in a windowless room, the silence broken only by the drip of water and the frantic thumping of his own heart. Food was scarce, water scarcer. The cold seeped into his bones, a chilling echo of the Dursleys' cupboard. And the extractions… Iemitsu personally oversaw them, drawing more of Harry’s precious Flame, leaving him weaker, emptier, the orange glow beneath his skin dimming to a faint, desperate flicker.

.

Iemitsu watches him with narrowed eyes, the faint flicker of orange fire glowing inside his own chest. Each extraction of Harry’s Sky Flame makes Iemitsu stronger. His own Flame burns sharper, purer. Strange, unnerving. Some whisper rumors of a sudden, unnatural increase in Iemitsu’s strength. But no one dares to question.

.

The Assassin's Guild isn't exactly welcoming, but he admits it has an atmosphere to it. From the tailor shop that serves as their front to the hidden rooms inside. From the outside, it's forgettable—one of those narrow, tucked-away storefronts on a quieter stretch of an already crooked alley. The kind of place people pass without ever really seeing. The windows are half-fogged with condensation, framing mannequins in stiff, outdated suits and sun-faded signs advertising tailoring services no one on the surface ever seems to use.

Harry steps inside, the tiny brass bell above the door jingling once.

The smell hits first: pressed linen, old starch, and the faintest whiff of chalk. There's a scent of age to it too, like a place that's never truly aired out. Dust clings to the corners of display cases and the walls are lined with bolts of fabric in browns and greys, none of which have been touched in decades. A single bulb hums quietly above the counter, casting a flickering circle of amber light.

The old man behind the counter doesn't even blink at Harry's entrance, even if he recognizes him, going on by the small twitch of lips at seeing him. After all, the first time he came alone, he hadn't known to present his ID. He'd stood awkwardly in front of the counter, trying to explain who he was, and the old tailor had let the silence stretch until Harry wished the ground would swallow him whole.

This time, Harry doesn't make the same mistake.

He pulls out his guild card with a smoothness he's practiced, presenting it between two fingers like he's done it a hundred times. His hand doesn't shake.

The tailor eyes it briefly, then gives a subtle nod—the same kind Fon had once received. The old man reaches behind him, not toward the cash register, but to a dressing screen nestled in the back of the shop. He pulls it aside with one slow hand, revealing not a mirror, but a heavy, iron-trimmed door that's closed unlike the first time he came. The moment it's unlatched, it creaks open on hinges that groan like they haven't been oiled in years. Behind it: a narrow stairwell, plunging downward, lit only by a few flickering, orange wall sconces.

Harry takes a breath and descends. The deeper he goes, the more the air changes. It thickens. The warmth of the shop fades into a cooler, damper kind of stillness, tinged with faint copper and something faintly sulfuric. There's no magic in the air—at least not the kind he grew up with—but there's still power here. Something primal. It scratches at the back of his mind like claws on stone.

He reaches the bottom and steps into the Guild proper. The first time he came in alone, he stared like a toruist, thinking how larger than before it was. Now, he realizes it only felt that way because he was alone.

The chamber spreads out in a low, wide sprawl—half-bar, half-sanctuary for killers. The ceiling is low and arched, supported by old stone columns and a network of metal beams, faintly humming with energy. The lighting is dim and copper-toned, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. To the left, a long bar gleams with bottles—some familiar, most not—manned by a tired-looking bartender with a scar that disappears into his collar. To the right, small circular tables are arranged in no discernible order. People lounge at them like cats in a jungle, shadows clinging to their coats. Some drink. Some speak in hushed tones. A few polish knives with unsettling care.

They all look up when he enters.

Harry steps inside with the echo of confidence. It's his second time coming alone, and without Fon beside him—radiating quiet threat and practiced ease—he feels every glance hit harder. Cling tighter. Harry ignores them and keeps walking. He's dressed plainly—black coat, soft boots, nothing flamboyant—but there's something about him that draws attention. Maybe it's the aura. Or maybe it's the fact that his Sky Flame, as Fon once muttered, isn't exactly subtle yet.

A few of the patrons look intrigued. Others... hungry. Some narrow, some widen. One man licks his teeth like he's imagining the taste of his magic, and another murmurs something sharp and guttural in a language Harry doesn't understand, but the smirk curling the words makes the message pretty damn clear.

Don't show fear, he reminds himself. Or irritation. That's blood in the water here.

So he doesn't slow. Doesn't make eye contact. Shoulders square, steps steady. He goes past the main room where, tucked away near the back, is the office corridor. Less glamorous, more official. He walks through the arched threshold and enters the space that always feels like the Guild's brain, if the bar outside is its teeth. The room is small and windowless, lined with iron filing cabinets and battered wooden desks. Maps curl at the edges where they're pinned to the walls, and a massive bulletin board dominates one side of the room, littered with photos, notes, and what might be at least four real throwing knives embedded in it, two less than the last time he was there.

He still doesn't know if the knives are part of the décor or someone's filing system. He doesn't plan to ask either even if the decor is less "assassin chic" and more "military formality with murder paperwork."

At the desk, as always, sits Lada, the clerk. Her features are delicate—almost too delicate. High cheekbones, small mouth, neat black bob. She looks like someone who should be reading poetry in a sunlit café, not logging kill orders and smuggling requests in a death ledger the size of a cinderblock. She's perched like a falcon at rest, chin propped on her hand, fingers drumming idly against the thick ledger she's never more than three inches away from. Her hair is sharp, her nails sharper, and the smile she offers him as he steps up is anything but soft.

"Well," she purrs, voice smooth and dry like expensive vodka. "Alone again, are we?"

Harry smiles politely, not showing how he now knows her name—Lada—means "grace" or "gentleness."

Nothing about her voice is gentle. Her smirk is slow and lazy, like a cat stretching on a windowsill. "Tsk. If you were mine, I'd never let you wander off unsupervised like Fon does."

Harry doesn't miss a step. "I'm no one's."

"Mmm. Shame." Her eyes glint. "You'd make a very pretty trophy. Even more useful centerpiece."

"I'm not here to be admired," Harry says dryly, then adds, "Is there a letter?"

She sighs. A touch theatrical. "Business, business. You are terribly boring for a Sky." Still, she opens a drawer and rifles through a neat stack of sealed envelopes. "Let's see… ah. One for Fon." She taps the front of the envelope before handing it over. "And you're on his authorization list, so go ahead. Read it."

"Thanks," he mutters, taking the letter.

She watches him, chin in hand, as he turns and walks toward one of the small privacy alcoves nearby. Her gaze lingers, too long, and Harry resists the urge to glance back. Predatory, he thinks, and not in the way that's fun at parties. He slides into the booth, pulling the curtain just enough to block the worst of the stares. The envelope is heavier than it looks. Sealed in wax—black, naturally—and cold to the touch, as if it's been waiting for him specifically.

He opens it.

No greeting. No name. No real message at all.

Just an address (a place in Sicily), a date (a week from now), and a time (18.30).

Harry stares at the slip of paper. It doesn't feel like a threat. But it doesn't feel like a friendly invitation, either. It's too clean. Too quiet. It's not asking Fon to come. It's expecting him. He folds the letter with slow fingers, exhales through his nose, and tucks it back into the envelope. Outside, the guild hums with energy—like a jungle right before the pounce. Dangerous. Restless.

Yeah. He'll need to talk to Fon.

If it wasn't for the fact that Renato would absolutely stand out in the magical school, they would have snuck him into the place for a few days just so he could see it for himself. As it was, Camellia and Verde were already attempting to find a way to help him around the ancient spells so he could visit.

So it was with some annoyance when he felt one of the Vongola sit next to him with a warm smile and a somewhat subtle attempt to try and tempt him into his Sky.

Timoteo Vongola was the heir to his family, but Renato had never been very impressed with him. He had a very bad habit of making rash decisions and not looking properly at the consequences of them beforehand. He also tended to treat his few Guardians as things easily replaced, as if they were merely disposable shields.

He sincerely doubted the almost seventeen year old even knew what a proper Harmony bond was.

"If you're here to try and tempt me with the position of your Sun Guardian, I am obligated to inform you that I'm already claimed."

Part of the school rules was that bonded Guardians...and once it was confirmed they generally wore a minor addition to their uniform or outfits alerting everyone they were claimed to avoid spats...that is, if the Sky didn't promptly arrange for private schooling the second the bond was made...make it very clear they were "off-limits" to the few Skies that attended the school. At least if the Sky in question wasn't already a student, in which case the class schedule and rooming assignments were adjusted accordingly.

"Who said I was looking to make you a Guardian?"

Renato gave him a flat look.

"You're sitting next to a relative neutral party with a Sky no one has seen quite yet and radiating enough Flames to make it clear you need lessons in subtlety. Either you're trying to poach me from an already established bond, or you're trying to lure my Sky into your famiglia. Which is rather ironic considering what he found out about his bloodline by accident."

Ironic in that the Vongola was technically a branch of his bloodline, not the other way around.

Powerful and charismatic Skies did not pop out of nowhere, despite what some people might think. It made far more sense that Giotto was a spare heir to an already established line than a mere nobody just happening to have a strong, pure Flame.

And he really doubted the Vongola would be happy if the truth came out, with how much emphasis they put on their Primo and his generation. Especially since Skull managed to track down several of Giotto's old journals which he'd bet good money on matching several handwriting samples from the ones the Vongola had.

Renato gave the obviously scheming Sky a Look.

"If you came by to irritate or get on my nerves I will not hesitate to inform your mother how utterly you fail at being a proper mafia boss, complete with video evidence and commentary after the fact explaining exactly what you did wrong and how you need retraining," he said flatly.

Timoteo snorted, thinking it was a bluff.

He would only come to realize after his unsubtle attempts to learn who Renato's Sky was and possibly get a meeting that the Sun had not been bluffing in the least when his mother called him in with a less than amused expression for a very long, detailed lecture and threats of extra lessons on how to properly attract possible allies to his side.

On an unrelated note, Renato suddenly found a new calling in life as he received a very nice letter from Daniela with actual praise and tips regarding his video and the comments he made about Timoteo's rather poor skills as a boss, with a minor suggestion that maybe he consider training potential heirs for a living once he was tired of being a hit man.

After arriving in a new world as a phoenix, Harry lives a mostly quiet life in the skies—detached, aimless, and free. That changes when he begins to sense strange and powerful Flames across the land—supernatural forces tied to people and emotions. Curious, he follows their pull and begins forming reluctant connections with those who wield them.

Among them: a sharp scientist looking for a break from boredom, a wandering martial artist with secrets, and a hitman whose need for chaos runs deeper than his smirk.

As Harry learns to navigate this underworld of Flame users, strange forces start taking notice of him in return. The balance of power is fragile, and Harry, with his rare Sky Flame and magic, finds himself drawn into something far bigger than he ever intended.

They thought that even if Renato Sinclair was already bonded, being an Arcobaleno will override that 'weak bond' in favor of the Arcobaleno Sky Bond with Luce. However, just as how Colonello protected Lal Mirch despite how futile it was, Renato was also protected...by his pissed-off Sky. He could tell judging by the flooding of Harry's flames and something else into their bond, pushing out the intruding force forcing its way into him AND his bond with Harry. His Sky saved him from this...this betrayal. However, because the Curse was linked to ALL of them...the results...were interesting to say the least. 'W-what...Renato?' Luce gasped out as she felt it. They ALL felt it. An angry force of combined Sky Flames and something else poured from Renato, protecting him from whatever hell was unleashed on them. It had the effect of protecting the others as well...except for Luce. The consequences was that while they ARE Arcobaleno, they weren't babyfied nor Harmonized to Luce by force. Rather, they remained free elements! Luce was the only one babyfied among them. 'W-what just happened?' Skull croaked dumbly. 'Not that I'm complaining, but I'm thankful.' he said, glancing at what happened to Luce that coulda happened to HIM too! Renato wisely stayed silent, for Harry. He sent a wave of gratefulness to his lover who comforted him back, but made it clear he wasn't too happy about the intrusion. 'Whatever this is, I'm outta here before whatever that is tries again!' Viper spat as he quickly fled. They didn't need telling twice, despite Luce's protests of 'Wait! Come back!' Like hell they would! '...this wasn't what's supposed to happen...' Luce croaked out as Kawahira appeared behind her. 'I don't know who interfered...but what matters is that they are Arcobaleno still.' said Kawahira. 'They can still play a role in maintaining the System that kept us all alive. But you'll have it harder as that interference prevented Harmonization.' he warned her. 'Your own Guardians are not sufficient in helping you maintain the strain.' 'I know...but what will happen now?' 'I have to investigate this. The key is clearly the Greatest Sun. For now I will escort you to town so your famiglia can pick you up. I'll track down Renato to fix this mess.'

.

Fon stared down at his tiny hands while the others cursed Luce and Checkerface both. His Sky had warned him, thoroughly, that there was something wrong with this series of jobs, and he’d ignored her. He vowed to himself that as soon as he found her, he would follow her guidance from now on. But how was he to find her as a baby? Now he knew why the reward for taking the job was so high. He didn’t know why those two had cursed the newly named “Arcobaleno” that he was a part of, but he understood that the money was meant to support them at least until they could find a way to support themselves, if not longer. His teeth ground as his flames begged to be released on the ones responsible for his situation, but he ruthlessly suppressed the desire. Baby or not, Fon still had a duty to find his Sky.

Carefully he stood up, being careful to feel out his new center of balance. As soon as he was once more confidant in his ability to move without falling on his face, Fon turned to the others. They were still abusing Luce, as Checkerface had vanished the instant after they began to feel the terrible pain the shrinking caused.

“I am leaving. I still have an urgent matter to attend to. But my family will always remember what you have done to me, and you will wish you’d never been born long before they are done with you.” He informed Luce coldly. The others looked shocked that the ever-affable Fon would speak in such a manner, but quickly recovered and nodded.

“Don’t call on us for help again, you won’t get it.” Reborn added angrily.

“You are a horrible person! I hope you never have any good luck again!” Skull snapped, so angry that for once he didn’t speak in third person.

“Wait! Before you depart, Checkerface prepared these companions to help you, now that you are so small.” Luce called. Fon looked back over his shoulder at her, a cold dismissive look in his eyes.

“I care not for a so-called ‘companion’. Make sure the money is in my account within the hour, or you will not be able to hide from me.” Fon retorted. Luce nodded, but lifted a small glowing sphere from a bag at her side no one noticed before. She threw the orb at Fon, who stepped out of the objects path only for the object to swerve and follow him like a heat-seeking missile. The globe collided with his chest before he knew what was happening, and a second later it formed into a cute little monkey.

“You may not want them now,” Luce started to say as she tossed the glowing orbs one-by-one at each of the Arcobaleno “but they have special abilities and are unique to each Arcobaleno. It can be lonely, being one of the strongest seven. They are loyal only to you, and are compatible with your flames.” She finished explaining as she picked up the last orb and it transformed into a cute, tiny squirrel. “Hello, Cosmo.” She greeted fondly.

Fon was officially done with this whole mess. Just as he was about to turn away for the final time, he felt the traitorous Sky reach for him with her flames once more. The entire time the group worked for Luce and Checkerface, the irritating Sky continued sending “sneak” attacks of flame at the group trying to force them to bond with her. This latest attempt was more than Fon could bare, after everything else, and his infamously hard to stir anger erupted. His flames surged from him and dissolved all of her flames that were outside her body. Even those reaching for the other members of the Arcobaleno.

“You stupid, weak, ignorant little girl! You dare try to force us to bond with you, when you already have a full circle of guardians and your pathetic, weak little sky can barely hold a full circle? You are a joke! I have a Sky, a true Sky. One who would never force someone to bond with them, the way you do. And a truly powerful sky. Compared to my Sky, you are not even a single lick of flame at the top of a matchstick! How your guardians can stand you, I do not know. Leave me alone, traitor. You are a disgrace to the name of Sky.” Fon spat viscously. His eyes glowed an eerie red with his flames and his que practically unraveled and flew around his head and body as his Ki flared around him in his fury. Luce trembled slightly before him, but kept her chin up even as her eyes dripped tears. A very small, very distant part of Fon felt bad for tearing strips off Luce, but the rest of him recalled what she’d done to him and the others and shushed the smaller part.