Part two of our three-part update extravaganza!
This one took me forever- you'll see why. A whole lot gets done though, and we finally get actual dialogue from our main character.
Harry spent the week making similar outings. He'd tag along with Sam and Mikaela and whatever toy they were cleared to bring to the base, usually balls and frisbees and the like. Sometimes Ratchet would join them, and Jazz followed curiously after them once, but he was mostly left under Ironhide and Bumblebee's watch.
Optimus greatly approved of Harry's trips and whenever Bumblebee wasn't needed for anything and the temperature was high enough outside, he was sending gentle hints that Harry should be escorted to the foot of the mountain for wing training and playtime. Harry suspected it might have something to do with his antisocial behavior in the hangar.
Though he loved to cuddle up with Ratchet and Jazz was reading every other chapter of his books with him, most of his free time was taken up watching the tele. Frenzy was great at sneaking in messages right under the Autobots' radars with innocent programming and subtitles italicized whenever Harry needed to take notice.
It didn't make for good conversation, but Harry knew the deadline was coming up and everything was running smoothly. He was thrilled to be a part of the plan, to be a reliable player in Lord Megatron's scheme. With the appropriate Decepticons all carefully positioned and lying in wait, there was only a few more days to ensure Ironhide's guard would be as lowered as possible while supervising Harry.
With nothing else to do in the meantime, Harry had improved upon himself in leaps and bounds. He'd just about mastered all the positions Ironhide knew about and could hold his total wind-resistance position under a full blast of wind for a solid minute before the strain grew too much. Ratchet hadn't approved him for gliding yet, but the worried glint in his optics told Harry he was probably close.
His language was a little slower, he certainly hadn't returned to his previous fluency, but the humans could understand him most of the time and were making an effort to speak to him. Once he'd stopped sounding so much like a fax machine than a lispy toddler, even some of the soldiers had made attempts to interact with him.
"Go long, Harry!" Today for example, it was Lennox on his lunch break who had chosen to go with him and his customary escort to play ball, this time with a football he'd swiped from the barracks.
"Gottit!" Harry cried, running past Ironhide with his optics trained on the ball spiralling for the ground.
He had to duck to catch it and left a long scrape down its nose on accident, but Harry let out a whoop when he saved it from the ground.
"Nice catch!" Cheered Bumblebee and Harry was in too good a mood not to grin at him, even if nobody could see it.
"Throw it here," Major Chen waved his arms out, neck flushed with the heat but much more conditioned for the desert in comparison to the teenagers. Chen and Harry hadn't interacted until that day, but he came across Harry's patch of shade looking for Lennox and was good-natured enough to join in.
Feeling playful, Harry arced the ball high in Chen's direction, making the game more taxing on the composed soldier. With Lennox already breathing hard, it was only fair.
In a prim, practiced form, Chen sprinted after the ball and caught it without leaping. He tucked the football under his arm and jogged back with a smug look on his face.
"Nice try, Harry," He huffed, and then sent the football flying over Lennox's head without warning.
"Hey!" The man yelped indignantly, and went chasing after it himself, tripping over a rock in his scramble.
It wasn't to be. For the first time in fifteen minutes, the football struck the ground.
Lennox growled as he scooped it up, dropping sand all down his front, "Damn it, Major."
"Language," Ironhide said, visibly startling Chen who hopped back a few steps from the black truck.
Lennox was less affected, merely shooting Harry a contrite look, "Right. Sorry, Harry."
"'Sssokay, passss!" Harry waved off, Jazz cursed far more often than Lennox and he'd much rather be chasing the ball right then.
Lennox wasn't too apologetic, though, because he made the next throw even harder. Faster, with a mean spin to keep it that way. Harry dug his peds into the sand and dashed after the rapidly dropping ball.
He only managed to touch it with a servo before it tunneled into thick brush, sending a lizard skittering for cover as Harry barrelled after it. Dry thistle and tumbleweeds smacked into his face plates, they scratched against his arms as he pulled away, leaving streaks of silver from where they knocked the staining dust aside.
When he made his way back to the group, Chen was chuckling merrily.
"Right? Every time I wondered what aliens might be like, I pictured more Star Trek and less Marvin the Martian."
"I think only the Decepticons have proper names, shit like Megatron and Starscream is pretty out there."
"Aw, that's not true. What about Optimus Prime?" Was Chen's retort as Harry came to a complete stop.
"What?" He asked, tilting his head at the two.
"Oh, nothing. It's just that you guys have much more...Earthly names then you'd might expect from an alien race," Lennox explained, "especially you."
Chen laughed again, "I've got a subordinate named Harry who's none too pleased about it, the others have started calling him Human Harry just to rile him up."
Lennox rolled his eyes, "It's like there's a boot camp specifically for turning soldiers into middle schoolers, I swear."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his dirty peds as a cold stone solidified in his abdomen.
"'S weeerd, huh. My name and my look." He stared harder at his silvery metal peds, tipped with ten sharp claws and filled with tubes and wires.
"I mean a little," Chen shrugged, "No one thinks an alien kid is going to have the same name as British royalty, but it's not like I can judge. Tim Chen is kind of weird too."
Lennox snorted, "Count your blessings, Chen. You were a hair away from being Major Tom."
"Like I haven't heard that before- oh," Chen cut himself off, peering up at the sky with a hand shading his eyes.
A military plane cruised directly overhead, carving through clouds with a thunderous roar. They flew by every day at the exact same time, the chime of a tremendous skybound clock to count the hours.
"That's the afternoon patrol, break over." Chen sighed, dropping his hand to bat at his dusty uniform.
"Prime says he's made some headway in negotiations while you were gone," Ironhide told the two soldiers, and they both adopted twin looks of exasperation.
Lennox didn't bother trying to dust himself off, swiping sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes as he turned to look toward the main headquarters. "Straight back into the lion's den."
"Aw, Jacobs isn't so bad. You'll be fine," Chen assured with a rough slap to the back.
Leaving Lennox to his retreat back to camp, he trotted over to where Harry was hanging back.
"If you don't give me the ball back, I can't promise my men won't attempt a raid to retrieve it."
Harry squeaked, realizing he was still clutching onto the football. He shoved it out in front of him, embarrassed. "Sssoh-ree!"
Chen carefully took it from his claw-tipped servos and jammed it under one arm, "No problem, just thought I'd save us the intergalactic incident."
"Much appreciated," Ironhide rolled forward at a leisurely rate, "Autobots abhor senseless loss of life, you know."
Chen laughed a little too high and took several steps back, "Right, that's my queue to go then. Good game, Harry."
The major only took his eyes off of Ironhide once he'd cleared his first dune and then his back was to them both as he briskly crossed the desert to his military base, football still in his grasp.
Once the two soldiers were well on their way to the main entrance, Ironhide let loose his chuffing laughter, "Humans," He sighed, "way too easy."
"Meeean," Harry accused, watching as they shrank in the distance. A few guards stepped out to greet the majors and with his greatly enhanced, vision, he could spy Chen tossing the ball at one of the soldiers checking in.
"It's my job to be a little mean to humans, I've got to make sure they respect me," Ironhide protested. His gravelly English accent couldn't sound innocent no matter how he tried, much too proud of himself to even pretend otherwise.
He gave up the charade almost immediately, it didn't suit his personality to play dumb, "We can keep this between us, though. Prime doesn't have to know every little thing, right?"
Harry giggled and made a show of mulling about, grasping his chin and peering thoughtfully up at the sky.
Ironhide wouldn't beg, but he did roll forward until Harry was in the sliver of shadow available with the sun hanging directly above them. He seemed to believe this would soften Harry up, which it really shouldn't.
"Fwhine," Harry vented reassuringly, -I won't report this to Optimus during our next meeting.-
"So generous," Ironhide inched forward until his grill was pressed against Harry's front, then he rested there, as though all he needed was to touch him.
Harry absently stroked along the false-chrome, drawing circles in the dust with his digits, "Ironhide?"
He was best at names, all the Autobots were so excited when he practiced them it was one of the very first things he'd fairly mastered with his vocal processor.
"Yes, little one?"
"Harry issa weeeird name fwhor a robot."
There was a thoughtful pause, Ironhide didn't speak for a while, though he kept pressed up against Harry's touch. Harry kept his optics downcaste, his circles evolving into more elaborate spirals as time crept on.
"You shouldn't take what they said too seriously," Ironhide finally said, "It doesn't matter what your designation is, Jazz changes his every now and then and right now his is just as human as yours is now."
Harry shook his head, "No, Harry isss more human, isss fwhor a human boy. Jazz isssa thing, like Ratchet."
He swallowed, the components of his throat clicking with the movement, "I'm not a human boy anymore."
Ironhide pulled back then, steady so not to startle Harry as he reversed a few feet and then switched to his bipedal form in a cacophony of clangs and switches. In a few seconds, the trillions of tiny parts that made up Ironhide shuffled about until he was kneeling in the sand. His angular blue optics were narrowed, honed on Harry.
"You're not, you're a sparkling now," He agreed, dropping his servo flat against the ground in a silent invitation.
Harry really was trying not to let that fact hurt him anymore, the rush of anxiety that flooded his processors shouldn't be there after so long. He didn't feel so wrong in his body, was it so big a deal to accept that he was stuck this way forever? Resentment kindled for just a second for the Allspark embedded in his spark.
But he didn't want to think about those things, they were too heavy and strange even now. He crawled into Ironhide's palm and allowed the mech to raise him to his pauldon, shielded from the sunlight of course.
The breeze was stronger so high up, so Harry was quick to hop to the crook of Ironhide's neck and latch on, vents opened and wings folded in tight. Ironhide rumbled happily, chin gently brushing over the top of Harry's helm.
"No one thinks any less of you for keeping your old name," Ironhide continued, a touch darker, "And if some worthless scrapheap tries to give you a hard time I'd mash em into a fine paste, you don't need to worry that a human name makes you strange"
"But it doesss, it isssstrange," Harry insisted, "Harry the human-" -doesn't exist anymore.-
Ironhide hummed in agreement, "Do you want to change it, then? Get a designation for Harry the sparkling?"
A sparkling name, Harry deactivated his optics. An alien, cybertronian name fit for a creature millions of miles from Earth. Was he so different that kind of name would suit him better?
His wings fluttered guiltily, his name is one the last thing he still has of his parents. Even his looks are gone, no messy hair or green eyes that could've ever made him part of a family set- even a broken one. Could he really discard that name so easily?
Harry James Potter, it hadn't meant all that much to him before, hardly anyone called him by it. The teachers would call him you, or Potter. The Dursleys would call him freak or boy. But it was suddenly a bit precious now, in danger of being truly forgotten.
"You don't have to decide now, you've got plenty of time." Ironhide said then.
Harry reactivated his optics, shuttering them up at the weapons specialist, "What would you call me?"
He didn't even know what name he'd be trading his in for. Perhaps he could find one with meaning, one that made him feel less like he was scooping out the final piece of himself the Allspark hadn't quite managed to reach.
"Tell you what," Ironhide reached up to stroke along his back, almost ghosting over his plating, the touch was so painstakingly careful, "I can give you some designations to choose from, a few times a day even and if one pops out at you, let me know. If not, there's no harm in staying Harry the sparkling."
Harry liked the plan, it was slow and gave him time to really contemplate the change. If he really didn't like them, he trusted that Ironhide wouldn't let anyone poke fun at his name, even if it was silly for a robot to have.
"Thank you," He chirped gratefully, nestling against the junction between Ironhide's neck and pauldrons. He had a few hours left before it was time to go back to the hangar and got comfy for the weight.
Bumblebee, in a rare instance of doing what Harry wanted, drove away, then. He was headed back for the base, probably bored now that the games were over. His departure brought about privacy that Harry greatly appreciated while Ironhide drummed up some designations Harry could use.
"Let's see, these are just shots in the dark so stop me if you like something- Ironwing, Silverhide, Ironside, Ironfist, Falco, Steelhide, Skyhide, Turbohide, Roadbuster, Chromehide, Ironjet…"
For random, passing ideas, Harry found all of Ironhide's suggestions to be suspiciously similar in one, glaringly obvious way.
"Heard ya picking out a new designation fo' yo-self," Jazz brought up casually that night, propped next to Harry's cot.
"Ifwh I like it," Harry agreed, cautiously putting his book down to take in those wide optics staring down at him like spotlights.
"Harry ain't bad at all," he reassured right off the bat, so quick to put Harry at ease.
"It don't have ta please everyone, I jus' really liked human music an' made the switch. If it makes ya happy, it should be enough."
Harry stared down at his book, stroking over the pages thoughtfully. In a way, he was emulating Jazz's confident initiative. He wanted to hear a name that so encapsulated his interests and personality that there was no question it belonged to him. Jazz fit his name, cool and comfortable in his own skin. But Harry…
"The one who wasss named Harry, isssn't me now," Harry struggled to communicate how he felt about his name, "My parentssss named a human boy." The boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs, who wore hand-me-downs and wished desperately to be taken away from Surrey. Who had a neat scar and knobbly knees and who was vaporized before the Allspark.
"I see what ya mean, though, lil' bot." Jazz bobbed his helm sagely, but he didn't expand on that.
Instead, he squatted beside Harry's ring of heaters and made himself comfortable, "Wanna go through some ideas I had fer ya?"
Harry had been more interested in continuing his book, but he couldn't deny the curiosity he felt at the prospect of being named by Jazz. What odd, erratic names could he come up with?
He nodded and folded his page to hold his place so he could tuck the book away for later.
Jazz waited until he was back in place on his cot, digits drumming sporadically against the cement until he was finished. As soon as Harry gave him his full attention, Jazz delivered his own litany of options.
"Dagger, cuz yer sharp an' unpainted. Could mix it up with Daggerwing, Daggerclaw, Daggersweep. Or maybe Riot? Or Beacon with yer chest plate bein' so thin. Flux? Nightlight? Zephyr? How 'bout Redo? Or Monday? Junior? Earthspark? We could use yer roots. Potshot? Hairtrigger? Hoover?" They seemed like names Jazz had put thought into, but to Harry's astonishment, they gushed out of his mouth without pause. An endless river of references and almost-nicknames.
The suggestions only grew more colorful as time went on, bouncing from Earthly sentiments to the color of his optics to his baseball, but none drew his interest. Harry didn't return to his book for a very long time, until Ratchet gently interrupted and rescued Harry from the thoughtful yet unrelenting onslaught.
Harry very deliberately didn't bring up his new name in front of Bumblebee, but he supposed it made sense that his exclusion couldn't last forever.
"Hey, Bumblebee," Jazz greeted happily as soon as he'd rolled into earshot, "Harry here is one tough customer!"
"Or maybe your designations just suck," Ironhide grumped from his slouch by the entrance.
Jazz hissed something too quick and quiet to hear but it pulled Ironhide's brow plating to the very top of his helm. With a cheeky wink, he turned back to Bumblebee's idling alt form.
"Anyway, give me some ideas. What would you call him?"
Harry scowled at Bumblebee's headlights, folding his arms in front of him. He didn't want to be too mean and chase him away but that didn't mean he was happy he'd have to sit through the scout's suggestions too.
Kind Ratchet must have read his posture, for his mimicked it, folding his arms before himself and pinning Bumblebee with an impressive glare of his own. Neither spoke, letting the awkward silence crowding in after Jazz's invitation do the talking for them.
Bumblebee looked impressively uncomfortable for a featureless car. He stalled in place, rumbling motor the only noise for several stretched seconds.
"If you can't think of anything, just suggest Ironwing," Ironhide teased, and that seemed to be the last straw for Bumblebee's nerves.
-Oh look, Sam left his wallet! Better go catch up to him!- Before the transmission was even complete the scout was gone, the smell of burnt rubber and streaking tire marks all that he left behind.
Ironhide shot Harry an exaggerated sneer, "Coward."
Harry giggled, happy to have so cleanly avoided blaring song lyrics and solely Sam-related name suggestions. He'd witnessed Bumblebee attempting to name Sam's new puppy when the teenager has scampered in with pictures and definitely didn't want to end up being named Samantha too. He was also glad to have avoided flatout denying the mech, for all that Harry openly disliked Bumblebee, he had been distraught to find out Sam's mother had promptly declared Samantha a Frankie upon his return home.
Several hours later, Bumblebee finally returned from his mission to reunite Sam with his wallet. Coincidentally, his reentrance was accompanied by Optimus Prime, who immediately summoned Ironhide and Jazz over for a nightly debriefing.
"Maybe that gearhead has a few working circuits after all," Ratchet mused under his breath.
"What?" Harry looked up from his book, nearly finished now.
Ratchet stretched to his peds, optics trained on his unit gathering in the corner furthest from military personnel, "Hm, nothing. I'll return shortly."
Ratchet joined the ring of mechs and Harry went back to his book, eagerly flipping the page. Would the poor mother mouse's home get moved in time?
"Don't you hawe sssu- ssssuggesssstionsss, Ratchet?" Harry asked the following morning.
Jazz had left with Optimus earlier and Bumblebee had gone with Sam and Mikaeala somewhere in the city, so Harry busied himself over one of the puzzles he had yet to open.
Ratchet had joined him, though his digits were far too large to handle any fragile puzzle pieces. He mostly helped by suggesting pieces indicated through his wrist device-turned laser pointer and the time ticked by in easy measurements. Curiously, he had yet to bring up Harry's search for a proper robot name. In fact, he'd hardly spoken at all since Harry had brought it up.
"What was that?" Ratchet hunched closer from his position sat cross-legged on the floor right behind the heaters.
"You hawen't tried naming me. Do you not want to?" Harry plucked the corner piece Ratchet had found and connected it to the two nearly complete sides he already had with a chirp of victory. The frame was almost finished, then he'd fill in the middle.
But first, he was interested to know why the mech he'd expected would be most involved, didn't even seem to notice the others coming up with name after name.
"Oh, that."
The dark gloom that Harry took pride in chasing away swam back full-force in Ratchet's murky gaze, too ancient to be true grief but too potent for mere melancholy. The mech was no longer looking directly at him, optics skating off his helm to fixate on the puzzle pieces instead.
"I...was a first officer in the Science Division, on Cybertron," Ratchet murmured, "It was an important position, gave me prestige. I treated a lot of high class Cybetronians and they'd ask specifically for me. Especially with things as important as sparkling inspections."
Pain, so much pain in his voice, though it never wavered. Harry abandoned the puzzle to touch Ratchet, place his servo over Ratchet's ped and croon comfortingly up at him. He hadn't meant to hurt Ratchet with his question.
"The others weren't often around sparklings, Ironhide watched a few for friends, Jazz took on some apprentices, Prime would be presented with them in the most ridiculous fashion," a weak chuckle, "but they weren't there when those sparklings were brand new."
"Giving a designation, it meant the world to their parental units. Imprinting, their faces were...indescribable. And they'd have their first interaction, give them their first foreign coding. And that perfect designation they'd been thinking of for orns, even if the sparkling didn't use it forever, it was a promise- almost sacred. A promise to Cybetron, to make their child a vital member of our people, with gifts and talents for the benefit of us all. A promise to the child, to have the very best possible chance to achieve that goal."
Ratchet waved over to Ironhide, who had been utterly silent so far, faceplates stony as he watched them both. "Ironhide's carrier knew he'd be an impressive warrior, his designation was a promise for a strong defender."
Ironhide didn't react to this generous praise, unwavering in his regard, almost unfriendly in his chilled demeanor. Ratchet moved on without hesitation, though, so Harry pulled his attention back to the medic.
"My designation, Ratchet, promises an important component to our planet, a mechanism for building and fixing."
It was spoken softly, a glimmer of pride like soft dawn rays peeking out over a somber night sky. Harry thought he understood what Ratchet was telling him then, in the way his optics trailed up to the ceiling of the hangar, as though he could look past it and see Cybertron.
"You deserve one that suits you. But I don't want to deprive you of that promise. You shouldn't have to pick out your own designation like it's a pretty stripe of paint, you should be given one by someone who understands who you are and what it means to be your parental unit."
What it means to be his parental unit...He didn't have one, though. He'd lost his parents before he could even remember them, so how could he know is someone suitable came along? Who would even want to be his parent?
Lord Megatron came to mind, but he was Harry's guardian. Could that be the same thing?
"Would you rather Megatron give him one, then?" Ironhide interrupted.
Harry flinched away, optics wide. How had he known what Harry had been thinking?
"Don't be ridiculous. I just don't think he should rush into this," Ratchet snapped back, sharply contrasting with the soft way he ever so gently lifted Harry and placed him back before his puzzle. Had he mistaken Harry's flinch for a shiver?
A thumb smoothed over his helm before Ratchet went back to glaring at the weapons specialist standing guard by the entrance.
Ironhide drew himself up, "It's his decision, Ratchet, and he asked us for designations to choose from."
"And it should be our duty to explain to him the full ramifications of his choice!" The darkness in Ratchet's stare was steadily conquering every plate on his face, shrouding him in bleak shadows.
Ironhide laughed joylessly, "What ramifications? What promise is there to make anymore? Cybertron is dead, all that's left of that culture is a couple dozen rusty soldiers who couldn't care less if Harry grows into a proper, citizen-serving Ironwing or other- so long as he survives."
Ratchet surged to his peds far too fast for his size, fluidly stepping away from Harry's nest and toward the black mech. He'd only looked scarier during Harry's discovery, something wild in his optics.
"Don't fight," Harry piped up, weak with disbelief that the two kindest of the Autobots were so quickly coming to blows over his name of all things.
"Relax, little one, we're not fighting," Ratchet hissed without looking back, "we're just getting some things straight."
He reached Ironhide and leaned in fearlessly, "Harry deserves to know about his culture, he deserves to be brought up right. What's the point of us even caring for him if we don't teach him a fragging thing about his heritage? He doesn't get a lesser childhood just because you don't like to think about anything before the war!"
"Don't argue anymore, I'm sorry!" Harry shouted, but his tiny vocal processor would never outmatch Ironhide's. He didn't waste a second before slamming forward, hardly an inch away from Ratchet with a snarl fixed on his face.
"Don't you dare say I don't want the best for Harry, he won't get the lesser of anything. He won't get that picture-perfect upbringing you're deluding yourself with, though. No trips to the capital, no activation celebrations, no city just waiting to hear his designation- so pull your helm out of your aft! He wants a designation, and Primus if giving him one isn't the closest any of us will get to having a sparkling of our own."
"This isn't about you!" Ratchet shoved him back none-too-gently, "He isn't here to make you feel better, you glitch! Either make a call and designate him yourself or allow someone else the honor, don't just throw designation after designation at him like some degrading competition!"
Ironhide knocked Ratchet's servo way, "You're damned right he isn't here for me- or you either! He's a bot with his own coding and if he wants to pick his own name you're not going to shame him into a long dead tradition upheld by no one."
"Thisssshould be m-my choice! You don't getto decide, ssssso sssssstop!" Harry pleaded, retreating to his cot with toy Lord Megatron.
They were both so angry...neither had struck yet, but their scorching fury was that of an erupting volcano, deafening with power that shook the ground.
Harry was ignored, Ratchet let out a bitter curse and Harry didn't want to hear what vicious thing would leap out of the medic next.
He wrapped his arms around his helm since he couldn't cover his ears, and contacted Optimus.
-C-can you please come back to the hangar?-
His response was instantaneous, -Status report. Are you damaged? I'm on my way now.-
-I'm fine,- Harry practically whispered through the transmission, it felt like the words were sticking to his throat, -Ironhide and Ratchet are fighting, they're really really mad and won't stop.-
Ironhide all at once growled low and deep, "Are you fragging with me?" he said accusingly, "You went crying to Prime for help?" He took a menacing step forward, arms raising.
Harry watched in terror, he was going to hurt Ratchet-
"I-I did it!" he squeaked, frame rattling so hard he was at risk of scratching toy Lord Megatron in his vice-like grip.
"It was me!"
It was only then that his voice rang out clear as a bell, a gunshot giving him dead away in the middle of a fight. Harry didn't tuck into a ball but he couldn't keep from cringing.
Ironhide dropped his arms, finally hearing Harry. He glanced down at him, confusion slowly easing the rage that permeated off of him.
"You?" He asked confusedly, "But why-" Ironhide cut himself off, optics suddenly flying wide and bright as he took in Harry's quaking form in the middle of the cot.
"Oh frag."
"Ironhide, Ratchet," Optimus' even-toned voice had never been so cutting before. An unforgiving winter chill that penetrated the entire camp and snuffed their volcanic anger with dangerous ease, "Outside now."
Ironhide and Ratchet seemed stuck in place, horror swamping their faces as they stared down at Harry. Their combined gazes felt like an unbearable weight pressing him down through the bed and into the ground.
He pulled his sheets over his head for the flimsiest of shields, anything to protect himself from their outrage for snitching on them to Optimus Prime.
"H-harry," Ratchet's voice broke, "I-"
"Now." Optimus didn't raise his voice, but there was no escaping the command. Ratchet's mouth clicked shut and the two retreated out of the hangar without another word.
Harry didn't watch them go, he kept his helm safely under the sheet even as he heard another mech step into the room with him.
They approached without a word, until they were right outside his nest, and let out a familiar sigh.
"Status report, little one," Optimus said, an infinite gentleness to him that had been missing entirely just moments before.
-I'm fine.- Harry transmitted.
There was a number of clicks and creaks as Optimus probably kneeled forward, bringing his face closer.
"Would you mind removing the fabric so that I may ascertain for myself?"
Harry wanted to say no, but he also just wanted the day to end. He felt itchy and stressed, and his wings were flat against his back as though to protect themselves from a blow.
There was a patient pause, and then, even softer than before, "Please?"
Harry swallowed past the whimper aching in his chest and peeled back the sheet.
Optimus' somber optics met his own, slow and careful as they roved over his frame before returning. His expression didn't change from its complicated mixture of sadness and warmth and knowing frustration.
-I'm fine,- Harry repeated.
"You were brave, little one," Optimus said, so sadly and sincerely. He was so discomforting to speak with.
"Very brave to ask for my help when they would not listen."
So quick to the point too. Harry felt lanced by the praise, shying away, "I didn't want them to fight, they were going to hurt each other."
Optimus hummed, "My unit is highly trained and capable in battle as well as sparring with each other. Although their actions today were," his tone cooled by several degrees, "inexcusable, it's highly likely they would stop before any actual damage occurred."
Harry wilted, digging his servos into the sheets, "S-sssstill, they were being sssso meeeean. Over nothing, it wasssso fwhasst. They sssshouldn't be allowed to- they're a teeeeam." He protested a little clumsily. Even if they weren't going to really hurt each other, even then it was scary how quickly they lost their tempers.
"It must've been extremely quick and unsettling for you." Optimus agreed, "You should never have witnessed that kind of behavior."
Then, he added, "It wasn't that quick, however. If it comforts you to know. They've been arguing on comm channels to keep it away from you and the humans, tempers have been running short lately."
Harry looked back up, "Then, it wasssn't because ofwh me? They were arguing about my name."
Optimus let out a low coo, slowly lowering a huge servo to hover right before Harry. Harry didn't hesitate, he wanted cuddles and soft warmth again.
He leaned forward and grasped onto a digit, towing it against his chest to hug under the sheets like a teddy bear. It wasn't the perfect temperature, the way Ratchet could warm his servos, but Optimus wasn't nearly as scary that moment and it was more than enough.
"Harry," Optimus continued, something stilted but welcome in his voice, "None of that was your fault, not for a moment. They could've argued over anything but it was their decision to lose control like they did, it wasn't because of you."
"Then why," Harry whispered into his captured digit, pressing his helm against sigil-scored metal.
Ever so softly, the captured servo cupped around Harry and raised him so steadily from the ground it felt like a sheet-cloaked lift taking him up a skyscraper. He pulled his bundled blankets closer about him and didn't relinquish the digit, even as Optimus shifted him into the concave palm of his servo, now at spark-level.
"It's been...taxing, some of the unexpected challenges we've faced since arriving on this planet. Bumblebee and Jazz have adapted admirably. But the others have found stakes in our mission incompatible with how limited our mobility is. Right now we are awaiting reinforcements and tracking down Decepticons, and we've received more than I could've ever asked for," A crooked smile crept over Optimus's mouth plate as he looked down at Harry meaningfully, "If you were to look at this situation from a less positive position, we have an immense amount to lose as well."
Harry broke away from Optimus' gaze, guiltily shifting away from the television set and Frenzy hidden in plain sight.
Ironhide and Ratchet fought like that because they're stressed, Optimus seemed to think some of it was out of concern for Harry. He also didn't think it was because of him, though. So maybe, maybe everything would still be alright after he left?
"They'll get better, right?" He asked, looking back up beseechingly.
Optimus ventilated, smoothing a digit down Harry's back like a pet parakeet, "Don't concern yourself with them, they should be operating optimally now. This is a temporary lapse in judgement, they'll settle soon enough."
Harry leaned into the petting, reassured. They would be okay, even if he left it shouldn't bother them too much. That's good, he didn't want to hurt them. He just wanted to return to Lord Megatron, maybe they'd even understand.
"Where are they?" Was his next question, they couldn't be silently standing outside the hangar. Optimus looked much too comfortable where he was, not a rush in the world.
"My second-in-command is reprimanding them in my stead," The frost was clipping his words again, "I assigned our positions much too quickly, it seems. Ratchet and Ironhide are under the notion they may do whatever they wish in your presence, Jazz will relieve them of that notion."
Harry wanted to be concerned for them, but he also never wanted to see Ironhide and Ratchet screaming like that ever again. Could he hope they weren't being punished too badly while also silently cheering Jazz on?
"Until there is reason to adjust assignments once more, Jazz will be your personal guard and Ratchet will finish negotiations with the humans in my stead. They are near completion so he has little to do besides monitor the proceedings and watch for underground infiltration." Optimus continued, and Harry sprung up, ram-rod straight.
"They're leaving?" He gasped, "But, I don't want them to leave!" No more cuddles from Ratchet? Or lazy afternoons outside with Ironhide? He just wanted them to stop being mean to each other, never to go away!
"I didn't ban them from the hanger, this isn't meant to be a punishment for you," Optimus was quick to correct, bringing Harry up to his pauldrons now.
"But they'll be-"
"No more removed from your life than Jazz and I are on any given day, even less so for Ironhide. You'll have plenty of time with them if you choose to do so," Optimus said, stroking him in broad, smooth motions.
Harry relaxed, Optimus didn't intend to keep either mech from him. Sure, he didn't want to be pet by Ratchet right this minute, but he still cared for him and didn't want to lose even more people in his life.
While Ironhide had also revealed a nasty streak to his personality that day, that wasn't all there was to him and Harry desperately hoped it would stay a rare occurrence if resurfacing ever again. He didn't want to be with bullies, but his days with the Autobots were counting down fast and he wanted to leave appreciating the care they'd given him.
"Thank you," Harry said, craning his head to look Optimus in the eye. He didn't like the mech all that much and he was difficult to be around at times, but Harry had to admit that Optimus really did care. Even if Harry didn't feel they were close, the Autobot leader had dropped everything in mere seconds to whisk Harry away from his troubles and delegate them until not a worry remained.
He'd never had that kind of commitment in his life before, not until the Allspark had changed him.
"Anything," Optimus replied, a look of intensity on his face. Harry scrunched the plating between his optics, he'd gotten it wrong. He was meant to say 'any time'. So awkward, always why was he so awkward compared to his troops?
"What will you do now?" Now that Ratchet had taken over negotiations, was there another project for Optimus to attend to? He came back to the bunker every night to update his unit and rest, but he was usually too busy to be near the hangar at this hour, never mind lounging as he was.
"I'll be handling high priority matters remotely, right now I want to be near you and monitoring interactions between you and the others."
Harry shuttered his optics, pulling back and releasing the digit for his arms to drop at his sides. He looked out toward the hangar entrance, glad he couldn't see Jazz or Ratchet near the opening.
"It'sssalright ifwh they're angry with me," He said softly, "You ssshouldn't punishhh them ifwh they are. I got them in trouble."
Optimus used inhuman precision to hook a digit under his chin and lift it so Harry would meet his gaze again. He skimmed the smooth plating of Harry's cheek with the pad of his digit, so large he could pop Harry's head right off but controlled enough that there was hardly any pressure at all behind the handling.
"I promise you, they won't be angry," Optimus swore solemnly, "You performed admirably, contacting me was the correct thing to do. They may be angry with themselves for putting you in that position, but you have nothing to fear of retribution. If one of my mechs held ill will against you for this, I'd have his Autobot emblem peeled off before your sun had moved a centimeter in your sky."
Harry shut his optics, just feeling the slightly chilled touch of Optimus tracing his face with his servos, drawing miniscule circles under his helm and swiping lines down the back of his head. A thought burst to life as he enjoyed the uniquely sensitive handling, a question under a question.
"Optimus?"
"Yes, little one?" The mech cooed.
Harry, the last hour searing in his processors, still took the plunge, "Would you name me?"
The strokes stopped, "You'd like me to give you a designation?" He sounded oddly breathless.
Harry activated a single optic, narrowing it up at him until the strokes resumed. Only then did he clarify.
"Ifwh I asssked you to designate me, would you?"
"This is what Ironhide and Ratchet were fighting about before," It wasn't a question, so Harry didn't bother to nod. Instead, he tipped his helm to the side so Optimus could pet him just right, pressing in at tight joints around his neck.
Optimus paused for a thoughtful moment, blue optics gloomy like Ratchet, but not nearly so raw with it.
"If you already understood what that means for our people, I would be blessed to give you a designation. I would honor you with one as true to your spark as I could possibly make it," They weren't very formal words, but Optimus had a talent for making any sentence sound ornate.
"What if," Harry squirmed, digging even deeper, "What if I didn't like it and asked for another one?"
Optimus almost laughed, or at least Harry thought so. He chuffed more like, mouth plate twitching before calm sincerity won over.
"I'd be a touch disheartened, I'll admit. I might ask you to think over the designation for a while before rejecting it, but I would do my best to come up with a second designation, just as befitting as the first."
"And if I rejected that one?" Harry asked, and this time Optimus definitely laughed.
"You don't have very much faith in me. If you didn't like either and I was unable to identify a third option just as strong as the other two, I would have to admit defeat. Maybe you weren't meant to be gifted a designation by me at that point."
Still his choice, Harry caught that. Still his to refuse without judgement, without worry that he'd work the mech up by changing his mind. That was good, the claw clenched around his spark loosened its vice, he felt warmer than before despite the coolness of Optimus' servo.
If he had to choose any Autobot to help give him a Cybertronian name, Harry suspects it might just be Optimus Prime of all mechs.
Neither spoke again, content to appreciate the comfort of touch without strings and expectations attached.
A HUMAN DAY OF CELEBRATION IS FAST APPROACHING. THEY WILL BE DISTRACTED. BE PREPARED FOR EXTRACTION ON THAT DAY.
Harry continued watching the animated movie, careful not to react as the subtitles came and went.
The next day was vastly different from the one before.
There was a wary quiet to the air, stifled with unspoken words that hung thick like humidity between the Autobots. Ratchet and Ironhide ghosted into the hangar at midnight looking more like machines than ever and left just as quietly with the first rustle of human activity that morning.
Neither mech had looked at Harry, keeping to the distant walls and corners of the facility like they were avoiding a plague. They only spoke to report under direct prompting and then didn't move for hours on end.
Jazz stood by the entrance like Ironhide usually did, arms folded and optics flat with tightly contained anger. When he read to Harry that night, he kept the sparkling in the cup of both servos and curled his relatively short frame around him like a living shield. However, that uncharacteristic tenderness fell away like a curtain as soon as Harry was tucked back in his cot, Jazz's ire never truly left him.
Optimus and Bumblebee were perhaps the least affected, though that could only be because the Autobot leader was already morose and Bumblebee steered clear of heavier emotions.
With that in mind, Harry was eager to go out with the two mechs and leave the stifling hangar behind for the day. As soon as Mikaela and Sam arrived, a welcome burst of liveliness, they were off.
It was a scorcher that day, or so Harry was told. The soldiers were caked in sun lotion and he could hear the roar of AC from every sunken structure in the courtyard of the base. To Harry, it was a touch warmer than he was used to, but only the point that he would've favored shorts had he a human body to dress.
Mikaela brought with her a rainbow elastic band she called a Chinese jump rope, Sam had a pack of sodas slung over his shoulder and they made themselves comfortable in the shadow of the mountain near the military base. Jazz helpfully parked in the shade to keep his cab cool for breaks while Optimus rolled further out so his height could cast a shadow over them as they set up. Bumblebee transformed to his bipedal set and sat down next to his commander, once he got comfortable he switched on his radio and synth pop started blasting in the emptiness of the Nevada desert. It was surprisingly cozy considering the oppressive atmosphere not a mile away.
"So what's with the change in entourage?" Sam asked casually, swipes of white cream were smeared across his nose and ears and he had a baseball cap jammed on his head.
Jazz answered, "Ratchet an' Ironhide were pulled from their regular duties, right now they inside ensurin' negotiations don't get screwed up."
"Woah," Mikaela looked up from her Chinese jump rope, which she'd been tangling around her fingers to create odd, purposeful patterns across her hands, "They didn't like, hurt anyone, did they?"
"No," Harry said quickly, before anything more than apprehension could flash across their faces, "They didn't hurt anyone. Ironhide and Ratchet got into a fwhight with each other."
Optimus followed his lead, "It didn't come to blows. They just need a reminder of their many privileges, going without for a small period of time will do them good."
"That's what my mom says when she turns off the wifi for a weekend," Sam immediately looked sympathetic for the two missing mechs.
Mikaela wasn't appeased, "But you gave them your job as a punishment? You're not worried they'll mess something up while you're gone?"
"Prime isssalmosst done," Harry said. Jazz had been saying the exact same thing for a week now and Optimus hadn't hesitated to completely abandon discussions so he was pretty sure this was the very end of the process.
"Affirmative, everything will be finalized in a matter of days and then we can start acquiring proper materials for sparkling-grade armor."
Sam shot Harry a grin, "Sweet, man, looks like you'll be getting some new duds to show off. Shame it won't be 'til after the Fourth of July."
"He's a robot, Sam, I don't think he celebrates," Mikaela laughed, "Plus I think he's picking up Ironhide's English accent. They'll probably party on Boxing Day or something."
Harry giggled at the idea that he got his accent from Ironhide, who'd only spoken English within the past six months. Sam scoffed right along with him.
"He's still working on his lisp! Don't be mean! Go on and tell her, Harry, you're a red-blooded American deep in your spark now."
Harry's giggles increased as he shook his helm and was subject to even more outraged spluttering.
"I'm fhw-rom Sssurrey!" He cried, and Mikaela nodded firmly, as though approving his declaration.
"There you have it, he was in the UK before all that Sector Seven shit went down. He and Ironhide won't be celebrating the Fourth of July."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I guess me and Mikaela will be enjoying the fireworks by ourselves. No wonder you got saddled with Harry if you're from that soggy island."
"Ooh, oh, oh oh, not anymore!" Bumblebee's steady pop station abruptly switched to get the humans' attention.
"Not anymore," Mikaela said, frowning thoughtfully back at Harry, "What does that mean?"
Harry glanced at the scout, a little thrown. Bumblebee hadn't engaged at all with his decision to change his name, staying even quieter than Ratchet on the subject. It was silly, but some part of him believed the scout wasn't aware of the issue at all. Was he also against Harry picking a name for himself?
But Mikaela had asked him something.
"I, um, I wanted to change it to sssomething more…" He didn't want to struggle through vocalizing the word Cybertronian, so he just waved vaguely over his frame. They got the message easily enough.
"You were gonna change your name without even telling us? Come on, I wanna hear what we're juggling for 'proper alien robot names'!" Sam pouted at Harry, looking absolutely ridiculous with his sunscreen and curly hair sticking up in cowlicks all around his cap.
Harry...hadn't any real contestants in mind, none of the almost-Ironhide names and quirky-Jazz names had really stood out to him. He wasn't in much of a rush either, since he could just as easily ask Lord Megatron and his followers after the Fourth of July extraction.
He didn't shrug helplessly though, instead, he shot Optimus a considering look. The mech was soft-spoken and always on a different page. Harry still didn't like him all that much, especially after he attacked that poor Decepticon, but…
So far he had been the only one to really concern himself with what Harry would truly be happy with. The others were well-meaning, Harry wasn't bothered that they'd been so excited to give him a name when he'd agreed to suggestions. Still, it meant something that Optimus could find a middle ground between Ironhide and Ratchet's opinions and hadn't yet volunteered himself in their stead.
He was waiting for Harry to ask first.
"Did you hawe sssomething in mind?" He turned to face the Autobot leader head-on.
Harry knew there was no real difference between ten seconds ago and right then, Sam and Mikaela were still mulling about and toying with the Chinese jump rope, Bumblebee and Jazz were quietly listening and enjoying the wide open area, but the space between he and Optimus shifted dramatically.
With a quick intake of oxygen, Optimus Prime switched to his bipedal form near silently. The brush of sand and whirr of motors mute to his auditory receptors as their optics locked together.
Round, awe-struck sapphire stared back into trusting emerald. There was something so old and worn in Optimus' face, and yet so fragile. Thousand-year-old porcelain, full of chips but not yet shattered. If it were more human and less conflicted, Harry might call it happiness.
"I…" He was at a loss for words, "Thank you, little one."
Harry smiled at the Autobot leader, though it couldn't be seen below his mouth plate. Optimus wasn't his favorite Autobot, but he would have to be made of stone not to see how much this meant to him. It would make for a nice goodbye-gift, wouldn't it?
"What do you think my name sssshould be?" He asked with a gentleness of his own.
Optimus didn't lose that startling, half-crumbled vulnerability, but he collected himself anyway. He didn't look away, didn't even shutter his optics, not for a moment. It was as if he were frightened the moment would pass without him if he wasn't clutching on with both servos.
"Right," He said, "Right."
Sam might've mumbled something teasing under his breath then, but it wasn't caught in the charged air surrounding Harry and Optimus.
"Harry, the Allspark robbed you of something great that day," Optimus began, as solemn as ever.
"You didn't deserve it, but I admit, I can only be grateful that it happened. The moment your spark beat its first you were priceless. A new hope, a bright light in the darkness we've cast over ourselves."
He was going to take this longer and grander than Harry had expected, embarrassment kept his wings rigid in the breeze as Optimus continued, dripping with worshipful sincerity.
"Not only for what you are but who you are. You're kind, even to those you dislike. Yet brave enough to challenge perceived wrongs."
Was he praising Harry's antagonistic behavior toward him?
"There's a fire in you that deserves to be stoked. You deserve all our people had to offer you in our golden age, and I'm confident you are one we need more than ever in our darkest hour. In due time, you will be a noble warrior Cybertron will be proud to rally behind."
If Harry were human, he'd be bright red by now. Bashfulness smothered him into silence even as he couldn't be the first to tear his optics away from the ancient Autobot leader praising him so highly for virtually nothing.
"You're not just of Cybertron, though. You were sparked here on Earth and if you'd permit me, your designation should honor that. The humans have a proverb to be told in low times, promising a hope even in the bleakest of moments. I admire the sentiment and I can think of nothing more fitting of your spirit."
Optimus' voice wasn't raising, but a swell seemed to fill the air as Harry stared up at the mech, transfixed.
"Every cloud has a silver lining. This being a reference to the light of Earth's sun shining through even the thickest storm clouds, a beautiful phenomenon. I would call you Silverline in its image, if you accept it."
It settled over him like a magic spell.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
It was strange, sounded a bit like a metro trolley if he were honest.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
It was Earthly, but not a human name. Meaningful, pretty in a way. Not a claim or an attempt to diverge from norms, a true, different name. One for a different creature from Harry Potter. A different future to reach for, different roots to invoke, Harry thought it stood on its own.
Silverline, Silverline, Silverline.
He liked it, the longer he mulled it over in his processors the more he liked it.
Harry would never be forgotten, he'd spent eleven years as Harry Potter. He wouldn't forget that Harry had parents who were dead, James and Lily Potter. He'd had relatives who hated him, Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley. He'd had a cupboard to sleep in, ratty trainers, specky glasses, and wild black hair.
He hadn't been happy as Harry Potter, but it had meant something. He hadn't made much of an impact on the world around him, but people and stepped in and out of his life and it had meant something.
Harry Potter had dreamed of being whisked away by a new family.
Silverline was orchestrating his own rescue to reunite with his guardian Lord Megatron. A natural progression to the story, if Harry looked at it a certain way.
If Silverline looked at it a certain way.
A burst of coding swam across his vision, blinding digits blurring overhead as boxes popped in and out of existence crunching and computing exactly what Harry wanted. He didn't know how he knew, but when he carefully input Optimus' name in the designation inquiry, he knew what would happen next.
Vertigo flushed through his systems, the world blackened for a second and he slipped to his knees in the next moment.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Mikaela asked in his crackling audio receptors, but nothing was wrong. Already his programs were booting up again, fresh and speedy recovery under a new system designation. He hadn't been prepared for the single moment of nothingness, but with the immediate return of his senses, came the change he'd wished for.
Silverline picked himself back up and smiled, "I'm fwhine. And...pleassse call me Sssilverline now."
His proud proclamation was hampered by the stubborn lisp, he would need to practice harder on his S's.
His optics were functioning again, adjusting and readjusting until Mikaela's worried face was in focus.
"Silverline," she repeated. Backing up to give him room to stand, she and Sam exchanged a look.
"Okay, Silverline, huh," Sam quirked a brow, "Could've chosen something more badass in my opinion, but still. It's nice."
Silverline nodded, casting a sunny smile Optimus' way. Sam was right, it wasn't flashy like Ironhide or lofty like Optimus Prime. It was nice. Nice in the way Harry had been when he was human. Silverline was glad he'd chosen Optimus in the end, he knew that the mech would also remember Harry Potter with him.
An addition, not erasure.
He had to do a double-take when he got a good look at Optimus, kneeled in the sand as he was, a gleaming statue from a long-gone empire in the right light. His face, though, couldn't be so easily placed in a distant past.
Joy. Shy, thin joy fluttered about his faceplates like it wasn't quite sure how to properly settle. Awkward, still so awkward, but Silverline found the near-painfully open flicker of sunshine in his optics so much more endearing than the regular, stoic stiffness. His mouth was parted and he was staring down at Silverline like he held the mech's very spark in his servos.
For once, there wasn't fatigue and grief blackening Optimus' edges, the stains and chips in his armor weren't so obvious in light of his expression. He didn't look anything like an alien leader at the brink of extinction, much too full of simple delight. Only Bumblebee had shed his age to a greater extent, only Jazz had further beat back the murkiness in his optics. Neither had managed both.
It was a human expression, or one so identical there was no distinguishing between the two.
"Silverline," Optimus murmured, not a touch of sanctity in his humble bliss.
Silverline...could he not like someone and still feel so driven to remove the space between them? To do his best to push the corners of Prime's mouth plates even further upward?
Hmm, maybe he only liked Optimus a little bit.
"Thank you," He said, utterly confident he'd made the right choice. He was brimming with happiness, weightless and warm, a sun socketed in his chest judging by feeling alone. It was practically overflowing, he danced aimlessly, twirling in between Optimus' legs with wings fanned wide.
An optimal status rumble revved in his throat, separate from his cheery whistling. It colored the desert in even sweeter tones, bundled him up in contentedness like pillowy quilts.
Yeah, he liked him just a tiny little bit.
Time passed in a haze of spins and swoops, the wind caught at the tips of his wings, Optimus' optics followed as doggedly as his shadow. A moment of intimacy that would only feel like goodbye in hindsight.
Silverline wasn't sure how long the moment lasted. It wasn't long enough to move the sun, but enough for Bumblebee to scrounge up the resolve to interrupt.
"Life's like a jump rope/Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, yeah/'Cause life's like a jump rope!"
It was loud and rude and worked like a charm, cutting through the optimal signal like tissue paper.
"Oh yeah!" Mikaela said, "I wanted to teach you guys Chinese jump rope."
She held up the rainbow band and Silverline slowed to a halt curiously. Both he and Sam eyed the rope with matching bemusement.
-Ventilate, Prime.- Bumblebee transmitted.
Mikaela had begun explaining the rules of the game and Silverline wanted to hear them, so he only briefly peeked up at the mech. A short chuff immediately left him at the picture Optimus made, curled into himself with servos pressed flat against his face plates.
He didn't budge, though a huge intake of air and hasty release shook his frame.
-A few programs crashed. I- I think I almost rebooted.-
He sounded dazed, but Bumblebee wasn't alarmed from the audible, whirring cackle wracking his alt form. Silverline took his position in the box made of the jump rope clinging to his ankle.
Bumblebee rolled forward, slowly colliding with his leader until Optimus sat flat on his rear, face still buried in his palms. -I can't believe you're handling this worse than Ratchet, Jazz is going to be polishing my pauldrons for a holovid of this.-
-Was that what offling is like? I feel fatigued, that was...too much.-
Bumblebee's jeering laughs increased sharply in volume and didn't stop until Sam and Mikaela had both slipped from the ropes and it was his turn to complete the jumping pattern.
Both humans were ignoring the mechs admirably, backs turned whenever they could manage it. Silverline followed suit and immersed himself in figuring out how to jump just right in his body. He wasn't good at aiming precisely and mostly played support for Sam and Mikaela, but he had fun anyway and made a mental note to request a jump rope of his own when he was returned to Lord Megatron.
Optimus: Don't mind my subordinates, even the thought of losing you is killing them.
Harry: Um, if I did leave, hypothetically- they wouldn't actually die right?
Optimus: Not physically.
Harry: Oh okay, good. Right. *silent screaming*
So I know everyone's been curious if Harry was gonna get a robot name in this fic. I ALSO know virtually no one liked my weird little name for him in the previous version, so I worked really hard on this one.
Went through like a thousand generators, made a list of nouns that had some relevance to Harry, looked up a cutesy mommy blog full of uplifting sayings, the works.
This isn't his only name- like hell Megatron's gonna let his sparkling prance around with a name given to him by his ultimate enemy. But this is a major part of Harry's identity now.
So I hope at least one person likes the name I chose this time, haha. Haha. ha.
Also I needed me some Optimus loving, the clock is ticking down fast.