Written for two challenges at Caesar's Palace: Challenges by the Dozen (level 7: write a 7-shot that you update every seven days), and Four Elements Challenge.

That's right, this story will be updated every Sunday.

Also, this was originally posted on my main, but I'm moving it here.

Harry Potter had never been outside of Great Britain, and he reminded himself of this when he approached the teller in the booth and said that he would like, yes, one portkey, please, to China, preferably.

The woman didn't spare him a glance as she slid him his visa. Hermione had done excellent research, as usual, to find a travel agency that celebrities held in high regard. The name Harry Potter was spelled in gold letters at the top of his form, and he didn't know how she could have missed it, especially when he handed over his passport with his picture (and his scar) big enough for a blind man to see. He looked a little scruffy in the photo, even though Hermione had insisted that he dress nicely (these passports last for years, Harry!), and his lips were pulled into a reluctant and grim smile. He felt his feet itching to get out of this office. It wasn't his idea to go on another adventure; he'd had enough adventure to last the rest of his life, thank you very much.

"Is that all, Mr. Potter?" the woman said amicably. "Just a portkey?"

Harry looked up from the brochure that he had been leafing through. "Sorry?"

"No translating charms, or clothing to fit in? No glamours?"

Harry shook his head. "No, thank you." He intended to do the glamours by himself, and he had a small book titled, Common Chinese Words and Phrases (Wizards and Witches Edition), in his bag. It's more of an authentic experience to feel that helplessness of being immersed in a foreign language, than the experience of having a translation charm cast, you know?

"All right, Mr. Potter. Here's where you'll be staying for the first three nights. This hotel is a five star hotel, and you've the Master Suite. Every day, your translator will meet you in the lobby and take you to the different attractions in the city. After that you'll take another portkey to Yun Nan…"

Harry nodded along soundlessly, wondering why on earth Hermione thought this was a good idea.

"This portkey will take you to the bottom of the mountain. Have a safe trip!" She chirped.

"You too," Harry replied, before cringing and unwrapping the portkey.

Harry's stomach churned upon landing. No matter how many times he had all of his atoms taken apart and put back together, he just couldn't get used to it. He had left London in the afternoon, so nothing was visible save for a few lanterns. "So this is Yellow Mountain, huh? What a beauty."

He supposed that it would be dangerous to apparate now, since he had no idea where he was going, and the visitors center that he was portkeyed next to was closed. Fitting, since it seemed to be…he cast a tempus charm...4 in the morning.

"Well," he said to himself, a bit ruffled. "I suppose this would be a good time to try the goh-yah thing that Hermione is always going on about."

She had invited him to join her on a few of her trips to the local yoga studio, but he had politely declined each time. After Hermione had introduced him to her mind healer and that meeting went very awry, he wasn't sure what recommendations he thought would fit him. Plus, he much preferred to stay in his his bed at Grimmauld Place place and exist in a cocoon of his own reality.

He used to listen to the radio throughout the day just to have some noise (the silence of the house unsettled him at first), but after the talk show hosts started to interview war heroes and ask them the most insensitive questions, he wasn't in the mood to hear anything. Occasionally, he would turn on the music station and hear some cheery witch chirp a song:

You came back once

And left me twice.

But that's all right,

That's really all right.

Because I am stronger than your petty games

And the words you left inside my brain

That are screaming, screaming for me

To get a move on.

And he found that song quite unattractive. So it went that he spent all day under the covers, sleeping some, staring at the ceiling some.

He moved his stomach in and out, focusing on the breath traveling from his core to his nose. He knew he wasn't doing a very good job of meditating if he was thinking about all of these things, but he didn't feel very excited about sitting here in the dark until the shop opened.

"Ah, fuck it," he mumbled, eventually. He got up from his cross-legged position on the ground and opened up Common Chinese Words and Phrases (Wizards and Witches Edition) to a random page. A painting of three, stern wizards graced the page, each dressed with traditional Chinese garb and hair. They were three brilliant wizards who were among the first wandmakers in the world. These wands weren't sophisticated, or really wands in the traditional sense. Beads carved and smoothed from the wood of blessed bonsai trees were good conductors of magical current, and they used these beads on necklaces and bracelets to cast healing spells. Unsurprisingly, as Confucian schooling became a norm throughout wealthier Chinese cities, some of them were wizarding schools, and these three were educated there.

Harry shook his head, marvelling at the number of things he never knew. Given, he'd been fighting a war, but Hogwarts' history of magic seemed rather limited to Europe. It was surprising to hear that other places had advanced this far, as well, and even farther than Europe had at the time.

"Ni Hao - hello, informal. Nin Hao - formal." Harry read these words aloud, fitting the words between his teeth and tongue. "Nee how. Whoa shang yow pee jew." He cringed. Of course his accent would be horrible. But learning how to order beer was definitely an important skill that he'd need to utilize multiple times during his stay.

The hour passed quickly, and soon the May sun was peeking over the horizon. Maybe fifty other tourists had passed him already; sunrises at this place where very popular, apparently.

Not long after, the owner of the tourist shop came to open shop.

Harry groaned, shaking his legs in a very much needed stretch and climbed to his feet. Yellow mountain was gorgeous in the mornings, yes, but he really would have rather spent the night in a hotel.

"Could you by any chance direct me to the hotel?" Harry asked.

The man handed over a portkey. "Have a good stay."

Harry hoped he would.

Harry entered the lobby and checked in, feeling more tired than he had been when he got portkeyed to the hotel. He didn't know that he'd be the type to get tired during travel, but then again the last time he has done any extensive road tripping he'd been on a horcrux hunt. Harry looked around him. It looked like the hotel was a Wizarding one, since he saw a few quidditch players eating breakfast (sporting their club jackets, of course), and...was that the prime minister of England?

Harry sat his things down in the dining area and was looking over the drinks menu when a familiar (and grating voice) sounded nearby.