~~▫ộ» I solemnly swear I am up to no good «ộ▫~~

Disclaimer: JKR and Bisco Hatori own the rights to all characters contained herein.

PAIRING: Kyouya Ootori[Harry Potter] / Undecided Male

SUMMARY: It didn't take a lot to start over. Taking the place of a sickly child who passed away and modifying the parents' memories was far easier than it should have been. And years in his role was almost enough to make Harry forget who he was entirely. But pasts like his never stay buried forever. /Harry=Kyouya fic/

WARNINGS: Non-Compliances and Spoilers: Canon through OotP, typical Harry-runs-away-after-Ministy fic. I love cliches. All Ouran (anime) backstory is canon but foggy timeline is cemented, as well as most present anime-related events happening as planned. Will diverge slowly from canon and suddenly take a nosedive. Sex: Eventual homosexual relationship, not sure who with yet, that will end up sexual. Tamaki is a strong possibility, to forewarn. Darker themes: This is a warning more for Ouran lovers... Ouran is not a dark place. And while I will attempt to maintain that special humor and spark, this is combined with HP... which gets damn dark. Japanese suffixes: Only suffixes. I just can't... "Mister"? No. I am a purist nerd, and though almost everything translates... but not honorifics. So -sama, -chan, -kun, and -sensei. I'll stay away from any more obscure than that.

Of Glittering Roses and Nonsensical Mushrooms
Kyouya had a little lamb

It shouldn't have been so easy, Harry thought.

"It is... a miracle, Ootori-sama. I see no other way to explain it."

The man – Yoshio Ootori – cut an intimidating figure in his tailored suit. One hand idly stroked his trimmed goatee as he peered over his glasses at Harry. "A miracle, you say?"

The doctor nodded a bit too emphatically, nearly losing his grip on his clipboard with the sway of motion. "The cancer seems to have gone completely into remission. There... there isn't a trace of it left, sir! I've never seen anything like it. Surely more study is needed, but it seems to be unexplainable. If this were duplicable, imagine the profit to the company, Ootori-sama--"

"Enough. Allow me to think of the business implications and do your own job." Those dark eyes didn't leave Harry, who fought the urge to flinch away. The man's eyes seemed dead, hollow. "If there is nothing else, Doctor, I have canceled several important meetings for this."

The doctor paled and flipped through the sheaf of papers, shakily holding it towards Ootori. "N-No, sir. I just need you to sign here and you can take him home."

A sound of disgust left the businessman's throat and he quickly scribbled across the page. "Come, Kyouya."

Harry dropped from the examination table and into a small bow. "Yes, Father."

No, it shouldn't have been so easy to steal the entire life of a nine year old. Since the child had been moments dead when Harry had found the family, he hadn't even been able to study the boy's mannerisms. But all it had taken was some Polyjuice Potion, a translator spell that made Japanese seem like English to him, and an Obliviate to completely integrate himself into the boy's life. What that said about the family's care and attention to the boy was abysmal and nearly disturbing. It had been two weeks as he had simulated slowly gaining health, and already he was entirely accepted as Kyouya Ootori.

But the family suited his needs perfectly. While the Wizarding world searched for a sixteen-year-old green-eyed British boy, he would be safe and undisturbed as a nine-year-old Japanese boy in a wealthy family. Certain... disparities and moodiness were expected from the wealthy, and secrecy and security weren't hard to ensure. And finally, Harry thought, he might be able to capture some of the childhood he'd lost out on the first time around.

"A driver will be here for you in a moment. I have a meeting to attend. I trust you are capable of waiting alone?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Father."

And that simply complacency was all it took. The man slipped into the limo and drove into the distance. Yes, Harry thought... this would work fine.

Age Twelve

Harry pressed the eraser of his pencil to his lips, eyes narrowing down at the algebra equations in front of him. He had never been much for maths, especially when it moved beyond simple, practical equations and into variables. They had only begun to touch such things in his before he had left for Hogwarts, and the Wizarding world didn't have a lot of core subjects. He sighed and put his head down on his arms, taking a moment to breathe.

Life as Kyouya Ootori was not as easy as he had thought it would be. The only example he had ever had of a rich child was Draco Malfoy, and by all accounts the boy had been spoiled, lazy, and unable to err in his family's eyes. He should have researched more before moving into the Japanese culture, especially on the social stigma attached to birth order. As the third son of a business mogul like Yoshio Ootori, Kyouya was not likely to inherit the family business, but he was still supposed to excel in order to support his elder brothers.

This was not all right with Harry.

His hands balled tightly into fists before he consciously willed away the reaction, inhaling slowly through his nose. He heard what his father's associates thought on the matter. Kyouya was meant to fade into the background as some... some bit player and make sure he never surpassed his brothers in any way. If he was lucky, they all thought, Kyouya would be allowed to manage one of the smaller hospitals on the city's outskirts, ready to fill in for his brothers as they needed.

Ambition had never really been a part of Harry's life. But then, in the Wizarding world, there had never been anything to aspire to. He had known his role there from the moment he'd entered, and he had fulfilled that role. Every possible movement had been dogged by his status as 'savior', and every opportunity tainted by the pedestal the Wizarding world had held him on. He had accepted that he would likely never get anywhere in that life.

But as Kyouya Ootori, he refused to bow so easily. Perhaps the Sorting Hat hadn't been so wrong, after all, to say he belonged in Slytherin. Since becoming Kyouya, he had used every ounce of cunning he possessed to learn this new life and to survive under the hard eyes of his father. To hide who he really was and maintain the persona he had created, he had to bow to the strict rules of the Ootori family. But bowing to their expectations did not mean that he was willing to fall in line. He would behave as an Ootori son was expected to... but he would find a way to exceed every whisper and belief.


Harry sat up quickly, smoothing his expression and straightening his tie before turning in his chair. "Yes, Fuyumi-san?" He eyed the older girl, still in the tacky yellow dress that female Ouran High School students had to wear. He was thankful to be male. "Do you require assistance with something?"

She shook her head. "So formal. Can't a sister just check up on her little brother? I wanted to ask how your first day of middle school was." She smiled brilliantly, and Harry had to turn his eyes away. Of all the Ootoris, only Fuyumi struck Harry as genuine. And she cared. She loved him. It was very difficult to accept for someone who had never known familial love.

"It was fine, Fuyumi. And your first day as a senior?"

Her smile managed to grow even brighter. "It was wonderful! Ayame-chan and Fuuka-chan and I are all in the same class, and our homeroom teacher is quite kind. It makes me sad to leave the school, but there just isn't much to do once classes have ended. Ayame-chan thinks I should join band, but I don't really like instruments."

He nodded because it was expected of him. "I am glad you are enjoying it, and I'm sure you will find an after-school activity you enjoy. Have you begun looking into Universities?"

The smile dropped. "U-umm... possibly."

"What's wrong?"

She slid fully into his room now, fingers twisting in front of her. "Brother... I don't know if I will attend a university."

His eyes narrowed on her. He might have only been living with the family for three years, but he knew just how taboo it was for an Ootori – an Ootori! – to suggest not attending higher education. He stood quickly and slid his door closed, resisting the urge to pull out his wand and cast a silencing charm on the room. "Fuyumi, have you lost your mind? Can you imagine how Father would react if you--"

"I know, Kyouya!" She was visibly struggling to keep her voice down. "I know. But what will I go to be? I want... a family. Surely Father can approve of that."

Harry shook his head lightly, arms crossing over his chest. "And just who do you think to start this family with? If you are not to attend a University, Father won't hesitate to marry you to whomever will procure him the best alliance. Is that what you want for yourself?"

She mumbled a name under her breath, but quickly looked up to meet Harry's eyes, her lip caught between her teeth. "Please, just don't tell Father. I haven't made a decision yet and... I might change my mind."

Harry highly doubted that. But he sighed, unfolding his arms and twitching with a want to touch her arm. He usually was not very tactile, but this girl, his sister, reminded him so clearly of Hermione sometimes that it hurt him. No, not in personality so much, but in mannerisms and in the size of her heart she was so like her. But he resisted the odd impulse, moving instead to slide back into his seat. "If that is all, I need to finish my schoolwork."

"On your first day?"

"It is next week's assignment."

Footsteps for a moment before arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind and a soft fall of black hair tickled his cheek. "Don't work so hard, Kyouya-chan. You work and work and work... you need an outlet. A hobby. Something to keep you from losing your mind, little brother."

He allowed himself a bare moment to enjoy the rare embrace before shrugging her off lightly. "I have a goal to focus on, and that will be enough."

"I hope you realize how wrong that is someday, Kyouya."

He didn't turn to look at her as she swept back towards the door, clicking it softly shut behind her.

Age 15

"Expecto Patronum."

Conjugating the Latin words had become difficult after years of speaking almost solely Japanese, but the practice he upheld on his magic kept him at least remembering the tones and movements of his lips. The stag burst from his wand with a spectacular light, dancing around the small, warded room Harry had set aside for this very reason. He was thankful that the legal age for practicing magic was fifteen in Japan, because he didn't know how he would have lasted his first year without a single spell, let alone the last six.

The stag ran in a loping gait around him, chin pressed high and antlers spread majestically. Harry bowed to the spell-light and smiled when it returned the gesture as it dissipated.

But doing the Patronus had been for himself, and now he needed to get back to his studies before he had to leave for school. He'd missed all his NEWT courses, after all, and he badly needed to work on his magic. While he found little use for it in his day-to-day that wouldn't make people suspicious, that didn't mean it would always be so.

He sighed as he flipped through his Charms text, irritated at the meaninglessness of the spells. Charming flowers to glitter? Creating plant life? Growing mushrooms without the right conditions? Granted, had he not given up on potions as he had, that one might have a practical use. But so many of the others spells seemed to be decorative and useless things that it was almost sickening to Harry.

But he needed to work on Charms and Transfiguration before he went to work on his regular school load. He found a very large flaw in his Translator spell in which his Japanese Language courses were almost impossible for him. He had cheated to learn the language, and he paid for it now. To him, Japanese was much like Parseltongue. He didn't notice that he spoke it and no one else sounded like they were speaking it either, and had he not put the spell on himself, he might have been tempted to think they were all simply speaking English. On that note, he much preferred his English courses, where he could easily fly through the tests.

Harry pushed the more-or-less useless Charms book to the side and pulled forward his Transfiguration text, flipping to the small wiggling bookmark he'd used. He sighed as he looked down at the next chapter, "Transfiguration for Every Day Life!". The first section was on clothing and transfiguring it. Harry made a face. He was an Ootori, he had no use for creating his clothing. If he needed new clothing, he would commission the fashionista Yuzuha Hitachiin to design an outfit for him.

Harry paused in mid-thought, swallowing. Had he really just thought that? Fingers laced through polyjuiced hair, the same color as his natural hair but so much finer. In the years since he had become Kyouya Ootori, he had found himself falling more and more into his life. First it had been a realization that without him, this family would have suffered a great loss. And so, Harry had decided it wasn't so bad if he let them become family to him. They were distant (barring Fuyumi) and cold, and it was easy enough to call them family in his mind so that he didn't slip in speech or manner.

But slowly, it seemed more and more that this life was his. Only five years and he already found himself thinking as if he was Kyouya Ootori. That Fuyumi really was his sister, that Yoshio was really his father whom he strove to impress, to exceed.

He enjoyed being Kyouya Ootori. He had a family, no matter how distant, and he had a home and a future. Five years ago, Harry might not have thought he could fall into someone else's life so easily, not with the horrible burden of being Harry Potter on his shoulders, not with Sirius hardly dead, not with a madman on his heels, breathing down his neck... but now that he was there, it seemed natural. And it was more his life than Harry Potter's ever had been.

He was Kyouya.

There were no bedtime stories told of Kyouya Ootori, no world's fate on his shoulders. He could be rude when a person annoyed him, he could favor whatever he liked and act as he saw fit. When he noted down every detail of the lives and personalities his classmates that came from influential families, it was for his own sake. It was only his own future he toyed with.

Harry picked up the small bottle from beside his homework and took a swig of the polyjuice potion, face twisting into a grimace. At least it didn't make him gag anymore. He was also glad that such a small amount was needed to keep him in his affected form, and that he could use hair trimmings from the polyjuiced body to make new batches. He had ordered almost an entire year's supply from several vendors when he had begun his new life, but to keep any magical people off his trail, he had had to become competent in potions before that supply had run out. It hadn't been nearly as hard as he'd thought it would be, though Harry was sure that Snape no longer breathing down his neck had a lot to do with that.

Harry chose to ignore the six batches that had blown up or failed miserably before he had gotten it right.

Now that he thought of it, he needed to begin on another batch soon. One large cauldron lasted anywhere from three to six months with proper preservation, but he didn't want to cut it close and risk needing a potion that took a month to make in under that.

He furrowed his brow as he levitated an extra pencil, twirling his wand as the book instructed. When the pencil twisted into a pretzel that was most certainly not a swatch of material, Harry groaned. Even the most inane of spells was stumping him today.

But tomorrow would be better. It always was.

The knock on the door made him turn. "Yes?"

"Kyouya-sama, your father requests your presence at breakfast," the muffled voice of one of the maids called to him.

Harry pulled out his wand and reset all the invisibility wards. "I will be right there." That was odd. Usually he could study undisturbed in the mornings. He shrugged it off and gathered the things he would need for the day. Why did he feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice?

Sometimes, Harry was sure he jinxed himself.

Yoshio stared down his nose towards Kyouya. "Today is when Suoh's son was going to transfer into your school, right? We have done a lot of business with the Suoh Group over the years; our ties run deep. We also compete in many areas. It would not hurt for you to befriend the boy. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Harry had always had confidence that while he could see through people, none could see through him. It should have been easy to befriend a halfwit like Tamaki Suoh... but nothing should be this easy.

"Thank you, Ootori-kun! You're a good friend; my best friend! Hey, I know: to make us closer, why don't you let me call you by your first name now? Bravo! Kyouya! Mon ami – mon ami! Yahoo!!!"

His last year of middle school suddenly felt like it would never end.

A/N: Just a prologue; being in the present will explain more on Kyouya-Harry's mindset, his reasons, his feelings on his past and present. This was just to introduce you to the idea.

This posting is a placeholder. It is a way to gauge interest and for people to Alert so they know when I continue, since my main fic is over and readers were interested in this and others.

See you soon, loves. :)