Harry woke up to an empty hotel room. Mr. Lowe had told him to sleep, and he really had to go potty, but he didn't dare disobey so he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking. Itreally wasn't much different than waiting on Aunt Petunia to unlock his cupboard door in the morning Even so, itt was really hard to try to think about anything else. Come on, Harry! You have to obey Mr. Lowe, or he's gonna put you into foster care. They'll beat you up and do bad things to you!
He had said he wouldn't hit him, but Harry thought he was just being nice because he was being good. Surely if Mr. Lowe came back in to see him out of bed, he'd get mad and throw something at him or hit him upside the head for not listening.
He'd never been in a hotel before. It was scary being in an unfamiliar place, but he didn't think it would be any less scary if Mr. Lowe came back from his job. Is Mr. Lowe killing someone right now? Are they mean people, too? But its not bad to be mean when you're bad…
He nearly peed his pants when he heard the door unlock and Mr. Lowe came in. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping Mr. Lowe wouldn't notice he'd disobeyed. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please don't be mad…I don't want to pee the bed and make you even madder!
But Mr. Lowe noticed anyways.
"You awake, kid? I guess it is 7am, huh." Mr. Lowe said. He heard him open one of the dresser drawers and put something in it. Maybe the gun?
Trembling, he opened his eyes and look at Mr. Lowe. "Y-yes, sir. Yes, dad." It was even worse to ignore adults. Mr. Lowe went to the bathroom and came back out again.
"You can get up if you want. I need at least a few hours sleep though, so make sure you stay quiet whatever you do." Mr. Lowe said. "Don't leave the room and don't answer the door. There's some cereal in the grocery bags under the table, pour yourself a bowl when you're hungry."
"Okay, dad." Harry replied, immediately kicking the covers off and running as fast as he could to the bathroom.
He'd never felt more relieved to be allowed to go to the bathroom! At least in his cupboard, he would be locked in with a bucket to go potty in if he needed to. It so much worse being in a hotel room and told to sleep!
When he was done washing his hands, he went and found the cereal in the grocery bag that Mr. Lowe had told him to eat. He didn't get to eat often, so even if he was too nervous to be hungry he would eat now anyways. Hopefully he could find a plastic baggie to save some of the cereal in the new backpack Odin got him, too.
He found the bowls Mr. Lowe had told him about, but they weren't what he expected. There were lots of thin, fake bowls wrapped in plastic. These are bowls too? Won't it wake him up if I open them? Plastic is loud.
But Mr. Lowe had told him to eat, and he thought it would be worse to disobey him than to wake him up, so he carefully, slowly forced his fingers through the plastic and pried it open, watching Mr. Lowe the whole time to make sure he didn't wake up.
He refilled his water bottle from the tap and poured himself a good amount of cereal into one of the fake paper bowls Mr. Lowe had bought. Less than Dudley ate, because he didn't think he could eat that much, but enough that he would be full for most of the day if Mr. Lowe was too busy to order food.
Now it was time to make himself a baggie of cereal to hide in his backpack just in case Mr. Lowe forgot to feed him or if he got in trouble and wasn't allowed to eat. Is he really asleep yet?
Uncle Vernon snored, didn't Mr. Lowe snore too? But no matter how long he waited in the chair, turned around watching Mr. Lowe, he didn't start snoring loudly like Uncle Vernon did. Maybe he's like Aunt Petunia? She doesn't snore. Is it safe to make a bag of cereal now?
He was so scared he was trembling again. If he wakes up he'll send me away to foster care! I'll have to sleep on the hard floor and they'll never remember to feed me. I don't wanna go to care!
His vision was blurry with unshed tears, so he hurriedly rubbed them away with the palms of his hands. Don't cry. He'll be annoyed if you cry!
His own orders never worked. He was sniffling and quietly crying now. His breathe caught in his chest and he froze, terrified, as he heard Mr. Lowe shift and turn over in his sleep. Oh no!
But he didn't wake up. He let out the breathe he'd been holding and let himself relax, relieved. Safe. I'm safe. No cereal bag today. Maybe tonight when Mr. Lowe leaves for his killing job.
He didn't like that Odin killed people. Wasn't killing bad? Bad guys on Dudley's cartoons and on Uncle Vernon's shows on the telly hurt people. But Mr. Lowe said bad guys and good guys don't exist – its just people making good and bad choices.
Like me choosing to obey him or not obey him?
It was so confusing. What was worse? Uncle Vernon making him sleep forever, killing him, for sneaking out of his cupboard to steal food from the kitchen? Or him sneaking out to steal food from the kitchen? Would Mr. Lowe kill him, too, if he knew he was a thief that stole food? Or if he had peed the bed? Or was that not bad enough? What was bad enough that made punishment be killing, not just days in the cupboard without food?
No, wait. Cupboard was for bad boys like him. Big adults got jail instead. Kids, too, if mum and dad told the cops on them. But Uncle Vernon was nice and never told in him so he'd never had to go to jail before when he got caught stealing food from the kitchen. Jail sounded a lot like foster care.
That still didn't help him understand, though. What did Mr. Lowe think was bad? What was so so so bad that you had to sleep forever and die instead? Was he that bad?
It was a lot to think about. By the time the alarm went off, startling him from his thoughts with a yelp, he still hadn't come to any sort of answer on it, and he was scared Mr. Lowe would see that he'd been thinking about stealing or stuff he should already know the answer to.
Timidly, he watched Mr. Lowe turn the alarm off and get out bed, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He looks really tired.
"Morning, son." Mr. Lowe said, looking at him still sitting at the table.
"Good morning, dad." He said, subdued.
Mr. Lowe got up, grabbed a new water bottle from the giant pack sitting on the floor, and came over to sit down in the other chair.
"You eat already?" he asked, pouring himself his own breakfast.
"Yes, I did dad." He replied.
"Okay." He replied. It was quiet, then Mr. Lowe remembered something. "Oh! I changed your name and birthday already. Your new name is Holden Odin Lowe, born August 1st, AC 180. As much as I think Harrison or Harold would suit you, I can't just keep calling you Harry for short."
"Yes, sir." He wondered why, but he didn't think he should ask even if he was allowed to ask questions now. It just seemed like one of those things he got in trouble for cause he was supposed to already know. "Holden. I'm…Holden. My name's Holden. Holden Lowe."
Mr. Lowe grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the stack of random stuff in the far corner of the table behind his closed laptop. "Here. I'm gonna write your new name on here and I want you to practice writing it, okay? Say it out loud as you write it. I need you to memorize this before we leave town tomorrow. Tonight's my last job here."
He worked, obediently, all morning long writing his new name, and then later his new birthday, while Mr. Lowe worked on something called bombs. They were small, about the size of Uncle Vernon's work tablet, and he had to get lots of them ready for tonight's job. Am I gonna learn how to do that, too?
He started getting hungry a while into it, but he knew better than to ask for food. If Mr. Lowe wanted him to eat, he would feed him or tell him to get something specific to eat. To do anything else was stealing, and he was scared to steal from Mr. Lowe. He had to be good and keep him happy. He didn't want to see that scary face from when he knocked down the door to his cupboard ever again. He ignored it and when his stomach started growling, he got more water to drink to fill himself up instead.
He was surprised when, four pages of writing and two glasses of water later, Mr. Lowe spoke up.
"Pizza sound good for lunch, Holden?" he asked.
He was stunned for a moment, and then he couldn't help but grin and beam up at Mr. Lowe. He was being so amazingly nice to him! "Really dad?! Pizza?! Are you sure? I've never had pizza before!"
Mr. Lowe chuckled at him. "I'll order it, then."
A short while later, Mr. Lowe told him to go get changed and wash his hands in the bathroom before they ate cause the food was almost there. "Take your time, no need to rush. I still have to pay the delivery guy."
"Okay, dad!" He chirped, picking out a new green polo shirt and khaki trousers to wear and skipping to the bathroom to change into them. He'd never worn such comfortable clothes before! He was so happy. Mr. Lowe was so nice to him, he didn't want to ruin it. He got to wear the nicest clothes ever and eat pizza just like Dudley!
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken Dudley out to play games and have pizza at Chuck E Cheese for his birthday this past summer but he'd been left behind at Mrs. Figg's. He loved getting to eat as much as he wanted of a hot meal, and getting to have chocolate cake even if it tasted like it went bad months ago, even if her endless cat stories and cat photo albums put him to sleep. He had felt bad; here was someone who liked him and wanted to spend time with him, and there he was going to sleep sitting beside her! Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were right, he was ungrateful.
Mr. Lowe knocked on the door when the pizza was ready. "Food's here, Holden!"
"Okay, dad!" He called, hopping off the toilet where he'd been waiting. He hadn't even played with the soapy water he was so excited!
"Pizza, pizza, pizza!" He exclaimed, bouncing in his chair excitedly as Mr. Lowe put a slice of pizza on his plate. "Thank you, dad!"
Mr. Lowe smiled at him, and for the first time since he'd met him he thought he looked happy. "Your welcome, Holden. You can have as many as you want. Eat until your full."
He picked up the pizza and yelped with pain as it burned his hand. "Ow! Owie that hurt."
He blew on his food to cool it off until finally he was able to pick it up without getting burned again and took the biggest bite he could.
Delicious, gooey, tomato-ey, cheesy goodness with pepperoni on top that just made him crow with happiness. "Yuuuuum! Yummy yummy this is so good!"
He ate quickly, not wanting to stop because it was so good and he'd never had pizza before and it was so delicious. Plus Mr. Lowe was letting him eat and he didn't know if he'd be bad tomorrow and not be allowed to eat. He ate three whole slices in quick succession before his stomach started hurting and he had to stop cause he felt sick.
He tried not to hold his tummy or look sad or anything but Mr. Lowe noticed anyways. "Stuffed, huh? That's what happens when you overeat. Throw your plate and bowls away."
He grabbed all of his dishes from today and threw them away in the trash before returning to stand near Mr. Lowe, waiting for directions as he threw away his own dishes and put the big empty pizza box by the trash can.
"Come sit down, Holden. We need to talk." He came and sat down by Mr. Lowe. "We're going to pack up and check out of this hotel at 10am tomorrow. That gives me time to come back and sleep a bit before we leave. After that we're going to take the bus to the airport where we'll take a shuttle home. I live up in the colonies in the L1 colony cluster. I'll take you home and we can get started training you. Remember, we're pretending to be father and son, okay? I'm your dad and you're my son. Your name's Holden Lowe, you're four, and your birthday is August 1st. If anyone asks questions, just let me answer them. I'll do the talking. Understand so far?"
He nodded. "Yes, sir." He was scared. He'd never been to the airport before, or space. It looked so endless on the telly, like it would swallow him up whole.
"Don't say anything about my job, okay? I used to be a soldier for the Alliance. I retired. That's a fact. If anyone asks, I'm going to lie and tell them our pretend story. I'm going to tell them I went to visit London and do some sight-seeing with my son. Okay? Can you remember that?"
He gulped, nervous, but nodded anyways. He had to! "Yes, sir. I'll remember, I promise!"
"Alright. If anyone tries to talk to you, what do you do?"
"I let you talk!" he replied.
"Right. What are other people supposed to think we were here for?"
"To go to London to see the sights with my dad! You used to be a soldier for the army."
"Right again. Keep that in mind. And if you forget what to say, just stay quiet and don't talk. It'll be easier for me to fill in the details for you than to try to backtrack what you made up on the spot."
Author's Note: Sorry if this wasn't quite up to par. Not sure I like writing from four-year-old Harry's POV. Or maybe I'm just not good at it like this. What do you all think? Do you prefer Odin's or Harry's POV? I think I'll switch back and forth for now. Hopefully i'll get better at it as i write. If you got this far, please leave me a review and let me know what you think!