AN: my dad has a cold and i can hear him constantly sniffling in the other room. poor dude.
to lilnudger82: thanks for giving my fic a shot!
we hit 75 reviews! tbh this is the happiest i've been in a few days, and its all thanks to you guys! thank you all so much!
The train ride back to London was somber. Hermione was going on vacation somewhere, France probably, and Neville was going to be busy with being the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House, leaving Booker alone and bored over summer. Well, save for Dobby.
"I don't get why you don't have to do it, Harry," Neville complained. "I have to learn all this etiquette and manners and how to introduce myself."
"I'm an orphan," Booker replied. "No one to teach me. Send me some of your books though, I would like to learn this."
"Oooh, me too, me too!" Hermione exclaimed at the notion of books.
Neville chuckled and promised, only to suddenly be interrupted by Malfoy Jr. opening the door to their compartment, sans the two cronies. Hermione immediately clammed up, and Neville gave his best effort at a glare.
"Potter... could I speak to you? I-in private," the blond asked, and guessing what was coming, Booker stood and talked with him.
They stood in the train corridor for a moment before Draco said, "I wanted to thank you for... for saving me from... you know."
"Don't worry about it," Booker replied. "And if you feel like you owe me or something then just leave me and my friends alone and we'll call it even. Hell, you can study with us in the library if you keep the insults to yourself."
"R-really?" The boy looked at him in such wonder and fear that Booker was regretting being such an asshole to him earlier... ehhh, he deserved it for being a little shit.
"Of course, kid. I'll see you next year."
He bid Malfoy farewell and went back into the compartment to chat it up with his two best friends.
Booker stepped off the train with his trunk and pockets packed full of various candies from the trolley.
He didn't forget his promise to bring Dudley all that candy, but he had a plan to get the kid to work for it.
He also gave Hermione the Dursleys' phone number, just in case, and she gave him her home phone number. It felt good to have some other means of communication available that wasn't owl post. Hermione had to go to Diagon Alley to send those letters and that was a pretty penny.
When the Dursleys pulled up, Booker quickly put his trunk in the back and shoved himself into the backseat.
"So, how was uh... the year, Harry?" Dudley asked as Vernon pulled out of the parking lot.
"It was... eventful. Some kids got hurt, I almost died. The usual."
"Y-you almost died?"
"I don't want to hear it! None of that nonsense in my house or car!" Vernon, of course, caused a ruckus, almost running a red light.
Booker chuckled and winked Dudley's way.
"No way, a forty-foot snake?! You killed it?!"
"Yep! I turned myself into a bomb and killed it."
"How did you survive?"
"No idea, but I have this massive scar now," Booker said, pulling up his t-shirt.
"Wow..." Dudley looked at him in awe. "You used to be so scrawny but now you're starting to get muscular. I wonder if I'll ever get to be like that."
Booker, remembering his plan, shrugged. "Maybe. I did bring you some candy, by the way. But," he paused, noting Dudley's eager look, "I'll only give it to you if you go on a jog with me in the mornings."
"Aw, what?"
"Hey, you said you want to be a bit more like me, yeah? I'll wake you up tomorrow morning."
And he did. Changing Dudley into something appropriate for running was the easy part. The hard part was getting him to keep up.
"Slow down, Harry!"
"If I slow down any more I won't get any exercise, Dudders. Keep up! Or should I leave you behind?"
"No!"
They went around the neighborhood, and an hour later, two sweaty young tweens arrived back at their starting point.
"That. Was. Horrible."
"That's gonna be daily, Dudley."
"What?!"
Luckily, Petunia approved of this, and let Booker off the hook on most of his chores if he was getting her son to exercise. Vernon just turned a blind eye.
Being at the start of puberty, he was starting to develop actual muscle, and got that horrible back acne that he had gotten in his past life. Luckily, it didn't mar his face too much, and next thing he knew, girls were checking him out from their front windows when he went running by.
It was a little weird to him. He was only twelve, almost thirteen. Was he really that interesting?
Whatever. He kept jogging, did pushups and situps, and got a growth spurt. Dudley only did the jogging, but went down in waist size a good amount, much to Petunia's delight.
"My Dudders is growing up and becoming a fine young man!"
"It's all thanks to Harry, really, mum," Dudley insisted as she hugged him tight.
She ignored the comment and continued cooing over him.
Meanwhile, Booker struck a deal with Vernon. He would do all the yard work, but in return he got free reign of the unused garage.
What Vernon didn't know was that Dobby was doing the yard work and Booker was making a tear machine in the garage.
Ah well, nothing bad would happen... hopefully.
It took him about a month, but finally, on his birthday, he completed the machine, and was ready to open it, only for four owls to appear in the night sky. Three held packages, and the fourth was a school owl.
The first package was from Neville, which was a stack of books on magical etiquette and such. There was also a pendant for protection.
The second one was from Hermione, with a chemistry kit for home, and some small hints for homework.
The third package was received from Hagrid, of all people, with a large birthday cake (his first, to be honest).
Meanwhile, the Hogwarts letter was a list of classes (Booker vaguely remembered telling Neville to take Ancient Runes with him) and their required supplies, as well as a permission slip for the village of Hogsmeade.
Welp.
Aunt Marge was coming.
For some inconceivable reason, the woman loved him. Perhaps it was because her dogs loved him. Perhaps it was because he was polite to her out of fear of no dinner. Not a damn clue.
Regardless, he didn't mind. Vernon and Petunia couldn't treat him like shit or Marge would get on their asses and he was free to act like a total jock.
"Boy!"
Booker looked up from his project in the garage. When was he ever going to get a chance to use it?
"Aunt Marge is coming! You will pick her up from the station with me!"
"Yes, sir!"
And he was bundled up in a jacket and his scarf and in the car, going out there in the pouring rain with an umbrella at the ready.
"You won't be telling her about that, that Hogwash school, do you hear me?" Vernon sputtered.
"I already have a story in mind," Booker replied.
"St. Brutus's School for Incurable Criminal Boys?"
"What?" With a confused look, he shook his head. "No, St. Brinkworth's Military School."
"Oh… that works, I suppose."
"Hey, Vernon."
"What?"
"I will act perfectly normal, but you gotta sign a permission slip for me."
Vernon snarled. "Fine! Now get ready to carry her bags for her."
When they arrived at the station, the rain was coming down like a Hail Mary. Booker quickly opened up the umbrella and waited for Marge on the curb. She arrived with two large bags at her sides and Ripper bounding along at her side.
"Let me get your bags for you, Aunt Marge," Booker said, and he handed her the umbrella and grabbed her bags, putting them in the trunk.
"Oh Harry! You're such a fine young man, I don't get why my brother always says you're trouble."
"Not a clue, ma'am, not a clue."
Once they were all back in the car, Marge struck up conversation with Vernon about his company. Apparently it wasn't doing too well.
When they got to the house, Dudley begrudgingly helped Booker bring in Marge's bags and proceeded to sit back down at the dinner table. It was obvious the boy was ready for the welcoming feast. Marge and Vernon joined him at the table and soon the whole family, even Booker, was seated, eating and chatting like it was normal to have the orphan seated there.
"So, Harry, what school do you go to?" Marge asked as she served herself some potatoes
"Ah, St. Brinkworth's Military School," Booker replied, handing her the gravy. "It's an all boys school, very strict."
"Oooh, sounds like troublemakers go there."
"There's a few, but it's mostly military brats."
"Why go there?" the large woman asked around a mouthful of food.
"The military is a reliable job," he replied, cutting into his steak. "It will provide me with money, and when I get enough, I head to college."
"Smart boy, aren't you! And what about you, Dudders! What have you been doing at school?"
"Uhhh…" Dudley looked up from his peas.
"Boxing, right?" Booker said after an awkward silence. He wasn't, but maybe he could get into it.
"Oh, right! Boxing, forgot about it. It's quite fun, Aunt Marge."
"I'm glad to hear it, my dear. By the way, Petunia, these potatoes are just marvelous."
"Oh, thank you, Marge," Petunia replied.
After dinner was finished and dessert was being served, Booker gathered the plates and put them in the dishwasher.
"I just don't get why you call him trouble," Marge was saying as they dug into ice cream. "He's perfectly polite."
This was going to be a week of ass-kissing and pretending he cared about his family.
When he finally got time for himself, Booker felt relief wash over him in waves. Good god, that woman spent the whole time talking about what fine young men her nephews were, always doing that cheek grab that old women did to young men. He could finally go back to being a recluse in the garage when the woman was out shopping or whatever she was doing in London.
"What on earth are you doing in there, boy?" Vernon asked one time.
"Science experiments," Booker replied quite truthfully.
"What kind of science?"
"Quantum mechanics."
"Quantum what?"
"Look it up."
And Booker went back into the garage, ready to open a tear.
"Where do you plan to go, Mr. DeWitt?" a familiar voice asked.
"To a city under the sea."
Lutece stepped out of the shadows with synchronized movements. "Sounds... fun."
"Heh. You would know, wouldn't you? Bastards."
He set the time. He set the location. He set the charges, ignoring the loud noises his machine made.
It wasn't the same as the Luteces, his worked a bit faster and was smaller, but it would work just fine.
Getting the parts had been the hard part. Finding the right metals to work with the quantum particles and tear apart space and time was difficult, but finally, he was able to go into a new world.
He activated the tear, and with a deep breath, stepped through.
AN: been listening to so much diveo when writing. show me how you feel, girl, show me how you feel~