HP: A Magical Journey

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“I will be going to America for a few days,” said Quinn as he sat opposite George in the latter’s study.

“Why?” asked George, not looking up a letter he was reading.

“I need to meet the Broker regarding my investment. He has been sending me regular reports, and I think it is time that I have a sit down with him to figure out my next moves.”

“Why America? Call him to Basel. It would be much easier for you for everyone to keep Helena Berenberg a part of the meeting.”

“I will be meeting Broker’s team this time. He’s in charge of a lot of my money, so it is only natural that I get to know the people who’re handling it. And taking his entire team from America to Switzerland is going to cost a lot of money in Portkey that neither he nor I are willing to pay. It is better that I go to their offices.”

George hummed. “When are you going?” he asked.

“As soon as my travel arrangements are made.”

“Have you talked to Elliot?”

“I’m going to today.”

“How long are you going to stay?”

“Three days.”

George nodded and opened another letter. Quinn took the lack of opposition as a sign of affirmation. So he got up and walked outside, leaving George to his work.

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– (Scene Break) –

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Quinn exited the fabric of space and left behind the strobing rainbow lights to land on his feet, feeling a tad bit dizzy that cleared up almost instantly. He looked around and found himself in a posh, well-decorated room with high-class interiors.

“Welcome, Mr. West,” he heard a melodious voice. Quinn turned to face a gorgeous blonde standing by the room’s door. “Welcome to the United States of America,” she said.

. . .

On the first day of his stay in America, Quinn immediately went to Abraham’s restaurant and had lunch with Lia, who was in the country.

“Why are you here?” asked Lia.

“For work,” said Quinn, eating a strange seafood dish. “I have to take care of my non-magical investments. Meet the Broker and his team.” He pointed at the roof, “I also need to catch up with the building manager about the state of the building, the tenants, and their leases. Then there’s the warehouse that I bought last time I was here— I need to visit there to take measurements so that I can start planning the development I had in mind.”

“Oh my, you’re busy,” said Lia, enjoying her meal. “Let’s go out somewhere today before you get all busy with your work.”

“No, you’re here to spend time with Abraham. I’m sure you have your own plans; I don’t want to ruin them. Moreover, the meeting with the building manager is today, so I have to attend that. I don’t know how long I will spend with Broker and his team tomorrow, so I’m going to go visit the warehouse today itself.”

“But you’re here for three days, correct? What are you going to do on the last day?”

“Enjoy myself in the country of dreams, of course.”

. . .

On the second day of his stay in America, Quinn woke up early and got ready to visit the Broker in his office.

“Quinn!”

He turned to see the loud man. Hair set with wax, a finely groomed beard, a natural tan skin tone, a tailored blue suit on his body, and an expensive watch on his wrist. The man strolled inside the meeting/conference room and gave Quinn a hearty hug.

“Welcome to my office,” smiled the Broker, Jerome Walker. “My team and I have been eagerly waiting for you to arrive.”

“I’m looking forward to this meeting as well,” Quinn smiled similarly.

The Broker led Quinn through his office, which seemed like an office of a startup. The place didn’t give a formal vibe with how it was designed. There was a turf area in the middle of the office with real grass, and Quinn noticed the picnic blankets on the green grass. There was even a set of wide swings with manilla work folders sitting on them.

“We are a small team, but I handpicked every one of them carefully. Every single one of them is skilled and competent in what they do and are half the reason behind my success,” said the Broker. “You’ll like them.”

“I hope so,” Quinn chuckled. “Who knows, maybe I will poach a couple of them from you.”

The Broker laughed, “You can surely try. But I pay them very handsomely for they make me money. The more they make me, the more they get paid. It’s a continuous cycle. They were delighted when I got you as our client.”

“If they learned from you, I’m sure they’ll understand what I can bring them.”

The Broker laughed again, seemingly not worried. “We will see about that,” he said as they arrived at the meeting room.

He took the handle in his hand and smiled at Quinn, “For now, let’s make everyone some money.”

. . .

On the night of the second day of his stay, Quinn packed his suitcase and made his way to a small hill on the city’s edge.

He looked around the woods and noticed the absence of any sort of magic in the surroundings. Be it back home or in the States, the cities always had some kind of magical net that encompassed the entire city. The magical net had functions like facilitating the Trace used to detect underage magic— and in America, the magical city-wide net had another function of detecting Portkeys.

Which was a problem for Quinn.

He pulled out a tiny steel pyramid from his pocket and felt the weight in his hand. The palm-sized pyramid exuded a gentle wave of magic that tugged on the spatial threads in the surroundings.

It was a Portkey. A very personal and very illegal Portkey.

“Would’ve loved to try out intercontinental apparition,” Quinn muttered as he picked up his suitcase from the ground.

Ever since the last year, when he had picked up spatial magic, his prowess with apparition had jumped up exponentially. He could apparate cross-country without a hitch, and even cross-continental was possible at benchmarked distances. But Quinn hadn’t tested intercontinental apparition yet— but he was confident that he could do it if he tried.

But right now wasn’t the time to test that out.

He needed to have all his bodily organs intact for what was to come.

“Maybe on the return trip.”

Quinn clenched the steel pyramid and triggered the magic that whisked him away across the ocean to the small island nation where he came from.

. . .

On the early morning of the third day of his supposed stay, Quinn stepped out of his suitcase dressed in all black of the Noir suit from head to toe. He stretched his arms, looking at the sunlight as it filtered through the leaves of the forest canopy. He had woken up from a very pleasant sleep. His mind, body, and soul were in tip-top shape, something he could be needing a lot today.

He took out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was time to go.

He patted the chest portion and the Noir suit, and it turned into a suit made from a lower-quality material that usually Quinn wouldn’t touch, much less put on, but for today he had to put it on.

Because while Quinn wouldn’t put it, John wore exactly that kind of suit.

Quinn’s muscles all over his body began to twitch and spasm as the bones, muscle structure, the properties of his skin all began to change, and soon, Quinn was gone, and in his place stood someone named John. . . only John.

. . .

John stood in the line to enter the Ministry atrium. He slowly moved up the queue and finally arrived at the front of the queue. He faced a dotted speaker on the wall with a slot beneath it.

A female monotone greeted him, “Name and purpose of visit.”

“John. Inquiry with the Floo Department regarding faulty floo fireplace.”

There was a static silence for a moment before the voice responded, “Mr. John visiting the Floo Department.” There were multiple clicking noises before a badge fell into the lip of the slot beneath the speaker.

John picked up the ‘VISITOR’ badge, put it on his lapel, and finally moved inside the Ministry atrium, where he once again had to go through the security desk, who checked his badge and asked for his wand.

“I don’t have a wand,” said John. “Didn’t bring it today. Forgot it.”

“Forgot it?” the security guard narrowed his eyes. “Step aside; we would like to check.”

John shrugged and submitted to a pat-down and a magical search that came out to be: no wand.

“You can go,” said the security guard.

John finally stepped into the main atrium, but instead of going to the Floo Department where he was supposed to go, he moved towards the part of the atrium that led to the Wizengamot but didn’t leave the atrium. He grabbed a corner, and slowly magic turned him invisible to the naked eye.

John closed his eyes and began the waiting game of patience.

After waiting for a good amount of time, John opened his eyes when he felt a swarm of magic that flooded the atrium. The foreign magic flowed, and John could tell what was coming, so he braced himself.

*Boom!*

It was as if an earthquake had struck the country and the Ministry atrium was the epicenter; if he hadn’t braced himself, he would be lying on the ground with his legs trembling like a newborn calf’s.

John looked to the source of everything sudden that had happened in the last few seconds and saw the Dark Lord standing in his full glory as his Death Eaters filed in from behind him with their wands shooting stunning spells at the people as they shouted everyone to get on the ground.

One of the Death Eaters shot a Killing Curse in the air, which had a great effect as people dropped to their knees and even laid flat stomach-side down on the marble flooring.

John hid behind a pillar that blocked him from Voldemort’s eyes. While still invisible, he slowly moved around Voldemort while keeping a vigilant eye on the Dark Lord. It would be a problem if he got find out now.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” said one of the Death Eaters as John reached halfway through, but he was too slow because of the fear of being spotted by Voldemort.

But then help arrived.

Dumbledore and Aurors barged into the scene, with Dumbledore engaging Voldemort in battle.

John patted his chest, and the cheap sit transformed into the Noir suit with the mask in his that he slipped on his face.

With that, John was gone, and Quinn was not coming out; all that was left was Noir.

When spheres of magical doom came down on the victims with Dumbledore trying to stop Voldemort— that was when Quinn decided that it was the best opportunity.

He charged a strong magic, most vile, and the most damaging spell and shot it towards Voldemort’s back. Just when Quinn thought that the spell would hit, a shield sprung up and blocked his magic.

Quinn stared at Voldemort’s back and the protective shield sizzling because of his ‘backstabbing’ spell.

‘That didn’t work very well, now did it?’ he thought. The look that Voldemort gave him was not something anyone would be happy about. He had been face-to-face with the Dark Lord before, but this was the first time he had seen him so cold and furious— and all of that was directed at him.

‘Oh boy. . .’

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Quinn West – MC – Quinn, Noir, John. . .

FictionOnlyReader – Author – That was what happened for this moment to happen.

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