Chapter 4.
The next thing Harry knew, he was jogging to a nearby bus stop. He felt silly for running away but the tension of the situation was deemed unrecoverable by Harry. He had performed accidental magic in front of a dozen muggles. 'How brainless are you, Harry?!' He scolded at himself. He slowed his pace to a stroll when he neared his destination. The bus stop sat nuzzled in the center of his town, only a few miles from the American version of Diagon Alley. Heaving a defeated and annoyed sigh, he slumped down on the designated bench. 'There is no need to be so frustrated...' His annoying conscious told him 'The American Aurors have probably cleaned up your amateur mistake by now...'. Probably. But it didn't help Harry from feeling like he stepped into the annoyingly accustomed to spotlight. 'Those wizards who witnessed everything are probably having a ball selling their story to the newspaper'. Harry burned with embarrassment when he imagined tomorrows front page 'Harry Potter-the boy who is now blowing up American fast food chains...'.
Harry wasn't sure if there was an American version of the Knight Bus and didn't feel as if it would be a good idea to wave his wand around in broad daylight in a muggle town. 'Only one fuck up at a time, Harry.' He told himself crudely.
The bus didn't take long to arrive, thankfully, because Harry started getting the sense that he was being watched. 'Where to?' Murmured the bus driver as Harry stepped into the dank smelling one decked bus. 'Er...Bergen street, please' Harry mumbled back, absentmindedly, as he looked over his shoulder. 'That'll be $3' Harry dropped the money into the mans hand then went to find a seat, almost lunging into a young man as the bus driver jerked the bus into motion as Harry was still making his way down the aisle. Truthfully, Harry preferred this bus over his near death experiences with the homicidal Knight Bus.
The sun was barely peeking past the tree lines as Harry exited the bus onto Bergen Street. He scowled at the coming night sky and mentally pummeled himself for leaving his bike at work as he dashed out like a mad man. Harry made his way down the first darkening ally he saw, found the most decrepit dumpster imaginable, lifted the lid, hopped in and closed the lid. Seconds later, there was a flash of light then deafening silence.
The difference with the American version of Diagon Alley (actually called Ong's Hat Lane) is that there is no one entrance, but nearly fifty. All within a 2 mile radius of Bergen street, several 'portals' were set up, mainly containers that muggles wouldn't dare want to get near to. If they did, wards were conveniently placed on all the portals to daze muggles and reroute them to a different area.
After the flashing light, Harry landed, bottom first, onto a dusty welcome mat. To his left and right, dozens of welcome mats sat stationary with the occasional witch or wizard landing on them out of thin air with a small 'pop'. Harry got up and dusted himself off and proceeded to one of the many exits of the medium sized brick building. As he entered Ong's Hat Lane, he breathed a sigh of relief to be around his own, again. Hundreds of brick and stone shops lined the streets, stacked haphazardly on top of one another, some reaching as high as six story's. Harry vaguely wondered if they were kept together with the help of magic. Small stalls and snack stands clogged the already busy streets and charmed mega phones gushed advantages for buying their particular products. Children zoomed just over head on charmed broomsticks that either glowed or extinguished sparks of light out of the straw ends of their brooms. Harry had to keep focus on where he was going to avoid tripping or bumping into any shoppers as they rushed to and fro on the packed shopping streets. After passing a large group of what Harry suspected were elves, he turned a sharp right and finally reached his destination. The golden words 'My Magical Mementos' were above an old fashioned wooden Victorian style door and just above a small silver bell that screeched 'ding dong' as Harry swung the door open.
The inside of the shop was just another repetition of what Harry just endured on the streets. Boxes of all sizes, shapes and colors were stacked from floor to ceiling, leaving a small maze like path to the front counter and back door. A stooped old balding wizard sat slumped over the counter, his eyes shut and a small amount of drool lingered on his fluffy white beard. 'Excuse me, sir' Harry half-yelled to the wizened wizard. 'Hmph...hmmm? Hem-hem!' Stuttered the attendant as he was drug out of his slumber. "What can I do for you, young man?" the wizard asked as he fumbled with his glasses. "I was hoping you had some floo powder, sir" Harry said anxiously. "Yes, yes I do young man, just wait here, hmm?" The wizard held up his pointer finger in motion to let Harry know to wait, all while never taking his eyes off of Harry as he strode to the storage room.
Minutes later, Harry was still waiting for the old man to return from the back storage room. "Probably fell back asleep" Harry huffed to himself as he leaned against a stack of boxes, which swayed, causing Harry to whirl around and become face to face with a pale face and black eyes. "Harry Potterrrrr" Came a silky hissing voice from its purple lips.
Then the world went black.