Lacrimosa


Takashi had, of course, heard that they would be receiving a new student into their class, the school was rife with rumours already. He had heard that the boy was a transfer from a private boarding school in Scotland for the Gifted and even a delinquent and had been expelled for killing someone – he hadn't believed that one otherwise he would not have been allowed to attend Ouran.

The person he was faced with as the door to the classroom slid open could have probably fit both requirements of Gifted and Murderer; ergo, he was not surprised that the rumours existed in the first place.

He was striking to say the least.

He was no Bishounen, his features were just a few shades too sharp for that, his bone structure a little too vulpine and predatory, attractive, yes, he was, but definitely not in a classical sense. Long unruly ink black hair scraped back and gathered in a spiky ponytail at the nape of his neck, a fringe too short to be pulled back framed his face in flyaway strands and obscured the greenest pair of eyes Takashi had ever seen on another human being. Along with what had to be a rather unfriendly glower. His uniform was rather... unorthodox but it seemed comfortable enough for the young man in question, Takashi found his eyes lingering on the leather jacket though – that thing looked as though it had been through a war, it was creased and scarred and so well worn it looked as soft and pliable as fabric.

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before stepping in and sliding the door shut behind him, ignoring the sudden silence in the classroom and the way everyone was staring at him in open mouthed shock and/or horror. Takashi found his eyebrow climbing toward his hairline at the complete lack of surprise or concern on the other teenager's face, apparently this was a common reaction to him if his expression was anything to go by.

There was one unclaimed desk next to the window, Seat 18, not many people wanted to sit there as it was beside Nekozawa Umihito, President of the Ouran Black Magic Club(1).

The figure in the heavy black cloak didn't even earn a glance as the foreigner pulled his jacket off, draped it on the back of his seat and sat down, pulling a plain black canvas pencil case out and an A4 notebook before dropping his bag under his desk and looking out of the window. Avoiding everyone's gaze.


He was going to throttle Meg for getting him into this.

He could have said no, yes, but just try saying no to that woman and you weren't getting away with it, she was worse than Hermione in that respect.

The teacher had asked him to stand up and introduce himself to the class.

He believed he was on the verge of, what was it that Charlie said... 'Smacking a Bitch'?

With a mutinous expression, he got to his feet, "Potter Harry, nice to meet you I guess. I'm from England, went to school in Scotland. My Japanese is still a bit iffy so bear with me, please," he moved to sit down only for the teacher to gesture at him to add some more, gritting his teeth he rummaged around for something else to add, "I live with my bestfriend just outside of Tokyo, I like music and I have a minor qualification in Animal Handling," Care of Magical Creatures was close enough but it gave him a bit of leeway to possibly have Amber show up with letters if need be. He firmly sat down before the teacher could get anything more out of him. He was here to be bored and maybe learn something, not puke out his life story to a bunch of strangers in Engrished Japanese.


The first day passed quietly enough, Harry managed to avoid most of his classmates and scare off the others before they could ask any truly stupid questions. He ignored any and all rumours flying around about him – really, they were surprisingly a lot nicer than the ones that followed him at Hogwarts.

He did see some kind of disturbance in one of the gardens as he passed by on his way home, it looked like a tea-party of some such and he could see Morinozuka-san and Haninozuka-san taking part dressed in rather expensive traditional clothing. A proper Tea Ceremony? Unusual. Hermione would have loved to watch or better yet, take part. Maybe when she popped over to visit he would ask his classmates if they would indulge her – while he hid away, far away to avoid getting dragged in himself. Hermione would do that, she said he needed more culture, Harry could swear she was in co-operation with Meg who said he needed socialising. Bah. At least Ron and Neville had yet to betray him.

There was a note stuck to the fridge when he got back, apparently one of Meg's colleagues begged off sick that evening and she ended up getting roped into attending another Charity event. She wouldn't be back until early morning, there were some fresh groceries in the fridge and the washing up was all done, it looked like Harry would be on his own that evening.

No worries.

He had stopped by one of the Libraries in Ouran to swipe some sheet music from a book; he could practice them while she was out.


School was school, no matter what country you were in.

Harry was fast finding that he couldn't stand school anymore.

He may have loved Hogwarts, he may have loved school before Hogwarts – it was an escape from Vernon and Petunia – but his school years in the Wizarding world were hardly normal, the last two in particular where he found himself actually teaching half the Defence Course in his spare time. It was why he was currently considered on par with a MASTERS degree even though he hadn't even taken his NEWTs. (Speaking of he should probably look into that.)

Ouran was just so... rigid, he found himself physically wrestling with himself as the teacher spoke to him, how his voice was condescending and he spoke slowly as if to an idiot child. His feelings were written clear as day on his face, he didn't think Harry had any right to be in the same building as Japan's elite, whether or not it was because he looked a ragamuffin in comparison or he was foreign Harry had yet to figure out. But either way, the Teacher was testing the limits of his patience.

It had been a week so at least the students had caught onto the fact he would rather be left alone and the rumour-mill had already turned to something else – like a pervert attempting to molest a boy who was having a private examination in a separate room due to personal reasons.

Harry's Physical Examination had been done by a cheerful Medi-witch Ouran had requested specifically, she had been very thorough with him, checking his magic, his physical form and his Lycan form. Aside from a little bit of Magical stress due to his Full Moon transformations, his magic was fine, the scar on his back was completely healed and his allergies were tested again just to make sure, perfume was added to the list. His hearing and eyesight were checked along with, to Harry's great surprise, his sense of smell and his reflexes. His sense of smell had been heightened from his Turning, not by much but more finely tuned, he could identify the different scents that a person made and the one that they themselves excluded. His reflexes were absurdly high according to the Nurse but she shrugged and smiled, it was a good thing though and she admitted that she wasn't surprised, people who grew up in War Zones did tended to have very hair-trigger responses. Their nerves fired faster than other people's even when their hearts remained steady, apparently it was something to do with an increased dose of Nor-Adrenaline in their bodies – apparently cats had a lot of it.

A Full Moon was approaching and Harry could feel the ache beginning to settle into his bones as he made his way to World History class, his reflexes had been dulled by the onset and the discomfort, hence why he had jolted and sworn so violently that a few near-by girls turned pink at the vulgarities.

Someone had dropped a bucket of poster paint over him.

Wiping his face, green eyes sharpened as he looked around for the culprits and spotted a pair of twins, one with flamingo pink hair and the other with baby blue hair in the same style, one holding a bucket and a look of horror on his face while the other one looked equally alarmed. They jolted the moment Harry took a step toward them, legging it as fast as they could to the cafeteria, and sorely tempting though it was to give chase and tackle the two of them in full public view and slather them with the orange paint they'd just splattered over him, it was just too... pathetic.

Harry Potter had just been Pranked.

Inadvertently, yes, but they had unleashed the Beast now.

The child of the Marauders had been evoked and a simple paint smearing just simply would not do.

Students would later warn the twins of the sinister smirk and dark chuckle the orange transfer student gave as he turned around and escaped into the boy's bathroom. Only to step out ten minutes later completely spotless – if slightly smelling of the stuff.

A short phonecall to the Weasley Twins and everything was soon to be ready.


Fred flipped his mobile shut leaning back against his chair and rubbed at his chin, the bristles scratching against his fingers.

"It seems as though some little Kits have Pranked Lobo by accident," he announced to his brother brown eyes observing him seriously. George blinked tilting his head as he hovered over a batch of order forms.

"Oh really? And who would be foolish enough to do that?" he demanded incredulously, everyone knew that Harry was a right terror when he got it into his head to Prank someone. Sure they were damn good pranksters, they learned from the best, from the Marauders. But someone with the blood of a Marauder... now that was a terrifying creature, especially since Harry did not prank people often, meaning that when he did... it was entirely unexpected, extremely publicly humiliating and not to forget utterly fucking hilarious for everyone watching.

Fred smirked as he got to his feet, "Didn't say. Just that there were two of them, boys, a bit younger. Apparently they got him in Cannon's Orange Paint," George laughed.

"Ooh, that's definitely fightin' talk there," he declared. "And what has our most darling and fuzzy beneficiary requested of us?"

Fred marched to the far wall grabbed a sheet of parchment.

"Only our very best services."

"Oh, how... delicious."


Hikaru whimpered peering fretfully around the corner of the hall.

For the past two weeks he and his little brother had been the victims of a series of bizarre and utterly mortifying Pranks. They had no idea who was doing it, just that they were good, damn good and utterly ruthless – the very kind of person they strove to emulate, not become the targets of!

At first it had just been the one random incident, Kaoru walking into the classroom and sitting down on his chair, only to find that he couldn't get back up again because someone had glued him to it. Hikaru had been amused until he went to take a bite of his meal only to find it was practically saturated with pepper! Disgusting! There was an odd powder on his knife and fork that stained his mouth and tongue a dark custard yellow that was so not cool! The dust got on his fingers as well and everything he touched too! His hair now had custard highlights, there was a smear of the stuff on his cheek and his bag and books were a lost cause.

And then there was the time when he had been on his way to PE and suddenly found himself suspended from the ceiling – a paper sign on his back reading something obscene in English, something about Goats and a coat hanger.

And the showers afterward!

HOW IN THE HELL DID A SWAMP APPEAR IN THE SHOWERS!

The two of them were on the verge of tears, Kyouya was going stir-crazy trying to figure out who was terrorising them, Tamaki seemed to alternate between smug approval and horrified concern, Haruhi just shrugged, and oddly enough, Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai were greatly amused by the whole thing. Either meaning that the Seniors were sadists or Hikaru and Kaoru were just unable to see the funny side.

Hard to see much of anything when you were buck-naked and up to your nipples in tepid black swamp grime.

Whoever it was Pranking them, they weren't sure whether or not they were going to have him or her arrested or demand to be taught. Kaoru wanted the former, Hikaru the latter.

They never noticed the third year who stood back and watched the chaos with a very self-satisfied smirk curled on his lips.

Hani and Mori did, and they didn't say a word. After all, it was about time their new classmate made an effort to associate with the other students, even if it did involve giving the twins a well deserved run for their money. Hani wanted to know how he managed to make a swamp in the Boy's shower room but hadn't yet come up with a way to ask.

If he had, Harry would have must smirked and said 'magic'.

It was true enough.


Meg had a boyfriend.

Another guy from the Conservation and she had asked if it would be alright to bring him home for the afternoon, Harry had agreed which meant he needed to find a place to kill a few hours before heading home.

He'd heard a few girls discussing a Music Room so he assumed there would be some instruments in there, maybe he could dig out a harp or if not just some sheet music he could play – he had Hagrid's Low Whistle in the bottom of his bag. Questioning a member of staff lead him to finding out that there were about four music rooms and the orchestra pit in the Grand Hall. He had no intention of show casing his Harp playing – it was probably no where near as good as the professionals that Ouran employed and he didn't want to look an idiot beside them – in the Orchestra Pit so that left the Music rooms.

By the time he reached the East Wing he was torn between irritation and boredom, did no one in this school actually use the Music rooms for that they were designed for?

This should be the last one of them on this side of the Campus.

Why did he suddenly have a very sinking and unpleasant sensation in his gut? Like his life was about to take a turn for the worst? It had to be his imagination. Voldemort was as dead as a doornail and Fenrir, as far as he knew, was currently running across England like someone lit a fuse on his Tampon – not unlikely as it was Luna hunting him down.

He was getting paranoid he decided as he gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

'Rose petals?' he wondered as the rather bright lights in the room momentarily blinded him, oh god how he wished it had remained that way.

"Irashai," the chorus of male voices greeted him.

Harry stared for all of three seconds, taking in the familiar faces of his Classmates and his Victims, dressed in what could only be some very elaborate German Military uniforms – from the Second World War but very conspicuously minus the swastikas.

He stepped back and closed the door.

He did not just see that.

Harry shook his head and marched off down the corridor, right, well, there was always the... uh... the equestrian club and the soccer club and the -

"Harii-chan! Harii-chan! Where're you going?" a sugary sweet voice chirped, latching onto his arm and dragging him backwards.

Harry yelped, probably a little more like his Wolf form than one would have expected, and stumbled slightly as he found himself being tugged and pulled back towards the room that does not exist! He dug his heels in and crouched slightly, pulling against Hani-san's arm stubbornly, staring at his classmate with narrowed eyes as the little blond cake-muncher slowly pulled him closer to the room with the weirdos waiting inside.

"Haninozuka-san, what are you doing?" he finally demanded, leaning back fully with all his weight and strength, somewhat increased now that he was only a few days away from Transformation.

"Takashi! He's not moving!" the blond wailed petulantly, pulling stubbornly on Harry's arm – threatening to dislocate it.

Harry had perhaps four seconds to realise what that meant before he found himself being slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"What the fucking hell!" he swore, slipping back into English out of sheer surprise, "Damnit Morinozuka-san! Put me down!" he snarled, punching his classmate in the shoulder, hard.

Takashi winced slightly as he followed Mitsukuni back into the clubroom, having to use both arms to ensure the thrashing bundle on his shoulder wouldn't be going anywhere, all the while the dark haired male was hissing very unkind words with pure vitriol.

"Put him down Mori-senpai so we can get a good look at him," another voice demanded making Harry actually growl, making Takashi's eyebrow shoot into his hairline as he carefully eased the now seemingly docile male from his now very sore shoulder – he was going to have some nasty bruises when he got home that night.

Harry found his feet and folded his arms mutinously, scowling hot death at the blond man in front of him. So this was Suou-san's son, huh? He looked a little like a Veela but with richer colouring and less glowing. He was also eyeing him like a piece of meat.

"What?" he finally snapped, extremely uncomfortable.

"You're a very interesting guy, Potter-senpai," Tamaki finally said, charming smile on full power, Harry sneered in response. "We've been considering you for a while at the suggestion of your classmates," and here Harry glared at Haninozuka and Marinozuka, the former of which had the gall to smile sweetly at him, "And I must admit, their instincts are very good."

"Already a number of young ladies have expressed an interest in him, designations should not go wanting at any rate," Kyouya stated, his glasses glinting.

"Huh?" Harry grunted, his eyes narrowing.

All of a sudden a pale hand was being outstretched toward him, "We want you to join the Ouran High School Host Club," Tamaki announced beaming at him.

"Haha, no," Harry refused flatly before marching back out the door.

Tamaki blubbered, his eyes welling up, "B-b-but please?" he begged, completely disbelieving of the fact that someone could turn down the opportunity to join the Host Club.

"No," apparently, he had never met someone like Harry Potter before.


Meg was pleased and a little pink faced when he got back from Ouran, he had walked instead of taking the train so it was about eight O'clock when he rocked up on the porch.

A dark eyebrow shot into his hairline, "Someone had fun," he observed lightly as he dropped his bag at the bottom of the stairs and made his way into the kitchen.

Meg giggled, completely unashamed, "Oh someone most certainly did," she purred dreamily before taking a seat at their little dining room table. "So, how was School? Sorry to kick you out an' all but... It was sooo worth it. Did you do much?" she asked, watching as he pulled out a bag of pasta and one of the pans.

"Mmm, wasn't so bad. Crazy people tried to make me join a club where I flirt all day though," he pulled a face. So not his thing, he didn't know how to flirt and the only way he would be able to recognise when people were flirting with him was when they had a post-it note attached to their forehead reading 'I am flirting with you'. That or they could go down the road of one Viktor Krum, face rape him and then tell him quite bluntly that he was going to flirt with him for the next few days in the hopes it would eventually get him to agree to go out on a date. Harry had been a little amused as he pointed out the fact he was going to Japan the next morning, so his planned flirting would have to be lavished on someone else.

Meg blinked at him before smiling brightly, "You should join!" she told him enthusiastically, finally, he might get himself a honey and shag that stress out already!

Harry shot her a look of deep disgust as he poured water into the kettle and set it to boil, "No," he growled flatly as he rummaged through the cupboards looking for the strainer, a bowl and the salt.

Meg's eyebrow shot up, "I still have your underwear hostage," she pointed out, surprised that he would actually take the risk of his grundies getting into the hands of Romilda Vane.

"That threat only works for so long, Meg," he pointed out as he took the boiling kettle off the stand and poured the water into the pan before putting the kettle back. There was no way in hell he was joining the Host Club, they were a bunch of Lunatics who pranced around in fancy dress making high-school girls cream their panties with a few flowery words of praise. Oh god no, he would shoot himself in the head if he had to deal with that kind of pathetic... he really had no more words to describe how abhorrent he found the Host Club and its clientèle. Maybe it was the fact that he had fought and lived side by side with Hermione, Ginny, Meg and Luna, they were hardly the same kind of women one would expect to attend Ouran by any stretch of the imagination. Not to mention the other women he knew from the D.A. and the Order. In flower terms, if they attended Ouran they would be the thorns amidst the roses.

Meg sighed, Harry never quite realised how judgemental he could be, he tried not to be – bless him – he just failed miserably when it came to certain things. It wasn't his fault, his childhood with the Dursleys gave him a thick skin and very little social skills, to him Amazonian women were the norm, the pampered Ladies of Ouran Academy were against everything he knew and his Werewolf nature wasn't helping at all especially with the Full Moon this close. Weres did abhor weakness in potential mates – hence why, in her mind, Remus finally gave into Tonks toward the end of the war. She was an Auror, a powerful fighter in her own right, she was young and the strongest female around, because let's face it, the others were either criminally young or much, much too old for Remus – to the point where they were slightly physically infirm, such as Professor McGonagall or Professor Sinistra.

"There's a webcam hidden in your shower," she declared, a complete bluff but he didn't know that.

The look of startled horror on his face almost made her laugh and give it away though.

"So, you'll join?" she asked, smug and hopeful at the same time.

Harry gave her a dirty glower as he turned the stove off and poured his pasta and the water it was boiled in through the strainer over the sink. "... On a probationary basis..." he conceded. Meg was ecstatic; it was the best she was going to get from him at this point in time!

Harry sulked the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow he was under strict orders to go to the Hosts and inform them of his agreement – of course she would be in the house getting her leg over which was really one of the few reasons why she was so enthusiastic.

Harry hated being in the same house when she was having sex.

Meg was a screamer.


(1) Umehito Nekozawa, yes he's in 3B not 3A but... I needed someone to fill in the blank spaces, let's face it, the number of third years we're introduced to is sorely lacking. So basically, every third year that we know of from the manga is now in the same class as Takashi and Mitsukuni.

And done. XDDD