Harry Potter and The Host Club

Chapter 9

Warnings: Slash, book spoilers, manga spoilers, angst, clichés, brooding, chocolate abuse, reflected-upon child abuse, trauma, crude language, mentioned character death, Ron bashing, Ginny bashing, Dumbles bashing, eventual mild sexual situations, AU for books 5, 6, and 7 of Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and her affiliates. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori and her (it is her, right?) affiliates.

Features: Independent!Brooding!Isolationist!Harry, Clingy!Paternal!Sirius, and the host-bu guys being themselves

Chapter 9

At roughly midday on the second Sunday of August, Harry James Potter could be found at an Ootori Hospital informing a group of high and mighty doctors – who knew far more than him about medicine as fresh graduates from prestigious medical schools – how to do their jobs. Said doctors weren't too happy about it, either.

"Kishimoto-sensei (1)," he sighed in exasperation, "every kilogram counts. This isn't like giving a kid a Tylenol or something. You have to be very exact when doling out pain relievers of this sort. They are absorbed into the body even as they move down the esophagus and they get integrated fully into the system as soon as it hits the stomach. It's fine to even as much as a full cup for the local relievers, but for wide-range you could kill someone if you overdose them even so much as five milliliters! One milliliter per kilo, that's it."

"I know Potter!" The doctor snapped even as he fixed the measurement.

Harry had been there since early in the morning, first seeing how the hospital used the potions and then helping in training some of the younger doctors who didn't have experience in using Potter-Evans products. Medical schools mostly didn't train with the potions because the chance of a doctor working at a hospital that used them was pretty low in Japan, or outside of Europe in general. Ootori only accepted the best doctors of a class into their hospitals, where the doctors were trained from scratch in how to use the potions.

And now that Harry had been called in for a mutual learning experience – his pay was to be lessons on anatomy and such – the new doctors weren't taking kindly to being trained by a sixteen year old kid who was shorter than most of them. The fact that he had already proven himself to have a better bedside manner than a few of them (he'd been in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts so many times that he knew how someone who was hurt wanted to be treated) hadn't improved things, either.

"I'm just impressing the importance on you," Harry shrugged as if the other hadn't snapped at him so harshly. "I could just as easily leave you to the older doctors; most of them seem rather cranky." He paused looking over at the supervisor who Harry suspected was there mostly to see that Harry didn't drive his "students" insane. "Not you, Kokubunji-sensei. I was mostly talking about the guys working with the surgeon who didn't put the antiseptic draught on his gloves until after cutting open his patient." They both wrinkled their noses. That surgeon had been fired less than a minute into the procedure. The report had come in two hours later that he was apparently in the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease, which even wizards couldn't cure, sadly. His co-workers were right bastards about the whole thing, too, especially after they found out about the Alzheimer's.

A ping came from Harry's pocket and he was glad that they weren't in one of the "No Phones Or Die" areas of the hospital, though Kishimoto still glared at him as the phone was slipped from his pocket and he opened it. "Hello?"

"Potter! We're going to a commoner exhibition!" Suou veritably screeched through the line. Harry grimaced and pulled the phone from his ear for a moment before switching to a scowl. When had he gotten this number? Last he recalled, it was only Ootori who had his cell number, not the evil blond who was far too annoying for his own good.