It had been two years.
Two long years since Harry had entered the dimensional portal to step foot into this world. After he had defeated the evilest Dark Lord in wizarding history, Lord Voldemort, he had had enough and wanted to start over. Few could blame him: he had lost nearly all his friends in the war.
Simply said, after Ron Weasley, the person Harry had viewed as a brother for over six years, abandoned the Golden Trio in a jealous fit over something the Boy Who Lived could never seem to understand, Harry and Hermione had begun investigating alternate ways to vanquish Voldemort. It had been then that Hermione found a way to help him: The Phoenix Ashes Ritual, which would grant amazing powers and abilities. Several times, the raven-haired teen wondered how the Dark Lord could have overlooked this.
First thing had been first: the two had to collect the . . . unique components. Fortunately, most of the ingredients had been easily obtained without alerting any Death Eaters or Voldemort, for that matter. The duo had quietly gathered the dragon scale, unicorn horn, Thestral tail hair, and salamander's blood. The hardest part had most likely been the phoenix tears, for neither friends had seen the Headmaster's bird since the old wizard's funeral.
Then, as if sensing their needs and thoughts focused on him, Fawkes had appeared in a flash of flames - just when they needed the beautiful bird most - and had offered what they wanted.
The ritual had been excruciating at first. So much power and energy was being poured into every fiber of his being. Oh, how he had begged for the pain to stop, surely death would have been better that what had transpired; this torture had been unlike anything Harry had felt before. He had been unaware of anything going on other than the pain, not even aware of his own blood-curling screams.
Suddenly, it had stopped. The young wizard had found himself on hands and knees, panting as though he had just run a marathon.
But they knew it had worked when Hermione had witnessed her friend preform wandless magic with ease. He had still practiced with a wand of course, but still, the warlock was more powerful than he had ever dreamed.
Sadly, Fawkes had not stayed and disappeared, that time for good.
After that ordeal, Hermione and Harry had continued to hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes, Ron had come back, and together the Golden Trio had destroyed Slytherin's Locket, ventured deep in Gringotts to steal Hufflepuff's Cup, snuck into the school to find Ravenclaw's Diadem, and the Battle of Hogwarts had begun.
When the battle had come to a close, and Hogwarts had come out victorious, it had truly been a marvelous occasion. However, the price had been very high. Countless students had died, and the raven-haired teen had lost nearly all his friends.
And Harry had not wanted to remain in a world surrounded by dead loved ones.
Luckily, the curly-haired brunette had seemed to understand her friend's pain. She had then actually helped him with the ritual to send him to another dimension after he had settled his affairs. Hermione had, however, insisted that he take all his wealth with him if he ever need it.
Of course, Harry had heeded her advice, seeing as he did not have a say-so anyway, so he had withdrawn the entirety of his gold from Gringotts and devised a way to carry all of it as well as enough food to last him at least a month. Along with the essentials, he had also carried some muggle clothes, robes, and various books of magic in case the new dimension had magic, and if he ever needed to use magic in said dimension.
With all his possessions in tow, the emerald-eyed teen had finally stepped through the portal . . .
. . . looked around . . .
And blinked.
This isn't so different.
Actually, it was not different at all, he had realized, as he had easily recognized London.
Harry had stayed silent as he pondered on the first order of business. He had needed to find a computer and research where he could sell his gold. He was not overly picky, but he had needed to find an honest dealer or a trustworthy bank. The jet black-haired wizard was extremely thankful that he had messed around with his cousin's computer a bit when he was younger and not completely eschewed technology like many Muggle-borns who entered the wizarding world. As it was, he had felt relatively comfortable that he could easily find what he needed without drawing attention to himself.
However, walking into the internet cafe had given the young wizard the first indication of something truly different about this dimension. The computers were not the big, bulky contraptions he remembered, but instead sleek and sharp. Also, upon logging in, he had found they also ran much faster than his cousin's.
That being said, it had not taken him long to find the best place to sell his gold. The place apparently had five stars from their customers, except it was in Sweden.
Harry had to use magic and Confund some muggles, but he had been able to get on a plane to Stockholm. Once there, he had staked out and, after a hasty transfiguration of his clothes into nicer ones, walked into the bank.
There had not appeared to be any real tellers, just a pseudo-receptionist at a front desk. The bank employee had seemed reluctant to believe Harry would be worth his time when the raven-haired teen approached and claimed he had gold to sell. This had rapidly changed when he had pulled out ten gold bricks, and an appraiser had been quickly summoned.
They had swiftly and efficiently examined and preformed tests to determine that the gold was not only real, but its fineness had been of almost nine hundred ninety-five, or twenty-four karat quality; so they had agreed on a settlement price. Harry did not have to snoop around or do another background check to know security there had been tight. Anyways, after settling for about six million dollars, the warlock had set up an armored car to "retrieve" the rest of his gold. He had needed about ten of them, but he had been able to get them squared away, although he did have to use magic to Confund them into doing so.
Two weeks later, Harry had a bank account with over thirty billion dollars in his name.
After that, he had decided to travel the world like he had never been able to in his home dimension. However, he had never stayed in one place for long, but just enough to enjoy the different countries and their cultures.
With a little more than a two years' worth of travel under his belt, the now young man was finally searching for a place to settle down and re-wind.
***
"Please take your belongings with you as you disembark from the plane," a voice reminded over the loudspeaker, causing Harry to jolt awake.
The Boy-Who-Lived glanced around and realized the other passengers were already standing up and grabbing their things.
He yawned, slowly getting up and stretching out his legs and arms from their protracted inactivity. He was pretty sure he slept through most of the eight-hour-long plane ride.
Harry then snatched his backpack, his only luggage, as he stood in line with everyone else to disembark the plane.
He remained silent as he strode past the lady at his gate's counter and continued, following the signs for the exit. The messy black-haired young man noticed that many of his fellow passengers were heading to their baggage area to collect their belongings. Harry found himself very grateful he did not have to wait for his stuff. He had heard stories of how luggage had not arrived, or worse, ended up in another country. How muggles lived without magic quite frankly astonished him sometimes. Technically, he might have grown up that way, but he still had never really went anywhere beyond the Dursley's house, Hogwarts, and his old school before stepping through that portal.
As Harry stepped outside, he could not help but notice how rainy and wet the east coast of the United States was. He got into one of the waiting cabs and plopped his bag down.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, a wrinkly man with dark greying hair and withered brown eyes.
"A hotel in downtown Manhattan," the warlock replied nonchalantly.
"Can you be more specific?"
"Just the best place you can think of." Harry of course had no reservation for any hotel, but he could easily get one.
The cab driver peered at him strangely through the rear view mirror, his wrinkles creasing, before looking away, shrugging his shoulders and driving the two of them away into the rain.
Silence reined in the cab as the driver drove them into New York City: The City That Never Sleeps. Harry would have never seen himself ever coming to this city when he was younger . . . but then again, he had never imagined moving to a new world.
With his mind drifting all over the place, the emerald-eyed young man arrived at the Roosevelt Hotel without paying attention to most of the trip. He stepped out of the cab and paid the driver a hundred before striding through the entryway of the imposing building.
Harry remained silent as the doorman welcomed him inside and walked up to the front desk.
"Hello. I would like to rent a room for a couple of nights," the Defeater of Voldemort greeted in a polite tone.
A lady with poufy white-blonde hair and baby blue eyes peered at him over her glasses. "Do you have a reservation?" she inquired.
"I'm afraid I don't," replied Harry.
"Are you staying with anyone or are you by yourself?" continued she.
"I'm by myself. The room doesn't have to be fancy, just a single will work," the young man answered.
The woman nodded in affirmation and typed a bit on her computer.
"We do have a room available. It will cost you over two hundred a night," she informed him.
"That's fine," reassured Harry, pulling out his credit card. "Put me down for two nights, please."
The blonde swiped the card and it went through without any trouble.
"Room two hundred seventy-eight. Please enjoy your stay with us," she said, a pleasant smile on her face as she handed the wizard his keycard. He took it and strode over to the elevator.
It was then that Harry caught intriguing whispers.
"Sir, he's got Room two hundred seventy-eight."
The warlock said nothing, but listened hard for anything else. When he turned his head slightly to the left, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman in a suit walking up in precise steps up to the counter.
"Room two hundred thirty-eight. Please enjoy your stay with us," said the lady as she handed the woman a keycard. The woman waltzed toward him as the elevator dinged open. As Harry began to enter, the woman started running.
"Wait!" she called as the woman approached. The doors had yet to shut, so she boarded easily without any action on Harry's part.
"Thanks for waiting," she said as she pressed the fifth floor button.
Then silence claimed the elevator. Her blonde hair trickled down her shoulders, and although she was a bit shorter than Harry, she definitely had a great beauty about her.
"So, is this your first time in New York?" she asked, breaking the awkward quiet.
"It is," the raven-haired wizard slowly answered, unsure of where this was going.
"Then let me be the first to give you some advice," continued the woman. "This place tends to be busy all the time."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said kindly, mindfully hiding his wariness.
She smiled up at him, her pristine and straight white teeth gleaming in the light of the elevator. "I'm Kate," she introduced; however, Harry's Legilimency (mind-reading spell) told him she was lying.
"Harry," was all he said in response, knowing he could not think of a better name to use. After all, he had no reason to hide who he was anyway.
The elevator then dinged open again, and the two stepped out. The dark-haired young man said nothing more to the woman as he strode briskly towards his room.
Before turning towards his door, he caught the woman saying, "I hope to catch you around," before they parted ways.
Harry wordlessly opened the dark wood door and entered. The moment he did so, he placed a locking spell on the door to ensure she could not come in in the middle of the night. He then sauntered over to the wide window and stared out over the bustling city. The dark rain had made visibility so low for a normal person that it was nearly impossible to see anything, but thanks to his massively ritual-improved eyesight, he could see through the darkness as if it were broad daylight; he could also zoom in and out to great distances, much like a hawk or eagle.
This was how he saw, quite easily, the survey team hiding across the street in a room with its lights out, watching him.
Harry sighed tiredly. As far as he knew, he had not done anything to grab anyone's attention, and as far as he was concerned, he was just a simple tourist looking to settle down.
So the warlock, not giving any outward indication that he knew of the team's presence, closed the blinds and went to his bag. He removed his suit and stuffed it into the pack. He washed his face before turning around and collapsing onto the bed. Harry was not sure when, but he was quickly enveloped in the pleasant darkness of slumber.