Title: We're Not In Kansas Anymore

Summary: It probably said something about the celebrity treatment of the Dursley household that when Harry wished to be free of them, his magic dumped him at the doorstep of a family of honest-to-god assassins.
Or: That one drabble where the Zoldyck's aren't abusive dickbags, and we're all better people for it.

Words: 2,453

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Notes: I have no idea what this is or how Harry knows about magic at the age of, like, seven or whatever but he does. Go with it. I don't know how to write normal children.
(New note!) Complete! I said I was going to continue this but I didn't and I won't and I'm okay with that. Edited it for the cosmetic stuff. The email notification is a lie: there is no chapter two! I'm a fool and clicked new chapter instead of update/replace chapter. *Awkward throat clear* ...my bad?

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It probably said something about the celebrity treatment of the Dursley household that when Harry wished to be free of them, his magic dumped him at the doorstep of a family of honest-to-god assassins.

Well... he hadn't thought his life was so bad that killers for hire were apparently a step up in the world, but he wasn't going to take the next train back to Surrey, so it'd have to do.

It was just... come on.

Assassins? Who'd a thunk?

Also, what was up with his hair?

Harry beelined for the nearest mirror and cataloged the changes. There were… more than he figured there would be.

His messy short hair had grown to shoulders, thankfully still a curly mess (Harry didn't know what he would do if it wasn't!) It was still black and all but way softer than he'd experienced before. His eyes were weirdly green, and he wasn't wearing glasses. Apparently didn't need to. Everything was nice and clear without the need for wire digging into the bridge of his nose.

It was kind of neat, actually.

His nose was smaller and flatter, his eye shape wider and gaze a lot more intense than he remembered it being, and he had the best poker face ever. Still pretty short, except his arms were cords of muscle and he couldn't feel his ribs poking out from under his skin. It was a pleasant change from usual.

He'd already looked around his room. It was spartan by normal standards: a single bed with a lamp on a bedside table, dark green carpet, dark wood for the walls. For Harry's standards, however, this was paradise. He had an en-suite bathroom!

After spending a healthy moment wandering his room and gaping at everything (the sheets were so soft), he discovered a framed picture on his bedside table. It was of him and a white-haired man made entirely of muscle. On the back were the words: 14.7.177. Silva and Tolluno. Tolluno's first kill as a family assassin!

Going by the way the names were written, Harry was fairly certain that he was Tolluno. Weird name. Harry had been repeating it to himself to get used to the sound of it so he'd recognize it when someone inevitably called out to him using it. He wasn't counting on hearing 'Harry' any time soon, so.

Then again, he didn't hear it that often around the Dursley's anyhow. An actual name was better than boy.

Apart from that one photo with "Silva," there wasn't much in the way of personal items. His clothes consisted almost entirely of dark green and black — he sensed a theme here — and there was a worrying amount of needles hidden in every shirt he'd put on. The dartboard hung up on the wall stuck with darts cluttering the bulls-eye. It was a bit intimidating.

It was good, though. Suspected assassin that he was, he thought the room was nice and big and calming, and the whole having a room thing had convinced Harry to give this new life an honest shot. Of course, until he had a proper grasp on what was going on, he'd be letting his body go through the motions.

"Tolluno! Come down here, would you? I need your opinion on something!"

That would be...

… actually, Harry hadn't the foggiest.

The woman had the same screeching quality to her voice as Petunia did, so he would have pegged her as his aunt just on principle, but Harry didn't have a clue what anything was. New body, new experiences.

Hopefully he didn't mess anything up.

His big green eyed reflection stared back at him, perplexed and offering no magical (ha) solution to this newfound problem. He sighed and turned around. "Coming!" He hollered back, letting his legs navigate the castle that was evidently his home now. Every hallway looked exactly the same to him. If it were up to his sense of direction, he'd be walking around in circles until he starved to death.

Luckily for Harry, magic proved itself to be a reliable and thoughtful entity that threw him into a life his presence was already established in and a body that remembered which winding corridor lead to the drawing room and which lead to the gymnasium.

Eventually, he entered a room that rang no bells whatsoever. It had to be the correct one though, so yipee! He figured this due to the slim woman sitting standing with needles and threads in her mouth, tailoring a frilly Victorian style dress on a kid that looked remarkably like her. Harry was also pretty sure the kid in the dress was a boy but you'd be getting no judgment from Harry, no sirree. To each to their own.

Or however that saying went.

His possible-aunt wore this awesome headgear that acted as her eyes: from the vision to the expression of emotion. Wicked. When she looked up at his entrance, Harry was flattered to note that the screen of her visor formed a pixel heart. Although he couldn't see her eyes, Harry could tell that he bore a striking resemblance to the woman, and decided that she had to be his mother.

Thank god for that. Harry had quite enough of shrieking aunt's to last one lifetime; he didn't need to bring it over into his next one. He was really okay without them.

"Oh, Tolluno, that was quick! Good, good, come over here, darling. Hurry!" She gestured him forward with an urgent tone, hands a mite bit preoccupied holding the dress in certain areas. Harry had no idea what she was doing but she looked like she was doing an alright job. Good on her. "What do you think?"

He looked at the person wearing the dress — bob hair, pink irises, beauty mark, please grant me the sweet release of death eyes — and grinned hesitantly.

"It looks... good?"

His mum hummed. "You don't think there's too many ruffles?"

"Of course not," The dress was so poofy that the model couldn't look down without suffocating themself on the ruffled collar. "It's perfect."

The model, who Harry was beginning to realize looked a lot like him as well, was raising their eyebrows in amusement. Harry returned the favor. What were they laughing at?

"I knew you'd love it!" Squealed his cyborg mum, pinning things in place or whatever before grabbing him and pulling him into her bosom. Harry, having never been hugged before, wrapped his arms around her in a sort of numb awe. "It's for you to wear!"

What?

"... Huh?"

The model and Harry's possible-sibling snorted, eyes shining. They kept up the sheen of amusement even when Harry glanced over and shot them a look that universally meant 'shut up you're not helping at all.'

"The ball, Tolluno! With the Svalbard family!"

"Erm..."

Mum put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips. "Don't tell me you've forgotten!" Harry really didn't know what he could say to this. "Tolluno! You said you'd try your best not to forget! Have you been showing up for your ballroom dancing lessons with your older brother?"

Ballroom dancing? Why did an assassin need to know how to dance?

Also: Older what now?

The model was snickering into their filly collar with a vindictive glee that, more than their resemblance could, assured Harry that they were definitely related. Only a sibling could find such a situation hilarious. That meant he had an older brother and a younger... someone.

"Shut up," Harry hissed to the sibling, who merely snorted in reply. He rolled his eyes and straightened his back to look at his mum. She stared back, waiting for an answer. He couldn't even remember what she'd said. "Wait, what did you say? I forgot."

Quicker than a whip, she whacked him over the head with a closed hand fan.

He yelped. "Ow!" Sheesh! Rubbing his head, he glared at the sibling outright laughing at him. "Why'd do I have to wear a dress anyway?"

"Kalluto, stop laughing at your brother!" Mum ordered primly. Kalluto — weird name but still better than Tolluno, lucky bastard — shut themself up real quick as to avoid their mother's wrath. "Tolluno, really! You're so scatterbrained! Have you forgotten about your lessons entirely?"

"I really just want to know why I have to wear a dress, honestly."

Smack!

"Ow!" He thought the abuse was supposed to be left behind in Surrey!

"You know you can't hide weapons in a suit!"

"Oh. Yeah, obviously, of course," His mum might have narrowed her eyes. Whatever she actually did (it was anyone's guess, what with the visor and all), it made Harry's hackles rise. "Sorry! Sorry, I forgot. Again."

Kalluto made a high pitched keening noise, shoulders shaking. Harry reached out to kick them in the shin, delighting in the pained yell it got him. He stepped back to avoid a responding kick and sent a smug glance in Kalluto's vicinity. Kalluto narrowed their eyes.

This is war, those pink eyes promised him.

Harry tilted his head innocently. Sorry, what was that?

You inspire a hatred in me that can only be fathomed in song form, worm, responded Kalluto's eyes.

Connection's dodgy, man, I'm not getting any of that. Could you say it a little louder?

"Ugh," Kalluto said aloud, sounded defeated. Yes!

Harry grinned in victory. And then yelled again when his mother's hand fan reacquainted itself with the crown of his head. "Are you even listening to me, Tolluno?"

"Of course I am!" Harry lied without a second thought, shocking himself. He never lied to the Dursley's — it was either the truth or silence. It was almost exciting to realize that he was the type of person who could do that. "And, uh, I agree."

"You agree?" His mum repeated dryly. He needed to tread carefully.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. Agreeing with the Dursley's never disappointed him before. Why fix it if it wasn't broke? "With all my heart, mom!" The screen of her visor went to static. He blinked, confused. Was he off the hook or not? "Mom? You okay?"

The static somehow got worse before things cleared up. The screen was full of hearts. Harry was pretty confused. He looked to Kalluto to see if they had any clue was what going on, but they were staring at him with wide, surprised eyes.

... Oh-kay... what did he do?

"You know what?" His mum said in an airy voice that unsettled him a little bit. "It's okay that you forget things sometimes, you can't help it."

Kalluto's jaw dropped.

"Would you like some ice cream?" She asked Harry, smiling. It was the type of purely happy smile that transformed someone's face into something beautiful, but Harry could only feel weirded out. "I'll let you get a triple scoop!"

No way, a triple scoop? "Oooh, yes! That'd be awesome, mom!"

Her screen staticed up again. She clapped her hands together and ruffled his curly hair, pleased. "I'll go and change then, shall I? Get ready, Tolluno, we'll go right now!" Without further adieu, she swept out of the room, practically gliding.

Harry was... really confused, honestly, but the prospect of triple scoop ice cream was distracting him well. Grinning, he turned to Kalluto.

"Ice cream, Kalluto! Did you hear that?" He gushed excitedly.

Kalluto eyed him with something like grudging respect in their eyes. "Well played," They said lowly, assuredly killing Harry's buzz. Except totally not because triple scoop ice cream! "Calling her 'mom' like that, knowing that such a childish term of endearment would cut through her defenses. You're good. With your idiotic blubbering, I'd almost forgotten what a master player of The Game you were."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry confessed.

Kalluto scoffed. "Sure you don't."

"I really don't though."

"Go out and eat your triple scoop ice cream, agender spawn of Satan."

"Agender spawn of satan?! What gives?!"

They narrowed their eyes. "When Milluki finds out about this, you'll get what's coming to you."

Nothing made sense but Harry was going to get ice cream so who even cared? "Fine, stay here and monologue then. I guess you don't want ice cream."

They blushed angrily. "As if you were going to offer that anyway!" They snapped, which, umm, what? What a strange thing to say.

"Of course I was going to offer, mom forced you into that dress so she could tailor it for me. You deserve the ice cream."

That stumped Kalluto. They stared blankly at Harry for a long, awkward moment before blinking and rearing back. "Ah." They said.

"Yeah. Ah."

"... I can have ice cream with you and mother?"

"What else are you going to do?"

"Find Illumi, use our mutual resentment over you getting ice cream to form a truce, and read his copy of the recount of the Battle of Carthage. I'll read it in front of you. You will do nothing to stop me," Said Kalluto promptly.

That sounded so boring, but there was a spark of excitement in Harry's chest that betrayed his mind. Oh man, he was a history nerd, wasn't he?

"Would you have let me borrow it after you were done?"

"No, you would have gotten ice cream with mother."

"Rude," Harry puffed, amused despite himself. "It's not like you can go out wearing that. Mom would kill you if you dirtied it."

Kalluto rolled their eyes. "You don't have to keep calling her that when she's not here, you know," They said. "Oh and just so you're aware: If you leave without me, I'll melt down all your needles and make them into a bracelet."

"That doesn't sound so bad. I can always get more needles, and a bracelet sounds nice."

"It will have 'Tolluno Zoldyck still wets the bed' engraved in big, bold letters. Maybe even comic sans."

Harry snorted. "Seriously?"

Kalluto nodded gravely. "I promise."

Harry, strangely, expected nothing else. He wasn't surprised by what Kalluto had said — just a bit admiring. "Luckily, you don't have to go through that much trouble. I won't leave you behind."

They rose their eyebrows. "I'll really do it."

"I know, Kalluto."

They started walking backwards into a changing room (maybe?). "I mean it, Tolluno." Harry rolled his eyes. "Tolluno Zoldyck still wets the bed!" They called in reminder.

"Hurry up already!" Harry jokingly hurried. "We don't have all day!"

Kalluto barely smirked and yet Harry knew instinctively that it was their version of a blinding grin. Overwhelmed by the knowledge, he answered with one of his own, and sighed happily when the door clicked behind Kalluto.

Was this what it felt like to have a family?

It could have been worse.