2002, Southampton, QE2, Cabin 621, (Why Couldn't He Just Get A Flight To New York?)
Harry had thought portkeys were the worst way to travel.
Well, they still were, but a ferry was pretty close. How muggles could actually enjoy it and pay out specifically to travel like this for months on end baffled him.
He was incredibly grateful to Hermione for giving him a large case as a "going away present."lthough he could easily fit everything he would need in a carrier bag, the muggles would find it a bit odd that a passenger didn't have any luggage.
It took him an embarrassingly long time to realise that the bag also had an undetectable extension charm on it.
Not to be outdone, Ron had managed to buy another magically expanded tent, which he passed onto Harry, saying,Just in case, mate, we all know what happens when we leave you alone for a few minutes."
Ginny had managed to enchant another galleon with the Protean Charm, connected to four others in the possession of Ron, Hermione, and herself.
"At least on this camping trip you're better prepared and have backup," she'd said. They had all laughed at that, but deep down they knew that if Harry actually needed his, then it wouldn't be due to a fishing trip—Harry still wouldn't let Ron forget that.
Ginny gave him another going away present later that evening. They'd both woken up late, and he'd had to rush to get to the ferry on time, but from the smug grin on Ginny's face, she'd planned for him to panic. Revenge was sweet when you weren't on the receiving end.
Harry again mentally went through his "presents" as he laid them out on the bed., He was set up not only with the gifts from Ron and Hermione, but also the now standard "armoury" of an Auror. Dragonskin overcoat, disguised to look like a trench-coat, instant darkness powder, shield gloves, enchanted robes and temperature controlled boots, along with a potions kit and a host of other trinkets–nothing that would substitute for a good shield charm or Auror training, but every little things helped, according to Robards–and plenty of merchandise from George spilling over on the side table.
He checked once again for his wand, and it was in the exact same place as last half-dozen times or so he checked. Harry finally let himself relax onto the bed, since the Ministry had managed to get him a decent sized single room cabin for the trip from Southampton to New York,and drifted off to sleep. He'd spent too long rushing around for this trip.
2002, QE2, Mid-Atlantic (Ferries May Not Be So Bad, But Flying Is Still Much Faster)
On the third day at sea, Harry had to admit that maybe traveling by ferry did have its bar and restaurant certainly helped matters there.
Passingan older couple on the stairs, whose favourite pastime appeared to be complaining about the declining standards on the ferry, Harry made his way to one of the open decks. There was just something about the free space that appealed to him like nothing else. Except flying on his firebolt.
Now imagining himself and the Weasleys playing Quidditch over the Atlantic, Harry allowed his thoughts to drift. Taking in the fresh ocean air, he was pulled out of his brief daydreaming by the voice of what sounded like a slightly tipsy man.
"There's nothing quite like fresh sea air to invigorate your bones."
Harry turned and saw that the man was sipping on a cocktail, despite it being midday in London, and gesturing with his free hand at the expanse of ocean.
"You're right there." Harry replied. Taking his response as an invitation, the man moved closer, putting his arm around Harry.
"M'names Oliver Cameron. I'm on this cruise fairly often, but I haven't seen you around before…"
"Harry, Harry Potter."
"Mnn, Harry. Well Mister Potter, considering I haven't seen you before, and I generally try to meet up with fellow cruisers when I can, what do you say to a drink?" Oliver had a habit of gesturing with his cocktail glass, and Harry was convinced there was a spell on it to prevent the drink from spilling.
"Ehh, sure, why not.
It wasn't like there was much else to do on the cruise. He wasn't too sure he really wanted to develop a taste for it, he couldn't imagine the amount of money it would take to go on world cruises every year.
Making their way to one of the many bars onboard the ferry, with Oliver liberally sipping his drink and insisting that he could pay for their beverages, as he drank there often enough, they sat down. With the familiarity of a seasoned drinker, Oliver finished the dregs of his own, then rattled off an order for an elaborate cocktail, before turning to Harry and gesturing for him to order.
"I'll go for a Manhattan. Thanks." He nodded at the bartender, and briefly thought that if she could remember that absurdly complex cocktail, and how to make a load of others off the top of her head, she could've been one of Snape's better students.
"First time going to the U.S. then, Mister Potter?" Oliver smirked knowingly at Harry from the barstool. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Harry wondered briefly what had given it away before answering.
"Yes actually, how did –"
"Funnily enough, most cruisers here drink a Manhattan when it's their maiden voyage to the States." The older man chuckled and carried on, "I have no idea why, but I guess everyone's more alike than they'd care to admit."
"We're all secretly middle aged and want nothing more than to sunbathe and complain about how things are going downhill?" Harry gestured with a look to one of the decks outside, where the older couple was complaining to a harried looking steward about something, and for some reason dressed for much warmer weather. This set Oliver off laughing until tears came out of his eyes.
"Oh, Harry, I knew you were a funny guy when I saw you." He gave Harry another snigger and conspiratorial wink.
"Between us both, I'm only on this leg of the cruise so I can enjoy the next leg passing through Florida." He couldn't contain himself after started guffawing and giggling to himself, almost missing the bartender when she came up with their cocktails. Oliver's was pink in a long glass, with a ridiculous amount of fruit in it, and two straws. Harry's was a much more modest drink served in a cocktail glass.
"Cheers," he said.
"Cheers." And with barely a second to think, Oliver had already taken a considerable swig of his new drink.
"Now, Mister Potter, as there's no hope in hell for a sunbathe, shall we talk about how things are inevitably getting worse?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.
2002, New York, Times Square, Intercontinental Hotel Times Square, Lobby (Bloody Hell, How Much Does MACUSA Spend On Consultants?)
Harry arrived at the hotel and waited briefly to try and spot his guide, staring at the piece of paper with the address and room number. Surely they didn't expect to meet in the hotel room, it would be more convenient for whoever the guide was to meet in the reception or at the front desk.
With that in mind, Harry made his way to the front desk, not seeing any obvious signs of a wizard, or anyone coming up to him to talk about MACUSA.
The receptionist, a girl maybe a year or two older than Harry, looked up at him and smiled.
"Hello, and welcome to Intercontinental. Is there anything I can do for you today, sir?"
"Actually yes, I'm here on a business trip. I've been given a room number and I was just wondering if anyone was here waiting for me, Miss…?" Always good to get people's names, just in case, and playing the polite Brit angle might help get more information.
"Ashley Smith." The girl's smile seemed somewhat brighter now. "Okay, so that room was booked and everything is fully paid for, I'll just need you to sign this piece of paper and I can get you your room key."
Her eyes flickered briefly, as if trying to visualise the memory. "And there was someone here earlier for you, but they mentioned that something came up, and said that if you could meet them here in the Lobby in an hour, they would apologise for the delay and take you to the business meeting."
With another smile, Harry was handed a number of forms and a ballpoint pen. Sharing a look with the receptionist about "bloody paperwork", Harry signed and printed his name on the indicated blanks on the forms. Taking it back, the girl's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Do you have any plans for your stay in New York Mister Potter? We offer a number of sightseeing trips and discounts with partner organisations." She indicated another portion of the front desk, where a man in another well pressed suit was talking to an obvious tourist family, showing them a colorful brochure. Whilst he was looking over, Harry caught a glimpse of the neighbouring queue, where the same form was being filled in by another tourist. He mentally cursed himself. He'd earned to write with quills and was taught by mostly pure-bloods, so he and most other British witches and wizards defaulted to writing in a cursive script that wouldn't look out of place in the 1700s. So much for not standing out while he stayed in Muggle America.
He looked back at the receptionist and shrugged.
"Maybe another time, unfortunately I think this business trip won't leave me much time to actually explore New York. Thanks for your help, Ashley."
Taking his key, and complimentary map of New York, Harry made his way to the lifts.
2002 New York, Times Square, Intercontinental Hotel Times Square, Room 301 (Harry Is Still Amazed At The Budget MACUSA Must Have To Afford All This)
Freshening up in the luxurious suite he had been provided, Harry wondered if he could secretly duplicate and shrink the bedding – it was amazing that Muggles could get that level of comfort without any charms. He shook that thought from his head and began changing into his ceremonial Auror robes (much more convoluted than the standard fieldwork robes), then transfiguring his outer robe to look like a muggle business suit . He would be forever grateful to McGonagall for teaching some of the Aurors that trick. He put his dragonskin overcoat in the small expanded pouch all Aurors had and made his way to the lobby.
The guide he was meeting was chatting with one of the tourists, seemingly giving them directions. Harry immediately knew it was his guide when their eyes met and the man excused himself from the family, giving the older man a friendly pat on the back before they left the hotel. The blonde-haired man immediately began making his way over to Harry, grinning,with his arm held out to shake.
"Ah, Mister Potter, please accept my apologies for the delay in seeing you. Unfortunately, something came up at our offices that briefly required all hands on deck." Seeing Harry was about to question what the problem was, the man released his hand and hastily added, "Oh, it wasn't anything too serious, a false alarm mostly, but with the recent activity the President isn't taking any chances."
That sounded ominous to Harry–he was well aware of similar events in the Ministry, but that was a rarity. When it was all hands on deck, it usually involved something that took a lot longer than an hour to sort out.
"Hmm."
Harry made a non-committal noise and gestured the still unnamed wizard to lead on to wherever MACUSA visitor entrances were. Well, it wasn't really his business to criticize MACUSA's day-to-day operations, he was here, as Robards and Kingsley had made plain, to act as their expert consultant, and nothing else. Merlin help any foreign Auror that dared question the running of any department not their own.
Walking back through the lobby, Harry was still trying to get the American names correct in his head. He gave a smile and nod to Ashley who was looking thoroughly bored at her current lack of work. Just as they passed through the revolving doors, the man turned back.
"By the way, I'm Jesse Adams, Auror Captain in charge of the New York Department. Welcome to America, Auror Potter."