Harry Potter: Thinking like a Thief.

"So, Mr Potter, what brings you to America?" The witch sitting behind the desk asked.

"Travel. I've wanted to see the world for a long time, America seemed like a good place to start, with the various states and its histories - magical and non-magical," Harry replied truthfully, his mind flashing over to the pictures he'd seen in books of travel in the library near the Dursleys. They'd shown him there was life in other parts of the world, not the boring, soulless place the Dursleys called home.

But he had also chosen America because he knew it was far from Dumbledore, and it was a long way from Voldemort but he wasn't going to tell anyone that.

The witch nodded absently - she had clearly heard this all before in the past - and she kept a watch on the dicta-quill which noted down his reply to make sure there were no mistakes. Harry himself was tense, remembering only too well how Rita Skeeter's own quick-quotes quills misquoted him while making up what the bitch reporter liked without thinking of the consequences (Harry wondered if she had been hit by the curse he had picked out, just for her, but he didn't care).

"Yes, according to your travel papers, you wish to enter the No-Maj world?"

"Yes," Harry was pleased he had mastered occlumency and was able to think of something else to alleviate the boredom he was going through. He knew the American wizards had been forced to take steps to protect themselves, but really…

"You are, of course, fully aware of our laws in the MACUSA, and you are aware your magical signature will be logged by us, and any use or misuse of magic will result in an instantaneous response?"

Harry was aware of the law. He was also aware that the incident involving Newt Scamander and Gellert Grindelwald had shaken the MACUSA up so badly they had constantly been looking at their security. He saw a few ways they'd been able to do that, but the only thing that made sense was they had arranged for wizards and witches to break into their country in some manner - either legally on a plane while they kept their magical signature blocked off somehow, or they'd used an animagus form to conceal themselves before they cancelled the spell, and use as much magic as they could while waiting for the MACUSA to respond.

It made sense the Americans would require someone clever to break in and show them where their cracks were, but also so they could prevent anything like the incident with Grindelwald to happen again. The American wizards had come dangerously close to being revealed, and as a believer in the Statute of Secrecy himself thanks to his upbringing and the knowledge while some muggles might be okay with magic, there would always be a spark of fear there, a fear of the unknown, a fear of a power they simply did not possess themselves, Harry could understand and appreciate the American stance. But he wished they didn't need to throw up this red tape. He'd already discovered what the Americans had done over the years, but he was still curious about what the Americans had been doing to shore up their secrecy, he couldn't see them as complacent as the British.

"I am," Harry confirmed.

"Good. Let me finish with this, and you will be escorted to get your magical signature encoded into our tracers," the witch said.

While he didn't like the thought of his signature on record, Harry knew this was the only way of getting through America. If the MACUSA had done what he thought they had, and if they'd found him without him being entered into the visitor visa records, then they would press charges on him. American law was harsh. He knew that, and it was the only reason he had forced himself to tolerate this whole business.

"Alright, but after this, I will be allowed to venture out into the mu-I mean, the No-Maj world?" Harry asked for clarification even though he knew the answer.

"You will," the witch nodded, her expression guarded as if she couldn't understand why anyone would want to go out there, making him wonder if she was the type of witch Voldemort wouldn't have problems persuading of joining him before he decided to ignore it. "However, if you cast any spells, we will bring you back… by force if necessary. However, if you submit a memory of the incident, and if it was provoked or something happened to you, then you will be let go, while a note will be entered into the log."

"I understand. Have there been any incidents?"

The witch sighed. "There are always incidents," she folded her hands, "I'll be frank, Mr Potter, when we get foreign witches and wizards in America, the MACUSA need to divert a lot of resources to monitoring them."

"Is that because of what happened when Grindelwald was here?"

"More or less. But we justify it because we say our world - not just in America, but around the whole Earth - was dangerously close to being revealed, by this much," the witch pressed her thumb and index finger together, "but ever since then we've had to work around the clock to ensure our security is strong."

Harry knew it wasn't just prudence or paranoia behind the MACUSA's stance.

It was fear.

They knew only too well what would happen if the muggles discovered their existence and they had worked a long time to ensure it never happened.

"And, yes in answer to your question; the MACUSA have needed to clean up the mess caused by various foreigners over the years. We try to bear in mind some things are different in other countries, but they have never had to deal with the messes we have had to prevent and clean up, but they do cause problems. In fact, last year, three British wizards who'd come over for summer vacation from that school- erm."

"Hogwarts," Harry supplied.

"Yes, that one and they came here, flouted our laws and regulations, and they intentionally tormented some No-Maj's. And the most laughable thing was they assumed their blood status would get them off. They likely don't believe it now, since they've been held in a prison for the last year. The British Ministry have been trying to get them out while being pressured to do so by their families, but it won't work because we sent over the evidence of what they'd done, and their entrance visas to make sure the Ministry knew it was legal," the witch explained with a tired shake of her head.

Harry knew the type of pureblood being described. He'd been exposed to their stupidity for the last three years and it had never made any sense to him, and he could sympathise with the American's annoyance.

"When do you think they'll be released?"

"I have no idea," the witch replied in a manner which said clearly she did not give a damn either way. He could understand her stance and her views, while he wondered who the trio was and if he had known them before he dismissed the thought as unimportant. Knowing the British wizarding community, the trio would have been purebloods who believed their names, their standings in society would have allowed them to get off scot-free in Britain. Something told him the Americans would not be as merciful. He sometimes felt many people in the wizarding world would be better off gone, and Fudge was near the top of the list.

As were Dumbledore and Voldemort.

As if the woman was reading his mind, she looked beadily at him although there was a trace of worry and apprehension in her eyes. "Mr Potter, we have heard the news that the Dark Lord of your country has risen again, but the Minister of Magic is denying it," she began, her tone tentative.

Harry stiffened. He had already made his mind up the wizards in his own country were a lost cause and only the public appearance of Voldemort in action would persuade them otherwise. He had recalled the number of times he had told or tried to tell somebody a danger was there, only to be called a liar, and he was fed up with it. He was tired of offering magically binding oaths, and he refused to give one to Fudge. The Minister had proven himself to be a thoughtless idiot who refused to look for better solutions than the ones which seemed to be easy.

But the witch in front of him was not British. She was American. She came from a section of the magical community which seemed the most paranoid - with good reason - but he was wondering if she had been given orders by the higher-ups to determine if he was telling the truth and if they too should prepare for the inevitable since they knew Voldemort would not hold off forever even though he'd be focused on Britain and Europe before looking elsewhere.

"Who wants to know?" He asked in a reasonable tone, but he made sure a sliver of razor-edged steel slipped into his question.

The witch caught it and she sighed. "When we learnt you were coming, it was decided by the President himself that you should be asked what happened."

Harry nodded. He took out his wand slowly and he held it up. "I, Harry James Potter, do hereby swear on my magic I am telling the truth about Lord Voldemort's return, so mote it be."

The witch sagged when he completed the oath and cast a basic spell to prove he was telling the truth. She hadn't wanted to ask the questions but the President had wanted to know for sure so he'd know what to tell the aurors, and he had given the order in person to make it clear just how serious this was to the security of the MACUSA. Many in the Senate had hoped and prayed the boy was lying, exaggerating like Fudge and the British were claiming, but it was clear he wasn't. She didn't like thisThe people of America were not going to like this or the coming months. They'd need to watch out for signs of the insane Dark Lord who'd terrorised Britain, and parts of Europe and something told her this boy was not only instrumental in stopping him, but he didn't want to get involved.

"Why haven't you told the British about this?" She wanted to know. It didn't make sense, especially since he knew how to make a vow like that.

Harry sighed. "I tried," he replied simply. "I tried to tell the Ministry about his return. The only ones who paid attention were my own Headmaster at Hogwarts and the head of the DMLE. Fudge refused to listen to anything I had to say because I can speak to snakes," he went on, uncaring if the woman was personally against parselmouths and believed in the silly prejudices of the magical worlds, but she didn't react more than raising an eyebrow, but he had plans to tell others in the MACUSA about Voldemort's return in case she lied to the President out of spite, although he doubted she'd do anything so stupid he would take the precaution anyway, "and he ignored or overrode every name of the Death Eaters, claiming they were important members of society, purebloods… that kind of crap. After a while, I started to prepare to make an oath, but I decided against it."

"You do know the British could be preparing right about now?"

"I managed to contact the Head of the DMLE," Harry reminded her. "The only problem is I don't know how much she could do to help."

"What do you mean?"

Harry did wonder if he was giving away too many of Britain's secrets, but he decided it made no difference. "Fudge has spent the past decade as Minister claiming the country is at peace, but he has purposefully stripped the DMLE and other departments of the Ministry to the bare minimum. His hold over the position is…tenuous. He only got the job because Barty Crouch senior's son was discovered to be a Death Eater, permanently killing his chances of becoming the Minister. In many ways, Fudge is a lot like his predecessor, Millicent Bagnold. I've learnt enough about the woman to know she didn't do too much on the run-up to the first war, dismissing it as nothing more than a pub brawl when it was actually much serious and even had a lot of sympathy for the promises a pureblood magical society, but when Voldemort showed his true colours, her nature as an incompetent idiot came out."

"Yes, magical Britain does have the nasty habit of making mistakes with their leaders," the witch commented, "so the DMLE of Britain is undermanned?"

"There are aurors, alright, but there just aren't enough of them. That's bad enough. Fudge has cut the funding behind the DMLE, and Bones puts pressure on him to give it back, but he keeps insisting they're at peace even though another Dark Lord can come along. I don't understand the logic Fudge uses."

The witch was amazed the young wizard in front of her was even telling her all of this, and what surprised her the most was he wasn't even perturbed about revealing just how short-sighted Cornelius Fudge was. This was going to interest the President as well as the senate.

After the meeting with the witch, Harry had his magical signature taken and recorded and linked up to the MACUSA's watchlist. At the same time he had sworn Lord Voldemort was back to no less than seven different witches and wizards, just in case his initial doubts about the witch he'd originally met were confirmed.

Once Harry left the MACUSA, his head ringing with the repeated warnings about exposing the magical world to the No-Majs' and so on, he went to the hotel to check-in.

X

Albus Dumbledore might have been the very picture of serenity and calm in the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, but underneath all of his occlumency barriers, he was on the verge of frothing at the mouth with anger and worry. For the last week or so Harry Potter had not been seen at the Dursleys. The boy had vanished early into the summer and nobody knew where he was despite repeated requests for him to return after the way an information embargo had been placed on the boy.

Dumbledore did not need any of this. He needed to know where Harry was, and he needed him at the Dursleys. Dumbledore himself had personally visited the Dursleys and discovered to his horror the boy had coerced the Dursleys into giving him permission to not stay at their home for the summer.

Why were the muggles so stupid? He had written a letter, a warning to the Dursleys should any harm come to the boy while he was there, they would lose their protection. Of course, it slipped his mind they were in danger because he had put them in that position in the first place, but that was academic in his mind.

The Boy-Who-Lived needed to be protected for the Greater Good until the day when he sacrificed himself to end Voldemort. It was sad such a bright, powerful young wizard needed to be sacrificed, but the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. Of course, it also slipped his mind, had he actually done something to prevent Voldemort's rise to power, which had begun as soon as he'd met the future Dark Lord at the orphanage all of those years ago, there wouldn't need to be any sacrifices.

"Any news?" He asked, his tone his usual grandfatherly manner, but there was a hint of the goblin-forged steel underneath.

"None, Headmaster," Nymphadora Tonks replied.

Dumbledore cursed the Dursleys inwardly again. When he got Harry back, he would teach those muggles to never defy their magical betters. It was long past the point they did, instead of believing because they were normal people that made them supreme in their own little brains. "Keep looking; I know its a chore, but we need to find him."

"Why is he so important, Headmaster?" Hestia Jones asked while a number of the Order looked stunned they were wasting so many of their resources looking for a spoilt boy. It was an image Dumbledore had deliberately instilled into the Order so they would not think too much about Harry. At the same time, he could now see he should have made it clear the boy didn't know of his importance. If they did then they'd be a lot less argumentative.

Dumbledore knew he would have an easy time persuading this young woman of the importance of Harry Potter; Hestia Jones was one of those people who held such blind faith in him and his abilities without question.

But at the same time…

Dumbledore sighed, knowing he could not say too much, but if he gave them a hint it might make them more willing to obey. "The boy is vital to the end of Voldemort," he ignored the expected, and rather boringly predictable flinches given to the name. Why couldn't people see being afraid of Tom's assumed name they were playing into his hands? "He will help me fight against Voldemort in the final battle to give me the time needed to apply the special magic which will end the Dark Lord's life."

Hestia Jones looked satisfied with the answer, as did some of the other members of the Order who viewed him as Merlin reincarnated. But there were a few members he could see who were not as enthusiastic, and clearly wanted to see how a spoilt brat could help the greatest wizard of the age against the evilest wizard of the century.

"What? But he's just a boy, Albus-!" Molly shouted, ignoring her husband's hand on her wrist to keep her calm.

Dumbledore resisted the urge to slam his eyelids shut against the deluge. What was it about Molly Weasley which made her think shouting and screaming would get her anything? "I'm afraid its true, Molly. And there is nothing we can do about it," he went on without over too much about the reasons behind the why in case it inspired more questions. "However we need to find out where Harry went. I want the Dursleys to be questioned again. Hopefully, they'll give us an idea of where he might be."

Deep down he knew it was hopeless. He knew how much the Dursleys despised Harry and he was hopeful as soon as the boy found his way back to them, the Dursleys would still be nursing a lot of pent up anger and resentment to their lives being interfered with by wizards.

X

Harry stood on the top of the Statue of Liberty and staring at the massive expanse of the city while he held a camera and taking a few snapshots. It was his last day in New York, and he wanted to take a few memorable pictures of the city before he left. He was heading to Alaska in the morning, using one of the MACUSA's country portkeys to get there so he didn't need to rely on muggle transportation. Harry had it worked out; he would spend a week in New York, then he would spend another week in Alaska before he moved on to the part of the country where the MACUSA knew the magical Indians would be so he could spend a few days studying their type of magic, then to Texas and then he would head towards Los Angeles and San Francisco before he left for Britain again.

It was a genuine pity he couldn't spend more time exploring America, but with the holiday time, it was not possible to spend too much time here. When he got back he would have only a few days before he had to return to Hogwarts.

But he had had a few good days already in New York. He had visited parts of the city like Brooklyn, Harlem, Queens; he'd watched a baseball game while he'd felt like an alien because he didn't support any team in general and he had only gone there for his own curiosity and amusement, but he had grown bored with the game pretty quickly. Still, at least he had gone away with a few souvenirs in his trunk; the photo of the team and a baseball, and a bat would make excellent editions to the collection he was starting, so when he was an old man he would be able to tell his grandchildren he had travelled the world (and he had stolen things along the way).

Harry had been tempted to burgle a few of the houses and apartments in New York, but he hadn't. It wasn't because he was afraid, he wasn't. It was just with the scope of the city and the fact he didn't know it properly, to say anything about the scrutiny of the MACUSA he was worried he might tip them off. That was the last thing he needed.

Harry's burglary methods involved using his magic to unlock doors and windows although he was aware of the non-magical methods like using crowbars to prise doors open and stuff, and he had the feeling the Americans could be tipped off. But he wasn't bothered. He had a whole summer to himself, and he didn't need to break into every house he saw. In any case, it was not as if he couldn't come back later and commit them later.

X

Sitting on the other side of the fire opposite the chief of the Magical Native American tribe, Harry was thankful his time in America had allowed him the opportunity to meet this tribe, mentioned in the records he'd been able to get out of Gringotts. He had been trying to find a decent teacher who would show him how to become an animagus for some time now, and it had been one of the things on the list of things he had wanted to do ever since he had learnt the stories and myths of wizards taking on animal forms was not only a reality, but it was possible to achieve with a bit of work.

This particular tribe had been stalwart allies to the Potter family for a long time, and they owed the Potters a few favours while in turn, Harry would continue to look after their best interests.

In the meantime after he had returned to the tent he was living in, Harry received the Daily Prophet. And he became more and more annoyed, although he was unsurprised by Fudge constantly digging in his heels, consistently claiming he and Dumbledore were liars. Every time he read the Prophet nowadays, the more convinced he was in his plan not to really get involved but he knew he was, up to his forehead. But at the same time, he knew he would need to do something for the war effort, except he would be doing it on his own terms, not Dumbledore's.

As he read through the paper cover to cover, picking out little tidbits insulting him and his family, Harry was tempted to do something unpleasant to Fudge for this. When he reached the end, he threw the paper away in disgust and he picked up the novel he had been interested in when he had seen the title and the image on the cover. Death Wish was a particularly good book, and while he sympathised with the central character's grief, Harry could see this character was like him; Paul did not want to be a vigilante but he had become one out of necessity and a need for revenge following how muggers had attacked his wife and daughter, the same attack which had left him a widow, and his daughter a vegetable. His situation was different from Harry's, of course, but they were similar. When Harry had found the novel in the shops of muggle London, he had been interested in vigilante fiction instantly, and as he had read through the novel, he had become more and more intrigued by the possibilities of waging a vigilante campaign against the Death Eaters.

His interest had been fairly nascent originally, but now he knew the interest was growing. And he knew he had an idea of how to become a vigilante to take on the Death Eaters.