Chapter: Roots in the Dark
His room was small, but it was comfortable—soft bed, slightly squeaky frame, and the faint smell of laundry detergent mixed with rain drifting through the cracked window. He unpacked slowly, putting away clothes, stacking a few notebooks, and finally pulling out his old-looking 2006 laptop.
He stared at it.
Compared to his old world?
Primitive.
Sluggish.
Barely able to run more than a few programs at once.
But it worked.
He sat on the bed, booting it up. The fan wheezed like it was fighting for its life. The familiar dull glow lit his pale face, reflecting in his big watery eyes.
2006 meant a lot of things were missing.
No Fortnite.
No Elden Ring.
No streaming.
No modern tech.
Books he loved—unfinished or unreleased here.
Games nonexistent.
But there was opportunity.
He remembered the exact wording of the first chapters of Harry Potter, word for word, scene for scene. Ridiculous advantage? Absolutely.
He wasn't dumb enough to try making video games yet—coding was something he'd learn later, maybe when he actually understood this world's tech limitations.
But writing?
Writing he could do.
He opened a blank document and his fingers moved lazily but confidently across the keyboard. Soft taps filled the room as he wrote the opening lines—
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive…"
He got through the first few chapters easily, letting the memories carry him. It was oddly peaceful, sitting here as the rain pattered outside, crafting a story the world didn't know yet.
Then—
"Austin? Dinner!" Bella called from downstairs.
He saved the file and headed down.
Charlie had ordered pizza. Greasy, simple, perfect. They sat around the table—the three of them. Bella tried to ask Charlie about work. Charlie tried to ask Bella about Phoenix. Both looked like they were performing emotional gymnastics, unsure where to place their words.
He quietly ate his slice, watching them.
They weren't broken.
Just… awkward.
Trying.
The thought warmed him a bit.
After dinner, he washed his plate, murmured goodnight, and headed upstairs. Bella passed him in the hallway, offering a tired smile. "Long day, huh?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Night."
She padded off to her room.
He closed his door.
Waited.
Listened.
The house went quiet.
Then he moved.
His body softened—chakra shifting, muscles loosening, skin tingling with strange, plant-like energy. He pressed a hand to the wooden floor and felt the grain of it, the earth beneath it…
And sank.
Slowly.
Like melting into mud.
Holy…
A grin tugged at his lips as he passed through the ground silently.
It felt like slipping into warm water—instinctive, natural. But clumsy. The earth pushed back in places, his control wobbling.
Gotta practice.
Outside, beneath the house, under the soil, he pushed his chakra outward—
And three pale-white forms bubbled up from the dirt like seedlings sprouting.
White Zetsu clones.
Not perfect clones yet—soft, vague features, their bodies part plant, part humanoid. But functional.
"You three," he whispered, voice echoing strangely underground, "stay around the house. Keep watch. Listen. No moving unless needed."
They nodded silently and melted into the soil, merging with the earth like shadows dissolving.
Satisfied, he resurfaced inside the house, emerging quietly through the floor of his room.
He brushed off a few specks of dirt, grabbed his pajamas, and crawled into bed.
The sheets were warm.
The pillow soft.
His eyes drifted shut.
New world.
New powers.
New family.
New story.
And beneath the house, hidden in the earth, three pairs of eyes opened silently—watching. Waiting.
He fell asleep with a small, sleepy smile