Hey! Listen, I know I will receive either reviews or flames regarding this topic, but you may see some similarities between my story and another by S.S. IDGIT called Finding Himself (which I HIGHLY recommend, by the way. WONDERFUL story!). There will be many differences in our stories….many, many differences. But there will also be many similarities. So, no calling me a plagiarist, because I hate them! And any and all flames you may send me saying my story sucks--well, I hope you have a flame-proof house! .

Disclaimer: I don't own these things: Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling

But I do own the store that I use in this story called Club Obsidian. I made this store up on my own. NO STEALING! If you want to use it, ask for permission first, please.

So, there's my disclaimer. I am never going to repeat it, so don't expect me to. I hope you enjoy my story; I will be working very hard on it. Cheerio! God, I can't believe I just said that. (Goes off and beats head against a brick wall) Okay, that hurt. Also, I did my research on this story, so all of the flight times and stuff like that are true. My dad travels a lot, so he knows this kind of stuff.

I also know that I'm not following the HP timeline correctly but I don't really know the timeline there. So please bear with me.

What Happens In LA Stays In LA

Chapter One: Escaping from Hell

July 1, 2006

Anyone that would have looked on the street of Privet Drive, Surrey would have never seen anything out of the ordinary.

All they would have seen would have been identical square-shaped houses, emerald green gardens, beautifully planted gardens of flowers, shining and expensive cars, and normal families that were too nosy for their own goods. Except for one certain house.

Number Four, Privet Drive was as quiet as normal…given the fact that the Dursley's weren't yelling at their nephew for once and just leaving him alone. Of course, that would be credited to the fact that the Dursley's weren't even home.

They had left for a vacation the minute Dudley had been let out of school and wouldn't be back for the next two weeks, making Harry have to call a cab to get to Number 4 Privet Drive and find out that he'd be living on his own for quite a while via a note left on the kitchen table telling him to not blow the house up and not to eat anymore than Petunia would normally give him.

As promised, Harry Potter had been sending a letter to the Order of the Phoenix every four days. It was a monotonous summer as of late, each day blending into another, not proving any relief to the feeling of pain in his heart. Of course, he'd only been 'home' for about a week…

Harold Zachariah James Potter, a.k.a. Harry James Potter (Hey, that's a hard name to remember! Wouldn't you shorten it?) was, in one word, depressed.

Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and best friend, was dead, never to return.

Harry had been pouring over every single one of his school books, (even Hogwarts, a History…which actually proved to be a very interesting read…heaven forbid that Hermione found out he said that.) to find a spell or some instance that someone had been brought back from behind the Veil.

So far, he had had no such luck.

The Order of the Phoenix, according to the letter that Remus Lupin had sent him, was to come and pick him up on Saturday.

It was Monday. This was going to be one very long week.

Of course, what kind of guardians would they be if they didn't keep an eye on him twenty-four seven?

Harry looked out his window, just in time to see Tonks and Snape switch guards.

He sighed. With the way all of this was going, he would never be able to calm down in the house of the Dursley's. Especially since no one but him knew that the Dursley's weren't home.

He didn't know how much more of this torture he could take.

Harry was brought out of his self-induced reverie when something landed on his head.

Emerald eyes looked up through his glasses, and saw snow-white feathers. Hedwig.

"Oh, hey Hedwig. What do you have there?" Harry removed a letter from her beak, allowing her to return to her cage on his dresser.

On the front was the usual stuff. Mr. Harry J. Potter, 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, etc. etc.

It was the return address that shocked him.

It was from Gringott's Wizard Bank.

Harry tore open the letter, unfolded the neatly folded white parchment, and began to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to our attention that Mr. Sirius Orion Black is now dead. The reading of his will is to occur on the 15th of July, inside the Obsidian Room, at precisely two o'clock. If you are not at the Obsidian Room by precisely two o'clock, you will be taken out of Mr. Sirius Orion Black's will, and the belongings and capital that were to go to you, will be redistributed. The letter has been transformed into a Portkey and shall take you to Gringotts at the appointed time.

Griphook

Griphook

Chief undersecretary of Gringotts Wizard Bank

'Well, that's quite an unexpected surprise…Okay…Two today.' Harry sighed. "Thanks, Hedwig. At least I know I can always count on you." He pet the soft feathers of his most trusted friend.

She hooted quietly, and then went back into her cage.

After a few hours of keeping himself entertained around the house, Harry returned to his room and looked at the foreboding looking piece of parchment on his messy bed.

Okay, Harry…it's not a basilisk…just pick it up. Harry looked at his watch. 13:59:24. (His watch runs on a 24-hour time.)

Harry picked up the 'innocent' parchment, and held his breath.

30….35…50…56…59…14:00!

Harry felt that familiar tug at his naval, and he was thrust forward into a familiar whirlwind of color.

A minute later, he landed with a hard thud on the white and black marble of Gringott's Wizard Bank.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. It's nice to see you on time." Said Griphook, a goblin that was almost Harry's friend and also the one who had sent Harry his letter.

"Oh, hullo Grip!" Harry pulled himself off the floor and straightened his thrown-askew glasses. "Well…shall we?"

Griphook led Harry into the 'Obsidian Room.'

This was where all Wizarding Wills were read. Of course, wills' weren't written. They were videos. Or, the wizard equivalent of a video.

Harry sat down, noticing that only a few other people were there.

"Moony!" Harry grinned and hugged his teacher/friend.

"Hello, Harry. My, you seem to be in good spirits."

"Well, Sirius always said 'Gloominess is boring!' and he always said I've been a little too gloomy since fourth year, so…I'm lightening up! Wheee!" Harry's last outburst was sarcastic to say the least and not to mention loud.

Remus Lupin laughed. His best friend's son always made him laugh. And worry.

But, that was what was so endearing about the young man. He was so…unpredictable. He could be happy and bouncy one minute…then he acts like the worlds' at its wit's end!

Griphook stood in front of the small group that had gathered.

This included Albus Dumbledore, the Weasleys, and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

"We are all here today to read the will of one Sirius Orion Black."

He pulled out a small box and placed it on the ground. He then opened it.

A full-sized projection of Sirius appeared, smiling.

Hello! If you're hearing this, then either I've kicked the bucket, or Remus has been going through my closet again. I told you to stay out of there!

Everyone laughed. Sirius hadn't lost his sense of humor.

Now, on to business. I have left everything in my owning to two people. And only two.

Remus J. Lupin, my best friend, shall receive my entire fortune of the Black family.

Said werewolves' jaw dropped. That was a lot of money!

And, everything else will go to my Godson, Harold Zachariah James Potter. Bloody Hell, who came up with your name, Harry? Oh, yeah…me. You can kill me when you get to Hell. Anyway, that means that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black goes to Harry…the rest of what he will be receiving is in the letter in the box. Make sure he gets it. Oh, and Harry! I hope you get a girlfriend soon, we're all starting to think you're queer as a three pound note!

Harry groaned. He just had to bring up the subject of Harry's date-less-ness again!

And don't you groan at me, young man! Also, one more huge surprise for my Godson!

I, Sirius Orion Black, do hereby state that Harry James Potter will be considered as a legal adult and may use his magic whenever he so chooses. Poor boy has been through enough as it is. Also, with the attacks that I know will have been going on recently, then he'll be needing it. If anyone's got a problem with it, commit suicide and then I'll beat the bloody pulp outta ya!

Well…I know that everyone has better things to do than listen to me prattle on. Now, get going before I start singing 'It's Raining Men!'

Oh, and…Harry? Everybody? Don't forget…I love you all. You're all the family I've got left. Good-bye. And may Merlin help you if I find out anybody cried over me!

The projection disappeared, and Griphook took out a letter, he handed it to Harry.

"Here, Mr. Potter. This is yours."

"Th-Thank you, Griphook. I'd best be going now."

After saying a million-and-two hello's and good-bye, Harry was finally able to return to Number Four Privet Drive.

Courtesy of the Fireplace Death-Trap….a.k.a., Floo Powder.

Thankfully the Dursley's had gone out for a business dinner.

Well, guess I should open it now.

Harry sat down in the living room of the Dursley household, and tore open the letter.

Inside was a piece of parchment and a ring.

Dear Harry,

I know you didn't really get to know me. And we didn't get to become as close as I'd hoped. I really hope you'll be able to get over me being gone. I don't want you to forget me, and always know that I'm here. Corny as that may sound! But, I've left these estates in your care! You'd better take care of at least one of them.

Black Family Estates in Belgium, Ireland, Liverpool, Bath, and Los Angeles.

I hope that you can stay in at least one of these, Harry. Oh, the L.A. one is my favorite! There's a beach and everything. It's very Muggle-ish though, with all kinds of appliances. That's why my parents didn't like it.

There should be house-elves in each one. Have fun, Harry! And don't forget, when in doubt, runaway! I know that you're confused about things right now. You're going to be sixteen soon. And you're probably asking yourself 'Who am I?' You'd probably answer 'I'm Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, and the boy who has to kill Moldy-shorts…I mean, Voldemort.' But Harry, that's WHAT you are. Not who you are. Please, Harry. Do me a favor and try to find yourself soon. You can't defeat Voldemort unless you understand yourself.

If need be, you could leave England. Escape the people who label you as what they think you ought to be. Go where people don't know you, and try to find out who you are Harry. This is the only request I'll make of you.

All the love in the world, Harry!

Sirius Black

P.S.

Oh, if you're planning on going anywhere this summer. Then…go to the one in L.A.! No one knows about it. Not even Remus! Go there to sort everything out! But make sure to at least tell someone that you're gone. Wait, what am I talking about? Knowing that people are pulling their hair out is half the fun! Forget what I said! Just go! And try to find a girlfriend, ya bloody plonker!

P.P.S

Oh, and the Ring will transport you to whichever estate you want. Thing is, you've gotta be in that country to do it. Sorry, but they just couldn't make it easy.

The initials of each estate are engraved in the rings inside. In hieroglyphics. You know I can't make things easy. Oh, don't fret! I made translations on the back of the parchment! Now get going! I love you. No matter how much of an idiot you are.

Harry blinked, then grinned. His godfather knew him too damned well. Thank you, Sirius! But I feel I should be insulted because of the idiot remark. He's the idiot. Not me.

Harry looked at the ring. "Whoa…"

There, right in the middle, was a beautiful tigers' eye. Perfectly cut in the shape of a slit cat's eye. A small garnet graced each tip of the gem, accenting the black gold of the ring.

Harry fit it on his ring finger, only to find that it fit perfectly.

Should I follow Sirius's advice? I mean, sure, that is one of the questions I've been asking myself over the summer. But…where would I go? I mean, where do people not know me? How can I escape from the Order of the Burnt Turkey? My Apparation sucks, so that's definitely out of the question.

The it hit him. Well, I could use the airport. I mean, I'm sure that I have more than enough for a one-way trip for the summer to…somewhere.

Harry looked back at the letter, re-reading it yet again. So, Sirius says that the one in LA would be best. Well, he's hardly been wrong before. I think I should take his advice. Sure, it's reckless, but it's something that I guess Sirius and my father would do. And since I'm so like them as everyone says, I'm to do what they'd do…right? Well, I'm not like them in every way, but I'd have to agree with Sirius on this. LA, here I come. Though I know this isn't going to be easy.

Harry raced up the stairs and threw everything he owned into his trunk, but turned to Hedwig when he got to her cage.

"Hey, Hedwig…do you think you could fly to America? I'll meet you there."

Hedwig hooted, then nipped his hand twice. That was a yes.

"Good girl. I'll see you there." He let her out of her cage, and watched as she flew off into the sky, disappearing swiftly.

I'll see you in L.A. Hedwig.

Harry pressed a button on his trunk that Tonks had installed before he left, and it shrank to the size of a doll-house accessory.

Thank you, Tonks!

He slipped the piece into his pocket, making sure that everything was in there first.

Hell, Tonks even taught me how to shrink my damn broom. Harry smiled as he looked at the miniature broomstick on his chain necklace.

He pulled out the paper from his pocket, and looked at it.

Okay…so, a squiggle means Belgium, a decapitated stickman means Ireland, a constipated eagle means Liverpool, a cat that looks like it was drawn by a kindergartner on Crystal Methamphetamine means Bath, and an ankh Los Angeles. Cool.

Harry took off his ring and found the ankh, which looked like a Christian cross, just with a noose-like hoop at the top with a hole in the middle.

Harry sighed and looked at his watch. Four o'clock…if I leave now I could be there by morning I think… He groaned. But I'll have to exchange my wizard money to muggle money…and American. Shit. Well, to Gringott's I go!

Harry pulled out a parchment on a whim and scribbled down.

I'm leaving. I'll be back next summer. Don't worry. I'll try to get killed. Just kidding!

Harry

He smiled, satisfied with what he had written. That'll reassure them. Not!

Harry looked down the street, only to see Snape disappear. According to what he'd learned over the summer, it was Mundungus's turn next. And he was always at least ten minutes late. He'd better hurry.

Harry stepped out of the house, and held out his wand.

Harry had to jump to the side as a giant, triple-decker, sickeningly purple bus came around the corner and nearly ran him over.

"Welcome to the…"

Harry stopped Stan. "Stan, I know the speech already."

"Oy, 'Arry Po'er! Where's abouts you 'eaded?"

"Diagon Alley, Stan. And please make it quick." Harry jumped onto the bus, but decided to just hold onto the metal bars that hung around the ceiling above the rickety seats that liked to fly this way and that.

After a couple of falls, five traffic accidents, four hospitalized pedestrians, seven crashes, and a few headaches on Harry's part…they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Here, Leaky Cauldron. See ya la'er Mr. Po'er!" Stan waved him off.

"G'bye." Harry stepped off the bus, clutching his head. That bus is a death trap!

The boy stepped through the bar, finally unnoticed since now it was a bit of a rush hour, and pressed the third brick up from the trashcan.

Finally, he was able to enter Diagon Alley.

He ignored the stares and whispers he received as he made his way down the crowded street towards the white marble building he had left just a few hours ago.

Harry sighed and stepped up to Griphook's station.

"Hello, Grip."

"Why, good afternoon, Mr. Potter. What can I do for you, today?"

"Listen, I need to transfer some of my money to muggle stuff, kay? A little British, the rest American."

"About how much would that amount be, sir?"

"300 pounds British…and about $2000 American. Damn, I'll need a way to buy stuff while I'm there…"

"We could give you a bank account sir, to where you are going. And a credit card might help you."

"That would be great Grip. You really are a great help."

Griphook disappeared for a few minutes, then popped back up, carrying said amounts of money in neat stacks. A lot of stuff.

"Okay, sir. We'll need you to sign here for your credit card and bank account, and…might I ask where you are going sir?"

"On a vacation, Grip. A long-needed vacation."

"Well, good luck sir. I hope you have fun."

"Well, later, Grip! Oh, and don't tell anyone I was here!"

"Not a word, Mr. Potter. Not a word." After Harry left, Griphook shook his head. "Strange boy's going to get himself killed one of these days, and not by Voldemort."

Harry looked around at the busy Muggle street around him.

He whistled. "Taxi!"

The yellow and black car stopped. "Where to, sir?" asked a man in his mid-thirties, wearing the usual cabbie cap.

"London International Airport please."

"Right-o, then sir!" (And yes, cabbies really do speak like that. I should know, I was in one.)

Harry whistled as the cab weaved in and out of traffic.

"So, sir, whereabouts you headed?"

"America."

"Wow…nice choice. Very nice place, America. Locals ain't too friendly, though."

"From what I've heard, you're right."

"Here we are, LIA."

"Thank you. How much?"

"Twenty."

"Okay." Harry took out the designated amount, but added an extra five.

"Thank you, sir." The cabby tipped his hat at Harry, then left.

"Well, here I go." And he stepped into the large airport.

Harry managed to weave his way in and out of the bustling people and stood in a line for tickets. Before he had left, he had found and 'borrowed' Dudley's passport and had placed his own picture in place of it. (Sneaky little bugger, isn't he?)

"Next person, please?"

Harry stepped forward, and smiled at the girl behind the counter.

"Hi, I need a ticket to Los Angeles."

"When, sir?"

"Today, please."

"Sir, the closest flight leaves in an hour, 6:00. You'll need to make a stop in New York first, then re-board a different plane to go to Los Angeles. Is that okay with you, sir?"

"That's just fine."

"Fine, may I see your passport, sir?"

Harry handed it over, thankful he had changed the name as well. Couldn't walk around with the name 'Dudley Dursley', now could he?

"Well, that seems to be in order. Here's your ticket sir. That would be 2,000 pounds."

Harry handed over his credit card, and typed in the key.

"There we go, sir. And you have a nice day!"

"I will, thank you!"

Harry looked at his ticket. "Okay, Terminal 24 F…leaving in one hour." Harry looked around, and after nearly fifteen minutes, found the 24 F terminal. He still had about 45 minutes until his plane left, so Harry walked into a Walden Books/Starbucks coffee he had seen across from his terminal.

He looked around and picked up a book called Dhampir by Barb and J.C. Hendee. (If you have never heard of this book, you SO have to read it! It rocks!)

Harry looked at the back, reading the summary.

She hunts the realm's most dangerous game.

Her fees are exorbitant.

She's worth every coin she receives.

Or is she?

Magiere has earned a reputation as the most formidable vampire slayer in the land. Villagers far and wide welcome her with both awe and disdain, grateful to her for ridding their towns of the undead menace, but finding themselves made poorer for their salvation. Magiere has always known she's dealing with simple folk who only wish to have their superstitions silenced, and she's never seen anything wrong with exploiting them for profit.

Now, tired of the game, Magiere and her partner, the half-elf Leesil, are ready to hang up their weapons and settle down in a place they can finally call home. But their newfound peace will not last. For Magiere has come to the attention of a trio of powerful and dangerous vampires who recognize her true identity—and who fear the birthright that flows through her veins. And they will stop at nothing to keep Magiere from fulfilling her destiny.

Hm…this seems like a nice book. He noticed how thick it was, meaning it would last him a while. Hopefully it would last the flight.

Harry looked around again, only to see that the book in his hand had three other additions. Thief of Lives, Sister of the Dead and Traitor to the Blood. All were equally as thick, if not more.

Guess I'll have some reading to do this summer.

Harry walked up to the counter, placing his books on the counter.

"Hey, can I get you anything else, today?" asked the mid-twenties man behind the counter.

"Uh…I'd like a Venti White Chocolate Mocha, and a large cinnamon roll."

"Hungry?"

Harry's stomach growled. He blushed in embarrassment.

"I'll take that as an answer." The man laughed. "And your total comes to…25.96 pounds." (What's so fun about England is, they don't add tax. So you just have to worry about the actual price without adding anything. Damn, why can't America be like that!)

Harry pulled out his wad of money and counted out three tens. "Here."

"Okay…" the man handed back his change, "And you have a nice day."

"You too."

Harry grabbed his stuff and walked out to his terminal, taking a seat. That little escapade had taken about twenty minutes out of his waiting time, so he had a little less than half an hour left.

With nothing left to do, Harry pulled out Dhampir, and started reading.

After fifteen minutes of reading, an intercom made him jump.

"Flight 7702, London to New York, now boarding!"

Harry sighed, placing a bookmark in his book and getting up. He strode over to the lady at the desk, showing her his ticket.

"Okay, sir. You'll be in First Class, seat C 34. Thank you and have a nice flight."

Harry nodded, walking down the noisy walkway they had connected to the airplane. Harry finally found his seat, and since he didn't have to put any bags away, he just sat down on the outer seat.

A few minutes later, a woman came through. "Excuse me…but may I get through?"

Harry looked up. "Oh, sorry." He got up and let her through after she placed her bag in the overhead compartment.

She slipped past him and sat in the window seat, getting comfortable.

Harry sat down next to her, pulling his book back out.

"I'm Lalaine Henderson." She held out her hand.

"Oh…James Evans." Harry gave her the first name he could think of. His middle name mixed with his mother's maiden name. What was the use of trying to get away from the wizarding world when everyone knew your name all over the world?

"Well, it's nice to meet you, James." she smiled. "So, where are you going?"

"LA."

"Oh, I'm going to New York to visit family."

"Cool." He went back to his book, fully intent on ignoring the rest of the world for the eight-hour flight to New York.

Harry sighed, putting up his food tray as the alert came out that they were landing in New York International Airport.

Harry buckled up his seatbelt, putting away his book. He held on tight for the turbulence he now knew was coming from the warning from Lalaine. Apparently she flew a lot. Hell, some of the attendants knew her by first name.

It didn't hurt that her husband was the captain of the plane.

"We have now landed in New York International Airport. We hope you enjoyed your flight on Delta Airlines. Please fly with us again."

Harry pushed himself out of his seat, getting off the plane. He headed to a waiting area, looking at his ticket. His plane left at 9:15 pm.

His plane was supposed to have been boarding now, but…

"Flight 9083 from New York to Los Angeles has been postponed due to engine trouble, and will now leave tomorrow morning at eight in the morning. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned. Getting postponed in a foreign country wasn't fun.

An attendant came up to him. "Uh, sir? Were you supposed to be on the flight that just got postponed?"

"Yes. Uh…Sorry if I seem irritated. I'm not in the best of moods right now. It's two in the morning where I come from."

"Oh. Well, sir, we'd be happy to put you up in our airport hotel for the night. We're very sorry about the inconvenience sir."

"It's just fine. Don't worry about it."

The attendant led him and a couple of other people who were going to be on his flight the next day to a hotel.

They all thanked her, and headed off to get their rooms.

Harry asked for a simple room. Just one bed and a shower with a TV. That would work for him for the night.

Hopefully his next flight wouldn't be so…weird.

A/N: Well, that's it for now. And yes, all chapters will be that long or longer, so it will take me a while to update it. Hope you enjoyed it and please review!