Harry has come to a realization. Not one that was necessarily mind-breaking, exactly. Nor was he likely the first to come to it, either.

It was simply that, quite apparently, bottomless pouches were not exactly advertised as truthfully as they could be.

That's not to say that they didn't fit more than what seemed to be anatomically or physically possible, no. It was simply that they did, in fact, have a limit. A very, very large limit, but a limit nonetheless.

It took Harry raiding three entire Tescos of nearly the entirety of their stocks for him to realize as much, as, when he'd attempted to wandlessly maneuver the last aisle of canned beans into the same bag he'd been using thus far, he'd been met with resistance.

So much resistance, in fact, that when he had uncomprehendingly attempted to shove the items in despite the clear lack of acceptance - literally forcing the cans inside - the bag had made a groaning, belching sound before it promptly expelled the entire shelf back out with such a force that they smashed into the opposite wall with a series of booming clangs and squelches as several of the goods exploded open.

So, suffice to say, the bags had a limit.

Harry had started filling up the second bag from that point forward, and was quick enough on the uptake to not make the same mistake twice in proceeding to the third.

.

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed, dropping himself onto the ground, finally taking a moment's pause.

He'd been raiding for the better part of the night already - several hours, at least, since the closing times of local stores. He'd popped in and out of shops - over a dozen - from a variety of locations, mostly in more rural areas that likely wouldn't have as much attention directed towards them should any issues be made with the sudden emptying of entire stores with nary a sign of foul play. Additionally, he'd decided he'd sort everything out into their respective categories once he was done with his raids, as that was a task that could be solved at any point in time.

"Tempus," he commanded, the air in front of him shimmering as the time came to light in front of him, pronouncing it to currently be just past three in the morning. Which meant he probably only had an hour more, at most, before it was too risky to continue, as workers came to set up shop earlier than when their places opened.

He glanced back down at the map in his hand, a good majority of the dots he'd marked already crossed out from him having visited. All that were really left were a couple of the same types as well as a muggle pharmacy.

He'd yet to visit one of the latter, several doubts remaining on the need since magic medicines and potions were just as, if not more so, advanced, but, in the end, the more the merrier.

Better safe than sorry and all that.

He hoisted himself back onto his feet with a grunt, mentally reciting the coordinates in his head several times before twisting his body and apparating away with a thundering clap.

.

Harry comprehended quite quickly after entering the pharmacy that his concept of what, exactly was in a pharmacy had been drastically understating it all.

Sue him; it wasn't like his Aunt had ever cared enough to take him to the doctor's for his shots, let alone for something as mundane as cold medicine.

But, yes, there was plenty more than bottles of pills stocked in the shop.

Those did take up several shelves, made with a plethora of ailments in mind including heart issues, acid reflux, congestion, pain relief, and practically anything and everything in between, but there were many other types of items stocked as well.

For one, health aids such as bandages, Neosporin, and medical tape were quite abundant, with several kits of different customizations and sizes available for purchase. There were also hygiene products, similar to those found in some of the regular shops but on a more extensive level, going into deep cleaning items for the face and hair. Additionally, feminine hygiene products were practically in excess, though that might just be Harry's personal perspective, seeing as to how he didn't need any of them for himself. (He took them anyways).

Scouring the aisles and clearing them all of everything they held had Harry contemplating more deeply upon the specific supplies present, however.

See, although the place was well stocked - more than that, definitely - there was a limit. A limit to the extent of the uses, in the sense that - for the majority of the items - they were meant to be able to be used by the common person. A useful trait for them to have, normally, but the whole point of Harry's expedition was that he was preparing for anything but normal.

Medicinally, Harry considered that he was quite well set. Maybe a couple more pharmacies between now and his flight. Once again, expiration dates mattered little when one could use a preservation charm. However, in terms of first aid, the stores simply did not have the adequate supplies for him to consider himself as completely equipped as he could be.

They just did not have what he needed. Things like suture kits, IVs, syringes, scalpels, wheelchairs, blood bags…

The list seemed nearly endless when he thought long and hard about it.

Harry didn't want to fall back on relying fully on his magical abilities, as he could never be too sure when he would be drained and in need of muggle methods. That was without mentioning if he needed to help a muggle, as he couldn't see himself outright revealing his powers unless there was literally no other choice.

Which meant that he needed to collect the muggle tools necessary for practically any and all medical procedures. It mattered little if he didn't currently know how to use them - he could always learn.

As for where he could find these items?

Well, a hospital was certainly the most obvious choice, and Harry didn't have the bloody time to scour the internet with his poor skills for wherever medical tools were stored before transfer.

So a hospital it was.

Another day, though, since the skies were already lightening with the barest tinges of the sunrise, signifying that his nighttime activities had to be set aside for the moment.

.

When Harry awoke sometime in midafternoon - having conked out immediately upon reentering Grimmauld - he stumbled out of bed and to his desk, mind whirring around his already half-forgotten dream of glowing red and remembralls.

Fumbling for a pen - yes a pen, for Merlin's sake, he never bloody managed to make his quillmanship look any better than a toddler writing with their nondominant hand - in order to write a list.

Keeping everything all lodged in his mind was certainly the best way for something to slip past him, and he dreaded the thought of only remembering something important after having already taken off for America.

So, he wrote.

It wasn't a complete list, he was sure, as he had no doubt more ideas would pop into mind as the days wore on, but it was something, at the very least.

.

Muggle Library

Find out about doomsday preppers

Knockturn Alley

Borgin and Burkes

?

Things to Buy:

Wands

Brooms

Clothes

Hygiene/toiletries

More potions/ingredients

Plants/seeds

Building materials

Cooking tools

Weapons

Raid Muggle Hospital(s)

Shrinkable car?

.

That last point was still very much up for debate due to several factors, including - but not limited to - the fact that he didn't know how to drive and the notion that Americans and the British had steering wheels on opposite sides, which veered his internal debate more into whether he'd buy a vehicle after flying to America.

A thought for later.

After putting it all into writing, though, his list as a whole did seem quite… pitiful.

Well, he knew that it was extensive, especially including the items he'd already gathered as well as how the ones listed on the paper were broad strokes, but it still left him feeling a bit miffed just looking at it.

He huffed.

Now certainly wasn't the time to sulk about such minor issues. Especially considering they weren't issues at all.

Harry clicked his pen closed and set it back on his desk, raking a hand through his mussed up hair as he pushed himself back off his chair and wandered over to his wardrobe.

He'd go with his first item on the list today. It was a Wednesday, so it shouldn't be overly crowded out, and he'd rather add everything he discovered from the doomsday sites early on rather than have to scramble at the last minute.

.

Of bloody course things couldn't be so damnably easy.

Harry had thought it'd be fine to visit the library in Surrey. He knew where it was, he already had a library card for his visits so that he could sign into a computer, and there was such an abysmally small chance of running into the Dursleys in such a place that it was practically nil.

Apparently, those odds weren't enough, since there sat Dudley Dursley in all his rotund - though slightly less than expected - glory, sitting in the seat next to the only available computer.

Harry shut his eyes, tilting his head back and letting out a long, slow exhale, lungs deflating in his chest.

This was fine. This was completely fine. He could just come back later today - or, better yet, tomorrow. No need to be dealing with any Dursleys at all!

He set his head back and blinked his eyes open, only to realize he'd met the gaze of none other than his one and only cousin. For Merlin's sake, where was the reprieve?

"Harry?" Dudley questioned disbelievingly, half rising from his seat in his obvious surprise.

Harry resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, reluctantly stepping closer so as to not encourage the risk of an argument occurring between the two of them from across the library. Or, equally as bad, Dudley chasing after him if he attempted to simply turn on his heel and leave.

Instead, Harry came to a stop a couple of steps away from his cousin, who had now fully risen from his seat, chair pushed back and frame unfortunately doing quite well in towering over Harry, as the blonde had several inches and more than a few stones on him.

"I was just leaving," Harry promptly told him, feeling stiff, lips pulling into a taut line. He hadn't seen his cousin since he'd last left for Hogwarts, making it nearly three years. Even then, they hadn't talked much at all for a year or two longer before that, Dudley avoiding him and Harry doing nothing to dissuade the action.

Now, Dudley faltered, one mitten-like hand raising, and Harry barely restrained a flinch before realizing that his cousin was simply moving to scratch at the back of his neck. Harry withheld the shamed flush that attempted to rise to his cheeks, Dudley awkwardly clearing his throat. "You - you don't have to leave," the man stuttered out, shoulders hunching in a manner that looked rather uncomfortable.

Harry himself felt quite discomfited - not to mention abruptly and utterly confounded, for a lack of a better word. "Oh?" was all he managed to say, skin practically itching for him to just leave.

"I can go," Dudley offered, apropos to nothing, face pinched in a way Harry couldn't recall having ever seen before, which was saying something since his cousin had a plethora of different scowls and pouts for all sorts of occasions. It was almost fascinating, in a morbid sort of way, to see such an ill-fitting expression present. The way Dudley's lips pinched caused his cheeks to go taut in a manner that had his eyes squinting upwards and his nose scrunching as his eyebrows pulled in. All together, Harry would almost think that Dudley looked… chagrined. Abashed, maybe. Merlin, it was not a proper look on him.

"Why?" he couldn't help but ask, feeling utterly lost in the direction their conversation had decided to veer off in. Well, not that it'd gone in any sort of direction he'd been expecting from the very start.

Dudley's mouth opened and closed several times before he seemed to slump further, heaving a surprisingly weary sigh. He dropped himself back into his seat with a loud thump, the chair creaking ominously beneath him as he paid it no mind, staring aimlessly at the table in front of him.

Harry couldn't even find it in himself to be impatient, eyebrows nearing his hairline as he watched the scene unfold. Not only had his cousin deigned to lower himself in comparison to Harry, but he didn't seem hateful over his presence in the slightest. Not to mention how his previous unfortunate and well recognized… demeanor… had yet to make an appearance.

It was then that Dudley let out another sigh before he finally spoke, not looking up to meet Harry's eyes, hands clasping together in front of him as he fidgeted almost nervously.

"I… you haven't - we haven't seen each other for a while," he started, picking at his worn nails. "I've had a lot of time to… well, to think," he admitted, peeling a corner of skin off the edge of his thumb. "Mum and Dad wanted me to join the Grunnings business, and I never really paid much attention to what that'd meant for me, before," he trailed off, then shook his head. "That's not what I meant to say," he course corrected. "It's true that grasping that I don't want to just follow in Da's steps helped me - well, that and the fact that I finally went to a doctor alone and they told me I was two stone short of a heart attack - but it helped me realize I was wrong, Harry."

Harry nearly physically startled at being addressed by his name; he couldn't remember the last time someone in the family had called him by it - if ever. That's without mentioning how he barely kept his jaw hinged shut so he wasn't gaping rather unattractively.

Dudley continued on, oblivious if not for the slight hesitation before he'd spoken the name. "I realized I was wrong about a lot of things in my life." He scoffed bitterly. "Too many things." He finally looked up and met Harry's eyes, and his own were alight with a withered sort of anger, old and not-at-all directed at Harry. "I realized my parents were wrong about even more," he said.

Harry suddenly found it hard to swallow around the lump in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from his cousin as words continued to pour out of the other, coming faster and faster as if gaining traction the more he spoke.

"I know they were wrong about many things, now. I know they shouldn't have spoiled my rotten like they did, because it made me exactly that: rotten. I know they shouldn't have praised me for my shit grades in school, because I never tried harder and now I've failed secondary. I know they shouldn't have told me everything would simply work out, because even if I wanted to work at Grunnings, I can't because I don't have the proper education. I know they shouldn't have fed me like they did, because now it's horrible and hard to lose the weight I need to to even approach being healthy, if I can even reach that point anymore. And I know…" he trailed off, gave a loud sniff and squared his shoulders as he resolutely met Harry's eyes, "I know they shouldn't have lied about you being a freak or a monster or a horrible child because you're none of those things and I was so hateful to you for something you had no control over," he declared, jaw tight as he swallowed audibly.

Harry stared. He stared and he stared and he stared and he stared until Dudley finally shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"'m sorry, is what I'm trying to say," his cousin muttered, looking aside.

Harry finally blinked, then did so several more times, realizing he hadn't done so during the entirety of Dudley's impromptu revelation. "You're serious." he said more than asked.

Dudley nodded anyway. "I should've… I should've said something earlier. Should've realized earlier too. For God's sake, you saved my life, didn't you?" he huffed out self-deprecatingly.

Harry could only manage to slowly shake his head, feeling like he'd taken a blow to it with a particularly hard bludger. "It's… alright," he replied faintly.

Dudley shot him a disbelieving look, and Harry exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching upwards despite himself.

"It's not alright," he amended, "but it's…" he trailed off, looking to the side. What in the world did he say in response to all of that? Clearly not 'it's alright' like he'd tried to, as it most definitely hadn't been and still wasn't. A not exactly small part of him wanted to simply scoff in the face of it, upturn his nose and reject Dudley's attempt at - at reconciliation, it seemed. To snub his cousin like the blonde had done to him for so many years. It'd be easy - so easy - and, from the looks of it, Dudley wouldn't object to it all. In fact, it quite looked like he expected as much, face set in a resigned grimace and neck cricked forward to hunch over the desk. Even if Harry didn't respond in such a manner, though, he couldn't exactly say, 'it's in the past' either because, while technically accurate, it implied that Harry had moved on in some sense beyond what he had, which was also untrue. No, Harry was still far more embittered by the actions of the Dursleys than he wished he was. But… Yes, there was a but; there always seemed to be.

It was all tied into what Dudley himself had admitted, and it was something that Harry - as much as a vitriolic portion of himself wished to - couldn't simply ignore. Oh, no truly, a shard of him mentally kicked and screamed at the thought of admitting it, but he had little choice as his mind made the connections on its own. Connections to the fact that, despite everything he'd done, Dudley himself had been - in a sort of twisted, convoluted way - a victim to it all. For what was Dudley but what his parents had created? What was his treatment towards Harry but something he learned by following the actions of those he looked up to and was instructed by? What was his behavior but something he was never taught was wrong or ill-placed?

And now his cousin, still young but a grown man just as Harry was, sat before him, having realized his faults and admitted to them, clearly expecting nothing in return. Not a heartfelt reunion. Not a placation that it wasn't wrong. Not an apology in return.

Nothing at all.

Harry let out an explosive sigh, and Dudley tentatively looked up at him.

"Thank you," Harry said, blunt and to the point.

Dudley blinked at him, reeling back slightly in incomprehension. "For what?" got past his lips before he managed to snap his mouth shut, cheeks reddening.

Harry let out a huff of laughter, the sound nearly drifting into a snort at the look of wonder on Dudley's face in response to it. He shook his head and lightly shrugged his shoulders. "Means something, that you apologized," he said, voice softer than he meant it to be.

Dudley ducked his head again, but not before Harry caught the small, quietly grateful smile that upturned the corners of his lips. Then the blonde finally stood, looking down at Harry and blustering for a moment before thrusting his hand out, wincing when Harry twitched at the sudden movement. "I really do have to leave," Dudley admitted sheepishly, "but I'm glad I saw you, Harry."

Harry waited a moment longer, his Avada green eyes searching Dudley's pale blue, before he gave a single nod and returned the handshake with a firm grip of his own. "You know what?" he said almost amusedly, question rhetoric as he dropped his hand and stepped aside to let his cousin pass. "So am I, Big D... so am I."

Then he smiled - a real, genuine smile that wasn't necessarily wide and was just a hair too tentative, but he did.

Dudley returned it with one of his own.