He was lost. Lost in the sprawling metropolis that was New York city. By the odour in the air, he would say he was in a wretched sewer, but by the sights around him he was quite certain he was in a dark alleyway surrounded by brick walls at every side. How in Merlin's name he found his way into an enclosed area unintentionally, he did not know, but Harry was beginning to realise that foreign travel was surprisingly difficult. When he tried to make his way to the bazaar in Cairo, he found himself at the end of two wands, both being wielded by a pair of, most likely deceased, religious fanatics. When he attempted to travel to one of South America's famed beaches, he found himself in the middle of a dense jungle staring at a carven stone totem which appeared to have some degree of sentience. The point was, when he was trying to get to the Museum of American Magical Activity, he found himself in a dank alley way without a clue as to where he was, how he got here, or whether or not he would give up on using his resourcefulness and intelligence to get him out his present predicament and simply apparate to a registered apparation transit facility. He did recall the one in Chelsea serving an excellent Merlin Macchiato, not to mention the scrumptious Patronus Pecan Pie, but that might have been before The Cata-BANG!
It was one of his abilities, as Master of Death, to slow down his moment of demise to a speed so sluggish, time didn't appear to move at all. After everything he'd been through, it seemed as if he were to die at the hand of some low life street thug, looking to make an easy galleon. He'd managed to survive the second wizarding war without serious injury, and he'd made it through The Cataclysm without a scratch. And to contextualise such an achievement, for those not well versed on the intricacies of contemporary wizarding history, The Cataclysm was the end of the wizarding race. One day, an over ambitious wizarding archaeologist (idiot) inadvertently activated an ancient wizarding artefact in Norway. Harry only managed to survive the ensuing global catastrophe because he was on a research expedition to The Moon. Since the beginning of magical life, not a single member of the wizarding race had ever stepped foot on the Moon. From what he gathered from Astronomy lessons, it appeared his kind believed the moon to be a slumbering deity that had created all magical life at the universe's inception, and if disturbed had the capacity to end all magical life. They'd even made attempts to stop the Apollo mission, but sadly every wizard and witch they'd sent didn't know what exactly a space shuttle was and therefore had terrible trouble stopping its launch. Harry hadn't travelled to the Moon by space shuttle of course. He originally planned on getting there via a retrofitted broomstick, but in the end he opted for a magic carpet; they'd always been better for long distance travel. Obviously, whatever this artefact was, it only worked at a certain range, and evidently the moon had been beyond that range. He'd travelled there on a last ditch attempt to locate the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, as a thank you to Luna for using her powers of prophecy to determine the weather for that upcoming Saturday (a Saturday he hoped to play Quidditch on). He didn't find it of course, there were a few interesting craters and a new species of magical fungi, but not a hint of any creature that could be considered a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He had arrived back no more than two days later, to find every wizard and witch wizard across the globe gone. Everyone of them seemed to have vanished without a trace. Magical artefacts, objects, structures, and animals had remained of course, but no longer could Harry call himself one Wizard of many. He was alone, and had been since that day 6 years ago. This trip was one of a number he'd embarked on to secure the world's magical paraphernalia. He'd managed to fill 478 warehouses with his various finds, and now it seemed his journey was coming to a close.
He braced himself for the impact, quite satisfied with his achievements up to this point, and was willing to enter the great beyond. While he'd made his peace with the world, it seemed the cosmos had another plan for him. At the last possible moment, the bullet hurtling towards his forehead was batted from it's path by a blood red baton. With a couple of graceful punches and kicks, his assailant was down and his life saved. All of it, he had to thank the man in the crimson devil suit for and based on his recent display of physical fitness, he frankly wouldn't mind thanking this daredevil of a saviour. Seeing him beginning to retreat from the alleyway he took his chance.
"Thanks for, you know… the help. It's nice to know this alley way has a defender." Harry said, stumbling over his words, partly due to his near death experience and partly due to his immediate attraction to the man in red.
"It's really more of a city wide operation. And I happened to be in the vicinity, so saving you from a grisly death was really just a convenience" The mystery man gruffly stated, though Harry was sure he could detect a smile on the man's shadowed face.
"My name's Harry, by the way. In case you wanted to know. Harry Potter" Harry said, now more comfortable with his full name, in the knowledge that he was no longer a famed figure.
Just as Harry had finished, he saw the man in red was bounding away, springing from one alley wall to the other. Realising that he may never see this chap again, he discreetly launched a tracking charm at him. While admittedly the man was somewhat rude for springing out of their conversation, the horns were really doing something for him.
