30,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean

Dudley sat in the right window seat of the corporate jet which had been chartered to carry he and Harry to their new place of refuge. The aeroplane had been outfitted to carry the gurney upon which Harry lay. Dudley looked over at his cousin, but still had trouble believing that Harry was even alive. Had it not been for the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest, he would have sworn that his cousin was dead.

The muggle Foreign Ministry had cooperated with the Ministry of Magic to outfit Harry and Dudley with passports under false names that also showed the two boys to be two years older than they really were. They were not happy about it, but they realised that Harry was the best, nay only way that they would ever end this wizarding war that had spilled over into the muggle community. McGonagall had laid the case out for the Minister of Magic. She had told him of the prophecy and the fact that Voldemort had created the Horcruxes. The ministry had not had any success in stopping Voldemort, therefore they accepted that the reason for their failure was that fate had decreed that only Harry could defeat Voldemort. This took the blame off of their shoulders and allowed them to heave a sigh of relief. For a politician, this is the ideal situation.

The Ministry did want Voldemort defeated, so they were obliged to work with the Order to aid in Harry's recovery. They needed this war over soon or no matter how much they protested that it was not their fault, they would be replaced, probably forcibly. They therefore opened up the doors of the Exchequer, or at least the vault that the Ministry used as a slush fund, to finance the entire operation. This was done with not a small amount of grumbling, since they would rather use that type of money to buy votes, however if the operation could be carried off, it would have the same effect.

After making the arrangements for sanctuary for Harry and chartering the jet, the next order of business was getting Dudley outfitted. McGonagall purchased all of the books which Dudley would need in his first two years, reasoning that with no homework and doing independent studies, Dudley could finish these courses designed for 11 and 12 year olds in a few months. She also outlined a course of study. The one course that Dudley did not have was Potions. McGonagall reasoned that where they were going, the ingredients that Dudley would need might not be available. He could always do his potion work once he returned to England.

When Dudley went to Olivander's shop for his wand, he was, of course measured in every possible way. It took hours to find the correct wand. Every single wand that he picked up seemed to have an aversion to giving off more than a couple of weak sparks. It was not until, with feet aching from standing so long, that Dudley leaned against a display case which promptly fell over. It was a small case, about a meter wide and two meters high that had but a few wand cases inside. The contents dumped, and apologising profusely, Dudley scrambled to pick them up. He righted the display case and began to pick up the wand boxes, wands that were a lot larger in size from anything that he had been shown.

"Careful young man, those are specialized wands, not for the beginner." Just then, Dudley picked up a large wand with a brass grip to return it to its box. He was feeling frustrated, and when he picked up the wand, a gold glow went down his arm, through the wand, and out the end. It made a hole in the floor of the shop a foot in diameter and the resulting shock wave blew the glass out of the front door.

"YEOW! Oh my gawd, I am so sorry! I didn't know it was loaded!" Dudley looked over at the wand maker and McGonagall. Both were standing open mouthed in shock.

M-Mr. Dursley, that should not have happened. It should not even be possible. It takes a wizard much more experienced and powerful than you should be to even get a spark out of that wand." Olivander hurried over. Hmm… Yew, 18 inch, double cored with dragon heartstring and a green and gold phoenix feather. A professional dueling wand." The wand maker looked discomfited. " I only sell at the most… five of these a year, and most of them are custom ordered. The vast majority of wizards and witches would never have use for something this powerful, and besides, the cost is usually prohibitive. The trouble with making these is that getting the two non-matched cores to work in unison is a real… uh, ..problem. That is why they are so expensive. A normal single core wand averages 10-15 galleons, these are closer to two hundred."

McGonagall smiled. "Mr. Olivander, have you not always said that the wand chooses the wizard? It seems that this wand has chosen Mr. Dursley." She pulled out a voucher from the Ministry that read, 'One wand, any type' and presented it to him.

Olivander shook his head. "That usually means a single cored wand. They are going to go completely starkers over this one. However, they did say 'any type', so that is their problem. Nothing else in stock has shown any inclination of working with Mr. Dursley. I suppose that he will just have to use this one, Ministry bean counters be damned. I would caution you however, do not point that at anyone unless you really mean it. You can use it for your education, but in muggle terms it is going to be like using a tank to swat a mosquito. I would also suggest that you use a holster with it. It will be quite uncomfortable to try and carry it in a pocket."

Olivander picked out a matching holster for the wand made from dragonhide, then rang up their purchases. Minerva handed over the voucher from the ministry and 5 galleons to pay for the holster.

Once they were out on the street, Dudley asked if he was to get robes. Minerva explained that where they were going (and Dudley still had not been given that information) that robes were not the popular form of dress. "You will be given muggle money from your destination country to purchase clothes of the local style. You will also want to purchase some sort of athletic clothing. It should fit in with the local scene. Your guide will help you with that."

Now, thirteen hours later, Dudley still had no idea of their destination. These folk were keeping it very close to the vest. The crew on the jet were muggles, the Healer with Harry was a muggleborn dressed in a nurses uniform. The cover story was that they were taking Harry to a clinic for neurological treatment that could not be obtained in the U.K. As the plane began to tilt downward, the flight attendant came back and asked Dudley to fasten his seat belt.

"Sir, we will be landing soon to clear customs and to refuel. Because of the nature of this flight, being a medical flight, the customs officials will be coming directly to the plane to do the paperwork."

"That is nice, but just where are we?" Dudley asked.

"Oh, this stop is White Plains, New York. From here we will be heading to Dallas-Ft. Worth. The ambulance will meet us there at the general aviation." The flight attendant had a distinctly non-British accent.

"Texas? Won't we have trouble with wild Indians there? "

The attendant began to laugh, a deep laugh that came from way down. "You must have been going to the cinema too much. I can assure you that Dallas and Ft. Worth are completely modern cities and that the Indians are just like everyone else." She went back up the aisle chuckling about gullible Brits.

The process with the Customs and the refueling did not take long, and they were soon airborne once again. The attendant came back to Dudley and told him tha she had put in a DVD from a travel agency that was distributed by the Texas Tourism Bureau. It had quite a bit of information on the state along with descriptions of Texas tourist destinations. Dudley put away the mystery book that he had purchased for the flight and turned his attention to the movie.

Upon landing three hours later, the Healer and the ambulance attendants transferred Harry onto the Ambulance gurney, had get into the back of the ambulance with Harry and the Healer. Just a few minutes later, they pulled up in back of a large store and parked next to a bus-sized motorhome. The Healer and attendants took Harry off the gurney and carried him into the motorhome. Dudley followed them inside. The Healer took out her wand, pointed it at Harry's head and spoke.

"Suscitatio Mens!"

Harry's hands flew to his forehead, then stopped. He looked around him, looked at the Healer, the attendant, then Dudley. He also took in the interior of the motorhome.

"Dudley? Who are these people and where the bloody hell am I?"

A/N: "Suscitatio Mens!" awaken the mind

I know that it may seem that I made Dudders a bit Mary Sue-ish in the wand store, but I assure you that he is not going to be some kind of super wizard. The dueling wand is going to have a use to explain a few idiosycrosies at a later time.

Next up... Harry goes on a road trip, meets his new teachers and learns to see things a whole new way!