A/N-LD: The authors recognize that we cheated a little here and there in the last chapter. If you have any questions feel free to e-mail me at the address in my profile. There's also a Yahoo group where you can get updates to this and my other fics as well. (Also listed in profile)
A/N2-LD: For my excuses about updating so slowly, refer to my Yahoo group.
Harry made his way down the busy sidewalk towards the United States Department of Magic. He had managed to get some directions at an information kiosk. He had also picked up a few brochures that would help him find his way around. Harry had not taken a look at the brochures yet because he was busy gaping at the sites of New Camelot, the wizarding capital of the U.S.
Searching his mind for memories of the few and far between lectures on international magic history from Professor Binns, Harry tried to come up with explanations for all of the strange things that he saw.
It was blatantly obvious that there was no such thing as the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Muggle vehicles tore up and down the streets and Harry could tell that although they were Muggle built, they were wizard modified. Harry finally came up with an explanation. The U.S. was a fairly young country and probably wouldn't know what a pure-blood was if they were smacked with one. The magical folk were all Muggle-born or half-bloods and therefore integrated with the best of both worlds.
Harry stuffed the brochures that he had been absently holding into his pocket as he approached a large building. Carved into the stone above the columns was the name of it, "The United States Department of Magic." The gigantic columns seemed to reflect those of typical Muggle, Federal government buildings. Muggle influence was indeed heavy. He made his way up the broad steps and into the building.
The inside resembled a rather typical office building. If a Muggle ever wandered in, he or she wouldn't even be able to tell there was any magic connected to it. Harry looked around nervously and trying to act the age he looked, stepped up to the reception desk. "I need to register for permanent residence in this country," Harry said in a voice that was as business-like as possible.
The middle-aged lady looked at him over her glasses before answering. "If you have a visa simply make your way to the Office of Immigration. If you have no visa you'll need to go to Mr. Andrews's office."
"I guess I need to go to Mr. Andrews's office," Harry said. He turned to leave but then remembered to ask where that was.
Before he could ask the lady pointed to an elevator, "Top floor," she said in a bored voice.
"Thank you," Harry said. He turned towards the elevator and stepped in just as a couple of men stepped out. The doors closed but the elevator didn't move. Harry searched around for some buttons but didn't find any. Great, he thought. I guess Muggle influence isn't complete. Finally he came up with an idea. "Top floor please." he said. The elevator gave a jerk and then quickly zoomed upwards until it stopped abruptly and opened. Harry stepped out into a wide and more magical reception area.
Halls on either side led to large areas full of cubicles where information and administrative functions were carried out. Harry didn't spare a long glance before he made his way over to the empty reception desk. A small sign on it announced that the secretary was on lunch break and any visitors should take a seat and wait for Mr. Andrews's convenience.
Harry shrugged and took a seat in one of the plush waiting room chairs. He took the chance to examine the various pictures along the walls. They mostly depicted landscapes rather than people. Raised voices from the ajar door caught his attention before he could take in more. The plate on the door read, "Harold C. Andrews, Secretary of Magic."
One of the voices was all too familiar. Harry mentally groaned before he remembered his disguise. Percy Weasley wouldn't recognize him. Harry concentrated on what was being said. Percy was now speaking in a very pompous voice. "I believe that you fail to realize the importance of this situation Secretary Andrews. The Minister of Magic demands that you scan all people entering the country and to seize and deport Harry Potter if he is found."
"I think that you fail to recognize who I am and who this country is Mr. Wheezer," came another voice.
Harry leaned forward and covered his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud. Andrews was mocking Percy! Whoever he was, he reminded Harry of Sirius and Lupin, as well as the twins. Harry doubted that Percy would get any co-operation at all.
"Harry Potter is a crack-pot and a murderer," Percy replied hotly. "He is a danger to the world and a troublemaker. I am a junior assistant to the British Minister of Magic and you will show me the proper respect I deserve."
"You go and tell Mr. Fudge to mind his own business!" shouted Mr. Andrews. "In fact, he ought to be shot! He's better off than you though, you brown-noser!" Harry raised his eyebrows.
"I beg your pardon!" Percy said in a very offended and snobbish tone as if he was looking down at Andrews. "What is this term, 'shot?'"
Harry could imagine Mr. Andrews standing up and throttling Percy at this point. "You British snobs wouldn't know would you?! All that pure-blood nonsense and trying to separate yourselves from Muggles! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE WEAZY!"
At that point Percy must have given up because he dashed out of the office and Apparated without giving Harry, in his disguise, a second look.
Harry snickered slightly and suddenly Mr. Andrews stepped out of his office laughing hysterically. He took a moment to study Andrews. He was fairly tall and was actually older than Harry imagined, sixties or seventies at least. He was clean shaven and his hair was only barely going gray from it's former brown.
When he noticed Harry his laughter was cut off. He turned and looked at Harry, studying him very carefully as if he saw something but could not put his finger on it. The gaze reminded Harry of Dumbledore's piercing sort of look. Finally after a moment he spoke. "Hello Mr. Potter."
*
Dumbledore stood and was about to address himself to the gathered Weasley family and various members of the Order when Arthur Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks both rushed into the kitchen at Grimmauld place at nearly the same instant. Dumbledore gave them a swift and questioning look.
Tonks who was heavily panting answered Dumbledore's inquiring gaze first. "After a lot of threatening and manipulating I finally got those retarded goblins at Gringotts to release the papers to me." She took them out of a pocket and handed them to Dumbledore. "The Potter Estates, listed and valued. They also mentioned that he withdrew a copy of the same things."
"Did he say anything to them about where he was going or what he was up to?" Dumbledore asked in a voice stretched thin with patience as he scrutinized the list.
Tonks shook her head negatively. "If he did they wouldn't tell me."
Dumbledore turned to Mr. Weasley, "Arthur, were you able to find out anything at the Ministry?"
"Not really," replied Mr. Weasley. "My friends said that Fudge sent Percy to lean a little on the American Secretary for support and help. Apparently Andrews flat out refused to even listen to Percy."
A few faces grew grim at the mention of Percy. They had encountered some trouble with him at the end of Harry's fourth year. "Is there any chance that he would be in the United States?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a very emotional voice. It seemed that she now looked upon Harry as one of her own.
"There's one possibility," Dumbledore said as he examined the list that Tonks had acquired. "Creswell Manor in the United States is owned by Harry. He also seems to have a rather sizeable bank account there. His grandparents spent a brief period of time there and invested some money rather wisely."
"I'd bet anything that he went to the U.S." Ginny cut in.
Everyone paused and looked at her in surprise. She flushed at bit and sat back as Hermione took up the torch. "Yes, I think it is rather probable Professor. Is there any chance of this Mr. Andrews helping us to locate Harry? Surely he would understand about You-Know Who."
"Why would he care about Harry in the first place?" Ron said cut in. "He doesn't know about war or evil like You-Know-Who. He's probably like every other politician who runs government. All he's concerned about is himself and possibly the United States."
Dumbledore looked at Ron gravely. "I believe that your are mistaken Ronald. There once was a Dark wizard named Grindlewald who rose to extraordinary power and influenced the Muggle world. I defeated Grindlewald but it was Harold C. Andrews, a U.S. Senator at that time who awoke the rest of the world to the danger. He fought Grindlewald just as much as I did."
Ron nodded, slightly abashed. "I see, so I suppose he knows what's going on then."
Dumbledore smiled sagely, "I would suppose he does. Perhaps more than the Order in fact. The MCIA has often made the Department of Mysteries look like a pack of imbeciles.
*
Late that night Dumbledore had another meeting at an obscure tavern that was found as a sort of rest stop from one magical village to another. Over the centuries it had basically lost its identity and was known to few.
"Would you be able to find someone discreetly and then deliver my message to him? As well as avoid attention from the wrong sort of people?" Dumbledore asked a darkly cloaked figure urgently. Harry's absence was more distressing and serious than Dumbledore had dared let on to anyone.
"Easily," replied the disguised figure in a rasping whisper.
Dumbledore seemed to be carefully weighing his options. Finally he decided. He withdrew a sealed letter from his cloak. "See that this is delivered to Harry Potter then. Do not open it, it is protected. You will likely find him in the United States as a visitor or immigrant."
The cloaked figure stretched forth his gloved hand and took the letter and laid it on the table. Dumbledore took a small purse filled with Galleons from his cloak and also handed it to the figure.
After Dumbledore left, Blade set the letter and purse from Dumbledore on the table, took another letter and purse from his cloak and also set them on the table. He sat at the table and considered them. It had just been proven that he was the best. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore had sought him out. Now it was up to him to decide which of those two were the best.
It was impossible to follow both of their instructions.