Warnings: Slash, book spoilers, manga spoilers, angst, clichés, brooding, chocolate abuse, reflected-upon child abuse, trauma, crude language, mentioned character death, Ron bashing, Ginny bashing, Dumbles bashing, eventual mild sexual situations, AU for books 5, 6, and 7 of Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and her affiliates. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori and her (it is a her, right?) affiliates.
Features: Independent!Brooding!Isolationist!Traumatized!Harry, Clingy!Paternal!Sirius, and the host-bu guys being themselves
This was it. Here he was, fifteen years old, and starting school in a country as far away from home as he could get without going somewhere obvious. He loved it. He loved how it was spring when school started, instead of dreary and Fall-ish, loved how warm it was in contrast to the cold rains of England, and most of all, he loved the school he would now be attending.
Ouran Koukou, or Ouran High School, was a prestigious school for rich kids, where everyone was putting up a front of some kind and knew it. No one would think it odd that he was amazingly rich – no matter how frugal his spending normally was, he was rich – or that he was foreign; no one would mind if he seemed a bit distant. They would surely assume that he, like many others, was looking for opportunity or something. The eccentricities of his personality could easily be ironed out to make him seem like the heir to a fortune, no matter his past.
Best of all, no one here would care that he was Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Twice-Accidental-Slayer of Voldemort. No one would know that he had grown up in a cupboard with little to eat; they might not even notice if he was shorter than average from his malnourishment as a child, as most Japanese people didn't seem too much taller than he was. (He had, admittedly, seen a few very tall men around, but not too much taller than six feet or so.) Here, Harry didn't have to worry about Death Eaters, Dumbledore, or any little fan clubs devoted to him. It was the last place anyone expected him to go, and it was halfway around the world from Hogwarts. It was perfect.
He exited his flat smoothly, locking the door behind him and sticking the key in his pocket that had been charmed thief-proof. The lock was a magical one, so even in the average neighborhood he had purchased his flat in, there was no chance that anyone could get in and look through his things unless they too were magical people. (Sirius would be able to take them down either way, but as he wasn't likely to remain in the flat too long...) So it was with total confidence that he started down the stairs to the street level, yawning as he went.
However, when Harry yawned, he closed his eyes, as most people do. Closing his eyes was not, in fact, a brilliant idea, because he did so as he was reaching the next level down and knocked into someone. This woke him up immediately, and just as his accidental victim was going to fall over the rail, Harry grabbed their sleeve and yanked him(?) back. When righted, he noticed that it was a slightly girly-looking boy wearing a large sweater and slacks with ungainly frames on his nose that magnified already large brown eyes. Well, he assumed it was a boy, he couldn't really tell though with the unfortunate haircut and baggy clothes. Rather like him in that, but Harry's clothes were no longer baggy, nor was his hair that shaggy.
"Aa, sorry 'bout that," he rubbed the back of his neck, realized he'd spoken in English (the translation spell he'd picked allowed him to use English, but it allowed him to be fluent without constant reapplication. A useful spell, but not considered practical by most vacationers who needed translation charms to begin with because they didn't care about being fluent all the time and it required constant use of the language to maintain) and repeated the phrase in Japanese. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
The kid (well, s/he looked probably around Harry's age, and was ever-so-slightly taller than him, maybe an inch, but still) blinked his/her/its large eyes before shrugging. "It was an accident. I have to get going though; I'll be late for school if I don't." Then he/she/it turned around and jogged down the stairs, strapless satchel under his arm, before Harry shrugged too, following. He had a train to catch.
Even in the area he had decided would be home, Harry drew stares from passerby. He figured it was probably the high end uniform that he'd spent far too much on, or maybe everyone was used to knowing everyone in the neighborhood, but he didn't really care. The only people he'd really seen was the landlady, the cross-dresser one floor down (he was kind of weird, but a very convincing woman), and the day before he'd seen a rather pretty girl, probably the same age as the It, with gum in her hair. The landlady was the only one he'd spoken to at all.
It wasn't until a few minutes after getting on the train that would drop him near his new school that he noticed the person he'd knocked into was standing on the bus as well. It took off the bulky frames, cleaning them swiftly on the sweater, and Harry decided. A girl then. Probably the girl who had gotten gum in her hair the day before, considering the haircut, and he was sure he'd heard apologies from the transvestite the night before for stepping on someone's contact lenses. It fit, therefore he didn't question the girl. Not that it was his business anyway. During the time on the bus, neither spoke to the other, nor acknowledged their existence.
For a time, this worked, until they were getting off. At the same stop. Well, Harry was rather surprised, to say the least. From the maps he had studied, the school nearest Ouran – aside from the ones for middle and primary students that were attached to the high school – was Ourin, which was a mile further on that train line. Ouran was a prestigious school, the best education money could buy in Japan. The tuition would have been considered outrageous to anyone from Hogwarts but Harry by comparison (apparently, he was paying several times the tuition even Malfoy paid because Dumbledore was in charge of his accounts, the old bastard (1)), so everyone who went was certainly well off enough to buy a uniform.
Must be a scholarship student, he reasoned with himself. Harry was pretty sure that Hogwarts gave out scholarships too, though infrequently. He was positive that Voldemort couldn't have paid for his tuition, since he was an orphan, but he had studied at Hogwarts, so they had to have some sort of scholarship program. Again, it wasn't his business, so he didn't really care. Though I should think they would just buy her a uniform if they have the money to spare to give someone a full ride. She must have Hermione-level smarts to make it in, too.
The rest of the walk from the stop was filled with thoughts of his ex-friends, and his circumstances. After the Triwizard Tournament almost a year before, Dumbledore had sent Harry back to his aunt and uncle's house, despite his protestations. How could a ward that was supposedly based on love operate in a place where the feeling necessary to maintain it had never existed? And how could a blood ward protect him from someone who had his own blood running through their veins? After a summer of back breaking work, little food, and regular beatings (well, 'beatings' was a bit strong; he was only bullied by Dudley and his gang, and Vernon and Petunia usually stuck with slapping him or throwing things at him, but those were the words used in Prophet. It could have been worse) Snape of all people was picked to deliver him to King's Cross.
Between Point A (Privet Drive) and Point B (King's Cross) Snape pulled the car into a small cafe in London. The usually harsh man seemed much kinder, though Harry couldn't pinpoint why, and the pair had an odd breakfast in the cafe before continuing on. After two car changes and several 'wrong' turns (for misdirection), they had parked a block off and walked the rest of the way... to find King's Cross in flames and the structure half collapsed, with muggle firemen running in and out with half-charred bodies over their shoulders.
Death Eaters had snuck up behind the pair while Snape was restarting the car to take them to them somewhere else – Harry presumed the Leaky Cauldron – and the back-half of the car had been ripped off in a twist of grinding metal that left Harry deaf in one ear for the two months it took to treat him. The snarky potions professor had attempted to grab Harry's arm, but a bright red spell clipped his shoulder (Harry suspected it wasn't actually directed that the Potions Master) that made his torso essentially explode in a shower of red before anything saving-wise could come to pass. Harry was captured by Death Eaters – one of them being Lucius Malfoy – and taken to Malfoy Manor via portkey.
It was an elegant place, as Harry noted while being levitated through some halls. High ceilings, wide passageways, beautiful artwork, and even some pure white peacocks were shown to him as they moved through the complex. It was the sort of place he imagined eventually buying for himself when he was old enough, and if he ever had the gold necessary to get such an expensive dwelling, or lived long enough to buy a domicile at all. He recognized that he was being shown around as a mockery of what he had never and would never have, but it was still amazing.
The final destination of the impromptu tour was an antechamber of some sort. Sitting oh-so patient and oh-so pristine was Voldemort himself, sipping an amber liquid (likely alcoholic in nature) from a glass of what was probably pure diamond or something equally exorbitant. Crimson eyes met emerald, and then the Dark Lord went a-monologuing. What was it with Voldemort and monologues? Harry kept silent through the entire speech, barely keeping still as his scar flared with pain.
Then the Death Eaters released him, doing the "circle time" thing that reminded him of Kindergarten once more as Voldemort addressed all forty-one of his servants by name with Harry right there. No one noticed as Harry scooted up against a wall, and just as Voldemort came to taunt him, his hand grasped the gilded hilt of a sword that adorned the wall, and slashed blindly.
Not that he hit anything, let alone Voldemort. The Dark Lord laughed at his pitiful attempts at saving himself, mocking him further. He went on to detail some prophecy, how Dumbledore believed he only had the first half of it that he had "gifted" him through Snape – now very much dead – and how that prophecy stated that Harry, the malnourished, underweight, average student was supposedly the only one who could ever kill him. The monster of a man talked about Dumbledore's belief that the Power the Dark Lord didn't know of was love, but he had studied ancient magicks like that. Many mothers had died for their children, and Harry was the only one to survive. He had been saved by the prophecy and nothing more.
After a few crucios and more gloating and exposition, Voldemort shot the killing curse at Harry. He didn't dodge. The green light touched his face with the softest of caresses, promising oblivion, and left just like that, the spell rebounding suddenly and killing Voldemort again. Somehow – Harry assumed Dumbledore had a second spy who saved him – he woke up in St. Mungo's two months later, which was apparently a wizarding hospital of some sort.
While he was unconscious, all the signs of physical abuse and malnutrition, which Madame Pomfrey had ignored when he went into the Hospital Wing all those times at Hogwarts, had been found by his Healing Team. The Dursleys had already stood trial and been punished the muggle way. Dumbledore had swooped in with the Weasleys in tow, congratulating him, talking about the Order of Merlin, First Class, that the teen would be rewarded in one week's time. He talked about the attack on King's Cross (anyone who arrived at the station before ten thirty had been in critical condition or dead, most of these being muggleborn students such as Hermione), and how everyone already knew of his heroic encounter with the Dark Lord. Harry didn't much like the "conversation."
On his way to the loo, he ended up overhearing Ron and Ginny talking with Dumbledore. Apparently the drink that had been on his bedside (he hadn't had any, luckily) was laced with something called "Amortentia," which he guessed from the first part of the name was a love potion. This hypothesis was confirmed when Ginny started spouting about how Harry was the ideal husband, since he would do all the cooking, cleaning, etc. Ron was talking about how great it was to be best friends with him, since he would get all the girls who flocked to the young celebrity (there was no way that Harry could resist the Amortentia after all, so while Harry was Ginny, Ron would have plenty of girls to choose from), get a lot of amazing job offers (who else could have helped Harry become what he was?), and probably make it rich writing a book or something about how amazing all their adventures were (with the proper embellishments to make his own role seem all the more prominent).
After that, he didn't drink anything unless it was water he conjured personally – Flitwick had taught them a minor water charm during the "Skrewt Incident" - or else potions given him by the healers that he knew precisely what they were for and what was in them. He was released from St. Mungo's a week later, having given autographs to each healer who attended to him (he later found out they were collector's items and worth a thousand galleons a pop since he'd never given any autographs but those twelve). Armed with only his Gringotts key, he floo'd to Diagon Alley and ran to the bank with all his might as crowds tried to rush him.
In said marble sanctuary, he met up with his account manager (who he hadn't known existed), got to see Sirius for the first time in four months (they apparently had the same account manager, and Sirius was, coincidentally, at the bank when Harry ran in), and found out his yearly tuition for Hogwarts had been 12 thousand galleons more than the maximum, which was only one thousand. A kid could go to Hogwarts for a year armed with only his autograph! All that money, he found, went to Dumbledore's pay, Snape's potion stock, and something called the "ignorance fund" that he later found was for the Dursleys and other people who didn't like him to like him less and press him further into Dumbledore's pocket. Also, one hundred galleons a month went to the personal accounts of Ronald and Ginevra Weasley. Sirius had been foaming at the mouth when the goblin finished reading off the unsanctioned expenditures.
Of course, both Harry and Sirius found a new account manager since that one had been letting Dumbledore into their coffers. Goblins in general weren't terribly trustworthy, but as luck would have it they did listen to whoever had the gold, and they both had a lot more than Harry ever could have dreamed of. The magically binding contracts helped as well, since Harry wasn't keen on being robbed blind by goblins.
Even though Voldemort was re-dead and Pettigrew captured, Sirius was still a convict who was to be Kissed on sight. Harry ended up living with him in one of the private Black mansions in Ireland for the next three months, having fun for the first time in his life and learning enough to pass his OWLs – for the most part – so that he could study and attend the muggle high school of his choosing. He had looked through brochure after brochure for high end schools with the highest graduation rates that would help him to take over Potter Co. (his family's conglomerate) and several other companies he found himself owning, though not part of the Company when he would be old enough.
In the end, he picked Ouran. People would expect him to "go muggle" in America perhaps, or Australia, but the magical population of Japan kept themselves to themselves, and the language wasn't a terribly popular one to learn. He applied, made it in with ease (due to the translation spell, he was actually more fluent in Japanese than English, and while his skill with mathematics was lacking, a bit of cramming got him in just fine), and purchased a flat straight away.
With these thoughts on his mind, he almost missed his first look inside Ouran as a student. It was... crowded. All the girls were wearing the yellow uniform dresses (excepting she-it), and all the boys were in the light blue uniform suits. Harry looked around with a soft smile. Somehow, this place seemed more like home that Hogwarts, and he loved it. After asking directions from a girl who looked about his age, he made his way to the room for class 1-A.
It seemed a normal classroom, if a bit extravagant. The desks were obviously new – probably replaced every year given how rich the school would be – and without the quill-borings he recalled from Hogwarts. Not that people at Ouran used quills, thank goodness. There was a whiteboard instead of a blackboard, with various colored dry-erase markers lined up, and someone with considerable artistic talent had already turned said whiteboard into a masterpiece of cherry blossoms and a sunset. How someone could do that with dry-erase markers, Harry had no clue, but it was pretty wicked. A few students were loitering about, but it was still ten minutes until the bell.
Two students caught his eye. It was hard not to look, really, given what they were doing. Tallish twins with impish grins and red hair were surrounded by a crowd of girls and appeared to be doing some sort of twincest routine to the adoration of a small cluster of girls. While Harry could admit with all sincerity that it was kind of interesting, and the guys were definitely good looking, the whole thing just weirded him out. It was obviously all just an act, yet the girls lapped it up. He could freely admit that a lot of guys he knew had some weird idea about threesomes with twin girls, but that didn't make the idea any less disturbing to the young wizard. They were definitely good looking guys though.
Shaking his head free of these thoughts (I came here to study, not ogle cute boys), Harry sat in a desk that was off to the side and midway back to have a nice read. He'd never realized before how hard it must be for Hermione to have always read in the presence of him and Ron, though he was sure he'd come close sometimes with Sirius. They talked at top volume about Quidditch, and she rarely told them to shut up. Some real respect built up for her over the next few minutes as he resisted snapping at the cluster of girls who kept squealing at the twins' antics. While their obvious deviant nature reminded him of Fred and George, he wasn't considering that terribly endearing at that point. He wanted to read.
Just when he would have blown up, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. And, well, it passed as classes did. The first teacher introduced himself, they went over the curriculum for term, the next teacher came in, and so forth and so on until lunch. It was really odd not to have to go from class to class on his own with the exception of his electives, but Harry didn't really mind either way. It was kind of nice to be lazy like that. He ate his lunch (a homemade chicken sandwich, an apple, and a few sweets he'd picked up in the wizarding part of Kyoto) in peace, with only the scholarship student (she had been identified as Fujioka Haruhi) remaining in the classroom with him as she ate her bento.
The rest of the day was a blur of much the same, excluding Sirius calling his cell phone five minutes to the end of the last class when everyone was just goofing off anyway. They had a quick chat in which Harry reminded him that school wasn't out until after three, not five-'til-three, and couldn't he find his own way around Nara? He hung up when Sirius started squealing about seeing deer in Nara (the place was famous for them after all), exasperated. Was there nowhere that he could just study? That was the entire point of applying to such a high-end school.
As soon as class was out, he was gone, heading for a library. Unfortunately, after school let out for the day, students could only be in classrooms to have a meeting with a teacher or of they were in a club and a teacher loaned them the room. However, after visiting all of the designated study areas, Harry was fuming. None of them were the least bit quiet! Maybe if the noise level was steady, he could block it out and concentrate, but the noise could go from whispering to full blown screams in a split seconds, which was not good for his ears or his concentration. After wandering the entire campus, he finally found one room, a music room, that seemed to only have smatterings of conversation inside. He knew the music rooms had several attached chambers for storage, or for composers to sit quietly without a cacophony of practicing peers. Maybe he could ask permission to use one of those rooms?
Harry opened the door after rapping his knuckle on the frame. What he saw was something he really didn't think he would see that day, but oh well. A downtrodden Fujioka was carrying a tray around to various small tables. At these tables sat many girls, and each had one or two boys as well. The twins from class were doing their twincest thing again, but a bit more earnestly, and to the collective excitement of all the girls at their table. Off to another side was a tall blond boy romancing a girl in a way that made her look ready to melt (literally). The third table had a blond boy – he didn't look like he'd hit puberty yet, but he was wearing the high school uniform – holding a stuffed bunny and eating cakes while entertaining a cluster of girls in some way. Beside this Loli-boy was someone of what Harry could describe only as the strong and silent type, with the kid cuddled against his side. He was probably taller than Sirius, who was just about six foot. A group of girls seemed to be admiring him from afar.
"Can I help you?" Harry jumped slightly, turning to the left and reflexively reaching for his wand... then he remembered that one: he was in Japan, no one wanted to kill him here... yet. And, for two, he recalled that his wand was in a holster on his arm because his pockets were smaller in this uniform than the voluminous robes of Hogwarts. The figure he turned to was tall (actually, all the boys in the room were tall-ish except for cake-boy... and now Harry), with black hair and glasses. He had a look about him that Harry could only categorize as "Slytherin," given the sly appraisal he was doubtlessly giving the room even as he seemed to be paying attention to the intruder in the room.
"Aa, sorry. I was hoping I could use a side-room to study," Harry explained. "This seems to be the only part of the school with a relatively low and steady noise level. Is that alright?" He wasn't entirely sure why he was asking, since these people (probably one of the clubs) didn't exactly own the room, but if they were using it and whatever they were doing was so popular, then they had to have the rights to use it at least. He didn't want to infringe on that... he just wanted a quiet place to read where Sirius couldn't barge in and start gushing about Japan or the bullet train or anything equally ridiculous.
"Hm," cold black eyes looked Harry up and down, and he felt suspiciously like his worth was being weighed. "Who are you, and where are you from? Your accent isn't one I recognize off the top of my head." Definitely one of the future company heads then.
"Potter Harry from class 1-A," he stuck his hand out delicately for a shake, which was returned. "I'm English, but I'm pretty fluent in Japanese; so far most people haven't caught onto the accent, or if they do they haven't mentioned it." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And yourself?"
"Ootori Kyouya," he responded. Harry immediately filed the Ootori family under sly business-types, perhaps like Blaise Zabini in that way.
"Ootori-san... that sounds familiar," Harry paused in thought. Where had he heard that name before? It clicked. As did his fingers. "Oh! Your hospitals are the leading buyers of the basic medical-botany guide books and supplies from Potter-Evans Medical Corporation outside of Europe. I thought I recognized the name." He paused again, thinking. "I think I read a file... since you're in Ouran still, that makes you the third son of the family, the most ambitious I don't doubt, and supposedly the one least likely to inherit." Green eyes overlooked Harry's frames as he peered into the other boy's own eyes. "But, as the third born you have the most to prove, the most to accomplish, and more reason to do so. Am I right?"
Harry liked to consider himself very observant, far more than the average Gryffindor. Getting to know Ron, he understood what younger siblings went through, and while Ron didn't handle the situation well, Harry understood the feelings behind it. He understood ambition, proving self worth. He'd always tried to prove that he was Harry, not the Boy-Who-Loved, just Harry, and that Harry was more real and better than the vaunted moniker he had been "gifted" with as a baby. He understood the price of individuality, and that the youngest Ootori was putting a lot on the line be deviating enough to do what he was. He was gaining social skills doing... whatever this was.
There was light reflected in the glasses perched on the older boy's nose, so Harry had no idea how he was reacting, but he figured the boy was at least surprised.
"I take it that you are the heir to the Potter-Evans Corporation?" Ootori Kyouya asked. "I can't say I know much about your own current standings. Perhaps we could chat at some point?" Harry smiled slightly, nodding. A business deal in high school with the heir to a prominent medical supply company would be fortuitous for the older boy. This would be the price of a quiet place to study, but that was fine with Harry. "I think the room off the second door to the left will suit your purposes. The walls are thick, very nearly soundproofed, and there is a table you can use."
There was, and he did. Harry spent everyday for the next two weeks coming into the music room before the Host Club started up for the day, saying hello to each of the members (and the Fujioka girl, though she was designated "Indentured Slave" and, as of that first Thursday, "Host In-Training"). Harry had come out of the room on the first Thursday to find his fellow first year wearing one of the boys' uniforms and looking resigned.
It wasn't a week later, after some commotion caused Harry to peek in to the music room curiously, and heard the "King" of the Host club, Suou Tamaki, ask a question to Fujioka with the rest of the club looking on, nonplussed.
"... Are you a girl?" He was holding what appeared to be her wallet in his hand, and Harry blinked. Was their "King" really that dumb?
Fujioka seemed just as nonplussed as her club-mates, looking at Takashi with a slightly confused look. "Yes. Biologically at least (2)," she shrugged and went to continue to clean up, but the blond half-Frenchman started shouting and whimpering. Harry didn't bother to decipher his comments or Fujioka's responses (if she formulated any), instead walking up beside the other second year. The one who seemed sane, that is.
"Did it seriously take him two weeks to figure that out?" He dead-panned in the peanut gallery, sending an incredulous glance towards the others present. "Please tell me all of you noticed?" They nodded. "Thank Merlin," was the muted whisper after as he turned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Club was over, and the school would close for the evening in less than half an hour. He had to get home before Sirius, too, or else he would call in the police (or, as the older wizard still called them, "please-men," much like the rest of the undereducated magical society) as he had a week before when Harry stopped at the market on his way home. "See you all tomorrow." And with that, he left.
There was a reason why Harry studied at school instead of in the small apartment that he and Sirius rented. Part of it was that it was small, and that Sirius had a large energy. Another part of the matter was that Harry Potter, after long years of living in a cupboard, suffered from flashbacks to his childhood when in a small, enclosed area. Simply put, he was claustrophobic.
This was not, however, the main reason why he studied by the host room day in and day out. He had to get away. Sirius was also mildly claustrophobic when combined with cold weather, prone to panic attacks. To avoid him going ballistic, Harry had to keep the man dosed up on chocolate whenever possible, which he did dutifully, always preparing a delicious chocolate dessert to have after dinner every day and chocolate biscuits were kept in plentiful supply. It was a lesson he had learned while spending four-and-a-half months living with his godfather, and he had come to accept this.
Even more than all that; Sirius was clingy. Whenever Harry was around and doing something productive (except for household duties since Harry would snap at the man if he didn't do them), Sirius would appear and try to hug him, would glomp him while he was studying (very annoying when he'd been cramming for OWLs and the Ouran entrance exams), and try to get him to go and do things.
But Harry wanted to study. His goal in life, now that he had (accidentally) killed Voldemort again was to graduate Ouran second or third in the class, since Fujioka had to maintain first, go to a Business school, be taught how to do his job as Head of several major companies – all called Potter Co. collectively – and lead a life so jammed full that he had no space in his schedule for any sort of social interaction, work himself into the ground, and eventually die old and alone.
Or young of stress-induced something-or-other. Which ever came first.
Sure, it wasn't a terribly fulfilling life, but that was how Harry wanted it. It was okay to be casual acquaintances and have the occasional business deal with the Host Club as they were right now, and it was okay if he maintained contact with Sirius, but only distantly. He had to be focused, without the requirement of deep introspective thought, and not be seen as being at all friends with anyone. He just couldn't. It was a proven fact that everyone close to Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Twice-Accidental-Slayer of Voldemort, died, and usually not in a pleasant manner.
Even if he was protecting people by not knowing them, they were safer that way.
Author's Note: Be forewarned; I have never written romance, slash, crossovers, anything even vaguely sexual, or a lot of things in this story. It's all one big experiment, and I'm going to try my hardest to do well with it. I have also never finished a story before... but I'm trying damn hard. Really. Upon completion this story became the longest in the entire Ouran archive... so at least you know I tried.
As for actual notes on the chapter? Harry is an ass, sort of, but he gets better. I don't think I need to explain myself on that. He will not be participating in everything, some events will be skipped entirely without his notice, some things will only be commented upon for a moment, and others he will have some part in. He is not a Host, he is not immediately best friends with them, and he is – as the top says – a bit of an isolationist at the moment. Also, FYI, you won't actually SEE Sirius for a couple chapters yet. But he is mentioned.
If you know any other stories in the HP/Ouran fandom, please tell me? So far I've read three or four... and, honestly? Only one of them was any good and I'm still reserving judgment on it. I don't wanna be the only one that's not completely awful TT_TT
(1) Tuition is scaled by family class and wealth because Hogwarts, though technically a private school, tries to get as many of the magical kids from Britain as was possible
(2) dialogue taken from chapter 1 of the manga