After That - 1

~
NOTE:
Blame the 3 Bunnies in a Trench coat for this.
~

1.

The missive on the table in front of him was yet another in a string that hadn't stopped since May. Three months of seemingly constant emergencies shattered his hope for a peaceful summer, or life for that matter. Another rising dark lord or lady had popped up. The Minister called for his service. There was always something that needed to be fixed, something that only he could do, or at least that was what the Ministry seemed to think. Being an Auror wasn't what he wanted anymore. He knew that when the offer came. The Ministry had swapped between worshiping and villainizing him on seemingly a weekly basis since he joined the magical world.

Disappearing from the Magical World wasn't easy. Especially now that his full power had settled. He hadn't known at the time, but his battle with Voldemort was yet another magical trial that no one had bothered to explain. The combined magic of the Hallows had given him an insane boost. He had destroyed the Elder wand to remove the temptation. It appeared in his hand when he woke up the next morning. The Stone was buried in the rocks of a beach that didn't have a name. It had been set in a cold silver ring on the hand that held the wand that same morning. He kept the cloak with him at all times, either folded in his interior jacket pocket or carefully arranged over one shoulder under his robe. It was draped across him like a blanket that same morning. They couldn't be destroyed or hidden.

The three relics were never far from him. He had locked them in his vault only for them to appear again the next morning. The connection to Hallows made his magical power dwarf even Dumbledore at his peak so dealing with wanna-be Dark Morons wasn't usually an issue. Sometimes esoteric magic and spells gave him a little trouble, but the Hallows had seen it all before. The spells, charms, curses, and whatever else they tried would slowly wake in his mind. How they functioned, how to counter, and ways to improve the various forms of magic.

Harry wasn't the malnourished child anymore. A healthy diet, regular exercise, and a potion regimen had helped him appear his age. He now stood six-foot-one, his hair was just short of shoulder length though still messy, and his build was lithe. The scar on his forehead had faded to the point where it was a hair-thin line. He no longer needed to wear glasses. The potions to fix his eyesight had been horrible but worth it. He didn't look like Harry Potter anymore, but the newspapers had done their best to keep the public aware of his new, healthy appearance.

He could do as he had before and accept the summons. He would go to the Ministry, get the details, and then head off to 'save the world' once more. Hermione was in Australia, Ron was busy with George and the shop, his relationship with Ginny had fizzled out, and Neville had started working on his Herbology Mastery. He had no idea where Luna was at the time. She traveled constantly while sending him letters on occasion.

The flapping of small wings drew his attention. A multicolored bird the size of a hamster with a rather strange beak zipped through the special flap in the kitchen. His mail was forwarded to a special office to be checked for curses and compulsions before being sent to him via a mailbox next to his front door.

Harry,
I found it! Daddy and I were wrong. The Crumple-Horn Snorkack is a bird! Her name is Benny. She is very polite and likes peanuts. Don't sing anything by Simon and Garfunkel; it makes her very angry.
We found them everywhere once we knew where to look. They use strong ambient magic to hide their signatures. It will work for you too. Look in America, it's big. REALLY big. There are plenty of nexus locations for you.
My Love,
Luna

Harry watched the little bird drift over to the cupboards. It would peck at the doors, wait for a second almost like it was listening, then move on to the next. Finally, she found something that appealed to her. The bird pecked at one of the doors. He strolled over to the cupboard and opened it. Sure enough, there was a jar of peanuts on the shelf. Benny zipped up to it and pecked the glass. Each tap let out a little clink. He grabbed the jar and set it on the table then he opened it. The bird dived into the jar with a musical chirp.

A magical nexus to his magical signature in America. He had no idea how Luna knew what he needed and when but ignoring her was never a good idea. It would definitely solve the issue with the Ministry using him to fix everything that popped up.

~

As usual, Luna was right. America was a lot bigger than he had thought and there were many, many locations of powerful ambient magic. There were plenty of sources for information. The Black Family library had an amazing catalogue of dark arts as well as rather in-depth catalog of magical communities, though that portion may have been a little out of date. Harry set aside the spots associated with the Native Tribes. It didn't feel right to invade their religious places. Then, he removed the spots that the magical community of America had settled. Harry Potter wasn't as famous across the pond, but that didn't mean anonymous. All it would take was some tourists getting a look at him for the information to travel back to the Ministry. They would send Tonks, probably with Teddy on her hip, to tempt him back. He loved her and his godson, but she followed Ministry Orders now that she was Head Auror.

There was a cluster of places that drew his attention since each was marked in some way. Cleavland and Sunnydale were marked each marked with a rune he didn't recognize. San Fransico had a triquetra next to it. Los Angeles had a small doodle of a wolf, ram, and a heart. He had never thought to live in the city, too many people and too much noise. Sure, he could have disappeared in the vast numbers, but it didn't feel right. Cleavland, Los Angeles, and San Fransico were too big for his liking.

That left Sunnydale, which was in California, which was about as far as he could get short of Alaska. He didn't recognize it as a city, not that he knew many beyond the big ones like New York, Los Angeles, Sturgeon, Pheonix, and New Orleans. His searches through the Black Library had also told him a few places he should absolutely avoid. The majority of the state of Maine was pretty much a no-go area. As was Florida, but for different reasons.

It was the best option he had at the moment. He could turn into a nomad if things didn't work out. A trip to Diagon Alley was in his future regardless of his desire. Going out into magical communities was rarely worth the trouble these days. Most places had anti-glamour wards for security and some even kept a daily note of magical signatures. It wasn't illegal as long as the information was erased at the end of the day. Specific names were flagged for safety. Unfortunately, his magical signature would bring more attention than he wanted. Aurors would show up to hand deliver any missives he ignored, reporters would suddenly appear for photo ops, and some enterprising shops would snap a picture of him to use as free advertising.

Buying traveling gear would bring too much attention if he was going to slip away. That also ruled out magical transportation. Not that that was a big sacrifice. He would need to travel the muggle way. Hopefully airplanes weren't as bad as a Port Key.

~

Harry decided that he enjoyed Muggle Flying. Just not eight hours of it. Next time, he told himself, he would take a couple of layovers to help stay sane. The plane landed in Chicago, skipping over New York to avoid the MACUSA main office. There wasn't as big as a presence in the Mid-West, but he was still able to change his money to local currency. He had gotten into the habit of having a good thousand or so muggle cash in case he needed it. Being on the run without access to his vault had taught him that the hard way.

His mokeskin pouch was still connected to the Potter Vault back in Gringotts. Unfortunately, he couldn't use it until he found someone who wouldn't care that it was Goblin Gold. They weren't exactly popular outside of the UK. He didn't know where he could exchange the Gringotts Gold without bringing unwanted attention.

A five-hour flight brought him to Santa Barbara, which was about a twenty-minute bus ride to Sunnydale. Harry had learned some interesting things on his trip across the United States. For one, it was big, like really, really big. Second, there were numerous kinds of magic that he could feel even from an airplane. Third, they seemed to forget that trains existed.

The bus arrived in Sunnydale at 2 AM. Harry stepped out and could feel the local magic wash over him. It definitely would hide his signature, even if it wasn't the type that he was accustomed with. Thankfully, he could still feel his own magic.

Harry was about to head into the Bus Station when a person in a suit ran by. It wouldn't have been all that odd, except the back of the coat was sliced along the back and they were leaving a sporadic trail of dirt as they went. A moment later three people around his age arrived. They were breathing hard and stopped in front of the station. He raised his eyebrows as he took in the details of the trio. A tall teenage guy with short black hair that was about his height, a petite redhead, and a short guy with spiky blond hair. Harry felt a little bad for labeling him the 'short guy' since he had spent most of his younger years with the same title.

"Did…" the tall guy paused to take a deep breath. "Did you see someone come this way?"

"Ridges on their forehead, fangs, covered in grave dirt…" The redhead added.

"Willow," the shorter guy said softly. "Maybe not those details."

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. What had he gotten himself into this time? Well, it would make sense that a strange magical nexus would have some supernatural elements. The fact that he found the town listed in the Black Library should have been a hint as well.

"Grave dirt," Harry repeated. "That explains the suit."

"You're British!" The tall guy said. "Spot o' tea, cheerio, and all that?"

"We know a British guy," the redhead said. "Do you know Giles? No, wait. His name is Rupert Giles. He's the librarian at out school. Of course you don't know him. It's a big island, you wouldn't know everyone just because you're from the same country. That'd be like asking me if I knew George from Colorado."

"Do you know a George from Colorado?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," the redhead nodded. "He's my cousin."

"We're getting off track here," the short guy said. "Did you see a running man?"

They carried sticks of wood that were too thick to be wands and came to a sharp point. The short guy followed Harry's attention to the sharpened pieces of wood they carried.

"It's a complicated situation," the short guy said.

The methodical part of his brain kicked in. Being Hermione's friend meant that people thought she was the brains of the trio. They were correct, but that didn't mean that Harry was an idiot. He had to exercise his logical side a few times on Ministry Missions.

"Unknown magical nexus, grave dirt, split suit, fangs. They cut the suits like that for burial; the man was running. Likely undead. They were too fast to be a standard zombie; he had too much experience with those. An inferius wouldn't pass up the chance to attack a person. Undead, fangs, fast, and some at least a little self-preservation. That narrowed the possibilities.

"Vampire?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" The taller guy asked.

"Xander!" The redhead squeaked. "We can't just tell people there are vampires in town. What if he's a vampire too?"

"He knows about vampires and he's British," the taller guy, Xander, said. "He's probably Giles' new apprentice or something."

"Are you?" The redhead asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I'm not a vampire and I don't know Giles."

"Oh," the redhead wilted a little.

"How did you know he was a vampire?" The short guy asked.

"I have some experience with things like that," Harry shrugged. "Do you know a good hotel in the area?"

"You don't want to use the hotels around here," the short guy said.

"Are they owned by vampires?" Harry asked.

"Bed bugs," the guy replied.

"Nasty," Harry shivered.

"We could introduce you to Giles!" The girl piped up. "He'd love to meet someone that knows about vampires and stuff."

"Plus, British," Xander said like that was a big selling point.

Harry sighed. It seemed that fate, destiny, or whatever wasn't done with him yet. He had traveled half-way across the globe only to find himself in another mess. Part of him wanted to buy another bus ticket to somewhere other than here. Looking at the trio, he found that desire snuff out. Three teenagers fighting vampires. He would have given almost anything for some help during the last few years.

"Damn it," Harry muttered. "Sure. Let's meet your librarian."

"Oh, you'll love him," the redhead said. "He knows a lot about all sorts of things. Vampires, demons…"

"Werewolves," the short guy added.

"I've had enough of werewolves for a while," Harry muttered.

That made the three of them pause.

Harry sighed, yet again, "which one of you got bit?"

"Why?" The short guy asked.

Harry looked a closer at the guy as he mentally counted the days until the next full moon. It was still a week away.

"Have you eaten anyone?" Harry asked.

"No!" The redhead yelled.

"No problem then," he replied. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

They didn't react to his name. At least that was one thing in his favor.

"Bond, James Bond," Xander tried to do a Scottish Accent.

"That's Xander," the short guy said. "I'm Oz."

"Willow," the redhead waved. "Let's go, it's getting late, and we've got school tomorrow. Do you go to school? Are you a transfer student? We could show you around and introduce you to people."

"I just graduated," Harry replied.