Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Pheeeew! Oh my goodness, I am so incredibly sorry that it's been so long since I last updated! It was a combination of me being incredibly busy, incredibly stressed, suffering from writer's block, or away on vacation. Those four things combined stopped me from writing for quite a while.
But I'm back now, and I really hope I can make up for the lack of activity. I am still absolutely determined to finish this story, even if it's 2028 before I do (I certainly don't plan on taking that long, though). I really hope all of my readers are doing well.
I actually had a PM conversation about this, but in case there were any concerns from other readers on this matter, I wanted to assure everyone that I gave some very deep thought to who does and doesn't know about the Horcruxes. Yes, the security risks are definitely magnified, with several Order members knowing about them, but that's why I only have a few of them possessing that knowledge rather than the entire Order. I think that if they were captured, they would be ready to guard that information, and know how to do it properly. It's true that we don't know about very many people knowing Occlumency in the series, but I've always had the feeling that the more seasoned members do know how to harness the powers of their minds. Plus, with the way you'll see me handle things later in the story, I hope I will be able to reassure you that the right decision was made regarding who knows and who doesn't.
And, of course, I have even fewer people knowing that Harry is one. What would happen to Harry if Voldemort came upon that information would be catastrophic, in my opinion. Voldemort wouldn't want to kill him anymore, but I believe very strongly that he'd make Harry WISH he were dead. He certainly wouldn't let him go free and live his life, that's for sure. I've actually seen a few fics that explore that possibility, and YOUCH. Just thinking about that sends shivers down my spine.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Every single thing that is said about the American wizarding world and how they conduct their business is entirely made up. It doesn't come from Pottermore or anything like that. I wanted to use my own imagination for this part, and I hope you all enjoy what I've come up with.
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Growing up, Harry had often been reminded of the fact that he was no good for anything. He was only kept around to cook, clean, and do other chores around the Dursleys' house. Dudley made it his life's mission to taunt him with everything he was allowed to do, and everything Harry wasn't allowed to do.
And that included going away on holiday.
Every summer, Harry was left with Mrs. Figg for at least a week or two while Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley went away somewhere. They would talk in extra-loud voices, entirely because they knew Harry would be able to hear every word, about the warm, sunny places they would be travelling to, and all the things they would do there. They would assure Dudley that he would be allowed to eat all the junk food he wanted, and to stay up late into the night. Every time Dudley saw Harry in the days before they would leave for their destination, he'd sport a gormless grin as he'd shove yet another enormous chocolate bar into his mouth.
What his so-called family didn't realize was that they were not upsetting Harry by constantly telling him he couldn't go. It would be the last thing he wanted, to go on holiday with the Dursleys, of all people. He couldn't imagine sitting in a restaurant while Uncle Vernon spouted about the awfulness of that country's government, Aunt Petunia turned her nose up at the people sitting at the next table, making derisive coments about their style of dress, and Dudley whined about how his portion of food wasn't large enough. As much as he was desperately bored staying with Mrs. Figg, he was glad to be rid of the Dursleys for however long they were gone.
Now that he knew that Dumbledore had been the one to place him there, he wondered if the old man had known whenever the Dursleys went away, and whether he had extra people on guard to look for Death Eater activity around Harry's area. And sometimes, more recently, he couldn't help but muse on whether Dumbledore had ever wondered why he didn't go with them. Because, if they were truly a happy family, why wouldn't their nephew have gone on holiday too?
And now, it had finally come to be that Harry was in another country. And he was in another country with someone he loved with all his heart, a man who would stop at nothing to take care of him. If this was any other circumstance, Harry would have cherished every moment of it.
But that was the thing - Harry certainly wasn't on holiday. They weren't going to spend time relaxing on beaches or going on amusement park rides. No, not at all.
Harry was here, in the United States of America, because he and Sirius were going to see two of the top Mind Healers in the country, courtesy of Arnold Dixon. They were going to explain the research they had done, the research that would tell Harry and Sirius whether the boy could survive having a part of Voldemort's soul removed from him.
It all seemed so far-fetched and surreal. The circumstances for this time away from Britain couldn't have been worse.
But still, even with knowing all this, Harry couldn't help but marvel at where they were. He couldn't relax completely, but it was as though his surroundings were trying to contradict his state of mind.
Because Rock Hall, Maryland, was truly a beautiful place.
He remembered Dudley's constant complaints of "jetlag" when the Dursleys had arrived home from travelling. And of course, he had never been in another time zone before. But now, here he was, on the East Coast of the United States, and the time was 4:45 PM on a Friday afternoon. He and Sirius had left Sturgis's evening gathering fifteen minutes earlier, and it had been 9:30 PM. It was infinitely strange to Harry, because it had already been 4:45 PM once today.
When he and Sirius had arrived back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had flooed Dixon. They'd made the plan that Dixon would bring them to Rock Hall right after the evening gathering had ended. There were many times when the gathering would run longer than the two hours Sturgis had originally planned, which the Order had absolutely no problem with - in fact, they cherished the times when Sturgis had them there for longer.
Within minutes of Harry and Sirius's return, Dixon had arrived, and whisked them away. Harry understood that none of it was legal. Dixon had explained that neither the British Ministry nor Saint Mungo's had any clue about this house in Maryland. Several people - Sturgis, Minerva, Moody, and Bill - knew that Sirius and Harry were going to the USA this weekend, but not where. It was an enormous country, after all. None of them questioned it, as they understood that this was for security reasons.
Neither Harry nor Sirius had felt at all well when they arrived, for the simple reason that they weren't used to travelling such a long distance in only several seconds. It put a lot of strain on the body, and any witch or wizard who did this was told to drink a potion before their departure. Even though both Harry and Sirius had done so, their bodies still hadn't adapted well to it, but Dixon had told them this was perfectly understandable. "I assure you, you will feel better in an hour or so," he'd said as he poured two large glasses of water, and handed one to each of them upon their arrival in the beautiful house's kitchen.
Harry still felt rather shaky as he observed his surroundings. He, Sirius, and Dixon were sitting at the very comfortable kitchen table. It gave off an atmosphere of reassurance, and it was very charming.
Dixon instantly started cooking them a meal, completely the Muggle way. Harry still felt like the entire world was spinning around him as he watched him work. He'd offered to help, as had Sirius, but Dixon had declined. "You need to sit down," he told them very sternly, in a voice that was very similar to Madam Pomfrey's when she was telling Harry off for overexerting himself when he'd been injured playing Quidditch, and after his ordeal with the Philosopher's Stone.
But Harry realized that it wasn't just his physical body that felt like it had been overtaxed - he felt rather overwhelmed inside, too, especially after the last few days. And Sirius was in a far worse state than he was.
Harry knew that Sirius's confrontation with Dumbledore had not gone at all well. Harry would never forget how tightly Sirius had hugged him afterwards, and how he'd kept whispering apologies in Harry's ear. He'd explained in a barely audible whisper that he hadn't been able to handle speaking to Dumbledore without saying truly terrible things.
Harry's heart ached for Sirius. He could see how his guardian was barely coping with the news that Harry might have to sacrifice himself in order for Voldemort to be defeated, and how he blamed Dumbledore for so much of what had happened in his godson's life.
Harry didn't know what exact "terrible things" Sirius said to Dumbledore, and he knew the man would admit it if Harry asked. But, to be honest, Harry really didn't want to know. What had happened between Sirius and Dumbledore was between them, and it was their business.
"It's okay, Sirius. You don't have to tell me." Harry hated how Sirius's gray eyes looked so haunted again - they hadn't looked quite like that for some time now. He could see the fear in the man's eyes, that if Harry truly knew what he'd said to Dumbledore, that he would be disappointed in him.
Was it for that reason that Harry didn't want to know? Was he being a coward, afraid of the depths that Sirius could sink to when angry?
No. Harry realized that that wasn't the reason at all. Because, Merlin, he knew all too well what Sirius was capable of doing when angry, and yet, he knew just how much Sirius had been trying to better himself. The true reason why Harry didn't want to know was because he knew how hard Sirius was trying to face his demons for him. And if, this time, he'd fallen short, who was Harry to judge him?
Everyone fell short sometimes, after all. That certainly didn't justify anyone's behavior, or make it all okay. It didn't give them a free pass.
But, it could be used as a learning experience, to stop the same thing from happening again.
And, in the deepest, darkest part of Harry, there was another reason, too. He still thought that Albus Dumbledore hadn't been trying to hurt him, or purposely ruin his life. He knew that deep down, Dumbledore cared about Harry and wanted him to survive.
But maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that felt completely and utterly betrayed by the old man. And if Sirius had said something terrible to him ... well ...
So, yeah. Maybe it wasn't all for altruistic reasons why Harry didn't want Sirius to have to admit what he'd said. But as they'd sat on the couch together at Grimmauld Place several hours after the awful confrontation, they came to an understanding. Harry promised to help Sirius recover from the ordeal, and Sirius held Harry tightly, whispering "I'm sorry" until Harry told him in no uncertain terms to stop apologizing.
And then, both Sirius and Harry had found out that although Dumbledore was still part of the Order, he had stepped aside and allowed Sturgis to continue to run the meetings. It was a rather shocking turn of events, and both godfather and godson wondered whether Sirius and Dumbledore's confrontation had led him to make that decision. Harry saw a mixture of confusion and satisfaction marring Sirius's face, and Harry couldn't pretend that he didn't have mixed emotions about the entire affair, as well.
But one thing was for certain - Harry and Sirius trusted Sturgis to lead the Order in the right direction. He had done more for the organization than anyone could have ever expected. It was normal, now, to depend on his wisdom and advice.
"How are you feeling?"
Harry jumped; he had been so deep in thought that for a moment, he had forgotten that Dixon was in the room. He looked over at Sirius, who had been taking deep breaths as he tried to recover from the nausea and dizziness from the long-distance travel.
"A little better," Sirius said, and Harry nodded in agreement. "Merlin - how do you do that all the time?"
"The human body learns to adapt to it," Dixon replied as the oven beeped, signalling that it had finished preheating and the chicken Dixon was preparing was ready to go in. "It takes some witches and wizards longer than others. Some, like myself, are now entirely okay with it, although I still have to swallow a potion before the Portkey activates."
Harry, though still recovering himself and feeling jittery about what this weekend would bring, couldn't help but start to be intrigued by their surroundings. The moment they'd arrived, the sound of many birds singing had filled the backyard, and the deck chairs looked very inviting indeed. Even though it was now October, the weather was nice and sunny. They might not be on holiday, but seeing Dixon here, cooking dinner and looking very comfortable, made his heart feel a little lighter.
Remember your own words, Harry, he told himself as he recalled telling Sirius that Dixon was still hopeful for a positive outcome. The entire reason he had brought him here was to ensure Harry's survival. All hope was not lost if Dixon was making such a special effort for him.
But now - now that this was truly happening and Harry was somewhere so unfamiliar - it took everything in him not to let in the fear and doubt. What if the Mind Healers realized that they couldn't do anything for Harry? What if they told him they couldn't remove the Horcrux, and therefore, if Voldemort were ever to be defeated, Harry had to -
No. No. No. Harry pushed the thoughts away with a vengeance. Don't think like that. Thinking this way isn't healthy. You have to be strong. Be strong for Sirius. Trust Dixon.
He also remembered Sturgis's face before he and Sirius had left his house this evening. They had been the last ones to leave, and he recalled with crystal clarity the way Sturgis held his shoulders in a strong, yet comforting grip, just the way he had when asking Harry to remember that he had saved lives the night Sirius had told him about the prophecy. "Focus on the lives you saved, not on the ones you couldn't."
And this time, his grip had been just as strong and reassuring. "It will be all right."
It was five simple words, but they held a spark of conviction so strong that if Harry held onto it, it would turn into a flame. Sturgis's faith was absolute, and this gave Harry hope. And no matter what happened this weekend, he knew he had to keep holding onto that hope.
"We told you, Arnold. We're not hungry," Sirius said, sounding exhausted.
"And that is, precisely, why you need to eat." Dixon wasn't budging. "Yes, I know that you only ate a few hours ago, and that you still aren't at your best. But nourishment is how the body adapts to travel such as this. I assure you that as soon as you eat, you will feel better. There is somewhere I would like to take you this evening."
"But isn't the appointment with the Healers tomorrow?" Harry asked, taking a deep breath to control his nerves.
Dixon smiled at Harry, his expression all too knowing. "Yes, it is. That has not changed. But, alas, there is somewhere we will be going this evening."
Harry realized that there were some things about Dixon that reminded him of Dumbledore - mainly, his mannerisms and speech patterns. The jumble of confused emotions he felt for his old Headmaster swelled up inside him again as he sipped at the glass of water Dixon had given him.
"I will explain over dinner," Dixon said as he began washing some potatoes. "If you wish to, you may explore the house while I am cooking."
Harry realized that even though he still wasn't feeling great, he had to get up and move around. Exploring this house would be the perfect distraction from the thoughts and feelings bombarding his brain.
Dixon had already explained where Harry and Sirius would be sleeping. Dixon would be downstairs, while Harry and Sirius would be upstairs. Sirius had told Harry in no uncertain terms that he would take the bed, while Sirius would take the couch that could turn into a bed. There was a door that separated the bedroom from the upstairs living area, which would give both godfather and godson privacy, yet neither would be far away from the other. It seemed a very ideal situation.
So, they decided to explore the downstairs first. Walking out of the kitchen, they entered a very cozy living room. There were couches, chairs, and a television inside.
"You okay, kiddo?" Sirius's voice was gentle as they walked side by side into the room. The walls were lined with pictures of Arnold Dixon at different stages of his life. Harry couldn't help but smile at one of him at about the age of thirteen. He was looking admiringly at a man who looked very much like him - Harry guessed it was his father. He was holding a book in his hands, and the title read: "Twelfth Night - William Shakespeare".
"Yeah. I'm feeling a little better." Harry said truthfully. "You?"
"Me, too. I've only ever travelled like that twice before - James and I went with Mr. and Mrs. Potter to an island called Antigua, in the Easter holidays of our sixth year at Hogwarts. The Potters acquired a Portkey there and back, although, of course, it was a legal one."
Harry was fascinated. "Where's Antigua?" he asked curiously.
"It's in the Caribbean," Sirius explained. "It's gorgeous there. It's warm and sunny, and the food is delicious. One day, I will take you there," Sirius promised. "I would very much love to see it again."
Even though Sirius was trying his best not to show it, Harry heard the underlying desperation in his voice. One day, I will take you there ... if tomorrow's appointment didn't have the desired results ...
But Harry had to give Sirius hope. "I'm looking forward to it," he said quietly, looking into Sirius's gray eyes. "I'd love to go."
They locked eyes for an intense moment, and Harry, unable to help himself, embraced Sirius. There were no more words on the matter exchanged between them, but there didn't need to be.
There was still more of the house to explore, so they left the living room and found yet another room. This one, too, had couches in it, and several pictures on the walls. Harry had been intrigued to discover that there had been a television in the living room - most witches and wizards didn't own such appliances, after all. But Dixon had explained before that he was Muggle-born, and that his heritage still meant a lot to him. Apparently, that television was a prime example. This caused Harry to think of Hermione and how, sadly, she never spoke of her parents much at all.
This room was very different - there were certainly no Muggle appliances in here. Instead, there were bookshelves, and both Harry and Sirius explored the many books and papers that lined them.
"What is this complete and utter obsession with William Shakespeare?" Sirius exclaimed. "I heard Lily talk about his plays and sonnets before, but ... blimey! Dixon must own every single one!"
Sure enough, the entire bookshelf was covered with all things William Shakespeare. Harry remembered Dudley scoffing and sneering the summer after his third year as he explained to his less-than-impressed parents that his teacher had made them study Romeo and Juliet. "What a bunch of namby-pamby nonsense," Aunt Petunia had sneered, while Vernon had blustered that "big boys shouldn't be learning that rubbish".
Harry hadn't read anything of Shakespeare himself, but anything the Dursleys found objectionable was normally a good thing. He almost laughed at the look he imagined would be on their faces if they ever stepped inside this room.
"I don't think Dixon would mind if you took a look at one of these books," Sirius said, smiling softly as he observed the look on Harry's face.
"I'll go and ask him," Harry said quietly, knowing that Sirius was probably right but not wanting to assume any such thing.
A minute later, he was back in the room. "Dixon said he didn't mind," he said as he walked over to the shelf and grabbed Romeo and Juliet, taking it over to a chair and sitting down next to Sirius.
"You know what? I think I'll grab one of those myself," Sirius said as he, too, grabbed a book off the shelf. It was Twelfth Night.
And, minutes later, Harry and Sirius were in deep discussion over what, exactly, William Shakespeare was supposed to be saying in these plays, because the language was very hard to decipher. "How in Merlin's name does Dixon understand this bloke at all?" Sirius said with a laugh.
Harry had never been so happy to see his godfather laughing. "Beats me," he said as he flipped a page. "I reckon Hermione would get it, though. If she ever came in here, she'd never leave."
Sirius chuckled again, the warmth of the sound filling Harry up and warming him from the inside. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.
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When Dixon called them into the kitchen for dinner, Harry and Sirius felt much better, although they still weren't hungry. But they weren't about to continue arguing with Dixon.
"So what's this whole thing with that Shakespeare bloke you've got going there?" Sirius asked as Dixon placed three heaping plates of chicken, baked potatoes, and broccoli on the table.
Dixon snorted, a rather undignified sound coming from him. "Only a wizard would refer to William Shakespeare as a "bloke"," he said in an amused tone. "He's one of the most renowned Muggle playwrights of all time, you know. My dad teaches courses about Shakespeare at a university in Cornwall, and he insisted that I have all his plays and sonnets in my possession."
"Blimey, how does he get the students to learn anything? I can't understand a word he's saying," Sirius insisted while taking a bite of chicken.
Dixon only smiled. "Many a student has studied Shakespeare," he stated. "And yes, his work is difficult to understand, but my dad is one of those souls who can help others decipher it."
There was silence for several minutes while all three occupants of the kitchen munched on their meal. "This is really delicious," Harry said, meaning it. The chicken was exceedingly tender, the potatoes were done to perfection, and the broccoli was just the right consistency. "Thank you for doing all of this for us," he said quietly.
Harry knew, of course, of the deep betrayal Sirius still felt towards Dixon for not revealing this life-changing information about Harry earlier. But he knew that his godfather would realize how difficult discussing it had been. Plus, he had wanted to know that the Mind Healers' research would work before giving them hope that Harry could come through this.
But Harry was glad that Dixon had had a change of heart. As uncertain as things were right now, Harry had always felt that he did better with more information. And now, Dixon was allowing them to stay in this beautiful place, so they could prepare themselves for whatever was to come. Harry felt as though the man's generosity was also his form of apologizing. "You're welcome," Dixon said with a smile.
Harry wanted to ask Dixon questions about Dumbledore's time here, but didn't. For one thing, he didn't want to hurt Sirius by mentioning the Headmaster in front of him. For another, he knew that none of it was his business - as unsettled as he felt about the old man, he deserved his privacy.
So, instead, he asked Dixon, "How long have you had this place? How did you find it?"
Dixon smiled again. "It's paradise, isn't it?" he said with a kind of reverence that perfectly captured all of its beauty. "I came upon it three and a half years ago. One of my contacts in the American government was always mentioning the Chesapeake Bay, and I was curious. I just happened to be driving through this area when I noticed that this house was for sale. It's one of those times when I think that divine intervention was involved. It seemed to be more than mere happenstance."
The way Dixon was speaking was again reminding Harry of Dumbledore. Something struck him about what he had said. "Driving?" he asked in surprise, as not many witches and wizards had cars. Arthur, of course, had had the flying Ford Anglia before its unfortunate meeting with the Forbidden Forest, and Sturgis had informed Harry that he and Kingsley Shacklebolt both had cars. But other than them, Harry couldn't think of any other witches and wizards who did.
"There are more Muggle-borns who have cars than you think," Dixon explained. "Even some purebloods do, surprisingly enough. I can't say that I use it very often, but I do have a driver's license."
"Let me guess. You used magic to acquire it," Sirius said as he took a large bite of baked potato.
"As a matter of fact, I did not," Dixon contradicted him. "I didn't believe that it would be proper to do such a thing. If I was to drive like a Muggle, I wouldn't cheat by using magic. I thought it blatantly unfair."
That certainly gave Sirius food for thought, and Harry nodded.
Dixon smiled. "I do use this car to drive through the town here," he informed them. "If you're willing to stay past your appointment tomorrow, I can drive you through it. We can stop at a restaurant if you'd like - there are some fantastic choices for food and drink. And," he looked at Sirius and Harry meaningfully, "I will pay for your meals."
Sirius looked shocked at the offer, and Harry felt exceedingly uncomfortable. "We couldn't ask you to do that!" he exclaimed.
"You aren't asking. I'm offering," Dixon said, his expression gentle. Looking at them earnestly, he continued, "I know that the situation you are both in is ..." He stopped, unable to find the correct word.
Traumatic? Unbearable? Horrible? Frightening? There were many words to pick from, and Dixon seemed to understand that. "I would like to make your stay here as comfortable as possible," he said quietly. "I will be staying until Sunday evening. I know you planned only to stay until your appointment ends tomorrow afternoon, but this place offers many opportunities for healing and recuperation. I'm not telling you what to do, but I'm leaving the door open for you to stay here until Sunday evening, and return to Britain then."
Harry felt a surge of gratitude swell within him, and despite how Sirius was feeling about Dixon, he couldn't help but look the same. "We'll think about it," he replied, and Harry nodded.
"Good." Dixon nodded back. After a few minutes of silence, he continued, "Now, I would like to explain to you where we're going this evening. It starts with a bit of American history."
He cleared his throat, as if to begin an important lecture, and it piqued both Harry and Sirius's interest.
"Obviously, you have both heard of the Department of Mysteries at the British Ministry," Dixon said, receiving nods from both Sirius and Harry. Sirius, after all, had explained to his godson that the Department of Mysteries contained an orb which held that thrice-damned prophecy between himself and Voldemort. Harry had asked what else the department contained, and couldn't help but be fascinated by Sirius's answer.
"Well," Dixon went on, "it will probably not surprise you that American witches and wizards have something very similar. This is one of the places I will be taking you tonight."
"What?" Sirius asked in sheer confusion, and Harry knew he was wearing the same expression.
"I promise to explain further once we arrive," Dixon stated firmly. "But first, I would like to offer some more historical facts about this country. Unlike Britain, the American Ministry of Magic is not just one building. The United States is such a massive country that there are several Ministry buildings, with each one containing several specialized departments."
Harry had really never thought about how wizarding governments worked in other countries. When students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had come to Hogwarts, Harry had been interested and enthusiastic at first, but once his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, he realized how self-absorbed he had become, and felt rather ashamed of it now. He had spent so long worrying about the tasks that he had stopped thinking about the cultures of the visiting students.
But now, he was getting an opportunity to learn about the country he was visiting, and he vowed to put any of his own worries aside so that he could give this his full attention. The Dursleys had, obviously, never been interested in teaching Harry anything worth learning. He honestly felt rather stupid compared to other children his age.
It seemed like Sirius hadn't known any of this either, though, because he was looking just as fascinated. "I'm guessing that American magicals are under the Statute of Secrecy, too?" he asked.
"Yes," Dixon said, and went into detail about the Salem Witch Trials. "It was a terrible time," he explained. "Many of the people accused weren't witches at all. They were Muggles, and they were brutally murdered for no reason. Fear motivates people to do horrific things."
Harry nodded, shuddering as he thought of the murder accusations that had been levelled against him without there ever being any concrete evidence. And it had been fear that had driven many to believe it - fear and denial about Voldemort having returned, so they needed an alternate explanation.
Dixon saw Harry's expression, and nodded sadly. "Exactly," he said as Harry's mind filled with sympathy for all of the people who had been cruelly murdered because they had been accused of things they hadn't done.
"British witches and wizards, when they are in areas highly populated by Muggles, only use magic when they know that no Muggle is in their midst," Dixon went on. "Otherwise, of course, they will get in deep trouble with the Ministry. There have been occasions when a witch or wizard has had their wand snapped for that very reason."
Harry remembered the time when Dobby had used magic on that disastrous occasion with the Dursleys and the Masons, and Harry had been the one blamed for doing it. He recalled how the letter from the Ministry had threatened him with expulsion if it ever happened again.
"Here, in the United States, it is much the same way," Dixon continued. "But there are also several wizarding towns in different states, which can be accessed in similar ways to how Diagon Alley is visited. Though they're scattered all over the country, there is one main place where many people go to, which is located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
"Philadelphia is a very special place, both for Muggles and wizards alike," Dixon explained as he discussed several facets of American history, such as the Declaration of Independence and how it had been the nation's very first Capital. "In a moment, I will explain why the main wizarding district was built there."
"Is there a school there, too?" asked Harry, completely riveted.
"Yes, there is, but surprisingly, it's rather a small one," Dixon replied. "This seems to contradict everything I have told you about the city, but due to Salem's significance in history, the biggest American school for witchcraft and wizardry is there."
Harry didn't quite know how he felt about that. It felt like they were taking a Muggle tragedy and using it for their own ends. But in a way, it wasn't at all surprising. There were times that the wizarding world seemed to operate in that kind of way.
There was silence for a moment, and then Dixon continued. "There are several other wizarding schools scattered throughout the country," he stated. "Many of them are in the same places as the other wizarding districts. However, there are several places where magic isn't to be used at all."
Harry was taken aback. "Really?" he asked. "Why not?"
"The very first American President, George Washington, knew about the magical world," Dixon answered. "Everyone who has succeeded him for the Presidency has also found out about it, in case there is a catastrophic event that involves magic. Damage control," he said quietly. "And, upon Washington's first meeting with the American Minister of Magic, he convinced him that some concessions would have to be made. If there were to be wizarding districts, there had to be Muggle ones as well. Safe places, as it were, where magic was not to be used. Washington argued that the Ministry was not to interfere in those places. A document was drawn up, and Washington got the Minister at the time, Benjamin Foster, to agree to it and sign it. The American Ministry keeps track of all witches and wizards, and where they're located in the country. Harsh punishments are given to any witch or wizard who disobeys the deal."
Harry was shocked. "Has anyone ever tried? And which places can't witches and wizards go?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"There have been several who tried, and they were thrown in an American wizarding prison, which there is also more than one of. They have many similarities to Azkaban," Dixon said, a very serious expression on his face. "The two places I know of - one is the state of Delaware, which isn't far from here at all. No witch or wizard can step foot in that entire state - the Minister conceded to Washington on that one. The only exceptions are if a magical person drives through it, but does not stop."
Sirius had his mouth open in surprise. "So no witch or wizard can live in the entire state of Delaware? That's ... that's so strange!"
Dixon nodded. "The other one I know of is in the state of Minnesota, but it's not the entire state. This actually happened much more recently - there was an incident in the city of Minneapolis, where the Statute of Secrecy was almost broken. The President would not allow any more magic to be done there, and all witches and wizards who were living there had to move out. The Minister had to concede."
"Blimey." Sirius exclaimed. "I can't imagine that the Minister was happy about it."
"He wasn't." Dixon agreed wholeheartedly.
"Are there any others?" Harry asked. The more he was learning, the more information he wanted. He could honestly understand why the President had made that decision - if wizards were to have their own communities, then Muggles should be granted the same rights. Throughout his time in the wizarding world, he had seen the narrowmindedness of a lot of magical folk. Even those who cared about Muggle welfare didn't seem to understand them properly, while others were very much afraid of them. They allowed their fear to turn into derision, and called them wastes of space. From there, the Death Eater ideology had formed.
"I cannot remember any others currently, but every now and then, American Presidents are trying to bargain with the Ministers of Magic for more locations," Dixon explained. "Right now, there's a part of North Carolina that's under consideration, but the Minister of Magic is currently in negotiations with the President. He does not want that to happen.
"But I haven't finished with the historical aspects of this. The reason why the Minister gave up the entire state of Delaware to Washington was because Washington attempted to ask for Philadelphia. The Minister point-blank refused to give it up. They were in negotiations about it for weeks, until they finally reached a compromise. The Muggles got the entire state of Delaware, and as for Philadelphia ..."
"They got the main wizarding district. That's why it was built there," Sirius said with dawning understanding. "And the rest of the city is all Muggle."
"Exactly. No witch or wizard is to inhabit any part of the city which isn't strictly wizarding," Dixon said with a nod.
Harry and Sirius stared at their host, taking in all that he had said. Eventually, Sirius asked, "But what does this have to do with where you're taking us tonight?"
"Ah." Dixon smiled. "It has everything to do with it, because I'm taking you to Philadelphia."
xxx
Dixon had simply side-along Apparated Sirius to their destination, and he'd then come back for Harry. Thankfully, since it was not a super long-distance trip like the one from England to America had been, no one suffered any ill effects. They had both discovered that Dixon was right, and eating a fulfilling meal had helped them to feel fully well again.
All three of them were now standing in front of a building that looked like it had been long abandoned. But Harry and Sirius knew that Dixon wouldn't have taken them here if it didn't mean something. Witches and wizards were known, after all, to hide their magic behind buildings that looked this way.
Dixon had been very mysterious about exactly why he was taking them here, but Harry recalled how their conversation had started - with the Department of Mysteries. Why had he begun the discussion with that? It was rather disconcerting, and neither godfather nor godson knew what to think.
Before they'd left, Dixon had also disguised them. He had used several Transfiguration spells to make them look different, but he had explained that they wouldn't last long. "It's okay," he had reassured them. "What I have planned for this evening will take a shorter time than it will for the spells to wear off. Don't worry."
It wasn't at all a surprise that, although he was far less famous here, the name Harry Potter was still known in America. And Harry's safety was paramount, especially if there were any magic folk here who were sympathetic to Voldemort's cause. Both Harry and Sirius were highly relieved that Dixon had taken such precautions.
Dixon drew out his wand, and performed an action which looked very similar to how the wizarding population entered Diagon Alley. After he tapped it on certain parts of the wall, it was as though a magical doorway opened, revealing the entrance to a hustling, bustling wizarding district that made Harry and Sirius let out audible gasps.
The streets before them bore a great resemblance to Diagon Alley, but the place looked very different somehow. It was much bigger, and a loudspeaker was playing joyful music as delicious smells permeated the air. The streets were absolutely packed with witches and wizards.
Harry's eyes were impossibly wide as he stared around. "Wow," he breathed, unable to think of anything else to describe his feelings about this place. He would have thought he'd be claustrophobic, like he was when he had entered the Ministry atrium for the first time after he'd come out of hiding, but strangely, he felt no such thing. The energy of the place seemed to remove all fear and uncertainty.
"As you can see, once the compromise was agreed to, the then Minister of Magic made no bones about making this place special," Dixon said, grinning widely. "It took endurance, perseverance, love, and devotion to make it what it is. Days and days of time spent, so much attention. I don't know of a single witch or wizard who doesn't thoroughly appreciate all the patience and hard work that was put into it. This was done by people who truly cared."
There was certainly something about this environment that filled you up from the inside out, and you were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Joy seemed to radiate from every corner, and it was contagious. The energy thrummed and thrived, and Harry truly felt alive for the first time in days. Beside him, Sirius was grinning, and Harry felt his heart grow incredibly light.
The next hour was spent in rather an overwhelming haze as Dixon took Harry and Sirius for a tour of the city. There were a great amount of streets before them, which contained all kinds of wizarding shops and restaurants. Even though Harry and Sirius had already eaten, they saw no problem in stopping at an ice cream parlor for dessert.
"Blimey, this is better than old Fortescue's!" Sirius exclaimed as he munched on his two scoops of chocolate ice cream sundae with hot fudge sauce and chocolate chips.
"Yeah, and I didn't think that was possible," Harry replied, momentarily forgetting every single one of his worries.
Dixon grinned at them. "I'm glad you approve," he said before taking a bite of his own black raspberry ice cream.
xxx
Once they had finished their dessert, Dixon led Harry and Sirius to a section of the district that had far less people. They arrived in front of a building that reminded them very much of one in their own country. "This," Dixon said as they arrived at the door, "is one of the American Ministry buildings."
Harry realized that unlike the British Ministry building, you could simply get in through the door by using the right wand movements. The building was visible to the naked eye, which was different from Britain. To get into the British Ministry, visitors had to use that strange phone box that looked permanently out of use to any Muggle.
Sirius was thinking along the same lines, because he said, "I suppose that's because this district is strictly wizarding, right? That's why this place doesn't have to hide itself."
"Exactly." Dixon nodded as he opened the door, leading the way into a silent atrium. There was nobody in here, except the three of them and a guard, who was standing at a desk.
Feeling a little uncertain now, Harry and Sirius followed Dixon to the desk, where the Mind Healer handed over a badge and had a whispered conversation with the guard that neither Harry nor Sirius were able to make out. After a minute, the guard simply nodded, and motioned for Harry, Sirius, and Dixon to be on their way.
They walked to a set of lifts, which Dixon explained were called "elevators" in this country. As they entered, Sirius blurted out, "Arnold, what is this? Why are we here?"
The apprehension Harry had stopped feeling while exploring the busy part of the wizarding district returned in full force. Dixon's face grew intensely serious then, as the elevator door closed and Dixon pressed the button for level 5. "Here, in this very building, lies something that will make this weekend infinitely easier for you," he murmured quietly as the sensation of going up began.
Confused by the declaration, Harry looked at Dixon. Sirius looked wholly disconcerted. "What do you mean?" he demanded suspiciously.
The elevator stopped, and an automated voice announced, "Level 5. The Hallway of Humanity."
This was getting entirely too strange. Harry felt his suspicion rise higher as the elevator door opened. "Hallway of what?" He knew his voice was full of confusion.
As they exited the elevator, the hallway before them seemed very dark and dreary, and the floor seemed to be littered with rubbish. Several old tissues lay on the carpet, and a newspaper was lying abandoned next to them. Upon picking it up, Harry discovered that it was an American wizarding newspaper that was dated an entire week ago.
But Arnold Dixon didn't look the least bit perturbed. "What do you see?" he asked both Harry and Sirius.
"Where the hell have you taken us?" Sirius sounded rather irate now. "Where in Merlin's name are we?"
But Dixon didn't answer the question. "What do you see?" he asked again, very calmly.
"Some old tissues and a newspaper that's a week old," Harry said. Although his tone wasn't as irate as Sirius's, he was starting not to like this at all.
"Ah." Dixon nodded. "I thought this might happen. Neither of you are in the state of mind to get past the illusion, and see what I do. And this is why you need this place tonight."
"Explain." Sirius's voice was curt. "Right now."
Dixon did not take any offense to Sirius's demand, and did as he asked. "In the British Department of Mysteries, there are many unanswered questions that witches and wizards are intrigued by," he explained. "Time. Death. The human mind. Prophecy. And many, many other things. Magic that is not obvious upon first glance."
He took a deep breath, and continued. "Here, in this country, the same kinds of things are being studied. One of the many kinds of magic that people are exploring is that of faith, hope, and belief. Many do not think of these things as magic - but they are some of the most natural forms of it."
As had happened this evening over dinner, Harry felt his curiosity start to rise. He looked down again at the abandoned, week-old newspaper that lay on the ground. "What are you saying?" he asked quietly.
"This week, both you and Sirius have been through a horrible ordeal," Dixon said softly, his eyes very sad. "And tomorrow, you will be tested to your limits again. I have much hope that the Healers will have positive news, but it will still be, I fear, a harrowing conversation. Therefore, I am here to give you the tools to truly prepare for it.
"I am very familiar with the guard who works here. I assure you, he does not know of your situation, but he trusts me. Through one of my contacts in the American government, we were able to explain to the guard that I was bringing two visitors who needed hope and healing at this time."
"Well," Sirius murmured, his face clearly displaying his doubt, "I don't see how this place offers any of that at all. This hallway leaves ... much to be desired." He frowned deeply.
"It is faith, belief, and hope that gets us through the darkest of times," Dixon said, and at that moment, he reminded Harry completely of Sturgis and his evening gatherings. Those always filled him with hope, but this week had been so harrowing that it had been a lot more difficult to hold onto his words.
But now, standing in this hallway, they came back to him again. Sturgis always worked so exceedingly hard to give the Order hope and motivation to get through the struggles of the war. His voice combined with Dixon's as he closed his eyes, trying to find the hope that he had been attempting to give Sirius all week.
"Would you believe me if I told you that the newspaper lying on the ground is not from a week ago, but a current one?" Dixon asked, his voice intense. "Would you believe me if I told you that this hallway is not dark and dreary, but full of dancing lights? There is no rubbish on the floor. It's a clean carpet, and this entire hallway is layered with charms. It's been warded by witches and wizards who have put every ounce of their energy into powering it.
"No, you do not believe me." Dixon nodded in understanding. "That's obvious, because it's not what you see. And there have been times that I have stood in this very hallway, and seen the exact same thing you do."
He looked meaningfully at Harry and Sirius. "The trick," he said softly, "is to find what resides inside every human being. I know that both of you are familiar with how to cast a Patronus."
"Sturgis taught me," Sirius whispered. "When I was in Auror training."
"Professor Lupin taught me almost two years ago," Harry said, feeling his heart pick up speed.
"The witches and wizards who built this hallway charmed it in such a way that the only people who can see it for what it truly is must find the light within them, and therefore lift their soul and spirit out of darkness," Dixon said gently. "Once the hallway opens to them, it will provide a healing experience that is unforgettable."
Harry and Sirius stared at each other, finally understanding exactly what Arnold Dixon was attempting to do for them. But both of them were intensely afraid that they were going to let the man down.
Despite the brave face Harry had been putting on all week, and despite his hope that if Dixon had faith in those American Mind Healers, things would work out ... despite it all, Harry was terrified. He was fifteen years old. Fifteen years old, and he didn't know how much time he had left. Looking at Sirius beside him, and thinking of Sturgis, Emmeline, Moody, Bill, Remus ... thinking of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, thinking of the rest of the Order and all the other Hogwarts students and staff ... thinking of how his parents had sacrificed their lives for him ... Harry was desperate to live. Sirius had shown him this summer that life was precious, something he had never once thought when residing with the Dursleys. He remembered the times when he had almost died at Hogwarts, and he had been so ... resignedly accepting of it.
But now, Harry wanted to live. He realized that, if he had to give up his life in this war, he would do so without a second of hesitation. Because dying would be worth it if his loved ones, and all the other innocent souls, could live in a world without the tyrannical reign of Voldemort. If it took his sacrifice to make that possible, then he would do it.
But he wanted to believe in a future. He wanted to believe that he and Sirius could find their own house, could grow in it and learn to love it. Harry wanted to look at someone the same way he'd seen couples looking at each other in the hallways of Hogwarts. He wanted to experience a world where the specter of Lord Voldemort didn't constantly hang over his shoulder, a life where he could inhabit the British wizarding world as an adult and experience life with the people he loved most in the world.
He looked into Sirius's eyes, and saw the same terror reflected in them. Sirius took Harry's hand and held it tightly, and Harry realized, just by how strong and fierce his grip was, that Sirius was imagining a world without Harry. He heard the man's breathing quicken, and his heart ached. The hallway still remained dark and dreary, the week-old newspaper still lying on the ground, the old, manky tissues next to it.
"Tomorrow is not promised to anyone," Dixon said quietly, but intensely. "But that does not mean we should give into despair. Harry, Sirius. Look at me."
Both godfather and godson turned to look at Dixon. Sirius had been staring at the week-old newspaper, which looked so sad and abandoned.
"Now, I need both of you to look at that paper again. It is not a week old," Dixon said, adopting a severe, stern tone. "That paper contains information that is current. I want you to have faith that that is true. And remember - this hallway does not contain darkness. Believe that the light is there, and it will come. There is also no rubbish on the floor."
"I don't understand." Sirius sounded afraid. "What's the point of all this?"
"In this building, the most primal forms of magic are studied. The kind of magic that many would scoff at," Dixon said softly. "The kind of magic that gets you through the toughest of times. Now, look at that newspaper. It is not a week old. Believe it."
Harry looked down at the newspaper, still displaying last Friday's date, and felt overwhelmed. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to believe that something was there which he just wasn't seeing?
He thought about the Patronus he had cast in third year, when he and Hermione had gone back in time to save Sirius. He had believed he could cast that Patronus because he'd seen himself do it.
And Dixon was telling him that this paper was current, not a week old. But how was Harry supposed to believe a bunch of words?
But then, Harry remembered Sturgis's evening gatherings. He remembered the feeling that they might just win this war, after all, if Sturgis was leading them. He remembered the camaraderie that he and the members of the Order experienced as they laughed and joked together. He remembered the warmth of the firelight as Sturgis read the Daily Prophet out loud, pointing out every discrepancy, every untrue bit of information.
He remembered finding friendship for the very first time, on the Hogwarts Express. He remembered playing chess with Ron, and studying with Hermione. He remembered the warmth of Molly Weasley's embrace, and the teasing and lighthearted banter between himself, Fred, and George.
But most of all, he remembered Sirius. "You're not alone." He would never forget those three words that singer had repeated over and over again, perfectly capturing how he and his godfather felt about each other. He remembered laying his heart bare at Sirius's trial, and Sirius doing the same thing as the entire courtroom heard his side of the story. He remembered the moment when Sirius's freedom was proclaimed - "freed of all charges" - and the overwhelming emotion that had surrounded him on all sides as he embraced his godfather, cherishing each and every second.
And Harry realized then, that no matter how long he had left on this Earth, he wasn't about to waste a second of it. If time was truly running out for him, why spend it in despair? Why not hope for a better tomorrow? Why not continue to love the people who meant the world to him, and become a better person every day he had left?
Harry drew on his magic, on all the happy memories he had, on the faith that he had that this world would become better. He thought about his entrance into the wizarding district of Philadelphia, about how the place seemed to hum and thrum with energy and life. He could feel the devotion, the perseverance, the strength, and the love those people had put into making the place.
And, suddenly, as he looked down at the paper, the date was current. With wonder, his eyes ran over it again - and it was true. Looking up, he saw that the entire hallway was bathed in dancing, sparkling, whirling, twirling, dazzling lights, the sight so overwhelming that it almost bowled him over. The carpet was clean, not a speck of rubbish on it, and the entire place pulsated with energy.
It was the same kind of energy Sturgis gave off every time he saw him. It was almost ... otherworldly in its glow. Sturgis had always seemed to possess some kind of unearthly aura. "It will be all right." He recalled his words after the evening gathering only hours previously, when he'd held Harry's shoulders in that comforting grip. Harry realized that the magic in this corridor was just the same as the energy he had felt when around Sturgis.
He suddenly understood. Magic wasn't always an outward thing, like what could be done with a spell or charm. Some magic was innate, and it could come from inside a person. Harry felt as though he were being embraced by it, touched by it, healed by it in a way he had never felt before.
He turned to look at Sirius, and saw his downcast expression. "You see it, don't you?" his godfather whispered. "I still don't."
Unfortunately, this made sense. Sirius had been in a far worse state this week than Harry had been, and he hadn't yet recovered from his confrontation with Dumbledore. No wonder it was taking him longer to see the hallway in its true form.
Therefore, Harry took Sirius's hand and began to speak to him quietly. He spoke of every single memory they'd shared, of how Sirius was free to live his life as he chose now. His heart broke as he realized that his words still weren't getting through, as Sirius was still imagining a life without Harry, and that just wouldn't do.
"I love you." Harry finally said the words that he hoped would reach his godfather, and he honestly didn't care that he was laying his soul bare in front of Dixon. The Healer had seen the two of them during one of the worst moments of their lives, after all, which had only taken place four days ago.
"I love you, Sirius." Harry whispered, squeezing his godfather's cold hand in his own. "No matter what happens to me, I want you to remember that. I want you to remember that nothing can change that. You're free now, Sirius. I want you to have the kind of life that you deserve."
He sighed, and looked his godfather directly in the eye. "The people who built this place ... they're obviously long dead," he continued, looking at Dixon for confirmation, and he received a nod. "It's wonderful here, Sirius. The magic of this place hasn't faded, even though the people who built it are gone. When I saw my parents in the graveyard ..." He stopped for a moment, feeling the healing magic all around him, sinking into his bones, his marrow, his skin, his heart, his very soul ... "I felt their love around me. When they told me to escape, they'd never meant anything more. I could feel it, Sirius. They might be gone, but they didn't stop loving me. And they love you too, Sirius, as I do. And ... if you believe in this place, you'll know it to be true."
Harry saw Sirius close his eyes, and he squeezed the man's hand again as he took several deep breaths. After an indeterminable amount of time, something in Sirius's face seemed to change as he opened his eyes, staring down at the paper.
Within seconds, he was looking up, an expression of such infinite wonder on his face that it made Harry's heart leap. "You see it," he whispered.
"I see it." Sirius's voice was raw with emotion as he stared around the hallway with a look of open reverence. "What is this place?" he gasped as he turned to look at Dixon.
"Well done, Harry. Well done, Sirius." Dixon smiled at them, his eyes lit with joy. "You found the magic within you, the magic, I believe, that creates the very fabric of our human existence."
And Harry knew, as he continued to feel the energy pulsating around him, that if he were to perform a Patronus Charm right now, it would be the brightest one he'd ever cast.