Chapter 47
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 23- Back to America
AN: Beta'd by Sam, Sedition, and Kaladin.
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'It's time.'
Eyes closed and head bowed, Harry Potter sat at the massive ancestral ornate table of the Potter Manor, psyching himself up for what was to come.
This was it. His wait was finally over, the clock ticking down. Upon him was the day that would provide him with an opportunity to truly assess his newly gained skills and battle prowess, perhaps even confirming exactly where he stood in this world. If his caution and preparation was truly warranted…
Though he doubted he'd ever stop improving himself—even should he have surpassed everyone already. But in that case, he would surely need a new goal.
After all, if he no longer strived to survive, what exactly would push him forward?
Unfortunately, in all of his planning, there was just…a minor problem…that he hadn't quite taken into account.
And that minor problem was currently upstairs; jumping around in the house, screaming at the top of her voice, and doing what she did best….being an annoying little hellion.
"Mum! I can't find my green frock! I think Dori burnt it!"
Harry sighed, and not for the first time either. While he would like to pretend that he was doing something worthwhile—sitting here, contemplating life—in truth he just wanted to escape the crosshair of his siblings, their bickering now grating upon his ears.
Right on cue, his elder sister hollered at the top of her voice from the other side of the Manor. "Please, as if I have nothing better to do!"
Harry buried his face in the hollow of his elbow. He was almost coming to miss the arrogant but silent Dorea, at least his peace would've been whole and unconquered. Almost.
"You called it an abdomination! I always knew you hated it!"
"As did you! I don't know why you suddenly find it more interesting. And it's 'abomination'."
"Mum, she said it again! She said the 'A' word! And I like it now cause I'm a mighty Slytherin! Green is my new favorite color!"
Harry sighed once more, palm coming to rub his eyes.
The morning of 19th December was supposed to mark the day of his resurgence, when he would grace America with his now strengthened presence….instead, all it saw was the Potter Manor being a den of chaotic mess, and him in the midst of it.
The three Potter siblings had arrived back home from Hogwarts the prior night, side-Apparated by Lily, having left earlier than the rest of the school. Except for Harry, who took it as a chance to test out his new Apparition skill…something he truly wasn't a fan of.
But while their parents were surely glad to see them, their mere presence broke apart whatever little peace the Potter manor might have had prior to their arrival in a trillion little pieces.
This was supposed to be a big day for Harry. So much so that he'd forced himself to put the entire Prophecy that had recently been revealed to him in the back of his mind, intending to focus on the mission first…and yet, in front of the hell his sisters raised, it might as well be taking a second priority.
'Is this how a normal family prepares for vacations?'
He hadn't even given the World level its due contemplation! Aside from the wider—and quite startling—implications that it seemed to hint at him.
[World Level]: The User's World Level shows the difficulty of the opponents. With each increase in World Level, more powerful beings will be introduced to this world.
Note: Increase in World Level will hasten the events and story quests for the User.
What did it mean to hasten the events? Were the events of this world pre-planned? Was he simply following an already established fate? While he was always glad for more quests, he knew there was something special about Story Quests…and yet, he was entirely ignorant about what story he was following exactly.
The 'more powerful beings' part, on the other hand, seemed to lend credence to Harry's idea of having surpassed everyone. Why else would the system wish to introduce even more powerful beings after all? And, as it seemed, inter-planetary ones on top of that.
But if that wasn't the case and he considered his other theory…if he pondered deeper into the second conclusion that he'd drawn…
Then things might become grimmer than Harry would like them to be.
Even if he ignored the implications of there being aliens—and a much wider universe than he'd previously believed—the fact that his system might be saturating a world full of powerful beings with even more powerful aliens meant that it might not be acting in his best interest anymore.
If it ever did.
That was a painful shock in itself, but when you add in the notion of it trying to push Harry to become even stronger—for something other than basic survival—it makes one wonder…
'What if the system is just preparing me for something greater? Something much bigger? Stronger?'
But then, what could possibly be stronger than his system?
The mere thought placed a permanent frown on his face. Most of the strength he'd accumulated was through his system; something he'd always considered to be above all else. Even God. The fact that there could be someone or something rivaling its might…
Well, whatever it might be, Harry wanted nothing to do with it.
What he feared was that his system might not give him that option…
'And it wouldn't even be too hard to force me. Just give me a quest with devastating penalties upon failure and I'd be trapped…'
Realizing how harshly his heart was burning, Harry turned his rapidly descending mind to happier things with a gentle push from Occlumency
Like the fact that he was about to reunite with Kara today. Along with Melinda, Maria, and perhaps—with the system's grace and glory—Natasha.
It would be interesting to note their exact affection and reputation for him. They'd always treated him much better than strangers—Kara even declaring him family once—but only his system could confirm if that was all just a show to manipulate him…or actual sentiments similar to his family.
Though he was also a smidge more excited to compare exactly how they stacked against Lily. They were all beautiful women after all—Natasha in a league of her own—but could any hope to compete with Lily? One of the most voluptuous and buxom women he'd ever witnessed?
Well, with the amount of experience he'd accumulated recently, he would definitely like to find out.
The thought brewed no small amount of desire within him, a desire he hoped to breathe into these women.
…Even if he didn't quite relish having to face Kara again.
Then again, perhaps she forgot about his ill-timed departure...
'Not likely.'.
In any case, he'll be seeing it with his own eyes in a few hours…
For they were about to leave Europe behind today. Their plane tickets for New York were already booked; first class seats in British Airways reserved for three families.
Harry didn't know how he felt about sharing this trip with the Blacks and Lupins—except maybe for Amelia, who'd always been quite pleasing to the eye every time he saw her—but that was the least he could do for a begging James who'd been willing to hold his ground against a Super Soldier like Ares for his sake.
Either way, their flight was already booked for 11 AM sharp, and they needed to reach Heathrow airport a while before that.
All three families had planned to meet at the Black Manor—it being the closest to London—at least an hour before the flight time. From there they would take a limousine James had so graciously booked for them all.
Unfortunately, Harry was beginning to have some doubts about their success…
"Mum! I can't leave my poor frock alone!"
"Dorea, be a dear and fetch it for her!"
"But you said I'm not supposed to use magic in the house unless needed!"
"Then fetch it by hand! I'm busy!"
"Tempus." Harry muttered, flicking his wand lightly.
'9:46 AM'.
Harry sighed.
Honestly, Harry couldn't understand why his female family members felt the need for any packing. They didn't have any weapons on them—except for a wand, which could fit in their pocket—and didn't need any clothes, considering their plans of 'mega shopping!' he'd heard from their whispers once they reached America.
Thankfully, he did not need to torture himself for long as the grand fireplace was suddenly engulfed in green flames that parted away softly to reveal the well-dressed figure of James.
"Harry," The man greeted with a smile, eyes flickering up and down his stature in assessment. "All ready for this trip? Though I'll say, you do cut a very striking figure…what do the muggles call it? Lady killer? Hmm, though that would be a disastrous title for you now that I think about it, hehe. Unless you've never killed a lady befor—oh, forget it."
The Potter lord chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. It suddenly struck Harry that both of his sisters might have inherited their social skills from their father. The awkwardness in Dorea—something that was becoming more visible everyday—and the garrulousness in the Midget that seemed never to stop.
"What I'm saying is…you've definitely taken after your mother. When I was younger, I could never look good in anything other than formal robes. That too after a whole lot of grooming my mother forced on me. Especially my hair."
As if to emphasize, he dabbed down a few wild strands of his hair that had come loose.
Deadpanned, Harry ignored all of his chatter, simply pointed up the stairs accusingly.
"Muuuum! Dori burnt the green frock! I told you she hated it!" Came the squeaking bellow of his midget twin.
James winced. "Ahh. I take it they aren't ready yet?"
Harry shook his head silently.
"Well how about you go and wait for us at Black Manor? Sara is already there, I'm sure you'd like to catch up with her outside the school."
The man paused, eyes crinkling with a sudden snicker. "Also, the thought that you might leave without us will motivate Lily to go faster."
Shrugging, Harry slid down from his perch and made for the fireplace.
"Black Manor, Harry." James reminded him. "Spell it loud and clear."
With a nod at his father, Harry took a fistful of Floo Powder, threw it at his feet and stated monotonously. "Black Manor."
The comforting magical flames lapped him up in their warm embrace, twisting his being through a thin tube that stretched many miles across the world, before finally spitting him out through the other end.
Harry landed on his feet, his balance righting itself almost unconsciously.
The Manor's air was cool on his skin, cooler than back home, but no less welcoming. It had the same subtle twinge of security and warmth that had been lacking for most of his life before he made Potter Manor his home.
Though it certainly wasn't a copy of their Manor. Where the Potters' ancestral house was brightly colored and royal looking, the Blacks' seemed…darker.
Drapes of dark green curtained the walls of what he thought to be the main hall. The chandelier twinkled silver in the ceiling, casting its glow down upon the emerald green cushions and couches. Just like gold and red seemed to be House of Potter's theme color, green and silver appeared to symbolize the Blacks.
Yet, he could also see the awkward attempts the Blacks seemed to have made in introducing more colors to the house. The colorful lamps that did not mesh well with their surroundings, the golden carpet that almost looked gaudy in comparison…
Harry wouldn't claim to be a connoisseur of fashion, but he knew if one's house looked like a circus, they either had weird tastes or they'd failed in their task horribly…
"Harry!" The first voice to greet his arrival was of Andrea, who quickly came sprinting down the grand set of stairs directly facing the Fireplace.
The other occupants of the house took notice of him as well, first being his History of Magic teacher: Sara Lupin.
She'd been sitting alone on the couch, facing away from him, the roaring blaze of the floor fire alerting her a second before Andrea's yell filled up the manor.
Harry stopped short as she turned, eyes glinting as he scanned her up and down, surprised to notice how alluring she looked under the silver glow of the chandelier. It may be due to her change in attire—from the loose Hogwarts robes to a body-hugging sweater and black jeans—but he couldn't help noticing the gentle swell of her breasts, much smaller than Lily but very much visible. And desirable. Very desirable.
Even her face…there was a unique feral beauty and sharpness to her face that he'd never noticed before, especially as she gave him an impish grin in greeting. "Hello, Harry."
It was a good thing that his poker face was top notch, or he'd be licking his lips in anticipation of this trip.
'I've just got another reason to look forward to it.'
Nonetheless, he greeted back with serene politeness. "Professor Lupin."
The slightest hints of irritation flared across her face, only to be quickly hidden under a half-smirk. "Please, you're free to call me Sara, Harry. I insist, in fact."
He didn't get the chance to reply as Andrea finally climbed down the stairs, coming to a rushed stop in front of him, her hand quickly taking a hold of his. "We didn't know you were coming so soon! Uncle James said you'll all arrive together later!"
A sudden ring of system notification took his attention away from her chatter.
Quest [Horcrux Hunting] in progress!
Locate and Destroy all the Horcrux!
?
?
Rewards:
10 levels
?
?
Harry frowned. 'Now what the fuck is a Horcrux?'
And why was he being given a quest out of nowhere?
Neither of his questions were given any chance to be answered as his friend—girl-friend?—dragged him up the stairs. "C'mon, this is your first time here! I'll give you a tour before the others come back!"
He let himself be dragged away, giving an absent nod to the lone beauty who retook her seat. "Sara."
The smile he received was enough of an incentive for him to start planning for some fun things.
'Hopefully my sagely self could help me out here.'
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Dorea Potter grumbled under her breath, trying to remember every essential item she must have on this trip. Unfortunately, her annoying little sister simply refused to get out of her mind, bringing an unneeded distraction to an otherwise exciting day.
She almost wished for things to go back to normal, at least the chattering girl would leave her alone then…
'...Okay, maybe not.'
Dorea's lips twitched, the thought taking a bitter hold on her mind.
She wasn't actually upset about the renewed attention she was receiving from her younger sister. Hell, she might even enjoy the occasional banter.
It's just...why couldn't Rose be more like Fleur!?
Dorea closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to stop her mind from diving into the pitfall. She was trying to change now, bringing back her old way of thinking would do her no good. But it was a difficult thing, to break away from that line of thought, something that had haunted her many a night as she lay awake thinking.
It was an unfair demand, she knew. Everyone was different, and she shouldn't be feeling bitter that her sister didn't live up to her expectations. And yet, she couldn't help but compare her new siblings with the one she got from her foster family.
Fleur had been, in one word, awesome. A few months older than her, the astonishingly beautiful girl had been like an elder sister to Dorea. Without her, Dorea was sure she would never have been able to cope with the pressure of fame and popularity.
Even now, thinking back to those days brought up a wistful smile on her face.
Dorea had already been living with the Delacours when the events of that horrid Halloween night took place. She didn't know exactly why she was given away before her siblings, though Apolline informed her that it was her mother's idea; having become good friends with the Delacours through Nicolas Flamel, to whom she was apprenticed under to further her Alchemical knowledge. Lily, Apolline told her, had wanted to leave England the moment Dorea was born. But the war had picked up too quickly, giving them no chance to make a proper move before England found itself isolated from the rest of the world.
Whatever the case, the point remained: On the fateful night of You-Know-Who's downfall, Dorea Potter had been safe and sound under the roof of the Delacours, away from all the killing and fighting, away from the danger her siblings faced.
Yet, that single night's events hailed the Potters as one of the most famous families in the magical world.
And that fame, unfortunately, had followed toddler-Dorea to France—even though she'd done nothing heroic.
She'd just been a child then, woefully unprepared for the sudden surge of popularity she received after being identified. Worse though, her fame wasn't even her own. And she knew this, having to grow up hearing about her wonderful siblings. About the perfect 'Twins-Who-Lived', who vanquished the Dark Lord and survived the Killing Curse. Her stardom was simply an after-effect of being related to the Potters; a family that meant very little to her back then.
Yet, everyone acted as if she had some inner insight regarding their lives, especially about her brother who was found missing just a few years later.
Everyone except the Delacours, and that was how Fleur and Apolline became an integral part of her life; setting an example for her to follow and giving directions to a clueless child. For fame was something the Delacours knew quite well about, not just in fostering a Potter child, but also for the astonishing beauty the duo sported. Such was their beauty that more often than not, the male Delacour simply played second fiddle in front of his wife and daughter, his position in the Ministry forgotten with one look at his family.
It was the effortless way Apolline—and thus Fleur—handled their own share of fame that motivated Dorea to copy her family and walk firmly upon their footsteps. From the casual way they brushed off journalists and reporters alike to the contemptuous dismissal they delivered to unwanted presences…they held themselves like Queens—confident and superior—who simply couldn't be bothered with the rest of the common rabble.
While they'd no doubt left a long line of seething men with their derisive bearing, it had served them well to keep the attention at bay.
And thus, from quite a young age, Dorea had begun learning how to act under the tutelage of Apolline Delacour—alongside her dear sister, Fleur—and not just to shield herself from the vast majority of opportunistic weasels that the Magical World birthed, but also on how to keep the crowd under control.
Unfortunately, it was never meant to last.
The arrival of the day when she would need to go back to her back-from-the-dead family was soon and sudden; plunging her entire world into a storm of uncertainty. She'd been so looking forward to attending Beauxbatons alongside her sister in all but blood, completely prepared to face a new challenge...
But no, she was forced to go back to a country she held no love for, to play nice with a bunch of people she barely even knew. Even putting the mundane challenges—like learning proper English—aside, the fact that almost no one recognized her in this damned country had made her blood boil.
At the start, that had been the only reason for her to look forward to and not despair. The dark excitement of blowing the English wizards off with her unshaking attitude, showing them all that she would not be cowed, and gaining their admiration and respect like Apolline had…
It had been a lone candle in the uncertain darkness.
Yet all came crashing down when she realized…she didn't need to. She didn't need to worry about press or fame…because she was nothing in this country in front of her twins. Why would the press care about the mundane Dorea Potter who'd never done anything heroic when there was the 'Girl-Who-Lived' standing right beside her? Even more so considering the youngest Potter would readily whip out a striking pose for the cameras, a happy little grin on her face, quite unlike her frigid bitch of a sister.
And it birthed within her an insecurity that she'd never been able to defeat.
Worse though, had to be the hollowness in her heart that her new family couldn't hope to fill. And the reason was quite simple for her childish mind…
In comparison to Apolline and Fleur, the female side of her new family simply fell short. Sure, Lily might be just as beautiful and respected—perhaps even more desired—but she didn't have that air of…superiority and royal dominance that Apolline always carried around her like an untouchable shroud. Rose, on the other hand, was simply a gone case; a polar opposite of everything Dorea thought of as qualities in a strong woman.
As for James…well, she'd learned to not pay much heed to Mr. Delacour so respecting a male figure didn't even cross her mind.
Was it any surprise that she'd been distant to her family then? All her plans, all her dreams and expectations…everything had drowned in the mud with a snap of a finger.
And thus, she reacted to her new situation like she'd trained herself to do; with contempt and dissatisfaction.
The difference was, she didn't reserve it for the press—whose only interest in her came when Rose was not with her—but for the family who snatched her away from everything that brought her joy.
She was proud to say now that it didn't last long though. Even she couldn't stay cold hearted against the love her true parents showered over them. Yes, the insecurity remained. Yes, the bitterness still grew. But she could at least admit that Lily and James were decent people, and downright fearsome against anyone who dared cast a slanted gaze upon their family. More than that, James never seemed to be just there like Mr. Delacour was.
Only here did she realize that something was wrong in the Delacours relationship. Even though Mr. Delacour was the main source of income, he never felt like the one in charge…or even equal. Apolline was always the one who spent that money, she was the one that ran the house, the one who planned the events and ordered the elves. Her husband was, quite frankly, a cowardly mess in front of his wife and daughter.
The Potter couple couldn't have been further from that, and Dorea had come to respect that.
But that meant the new target of her contempt became the rest of the world. Especially those foolish children in Hogwarts.
She was just beginning to settle in with the Potters—ignoring her annoying little sister—when everything changed once again.
Because then he came.
Harry Potter.
Thinking of Harry sent her heart rapidly beating, a complex ball of emotions brewing inside her that even she couldn't understand.
His was a face one would never forget...neither would they wish to. One can be considered handsome or pretty—and she'd met plenty of boys in France who fit both categories—yet one could never hope to be as perfect as Harry.
His face was carved from the most beautiful jade granite, cold but perfect, without a single blemish on it, and an angelic countenance with a well-defined jaw, far beyond his years. His skin looked crystal clear and smoother than silk, something she knew many girls in her class would love to caress. And most would've tried to—masking it as teasing a younger student—had they believed they could get away with it without losing their fingers.
With cold emerald green orbs that shone with power, and raven hair that reached his shoulders….Harry could easily top the charts in witches weekly's 'most handsome wizard' competition.
It was enough for many girls in her class—and even many older students—to display an interest that went far beyond his 'Boy-Who-Lived' status. The fact that he was a first year—and very much a kid—was easily forgotten, especially with the way he looked and acted, resulting in many of Hogwarts' older inhabitants needing to be reminded again and again.
Dorea was pretty sure her new Arithmancy teacher had less than innocent intentions when she tried to 'subtly' ask about Harry. She'd felt goosebumps erupt in her arms with the way Professor Vector had purred about her brother's 'Exceptional skill with his wand'.
The only imperfection in his appearance came from his scar, yet only a fool would see it as such. That scar was possibly the single most recognizable trait on a wizard in the entire world. It didn't take away from Harry, but simply added to his mysticism.
But appearances can be misleading, she knew. Had Harry hid behind the perfection of his face, showing no talent of his own, Dorea would've convinced herself to dismiss the boy. But no, if anything his looks were thoroughly overshadowed by his rapidly growing skill and power…and the legend that came along with it.
She still remembered that day, feeling his power upon her skin…boundless and terrible, dominating her entire being, rousing a deep need within her that even she couldn't recognize.
Harry was everything Dorea had ever dreamt of…in a brother! Even on their first meeting, she hadn't been able to keep a calm heart, quickly making her escape before she did something that would definitely disappoint Fleur and Apolline. Plus, she also had to maintain her cold, icy image.
That first night, she'd slept with a smile on her face, realizing she might no longer be alone in her house. Out of everybody there, her brother shared the most qualities with her, it was easy to conclude they would be depending on each other quite a lot in the coming days.
Well, yeah…things didn't go according to plan. She'd given him every chance to speak with her, going out of her way to cross his path, and giving no small amounts of opening to start a conversation. Hell, she would've even let go of Fleur's advice of being a snobby bitch the first couple of times a boy starts talking to you….but no. Harry Potter treated her exactly as Apolline would treat a common wizard; with cold dismissal.
It wouldn't have hurt as bad if she hadn't witnessed Rose seemingly digging her claws into him effortlessly, completely baffling Dorea.
'How can someone so similar to me ever hang out with that annoying runt!?' Had been her lone thought then. 'How can someone so cold, composed, and confident ever wish to hang around a chatter-mouth?'
And yet, it happened. Each day their relationship grew while she seethed alone in a corner, unable to do anything.
But after being ignored by him for almost three months, she'd once again tried to gain his attention. In the only way she knew.
'By being a bitch.' A part of her mind whispered, and she found herself unable to disagree.
The harsh words he'd spoken that day, the threats he'd uttered…they all hit so hard because they were true.
An insecure coward.
Dorea flinched, her aimlessly wandering hands coming to a stop.
'We'll be better off without you.'
She closed her eyes, tears bubbling behind her eyelid.
Almost a month and yet the words still pricked her heart like the sharpest of needles.
She wagered they probably wouldn't have been as effective had they come from Rose…or even her own parents.
But Harry…the only one she'd thought might be able to understand her….it hurt.
The worst thing was…he did understand her. Even more than she did.
And he did not like what he saw. He did not like her.
Then again, could she truly blame him?
What had she been all her life but an insecure coward? She hid behind her cold mask to deal with her fame, she let her insecurity brew within her unattended like a little girl; jealous and envious.
'Never again!'
…Or perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was too late to change. Perhaps the Potters really would be better off without her…
"Dorea!" Her mother's sudden voice broke her out of her vices. "Honey, we're late! Come down, quick!"
Dorea shook her head, wiping the few trickling tears with the back of her hand, a sudden warmth spreading through her chest at her mother's voice.
No. She wasn't about to give up now of all times. She'd already gone over this whole ball of blame in her head.
That day, when Harry had torn into her being, it had brought with it a unique perspective of life. It had made her confront herself, confront what she'd become….
And she'd realized with a start that she'd unwittingly twisted Apolline's teachings to suit her own needs. Apolline would never go sneering down random people's throats. The only targets for her contempt were those fools who dared bother her or her daughters.
And thus, she'd sworn to change. Sworn to be better. And for the most part…she felt like she was succeeding.
The old Dorea wouldn't be capable of showing her face after being humiliated like that. The old Dorea was too much of a coward to face the world without her sneering mask.
But she? She no longer cared.
There comes a time when you look back at your past self and admit; 'Alright I was being a bitch and deserved that'. Dorea believed her time had simply come early.
And she didn't regret it. She was a better person now—she hoped—growing past what she'd been.
And isn't life nothing but a race to grow furthest?
"Dori! I got my green frock! You cannot defeat the might of Slytherin!"
Sighing, she shook her head and stood up, dragging her expandable bag with her. Everything she needed was already packed. It was time to put her past behind and start a new beginning.
Her feet climbed down the stairs, realizing the rest of her family were already gathered in front of the crackling fireplace; their own bags with them.
All except…
"Where's Harry?" The question left her before she could shut her mouth.
She ignored Rose's weird look, keeping her eyes locked on her father.
"Already at the Blacks." Was his answer.
As she approached the trio, her mother lightly patted her head. "Ready, princess?"
Normally this would be her cue to jerk away from her, give a vague huff, and walk off without answering.
Instead, she stilled, giving her a hesitant smile. "Sure."
"Great." James clapped his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. "America…here we come!"
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To Harry's great annoyance, his worst fear did come true as the three families managed to reach the London station barely thirty minutes before their boarding time.
Even though the limousine ride failed to deliver a fun experience—what with the adults grumbling about anything they might've missed out (for wizards, they sure were a mundane bunch)—Harry was hoping their upcoming flight might make up for it.
Sure, it might not give him the thrill of being free in the air like his broom, but it should at least give the satisfaction of a new experience, right?
Wrong.
The moment they reached the airport, Harry realized his dream of a peaceful journey was all but gone. They'd arrived too late.
The threat of them all receiving boarding denials was all too real, and he suspected had they not been wizards they would've been going back home with their tickets in hand.
But they were wizards. And they also had special permission to fuck over muggles for this one instance—apparently Amelia Black was the head of DMLE, so it wasn't difficult for her to arrange it so—and so they checked in at the airport at the very last moment, something he was sure would've been simply impossible for others, especially on an international flight.
Then they skipped the luggage drop-off entirely, with the help of a couple notice-me-nots—he would be surely learning that later.
Honestly, Harry was very sure even their tickets were fake, and he had absolutely no recollection of making a passport. The overseas missions that he'd undertaken for both Shield and Hydra had always been in private jets and Helicopters.
He rather doubted the other kids had their passports made either, for his midget sister would surely blabber about it to anyone willing to hear.
Then there was the fact how… unique their entry was. With the knowledge that he retained from his Google searches, he knew airplanes were not some flying form of buses; you can't simply run up and take your seat at the last minute or exact time of departure. The agents had to give a final list of passengers, to calculate the weight and balance of the plane, and it all took time…
And yet, that is exactly what their group of eleven did as they clambered up the plane, adding their names in at the very last moment.
They were soon guided to the first-class section, taking in the plane's views excitedly like a bunch of hillbillies.
While he curled up in his seat like a ball of boredom, his companions seemed to be reveling in the muggle novelty. First class treatment provided them with the most luxurious experience one could ever receive on a plane, and his companions were all suitably awed.
"This is so cool!" Midget whispered beside him, a wide grin fixed upon her face since the moment she'd climbed inside the plane.
It was cool, Harry had to admit. He and Rose were sitting in a different compartment from adults, along with the other children. The seats provided to them were spacious and comfortable, almost like having a booth of their own.
Yet, it was no replacement for home. Mere four months ago he would've been thanking his system for such an arrangement—anything would've been better than huddling in a storm—yet now he found himself thoroughly unimpressed. Perhaps he'd gotten too used to comforts of the hearth but being confined in a box, no matter how luxurious, was not how he wished to spend his time.
'Would've been better if we'd just Apparated across the continents.'
Still, it wasn't as if he could blast a section of plane open and jump away. …Well, he could—especially with his firebolt sitting in the inventory—but he'd rather not.
There was nothing to do but sit back and relax as the plane soon took off from the ground. Rose looked mightily queasy, and he could've sworn he heard the sound of hurling over the pilot's instructions, but he soon shut his eyes and his mind, and let himself drift off to the comfort of the plane's gentle sway, hoping to wake up straight at the airport.