Chapter 1 – The Boy From the Cupboard
It was supposed to be just a regular job. A company on Earth in London, Former England, had signed a contract to produce drills for OZ so it could work on building a prototype flight pack for the OZ-06MS Leo. Someone with a lot of money to spare had hired him to take out the entire upper management of the company, Grunnings, and blow up the factory. It was to be both a message to other companies to not work with the Alliance as well as a blow to OZ.
Altogether, there were six people he needed to kill and it had to be done quickly before they put the pieces together and ran. He figured he had four days to complete the mission in an efficient and timely fashion. The Durlseys were fourth on the list, his last targets tonight. Just one more night of assassinations tomorrow, and then he would blow up the base the night after and be out of here. He couldn't wait to sleep on his own bed again back at home on L1. He never slept as well on hotel beds with just one poorly secured door between him and the outside world.
Second and last on the list of targets tonight was the Dursley family of Number 4 Privet Drive. He had researched the family extensively. Middle class, just a father, a mother, and a four year old son. The father was a white-collar Sales Manager who had been at the company for 16 years. He had risen through the company over the years and made enough money that his wife could stay at home and care for their four year old son, Dudley. They doted on their only child, possibly in part because the mother had had a miscarriage prior to having Dudley. From her medical history, she was lucky to have been able to carry Dudley to a month shy of term.
Their credit card history and bank statements showed that they were awfully frugal with their day to day expenses. They didn't even go out to dinner or on dates, save for Valentines Day and their anniversary. They were putting most of their expendable income into a separate savings account for Dudley's schooling. It had only been withdrawn from twice since they made it when Dudley was still in the womb, to pay for the expensive preschool they had enrolled him in.
He parked his stolen car a few blocks away, got out and pulled out his wand. He put a notice-me-not charm on himself and walked down the route to the Number 4, firing off a stupefy at each of the home security cameras he saw. The magic would fry the cameras and the computer they were transmitting their data to, so no one would see him coming or going.
It was early enough in the mission that the local police hadn't thought to put a guard outside the Dursley's home. Tomorrow would be different, he knew. Breaking in was easy enough. While all of the cookie-cutter, upper middle-class homes on Privet Drive had security systems, they were inexpensive and easy to disarm. Even a colony-raised street rat would be able to disarm these with enough practice.
He snuck around the home, years of practice making his movements silent. It was easy. First, he went upstairs and killed the boy. Then, he went down the hall and killed the mother and father. Afterwards, he got on their laptop, hacked into their bank account, and stole all the money they'd been saving for their son. Dead people had no use for money.
He was just walking down the hall to leave when he heard it. A sniffle, like a small child crying, coming from the cupboard under the stairs right beside him.
Drawing his gun, he kicked open the door to the cupboard and aimed his gun in front of him at whoever was inside.
A little boy screamed in terror, backing up against the wall and clutching his ratty, thin blanket around him like a shield.
Sorry, kid. Can't leave any witnesses.
He aimed at the boy, finger tightening around the trigger, and the boy put his hands up to protect his face.
At least you'll get away from the abuse.
That's when he saw it. The boy's motion moved his wild brown hair just enough that he could see the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
What the hell? He's Harry Potter!
"Relax, kid. I'm not going to hurt you." He put his arms up and slowly, carefully put his gun back in his waistband. What's the boy who lived doing here?
"My name's Odin."
The boy peaked out from under the cover of his arms, slowly relaxing but not quite ready to let himself be defenseless yet. "H-Ha-Harry. Harry P-Potter. Sir."
The boy was crying and hiccupping, terrified of him.
"Can you tell me why you're locked up in here, Harry?" he asked, gently, trying to look friendly. He wasn't good with kids, but he needed information. Surely someone was looking for him.
"Th-this is my cu-cupboard, sir. My room. Uncle Vernon doesn't have enough rooms for me."
He lives here? His relatives did this?
"Uncle Vernon's dead, Harry. So are Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley. You're all alone now." He let that information sink in for a moment. The boy appeared too stunned to really understand.
"You have two choices," he continued, holding up two fingers. "One, I'll dump you in the nearest orphanage and you can live there-" The boy's blue eyes widened in horror at the proposition. No doubt he'd been told horror stories so he wouldn't blabber about his relatives' mistreatment to anyone.
"-or, two, you can come with me and be my student. I travel for work a lot so I don't have time for a kid. But I do have time for a student. You can work with me and learn how to take care of yourself. So, Harry, what will it be?"
Evidently not even the Ministry of Magic was looking out for their boy savior, or he wouldn't have ended up in this shithole. He would take him in and teach him how to survive on his own.
Harry stood up and tentatively took a step towards him, still carefully remaining out of arm's reach. "I'll go with you, Odin, sir."
Odin nodded. "Okay then. Grab something to wear tomorrow and get your shoes on, we'll be leaving immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
The boy jumped to comply, as if he was scared that he would be hit or left behind if he didn't obey quickly enough. Within seconds, the boy had picked out a faded, matching hand-me-down outfit set that probably once belonged to his cousin way back when he actually fit into clothes that size. Harry was the size of the average three year old while Dudley was so overweight that he wore clothes several sizes above his own age bracket. His shoes were hand-me-downs as well, with holes everywhere and held together by lots of tape.
They like their appearances, but appearance doesn't really matter much if they keep the boy inside all the time. He hasn't even had a single vaccination his whole life.
Harry waited at his side, trembling in fear, but ready to leave.
"Follow me and do as I do. Stay silent until we get to the car."
Renewing his notice-me-not charm, and placing a new one on Harry, Odin lead the four-year-old out of the house and down to where he'd parked his stolen getaway car.He got straight into the drivers seat and waited for Harry to get in. It took the tiny, malnourished boy a big heave he was barely capable of doing to get the car door open.
"Hurry up, kid." He grunted, as the boy climbed into the passenger seat and struggled to close the door behind himself.
"Yes, Odin, sir. I'm sorry, sir." The boy replied quickly, buckling himself in easily enough. He hadn't stopped trembling the entire time.
As soon as the buckle clicked, Odin drove off.
When they arrived at the cheap hotel in London, Odin was able to walk straight into his room with Harry. No front door to walk in or elevator to go up first, none of that. Less staff meant less people to witness him going in and out as well as a much cheaper, possibly non-functioning security camera setup.
He had expected the boy to recoil or shriek at the sight of several roaches scuttling away when he turned on the light and walked in, but the boy didn't make a sound. He just wordlessly took off his shoes and moved to sit down in a corner out of the way, mindful of the spider web in the corner.
Odin went to the bathroom and relieved himself before setting the alarm on the nightstand to 8am. He looked over at Harry, who hadn't moved a muscle and was still staring at him, waiting expectantly. He sighed.
"We've got a few hours before morning, Harry. Let's sleep for a bit, and then we'll talk in the morning over breakfast." He said, pulling the covers down on the single hotel bed.
He patted the side of the mattress closest to Harry, his long night and lack of adequate sleep this week making him impatient. "Well? Come on, then. The bed's big enough for the two of us. You don't have to sleep on the floor anymore."
Harry's face lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Really, sir? I get to sleep on a bed?!"
He bolted over and jumped on the bed beside him, pulling the covers over his hand-me-down pajamas with the biggest grin on his face. "Thank you, Odin, sir! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He smiled warmly at Harry. "You're welcome, kid."
The sight of the him being so happy and appreciative for such a normal thing, something his relatives were fully capable of providing for him, pulling at his heartstrings. "Now get some sleep, we've got a lot to do tomorrow."
Harry was asleep before he was.
The alarm woke the both of them up, and Harry startled badly. He cried out and nearly fell off the bed in his hurry to escape the covers and put distance between them. "I'm sorry, sir! I'm sorry, Odin, sir!"
Odin looked at the boy, wide awake now, and paused for a moment to analyze him.
"You don't even know what you're apologizing for, do you?" He said, his tone more gentle than he liked. Coddling him wasn't going to help him in this line of work.
Harry's mouth clamped shut. Trembling visibly with fear, he shook his head in the negative.
"Say it out loud." He admonished, calmly.
"No, sir. No, Odin, sir. I don't know why I'm saying sorry. Uncle Vernon always wanted it."
He nodded, accepting the boy's response. "I'm not Uncle Vernon, kid. I'm Odin Lowe. I took you in because I wanted to. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm going to teach you."
Harry nodded, hurriedly. "Yes, Mr. Lowe, sir."
A question, and curiosity, were clear on his face but he remained silent. It was like pulling teeth with this kid, he was so well conditioned.
"If you have a question, I want you to ask it. You're my student and I'm your mentor. The only stupid question is one you don't ask me, or one you ask with too many people around. Understand?"
"What's your job that you're teaching me, Mr. Lowe, sir?" he asked, slowly, cautiously, fearfully. Being allowed to ask questions was a very new concept, apparently.
"I'm an assassin for hire, Harry. People pay me to kill someone for them." He explained.
"Oh." Harry said, looking quite disturbed at the prospect.
"I don't kill just anyone, though. I only take jobs that I think will help the world." He elaborated, putting it simply for him. One bullet fired, stupidly, on orders, thinking he didn't have a choice is what got the world into the civil war it was in right now. It was the only way he could make peace with himself.
Harry nodded. "Okay, Mr. Lowe, sir."
"Good." He replied, "What do you want from McDonalds, Harry? I'm going to order us some food to be delivered."
"Um, I-I don't know, Mr. Lowe, sir. Any-anything's f-fine!" he said, looking away, nervous.
Odin sighed. This kid was going to be a lot of work. "Its just food. You can have an opinion, I won't get mad. What do you want from McDonalds?"
The boy looked up at him, scared and hesitant as he spoke up. "U-um…can-can I have…pa-pancakes, please, sir?"
"Of course." Odin replied. "I'll order you some chocolate chip pancakes and extra syrup." It seemed childish enough. He needed to get Harry to trust him if he was going to be able to train him and keep him alive.
After he was done making the delivery order, Odin made the bed and got on his laptop he'd left on the small table. He would have preferred to leave Harry to his own devices, sitting in the corner again out of the way, so he could get prepared for the assassination jobs tonight. But when the mission was over, he needed to leave with a boy that more closely resembled the son he was going to have him passed off as. And to that end, the boy needed paperwork, some clothes, basic hygiene supplies, to be enrolled in the Colonial Homeschooling Program, and a tablet or netbook to do his schoolwork on. It was the best accredited homeschooling program in the colonies, and with good enough fake paperwork he would be able to get the boy in as his son. The son of a retired OZ sniper would get in no problem.
He turned around in his chair to face Harry.
"Harry, what have you learned so far? Do you know your colors, the alphabet, the number line…?" he trailed off, expecting an answer. He'd never had a kid before, he genuinely had no clue what a four year old was supposed to know.
"Aunt Petunia taught me all that, Mr. Lowe, sir. I know all the colors, I can write my name, and I can count to twenty!" he exclaimed proudly.
"Good."
It wasn't even really praise directed at him, moreso satisfaction that he wouldn't have to teach him much, but Harry seemed to take it as genuine praise. His face lit up in excitement and happy tears came to his eyes.
"Wow, really? I-I'm good? I'm a good boy?"
"I didn't mean you, Harry." The boy's face fell instantly, crushed. "But yes, you've been well behaved, so far."
Harry grinned again, wriggling in place with excitement but too disciplined to show it any more than that. "Thank you, Mr. Lowe, sir!"
The delivery app beeped at him with a notification that his food was on its way. "Harry, why don't you take a bath and get dressed before our food gets here? You can use my stuff, its sitting on the counter. Take your time, I'll knock when your pancakes are here."
"Yes, sir! I will! Thank you, sir!" Harry practically skipped to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
He really just didn't want the deliveryman seeing Harry.
Twenty minutes later, Odin and Harry were eating at the small, rickety table and chairs, so small it barely fit their food and drinks on it.
"Alright, Harry. So here's the plan for today. I have a lot of errands I need to run before we leave town the day after tomorrow, and I have a lot of work to do to get ready for tonight's job. I'll take care of lunch and dinner, of course. I just need you to stay busy while I work and run errands. I'm going to give you a task to do while I'm busy later, okay?"
"Yes, Mr. Lowe, sir." Harry replied, beaming, mouth full of chocolate chip pancakes with extra syrup. He'd never seen a kid so happy just to eat pancakes before.
"I'm going to get you some fake papers so I can pass you off as my son. Your middle name will be Odin, after me, and your last name will be Lowe. Your first name should start with an H so its easy for you to remember. I looked up some ideas. Harrison, Harold, Henry, Hadrian, Holden…I'll let you think about it. Its your name, so you'll get a say in it too. I just can't keep calling you Harry."
"Yes, sir."
When they were done eating, Odin threw their trash in the garbage and pulled a handgun out from between the clothes he'd put away in the dresser, took all the ammo out of it, and got out a flat-head screwdriver.
"Alright, kid. Here's your task for the day." He said, putting the unloaded gun and a screwdriver in front of the boy.
"You're going to be my assistant and student, and in order to be of any use you'll have to know how to fire a gun. But before I can teach you how to shoot a gun, I need you to get familiar with it. You need to know how it feels in your hands, what each of its parts do, and how to maintain it. So today before I leave, I'm going to show you how to take apart a gun completely and what each of the parts do and how they interact. Before I leave for my job tonight I'm going to quiz you on it and see how you're doing. You don't have to ace it or even pass it, I just want to see what your progress looks like. You have plenty of time to learn this before I'll be able to get you your own gun and let you practice with it back home."
The boy nodded, gulping nervously as he looked at the gun. The very same gun that he'd used to kill his relatives the night before.
"You-you killed m-my Aunt an-and Uncle and Dud-Dudley with i-it, did-didn't you? Made th-em sl-sleep fore-forever." he said, nervously stuttering even worse than he had earlier and looking at him with a newfound sense of apprehension in his eyes. The boy might have not seen it happen, but he could understand what death meant with his own parents being dead.
"Yes, I did. It was my job. My job was to kill your uncle and his family. I didn't expect you to be there."
I wouldn't have killed you even if I had known, though. You're too important to kill. Not that I'm going to tell you that now, though.
He had no intention of telling the kid that he was the Boy Who Lived until he knew he could withstand torture and not tell anyone. The boy wasn't mature enough to understand the gravity of his situation.
"Don't look like that. You're going to be learning how to kill people, too, kid. You made your decision already, its too late to go back now." He admonished.
He sighed in frustration when he saw the boy put down his fork and look at his lap, tears pooling in his blue eyes.
"Listen, nobody's good or bad. Everyone's got a mix of bad and good in them. I'm going to teach you how I make sure I'm taking jobs to kill people that are choosing to do bad things. Because if someone chooses to do bad things and won't stop, they need to be dealt with."
It was a lot more complex than good or bad, but that wasn't something a four year old civilian child fresh out of a neglectful, abusive home could understand. He would teach him that, too.
The boy sniffled, wiping his eyes and snotty nose on his hand and rubbing it all over his shorts. "Okay, Mr. Lowe, sir."
Odin spent the remainder of the day running errands, throwing out his hand-me-downs, getting the kid's paperwork together, getting him set up for internet-based homeschooling, and preparing for tonight's job. He would leave the boy at the hotel for this one, he should just sleep through it.
Evening came and after another delivery meal, Odin quizzed the kid on his skills, correcting him where he was wrong and just saying 'right' or 'good' when he got it correct. The boy blossomed under the attention, grinning up at him, his blue eyes sparkling, when he got something right.
"Not bad, kid. I have to go do my job, now, okay? I'll be back really early tomorrow morning, so just go to sleep."
"Yes, Mr. Lowe, sir!"
"About that, kid. We're going to be pretending to be father and son from now on, so I need you to start calling me dad." He would tell the kid his new name later, he was more concerned with the boy slipping up. He needed to get in the habit before they left town.
The boy paused, and when he spoke it came out awkward and uncertain. "Okay, dad, I will."
"Good, son."
Author's Note: Because I will never in a million years get around to restarting and writing Assassin's Protégé itself, here's a crossover! This works if you make Lily have blue eyes and if you picture Harry as his actor from the movies. Which I admit I still do even if I read the books first. Any preferences for his new name? I've been set for years on Holden, to be honest, so it might still remain Holden. Tell me what you think of this chapter in a review!