The process of moving to America is so easy that it's slightly terrifying. Harriet doesn't have a job that will miss her. She had declined Kingsley's offer of an auror position as soon as she realized she was responsible for Teddy. She had taken her NEWTs at the Ministry back before Christmas, so she doesn't have to worry about school. While she responds to the letters she receives, she hasn't actually interacted with anyone other than her housemates in some time. The sight of her friends always causes her chest to tighten with panic, she hasn't made herself endure visits with them in months. Kreacher has done all the shopping, allowing her to keep Teddy at Grimmauld where it's safe. Now that she is having to confront her post war habits, she's beginning to realize how unhealthy her lack of socialization may be for Teddy. Moving might be best for him.

Harriet had met with the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America the prior summer, President Samuel Quahog. She figured that with how enthusiastic the wizard had been in expressing his gratitude for her defeat of Riddle, she might have luck in reaching out to him now. This is how she finds herself exchanging owls with a foreign leader. Her owl, Heracles, a barn owl who's previous owner had died in a raid on Diagon Alley during the war, had made the trips with minimal glaring, though Harriet did have a fresh scar on her finger from a rather aggressive peck from the bird. The tawny owl isn't Hedwig, which is good because Harriet could never dream of replacing her first true friend in this world.

Subscribing to the magical newspaper of New York has helped her as well, allowing her to scout out listings for flats open for rent. She'll need enough space for herself, Teddy, Kreacher, and now Azzy. So, at least four bedrooms. A big ask, apparently.

It's as July comes to an end that everything finally begins lining up for her. President Quahog has helped her navigate establishing citizenship for both her and Teddy, and she finally finds a home meeting all of her (and Kreacher's) requirements. Their belongings are sent ahead of them, set to be waiting for them in their new home. On her nineteenth birthday, Kreacher locks up Grimmauld Place and takes the other end of the piece of rope she holds. Teddy sits securely on her hip, babbling and reaching for the portkey sent to them by the MACUSA president himself. Azrael is nowhere in sight, off attending to his reapers or whatever it is that Death does in his free time. Azzy had assured her in his monotone voice that he would find them in their new flat when he was finished with his daily duties.

Harriet looks around the drawing room of Number 12, chest tight. The shutters on all of the house's windows are closed, the doors and floo are locked, the kitchen empty, and all of the furniture they are leaving behind covered in sheets. Kreacher has assured her multiple times that wards will snap into place as soon as they pop out of existence, putting their home in stasis until they return. If they return. She finds it harder to leave than she originally thought she would. Grimmauld Place is her home, the only true home she has had in her memory. Privet Drive was never more than a roof for her to sleep under, not a home to feel welcome in. The Burrow, while welcoming and homey, was never truly hers, no matter how much she once wished to be, she is not a Weasley. Hogwarts was the closest thing she had to a home in her youth, offering comfort and relative safety, but it was still a school and not a home for her to keep. No, that title has only ever applied to the townhouse left to her by her slightly deranged godfather. The house she grieved in and learned how to keep living. The place that Teddy said his first words and took his first steps. It's hard to imagine that she's leaving her home so soon after finding it.

The air fizzles with magic as the rope portkey begins to activate. Harriet takes one last glance at her first home. This may be the place that she found a home, but the family she's leaving with are what truly made it so.

Harriet hates New York City. Perhaps she hates America. If not, she still definitely hates New York. It's loud and dirty and crowded. The sound of a car backfiring on the street makes her think that she's about to be blasted with a curse. The shove of a shoulder by a person rushing past her makes her feel as if she's once again on a crowded battle ground. The sirens of muggle police remind her of the screams she once had ringing in her ears amidst a field of dead, injured, and grieving. She hates it.

Despite all of this, Harri still manages to find a home of sorts. Begrudgingly, she enrolls Teddy in a childcare program through her new job. A job that Kreacher tried to forbid her from taking. 'The Lady Black should not work like a commoner! Mistress Harriet should bes doing something befitting of her station!' Harriet had had to leave the room before she laughed in the elf's face. That would not have ended well. Just because she was the Black family matriarch (a family that is practically only made up of her and Teddy) that did not mean that she had any intention of acting as nobility. She merely means to hold the family title until Teddy comes of age. The mantle truly belongs to him as one of the last Blacks by blood, other than Narcissa and Draco Malfoy that is. No matter how contrite the Malfoys are over their actions or the fact that she advocated for their innocence at their trials, it would be a cold day in hell before she handed over the family vaults and Wizengamot seat to someone other than her son.

President Quahog had offered her the job himself. She had taken it more out of worry of offending the man who had made her international transition so smooth than anything else. So, Harriet is a full time consultant for the New York City Hit-Wizards. She took the position on the condition that she would not be involved in any field work. It wouldn't do any good for Teddy to lose the only parent he has left because of her innate need to throw herself in the line of fire in the name of protecting someone else. No, those days were over the moment she found herself the caretaker of an infant.

By the first snowfall in the city, the Potter family find themselves settled into their new lives. Every weekday morning, Harri and Teddy get ready for the day and eat the breakfast Kreacher prepares, the elf spends the meal glaring moodily at her as if one day she will finally concede and become a stay at home mother once again. Most mornings Azzy joins them, almost always inspecting the food as if he has never seen such items before. She wonders if Azrael had ever actually eaten anything before joining their family. She assumes that he only eats because he wants to, not out of a biological need. Once breakfast is over, Harriet and Teddy bid their housemates goodbye and walk to the underground. They then take the train to the Woolworth Building. She would much rather apparate or floo, but Teddy enjoys the train and she can hardly deny him anything, let alone a simple train ride. She also is trying to expose herself to more human interaction, hoping the more she does so the less likely she will be to have a panic attack in public. Hermione would call it exposure therapy. Teddy spends his days in the magical daycare and Harriet spends her days looking over case files and strategizing how to stop or capture magical criminals. Dinner is always a family affair upon their return home, her small family gathering around the table to share about their day.

In the few months she has been in the states, she has yet to bring herself to do more than glance at the tall tower with 'Stark' written across the top of it. The sight of the building makes her nauseous, stomach roiling with nerves at the thought of what could await her within. More family? Outright rejection? Indifference? She's not sure which option she prefers.

It's almost Christmas when she finally finds herself approaching the tower, standing on the sidewalk before it and having to crane her neck to look at the top. People hurry past her from all directions, traipsing up and down the sidewalk, in and out of the building. No one pays her any mind. She stands frozen in front of the tower for more than twenty minutes, mind racing as fast as her heart, even as her body doesn't move an inch. It's only when someone plows into her, almost knocking her into the snow covered concrete, that she comes to her senses. The New Yorker hurries on, though manages to spare a moment to curse at her before continuing. Harriet pays them no mind, glancing at the skyscraper once more before turning around and walking in the opposite direction, heart pounding. She needs to finish her holiday shopping.

"You have been in this city for a year."

Harriet startles from where she is doing the dishes by hand. Kreacher had tried to stop her, but she likes to clean the muggle way when she needs to think. Today is her twentieth birthday and she needs to think more than she has in months. Azrael seems to have decided her thoughts need interrupting. She tilts her head, acknowledging his words but not yet answering. Once she rinses the last dish, she dries her hands and turns around, leaning back against the sink. The sound of Kreacher and Teddy watching the telly in the sitting room echoes through the flat, though the elf would never admit that he is just as invested in the cartoon as the two year old.

"We have." Harri finally nods in agreement to his statement.

Azzy stands in the doorway to the kitchen, arms hanging at his side. He wears a plain black t-shirt and dark jeans today, dressed more muggle-like than wizard. He cocks his head, icy eyes staring at her curiously. "You have been in this city for a year, yet you have not contacted your family."

"I wrote to Ron and Hermione just yesterday and answered a letter from Mrs. Weasley before that." Harriet tries to resist the urge to shiver under Death's gaze. Despite practically living with the deity for more than a year, she still finds his presence unnerving at times, especially when the being seems as if he is trying to interrogate her.

"You have not attempted to speak to Anthony Stark since arriving here."

Her gaze flits away from her friend, glancing about the kitchen. Snatching the rag from the sink, she begins to wipe down the counters in an attempt to avoid Azrael's gaze. Sometimes, she feels as if the being can see straight to her soul and she does not like it.

"Morgan Stark is now eight years old." Harriet's left eye twitches but she does not acknowledge his words otherwise. "Anthony Stark has officially retired from the Avengers." Another twitch. "Virginia Potts-Stark has been featured as America's CEO of the Year." She scrubs especially hard at a stubborn spot on the granite countertop. "Harri."

It's silent for several moments before Harriet huffs and tosses the rag back in the sink and turns to her friend. "It's not as simple as you think, Azzy."

"A letter to your father should suffice."

An incredulous laugh escapes her. "A letter? 'Dear Mr. Stark, I am writing to inform you that I am your long lost daughter! Congrats, it's a girl! Let's be an instant family. Sincerely, A Girl You've Never Met.'" Harriet rolls her eyes. "I'm sure that would go over well."

"He should be honored to call you his daughter." Azrael's aura darkens, causing the lights in the kitchen to dim. Such a protective deity-friend-brother.

"Down boy." She pats his shoulder as she passes him, leaving the kitchen. She makes her way into the sitting room, dropping onto the sofa. Teddy and Kreacher sit on the floor before the settee, magnetic tiles spread before them. Neither of them seems to be attempting to build anything, paying full attention to the animated movie on the screen in front of them. Azrael sinks in the seat beside her silently, gaze still focused upon her intently. She sighs and turns to her friend. "I can't just go in and blow up the poor bloke's life, Azzy. He has a wife and kid that he loves. He doesn't need an adult daughter with more baggage than a person is allowed on an airplane waltzing in and ruining their picture perfect family."

"A child is a gift." Death says seriously. Her gaze trails to her own child at his words. "Anthony Stark should rejoice in having you as his daughter. Having Teddy as his grandson."

"Should and would are two very different things, Az." She gives a sad smile. The Dursleys should have loved her as family. They would not, though. She can't put her son through the same treatment.

"Mummy! Pups!" Teddy looks at her excitedly from his position on the floor, pointing at the telly. She smiles indulgently.

"I see, Teddy Bear."

"Us get pups?" Big amber eyes blink up at her pleading, changing to match her own green as he makes the request. Her heart melts at how cute her little boy is.

"Not right now, Teds."

The toddler pouts but turns back to the movie, soon too caught up in the storyline to think anymore of his disappointment.

No, Teddy doesn't deserve to be treated as a second class family member the way she was. She will never let that happen.

"You should reconsider your father, Harri."

A glance out the corner of her eyes shows her friend staring, the feeling of her soul being seen creeps up her spine once more. "We'll see, Azzy."