Warnings: Pre-Slash, very AU, spoilers for Harry Potter books and Ouran manga, mentioned character death, set three days after Part 2, still not complete, coarse language, way too bloody long
Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and associates, of which I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates, of which I am not one. I do not own the characters or settings in this story (but the situation is made-up by me). Set as an AU of HPatHC (it'll make sense as you read more).
Featuring: LovedButKindaEmo!Harry, SlightlyLessEvil!Kyouya, Hyperactive!Tamaki, Alive!Lily, and others
A Slight Alteration Part 3
"Visiting a Host Club?" Harry was reasonably flabbergasted as he allowed the words to flow from his own mouth. Surely he had misheard! After all, he had no reason to believe that such a thing had been said, even if it was René who he was speaking with.
"Not just a Host Club!" René pouted at Harry as if by saying "a" he had been dealt some great insult. "It's the Host Club! Come on, you went to that Host function last time you visited Japan, right? You'll get to see what we do with our free time!"
"Won't it be kinda weird though? I mean, we aren't students at that school," Hermione's lips were pursed, and Neville looked a bit antsy in his seat. It had been three days since they had met the entire Host Club, both active members and alumni, and René just so happened to not have classes on Fridays so he came to "entertain" the foreigners for the day. This involved taking them sight-seeing around Tokyo and blathering about "commoner" things.
As the only "commoner" in the group, Harry knew Hermione was probably pretty pissed at Tamaki's vocabulary, but she had yet to say anything on the matter. It was likely her good manners shining through.
Either way, now it was three o'clock – half an hour before the Ouran High School Host Club was set to open for the day, and Tamaki was committed to being present for the last club event before they started preparing for the school's Festival.
As a matter of fact, all the other alumni were going to be present at some point throughout the hours of club, which was the real reason Harry didn't want to go. René probably knew this, considering Hermione and Neville had told him and Kyouya about Charlie's death (for no one would call Tamaki stupid after seeing what lay beneath his eccentric exterior), and yet he seemed intent upon putting Harry into an awkward situation.
Were the young wizard unaware of his magical friends telling his muggle friends the bare bones of what happened to Charlie, Harry might be totally oblivious to René's attempts at matchmaking.
"Alright."
As it was, Harry would tolerate it for the sheer fact that he knew René was doing this because he cared. Some of it might be pride in the club that he had been building up for years, and part of it was certainly that René wanted "his son" to give in to attraction, but Harry knew that it was mostly because René wasn't half as stupid as some people might think and had noticed the shell Harry built around himself.
"That's great!" René almost jumped out of his seat, his seat belt being the only thing stopping this. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Harry and made a sound that could only be classified as a squeal. "Driver, to Ouran, High School Section! We're going to do a cosplay today of characters from a manga! I had Kyouya order costumes to fit you three as well!"
"No way," Neville was already shaking his head vehemently. "I am not going to wear any costume for your... club-thing. Harry showed me some of those photographs you sent him, and I wouldn't be caught dead in that stuff." He shuddered, and Harry knew exactly which costumes he meant; the horridly frilly ones that looked like they came straight out of Nearly Headless Nick's wardrobe. Those really hadn't been flattering.
Hermione's lips were still pursed, though they had relaxed slightly when Harry had spoken. "I can't imagine you had our measurements in time for it anyway, so I somehow doubt any costumes Kyouya ordered would fit us, René," she stated reasonably. "And a costume for me would be strange at the very least since I'm female."
"Not really," René was smiling widely, a strange light in his eye. "Haruhi has worn costumes for the club a few times; dressing as a princess for a knight theme or a goddess for a greek god theme, for example. She's dressing up today too."
"You still won't have had our measurements," even as Hermione said this, she sounded less than sure of herself.
René just smiled.
The expression was so reminiscent of Kyouya that Harry had to shiver a bit in his friend's grasp. That was not the sort of expression that René should hold. Ever.
Not five minutes passed before they were pulling in front of a very large, very impressive looking campus. Harry had never actually been to Ouran High School – he'd been to the University campus a few times since arriving in Tokyo, but not the high school campus – and found he rather liked the atmosphere. It was rich, flashy, and full of too many giggling girls, but he liked it. Which was weird since he hadn't found himself liking much since Charlie –
He shook the thought off, straightened his black tie, and followed behind René. As amusing as it was to watch someone else be mobbed by fangirls, he couldn't help but feel that René enjoyed it a good deal more than he ever had, something that probably shouldn't be true considering the man's girlfriend wasn't among those fawning over him.
"Hello ladies, I'm sorry I'm in a bit of a hurry," René heaved a dramatic sigh as he dealt with the mob. Did these girls have no decorum? It was amusing as hell, but they were supposed to be the crème de la crème or something, weren't they? "Don't forget to visit the Host Club when the doors open at three-thirty! All Hosts, past and present, will be attending today, and we even have some guests to help with today's cosplay. I look forward to seeing each of you later." He gave a sultry smile to the throng, and Harry was pretty sure one of the yellow-clad girls fainted.
Several thumps sounded; okay, more than one.
After that, they had few interruptions in their quest to reach the club room. With not even twenty minutes left until the start of activities, Harry wondered if there was actually time to get into costumes; from what he'd seen, the costumes were always pretty elaborate after all.
Upon arriving in the room, Harry didn't get the chance to ask. Clothes were shoved in his arms – a long white cloak with black inside, white pants with a very wide black belt of some sort, a sword (judging by the weight, it was real), and a sort of half-helmet with horns that would only cover the left side of his head – and then he was tossed behind a curtain. It didn't take long to get dressed, though he took care to button the coat; he wasn't sure if it was supposed to be buttoned, but he still had a healing wound on his side from a curse he'd taken when attacking Malfoy Manor. A glamour was added for good measure.
"Fits perfectly," Kyouya noted as Harry exited the curtained area, pushing up glasses that were more rectangular than his usual oval frames.
For a moment Harry blinked at the image the older boy made; had he straightened his hair? He was also wearing a white coat – in fact, everything he wore was a blinding shade of white – but it was slit up the sides rather than the front and didn't quite reach the knees of his trousers in front while the back reached his feet. A sort of mini-cloak (Harry could think of no better phrase) covered his shoulders, and Harry could only assume that the large black bow a meter away was meant to be his weapon.
"Yes, though I'm not sure I want to know how," Harry pursed his lips in much the same manner that Hermione had been earlier.
"I got the measurements for you three from the tailor," Kyouya didn't bother to specify which tailor. Harry, Hermione, and Neville ended up going to the same tailor for their clothes that the Ootori family always went to; obviously, customer confidentiality did not extend to telling another customer how big around someone's waist was.
A tiny smile flicked onto Harry's face, but died quickly. It was kinda funny, especially –
"I am not going out like this!" Harry jumped at Hermione's angered screech. "It's skanky! Whoever had this idea is going to burn in hell and I'll personally be the torturer!"
Harry flinched slightly at the mention of torture but opted to sit back and wait to see what happened. It had to be really bad for Hermione to get so mad; after dating Ron Weasley back in fifth year, she had loosened up a lot, so it wasn't like she was just freaking out over showing a bit of stomach or cleavage or something.
"It's... not so bad," Haruhi's voice came out of Hermione's dressing room; apparently the girls were sharing or had needed help getting into the costumes or something. "Though I think I might help you with the 'torturing' thing. That is rather cruel."
"'Rather cruel'?" Hermione's scowl was audible, and Harry wondered if her threat was as idle as it would normally be taken. "Never mind. I'm getting out of these... 'garments' and to hell with this cosplay!"
Maybe it was a coincidence, but at that exact moment, the Hitachiin twins – both dressed in black kimono and hakama, with geta on their feet, swords (Kaoru's was easily as tall as he was), and their hair spiked (with Hikaru's dyed black, or else a wig) – ran by laughing, causing a small wind in their wake that made the curtain covering Hermione and Haruhi's changing room open for viewing for about three seconds.
In the first second, Harry saw Hermione's "costume" and realized precisely why she was unhappy with it. To be fair, Harry had definitely seen more of her flesh when they went swimming since bikinis didn't exactly hide much, but the green ripped-looking top stopped only just under her breasts, and the skirt barely covered anything. Compared to everyone else, who were all very much covered, her clothes were downright scandalous. The cracked skull mask on her head and green wig were made rather inconsequential.
In the second second, Harry heard a strange gagging sound from his companion.
In the third second, Harry turned away from Hermione, who was red-faced and wide-eyed to see Kyouya in much the same state as Hermione, though obviously for another reason. The ex Shadow King of the Ouran High School Host Club walked away swiftly, but Harry knew he'd seen a dribble of blood coming from between his friend's fingers before he had turned around.
The idea of Ootori Kyouya losing control at the sight of female flesh was... entertaining. Harry felt his lips twitching again, and didn't try to force it down; he'd read somewhere that giving in to emotion physically made the emotions more acutely felt. Crying increased feelings of sadness, smiling increased happiness, and running increased fear to the point of panic. Sure, being at all happy or amused so soon after Charlie made him feel guilty, but he also knew that Charlie would want him to be happy and not mope for the rest of his life.
Harry would give himself another few weeks or months though, however long it took.
"Harry! It's your turn for make-up!" René's voice came from the other side of the room, near the bathroom, and Harry decided to leave Hermione to her own devices. If she decided not to cosplay, no one had the right to force her.
Three minutes later, Harry found himself impressed by the fact that the hyperactive twins, the current Presidents of the Host Club, were quite good with make-up. It made sense when it was mentioned that they were intending to follow their mother in the fashion industry, but Harry was still impressed. If one looked at him, they would never know he was usually rather tan; his skin was now almost a vampiric white, and his eyes were rimmed in black with perfectly straight lines descending from them.
If Harry hadn't known better, he never would have recognized himself, even with the lightning bolt scar on his brow.
Of course, it was difficult to recognize Tamaki, too. His chin had been painted with stubble and he looked a lot more masculine that usual, even with a flowy black wig. He wore the same black kimono and hakama as the rest of the Hosts (Kyouya, Harry, Neville, and Hermione were the only ones not wearing the traditional garb), but with a white cape over that and a flowery woman's kimono worn open over that. A straw hat was perched atop his head... and Harry thought he looked totally stupid.
When Harry got out of the make-up chair, he turned around and burst out laughing. He could he not? Morinozuka Takashi was wearing much the same costume as everyone else, though the kimono was worn open to expose his chest, and a katana was sheathed at his side. But that wasn't the funny bit at all; he'd been given extensions which were gelled to tick out in a huge halo of spikes that looked utterly ridiculous in conjunction with an eye-patch, a white cape over his shoulders, and Haninozuka Mitsukuni clinging to him.
Mitsukuni seemed quite pleased with the whole thing. He wore a pink wig and carried around his stuffed bunny, though it was wearing a costume too, of a stuffed lion. Everything else was the standard of the "shinigami" uniform.
When Harry came up for air, everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head out of his rear end and declared himself pregnant with the spawn of a zucchini.
Quite suddenly the young wizard found himself enveloped in Hermione's arms – now clad in a white uniform more similar to Harry's than the ragged ones from before, though her hair was still green and the mask on her head was the same – and though his mirth had abated, Hermione's had only just been sparked.
"You laughed!" Hermione practically cackled this. "Neville! He laughed! And it was a real one!"
Harry attempted to extricate himself from his friend's breasts. "If you don't let me go I'll never laugh again and I'll burn your copy of Hogwarts, a History while you're tied to a chair," Harry said this deadpan. Actually, he was a bit queasy from being shaken so quickly and suddenly as Hermione was, so adding "and I'll barf on your shoes" might have made a better threat. Either way, he was released quickly, as though his words had scalded Hermione, and he took a few dizzy, staggered steps away.
"With our luck you'll follow through on the first anyway," Neville pouted as he moved forward. Blue hairspray had been applied, and his hair was swept up in a messy sort of hairdo. He wore a white coat similar to Harry's open with his chest bared and, just like everyone else, had a sword at his hip. What looked like a jawbone was attached to the right side of his face, which was... weird.
Harry just shrugged, gave his best fake smile, and watched his friend's shoulders droop. That hadn't been his intention, but there was little Harry could do to take it back now. He couldn't help but wonder, if physical action enhanced emotion, could it turn his fake smile into a real one?
"Three minutes until I unlock the doors," Kyouya called, as if the moment of Harry laughing and being stared at had never happened. "Hikaru, Kaoru, Hermione-san is the last one in need of make-up. Get her done quickly. Everyone, positions. It's expected that most of the girls in the school will be attending today, as well as some alumni, so be ready. Mitsukuni-senpai (2), your cakes are in the kitchen as always. Harry, Hermione-san, Neville-san, you're free to do as you please during club hours but please be courteous." Harry was certain he heard "if you can" muttered toward the end, but didn't comment on it.
Since when did Kyouya voice those little thoughts anyway, muttered or no?
It was amazing, Harry later decided, what the Host Club could do. They were all spoiled rich kids like him, sure, but they were spoiled rich muggle kids, and he was sure that even wizards would have trouble with the costumes, make-up, and decor (admittedly, Hermione had transfigured her green costume into something Haruhi had shown her in the manga they were cosplaying).
Wizards also wouldn't be able to simultaneously woo crowds of five or more girls at a time with only a few carefully placed words. Harry might be able to, but he was famous.
He ended up spending a lot of time with the younger Host-teams, particularly the youngest pair of Hideki and Hiroshi. Not because he found them particularly interesting or anything, but because their table was the one furthest from Takashi and Mitsukuni. That was a very important factor to decision making at the moment, since Harry wanted to keep as far away from Takashi as possible; while some might think this was due to embarrassment over bursting out laughing at the college student's costume, Harry knew there were four people who knew the truth, or a version of it.
If he were to let down his newly-built shields around a certain Tall, Dark, and Handsome, he would be thoroughly infatuated instead of just "interested". If he became infatuated, he wouldn't be able to hide it. Either Takashi would deny him - which would be a blow - or he would accept and end up dead.
Some might say that Harry was over thinking things. How could he know he would become infatuated? How could he know he wouldn't be able to hide it? Simply put, the exact same emotions that he felt bubbling under the surface now had been aroused by Cedric and Charlie, and that was simply how things had gone down with both of them.
Even if pursuing someone wouldn't lead to their death, the idea of doing so so soon after Charlie's death left a foul taste in Harry's mouth.
So Harry kept as far away from Takashi as possible throughout the day, making small talk with the girls who were visiting and hanging out with Hermione and Neville whenever possible. In a vague sense, he knew he had a good time, but he couldn't for the life of him manage to make his smile reach his eyes.
"It was so busy!" Hikaru groaned as he flopped back onto a couch after all the guests had left. "It was... it was... ugh."
"Worse than the event for unveiling the new hosts and trainees," Kaoru agreed as he flopped down beside his brother. He reached over and took the black wig from his brother's head. "At least we weren't in charge today."
"Agreed; thank you for being here, Tono!" Hikaru bellowed. Harry felt a tiny smile twitch to life, not a fake this time, at the twins. When he had met them a year and a half ago they had been a lot more... cohesive, but it seemed that they had some individuality now. René's shout from the changing room was muffled - as it was a hot day, even with air-conditioning, his three layers were a bit much - but carried a sentiment of "you're welcome" or something like that.
"Never again will I go for the 'most popular' voted character," Hiroshi shuddered as he tok a seat as well. His reservations had doubled when his costume was seen, and even though his brother wasn't cosplaying a popular character, the younger could only nod in agreement. "We were servicing twenty girls at once for a while. Twenty! It's not humanly possible to keep them all happy at once."
"Twent-two," Hideki corrected, running a hand through his spiky black hair.
"Right, twenty-two," Hiroshi wrinkled his nose. "That's even worse. And my hair's all sweaty from the wig." With that last complain, he collapsed against his younger brother's side and declared he was going to take a nap and if anyone interrupted him he was going to hire a hitman. The younger - and larger - of the two brothers rolled his eyes, thinking no one could see him, and shoved his brother off to lie down on the couch instead of him.
"Amused, Harry?" René appeared, back in his suit from earlier in the day with a towel around his neck.
"Vaguely," Harry replied instantly. He really was amused, but he wasn't exactly about to start laughing, either. "I can see why you like doing this, though I'd never be able to. My fangirls - and boys - back home would mob me."
"Like the 'Vaine' girl?" Harry had mentioned to his friends about the girl in the year below him who kept sending him candies and trying to push her boobs in his face, as if double-Ds and truffles would make him fall in love with her. He did not, of course, mention that the candies were laced with love potions or that her boobs had attention-drawing charms on them, but that wasn't entirely necessary to get the point.
"Worse."
"Ah," René wrinkled his nose. He'd been particularly vocal about the sexual harrassment that Harry was often submitted to, being famous as he was, and had told Harry in no uncertain terms that he should get a restraining order or a body guard or something. "By the way, I was certain that Hermione's costume was green. Kyouya said it was the green one anyway... where did she get the white costume?"
"Magic," Harry deadpanned. He'd found this a very good tactic for not telling his friends about magic; do tell them, but say it sarcastically so they think he's making fun of them when he really isn't. It had been working for years, over phones, webcam conversations, and face to face encounters alike.
And René was still amused by Harry's occasional comment of "magic", so he didn't press. Kyouya often did try to get Harry to fess up, but it never worked.
A sudden "BANG", like a gun going off or a car backfiring made Harry jump in his seat, and he wasn't the only one. There was no way that it could be, but Harry had resigned himself, as he spun quickly to the source of the noise, to the idea that it was caused by someone apparating into the room. It could not, he decided, be a disapparation since he highly doubted any of his friends were likely to be dumb enough to disapparate right in the middle of a group of muggles, or so loudly.
He was not disappointed - greatly distraught, but not disappointed - by the sight that greeted him. Harry hadn't killed any Death Eaters in his raid on Malfoy Manor, just Voldemort himself, and most of them had evaded capture thus far, including a certain crazy woman with dark curls and deep set eyes who was standing in the middle of the room, grinning like the madwoman she was, with her wand pointed directly at Harry's heart.
"Fuck," Harry swore to the heavens. He slipped his wand out of its wrist holster - which, for convenience's sake, had previously been disguised as a watch and had an expansion charm to fit the 11 inch wand in the half-inch space - and brought it up to meet Bellatrix's, but she didn't seem like she was going to move immediately. Her eyes roved the assembled muggles with a mix between lust and disgust at the attractive men, and her mouth curved from the grin to a wicked smile, the kind that only the most dangerous of deranged people had which - guess what? - she just so happened to be.
"Looks like ickle baby Potter found himself some boy toys," Bellatrix purred in English. "Too bad he couldn't find anything better than muggle filth. But I think..." Her wand arm suddenly snapped away from Harry and toward Hermione, who had been inching forward. "Crucio!"
Rather than waste time with trying to help Hermione immediately (oh god screams... it was like Charlie all over again) he whipped his wand for a silent Reducto that Bellatrix dodged with ease. While the far wall exploded, Hermione's screams were cut off and she was gathered up quickly by Kyouya, who seemed to be running on automatic.
"She doesn't scream as well as the blood trai- Protego!" Bellatrix paused her attempt at Voldemort-style monologue to protect herself from Harry's cutting curse. "Now now, Potter, didn't that mudblood mother of yours teach you any manners? Or did I maybe hit a sore spot? Did you love the blood traitor? Did you want to marry him?" Harry tried to reign in his temper; if he wasn't reasoning, then he would be on her level, and she had years of dueling of experience and great spell knowledge to hang over his head. "Too bad you were too late to -"
Harry didn't give her a chance to finish. He couldn't give her a chance. Damn it! Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it! This became Harry's mantra as he sent whatever spells he could think of at the dark witch. Just when he might have been starting to heal a little bit this fucking bitch -
"You'll have to do better than that, Potter! You and Longass haven't got a chance," Bellatrix cackled. By this time, Neville had joined in with Harry, acting more as a shield to stop any spells from hitting the muggles behind them, but Bellatrix was still having no troubles with them.
If Harry had been thinking of anything other than this bitch and how he had seen her torturing Charlie and how she had just tortured Hermione, he never would have done it. But, then, he saw the opening and took it. After all, basic shield charms used in duelling couldn't block physical assault, now could it?
So he tackled her to the ground. "You fucking bitch!" Harry heard himself yell this and felt the words leave his mouth, but he didn't really think about it. He just attacked her, and got thrown off with a simple Bombarda for the effort. He must have flown a good ten feet into the air, and he landed in the couch cluster nearest where Kyouya was restraining Hermione. The couch he landed on broke for the effort, and he was pretty sure his wand arm did too if the pain and loud crack were an indication.
He staggered to his feet, keeping his arm close even though he knew that left-handed casting would be awful. He still brought up his weaker arm and tried to continue the fight. His eyes were blurry with tears and dust from the debris. A cutting curse came his way, at decapitation level, and Harry wasn't going to be fast enough with his shield charm to catch it so he raised his arm in the way instead.
When he felt the curse slice all the way to the bone, though not through it, thankfully, Harry knew that he was done with the fight. He'd fall unconscious in a minute or two, and it would hart too much to stretch the skin for any wand movements.
When he heard the thump of a body hitting marble, he assumed he had collapsed, until he realized that he feet were still firmly planted on the ground, and that he could see not Bellatrix around his arm, but a certain second year university student. Said student stood in what Harry thought was some sort of kendo pose, which his still-sheathed sword held out before him, and Bellatrix collapsed on the ground.
Harry didn't take much longer to collapse. Neville had the same level of healer training as him and could perform first aid before getting him to a hospital, and Hermione could explain what in the name of Merlin's ingrown toenail had just happened, as well as calling the aurors.
Right now, Harry just needed to cry and not think.
Hermione laid back on the bed in the guest room she was occupying in the Ootori Mansion. Exhausting... that was the only way she could describe the day. Getting a tour from René hadn't been too bad, since they were driven everywhere and had a fun time just seeing things. Even visiting the Host Club at Ouran hadn't been too bad, excluding the little incident known as "being seen in the tiny costume". She'd been seen less clad before, but it was still rather awkward. On the bright side, it seemed that only Harry and Kyouya had been looking her way during that.
No, the real issue was Bellatrix attacking them after the Club had ended for the day. Even under the best circumstances that would be a catastrophe, but it was a complete disaster. Was there a worse way to reveal magic to muggles than that? First Hermione was tortured in front of them - the first piece of magic the Hosts had ever seen - and then Harry, Neville, and Bellatrix got into a duel that ended with a lot of destroyed furniture, exploded walls, shattered tiles, Harry with one broken arm, severe bleeding, a scraped radius, and Bellatrix concussed from Takashi hitting her with his costume sword.
The entire time, for the whole two or three minutes it lasted, Hermione had been shaking from the cruciatus exposure. She had never been hit with it before - unlike Harry - and the fact that her nerves were fried from the five seconds of pain signals that came from each and every one had her shaking. Her limbs were jerky, and even though she tried to get up and help her friends, Kyouya was either working on auto pilot or he knew that it was a bad idea.
Either way, being clutched in his arms like a lifeline was... well, disconcerting to be honest. Kyouya hadn't struck her as the tactile sort, and he still didn't.
After Hermione had managed to rip herself out of Kyouya's grip - which might have had something to do with the deceptively strong boy releasing her so he could make sure Harry was okay - she immediately summoned Harry's first aid pack from his things and handed it to Neville. The cell phone that Harry had bought her for the trip was out quickly and she dialed 110 to get the police and asked for aurors. Most of the Hosts still seemed rather shocked from the battle, but René, Kyouya, Takashi, and Haruhi were all clustered around Harry's fallen form as Neville worked on first aid.
Bellatrix was quickly bound in ropes, her wand taken captive, and then stunned for good measure. It wasn't until Hermione was casting Reparo on whatever could be fixed that any attention was drawn to her. It was probably due to dust particles reassembling into a chunk of floor, or maybe that the couch Harry crashed into was no longer shattered.
So, when Neville apparated to the nearest magical hospital with Harry in tow, Hermione found herself alone with twelve very confused people who very much wanted answers.
Still shaking, Hermione sat on the just-reformed couch and explained magic. She didn't hold back much, explaining every common branch of magic, some basics of magical history - including Harry's part in it, because if she didn't and they found out (which they would, there was no doubt) then the fallout would be worse - and what had just happened. Her audience was receptive, despite the rude introduction.
"It certainly explains a lot," Kyouya had mused aloud. "Like Harry's cooking and you getting a book from my room."
Hermione, of course, had been a bit confused. "Harry cooks the muggle way, no magic involved," she explained quickly, "and I honestly have no idea what you mean about getting a book from your room. I haven't even been in the wing where your family all have your rooms, except to go to the living room. Anyway, until today, none of us have used magic while we were in Japan. It's supposed to be a muggle vacation."
Now, at almost midnight, Hermione was lying on her bed, exhausted and worried. Harry was "completely" healed, but his mental progress had completely gone back to the beginning. He was closed off and smiling smiles that barely even reached his mouth, let alone his eyes. When he and Neville had returned with Harry's arm in a sling for all of ten minutes while the bones finished setting and sewing, they had brought a potion to relieve her of Cruciatus stress too, which should have made her not care about anything, really, but she was still worried.
The fact that, when the aurors had called about an hour ago, it had been divulged that Bellatrix had been tracking their wands and had latched onto the first spell cast - Hermione transfiguring the green "garments" into the white uniform - made Hermione feel all the worse. After all, more Death Eaters could be doing the same thing, couldn't they?
She tried to close out the voices she heard through the walls, but she wasn't going to use her wand to do so, so it was impossible.
It had been "decided" that the Hosts were sleeping over at Kyouya's for the night so they could badger Neville and Hermione for additional information on magic, keep an eye on Harry, and pillage the small stock of magical objects each of the three magical people had to see what they did. Hermione had sacrificed a history text that she had found last week and some candies, Neville lost his Wheezes that he brought along, and Harry set out a photo album, the Hungarian Horntail statuette that he received in the Triwizard Tournament, and a set of Ginori (3) nose-biting tea cups. The Hosts were all congregated in René's room (by this point, it was apparently actually called "Tamaki's Room" by the entire Ootori family) which was right next to the room Hermione was staying in.
Either way, the walls weren't thick enough to block out the sounds of ten excited teenagers - all of the Hosts excepting Kyouya - as they fawned over the enchanted objects. She heard every surprised noise of appreciation that was eschewed over the moving photographs, the guffaws spawned by the usage of some Wheezes (and the indignant squawks of the victims), and every "gack!" caused by someone being bitten by their teacup or the tiny dragon.
Of course, Hermione didn't hear so much as a grunt from Takashi, though she knew he was there and awake since Mitsukuni often addressed him with questions that either went unanswered or were replied to with a glance. Hermione knew for a fact that the oldest of the Hosts was reading the history text she had laid out; the glint in his eye from when she had handed it over for perusal made it obvious that he was very interested. Maybe he liked to read like she did, or maybe he was a history nut, but it was obvious that he only had eyes for that book.
"Takashi -" Speak of the devil, Hermione thought as Mitsukuni's voice pierced the wall. "- what are you reading about?"
"Magical secrecy," the answer was succinct. Of course, the other Hosts were curious and asked what that was. There was a moment's pause, and then Mitsukuni started to speak; presumably, Takashi had handed over the book and indicated the section. He wasn't the talkative type.
"Ever since the inception of the Statute of Secrecy," Mitsukuni began, his voice suddenly losing the childish lilt as he read aloud from the text, "magical people have tried to find reliable ways to prevent muggles from finding out about the magical world. Many magical things are hidden right under the muggles' noses; businesses operate in both worlds, families live in muggle towns, and every major city has its own magical district in which wizards and witches may do their shopping in an environment that better caters to their needs. Discrepencies need to be hidden from the ever-observant muggles who, while they may pass off certain events as 'tricks of the eye,' aren't about to dismiss seeing a chair turn into a pig.
"This problem was solved in 1723 by an American wizard living in a puritan town who was to be killed for practicing witchcraft. He had three days in a cell to find out a way to save himself - this, of course, was before the invention of Apparation in 1769 - and came up with a spell that is currently the cornerstone of magical secrecy. The Memory Charm.
"Its uses throughout the past few centuries are innumerable, including the editing of memories of thousands of muggles after the attack on Pearl Harbor by various magical creatures, and the complete wiping of memories from..." Mitsukuni stopped. "Wiping memories? They have a charm to make you forget things?"
In her head, Hermione was already reciting the rest of the chapter. About how it had been recently discovered that the Memory Charm actually damaged neural pathways in muggles - who, unlike wizards, did not have magic to subconsciously fix their brains - to the point where it could cause a disease known as Alzheimer's. It talked about various points in history where the charm was used, times when it was improved upon. The point of that chapter was to talk about a Dark Lord from the early 1900s who used the charm on muggles in Eastern Europe to create his own personal army, which was what started the first World War.
"But that's awful!" This was Takashi's younger brother, Satoshi. "I mean, forcing someone to forget? That's..." He trailed off, though Hermione couldn't say why.
"It can be necessary," Takashi's voice rumbled through the walls. An indication from his older brother would have made Satoshi stop talking. "If someone didn't take well to finding out about magic, " he had obviously already read the chapter about muggle-wizard relations, "or if they experienced a traumatic event, wouldn't forgetting be better?"
The other side of the wall was silent, and Hermione slowly eased off her bed, ready to avert and misconceptions. Harry was having some late-night tea with Kyouya, and Neville's room was two doors down so he wasn't about to hear the teens and come explain. She opened the door and went out into the hall. Just as her hand poised to knock on the door, talking resumed. It irked her slightly to note that there was better sound-proofing in the halls than her room. Had Kyouya done this to torture her?
"If they have spells that are used for wiping memories, and they could use it on trauma victims... why wasn't it used on Harry after his ordeal?" René asked the room. "He's been scarred for life by it, but-"
"No." Hermione forwent knocked altogether and simply opened the door, not wanting the Hosts to get it into their heads that such a thing might actually be okay. "René, that is not how the charm is to be used, under any circumstances. Some traumas are better to forget - like rape or something along those lines - but it wouldn't be good at all for Harry's situation." She glared down the half-Frenchman before he could protest. "Imagine if Haruhi died, and you saw her die. But your memory was erased and all you know is that she died and you don't know how or why or who did it, you just know that she is dead. Which would you prefer, to remember or not?"
"I wouldn't want to forget anything about Haruhi!" René barked out, as if the mere idea was too horrid to contemplate. Which, really, it was. The Hosts hadn't lived through years of terror and war like the wizarding world had, and while Hermione had never been in the thick of it, she knew what happened in war.
"And Harry wouldn't want to forget anything about Charlie," Hermione finished. "He will heal with time; it hasn't even been a month since Charlie died, and Harry's doing magnificently well, all things considered. He's trying to heal, and - and hell, he laughed today! He laughed and he meant it. We can't force him to heal, anymore than anyone could force you to heal if Haruhi died." The witch stepped off of her imaginary soapbox and sighed. "It'll happen, but that was an important chapter in Harry's life. If he forgot, his whole personality would change and he wouldn't understand a lot of things. He'd get angry at us - he's already mad at me, I think, for coming along with him on this trip - and it's better to let him think things through."
The assembled Hosts - or some of them anyway - shuffled anxiously in their seats.
Then Hermione realized that she was in a room full of boys - not weird given her best friends were male - who were all wearing pajamas, most of them without tops. That was a bit weird for her since the only male chests she'd ever seen were of previous boy friends or at a pool... and none were as attractive as the Hosts. A slight blush rose to Hermione's cheeks as she realized this, but only slight.
"I'm... going to go back to my room now," Hermione said after a moment of silence. "See you all in the morning. Any new questions can be answered then. Night!" She exited the room quickly and hid in her assigned room.
That was... embarrassing. A little. But at least she got her message across.
"Taka-nii," Satoshi's voice sounded through the wall, "does that mean you're going to give up on Harry-kun?"
"Uun," Takashi grunted in the negative, and Hermione sighed.
Apparently her message didn't get across as she thought, or perhaps Morinozuka Takashi was simply a persistent person. The fact that he was apparently interested in Harry was only a minor surprise - Harry certainly drew attention, and somehow the second year university student didn't strike her as the type of guy who would date a girl (not that he seemed homosexual, just that he didn't seem interested in women) - but she was vaguely annoyed. Charlie hadn't been dead for a month, and it was like people expected Harry to be over his most serious boyfriend to date. While Hermione was ecstatic at any hint that he was recovering... that was different.
Well, if Takashi did anything to draw the young wizard's ire, he'd probably deserve it.
(To be continued...)
Author's Note: I wonder if anyone has figured out my plot yet? This isn't just a hurt/comfort and romance fic. There's actual plot to it! Which, if one reads Part 2 carefully, they can probably figure out. But I already said all this last chapter...
Mk, so I made my "occasion" for this chapter "HPatHC reaching 200,000 reads". It was at 199k when I posted Part 2, so it was at 200k within two days. I started writing this... not long afterwards (I have been kinda busy and I will be kinda busy, but for me "kinda busy" means I still have gobs more free time than most people). The occasion for Part 4... not sure yet, but it'll probably be September 1. I'm still intent on posting Part 5 (which SHOULD be the finale) on September 19. However, there might be one more interruption – probably before Part 4, if at all – to post the sequel to Savior and First Crush (which should just be cute and fluffy).
... In my opinion, there's something weird going on when a collection of one-shots achieves 100 reviews. Not that I don't love it – because I really and honestly do – but when I noticed I choked on my drink -^_^-
(1) The costumes have a Bleach theme. Why? Because I finally read Bleach and I felt like it. So nyaa. Anyway, Harry's costume is Ulquiorra (the following is the list of everyone else's costumes, in order of appearance, though some are not mentioned. Not that this will make sense to anyone who doesn't know Bleach): Kyouya as Uryuu, Hikaru as Kaien, Kaoru as Ichigo (because they look so much alike), Hermione as Nel (adult form), Tamaki as Shunsui, Haruhi as Rukia, Takashi as Kenpachi, Hani as Yachiru, Usa-chan as Kon, Neville as Grimmjow, Hiroshi as Hitsugaya (voted most popular in recent polls), Hideki as Shuhei, Yasuchika as Kira, Satoshi as Kensei, and Ryuu as Ayasegawa. So Hosts are all Shinigami or at least good guys, and the Brits are Espada.
(2) It was mentioned in the previous chapter that Hani has requested to go by his given name – or at least a form of it – now that he's in college. Other names that might be used include Mitsu-kun and Kuni-kun/chan, but I might not use them. Who knows?
(3) I think this is a brand of very expensive tea cups that are mentioned in the manga... but it's cold (yay!) so I don't wanna check.