The Long Process of Boarding

Harry slept with a smile on his face until he heard a ratting at the door like he hadn't heard in the last two years.

"Up!" ordered a female voice. "Get up! Now!"

Harry shot up and quickly slipped into the clothes he left bedside, placing his glasses on the rim of his nose, and slipping the wand into his pocket.

"Are you up?!" the voice demanded.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, begrudgingly.

"It's 5:00, we have hour to wash ourselves up and no time for breakfast before the cars get here," Petunia continued. "Brush your teeth and be thankful you're not cooking breakfast this morning."

The locks on Harry's door were clicked open and Petunia was waiting outside, clad in a hideous mauve sundress with a brown floral print pattern.

Into the room stepped Vernon, who was surprised to see Harry up and ready so quickly. He was wearing a pair of cream-colored shorts and a tacky yellow and white striped knit shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

He eyed the stuffed duffel at Harry's bedside, but Harry eyed Vernon like he were a walking beach umbrella.

"You've packed nothing funny, have you?" He growled.

"No sir," Harry replied, nonchalantly.

Vernon moved uncomfortably close to Harry until he was stuck in the back left corner of the room.

"You better not have," Vernon insisted. "I don't know who this other family is, but they must have a pretty penny to invest in an entrepreneurial resort. They might even be suitable clientele for Grunnings, so no funny business on this trip."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed, using the same tone.

"And one more thing," Vernon added. "You'll be carrying our bags to the car, just as you will with Marge's trunk. It's how you'll be earning your keep for the next few days."

Vernon backed away, still grumbling like a walrus as he waddled back down the hall, the blonde, horse-faced, horse-legged Petunia following behind.

Harry slipped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, shaking his head; he should have known his aunt and uncle would be disappointed that he wouldn't be able to do their chores that weekend.

He stopped in front of the mirror and picked up a red Colgate toothbrush sitting in a disposable white cup on the sink. The logo on the toothbrush was rubbing away and the bristles were spread quite far apart, like it had been used too many times.

But Harry knew better than to ask for a replacement until his aunt and uncle made it happen. He picked up a nearly finished tube of Colgate toothpaste and squeezed out just enough to hopefully make the tube last for the weekend.

Harry brushed his teeth, keeping his eye on the bathroom door in the hopes that Dudley wouldn't show up. Unfortunately, a gorilla-like blonde head poked through the doorway, dressed in the same tacky beach garb as his father.

As he watched his cousin, tears swelled up in his eyes.

"Mum!" Dudley whined. "Why is the freak using the bathroom first?! Shouldn't he be making breakfast?!"

Harry kept brushing in the hopes that Petunia didn't hear, but those were shattered when he heard horse-like footsteps coming up the stairs. When she reached the bathroom, Petunia, wrapped her arms around Dudley's shoulders, leading Harry to cut his brushing short.

"Don't worry, Diddy," she soothed. "I'll have the freak whip up some bacon and eggs, never mind we've got less than an hour before the car arrives."

Harry was feeling rather disgusted with Petunia's indulgence, but held himself back from showing it. This was probably the first time he'd felt a rise in him, but another part of him was thinking of ways to beat the Dursleys to the car.

Harry unrolled some toilet paper from the nearby holder and stuffed it in his pocket before dashing back to his room, closing the door behind him. Dudley and Petunia watched in confusion and turned their heels after. They opened the door to the room, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

Petunia glanced back and forth at both ends of the room, but still could not get a glimpse of Harry. She barged into the room to check under the bed, leaving the door open, probably concerned that the locks would close on her.

But for Harry's sake, it was good she did; before Petunia came in, he backed into the corner by the doorway, so it would cover him up when opened. While hidden, he wrapped up his wand in the toilet paper he amassed from the bathroom. When he'd finished, Petunia exited the room with her arms crossed.

Once she was gone, Harry quickly stepped towards his desk to pick up a few newspaper scraps. These would also be helpful in wrapping up his wand, along with the box it came in. From the desk drawer, he found the box, which he quietly placed the wrapped wand into before packing it into the duffel.

Harry finally zipped the bag and raced down the stairs with it, into the kitchen, where the Dursleys were waiting expectantly.

"Ah, there you are," Petunia sniffed. "We were beginning to worry you were... up to something."

During the last part of that sentence, she glanced over at Vernon, who had another even nastier grin spread from ear to ear.

"Now hurry up," Petunia ordered, clapping her hands twice. "We've only got half an hour before the car gets here."

Begrudgingly, Harry pulled out a frying pan, spatula, and knife, laying them on the counter before removing an egg carton, a wrapped pound of bacon, a stick of butter, and an English muffin from the refrigerator.

Within the next eight to twelve minutes, Harry finished cooking and laid and prepared all three plates while the Dursleys' backs were turned. He laid the on the kitchen table, but as they ate, he scooped whatever bacon and eggs left onto the muffin he'd nicked and made himself a sandwich, cleverly wrapping it in paper towels before turning off the stove and cleaning up.

When the Dursleys finished, Harry quickly went to wash the dishes, hoping the Dursleys wouldn't notice his sandwich. Once he was done washing, the Dursleys were waiting in the living room. With their backs still turned, Harry nicked a zip seal bag from the kitchen closet to put his sandwich into.

Harry slipped the bagged sandwich into his pocket before slipping into the foyer, waiting for the car. The Dursleys didn't seem so mind, since they were able to see him from the living room sofa.

Another fifteen minutes had passed before the doorbell rang and the Dursleys sprang up.

"The car!" Vernon gasped. "You know what to do, boy!"

Harry shrugged and slung his duffel over his shoulder before picking up two of the Dursleys' bags. The Dursleys themselves opened the front door, positioning themselves self-importantly. Outside was a broad-shouldered, flat topped, dark-skinned man in a dark grey suit with a black tie and a pair of Oakley X sunglasses.

"Mr. Potter?" He requested.

"That's me," Harry replied, shyly.

"Kendall Phipps," the man introduced, shaking Harry's hand, gesturing to a nameplate above his left breast. "On behalf of InGen, I'll be taking you and your family to Heathrow..."

"Yes, yes," Vernon interrupted, waving them off. "Now, if you don't mind, we'd like to get going as quickly as possible."

Phipps eyed Vernon up and down, slightly put off by his interruption, before eying Dudley and Petunia, who seemed to be getting behind Vernon. Dudley even appeared to line up well with Vernon due to his physique.

"Very well," Phipps agreed before turning his attention back to Harry. "I'll go load the car..."

"No please," Harry offered, picking up the suitcases. "Permit me."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, but that's what I'm here for," Phipps politely declined.

"No really," Harry insisted, glancing back at his uncle, who watched him expectantly.

"Phipps furrowed his eyebrows at their interaction, but stood his ground without shaking his head.

"Well, if you insist..." he shrugged.

Parked outside was a polished black Rolls-Royce Super Spirit limousine. Harry and Phipps loaded the luggage into the boot before Harry opened the back door for his relatives. Phipps stepped in to do it himself, but Harry waved him off apologetically.

"Fine then," Phipps decided. "But you'll be sitting in the front for all your troubles."

"Oh no sir, I..." Harry pleaded.

"Mr. Potter," Phipps asserted, slowly. "Mr. Hammond arranged all this for you and you specifically."

Phipps coolly climbed into the driver's seat, while Harry shrugged and climbed into shotgun, where Phipps lowered his sunglasses, glancing up and down at Harry's scrawny frame. But Harry was too busy settling in and pulling out his bagged sandwich.

"Do you mind?" he whispered, leaning in.

"Not at all," Phipps permitted, shaking his head.

He started up the car and they were finally on their way. Harry quietly unbagged the sandwich and slowly bit into it to not attract attention from his relatives. Yet it seemed that his relatives heard him;

As they drove, Phipps looked into the rear view mirror and noticed Dudley leaning in fairly close like he was trying to get a look at what Harry was up to.

He opened his mouth, but after a split second, closed it up and shook his head. He'd taken another look in the mirror and Vernon and Petunia appeared to be watching Dudley approvingly.

Phipps kept his mouth shut until they finally pulled up to Terminal Five at Heathrow, where an identical limousine waited up ahead. Harry thought it must have been the other family, especially considering that Phipps appeared to recognize it.

He and Phipps stepped out of the car, opening the door for the Dursleys and unloading the luggage, hauling it over to an outdoor checkstand, where another family was waiting; a young girl, a man, and a woman, possibly her parents.

They were accompanied by a light-skinned man in a matching suit, tie, and sunglasses, with cropped hair, whose nameplate read Kelvyn Fobbs.

They were waiting at the counter, but Harry was focused on the girl, right in front of him; she was about his size with a thick mop of bushy brown hair. He was only looking at her from the back, but she looked unsurprisingly familiar. Harry shook his head, doubting he was that lucky until the girl turned around to face him directly.

"Harry!" A familiar voice cried.

Harry, indeed, saw before him the face of his friend, Hermione Granger. She quickly wrapped her arms around her friend in a tight hug, as only she and Mrs. Weasley could provide.

"Hi... Hermione," Harry gasped.

Harry regained his composure when Hermione released him.

"It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed.

"It's great to see you too," he breathed out. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going on holiday with my parents," she explained. "We're going to Costa Rica."

"Me too," Harry replied. "What for?"

"Mum and Dad received a letter from a Mr. Hammond, who's opening an island park off the west coast," Hermione explained. "We've been invited to go and see it since they invested in his company years ago."

Harry stopped to puzzle before reaching into his other pocket, pulling out the letter. That was one thing Uncle Vernon hadn't snatched from him when he took the tickets.

"Does your letter look like mine?" Harry asked, holding it up.

Hermione's eyes lit up as she saw the distinctive InGen logo in the header.

"Yes!" she replied.

Hermione took the letter from Harry and quickly, but thoroughly, ran her eyes across it, eliciting an uncharacteristically excited squeal.

"So this means our families are going to Hammond's park together!" she realized. "Wait until I tell Mum and Dad! Which reminds me... you haven't met them properly yet."

Hermione dragged Harry in the direction of her parents, who were just finishing their check-in.

"Mum! Dad!" she cried. "Look who else is coming on the trip!"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger turned around and were surprised to see Harry with their daughter. Mr. Granger was, physically, in much better shape than Vernon, with graying chestnut hair, a pointed nose, and his daughter's brown eyes. Mrs. Granger was, herself, a healthy looking woman with her daughter's bushy brown hair.

"It's Harry," Hermione reminded them. "Harry Potter."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger's faces lit up the same way their daughter's had, as if they were seeing an old friend.

"So this is the famous Harry Potter," Mr. Granger joked, holding out his hand.

"Oh Paul," Mrs. Granger laughed, taking Harry's hand. "A pleasure to meet you Harry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Harry stammered.

"Please, call me Jane," she insisted. "Hermione's told us all about you, of course."

Paul chucked. "Are you kidding? For the last two years, it's been nothing but letters from our daughter going on and on about this really nice boy named Harry Potter... except of course, that one letter we received in the last month. Quite strange, seeing that we hadn't gotten any mail from our daughter since March..."

"Oh Paul, come off it!" Jane insisted. "We're going on holiday; we can discuss school-related issues after. For now, we'd like to meet Harry's family. Who are your parents, Harry?"

Now, Hermione shot a look of concern at Harry, having not told her parents of his situation yet. She wrapped her right arm around his shoulders and patted him with her left hand.

"My parents are dead," Harry replied, looking down. "I'm the only one left."

"Oh..." Jane gasped. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"I never knew them," Harry furthered. "They died when I was a baby."

"But then..." Paul interrupted. "Who's been looking after you all these years?"

"My aunt and uncle," Harry replied. "Mr. Hammond saw fit to invite them too."

"Boy!" interrupted the voice of Uncle Vernon. "Have you been fraternizing with this perfectly sweet normal girl?"

Horse-legged Petunia stepped to Vernon's right and Gorilla headed Dudley to Vernon's left, pulling out his readied fist.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley," Harry introduced, nervously. "This is my friend, Hermione Granger, from Hogwarts."

Petunia blanched at the mention of the school, while Vernon pulled Harry aside without shaking hands with Hermione's parents.

"You mean to tell me this other family is just another bunch of those freaks you associate with!?" Vernon whispered.

"No, her parents are Muggles, just like you," Harry insultedly replied. "My mum was born to Muggle parents too, remember?"

"Vernon grunted again as he forced his hand back on Harry's shoulder and pushed him back into the line.

"Was something wrong, Harry?" she asked. "What did he say?"

"You don't want to know," He insisted.

Paul and Jane glanced at each other, looking both confused and insulted at the same time. They switched their gaze to their daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the counter, where their luggage awaited behind.

"Come on darling, we're finished." Jane whispered.

Harry and the Dursleys moved up to the counter so they could check their luggage in. Vernon and Petunia glanced expectantly at Dudley, who smiled with gleeful anticipation at the luggage gathered in front of him.

You know what that means, freak," Dudley exclaimed both gleefully and stupidly.

Dudley knocked the luggage over as Vernon motioned for Harry to bring it to the counter. Harry kept his mouth closed at the prospect of having to carry three hideous, heavy suitcases; one with a mauve and green floral pattern, the other two in mustard yellow with rust colored tattersall stripes.

Harry's duffel was still slung over his shoulder; it was smaller than the others, so it wouldn't be checked in. Vernon waddled up to present the tickets and get luggage tags printed, ignoring the narrowed eyes of the clerk.

On the left, Harry saw Phipps watching him struggling with the luggage and Vernon doing the cushy part. Phipps even shook Fobbs' shoulder so he could have a look for himself.

Harry was uncomfortable with this type of goggling out in public, having received it upon entering the Wizarding World and starting Hogwarts.

Phipps and Fobbs were muttering inaudibly before Phipps pulled out a brick-like hunk of plastic in the shape of a phone receiver. He pulled up an antenna, dialed a number, and listened for a ring.

As Phipps waited with the device to his ear, Vernon handed Harry his ticket and passport before pushing him forward.

"Come along, boy," he growled. "And don't you lose that passport; It's bad enough we had to pay for it, much less to avert onlookers."

Harry and the Durlseys followed the Grangers through a pair of automatic sliding doors, into their airport, towards a rather long security line. Vernon stood right behind Harry, who was right behind the Grangers.

"Bloody Americans," Vernon grumbled. "Always reproducing too much."

The Grangers turned their heads over their shoulders, barely hearing over all the airport chatter, along with Phipps and Fobbs, who were waiting right behind.

Up ahead, as Harry was to pass through security, he elicited another furrowed expression from the agent checking his passport.

Harry's photo was rather crude, as if it were just taken in front of a wrinkled bedsheet. It seemed Vernon and Petunia thought if it was white, it made a suitable enough background.

Still, the agent raised an eyebrow when the Dursleys passed through with ordinary, well-lit backdrops in their photos.

Fortunately, when passing through the metal detector, Harry wasn't wasn't stopped for anything; not even the box containing his wand.

With some time left before boarding, the families and drivers sat in their gate's waiting area. Seated in a row opposite the Grangers, the Dursleys kept a sharp eye on Harry. Hermione took him by the hand to sit with her, but still they remained quiet.

Harry sighed in relief, but even this attracted the attention of the drivers. Fobbs was taking notes on a small pad he'd pulled from his breast pocket, but the Grangers eyed Harry concernedly.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Oh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Harry muttered, snapping out of his daze.

"I'll sit with you on the plane," she offered.

"Thanks," Harry shrugged.

"Flight 1007, Nonstop to Dallas, Now Boarding at Gate 35," spoke the voice over the airport intercom.

As everyone lined up at the gate, Harry was able to present his boarding pass without raising suspicion. The group boarded a Boening 777, where they found themselves taking up the seventh row;

Paul and Jane in left hand section with Fobbs, the Dursleys in the center section, and Harry and Hermione in the right hand section with Phipps.

As Harry made himself comfortable, Hermione gripped his hand tightly, both knowing that the next ten hours and ten minutes to Dallas were going to be very quiet.