204Upon Harry's return to the muggle world from his traumatic fourth year at Hogwarts, it was unceremoniously announced the Dursley's were taking a business trip to New York City. Less than a day "home" for the summer and Harry was informed he had to bloody travel halfway around the world with people he utterly despised.
At first, Harry thought this would have been the perfect solution to his relatives problem, where he could have the house in Little Whinging all to himself. The following conversation killed that idyllic daydream. Harry must have overplayed his hand by showing too much relief when they announced they would be taking this trip because his aunt and uncle followed it up by refusing to let him stay home by himself. It was almost as if they believed he would burn the house down or magically explode with his freaky magic. Like he would be stupid enough to do it out of spite.
Despite Harry's many arguments and logical reasoning as to why leaving him at home would be the best idea, his "family" disregarded all of his concerns. Vernon, in particular, put his foot down and said that he was being forced to come. Vernon even threatened to put him on the plane by force or under the plane if necessary. That physical threat meant that the matter was closed in their minds.
His uncle also happened to take excessive glee in banning Hedwig from the trip. The owl was banned from traveling with them on the plane, which ruled out the entire trip. Though it was unknown to Harry or his uncle Vernon, Hedwig could make the trip across the pond if it meant being near Harry. Magical owls had an evolutionary or latent magical genetic homing ability. One that always led them back towards their bonded owners. Unknown to everyone, while Harry was in the air, Hedwig would take off to make the trip. Hedwig would meet them across the pond after almost a day of full flight. The loyal owl could not leave Harry alone. Harry couldn't afford to be cut off from the means of emergency magical communication.
Forcing Harry to go along on this vacation was a trap because he would never be allowed to enjoy it or relax, despite needing it more than anyone else. In preparation for the trip, Harry had packed his school bookbag. He took care to pack his wand hidden inside, wrapped in a pair of boxers, just in case there was a need for it.
In all honesty, Harry didn't know if Voldemort possibly had Death Eaters or other allies in America he had to be on the lookout for. Voldemort did manage to sneak a Death Eater spy into Hogwarts to teach students for the whole year. That didn't rule out the possibility that there could be an ambush. In other words, he had to be ready for what could happen when he least expected it.
On the trip, Harry wasn't allowed to take his bulky school trunk, so he was forced to only take the essentials. Some gold, two changes of clothes, his wand, some wizard sweets, and his defense textbook. Harry wanted to read all he could about defense because of his latest run-in with Voldemort, which ended with him fleeing in abject terror because he was woefully unqualified to duel the monster. All this wrapped together was Harry's attempt to try and make the most of this trip.
On the plane, Vernon had bought his freaky nephew the cheapest seat in the back between two obese American travelers. The tourists were traveling back to their precious homeland of high-fat, sugary foods. They were as big as Vernon, to the point of taking two airplane seats for each cheek of their fat asses. The two passengers flanking Harry's sides looked like they had plunged the UK into famine because of their gluttonous appetites. During this personal hell of being trapped between these heavy-mouth breathers, Harry's family was sitting happily towards the front in much better seats.
The plane ride was the worst thing Harry had been a part of and he thought he loved flying. It turns out did not, at least not when he wasn't in control or feeling the air on him instead of this metal tube prison in the sky. Harry had fallen in love with flying but that was strictly on a broom. Flying on a plane with other people mixed with turbulence was a bloody nightmare. It was pure torture, making him more confident that he could do a better job if he was allowed to make the whole trip on his broom. He would have to have better odds at having an easier ride than riding this nonsensical muggle invention.
After the wheels safely hit the ground in America, Harry was relieved he wasn't dead. The whole thing was over; all that was left was collecting luggage before leaving the hotel. Having no bag to collect, Harry had to hail a cab for the first time while his family picked up their bags. Harry was "lucky" enough to be able to carry his only bag on the plane. He wasn't allowed to check a bag because Vernon was too cheap and didn't want to pay an extra tenner for it.
Harry had hailed a yellow American van-sized cab that took the Dursleys and an unhappy Harry to the hotel. It was there when Harry saw there were going to be more problems than he anticipated. First off, there were only two beds. One for his aunt and uncle, and the other for Dudley. Harry would choose anything over sharing a bed with Dudley. If he did, he would probably be abused in his sleep by Dudley, who might push him off the bed for the laughs. It couldn't be any clearer that he was going to be forced to sleep on the floor. The worst part was that in a cramped room, he was probably going to be stepped on when someone needed the attached bathroom.
Harry was already not having it, and despite not having muggle money, he felt like he was above this. Though all he had on him was his vault, trust goblin gold. It was enough to give Harry the idea that maybe he was willing to take his chances on the streets. There was a better chance he could find a magic-friendly area with a room to rent for the rest of the two-week trip than be comfortable sharing this room.
While Harry wanted his own form of independence, he wasn't given the chance before his relatives told him to leave anyway. They told him they didn't want to see him until it was dark. The number one rule was that he had to stay out of their way. That meant being out of the room in the morning after fetching them breakfast. He could only come back when it was dark to have a place to sleep, but they didn't want to hear a word from him. It was kindness in their eyes, but to Harry, he was still being treated like a slave, or more accurately, a house elf.
When they arrived in New York City, it was in the afternoon, and the sun was still shining. The Dursely's wanted to go out and see the sights, meaning they wanted to get something to eat, meaning they didn't want Harry around. Vernon complained about American prices seconds before he told Harry to leave. Vernon wasn't going to allow Harry to slack off in the room alone.
Fed up with this treatment, Harry felt his anger rise. As if this year hadn't been bad enough, with each passing minute, it was seemingly getting worse. Still holding his bag, Harry accepted their malicious rules. Though Harry got the last words with a spiteful "enjoy yourselves," The seemingly kind words, in truth, were meant as a subtle 'fuck you' to these "family" members who didn't have a compassionate or kind bone in their bodies.
They barely acknowledged his response and almost said the quiet part out loud, having to catch themselves from saying, "Good riddance." They were not brave enough to say what they meant; instead, they heavily implied it. The cruel muggle family were hoping the tough New York City streets would swallow their freakish nephew up. Vernon was praying the little bastard would get stabbed by one of the mental homeless people the cab driver warned them about on the way to the hotel. It was possible this city could be the solution to finish off their freakish blood-related leech once and for all.
The Durselys were still painfully ignorant and completely oblivious to the mystery of the real Harry. They didn't understand and weren't curious to know a thing about the magical world. Their ignorance made them unaware of what a force of nature Harry was. They had no clue about the previous year or about how he won the deadly Triwizard tournament. They didn't know that Harry's victorious win was immediately followed by watching a friend be killed in front of him. Right when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the resurrection of Voldemort happened. Someone who had supposedly died was breathing again. Followed by a one-sided duel with the most powerful dark wizard since Grindelwald.
It was no wonder Harry fled his relatives' hotel room, almost with a scoff. It was still maddening to Harry that his relatives never warmed up to him. After all these years, he has always tried to be on his best behavior. In comparison, he was better than Dudley, who bullied neighborhood kids for fun. Growing up, he would have killed for acceptance from these monsters. He tried and tried, but he had to realize at a young age it was never going to happen, so he had to find his own way.
Harry's mind was currently only focused on finding clues or a literal sign pointing him to the American magical community. There he could buy a hot meal and a place to sleep because all he had was magical goblin gold currency.
As he made his way through the city, cutting through blocks and blocks of tall buildings, Harry looked at everything, hoping for a sign. With every step, he was depleting his energy and, in the process, making himself hungrier. Worsened by the fact he was running off a single bag of complimentary nuts he had on the plane.
Harry's stomach was growling, and the smell of restaurants and street food was driving him Azkaban levels insane. He wanted to buy some food but couldn't with magical money. Muggles would lose their minds over a solid gold coin being used to pay for a cheap meal. During his first year at Hogwarts, it was stressed that the statute of secrecy had to be maintained at all costs.
Walking another mile or so, Harry finally caught a break when he saw a woman fiddling with a stack of gold coins in her hand. He followed her with his eyes as she walked into this unassuming corner building. The elegant woman had a rolling travel bag with her; using his skills of deduction, this had to be some sort of hotel or residence.
Being so desperate, Harry would have taken anything at this point. He didn't care if the place had roaches because it was probably better than interacting with his relatives at this point. In a haste, Harry almost ran up to look at the name on the front of the building. "The Continental. It looks posh, not like it matters; everything is looking good right about now." Harry said this himself, reading the plaque on the building. To Harry, the name meant nothing, but he would soon find out how important this building was.
Walking inside, Harry was relieved to see it was some sort of hotel with a standard desk clerk working the lobby. There also conveniently happened to be a sit-down restaurant and bar attached. Harry could have dropped to his knees in a fit of happiness, finally finding a place where he could eat and lay his head down. The exhausted teenager didn't care about doing anything else, only eating and resting his drained body.
Harry's slow wander around the city was enough for him to get a good grasp of the city and find it droll. It so happened to only be a big city with big shiny things to distract you from enjoying this miserable experience. The people, the cleanliness, and the general attitude of everyone here were a turn off compared to London.
It didn't help that everyone in this city was seemingly an outright prick, at least that was Harry's experience walking through this cesspit of a city. Then a ray of light appeared, and he was happy to be back with his own magical kind. A place where his gold was accepted and he was welcome. Unlike his relatives, who still called him his childhood nickname "freak," to his face. It was dehumanizing in the worst way, which only solidified his reason for staying away from his "family.".
The woman with short dark hair in front of Harry in line paid for her room with a single gold coin noisily scraping across the front desk, which the clerk accepted.
The woman turned to leave and saw Harry behind her. The look of confusion was probably because this place was a high price area and it didn't look like Harry could afford it. He still happened to be wearing his oversized hand-me-down clothes after all. If anything looked like he was going to ask to use the bathroom, unaware of what he had walked into.
Harry wasn't quite homeless looking enough, but he could admit he wasn't wearing much better clothes than the typical homeless person wandering around the city. Minus the many layers of dirt and grime on the street dwellers compared to a clean, if somewhat sweaty, Harry Potter. At worst, Harry looked like he could use a shower.
The concierge looked down at the youngest person he had ever seen walk into the hotel in his thirty years at the desk. The hotel was an institution that everyone not affiliated knew to stay away from. Even the local gangsters and troublemakers knew this hotel was off limits. "Can I help you…sir?" The concierge was kind and professional, no matter the situation, unless otherwise pushed into a confrontation.
Harry didn't know how to ask for what he wanted because he was caught off guard by the professional way he was spoken to. It was the highest respect he had ever been shown by a stranger who didn't know about his fame. If this man knew who he was, he would have called him by his name.
It was refreshing for Harry to not be noticed as he put a gold coin on the counter. "One room, please."
The concierge didn't expect the boy to pull out a gold coin, but as it was pushed over to him, he noticed there was something odd about the coin. It wasn't an official assassin minted coin. This one had a dragon on it and said to be called a galleon. From the weight, he could tell it was gold and not an arcade token like he first thought. "I need to speak to my manager."
Picking up the phone Charon called Winston to the front to help him identify the truth in this odd situation. If anyone knew what this coin was, it would be Winston, who had worldly knowledge second to none. "There is a…payment situation at the front desk. Yes, sir, it could be considered odd…no, so far, no trouble."
Harry expected his payment to be accepted without question and to be given a key by now. When the clerk called for the manager, Harry was panicking that he was going to be tossed out if they wouldn't accept his money. Maybe British galleons were different from American ones. He didn't have a place or time to exchange them before this surprise trip. In his head, Harry was going over a million different pessimistic scenarios, with none of them playing out in his favor.
Harry didn't know how to respond, and before he could try and talk his way out of it a new set of footsteps rang out over the marble floors. Keeping his mouth shut, he saw an older man looking like a high end hotel manager. The man was wearing an expensive suit and had a posh accent that sounded a little English.
Winston didn't know what to expect when he was called away from his office, but it wasn't a teenage kid. The boy didn't look like he belonged anywhere, and while it could be considered an assassin trait, this kid was no hardened assassin. He looked too soft, so unsure of himself. It was as if the boy came in here by accident, stumbling upon a world he was unprepared for. "What is the problem, old friend?"
Cheron handed Winston the coin. The coin didn't match any gold coin he had ever seen before. Of all of his knowledge of currencies around the world, he had never run into anything like this particular shimmering gold coin. "This, this is the problem."
Winston was expecting something different, more urgent than him staring at a gold coin. At first glance, it was just a coin, but when you looked closer, this one had a deep history. With plenty of secrets included in that history and ones more private than that of their own. "My god."
Cheron didn't expect a reaction such as this from Winston. It was almost childish amazement. "What is it, sir? Do you recognize this? Because I don't, and I thought I had seen it all." Cheron knew it wasn't an adjudicator coin or something else from the high table. The high table would also never send a child to talk in their place.
Winston took the coin in and marveled at the piece of wizarding currency. Being an avid collector of all that is interesting, he had only come across a few of these coins by lucky happenstance. "This, my friend, is the story I told you a long time ago. The one you thought was just the alcohol talking. You see, magic does exist, and we have one of their biggest celebrities in our very hotel."
Harry was now on edge because, from the sounds of this exchange, these were muggles, and he had made a very big mistake. "I am sorry. I think I need to be going. All due respect, please consider me a crazy kid with stupid fake gold coins I found on the street."
Winston could see the young wizard was panicking. "That isn't the truth, is it? Though I admire the lie,while trying to keep the statute of secrecy in place. It is wholly unnecessary, you see this hotel, and what happens inside is a secret as well. Your magical government in the UK either doesn't care or doesn't know we exist. Though we are naturally a more well known secret as opposed to your world. We might be regular humans, but this special place is for assassins. A place called The Continental, it is for networking but can also be used as a safe haven from people who would do us harm."
Caught off guard again, Harry didn't understand what was happening. He didn't understand anything anymore, similar to when he was made aware of magic the first time. "What do you mean? I'm not trying to keep anything a secret, and why are you saying you are killers? That is illegal. Murder is still illegal in America, right?"
Winston stepped closer to the boy with his glasses on. With his eyes not being what they once were, it took an extra minute to figure out who this young man was. This boy was the stuff of legends, only dwarfed by the Baba Yaga himself. "I know who you are…Harry Potter. The boy who killed a man before he was a year old. A feat that is hard to believe. Count yourself blessed because even in this hotel, your record of the earliest kill would be hard to beat."
Cheron could have been tipped over with a feather as this story kept slowly unfolding. He wasn't expecting anywhere near this level of intrigue and complexity from a simple teenager with an unidentifiable gold coin. "Sir, that isn't possible. How can one purposely kill a man as a baby?" Cheron couldn't believe a baby killed a man on purpose before he was able to crawl or walk.
Winston nodded, "Oh, it is very much possible, and it wasn't an accident like a gun going off. This was something magical that defies all explanation. This is Harry Potter, and his story is one that everyone that knows of magical descent knows like the back of their hand. The only person in the history of magic to ever survive a killing curse. It is like surviving being shot in the head. This is the story I was told during a trip across the pond by a drunk wizard in a poker match over ten years ago."
Harry did not know how to respond, as once again, people were fascinated by the worst day of his life. The day he lost both of his parents. "Yes, I am Harry Potter, and I just want a room. It doesn't even have to be nice, just a room with a bed and bathroom. I am on a trip with my blasted relatives, and I would take my chances anywhere else. Please, I urgently need a room until their bloody business trip is over."
Winston could see Harry had a short fuse and was clearly undisciplined. He obviously didn't use his strengths or the English man's natural charm to his advantage. Let it be said that respect, honor, legends, and stories could make or break you in this business. "Forgive me, but my no-mag friend here doesn't know what we both know, so let me tell your story anyway. A story grand enough for anyone to understand what a unique marvel you are."
Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but he just made a hand motion to finish the explanation. Winston could see that this boy had many rough edges. It was painfully clear that Mr. Potter lacked any sort of parental figure to help mold him into a passable adult. If he did have a strong parental figure, then they did a piss poor job helping this boy grow past childish behavior patterns. If the story he heard was true, then this boy should have been more mature at this stage.
Mr. Potter wasn't weak physically, but weak mentally. Mr. Potter's mind was poisoned by a jaded outlook with no clear view of his possible goals. "Where was I? Oh yes, many years ago, there was a dark wizard…whose name escapes me." Winston says this while launching into a brief magical history.
Harry chimed in with almost a resigned tone for the repeating of his life story for the millionth time. "Voldemort. His name is Lord Voldemort."
Winston snapped his fingers as if it was on the tip of his tongue. "That's the one. Yes, this Lord Voldemort character was going to try to kill all of the non magical people and the wizards with unclean blood. I have a vague understanding of what that means, but it was a serious threat to the peace of everyone on Earth. The man who told me the story skipped around, but the gist was that your parents fought against him. Then one Halloween night, Voldemort went to your house. You were not even a year old when he killed your parents before trying to kill you. It was by luck or fated magical power that, when he tried to kill you, the spell deflected back to kill him. Did I cover everything?"
Harry wasn't pleased that his story was being recounted to him. "More or less. Please, sir, I am begging you, can I please get a room and something to eat." Harry was letting all of his pent up frustration out when he just needed rest. He barely slept on the flight, and he was running on fumes. Not to mention his stomach was empty as well.
Winston narrowed his eyes, sensing something else was wrong. The boy was tense, and it wasn't just an annoyance of a story. Mr. Potter was running from something more serious. "Before I give you a room, I need to know if you are bringing magical trouble with you. No worries; I won't kick you out on the streets. I need to know if my hotel and guests are in danger. Precautions as a manager I have to take, I am sure you understand."
Harry sighed, "That is a complicated question. What you missed from your story is that Voldemort returned from the dead at the end of my last year at school. I know that doesn't sound real, but it's the truth. He is back and back with vengeance, but I don't expect him to come here. He would not expect me in America. I am only worried about what will happen when I get back. I am worrying myself to death, imagining what he is plotting now."
Cheron was kept on his toes by the facts that were uncovered, each one of which could have sent him falling back in shock. To hear magic is real, but to also learn that someone came back to life was scarier than anything he had ever heard before. "Did you say come back to life?" Cheron had to be sure he heard that correctly because, in all of his years, he never heard of anything like that.
Harry nodded, "Yes, and no one believes me. I can't blame them either, I was there to see it with my own eyes, and I still don't believe it. He took my blood to come back. That aside, it has always been left to me to kill him because no one else wants or can do it. My whole life has been stuck in this vicious cycle. Us trying to kill one another, with me waiting for it to catch up to me. I don't think I can keep doing this for much longer."
Winston could see some tension relief as the savior of the world vented his frustrations. "Well, I think this calls for a drink, but before we do that, why don't I give you some of our 'magical' currency. Tradition is you would have to earn it as a sign of respect from others in our world. As for someone as famous and someone who has a killing worthy of respect, I think I can afford to front you a few coins. As my own sign of my respect."
Reaching across the desk, Winston took the magic gold coin and made a swap. Winston then handed Harry back twenty coins. "This should get you started. It might seem like a lot, but I have a feeling it will go quickly."
Harry thanked the generous man for this unfair exchange; it was far more than anything he had been given in the past. Looking at the coins, he sees the words "Ens Causa Sui" on one side and "Ex Unitae Vires'' on the other. Not knowing what those words meant, Harry was at a loss for their importance.
Winston saw the boy struggle to understand the words on the coin. "Out of unity comes strength. That is what the coin reads, and I can tell you don't have much unity in your life. I can identify a lone wolf when I see one, and the toughest thing for them is learning to be a part of the pack. You see, here in our world, you can work alone, but you also need to have people to take jobs from. You need people to rely on and a safe place to go where certain rules are followed. The friends you can make here are the kind that would be there for you when the going gets tough."
Harry scowled at this man for thinking he didn't have friends. "Hey, don't paint me as a friendless loser who is all alone. I might be an orphan, but I have friends." Harry didn't want anyone to think he was a complete social pariah loser worthy of pity.
Winston scoffed, "Schoolyard friends and business friends are not the same thing. You see business friends do what is in the best interest of themselves and the greater good. They also have the power to affect real change. You have a few schoolyard friends who might believe this fellow Voldemort is back, but you can't do anything about it. I think there is a clear winner in who you want on your side."
A moment of pause later, Winston continued, "True, we can't do much to help you in the actual fighting of the war, but I think we have more to offer you in the form of unique teachings you would never be aware of otherwise. The kind of things none of your schoolyard friends could ever teach you. The same lessons your teachers would push against because they could never justify letting you learn to fight the way an assassin fights. So let me start by introducing myself properly. My name is Winston, and I'm the manager here at the Continental. This is my kingdom, and I know all that happens within these walls."
Winston extended his hand, which Harry shook. "Like you guessed, I'm Harry Potter. I am pleased to meet you."
Winston was happy to see the boy was capable of a few manners. "Let's get you a drink. I believe you, of all people, could use one." Winston looked to Cheron and said, "Take Mr. Potter's bag to his room while I take him for a much needed drink. Have a generous meal waiting for him as well."
Cheron gave a courteous nod, like the consummate professional he was. There was no question that he would do his job to the best of his ability.
Harry set his bag on the ground while also touching his main trouser pocket to double check he had his wand at the ready just in case. The weapon check was a move that didn't escape either Winston or Cheron's notice. Having seen the physical check of one's weapons many times over their many decades of experience. They also noticed the outline of his trousers wasn't in the shape of a gun. Winston knew it was a wand, while Cheron guessed it to be a slim profile knife.
Walking to the bar, Winston informed Harry of a few basics when ordering in the hotel that didn't come off as uncultured or disrespectful. Arriving at the bar, Harry remembered what he was told and slid a new gold coin across the bar. "Firewhiskey please." Harry tried to order without staring at the attractive bartender's cleavage like a creepy, horny teenager.
That confused the cute female bartender, who had clearly never been asked that before. "You want me to light a whiskey on fire?"
Winston could surmise this was a magical drink, which might be the only thing they didn't have at their fully stocked bar. "Let's start him off soft, Addy. Little edge with something to soften the bite while letting him keep his wits."
Addy, the bartender, nodded and mixed a whiskey with sparkling water. "This should be more than enough." This was a teenager after all so she kept it light so the small boy did not get hammered in a room full of killers. Possibly something worse for your health than the alcohol alone.
Winston thanked the bartender before sliding the drink closer to Harry, giving him his first drink. He was normally against letting children drink, but the rule goes out the window once they have taken their first life. Harry had done that and more to earn this drink. "Sip it and take the edge off. You are far too tense. You might have some enemies, but no one is going to get you here. Everyone here is smart enough to know the consequences of committing an act of violence in my hotel. In my hotel, you are protected, set by a long standing tradition. To put it in other words, this Voldemort character would have trouble raiding this hotel. To him it would be like storming the gates of hell itself."
Harry wanted to doubt that bold statement because Voldemort had numbers and magic. "I hope that is true because, as it stands, there isn't much I can do to help you should he raid this hotel. Last time I fought him, I got my arse handed to me."
Winston has met a few magic users before, but by nature, they were usually a touch more cocky. They thought they were untouchable by muggles, but Harry Potter seemed beaten down by his inadequacy. "I have a question." Pausing for a second, he angled his body towards Harry to show that he had his complete attention. "How screwed are we really? Does your side have this under control? Should the collective 'we' be worried?"
Harry sarcastically laughed seconds before he took another sip of his drink. "They are denying that Voldemort is back, which is letting him rebuild power all over again. What I do know is that attacks have gone up, and the Ministry hasn't done a thing about it. We are all screwed, to be frankly honest."
Winston reflected on that answer, and if he let this situation play out with no intervention, it looked very grim. Any way he sliced it, the fact was that this villainous terrorist was a threat to not just the UK but the whole world. The facts were that this kid was in the middle, and it seemed to be out of his hands. Harry was too weak or not skilled enough to take destiny into his own hands. This situation was almost as if the invisible hand of fate wanted him in the middle. "That doesn't fill me with hope."
Harry took another sip and said, "Now you know how I feel. To be completely honest with you, my government is a bad joke. It only took ten minutes in this hotel, and I want nothing more than to move here permanently. To leave it all behind and let them sort it out, seeing as they know so bloody much. To them, I'm only a snot-nosed kid who is out of his mind, making up stories as I go."
Winston sensed this kid wasn't a coward, but his short time had apparently not been kind to him. It beat the kid down as if he had no limit to the punishment he could take. A trait you usually only saw in assassins who managed to live long enough. This was the reason Harry reminded Winston of a particular someone. "I am not a proponent of running away unless it is to regroup before launching a more superior counterattack. You can't give in to the weakness of cowardice. Someone as important as you must understand this. When more falls on your shoulders, you have to get stronger to carry the weight."
Harry wanted to scoff because it felt like this was a personal attack. He felt a little disrespected, but this had the feeling of a lesson, not a chewing out. This manager was not Dumbledore, who had a habit of talking down to him or diminishing his feelings. "Well, I can't get stronger when I can't practice magic outside of school because it's a bloody crime. I have been made worse by my school because my professors don't teach me anything bloody useful. If I am honest, I don't think there is any hope for me to beat Voldemort with what I know now." Losing his composure Harry was letting his true frustrated emotion shine through.
Winston scratched his chin, letting the gears in his mind work. This was a new piece on the board of a much bigger game. Winston had the power to make a difference here and possibly save the world. It was a grand claim, but Winston was reminded of a quote about letting evil flourish when good men do nothing. "If you think you can't beat him with magic, why don't you try our way?"
Harry didn't know what that was, but he had an ever present sense of doom following him. At this point, he would be willing to learn or do anything to survive the future battles he was bound to face. As it stood now, he was only destined to lose. Harry's only thought was how much better prepared he would have been if Remus was allowed to stay on as the Defense professor permanently. It was almost exclusively thanks to Remus as to why he was still alive. If he hadn't learned the patronus charm when he did, his soul would have been sucked out for sure.
Slowly draining more of his drink until it was almost gone Harry felt a touch floaty. He wasn't drunk but Winston's proposal made a little more sense when Winston himself had no magic. Harry was under the assumption only magic could kill Voldemort. "What is your way? What would that look like exactly?" How could this hotel manager help him beat Voldemort? A task that felt impossible, or else someone else would have done it by now.
Winston had spotted the man he wanted from the corner of his eye, drinking at a booth in the corner. "Well, let's say I know a man. A man who has the habit of making the impossible happen. The kind of impossible where your enemies have no idea what you are about to hit them with. A ghost if you will, maybe with his help, he can help you…even the odds."
Harry was curious as to how this manager planned to help him. The sales pitch was strong and sounded great, but Harry wasn't convinced anyone besides Dumbledore could help him in this lifelong war against Voldemort. "Do you know a great and powerful wizard who can teach me?"
Winston shook his head, "Not a wizard, or a squib, just an ordinary man but a deadly one at that. Don't let that discourage you, trust me, he is a fierce one. A man who inspires fear in all of the criminal underworld. Someone who could send Voldemort running home with his tail between his legs if he knew my man's exploits." Winston was almost downplaying how scary and deadly his friend was. His friend had killed thousands with ease, and if he had to, Winston was sure John could come out on top against a few wizards. Magic or not, John was just too good to fail.
Harry cocked an eyebrow, almost in disbelief. "You have been really kind to me, and I don't want to seem rude. I will gladly take all the help you can give me." Harry wanted to be skeptical but wasn't in the position to turn down help. He was stuck in New York City, and it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. Lessons from anyone were better than lazing around in a hotel room doing nothing while waiting for this trip to end.
Winston extended an arm, trying to usher Harry over to where he knew his friend was sitting. "This way."
Not wanting to carry his drink, Harry downed the rest of it. He found that the alcohol made this whole conversation flow easier. Harry didn't feel half as uptight or nervous as he did before he walked in here. It was very addicting to feel a small relief from his nonstop anxieties. 'I think I can understand why people get addicted to this.'
Harry didn't stumble but walked with Winston until he was standing next to a table with a sharply dressed, scruffy looking man sitting alone. Harry didn't say anything, he was waiting to be introduced. The man didn't seem outwardly friendly or someone who wanted company. It almost looked like the man had never smiled in his life.
Winston watched John look up from his drink. It was a long, thoughtful look because the man was in the process of getting out of his assassin life. His whole life, he was trained to be an assassin, but meeting one woman shifted the meaning of life for him. "John."
The now identified John took a look at his friend as well as the very young guest he had trailing him. "Winston. Family?" Even to John he didn't understand what a kid was doing in a place such as this. This place was a den of killers, the last place for a kid but John was a man of very few words, if there ever was one.
Winston put his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "This isn't my family. I think we are close enough that I would have told you if I had any family left. No, this is Harry Potter." John had no reaction to the name, but Winston paused for effect anyway. "He has a problem. This is the type of problem that can grow into a problem for everyone on Earth. It might be difficult for you to believe, but there is a society more secret than ours."
John breathed a loud sigh, feeling like he was about to be dragged into another job. "No, Winston, I am getting out."
Winston put his hands up and said, "We all know about you getting out, Johnathan. I am merely asking for maybe a guiding hand to help this young man complete his own impossible task. I promise there is no added danger to you. Consider it a favor for yourself because if this problem spills from his world to ours, it will threaten the one person you care about most."
John looked from his friend to this kid, and he wasn't impressed with what he saw. The kid looked scrawny, a true child in every sense of the word. Someone who looked as if he wasn't capable of stopping any problems. John's silence and critical eye made the meek looking boy almost flinch.
John made his first assessment, and the only thing that gave him pause was this boy's eyes, which told the true story. This boy has taken a life and seen things that haunt him in ways only someone like John could understand. John knew those eyes well because he saw them every time he looked in the mirror.
Winston could see his friend's mind working, so he finished the introductions. "Harry, this is John Wick. A name that you wouldn't know, but it is well respected in our world. Similar to how I imagine Merlin is in yours, Johnathan is almost mythical at this point."
Harry did feel like he was meeting someone important. The aura of the man was one that was off putting. It had a calming aura, however, it felt like the tides could dangerously shift at any moment. They were in a bar of killers, but this one felt different. If Winston was recommending him above some of the scarier looking men in the bar, it was a sign that this John Wick should terrify him. "Hello…John, I am Harry."
John kept eyeing the boy up, taking in every detail, down to the way he stood. It was an open stance with no hidden motives. This kid was an easy read, made easier by the fact this kid didn't have any weapons on him. No gun, no knife, and clearly no hand to hand combat skills. "Winston, I don't like this. Are you sure this is necessary? You know what you are asking. You know the methods I was forced to learn under and how there is no other way around the pain. Do you think he has what it takes?"
The training for John had been very hard and started when he was much younger than the teenager standing before him. John couldn't see how this kid was supposed to learn what took him years.
Winston had thought ahead, and this question was an easy one. "He doesn't need all of your skills. What is important is weapons training and you imparting your killer mentality. The biggest difficulty is we only have the summer, which eliminates the complexity of passing on your famous hand to hand combat skills. What makes your job easier is that in his world, no one ever gets that close. They duel with spells at a distance, which is your specialty."
John had his eyes locked on Harry, trying to picture what he could work with. "Is he committed because this won't be easy? It will hurt because I won't baby him. If this is that serious, he needs to learn that to be the best and survive, you have to suffer."
Harry was offended that he needed someone to speak for him when he was right here. "Hey, of course I am committed. I have suffered more than you know. You have no idea the monster I am up against, if you did, you would be the one who is afraid."
The verbal strike made John's eyes narrow, which in turn made Harry flinch because he felt the switch. The mood turned, and Harry could swear he felt his soul threaten to leave his body. "I am sorry…I have been through a lot, is all I am saying."
Winston cut through the awkward moment by pulling a stack of gold coins from his jacket pocket. "I know you have more than enough of these, but Johnathan, I am asking as a friend and someone who cares about you. Please take Harry under your wing for the summer. Craft him into the best killer you can, because if you don't, he will die. I am not blowing it out of proportion when I say the fate of the world might be on the line."
John didn't want to believe that the fate of the world was relying on this kid. The biggest draw in this narrative was that John had never seen Winston this worried. This kid must have had proof or spun a great story. "Uh huh." He wasn't impressed because if it was a threat, he could eliminate it. Nothing ever stood in his way, which was now something he had to teach this kid. John had another impossible task, though this would hopefully be easier with him having to permanently change this kid's nature.
Harry could sense that John didn't believe him. "I know it sounds far-fetched so let me tell you the whole story. Maybe then you can see how helping me helps you." Harry sat down at the table and launched into his life story all over again.
Winston stood there and let Harry speak. Harry reminded him a little of John, he hoped his old friend would see the same thing, in hopes of securing the Boogeyman's help. There was security with John's help because John did the impossible more often than anyone else he had ever seen. If anyone needed that kind of magic, it was Harry Potter.
There wasn't a doubt in Winston's mind that Harry could rise to the occasion and come out on top if he had someone like John in his head. Learning from someone like John could yield the result of changing the world for the better. This boy needed to grow up faster than anyone else before him. All in the hopes of changing his childish thinking to something more logical. Harry had too much emotion and not enough rational thinking or life experience. Though some of that could be attributed to the hormones thrashing through his system. The rest could be a result of his lack of emotional maturity due to his unfortunate childhood.
When Harry was done with his story, it had done the impossible and actually flustered the Baba Yaga. Poor John didn't know how to react to being told magic was real or how some evil prick rose from the dead. "So I am asking for your help, and I will do whatever it takes if it can help me win."
John had more respect for this kid, who was tougher than his first impressions. This kid's biggest negative was that he had a terrible base of knowledge. The biggest hurdle John had to fix in under three months. Mentally going through a checklist, John realized if he helped Harry, then it would be mostly gun work with a few other basics sprinkled in. Those tricks were the "in case of emergency break glass" cases where you would have no other option in order to survive.
All of those important skills while trying to hone the boy's mind to be as sharp as a master blacksmith forged Japanese katana. Harry already had a lump of steel harder than most his age, but now it was refining that into an edge. "We don't have time to waste. I want you up and down here by four in the morning. Kill any ideas about quitting this once you begin, because if you can't commit to this, you might as well just end it yourself before your enemy gets the chance to."
Harry was happy to be getting help, and the wake up time didn't bother him at all. "Of course. I promise I won't quit, no matter what." Harry excitedly said. To Harry, this was the same feeling as if this training was going to be like quidditch. He had no idea what he had truly signed up for.
Winston was beyond excited to see these two get on the same page, although it was too early to tell how it would work out. Winston was sure Harry was going to have to work for it because John Wick didn't make anything easy. For someone like John, killing was as easy as breathing. The bad part was that it was only after putting in thousands of hours of painful training and preparation. "I think that calls for a drink."
John pushed his empty Bourbon glass towards the center of the table. "I am going to visit Helen. Don't let him drink anymore, I don't want him hungover. I need him sharp with all of his wits and reflexes ready to go."
Harry felt tired and agreed, "I think I will use that as my excuse to head off to bed then. I could use a good night's sleep for once."
Winston nodded, seeing the similarities already. "I wish you both farewell. I look forward to seeing the progress you two make. I will have Cheron send an early wakeup call to guarantee you are not late."
Harry watched John get up and leave a gold coin as a tip for the staff. Seeing John move and the way he carried himself was eye opening. It was so smooth, quiet, like a ghost. It was almost like his feet didn't even touch the ground. By contrast, Harry felt awkward or clumsy with his movements. Harry was already starting to see the stark differences, the chasm between them. The clear gap in their abilities and the treasure trove of what he could learn lit a fire in him.
The reveal of Professor Moody turning out to be a Death Eater was devastating because Harry had wanted to be just like him. A deadly, cold blooded Auror who hunted down dark wizards. That all changed for the better, or maybe worse, when he met John. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but in that time, Harry could see that John was more worthy of emulation. This was the kind of man Harry had to be if he wanted to survive, because by Winston's account, John himself was a survivor.
Winston took Harry's silence and deep thought as a chance to impart some more wisdom. "Cheron will take you to your room, where I recommend you lay your old self to rest forever. Kill the child inside you and become the killer the world needs you to be. Tomorrow, you will be reborn to become a new and more capable Harry Potter. Soak it all in and be ready to apply it when you have to. Never hesitate to do what you know in your heart you have to do. Cut out the part of you that cares what others think, because to make hard choices, you will most definitely anger somebody. Always keep pushing forward with your mission above all else. If you take all of these steps, I like your chances against anything standing in your way."
Taking in those words, Harry could sense that this man had hope for him. It was a lot because everyone else who put their hope in him felt obligatory or empty. It felt like these new friends could see deeper inside of him. They felt more genuine than the two faced and fake magical world. In the magical world, everyone knew his name and expected him to be a hero and a kid at the same time. The cruel reality was that he didn't have a childhood.
Harry cobbled together some happy moments with his friends but it wasn't a real childhood. Harry was vastly under prepared to handle the kind of threat he was facing now with a reborn and full strength Voldemort. Harry was stuck in the middle but now he had to try and put the past to bed in order to be reborn into a totally new version of himself. It was a revelation because if he wanted to be a real hero and defeat Voldemort, he needed all the help he could get.
"Good night, Winston." Harry said he was thankful for finding this hotel when he did.
"Good night, Mr. Potter, and good luck out there." Winston hoped the boy would still be thanking him tomorrow after his first lesson. 'Time will tell, unfortunately, we are on a clock to make every second count. The fate of the world is on this young man's shoulders. If it comes crashing down, we all might be doomed.'
End
This is the end of chapter one, and I have most of the rest written. It was a fun story idea I had when John Wick 4 came out. In the last few months I have been taking a break from smut to tinker around with this to cleanse my palette. I kept adding and editing until I felt like it could be a story that wasn't reliant on smut. John Wick doesn't have any sex scenes so I am not going to add any in this story.
This is also my first attempt to use Quillbot to edit my story. Grammerly has gotten desperate, trying to push you to pay for their service. Someone recommended this and I think it does an okay job for my bad grammar and spelling. Please let me know if you like it and if it made it easier to read. I took almost all of the suggestions it made.
Let me know what you think of everything as a whole. Let me know if this interests you, and what you think will happen. Most of it is already set in stone. I hope people will trust the direction I want to go with it. I do take reviews into account to learn all I can from people with different perspectives.
This is also the first thing I have posted to fanfiction . net since most of my stories containing smut were taken off this site. I have still been publishing stuff on A O 3. If you are on FF and miss my work please check my work out on th site. Especially if you want to read the stories that were deleted or censored. I censored a few things from Lust Genie on FF trying to avoid a takedown, but it didn't work in the end.
I know people are reposting my work on this site again, and it doesn't bother me. This site has tts audio, and if you only consume the stories that way, I get wanting it on here. So if you want to risk your account being reposted, feel free. I don't have the time or the energy to do it myself. My only request is to give me credit and direct people to my other account on A O 3. In other words, please don't harass those re-posters for "stealing" my work. I give permission for FF or other sites like Wattpad that I never plan to use.
Thank you for reading, and please comment because I do try to engage with comments as much as I can.