Summary-Harry has always had a talent with mimicking voices. He could make his voice sound like anyone he wanted it to sound like, be it male or female; with just a little practice on his part. Then when he found out he could also shift his features to look like anyone he wanted to as well, Harry knew that he had something that could save him from the hell that was his so-called family; he had something he could finally use to make a name for himself with. Now years later Tsuna, and his new guardians, are going to meet up with the now world-famous hitman and assassin only know as The Mimic.
Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo hitman reborn, nor do I make any money from either one of them.
Harry was once more stuck in his cupboard, curled up in the furthest back part of said cupboard. Doing his best to not cry out loud, from the pain he was currently in. Something he was doing for yet another, most likely sleepless, night. Seeing as this wasn't the first time Harry had been in a situation like this; not by a long shot. And because of that Harry had a good idea just how the rest of his night was going to happen.
Though considering that the cupboard was his room and had such been since he had first been brought to his so-called family, the Dursley. Harry really could say he should have honestly expected something like this to happen in the first place. Seeing as it happened almost regularly and hadn't happened lately; or as lately as it usually did for him anyway. So, it was bound to happen sooner than later either way.
Usually Harry was put in his 'room' most of the time, more often then not whenever he wasn't in school or doing the chores he had been ordered to do. And even then, whenever he was caught doing something by his Aunt Petunia, or his Uncle Vernon, that they felt wasn't normal he was literally thrown into said rooms.
As mor often then he would like to admit Harry found himself being yanked up and thrown in his room whenever one of the two even thought, he was doing something they deemed unnatural; even if he hadn't been doing anything at all at the time. It was really a regular occurrence, that Harry had felt that he should have long since gotten used to; only he hadn't.
This time he had been thrown back in his cupboard because he had been caught singing along with the radio. Not something that anyone would normally be punished for, even if they had been utterly tone death while doing so; which Harry knew he wasn't. However, in Harry's case, when he was singing along he was doing it in the exact same voice, and tone, as the original person singing; sounding like an exact copy of the singer in question as he did so.
Worst yet, at least in the eyes of his uncle, who had been the one who had caught him singing in the first place. The singer he had been mimicking so perfectly had obviously been an adult female; and therefor so had Harry's voice while he was singing the song he had been. The song being about putting a spell on someone didn't help matters that much either; if anything it made it just that much worse.
Harry when he had originally been doing the singing didn't see the problem with this fact. Seeing as, for as long as he had been able to tell the difference between voices, he had always been able to mimic any voice he had heard; be they male or female. Which was something that had only gotten better the more he had practiced; something Harry did often when he was locked in his so-called room as he had nothing else to do.
He had even heard of other people doing similar things as that, and no one claimed it unnatural for them; in fact, it was considered a profession. A highly paid one at that, so Harry had thought it was normal for him to be able to do so. Or at least normal enough that he wouldn't have gotten punished for it.
But for some reason the fact he could do this, along with a couple of other things Harry had noticed over the last couple of years, seemed to both anger and terrify his so-called family something fierce.
More so then anything else Harry had done before, more so then most things they screamed about did; some of which weren't even about Harry himself surprisingly. Though, not matter how hard he tried, Harry hadn't been able to quite figure out why it seemed to do so in the first place.
But all he knew was that each time one of his so called 'family' caught him doing what he had started to call his mimicking, or anything else they considered unnatural, Harry found himself being harshly punished. With each 'punishment' getting steadily worse and worse as Harry got older and didn't seem to stop be what his family deemed as 'unnatural.'
Unfortunately, Harry seemed to be doing something that angered his relative in some way or another almost all the time; no matter what he tried to do otherwise. Because Harry rarely went even a single day without some type of punishment given to him; let alone some type of injury.
Today had just happened to be a bad one for him and he earned a little more 'punishment' then he usual got. And to think he had been doing so good before, enough so he had even dared to be a bit optimistic about the rest of the day; he should have known better.
Though that had taken a turn for the worst when his uncle had gotten home. Seeing as soon as Harry's uncle had heard him mimicking the female singer on the radio and doing what most would consider a perfect mirroring recording of said singer. He completely lost it and took out all the anger that had been building up all day out of his nephew. Which seemed to be something Vernon often did when he was having a bad day; or whenever he started to really drink.
And because his so-called uncle did this so often Harry had long since gotten used to reactions similar to this; and knew how to best avoid the worst of the injures when his uncle went on one of these rages. Seeing as for at the least year Harry had become used to becoming an outlet for his uncle's temper; as well as his Aunt's whenever she was in the mood.
Something that really heightened Harry's already rather strong pain tolerance. Not to mention gave him a fast, painful, lessons on how to read people's moods; even when they were trying to hide them. As well as taught him in a fast-dirty way the best ways to position his body to avoid the worst of the injuries; while still making it look like he was heavily injured at the same time. Basically, his uncle made sure Harry knew how to survive in his so-called house to the best of his abilities.
This was something that was really shown when Harry hadn't screamed or cry aloud, nor particularly reacted in the way his Uncle had really wanted him to. When said uncle had unbuckled his belt before starting to whip Harry with it; taking special care to hit Harry with the metal buckle of said belt each time he hit him. To really let to lesson sink in, at least that was what Vernon had spat out as he had whipped Harry.
The uncaring attitude, and the seemingly lack of feeling of pain, continued to show as Harry stubbornly remained silent as his uncle continued to whip him, as his uncle continued to attempt to pull a reaction, any reaction, from his coldly stoic nephew.
Who in turn, despite knowing what his uncle wanted from him, refused the give the man the pleasure of hearing him scream. Infuriating Vernon more and more as nothing he did seemed to get the reaction he wanted, causing him to continue to whip the young boy in front of him; pulling blood as he did.
Not that Vernon cared about this as he pushed on, as he keep moving his arm up and down as harshly as he could. Whipping the young boy in front of him with all the strength he could spare, until he was literally too tired to keep moving any further than he already had. Something which took a lot longer than you would originally think when you saw the size of Harry's uncle Vernon; more so when he was fueled by his rage the way he was.
Still by the time that Vernon was done 'punishing' Harry, Harry was nearly collapsing in the small puddle of blood under him and his back was shredded by how many times it had been hit by Vernon's metal belt.
And yet, despite this, despite the utter agony he had to have been in, Harry stubbornly bit his lip and didn't give his uncle to reaction he wanted; actually biting through his lips in his attempts to stay silent. Call it pride, or calling sheer will power, but Harry refused to beg that man for anything.
Not ever again. It hadn't worked in the past and he knew it would never work on that man in question, at least not when it considered him. So, after it failed the first time he swore to never do so again. It wasn't worth all the negative emotions he had felt last time he had done so.
Nor the odd feelings of being utterly caged under his so-called family care after the first time he tried to get mercy off of them. Pain he could deal with, hell he dealt with it everyday for as long as he could remember. But the utter self-loathing, and caged feeing he got, when he had begged left a taste in his mouth, he couldn't get rid of, as well as the unbearably strong urge to never feel like that again. So as long as he could prevent it Harry was going to make sure he never felt like that again.
Harry was on the brink off passing out into said puddle of blood and had been seeing black spots in his vision for longer than he wanted to admit. When his uncle, too tired to even left his arm up anymore, instead decided to get one last good kick in on his kneeling nephew. Sending said nephew back into the cupboard he had been kneeling in front of. As this happened Harry was sure he was going to lose the fight against the darkness as black spots began to dance even more in front of his eyes.
Like it done so several times before when he had undergone similar, though often less sever, punishments. All for something that really wasn't that big a deal to begin with, and more often than not had happened many times before and like then had been blown out of proportion.
Where the majority of them ending with Harry lapsing into unconsciousness as soon as he ended up in his cupboard; and this time was no different. Which is why Harry didn't show much confusion when he slowly and groggily began to wake up from the darkness he had been faced with.
Nor did Harry so much as raise an eyebrow when he saw where he currently was. Which was curled up in the furthest back corner of the cupboard. A place he had long since deemed his as no one else seemed to be able to reach that far back. Neither was he too surprised about the fact that he was covered in his own now sticky dried blood. To him it was nothing to freak out about seeing as Harry had woken up in the exact same situation too many times to count to really care about it anymore.
Harry, as he realized where he was, instead found himself thinking back to what had happened before he had woken up. As a way to remember just why he had ended up where he was in the first place; just as he had done so each time he woke up where he was. Especially when he realized the amount of pain he was currently feeling, as it must have meant that he had done something pretty bad in his 'family's' view of the world.
But mainly Harry did that, because it was good to know just what he had done in the first place to get punished, so as not to have a repeat in punishment Or more importantly so whatever it was he did, he would know what not to do in front of his so-called family.
Though sometimes that couldn't be helped, as a good deal of the time they punished him for something that he couldn't help; that would be repeated despite how much Harry tried otherwise. Like, for example, he continued to be punished for doing better then his cousin in work, but honestly how could you do worse than a zero while actually still doing to work?
Not to mention by going back over what happened to him, had the side effect of making Harry even better at reading the emotions of his so-called family. As well as helping him figure out just how far he can push things before it backlashes on him; though again this didn't always work the way Harry wanted it to.
None the less it was still something that was good to know. So, despite the fact it wasn't always something that helped him, Harry still took care to figure out what had happened each time he had been knocked out and found himself once more curled up in the back of his cupboard.
At the same time, Harry couldn't help but stop and think about something different for a bit, several different thoughts really. That were all based around the same idea that had been plaguing him for a while now. And one that continued to get harder and harder to ignore the more time went by.
These were thoughts of, Why? Why did he put up with his so-called family? Why didn't he try to do something about what they were doing him to him? Why didn't he speak out about what was happening? And most of all just why didn't he do something, anything, to attempt to stop them from hurting him any further? Or at the very least try to get away from them so they couldn't hurt him any further than they had already done so? Why did he just let them hurt them the way they did without doing or saying anything about it to anyone else? Why did he feel the need to keep so quite about it? Why didn't he just defend himself, or better yet free himself from their hold?
It was these thoughts, and the fact his mind just wouldn't let those questions go, that caused Harry to keep on thinking about why. And that keep Harry on thinking on the different things that he could do to stop, or escape form, the hell that was his currently life. Because he knew deep inside himself that he wouldn't be able to stand being in the place much longer without snapping in some way.
When it came to stopping them, Harry knew there really wasn't much he could do. At least not right now, or without some type of help. Help Harry knew he wouldn't be getting, seeing as his so-called family was too popular in their neighborhood for anyone to believe or want to help him. Not only that but his uncle also had several ties with the local cops, that seemed to always look the other way when Vernon suggest it anyway.
Not to mention with the rumors that his oh so loving aunt spread around, both about him and his parents, they might even think he deserved everything that happened to him. Something Harry didn't want to think about or his reactions if someone did say something like that as he knew it wouldn't be pretty; that he knew at the very least.
Which was one of the reasons why Harry never spoke out about what was going on; he knew it would do no good for him to do so. Not in his opinion anyway. In fact, Harry felt that it would most likely only end up with him being punished even more then he already was; maybe even his own death. Which was something no sane person would want. So, with that in mind Harry keep his mouth shut about what was going on; at least until he was sure that speaking up would actually work.
But when it came to escaping them, just what was stopping him from doing that? Was it a fear of the unknown that waiting him that stopped him? Would it stop him if he decided to do actually escape, and honestly if that was the case… or if not, could whatever was out there waiting for him be that much worse then what he was currently undergoing? Was really knowing and understanding just where he currently stood, what his situation was, that much more reassuring then the unknown of escaping?
Because so far, all Harry could think of that could be stopping him from fleeing and escaping the hold of his 'family,' was the fact that at least here he knew just what to expect. Knew just where he stood. However miserable all of that maybe for him, because he at least, for the most part, knew what was happening; even if he wasn't perfect at predicting his uncle's moods yet.
But in the end Harry could say he had an almost schedule where he currently was, he knew what to expect, and at the same time how to best protect himself from some of the dangers that were present. At his family's house, at the place that was supposed to be his home, he knew that while not truly living he could very well survive until he got a chance to truly live else were.
On the outside however, those fact weren't necessarily true; at least not in a way Harry could prove in anyway. But as he had just questioned moment ago, was the outside really that much worse than his current predicament? Was not knowing what was going to happen to him, worse than knowing that something bad was going to happen to him?
Especially when things already seemed to be getting steadily worse for him in his so-called home. More so then ever, since it seemed that likely that sometime in the future, a very close future if things continued as they were, it would most likely be his own uncle would end up killing him in a fit of rage. Or at the very least maiming him badly enough that he likely wouldn't recover fully from it. Permanently leaving him a cripple in some way. Was really being in the known worth all of that?
This last thought echoed around Harry's head uneasily as unconsciousness began to claim him once more. Making it obvious he hadn't been well enough to wake up fully yet and had only been awake as long as he had from pure stubbornness. His mind, and body, simply holding on until he couldn't anymore.
As he finally gave into the now sweet call of darkness, the earlier thought was joined by another, what if he had a way to survive the outside world, would he be more willing to leave then?
It had been a little over a week since the seven-year-old Harry began to really wonder perhaps if he had a, not completely safe, but a safer way to survive on the streets, then would that end up being better for him altogether then where he currently was.
For the next week those thoughts, and several thoughts very similar to it refused to stop pledging him and continued to do so even when he had been sleeping. Due to this, Harry had begun looking at every talent he had as a way to settle the thoughts he continued to have.
Making sure to go through ever talent or skill Harry felt that he had. Rather they be small seemingly useless common talents or larger more unique sounding talents. Going over all of them to see if they could help him on the streets like he wanted them to be able to.
So far, Harry had been able to figure out how his talents with things like, cooking cleaning, he had a rather good ability in finding food, at running at high speeds. Not to mention his ability to hide in plain sight, skills in stealing, and his ability to pick up on details most would miss in a single glance. All of which he could see being extremely helpful if he did decide to flee his so-called home; in one way or another.
Not to mention, Harry could also see how his abilities in mimicking voices could be extremely valuable in surviving on the street; as well as a lot of other places. Even if he did feel weary about using it because he had already been punished harshly for it once already. What would someone else, who didn't have make sure he actually lived through a punishment, do to him if they found out what he could do; and they didn't like in a way similar to his uncle?
Yet, at the same time Harry wasn't sure if it was enough, something in him was screaming at him that he needed something else, something more. That without it his survival would be a lot more difficult then it would otherwise. Worst yet this feeling was all but screaming at him that what he needed was just in his reach.
But first, he needed to actually find out what it was before he could do anything else with it. This is what his gut feeling was screaming at him and Harry knew that he wouldn't dare try to take to the streets until he found out just what this something else was; something in his very being refused to let him.
And listening to those feeling had been something that had saved him from the worst of his 'family's' temper on several occasions. Not to mention also, led him to finding things that made Harry life a bit easier than it had been; so Harry had learned to continue to listen to those feeling. After all they had never led him wrong before.
Harry was thrown from his thoughts of what this something could be, when a commotion coming from behind the tree he was leaning against, alerted Harry to the fact his cousin and his little gang were coming his way.
Hearing this and knowing that his already badly bruised and battered body really couldn't take yet another beating so soon. At least not one that the gang coming his way would unleash on him if they did find him, especially not so soon after his most recent beating he had received. Knowing this, Harry took off running as fast as his body would allow him; the scenery around him blurring past him as he took off.
Harry as he did this, couldn't help but be immensely grateful that he knew the entire area around him like the back of his hand. Especially as he quickly took a sharp turn very few knew was there, and as he did this he listened as the group of bully's footsteps, that had been chasing him just seconds ago, got fainter.
Hearing this and knowing that he didn't have long before the others figured out what he had done, or before they found him once again, Harry began to wonder just what he was going to do next. As he knew that the chase, he had just been part of was far from over, and most likely just got a bit more difficult for him; despite he had just lost those chasing for the time being.
Seeing as while the turn he had just taken had gotten him away from the others it was also pretty much a path that led to a dead end; after a good dealing of running in a straight path at that. Which would leave Harry with the choice of either getting trapped by the dead end, climbing up and over the fence that was off to the side and try escaping that way. Or if not, that turning back around the way had originally came and potentially running back into Dudley's gang's arms.
Knowing this and hearing the footsteps from before coming back Harry began to curse slightly, mainly the fact that his luck was just that bad. At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder why, just for the time being he couldn't have been a girl, like the one he had run past down the street? Then his cousin and his so-called friends would leave him alone; even if it was because of something as ridiculous as cooties.
But still, if he was a girl they would run right passed him, they would ignore him like they had the other girl, it would be safer for him to be for a girl; at least for the time being it would. And at that moment Harry wanted nothing more than to be a girl. If only for a moment.
Shouts of 'he must of went this way!' and the thuds of heavy sounding footsteps alerted Harry to the fact that the gang he had been trying to escape from not that long ago and had actually managed to do so for a minute or so, had most likely found him once more. Meaning that they would most likely me on his tail in a matter of moments.
Not only that but Harry also realized, to his horror, that he had also stop running for the last couple of seconds while he had been thinking; meaning he had lost the few precious feet he had had ahead of the group coming his way.
Eyes wide as Harry recognizing this, he quickly bits his lips to stop himself from cursing aloud, and simply got ready to start running again. Hopefully if he could hop the fence that was to the left of him, he'd be able to get far enough way that the others wouldn't be able to catch him; at least not without some serious luck on their side. Only to freeze and stumble when Dudley cried out; obviously talking directly at Harry as he did so.
"Hey, you there. Have you seen a weak, nerdy, looking boy in glasses with messy black hair and sickly-looking green eyes running past here? Me and my friends are looking from him…we're playing a game of catch."
Hearing this, Harry could only stare wide eyed at his cousin, not believing what he was hearing from him. Not the insults, as that was rather tame by his cousin's standard, but the fact he was asking Harry about, well himself.
However, it seemed Harry had been quite for too long for Dudley, and the rest of his gang. Because before Harry could say anything to what he had just been asked, he found himself being pushed to the side as the group of boys took off running in the direction they had come from before. As they all went back to where the whole chase had started from in the beginning; obviously believing that Harry has circled back or done something similar to that.
Leaving a slightly gapping Harry left wondering on the last words Dudley had spate out at him as he had run off with the other. After all a call of 'stupid girl' being spat at them from someone that knew them would leave any boy wondering wouldn't it?
At the same time as he was wondering why his cousin was calling him a girl of all things, Harry couldn't help but also wonder why they had just ran past him and didn't seemed to recognize him in the least bit as they did so.
After all they had been chasing him with the intent to beat him to the ground not just moments ago. That is Harry was wondering about that, until he caught sight of himself in a nearby broken mirror; or to be more specific he caught sight of herself.
Harry barely choked back a scream as he, or rather as she, saw this. But then after only a second of staring in pretty much horror at his new reflection the terror in his eye quickly began to get a much more calculating glint in it; especially as he took in all the changes his body had undergone.
Because at least now he knew exactly why no one seemed to know just who he, or should Harry say she, was; let alone link her to Harry potter. After all Harry's current refection certainly wasn't what it was just before he had turned in the ally he had been chased into.
No, instead where his reflection was supposed to be was now a young girl who looked around a year younger than Harry's actual age was. Meaning currently Harry's reflection was looking to be around the age of six or maybe seven, then nearly eight-year-old Harry actual was.
Not only that but currently Harry seemed to have long bright blood red hair that fell in wild looking curls down to the middle of her back, and to top it off Harry found himself staring in to a pair of rather eerie looking glowing purple eyes. Definitely not what Harry had woken up to this morning.
Yes, nowhere near the wild back hair and green eyes he normal had. Yet at the same time somehow slightly familiar to him none the less. Well besides the eyes as they seemed vaguely familiar but slightly off at the same time; like the color wasn't exactly right. Why though Harry could really tell you.
Seeing this, Harry quickly began to consider what had just happened, and why it had happened for that matter. Had it been something he was doing, or had done, that had changed him in such a way? And if so, could he somehow do it again? Could he control whatever he had done? Could he do something like that again, with a different look? Again, if so, if he could do that, along with his talent with his talent of mimicking other voices, it would prove rather invaluable if he decided to life a life on the street. Something that seemed to be more and more likely the longer he thought about it; not to mention he more violent his 'family' got with him.
Knowing this, and also knowing he now had a good several hours until he was due to come back to his so-called family's house, as they didn't want him around unless he had chores to do. Harry decided it was time to see if he could actually control what had just happened to him, and if he could, then he wanted to test how far he could go with it.
After all, if Harry could get that down, if he could somehow control just what he looked like because he willed himself to look a certain way, then Harry knew he would have nearly everything he would need to survive on the streets. At least that was what Harry was hoping and if not, he'd have at the very least the basics of what he needed to best survive the streets.
But still, even if Harry for some reason decided not to go to the streets, it was something he knew he needed to practice, and eventual control. If only so no one else would see him change the way he looked and deiced to find out just why he could do so; as Harry was no one science experiments. Or, in his family case, most likely kill him for doing so. After all, shifting his body like he had was most defiantly not something a normal person could do. If anything, it was the very definition of abnormal.
Sighing, Harry tried to tone down the excitement he was feeling. Because he knew, despite how much he wanted to deny it, that before he did anything else, like he really wanted to do, he first needed to find out if he could change back. He needed to first find out if he could control the shifting of his physical looks; otherwise he was just getting ahead of himself.
Knowing this, Harry grabbed the nearby mirror. The very one he had used to first find out that he had somehow changed into a female and began to focus on transforming back into what he had looked like before; back into his original form.
After all, if he couldn't do that Harry knew for sure he was going to be in for a lot of trouble. Not only with his 'dear' family but most likely in a lot of other things as well. After all Harry really had no idea how to live a life as a girl. Hell, he honestly wasn't sure about living a life as a boy as it was. Seeing as he really never had been allowed to freely live as he wanted by his so-called family.
Not to mention Harry really wouldn't put it past his family to literarily throw him out and claim to have no idea who SHE was if he even dared attempt to go to his so-called home in this form. Which would be Harry in even more danger as he would have originally been as Harry on the streets seeing as, in his original form, he was at least known by some. But this form was a complete unknown and would have no one actually looking for her if she suddenly disappeared; because as far as anyone knew she never really existed to begin with.
Not only that but before he tried to shift his looks to anyone else, he wanted to make sure he could shift back to what was his true self. After all, it was the form that he knew the best; as he saw it in detail every day when he had to patch himself up from his uncle's rages. And at the moment it was the safest form for him to try to shift back to. Seeing as it was the only form that he knew that had a current identity and at the very least some form a shelter; however, cruel the shelter was to him.
So, holding the mirror up, and closing his eyes to help with his concentration, Harry focused on what he had looked like before he had shifted into the female form he was currently in; focusing as hard as he could on the details that made up Harry Potter. And then to his shock, Harry thought he could feel his features literally shifting back to what they had been. Or at least it felt like he could feel them moving around as he wasn't actual sure if he could really feel them moving around or if it was just his imagination.
Opening his eyes to see if that feeling was correct Harry let lose a sigh of both joy and relieve when he saw the familiar pale face and brilliant green eyes staring back at him. He had been able to shift back to his true form now it was time to see if he could change into other people; besides the female one he had just been. It was time to see if he could control what he was starting to call the shifting and truly become a mimicker; of both features and voices.
It was time to see if he found one of the key points of his escape from the Dursley family, because if he could control what he looked like. Harry knew that there was no way he was going to stay with his 'family' any longer than it took for him to get enough supplies to make a good run for it. Feeling it would actually be safer on the streets for him, then he would ever have been in that place that everyone wanted him to call a 'home'; something it never was or never would be to Harry.