Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either Ouran High School Host Club or Harry Potter.

Let the games begin!

Playing: Keep The Faith – Bon Jovi

Chapter 1 - Espresso Blood

'Dear Harry,

Sorry about the handwriting. You know that my writing isn't good, and this ink thing just makes it even -' There was a huge splodge of ink that obscured the next few words.

'Sorry. The feather thing broke.

I don't know much about owls, I have no idea what to do about... Hedwig, I think? She seems to like it here, Mum gets a bit freaked out when she eats my bacon though. She stays in my room, I think Dad would start attacking her with the broom if she stayed downstairs.

It's probably a bit late to say it, but thanks for, you know, saving my life. Yeah.

Anyway, my parents got me this for my birthday, but what am I gonna do with it? I know that you're fighting that Voldysomething guy, so I reckon you need it more. It's supposed to be pretty good anyway, so yeah. It was Granddad's – our granddad, I mean, Mum's dad. He fought in WWII, so, yeah, he has stuff like this. I have a few of his medals, so if you manage to stay alive, then I suppose you can see them.

Don't tell mum or dad that I sent this to you. Harry Birthday.


Harry blinked at the letter, slightly surprised at the piece of parchment that Hedwig had thrown at him, and rubbed his head absently as he picked up the parcel wrapped in brown paper and string that the temperamental owl had also dropped. Dudley sent him a letter? He smiled at the awkwardly written missive, understanding and appreciating Dudley's attempts to reconcile.

"Well, who was it?" Ron held his hand out expectantly and Harry passed the letter on. "Open the package then, I wanna know what it is."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he undid the string anyway and pulled off the paper. When he opened the box, his eyebrows shot up and a mad grin appeared on his face. His friends looked at each other cautiously. "Oh hell yes, Dudley..."

"What? What is it?" Hermione jumped off the bed and walked over to the window where he was sitting, and screamed.

"A gun? You got a gun as a present?"

"I know, isn't it great?"

"No, you sadist, no! Who gets a gun for their seventeenth birthday?" Ginny dragged her chair across the floor to the window, taking Luna, who was sitting on her lap, with her. Fred and George apparated into the room, wearing goggles and lab coats.

"Heard you screaming, Granger," said Fred, pulling his goggles off his face and running a stained hand through his hair.

"Be thankful that the potion is stable, otherwise it'd have exploded the second your dulcet tones rang through the house." Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what sort of potion they were making, then looked back at the gun he was holding reverently. I have a gun!

"So, what's the issue?"

"Harry got a bloody gun and will you stop looking so happy, damnit!" Hermione ripped the gun out of his hands, then realised she was holding a gun and dropped it, shrinking away. Harry laughed, and she glared at him.

"Uh, I think we're missing something here, but–"

"–what's a 'gun'?"

"I have no idea, but it looks pretty," said Luna, sliding off Ginny's lap and onto the floor, picking up the gun and inadvertently flicking the safety. Hermione yelped and snatched the gun off the blonde girl, flicking the safety again and sighing in relief.

"It's a dangerous muggle weapon, not a toy. Bloody hell Harry, why are you so happy?"

"Becuase I finally have a gun! A gun of my own!" Harry stood up, his eyes shining. "This is amazing, I'm finally gonna be able to train with my own gun, and you guys can learn with me! We can shoot people!"

Luna, Ginny and the twins cheered, not quite knowing why they were cheering but liking the sound of shooting people.

"I'm going to call her Vera," said Harry dreamily, taking the gun from Hermione's calloused hands and stroking it lovingly.

"Oh, hey, the letter's from Dudley! What did he get you then, Harry?" Ron finally looked up from the letter. "Wait, why are the twins here?" Harry gave him a deadpan look.

Hermione started to bang her head against the wall.

"Good morning, Bambi!" Harry's eyes snapped open at the sunny tone and the last remnants of his dream faded away. He groaned at the sudden heavy weight on his chest. It was too early for this.

"Get-off-you-prat-argh!" The 150 pound man didn't move, instead choosing to cross his arms and jump up and down. Harry swore loudly.

"Oh very mature," said Sirius, tapping his godson's nose.

"You have no right to talk, you're sitting on me! What are you, five?"

"Thirty eight, actually, it was my birthday in June. What kind of godson are you?"

"Shut up, the only reason you know my birthday is because you have it tattooed on your arm."

Sirius raised his hands and grinned sheepishly. "Guilty as charged," said the man, still not moving from his godson's bed.

Harry shoved Sirius off, ignoring the man's yelp as his face hit the floor. He wearily pushed his blankets away and stood up, stretching. "What time is it?"

"7:50 in the morning, so you've got plenty of time to get ready for your new school!" Sirius rolled on the floor so that he was facing up. He punched at the ceiling heartily and watched with mischievous grey eyes as his godson pulled a pair of clean grey trousers and a crisp white shirt out of his wardrobe.

"You're too cheerful for a Monday morning," said Harry lethargically. "Now get out, I need to get changed." Harry held open his door in an obvious gesture.

"Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. I'll get started on breakfast," replied Sirius, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding out into the hallway.

"Don't you dare, you'll put cyanide into it," Harry glared at him as he closed the door, remembering Sirius's disastrous attempts at cooking.

"Character building!" retorted the older man, laughing. He pushed the door to the kitchen and pulled out a frying pan. Sirius opened the fridge and gazed with wonder at the wide array of food – he still hadn't gotten used to muggle technology. Bacon sounded good to him, so he pulled out the pack and chucked it onto the table. He switched on the radio and grinned at the sound of Mozart – Remus must have come home last night.

Things hadn't always been this perfect. Here in Japan, the mismatched, dysfunctional family of three were happy, but in Britain, things had been very different. The world had been in war ever since 19 June, three years ago – the day after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Harry had been right in the middle of it, with most of the world sticking him on a pedestal in the hope that he would save the world. He had risen to the challenge admirably, leading the DA and somehow managing to stay alive throughout Voldemort's attacks. The wizarding world had been shocked at the devastating damage the group of teenagers had left in their wake, and a little bit horrified at the scale of destruction that muggle warfare led to.

The war had left them all damaged, but they managed to get through in their own way, developing quirks that kept them all relatively sane. The change from war to peacetime was difficult but manageable, and they still cultivated the skills and abilities that they had discovered in the wartime. Sirius and Remus had never been prouder of the teenagers that had managed to find their calling and with such finesse too.

"Something's burning," said Harry blandly, looking down and fixing his striped tie as he walked into the kitchen. Sirius snapped out of his musing and looked back down at the frying pan, where the six raw rashers of bacon had turned into black crisps stuck to the surface. He cursed, and quickly turned off the cooker. Sirius pulled the kitchen knife out of the drawer and began the difficult task of scraping the burnt food off the pan.


"I told you not to cook; you haven't got the hang of Muggle cooking yet." Harry's voice was muffled as he bent over to take out another pan from the cupboard. "Where's Vera?"

"She's in the fridge, why?" Sirius paused in his labour to frown at his godson.

"I had a dream about getting her, I think it means something." With one shoe on and the other being tied at the same time, Harry awkwardly hopped his way to the fridge and pulled out Vera, wiping off the cold moisture. He shoved the Colt M1911 down the back of his trousers and shivered at the sudden cold that ran up his spine.

"Finally listening to Luna, huh? If you're taking Vera, then stick Tony in the fridge instead." Harry did as Sirius said and pulled out one of the guns from the spices cupboard and put it in the fridge instead.

"I always listen to Luna," said Harry grinning, and Sirius laughed. The odd blonde girl had always had a strong ability in Divination, something that bothered Hermione, who still thought of the subject as useless. Even so, Luna had told Harry to pay attention to his dreams on many occasions, threatening his manly parts with various pointy objects until he agreed. "Should I make bacon, then?"

"Yep, Moony's back and you know how much he needs meat after a full moon."

"Fair enough, can you make the tea?"

"Which one, the Japanese have loads."

"Uh, green should be fine."

Ten minutes passed comfortably in relative silence, as the bacon sizzled and the water boiled. Before long a bedraggled, exhausted Remus dragged himself into the kitchen, his nose twitching at the scent of meat. He flopped into the chair and slumped over the table, his hand grabbing at the cup that Sirius laid in front of him. Chucking a piece of newly made toast at his godfather, Harry chewed his own toast slowly and grinned at the sight of a dishevelled Remus, who was normally cool and composed. He ignored the twinge of sympathy at the new lacerations on his bare arm. Remus hated pity, and his wounds would soon be cleaned anyway.

A loud clink brought Remus's attention away from the steaming tea to the bacon sandwich that had been plonked in front of him, and he smiled wearily at the boy who was nothing less than his nephew. Sirius ruffled the messy sandy hair on his head and he coughed angrily, his throat too raw to do anything else. Harry took the seat next to him and opened the health kit that was constantly being added to, pulling out some cotton balls and a bottle of muggle antiseptic. Remus had found that muggle medicine worked best when it came to him, because his lycanthropy had changed his body so that it rejected any sort of magic – in fact, magic often made the wound or the illness worse. The only reason Wolfsbane worked was because it was completely made out of 'muggle' elements, there was no magic in the potion. He winced at the sharp sting from the antiseptic, and smiled as Harry hastily apologised. That boy was far too responsible.

"It's our little boy's first day of school, Remus!" Sirius exclaimed in a high falsetto, and Remus smirked at the boy sitting next to him, knowing what pun was coming next. "Ickle Harry's all grown up, well, not grown up–"

Harry threw the tub of burn cream at him, and Sirius ducked, laughing. "Screw you, Padfoot, stop making fun of my height."

"But it's too easy!" Harry had only grown six inches since Sirius had first seen him out of Azkaban, which meant that Harry stood at a diminutive 5'4" – something which bothered him immensely. Ron, Sirius and the twins towered over him, and took great pleasure in using his head as an arm rest. Even Hermione and Ginny were taller than him – only Luna was shorter than him, by just half an inch, which she solved easily by wearing three inch red heels that Ginny had bought for her – something Harry couldn't get away with doing. "Anyway, once you're done with Remus's wounds, he'll take you to Ouran."

Remus's head snapped round to stare at the dog animagus in confusion. "What?" he croaked out.

"Well, I'm not taking him! He'll contaminate my car with his virgin germs." Remus groaned and Harry complained loudly.

"Oh come on, just because I'm not a manwhore like you!"

"I'm not a manwhore, I've just been cursed with an asexual godson. Help me out here Remus!"

"No," said Remus, his throat feeling a little better with every sip of green tea he took. Merlin, the Japanese were geniuses. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard, you're taking him to school."

"You take him!"

"I get a taxi to work, and besides, the hospital is in the complete opposite direction! The police station is in Bunkyo, at least."

"It's fine," said Harry shutting the medical kit with a snap. "I'll walk." He shrunk away from their combined glares as they stopped arguing to stare at him in horror.

"It's raining buckets Harry; you're not walking in this weather."

"Bambi, it's tipping it down outside, and those are brand new shoes, you're not ruining them! Do you know how much they cost?"

"You'll catch a cold, and you're not taking anymore Pepper-Up, not after all the late nights you've had – you'll never sleep again."

"20,800 yen! Italian leather, Harry, do you know how hard it is to clean?"

"Alright, alright!" Harry raised his hands in surrender and grinned at their overbearing mothering. "I won't walk then."

Remus stopped glaring at Harry, instead turning his sight to Sirius. Sirius flinched under what he had dubbed the Death Glare, something which Remus, Lily and Hermione had all mastered. "Ok, ok, I'll take him to school!"

The werewolf smiled into his teacup as Sirius moaned. "Damnit Remus, I hate you! If I come back a virgin, I'm blaming you."

"Whatever you say, Padfoot. Now get going, it's 8:15, and your school starts at 8:30. Go to Teuchi's after school, I'll meet you there."

"Ok, bye Remus!" The werewolf waved tiredly at Harry as he left the kitchen, followed by Sirius, who was tying the laces on his shoes.

"Have you got everything, then?" Sirius rifled through his pocket and fished out his car keys in triumph. He tossed them in the air and caught them again.


"Blazer? Bag? Wallet?" Harry showed him each of the items in affirmation.

"Yep, yep and yep."

"Let's go then! Excited?" said Sirius as he shoved his godson through the open door frame. He laughed at Harry's protests at being manhandled. They made their way down the apartment stairs, pushing and shoving each other.

"Not really," said Harry, once he was strapped into the car. Sirius started up the car and pulled out smoothly, making his way onto the main road and to Ouran Academy. Harry reached over and switched on the music player, letting AC/DC fill the car. Sirius's love of classic rock had never abated, and he had converted Harry with him. "I'll stick out like a wizard at King's Cross Station. It's a school for rich people, and I'm still not used to being rich."

"Well, I am," Harry snorted at the less-than-modest statement, "and let me tell you, a lot of rich people are very interesting. They can afford to be eccentric, and word-play is nothing for them. They have to be careful about what they say, and each word has about ten different meanings, it makes them entertaining to talk to. Besides, Ouran is a school of elitism and lineage, not just money. Apparently yakuza heirs are in the school, though they are in the lower classes."

"Wait, you mean yakuza, as in, crime syndicates?"


"Whoa..." Harry sat in stunned silence. "That's amazing."

"I know, right? Ouran isn't just for rich people, in the same way Hogwarts isn't just for purebloods."

"Right..." Harry suddenly felt bad for grouping all the students into one category. It had been unintentional, but it was the same sort of thing that he hated. "Damn, I'm stupid."

"Yes you are, but in this case it excusable, it's a new school, in a new country, and besides, you only really had the chairman and the principal as examples of what Ouran was like. You just need to make sure that you figure out what all of Ouran is like. There are four sets of classes, remember–"

"– A, B, C and D, right. Each student is placed accordingly based on their lineage, wealth, status and intelligence."

"... Merlin, you spend too much time with Remus, that came straight from the prospectus."

"Screw you."

"Right. You're in 3-A, but 3-D probably has very different people in it. Get to know everyone."

"Easier said than done," shrugged Harry. "A year of living in remote places has done nothing for my social skills."

There was a pause, then, "That was part of the reason we stopped moving." Harry looked at his godfather, confused.


"You're eighteen, it's an impressionable age. Neither of us wanted you to spend the rest of your life running from fans and Death Eaters, it's not ideal."

"It worked for me."

"Now, maybe, but not forever. You already left the DA behind, and you can't keep running." Harry was silent, contemplating Sirius's words. "Harry?"

"No, it's fine, you're right. I understand. You wanted me to have a life, right?"

"Right. Your social skills are shot to hell right now, but you can change that. It's doubtful you could do that if you were any older. This way, you can stop running."

The two fell silent, letting the rock music fly over them. Sirius suddenly laughed. "Damn, I'm no good at this sort of stuff, Remus was supposed to explain this."

"Was Remus supposed to give me the Talk as well?" said Harry cheekily. Sirius chuckled, remembering the red face that they both sported.

"Speaking of, why haven't you gotten started on your birthday present yet?" Harry groaned, and slammed his head against the tinted window. For his eighteenth, Sirius had very kindly given his godson a leather jacket, and wand holster and three boxes of condoms. Harry had tried to burn the condoms but they had stayed intact.

"Shut up, you pervert."

"I mean it! Some of those high school girls look amazing, you should be getting busy Bambi! I know I was when I was your age."

"Merlin, if you weren't driving right now I would punch in the face." Sirius sniggered.

"I know, that's why I'm saying this now. So, how do you like the uniform?" Harry gave his godfather a flat stare.

"Don't patronise me, you git." Sirius grinned, remembering Harry's very vocal complaints about the showy baby blue blazers. Remus had agreed with Harry's argument that he'd be seen from a mile away, but had soon reminded him that the only other choice was the girls' uniform, and Sirius showed him a picture of the dresses that resembled lemon meringues. Harry had shut up after that.

"Right, technical stuff. Go through the main entrance when you get there, the reception should be right there. Tell them your name and they'll give you your timetable. Ask for a map, it's a pretty big place."

"I'll be fine, I got through Hogwarts, didn't I?"

"With Hermione's help."

"... Shut up."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harry felt a familiar tingle in his stomach as Sirius pulled up near the ornate gates of Ouran Academy. Sirius was right, the place was huge, but he knew that it was actually four schools – Elementary, Middle School, High School and College. He would be in his last year of High School here. Harry undid his seatbelt and stepped out the car, slinging his backpack across his shoulders. He sighed. "Why is the school pink?"

Sirius pulled away, laughing. "Have a good day, Bambi!"

"Class 3-A, this is your new classmate, Potter Harry." Harry tried not to wilt under the curious gazes of thirty new faces. They all looked quite pleasant, but Harry wondered what they were really thinking. He gave them a rigid smile, and winced when he heard a few dreamy sighs. More than a few of the girls in his class looked starry-eyed, which bothered him quite a bit, but at least it wasn't because of his name – they were starry-eyed before the teacher introduced him.

"He looks nice, Takashi," whispered a small boy clutching a large pink plush bunny. He sat near the back of the class, so his comment was all but unheard, except to a tall boy with dark spiky hair sitting next to him.

"Aah," said the young man that the boy had called Takashi. The new student looked accustomed to, albeit weary of, the female attention that his appearance had resulted in.

"There's an empty seat near the back, you can sit there." He looked where the teacher had pointed and hid a grin when he saw that to the left of the desk sat a boy who was a head less than Harry's height – finally, somebody who was shorter than him! His gaze went further left and his inner euphoria disappeared with a flash. That boy was nearly as tall as Ron, if not the same height. Harry sighed and manoeuvred his way through the rows of desks, dropping his backpack onto the desk the teacher had pointed out. He pulled out his pencil case and a fresh notebook, and slumped into the chair as if he was boneless. He quickly scrawled down the date and prepared for an everyday lesson in statistics.

It was as boring as he had suspected. Mentally, he drew parallels between his new maths teacher and the late Professor Sprout – both homely, sweet women who loved their subject. Still, maths had never interested him; it had always taken several promises of new weapons from Remus to even get him to think about simultaneous equations and like terms. It had always been Hermione's area of expertise, arithmancy was her favourite subject.

The classroom was pretty nice – there was a blackboard and an electronic whiteboard next to it, which Harry remembered from his days in primary school. The desks were laid out in uniform rows, and they were very sturdy as well – they all looked brand new. In the height of his boredom, he would probably end up drawing on his desk. The door was easy to get to, and the windows looked as if they were made from toughened glass, which was a feature Harry hadn't expected. Maybe the crazy anglophile principal that Harry hadn't exactly been impressed by got something right after all.

Harry answered questions when required, but didn't take many notes – instead he used his notebook to doodle aimlessly, drawing snitches and various people ingesting various pranks, courtesy of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes – Canary Creams, Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats were only a few of the things he subjected his poor drawings to.

"Class is over, Potter-san, you can stop pretending to pay attention now." An unexpected shadow covered his notebook, and Harry looked up to see the small boy that had sat next to him standing in front of desk. He wasn't the cause of the shadow, though – it was the freakishly tall boy that had sat right next to window obscuring his view. He flushed as he realised what the boy had said, and looked around to see that class was indeed over.

"Ah, thank you for telling me," said Harry in fluent Japanese. Languages had always come easily to Harry, and it helped that Luna had forced Remus and Sirius to learn Japanese with him for a reason that she didn't quite explain back when he was sixteen.

"It's ok, that's what classmates do!" The small boy had a very pleasant disposition, and Harry couldn't help but be slightly cheered up. For some reason, he was holding a pink plush bunny that was nearly as big as him, but Harry couldn't judge him – Charlie Weasley had an obsession with dragons, and baby dragons often found his ginger hair to be a suitable place for a nap. Compared to dragons, plush bunnies were harmless. "That's an interesting name, Potter-san, where are you from?"

"I'm from England," said Harry, inwardly marvelling at his ability not to stutter. He managed to stop his awkwardness at even having the conversation from shining through every word he said, but it must have been at least partially noticeable, because the small boy (whose name he still hadn't asked) frowned.

"Do you not like talking, Potter-san?"

"Uh, it's a bit... unfamiliar..." said Harry edgily. Merlin, he was such an idiot. Why was he even here? There was no way he'd be able to get past his gracelessness.

"That's ok!" said the small boy cheerfully, much to Harry's surprise. His entire expression lightened again, and Harry swore he could see flowers surrounding him. "Takashi doesn't like talking much either, do you?" he said to the tall boy standing behind him, who had remained silently impassive throughout the entire conversation.

"Aah," the tall boy said, and when he said nothing after his one word Harry realised why the small boy had been so unperturbed at his unquiet. He gave them a tight smile, still not completely comfortable around the cheerful boy and his silent counterpart.

"Thank you for telling me about class ending," said Harry, abruptly standing up and shoving his notebook into his bag along with his pencil case, taking no notice of the boy's surprised expression. He made his way out of the classroom and sighed, relieved to be out of the limelight.. He paused, realising too late that his hasty ending of their conversation probably seemed very rude. Harry shrugged, and carried on walking to his next class.

It was lunch, and Harry was very close to walking out of the door and running back to the apartment.

It had been a year since he had attended school. He had been very happy being homeschooled, but he knew that if he was to become a permanent citizen, then it would help if he actually got a social life. It was difficult, though. Harry had never been very sociable, preferring to sit on the sidelines and listen to the conversations around him. It had always been Sirius and to some extent Remus who talked to people. When they had been travelling, it had just been the three of them and some parchment for letters. He didn't do talking. He wasn't that sort of person, he just didn't know what to say. He preferred listening.

Of course, being thrust into a school full of students looking to make contacts for the future was not very sensible. Every time he stepped out into the hallway, there were at least a dozen people saying hello and waving. He couldn't help his sudden tensing, but he waved back anyway, knowing that if he did it would seem rude – he didn't want a repeat of this morning, thank you very much. He had received three love letters from girls that he had only seen once. Once, on his first day here. It worried him that these girls would pour their hearts out to somebody they had never talked to.

Perhaps he should have gone to that magical school instead.

Harry's stomach protested at his heavy thinking, and he promptly speared a piece of haddock from his chosen 'Set A Meal'. Harry loved food. Back when he had still lived with the Dursleys, cooking had been his escape, his way of winning against them. Aunt Petunia often forced him to cook, but she wasn't really forcing him, because he would have done it willingly. After the war, his love for cooking intensified, becoming an outlet for him to remain sane. He enjoyed cooking – there was something magical about discovering new tastes and understanding the different ingredients and measurements. In a way, it was just like making potions, and though his experience with potions had been marred by Severus Snape, he still loved cooking.

He put the fish in his mouth, and paused. That... was good food. Flavours exploded in his mouth, setting his taste buds alight. Merlin, he would have to try making this, it was too good not to try. He took the fork out of his mouth, but froze when he felt a familiar shiver run across the back of his neck. Somebody was staring at him.

Harry opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – to glare at the guilty party. It was a group of boys wearing khaki – the two boys from his class were sitting with them – on the table to his right. A chill ran down his spine and he fought the urge to check that Vera was still in his waistband. Damn it Harry, not everybody's hostile, said the sane, civilian part of his mind. The War of Terror, as muggles had taken to calling the Second Wizarding War, had been horrible, and had done nothing good for a growing teenage boy who had been thrust right in the middle of it. Harry had been left paranoid and unsociable, with a tendency to distrust everybody new. Only his family and those he had fought alongside were not victim to his cold, unfriendly manner, but it was only natural for him to look for potential escape routes and weaknesses in everybody he met.

The only reason he hadn't pulled out Vera by now and shot them all in the knees was because he was trying not to gain any attention, and shooting a group of boys that had the undivided attention of a lot of the girls in the canteen seemed contradictory.

Merlin, I need help, thought Harry sadly as he looked back down at his plate. His appetite was nearly completely gone. He sighed and picked up his tray, taking it to the lunch lady near the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to his class, the slight good mood that had surfaced from his lunch all but gone.

"Did you see that, Tono?" whispered Hikaru furtively. "That was the creepiest stare ever!"

"He's right," Kaoru agreed, "that guy's weird. And he's British."

Kyoya turned a page of his notebook, and scribbled something down. "Kaoru is correct, there's a very good chance that Potter-san was evacuated along with most of Britain during the War of Terror."

"But that probably gives him an edge!" squealed Tamaki. "The war-hardened teenager, he probably has scars! He'll be a huge hit with the ladies."

"I don't know, he didn't really like talking, and Hosts have to do that a lot..." Hani played with the icing on his cupcake, and Mori gave him a concerned look, which looked just like his other looks.

"It would be a waste to have him in the club if he didn't talk. He would scare away all the customers." A glint of light obscured Kyoya's eyes from view, and the Host Club shivered at the Cool Type's cold dismissal of the new student.

"...well, what else do you know about Potter-san?" Hikaru took a long drink from his cup.

Kyoya pushed his glasses up, his displeasure clear in his voice. "There wasn't much information on him, nor his family. He lives with his godfather, Black Sirius, and a family friend, Lupin Remus."

"Black..." muttered Tamaki thoughtfully. "I recognise that name..."

"You would. The Noble House of Black is extremely powerful, with enough money to buy a small country. Their lineage dates back to the twelfth century, and they are connected to English royalty. Black-san is the last remaining Black, and is the Head. I assume his godson is his heir. The Potters are not quite as impressive, but they also have a large fortune, with high involvement in genetics and law enforcement. Potter-san is the only Potter left."

The Host Club sat in stunned silence. Potter-san was the heir to such a prestigious line, as well as his own? Then Tamaki remembered the rest of Kyoya's information.

"What about the other, Lupin Remus? You said he had two guardians."

"I did. Lupin-san is a commoner. He has no pedigree to speak of, nor any fortune. He works in a private hospital."

"He has a job?"

"As does Black-san, he works as part of an elite police force. There wasn't much information on that either."

"... I'm kinda intimidated about asking him to join the Host Club," said Hikaru slowly. Kaoru nodded.

"Then we won't ask him," Tamaki decided.

"What? But you spent ages screaming about getting him to join!"

"We're even wearing khaki! Who wears khaki to lunch?" Hikaru and Kaoru stood up in unison, taking their trays with them. Tamaki ran after them, and Kyoya followed at a more leisurely pace. Mori waited for Hani to finish off his cake before following the rest of the Host Club, and all the while, the rest of the school stared in awe and wondered why the Host Club was wearing khaki.

"No no no, you've got it all wrong. We won't ask him."

"Eh?" said the twins in sync.

"We'll get a rumour going around that we're asking Potter-san to join, and then when he hears it he'll be so enchanted by the idea that he'll join!" Tamaki struck a pose, confident that his plan would work.

"Your plan stinks," deadpanned Hikaru and Kaoru with bored looks on their face. Tamaki slammed back into the wall, suddenly depressed. "Hey Kaoru, I have an idea! Let's get a rumour going around that we want Potter-san to join the Host Club. Then when he hears, he'll be curious and we can drag him in!" Tamaki started to grow mushrooms, and several girls clustered around him to see what was wrong.

"Brilliant idea!" The two redheads began whispering loud enough for the girls gathered around Tamaki to perk up and notice what they were saying. Potter-san, the moody British boy, join the Host Club? This was definitely worth spreading.

"Now now, Hikaru, Kaoru, let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Kyoya with an wicked smile, a glint on his glasses. His hands caught the shoulders of the twins, who audibly gulped and looked up at him cautiously. The rest of the Host Club winced. "Who gave you permission to spread that rumour?"

"Harry-san, that's a very nice uniform! New school?" The owner of the cafe that was named after him smiled as Harry pushed open the door to Teuchi's.

"Yep," said Harry, worn out from his first day of school. He pulled out his usual chair at the table in the corner near the counter, and slumped forward, dropping his head into his arms. Teuchi laughed.

Teuchi's was a place that he visited often, whenever he wanted to get away from the bustling street life of Bunkyo. Teuchi's was one of the places that served food, and though it wasn't unique in catering to magical folk as well as muggles, Harry spent a lot time there nearly every day. When Sirius had first brought Harry here, he had been apprehensive, convinced that Teuchi and his daughter Ayame who waitressed, wanted something from him. Sirius dragged him out of the apartment every day after their first meeting, and before long, Harry had realised that Teuchi and Ayame were honest civilians, and they wanted nothing from him apart from his money.

Teuchi's was comfortable, and neither Remus nor Sirius did any work at home – instead they had a table in the corner where they always worked, stocking up with caffeine whilst they slaved away at paperwork. It was generally quiet in Teuchi's and the people were pleasant, which was why Harry often came with his guardians. It was a good way for him to get out of the apartment.

"So, you ordering anything today?" Harry peeked through his curtain of black hair to see Ayame, the only waitress who worked in the cafe. Teuchi's was strictly a family business, and Teuchi's wife, before she had gotten ill, refused to hire anyone else, as Ayame often despaired to him on her break. She was a pretty girl, as Sirius had noticed, and she had expertly warded off both his attempts to flirt with her and set her up with Harry.

"No way, you money thieving hag," said Harry with a tired grin on his face. Ayame hit him with her notebook and stalked off, a wide smile on her face.

Harry nodded off for a while after that. The day had been tiring – after his sparse lunch where his appetite had disappeared, Harry had noticed that he was getting a lot more looks from the girls, and they were whispering something about a Host Club, whatever that was. He had sat through History and English trying not to twitch as he felt their stares. He had practically ran out of the school when the bell had rung, remembering to go to Teuchi's, which he knew wasn't far from Ouran.

A bell jingled as the door opened and Harry looked up to see Remus walk in, carrying a briefcase. "Good afternoon, Ayame-san," said the sandy-haired man. The young woman turned from where she was mopping up a bit of Espresso Blood that one of the nightly vampire customers had spilt to see Remus and Harry grinned when he saw a faint dusting of pink appear on her cheeks. Remus pulled out the chair opposite and sat down smoothly, looking much better than he did in the morning.

"H-hello Remus-san, can I get you anything?"

"A cup of mocha would be nice. Heavy on the chocolate, please." Harry rolled his eyes at Remus, knowing very well how much he loved chocolate. He pulled himself upright and kicked Remus's leg when he started to pull out papers from his briefcase.

"You're looking better."

"What can I say, helping people feel better makes me feel good. How was your day?"


"Oh? How so? Thank you," said Remus with a smile, looking up at the young woman who had just handed him a steaming mug. She blushed and quickly walked away to the room behind the counter. Teuchi grinned at his blushing daughter.

"I'd forgotten how odd it is to be surrounded by civilians, Remus." Remus put down his paperwork and looked at Harry seriously. "At lunch, a group of boys were all staring at me, and I had to stop myself from pulling out Vera."

"Oh, so you took Vera to school? I thought it was Sirius," said Remus lightly, looking back at his paperwork. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and started to write.

"Remus, be serious!"

"But I'm Remus, I can't be Sirius." Harry glared at him, and Remus chuckled, still not looking up.

"I could have killed them! I could have shot them all!"

"No, you couldn't have. You have very good instincts, Harry, but even you would balk at shooting civilians. You're too good for that." Remus took a sip from his cup and smiled at Harry's disbelieving expression. "I doubt even the Imperius could force you to kill innocents."

"You have too much faith in me, Moony. What if something does happen? Maybe today I didn't, but what about tomorrow? Those triggers you talked about, what if somebody sets it off? What if I do accidently hurt someone?"

"Then, like you said, it'll be accidental. The Japanese won't hold it against you, war leaves scars and even if Japan doesn't participate in wars anymore, they still know what it's like. And we're working on the triggers."

There was silence for a few minutes, apart from the scratching of Remus's ballpoint pen, then Harry quietly said, "Thanks, Remus."

"No need to thank me, Harry. Now, what about the rest of your day?"

"Eh. Not nearly as bad as Hogwarts, but there were still a lot of people staring. French was pretty fun, but I fell asleep in History."

"Harry! You didn't actually fall asleep, did you?" Teuchi glanced over the counter and smiled at his favourite customers.

"The teacher is just like Binns, I swear!" Harry raised his hands defensively, grinning widely.

Remus pointed at him with his pen. "I bet you were the only who fell asleep. Tell me I'm wrong, Harry."

Harry shrunk into his seat, and Teuchi hid his laugh. "... Maybe."

"Merlin Harry, we said you wouldn't do this! We agreed you'd pay attention."

"I do pay attention! Just... not in History." Remus glared at him. "Or Maths. And I might have stopped listening in Spanish as well."


"I'm sorry!"

"This behaviour will stop, Harry! If I get any messages telling me that you fall asleep, or that you don't pay attention, then I will confiscate Sting," said the man firmly, ignoring Harry's horror struck expression at the idea of confiscating the sword that Sirius had started to train him with.

"Ok, ok! I won't fall asleep!"

"And paying attention?"

"... I'll do that too." Remus hid a smile at Harry's surrender. The next few minutes passed in silence as Remus continued with his paperwork and Harry pulled out his notebook filled with the doodles that he had made in his boredom. He had drawn his History teacher merged together with a cat, and the result had been spectacular. He had also drawn a few more snitches and now he drew Remus, hard at work with the coffee cup next to him. He had just finished shading the cup when he remembered something. "Hey Remus?"

"...yes?" The werewolf didn't look up from his paperwork, making his voice slightly stifled.

"What's a host club?" Remus spat out the mocha he had just drank, and the brown liquid covered his paperwork. He cursed, and Teuchi popped his head around the doorframe at the sound of the normally mild man swearing. Remus pulled out his wand, quickly vanishing the coffee and dried the paper. "It's just that a lot of girls were whispering about a host club in our school, and about them wanted me join to join, and I wanted to know what it was."

Remus froze, then laughed. "I could have sworn you just said that there was a host club in your school and they wanted you to join."

Harry blinked, then slowly said, "I did say that Remus. Why, is it something bad?"

"It's... well, it's a place where people are entertained." Harry's eyes widened. "Not like that, but I think that happens sometimes. They – the hosts I mean – they talk to the customers and try and keep them happy. Female hosts are called hostesses, but I'm guessing the club at your school is mainly male."

"Oh... I see why you were so surprised now. I'm a bit freaked out myself. How d'you know this?"

"A lot of them get alcohol poisoning, so I treat a few of them. They're all quite lovely, really, and apparently hosting isn't that bad. I'm assuming the host club is your school entertains the ladies."

"Yeah, the hosts are really popular. The girls never shut up about them. I think the chairman's son is a host." A familiar tingle in Harry's stomach jolted him, and he sat upright. "We need to go to a host club," he declared suddenly.

"What?!" Thankfully Remus wasn't drinking anything at that moment, or he'd have spat that out too.

"We need to go to a host club. Or a hostess club, it doesn't matter." Harry quickly stood up and pulled out a few hundred yen. He dropped them onto the empty counter and started to shove Remus's papers into his briefcase.

"I think it does Harry! Why do we need to go all of a–" Remus froze when Harry came close, his face inches away.

"All I know is that my magic is telling me that Luna will kill us if we don't go to a host club now." Remus didn't move for a few second, then stood up with the same speed as Harry.

"Can't argue with that. Merlin, I do not want Luna on my back again..." He packed his things away with a speed to rival a sprinter and they ran out of the cafe, sure that Luna would somehow find out if Harry ignored his magic again. Ayame poked her head around the doorframe at the sound of the bell to see the cafe was suddenly empty and she frowned. They hadn't even said goodbye.

Playing: Dream On – Aerosmith

Haha, it's done! Honestly, I'm a little bit sick of seeing this chapter, I've been writing it for a long time. Believe it or not, I had about 4000 words extra that I cut out. *sighs*

It's a AU from the battle in the Department of Mysteries, which explains why Sirius is still alive, but the rest of Harry's life is very different. The war was international and a lot worse, leaving Harry a war-torn teen. His friends are affected just as much, which is why they seem so OOC. Harry's a bit of a Sasuke right now, but don't worry, he'll get better.

I'm pretty new to Ouran fanfiction, so if I make mistakes, please correct me! I'm about half way through the manga (I'm just met Kasanoda and Tetsuya, who reminds me of Remus) but I have finished the anime, I'm ok with Ouran knowledge.

Japan, though... I'm English, so if you could help me out with Japanese culture and things like that, it'd be great. I'm a horrible procrastinator, so it'll be a while till the next chapter, but stick with me, we'll get there. Motivation would be very helpful!

I've thrown in two very different references in here, I think – what are they?

QUESTION: Easy one to start with – if your wardrobe was burning, what's the one item you would save? By wardrobe, I mean anything you keep in your wardrobe (I mean, I keep a clock and my books in my wardrobe).