Hey I'm back! Sorry for the enormous delay, I am gone try and upload much more often, since I seem to have my muse back, Please R&R!
Light filtered through cracks in the walls and ceilings of a warehouse on the outskirts of what used to be New York City. Harry Potter sat up on his bedroll, looking out through the cracks at the sky.
My birthday, another year come and gone, Harry thought to himself, but at least now I am on my way home, to my goal.
Reaching into his bag that was spread out next to his bedroll, he pulled out a picture of his friends. As he stared he thought back to the last time he heard their voices, thirteen years ago today…
FLASHBACK
Harry woke up with a smile on July 31st; it was his birthday, and one of the first he had not spent trapped in the house at Number Four Privet Drive with his nasty relatives. It was quite a surprise when Dumbledore showed up at his home, just after the start of summer; Harry had expected to spend the summer before his 7th year at Hogwarts cooped up in the house like he had spent the others. But Dumbledore was sending him on a vacation to, of all places, Tibet. The old Teacher had explained that Harry was going to receive some special training from the monks at a temple there. Something in the old man's manor showed that he was hiding something, but Harry was too excited to care. So, a couple of letters and a portkey later, Harry was in a beautiful temple in Tibet, ready to start training.
However, he had been here for most of the summer already and all he had done was read and listen to the elders speak of their beliefs on reality. Harry found it all very interesting, but was wondering when he would start his real training. Whenever he would ask the elders, they would give him an almost sad look and say that he would know when it was time.
So he woke up this day, expecting to do the same thing, only difference being this was his birthday, when his magical communicator beeped. It was the same type used by the Order of The Phoenix, and the Headmaster had given it to him with his portkey. Harry slipped his glasses on, scooped the device up off the nightstand, and flicked it on.
"Hello?"
"Happy Birthday Harry!" The voice of his best friend Ron came through from thousands of miles away. "Dumbledore said that we could use Dad's communicator to call you. How's Tibet, mate?"
Harry let out a smile, "It's great Ron, and this place is so…old, so full of history and power. How's merry ol' England?"
"Oh you know the usual. Rain, rain, more rain. " Ron said with a snort. "Cannons are out of the playoffs AGAIN this year."
Harry let out a soft sigh; Ron really needed to pick a better team. "How are your mum and dad, and the twins?"
"They're all great, the twins shop is doing booming business," Ron replied. "Oh and Mum found out you were their investor. Don't worry, Mione, Ginny and I managed to calm her down."
"Thanks mate. Speaking of Mione, how is she?"
"Ask her yourself, she's right here." Ron handed Hermione the communicator. "Hi Harry. How's Tibet? Read anything good?
Harry let out a laugh, naturally the first thing Mione would ask about would be books. "It's great, and I have read a whole lot. You would love it here."
"I'll make sure I put it on my list of places to see once we graduate," Mione replied. "You sound really good Harry. I'd love to chat more, but your girlfriend is giving me looks… Like if I keep her from talking to you for one more second, she'll bat-boogey hex me, so I'll talk to you when you come home!"
Harry could hear shuffling as Hermione handed off the phone. A voice he missed sorely could be heard. "Hi Harry," said his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.
"Hi, luv, I miss you," Harry said in reply. Ginny had been his girlfriend for almost a year now. They had gotten together during the summer last year, after she had saved Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, from being blasted through an arch at the battle in the Department of Mysteries. This had caused him to see her in a different light, not just as Ron's little sister, but as her own person. And after a few months of nearly daily communication, they had decided to give a relationship a shot and it was great ever since.
"I miss you too…at least you're somewhere fun. I'm stuck here, watching Ron and Hermione play kissy face!" Ginny growled. "It's so…." Ginny was cut off by a loud sound and rumble in the background, and a scream from Hermione. "HARRY!" Was the last thing he heard before the link went dead.
"GINNY! GINNY!" Harry yelled into the communicator. He felt the ground begin to shake, and flashes of light come in through his window. As he went to see what was going on, he crumpled to the ground in pain, his scar burning like never before. The last thing he heard before passing out was Voldemort's cruel voice. "DIE POTTER!"
Harry awoke three days later, surrounded by the elders of the temple. The head monk looked down at him. "Now your training begins, young one."
END FLASHBACK
Harry sighed, putting the photo back into his pack, and cleared his mind of thoughts, meditating as the monks had taught him, pulling energy and magic from the earth and using it to strengthen him. With magic as it was now, using a wand for even a simple stunner would kill someone, so he centered the magic into himself, allowing him to do his spells wandless. Harry still had his wand strapped to his wrist, in a spring loaded holster.
He stood, his energy aligned, strapping his long boots on. His black cargo pants pockets were full of supplies and weapons. He calmly dropped into a fighting stance, running through his martial arts katas, styles from drunken master to Kung Fu, all having been learned in his travels over the past 13 years. Finishing his work out, he began to strap on his gear.
First, his katana, made by the great Japanese sword master Hatori Hanzo, during Harry's 3 year stay in Japan learning martial arts, tactics and swordsmanship from the great masters.
Then his shotgun, a sawed-off, double-barreled .12 gauge, strapped to his hip. It had saved him quite a few times in a close up fight, when the sword just wouldn't cut it.
Over that went his coat, a long duster-style made out of a combination of dragon and basilisk hide. Bullet and spell proof, it had been made by an armor smith in the ruins of Los Angeles. Included in it was a bit of magic Harry had never seen before or since: a pocket of infinite space. Anything he wanted out of the pocket, he just stuck his hand in and thought about it, and it was there. Great for getting weapons past security.
Last but not least were the newest weapons he had acquired. Two custom made .50 caliber pistols, made by a gunsmith in Texas who said he was distantly related to Samuel Colt. Harry didn't know whether that was true, but the craftsmanship was certainly there. Using these pistols, Harry had devised a new way of attacking foes.
During one of his DADA classes his 6 year with Prof. Lupin, he learned a little known fact that due to the magic interacting, wizards could only have one type of shield upon themselves at a time, whether it be a magic shield or a physical shield. Using some complicated charms he had discovered on his travels, Harry adapted his guns so that they would fire bullets with spells on them, anything from stunners to the killing curse. This way, even if the target had a magic shield up, the bullet would still hit and vice versa.
Harry grinned at the memories of how many foes had faced off with him in a gun fight, with physical shields up, confident they would win, and the looks on their faces when the spell hit.
He slipped his pistols into their holsters and picked up his pack. His bedroll was already inside. He climbed out of the warehouse, gazing out at the ruins of New York City. He had a plane to catch.
