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We may provide additional information that we have collected about you both directly and automatically to our partners. You know, the ones with the weird equipment-Well, weirder then usual? They found a way of opening portals to other dimensions-To other Universes!
Places that exist only in books, and-and movies, and TV, and, and comic books! It's just so mind blowing! He drifted in and out of sleep, as his cousin talked. The Harry Potter Universe. And please tell mom, and the rest of the family, that it was MY choice.
His demented relative not missed at all. At least, not until ten minutes later, when 'Ian' bolted upright in sober, wide-eyed alarm-Did his moron of a cousin say that he was going to use some experimental equipment on himself, to get to an imaginary world?!
Hastily, Ian put back on his running shoes, and grabbed his leather jacket from the chair he had dumped it on. Barely pausing to lock the apartment door, 'Ian' practically flew down the two flights of stairs, and hurled out into the street where his Dodge Charger was parked. The skin of the car was pitted over with enough dents and craters to compete with the moon, with rust making an aggressive effort to devour the steel skin of the vehicle; but the engine and other essential parts were well maintained and ran smoothly.
Fixing the body of the car, Ian figured, was a project for the future-A future where he had once had a good paying job! With a touch from its owner, the Charger leaped out of its parked position, and within an eye blink, was gone down the street. Gripping the steering wheel in hard, white knuckled fists 'Ian' prayed he was in time to prevent his incredibly stupid cousin from, at best, oh, getting them fired.
He gulped, when he considered that the worse could encompass three damn ugly possibilities: Prison time, long term hospitalization without insurance-because they were fired. A memorial stone in a corner of a cemetery somewhere, because body parts were too tiny and liquefied to salvage.
For a brief moment, 'Ian' had a morbid thought about who on the janitorial staff was going to draw the short end of the straw, and get to clean up the gory mess. If it seemed like 'Ian' was inflating the worse case scenario. No, 'Ian' had cleaned up enough lab accidents to justify his darker expectations. Rage crossed the young man's mind. Yet another crisis involving his cousin, made 'Ian' question whether the deal he made with his mother, to look after the fool, was worth the free two bedroom apartment-A nice place to live, while he went to school; while saving up his money for other stuff.
All he had to do in return was put up with an annoying, and irritating roommate, and make certain the moron stayed out of trouble! Never once in that deal did 'Ian' agree to become an ingredient in a modern day witches brew! At least, not that 'Ian' could remember. He pulled into the near empty parking lot, parked his car as close to the nearest entry door as he could get, turned off his lights and pulled the key out of the ignition.
Running back into the building he had left, no more then an hour earlier, 'Ian' barely nodded to the security guard on duty. Got my entire paycheck in there! Did my cousin come through here? He was supposed to find it for me, but he may be going to the wrong lab-Can you tell me where he went?
Down in the second sublevel! Hope you find it soon! His cousin's father had died when he had been very young boy. His uncle had been the victim of an angry neighbor armed with a eight inch kitchen knife; the neighbor had been pissed off because he had been told to go smoke in front of his place, instead of handing that toxic smoke over to his non-smoking neighbors.
Needless to say, his cousin, playing in the yard, got to see and hear it all. His cousin's mother, already suffering from heavy allergies and chronic asthma, added deep depression to the growing list.
She became neurotic, and burned through odd obsessions. Sadly and tragically, she eventually went to sleep, and never woke up again. Her autopsy revealed she died from an asthma attack in her sleep. That is how his cousin had landed officially and permanently in his family.
At least as far as the paperwork could finally say. Thanks to his mother's chronic illness, his cousin had been, more or less, a permanent presence in their house, living in the bedroom next to his, for years before his mother had passed on. Not that 'Ian' objected to his cousin-For years 'Ian' considered his cousin his brother.
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So, what changed 'brother' to 'moron', or 'idiot'? He got tired of constantly looking after, and cleaning up, after someone who should have been stronger. Instead, his cousin kept throwing himself one pity party after another. Never moving beyond the 'Poor Me' stage of things. Sure his cousin had a hard time-But, he was surrounded by family who wanted him, loved him, cherished and protected him. His mother had embraced her nephew as her own son, worked and sacrificed for him.
Damn, but did that ever backfire! Then, there was Harry Potter. Unlike other kids, 'Ian' had never fallen in love with the story. Becoming a rabid fanatic of the book and series. His aunt, sorry to say, indulged his interests, overlooking her nephew's new quirks-Like his obvious fake, and annoying, British accent.
The round, non-prescription, glasses he started wearing actually gave his cousin a funny expression. The only thoughts he did occasionally have on it, involved using it to strangle his cousin. One time when he had arrived home earlier then expected, 'Ian' had caught his cousin galloping around their shared apartment, with a broomstick between his legs. Now, his cousin had gone and found a possible way of making his fantasies into a reality!
Of course, the possibility remained that he could have simply found a new and inventive way of committing suicide; either way, 'Ian' had to stop the fool-Regardless of the outcome, his mother would be heartbroken.
The frozen stone in his stomach got colder and heavier, as he arrived at the lab door. The happy idiot was typing away at the computer console, and with a final, satisfied poke at one of the keys, 'Ian' assumed was Enter, the fool sprung up from the console chair he had been sitting in, and hurried to the center of the lab.
A spot clear of equipment and furniture, with lines and numbers painted on the floor. The few minutes left in the countdown were devoured by the fistfight between the cousins.
It took that long for Eddie to arrive with reinforcements-'Ian' stood, bleeding from his split lip, glaring at his cousin, held between two of the larger security guards on duty, forgetting where he was standing.
At least, until the countdown hit zero. Realization struck 'Ian' as he stared into his horror stricken cousin's face-A look 'Ian' was certain he shared.
Before 'Ian' disappeared in a bright light, he screamed out in rage-"Naruto kicks Potter's ass! His cousin should never have laid a finger on that equipment-One or two of them he optimistically hoped he had broken during the fight. He had appeared at the King's Crossing station, slightly before sunrise. Not surprising, not too many people were about that early in the morning. Ordinarily, any of the adults passing through that section of the station should have noticed a kid having a nervous breakdown-But, nah, apparently the Moron had taken precautions of the magical kind-At least, he assumed they were magical.
Allowing him enough time to get his twitching body under control, and then haul his skinny backside off to the nearest public rest room for a quick check on the damages. He headed straight for the mirrors over the sinks-And he really should not have been surprised at the child staring back at him.
A boy, who looked oddly familiar, with wild black hair, almond shaped green eyes, and a pointed chin-And no, he did not look like the actor, Daniel Radcliffe! The Evans, or the Potters? At least, not for the present moment! No, what mattered was how he was going to get back home-Back to his former height; back to those fun bits of his Yes, he knew without looking, how underdeveloped his eleven year old self was going to be in that area.
The young man turned young boy turned out his pockets, and looked through the backpack he had been unaware he had been wearing an expandable backpack, with notice-me-not and repellant charms on it. The stuff he cluttered the long sink counter with included his very ordinary passport, a copy of his birth certificate 'Ian' rolled his eyes up-California.
There was also a safety deposit key, something to look into later. The red velvet drawstring bag produced a total of FIVE golden Gringotts vault keys, and a vicious snarl from 'Ian' that a Goblin would have admired-If the Moron decided he had to be a descendant of Merlin. Oh, for Fuck's sake! The Moron just had to keep piling up the cliches! Until he checked, it was all speculation-Until he went to Gringotts anyway. The cash he was somewhat expecting.
So, sixty thousand dollars, not as bad as 'Ian' originally thought it might get-Honestly? With an expandable space to stash everything in, the Moron could have easily dumped a million in cash in there.
The same with the British pound notes, although there was an equal amount of dollars to pounds, 'Ian' took a wild guess that the conversion unit was about roughly two dollars for every pound. The fifty thousand francs was well out of his guessing range. Over all, 'Ian' was surprised at the Moron's restraint. The small leather pouch, clinking when it landed on the counter, merely made 'Ian' sigh-Absently, he wondered how much gold, silver, and bronze coins could a bag with expandable charms hold?
His wallet produced a student picture ID from his 'old' school, an ID card with his name, address, age Eleven! There was the expected cash, in small bills, in there-A hundred in American dollars, two hundred in British pounds. The last puzzled 'Ian' until he remembered the Moron keeping two Canadian dollars in his wallet, from the trip the family took to the Canadian side of Niagara falls, back when the Moron was ten.
In fact, they celebrated the fool's birthday over there-A pity they returned home with him. The two platinum credit cards in the wallet, was making 'Ian' feel a little nauseous.
He pulled out a photograph of his mom, himself, and the Moron. He stared at it for a moment, before carefully setting it on the counter. The thirteen and a half inch ebony wood stick, with a core of sea snake venom, drew 'Ian' attention, and the sickening realization that he KNEW what the thing was made of. For a long moment, 'Ian' stared at the wand. For some inexplicable reason a short snicker escaped him. He quickly cut it off.
His startled mind questioned.Daniel Radcliffe on 'Harry Potter' super fans and his new play
As 'Ian' continued to stare at the long piece of wood, it indirectly hit him-His cousin's insecurities. They extended to other area of his life. Ebony was a hard wood, right? Thirteen and a half inches. He involuntarily snickered again. Not that there was any real humor there at all, but for some reason, small feather touches of amusement encouraged a few, brief snickers.
A moment later, 'Ian' began chuckling, then laughing, and then cackling. Suddenly he noticed he was down on the floor, sobbing. Until, once again, he had to fight off the blazing hysteria threatening to burn through him. Reaching up 'Ian' grasped the counter's edge, and slowly pulled himself up.
Avoiding looking into the mirror, 'Ian' reached over the sink and turned on the cold water. As the water flowed down the spigot and splashed into the sink, 'Ian' cupped his hands together, pushed them under the stream of water and waited until they were over flowing before pulling his cupped hands back, and splashing his face with the water.
He repeated the action several times before he looked up into his mirror image-His hands clasping the side of the sink; blowing and gasping, water running down his nose, the sides of his face, and down the unfamiliar pointy chin.
Red rimmed green eyes burned with an inner flame-hot enough to make them glow slightly. Bloodless, tightly pressed lips made a thin, angry line under his nose. He stopped and glared for a final time at his mirror image, water drops and droplets distorting the reflection. Turning away, Ian quickly grabbed a few paper towels from a nearby dispenser and pressed and patted dry his face and head.
He dropped the wet wad of paper towels in a trashcan, and ambled back to the counter to collect his 'things'. He stared down for a moment at the three people in the photo. His hand shook slightly before he quickly folded the photo, pressed his thumb and pointer finger against the opposite sides of the new fold's edged and zipped up and down it until he had a good enough sharp crease. He unfolded the photo and carefully tore along the new crease.
The portion with himself and his mother in it he gently slid back into his wallet. The part with his cousin in it, Ian took to the nearest urinal. When the green eyed boy stepped out of the rest room, his face was set into hard lines. Revenge, 'Ian' decided with firm resolution, was about taking apart anything and everything that goddamn little bastard favored and love.
As fun as the peanut throwing was, a sudden glimpse of a head of black, wild hair, similar to his own, bobbing into view signaled the end of Ian's entertainment. The ex-college student, stood with his plastic bag of peanuts in his hands, staring at a boy that might have been his mirror image, barring the fact, that the boy was thinner, shorter, bespectacled, wearing oversized worn clothing. Ian smirked and launched one of his peanuts at the boy's head.
The boy, who could only have been Harry Potter, jerked his head around, staring at everything and everyone trying to find the culprit, his hand rubbing the stinging spot on his head where the peanut connected.