Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Elfen Lied. They are owned by their respective... well... owners.

AN: I was just re-watching Elfen Lied last week and I got an urge to write something about it (about her backstory in particular). Well, behold the result and criticize as much as you want without worrying about making me cry.

Warning: Plenty of profanity here. Since this is Elfen Lied, gore is sure to follow in later chapters as well.

Harry sat down on the chair with the shit that they tried to pass off as food held in his hands. Four years and it still tasted like shit to him. Starvation, he wasn't too keen on though. He slowly brought the soggy clump of half-cooked mess up to his open mouth and swallowed quickly, not eager to chew. Not as terrible as some other days. He swallowed another spoonful. Yes, this was one of the better ones.

"Look at the horned freak, she wasn't even given food."

The jeer, directed at the newest girl in the orphanage, was followed by a dreaded chorus of laughs. Oh their laughter, how pleasant, how melodious! It felt as if he was sitting in a peaceful garden while some fuck hammered nails into his eardrums. Fortunately for his ears, the laughter died out quickly allowing him to focus his thoughts on its target. The girl, with a head of shocking red hair, matching eyes and most strangely, two white horns on her head, had only been here a month but had somehow garnered hate from almost everyone here. She did resemble an experiment gone wrong rather than a human being so that was not completely unexpected. He still had no idea if she was the kind to break down and cry or the sort to bury it all within to kill them all someday in one psychotic explosion of emotion. Personally, he was hoping for the latter (as long as he had a warning).

Letting the spoonful drop back into the bowl, he turned to look at the red girl. It was too late for her to get the portion of food but no one seemed interested in informing her. Without a warning, a clump food flew at her from somewhere behind him. Turning behind, he saw that it was the rat-face bastard who was throwing shit around. The whiny little bitch was probably going cry about not getting enough food for lunch later. It seemed that it was the limit of bullying she could take and she went to leave through the door with her head hung. The door that was unfortunately just on his right. He tried to take cover as soon as his mind caught up with the danger but he wasn't fast enough. A piece of carrot struck him in the left eyeball, making his vision explode into stars.

"Son of a bitch!" With an angry curse, he hurled his spoon at the asshole. A scream of pain told him his shot rang true even when his vision shook. That rat-faced fucker was going to die today. As soon as he could see straight.

"POTTER!" A familiar roar silenced everyone in the hall. Oh goddamn everything.

Caretaker Huxley was not an evil person, that much he was sure of. No matter how hard he was on Harry, it wasn't out of malice or sadism but a genuine desire to turn him into a 'better person'. He was, however, the single most unpleasant fuck Harry had the misfortune of meeting in his life. The fact that he always appeared just in time to catch Harry (and Harry only) didn't help his likability. The first sight that greeted him once his vision cleared was the aged caretaker closing in on him. His face already an ugly purple colour, signifying that you just fucked up big time. When he spoke, it was with a barely restrained calm tone taking making him all the more intimidating.

"Potter, I just don't know what is wrong with you." He sighed looking an unpleasant combination of tired and angry. "Please be honest here."

Everyone's attention was on him now, including the rat-face who was holding a rag over his bleeding forehead. Heh. Before he could bring his focus to Huxley's ugly mug, he noticed the red girl staring from the door. She was just looked at him with a strange expression as her red eyes met his green ones. He was transfixed for a moment. Just look how crimson they were! A pleasant tingle went through his spine and spread through his entire body.

"Do you hate me and try to do things I expressively forbid out of spite? Or are you filled with admiration but lacking a brain to comprehend the rules? Please enlighten me." He tore his eyes away from the girl and looked at the angry caretaker. He met the furious gaze and gave the only right answer.

Silence. Ha, take that.

"Answer me you useless ingrate!" And there went any semblance of calmness Huxley was giving. Nice word though, ingrate. He had to use it sometime.

A smile formed on his face, the most smug and punchable one he could manage. "I have nothing but respect for you, sir." His tone was laced with a paper-thin facade of sincerity.

"I find it commendable that a piece of dogshit managed to learn human speech."

What the hell. If he was going to get his ass beat again, might as well make the punishment worth it.

Two hours later and a painful caning later, Harry was sitting on a moldy bench in the abandoned park behind the orphanage. Years of neglect had caused the overgrowth to cover most of the park. Ideal for hiding from prying eyes, as long as you do it quietly. Years at this place made him somewhat of an expert in hiding. A stone pebble was held in his hand loosely and his face was drawn in concentration.

'Move.' He thought forcefully. 'Move. Move. MOVE. MOVE!'

He gritted his teeth and thought one last time with all the mental force he could muster.

MOVE!

The pebble crawled and inch in his palm causing a wave of euphoric satisfaction. It wasn't much but Harry felt that he was improving. Letting out a sign of relief, he let the stone drop on the ground.

He didn't remember why, or how or even since when but one thing he knew for sure was that there was more to his power than shaking small stones. His powers reared their head time and again, mostly during fights but never in the same way twice. Once he even managed to somehow managed to turn himself invisible while running from a beating. His newest practice session was inspired by his uncanny marksmanship against that rat-faced guy earlier today. Hitting the target while blinded was simply not possible. No fucking way. He was just a pissed off boy, not some grizzled old gunslinger with a lifetime of experience in shooting elusive targets.

He wanted to control this power somehow. Making things always hit their target, turn himself invisible at will, blast people away with a gesture. He could be powerful, he could finally,

"Get away from this piece of shit place." He murmured softly, looking at the cloudy sky peeking from behind the canopy.

He was shaken out of his thinking by a rustle in a nearby bush. A pair of crimson eyes. The red girl was standing a few feet away from him, spying from the looks of it. A chill went through his body. How much did she see?

"Hey!" He said with the fakest, brightest smile he could muster. Calm down. Nothing's been ruined yet. They'll more likely chuck her into the loony bin rather than dissect him for study. Calm down. No need to panic just yet.

He noticed a strange expression etched on her face. Was it surprise? Have you never seen a bloke practice telekinesis? She was getting closer. Fear? Are you afraid I'll snap your neck from afar? She drew closer still. He could make out a smile, a nervous smile. Happiness?

"I saw you move it." She whispered with a voice full of excitement. More emotion than he ever heard her display. "Do you use your arms for that?" She continued excitedly ignoring his incredulous reaction.

Her red eyes were alight with emotion. She stared at his confused face and explained. "Y'know, arms. Like big strong arms that you feel around you." She waved her arms for emphasis. "Other than the two, I mean." He slowly looked away from her and at the pebble on the ground. She crouched beside him without another word. Forward, wasn't she? Where did all her spirit go in front of others? Shaking away the thoughts, he concentrated. An image solidified in his mind; a powerful ethereal hand grabbing the puny pebble and shoving it away with contempt.

MOVE!

A gasp escaped his lips as he felt something flex in his mind. The stone had moved six inches, more than he ever deliberately managed. Ah, sweet progress. She was staring at him again. What was going through her mind? Does she think she found a friend? Someone like her? Someone who likes her?

"What can you do?" He curiously asked after a moment of contemplation.

The smile promptly slid off her face at the question. She looked downcast now. He felt bad somehow.

"Well, I can feel the arms sometimes but that's all." Well, he did kinda owe her for helping him with the trick. No waste in being nice in exchange.

"You gotta practice if you want to other stuff. If you're like me then you'll get it someday."

He realized that she was looking at the top of his head, hopefully not practicing her powers. She reached out with her hand and ran her hand through his hair. A pleasant shiver went through him once again.

"No, I do not have a horn." He half-heartedly tried to shake her hand off. "It would be plenty visible if I had one, wouldn't it?"

"Then how are we similar?" She looked worried now. Worried at never being able to make stones shake with her mind? Worried that she was the only one in the world with horns? He looked at the two smooth bone-white horns extending from beneath her red hair. They were probably cancerous or something.

"I'm not talking about looks. No two people have same looks 'cept when they're twins." His assurances weren't working. He could see that she was going back to her miserable public self. Goddammit, why can't he just let it go. "Look, I'll even help you with it. If you like."
"Really?" Disbelief was apparent in her features. Wasn't she talking to him like he was her new best friend just moments ago? Girl was weird.

"You did teach me a new trick so I owe you one."

She thanked him with a smile. He felt a lot better about himself. With a smile of his own, he called out after her.

"Just warn me before the murders start, will ya?"

Harry got to know the red girl a lot better in the following weeks. Well enough to even call themselves friends, even. While he hardly paid attention to her (or anyone else, really) outside of their routine meet-ups, he realized quickly that she was quite a puzzle. As lazy as he was, he liked a good puzzle every now and then so he had set out to discern some things about her.

The first thing he realized was that she wasn't really into learning about her possible powers. That was probably good since they hadn't met one goddamn bit of progress in an entire week. Not that she missed her lessons or anything, she just wouldn't really show any disappointment when she failed. He never doubted that she had some power though; you just don't get red eyes and horns without some power to go along.

The second thing, that was pretty obvious when he thought about it, was that she loathed everyone else. Maybe it was because they were 'normal', or because they had annoying voices. Or perhaps it was because they throw food at her. Fuck it, its not like he was a fan of them either.

The final significant thing that he had managed to learn was that she was far more emotional than he thought. His first conversation wasn't a fluke. The fact that that genuine emotions existed underneath the frosty and slightly creepy exterior made him slightly happier. He also learned her name but that don't really count since he kept forgetting and she grew tired of reminding him. Not very odd for him since Huxley was the one person here whose name he could remember without having to think for a minute.

There was plenty he didn't know though, starting with why she approached him in the first place and ending with what exactly she was after (and a lot of 'why the fuck does she have horns' in between). That brings him back to today. One of the sunnier days in quite a while. The kind of day where he could just lay on the grass and enjoy the sun and quiet without getting bored.

"Hey horns, still haven't found your bag?"

But most unfortunately, it wasn't to be. His poor pale skin, meetings with Huxley were terrible for them. He got up into a sitting position to get a better look at what was going on.

"How the fuck did he get someone to follow him?" He whispered, unable to contain his surprise.

A boy, recognizable for the nigh-permanent smirk on his face, was trying to taunt and intimidate the girl with his brand new posse of sycophants. Smirky (he wasn't good with names) was something of an odd specimen. He didn't have any sort of brawn to him like some of the older bullies nor did he have any brain. Not only was the top floor empty but the concrete itself had more shit than cement. Despite all that he had for some reason made his life aim to become the orphanage's prime bully. Unfortunately, his epic journey of self discovery and killing kittens was cut short when he discovered that he would get his ass beat by anyone with two functioning limbs and a few with one. This probably left just one target that wouldn't fight back.

Smirk, who had now finally found some followers, had the red girl surrounded. She was hanging her head down while sitting on the moldy bench (their practise spot). She was pretty early to the practise, three hours to be exact. Looking closely, he saw that she was taking the taunts without any visible reactions. Probably ripping their innards out in her mind. He stretched his body languidly and stood up. The situation was still the same, the bullies would taunt her in various torturously uncreative manners and she would continue mimicking a mannequin.

One of them took a step forward and shoved her, making her fall of the bench and into the dirt. They laughed as she tried to crawl away from them in a futile attempt to escape. The leader gave the order,

"Hold him down. Don't let him run away."

The fat bully approached with a grin on his blubbery face. "Freak, this is for making me look bad-"

He was running before he realized it. His veins burned with rage and his mind clouded with anger. There were four of them in total. He could take as many as two in a fight. Three would be iffy and four presented terrible odds. Surprise was on his side though. His mind whirred as he stepped closer to them. Take two of them out of commission while they were distracted. That was his best chance. His mind was growing colder with each step and emotions started to freeze. Harry let himself sink deep inside his mind. Turning his mind into steel, he stepped into the fight.

He lashed out with his fist putting all his strength behind it. It struck Dudley on the back of the head with a satisfying thud. Left or Right. Left or Right. The one on the right was busy trying to kick the girl. The bully's kicks were caught short as a knee impacted his groin. Turning towards the left, he saw a fist coming towards his face.

The punch made him stumble back and fall on his back allowing the remaining goons to rain kicks down on him. With a growl, he kicked out with his right foot using all his might. The desperate blow caught one on the chin and sent him sprawling. Taking the surprise of the remaining one as an opening, he lashed out with all his power. This time, power came to his call shooting down to his right palm like an electric jolt. All his emotions returned in a wave as he shoved his palm forward. He bared a bloody grin as the attacker went flying, pushed away by an invisible force. Shakily, he stood up on his feet not letting the grin slide even a biit.

They were running away, crawling, crying and bleeding. Just like THEM. He let out a bark of laughter at their retreating backs.

"You like that you ingrate motherfuckers, you!" He throat hurt but he didn't care as he shouted at them. "Aha-haha! Come back here!"

His laughter was interrupted as his legs wobbled and gave out beneath him making him fall face first into a nearby bush. Blearily, he opened his eyes and through the thick foliage, he saw a small creature looking at him curiously. A puppy?

"Fuck off!" he growled out making it yelp and run in terror. The adrenaline had faded far too quickly leaving only the pain. He felt something tug at his from behind. Using his arms, he pushed allowing Red to pull him free of the bush.

"Thanks," he breathlessly whispered. "I think I swallowed a branch."

She was looking down at him with a worried expression on her face. She presented a miserable sight with teary face, bruised arms and clothes caked in a layer of mud. All the satisfaction of winning the fight went straight out the window leaving only wounds and guilt. She just stared for a second, as if making sure his limbs were still attached. She stuck out a pale, thin, hand. "Ummm... sorry for getting you in trouble."

He twisted his bruised lips into a smile and clasped her hand allowing her to pull him up.

"And thanks." She added.