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Chapter One
I'm Leaving, On a Jet Plane

Published 9/14/2013

Harry Potter sat in a departure lounge in London's Heathrow Airport, waiting for his flight to leave. The ticket in his jacket had a bewildering jumble of information on it, but as best he could decipher, he would leave Heathrow and arrive at JFK Airport seven or eight hours later. He took it out and stared at it a while, then stuffed it back into his jacket. He'd gotten a reasonable price on a round-trip ticket, equal to about 100 Galleons if he stayed in America for at least two weeks, but that didn't matter much — he was never coming back to Britain. There was nothing left for him here.

The overnight bag at his feet was packed with a change of Muggle clothing, a toothbrush, a comb (one he hadn't used in years) and nothing else. His real baggage was a mokeskin pouch hidden in a secret pocket in his jacket, a pocket no Muggle scanning device could detect; it had been charmed by his friend Hermione Weasley, neé Granger, years ago when he had become an Auror working for Gawain Robards. Eventually, in 2007, Harry took over as Head of the Auror Office himself. But now…

"Flight 29 for New York will begin boarding at Gate 77 shortly," a voice announced over the public address system. Harry put aside his thoughts, picked up his carry-on, and began moving toward the boarding area. In a few minutes he and magical Britain would be quits forever.

He joined the line of people getting on the flight and gave his ticket to the attendant. A tortuously slow walk down the aerobridge to the plane, then a twisting, turning slog through the crowded aisles to find his seat: 49C. This plane was not as big as he'd imagined; there was barely room for six seas in each row with a thin walkway through the middle of them. Fortunately, his seat was on the aisle, so he wouldn't be boxed in on both sides.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at 49C someone was already in his seat. A pretty brown-haired woman with hazel eyes sat reading a magazine, steadily ignoring him as Harry stood there, waiting for her to look up. "Excuse me, ma'am," Harry finally said. "I believe you're sitting in my seat."

The young lady looked up at him. "I don't think so, bright eyes," she said, tapping the set number on the overhead compartment. "Seat 48C."

Harry smiled thinly. "This is seat 49C," he said. "That's 48C," he added, pointing to the seat in front of them.

"What? No it's not," the young lady said, leaning out to look at the overhead. "It says right there — er —" She read the seat number then turned back to Harry, smiling wryly. "Oops, my bad," she said, gathering a purse and a carry-on from beneath the seat in front of her. Harry stepped back to let her into the aisle. "Sorry, she said, sliding into the seat ahead of him and doing her best to disappear behind it.

"No problem," Harry murmured, taking the seat she'd vacated and dropping his carry-on under the seat where hers had been. He closed his eyes, finally able to enjoy a moment without being on alert. He'd half-expected a trio of Aurors to show up at Heathrow and try to bring him back to the Ministry.

But he still wasn't out of the woods yet, he reminded himself. While it was unlikely that anyone at the Ministry would suspect he was leaving Britain by such conventional methods, Ron might've been able to figure it out if Harry had given him any idea that he was planning on leaving. But Ron was still a Weasley and family was family; he would have no choice but to side with Ginny publicly, no matter what he thought personally about what she was doing.

"You know, I'm not usually quite so absent-minded," a voice said, and Harry opened his eyes again. The girl in the seat ahead was looking at him over the back. "I've just been really busy here in London the past few days, finishing up a European perspective piece on the 'Contact Event.'"

"Oh," Harry said, having no idea what she was talking about.

The girl gave him a penetrating look. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

After a moment Harry shook his head.

"You're joking, right? It's only the biggest story of the decade!" she exclaimed, incredulous. "Maybe the century. Maybe even the millennium! Have you been hiding under a rock or something?"

"Not really," Harry said, becoming a bit irritated with her attitude. "I've been busy, too."

"Oh, really?" Now she sounded almost condescending. "What do you do?"

"I'm an — in…security work," Harry hedged. Obviously he wasn't going to explain what being Head Auror (actually ex-Head Auror now) for magical Britain entailed.

"Oh, did you finally run out of donuts?" the young woman sneered. When Harry didn't react, she shrugged. "I guess that's more of an American joke. Anyway, sorry to take up your valuable time, Mr. Security Man." She gave him a mocking salute then turned around and disappeared from view again.

Harry sighed to himself, closing his eyes again, desperately hoping that neither she nor anyone else would bother him again during the flight. The pilot announced they were getting into position for takeoff, and a few minutes later the plane lifted into the air. He was finally out of Britain forever.

Once the initial excitement of being on a jet airplane for the first time wore off, there really wasn't much to do. There were earphones for listening to music and several channels to select from, but Harry wasn't much interested in that. He could've used a butterbeer to calm his nerves but there obviously wasn't going to be any on a Muggle flight; he wasn't even sure if they served alcohol on these flights or not. There were screens on the backs of each seat to watch movies on, but the moment the plane was in the air the girl in the seat ahead of him leaned her chair back so it was almost in Harry's lap and began to snore. Harry couldn't see the screen in front of him, even if he had wanted to watch Cowboys & Aliens.

Which left — what? Contemplation of his life for the past few years? No, he'd had more than enough time for self-recrimination and doubts about what he was doing. The change was done — he was out of Britain, free from Ginny, and that was that.

Harry sighed again. There was a certain bittersweet finality to leaving; he would never see Ginny again, and thank Merlin for that, but it was true he would never see his children James, Albus or Lily again, either, nor his best friend Ron, nor all of the other people who had brought happiness in his life since Voldemort had died, 13 years ago. The problem was that, once certain lines had been crossed, they could never be uncrossed, could never be forgiven, no matter how much you might want to. Once trust was gone, especially with an Auror, it was very hard to recapture. Harry would have to take his chances in a far-away land like America, a place that none of his friends would think him likely to go, nor would the Ministry. Weariness finally catching up to him, Harry nodded off.

=ooo=

Harry awoke feeling stiff and even more tired than when he'd gone to sleep. He thought he'd become used to sleeping whenever and wherever the opportunity had arisen — a necessary skill learned by all Aurors — but falling asleep in an airline seat was new to him. He stretched slowly and carefully, letting the kinks in his muscles work themselves out, until a rather unpleasant sound reached his ears — it sounded unnervingly like Ginny's snore, and Harry glanced around to make sure he wasn't back at Grimmauld Place in bed next to her. No, he was still on the airplane heading for America. So what was that sound —?

It was the brown-haired girl in the seat ahead of him. She snored again, loudly, and Harry wondered how he had managed to stay asleep with that snoring going on. He glanced at the other passengers in the nearby rows; most of them were staring towards her with their faces expressing irritation, annoyance and downright anger. Harry gestured to a flight attendant.

She must've guessed what he was going to say, for when she hurried over to him she whispered apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir, but I've tried to wake her several times — she keeps falling back asleep!"

"I see," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "How long before we land?"

"We're scheduled to arrive in about an hour," the attendant said. "But we're a little ahead of schedule. We should get there in about 45 minutes."

"Thanks," Harry said, sitting back in his seat, and the attendant went back to her business, flinching as the girl snored loudly again.

"Can't they do anything about her?" a woman in the seat next to Harry complained. "She's been snoring like that for the past seven hours!"

"She must be pretty tired," Harry commented. "The attendant said she keeps falling back asleep when they wake her up." Which come to think of it, he could do something about that. He reached into his jacket, into the pocket where his mokeskin pouch was, then reached inside it and pulled out his wand. With the young lady's seat almost in his lap, his jacket would hide his wand. He pointed his wand at her through the back of the chair and silently cast Innervate.

"Huh? What?" The young lady sat bolt upright, looking around. There were several sighs of relief from the seats around them as the snoring stopped. She looked at the man sitting next to her. "Was I sleeping?"

"Yes you were," the man said curtly.

"Huh," Harry heard her say. "I didn't think I was that tired. I feel pretty good now."

"I'm so happy for you," the man muttered in a sarcastic tone.

Smiling to himself, Harry put his wand back into his pouch and closed the pocket. It sealed itself and vanished; no Muggle scanning device could detect that pocket or its contents now.

Forty minutes later the plane landed and taxied toward the terminal where they would get off the plane. It seemed to take hours but was more like four or five minutes. Even Apparition was preferable to this waiting!

The pilot finally announced they were ready to leave the plane and mass confusion erupted. Everyone stood and began grabbing their things from the overhead compartments, trying to be the first ones off the plane. Harry got his carry-on from under the seat and waited his turn to stand and walk off the plane.

After leaving the plane, he'd been warned there was something called "Customs" that he had to go through, but with no passport or identification he would have to improvise, as he had when getting his ticket back in London.

Once off the plane he was directed to the line forming for non-U.S. citizens to show their passports and declaration forms. Harry had taken a magazine from the holder in the seat ahead of him. During the last hour of waiting for the plane to land he'd chatted with the lady in the seat next to him, who showed him her British passport and the declaration page they'd each been given before the flight departed. Harry used the lady's passport as a model to create a passable version of one for himself, and took his crumpled declaration form out of his pocket. Good thing he hadn't thrown it away!

He finally arrived at the Customs and Border Patrol checkpoint where a middle-aged officer held out his hand. "Passport and declaration form," he said in a flat tone.

"Here you are," Harry said cheerfully, handing over his fake passport and blank form. The officer stared at the form a moment, then held it up for Harry to see.

"There's nothing on this," he said, annoyed. "You have to fill this out before you can get in."

"Sorry," Harry said. "Didn't have a pen." At the same moment his hand was making subtle gestures toward the man.

"You didn't have a pen —?!" the officer suddenly cut himself off, shook his head, then smiled at Harry. "Sorry, sir. You were saying…?"

"I wonder if you might fill that form out for me," Harry suggested.

"No problem, sir — I'll fill it in for you." The officer took a pen off his desk and began writing on the form while Harry waited. He smiled at the people in line behind him. "Very accommodating fellow," he remarked. The people in line were looking at one another in confusion. Was this how things were supposed to work now?

The CBP officer put the form aside. "May I see your passport , sir?"

Harry handed it to him. "You'll find everything in order," he remarked.

The officer gave it a cursory glance. "Everything seems to be in order," he said cheerfully, then stamped it and handed it back to Harry. "Welcome to the United States, sir," he said, smiling vacantly.

"Thanks." Harry took the passport and walked away with his carry-on.

A moment later the CBP officer shook his head as if coming out of a nap. He looked around, frowning, then gestured impatiently at the first person in line. "Next," he said imperiously.

John F. Kennedy Airport was huge, Harry soon found out, and somewhat confusing. In London he'd been fortunate enough to find a few Muggles on holiday who told him how to get around in Heathrow, but none of them could tell him much about JFK. Consequently he wandered through the gates and terminals trying to find a way out, until finally he stopped at a fast food hamburger shop to get something to eat and drink.

He recognized the characteristic golden arches of the shop; you could see them around London as well. Ron had considered himself a connoisseur of hamburgers so he and Harry had visited about every store in London over the years. An island of familiarity in a sea of the unknown.

Harry walked up to the counter and looked around for someone to wait on him. He could hear people moving around in the back but there was no one at the front. Well, it gave him a moment to consider what to eat, though he usually just went with a combo meal. When someone finally came out to take his order Harry ordered his usual meal, then pulled a roll of American money out of his pocket to pay. He peeled off a twenty-dollar bill, got the change and the ticket for his order, then turned to find a seat to wait for his food.

A kid behind him stepping up to the counter accidentally bumped into him. "Excuse me —" the kid muttered, then "Owww! What the hell?!"

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as the kid pulled his hand back as if he'd been shocked. In fact, he had been shocked; he'd tried to put his hand into the pocket where Harry's money was, and the magical wards he'd put there had prevented access.

"What the hell?" the kid said again, angrily, as if he'd been the wronged party. "Man, what've you got in your pocket?!"

"Not your hand, I can tell you that," Harry said pointedly. "Be happy you can still use it, kid."

"Man, I'm gonna sue you!" the kid snapped, poking his finger into Harry's chest.

Harry briefly considered Obliviating the kid, but he'd have use his wand for that, and it was just simpler to Confund him wandlessly like he'd done the CBP officer. He held up his hand as if waving off the poking finger, then cast the spell. The kid reeled slightly, then blinked and looked around like he'd just woken up. "What'm I doing?" he asked, stupidly.

"Don't worry, you're fine," Harry said solicitously, patting the kid on the shoulder. Behind him a server called out his number and Harry turned and picked up his tray. "Here," he said, handing the young man the dessert from his combo meal. "Have a cookie."

"Thanks," the kid said dazedly, and wandered away.

Harry found a table with no one around and sat down to eat his meal and think for a bit. He was out of Britain and it would be a while before anyone figured out that he'd left the country, since Ginny had forced him to leave Grimmauld Place. Even after people realized he was gone, they would probably assume he'd gone knocking about in Europe. So he had six months, perhaps a year, before Ginny would start feeling the strain of raising three children on her own and would want to get into his vault. To do that she would have to petition the Ministry to check his last will and testament and see if he had died.

Due to the nature of Auror work, every Auror's will had a spell on it that would activate when the Auror died. It wasn't quite Dark magic but it did involve blood and killing an animal that represented the Auror's animal avatar — in Harry's case a stag. When they realized he was alive they would post notices in the Daily Prophet each month for six months, and if he didn't respond to one of them he could be pronounced legally deceased for purposes of obtaining his money and property. The vault his parents had left him, augmented with the gold Sirius had left him, had contained a sizeable amount of treasure.

That treasure was now in his mokeskin pouch, inside his secure jacket pocket. Well, Harry admitted to himself, it was most of the treasure from his vault. To make the gold more transferrable he'd had the goblins at Gringotts convert it from Galleons, Sickles and Knuts to gold bullion, for which they charged him a hefty 15 percent fee. Since each Galleon contained about one-fifth of a gram of gold and he'd had roughly forty-seven thousand Galleons in his vault before he left Britain, the 8,000 grams of gold in his pouch was worth about — Harry had looked up the price of gold just yesterday — about 440,000 U.S. dollars. He'd had the goblins exchange a few Galleons for U.S. currency — about a thousand dollars walking around money — and had left just 20 gold Galleons in his vault, the minimum amount allowed in a vault for the security level of Harry's vault. Once Ginny managed to get his vault opened she wasn't going to find much financial help there.

His children were another matter. James, Albus and Lily hadn't asked for their parents to break up, and Harry felt pretty bad about abandoning them. But the money for their education at Hogwarts was already paid for from his Auror's salary over the past 13 years, and there was a vault for each of them with enough gold in it for their school supplies, held by the Head of the school until each of them came of school age. The magical contracts Harry had placed on the keys would allow only the child who owned that key to use it. Hopefully Ginny wouldn't be so selfish as to force them to remove the gold and give it to her.

"You look pretty serious there, bright eyes," a voice said, and Harry started. He hadn't been paying attention to his detection spells; someone had walked right into them without him noticing. He looked up into the hazel eyes of the brown-haired young lady from the plane. She was holding a food tray and smiling at him. "Are you having some food for thought?"

Harry smiled at her joke. "Yes, I guess so," he said. He gestured to the chair across from him. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure, why not?" she said, sliding into the chair before he'd finished asking. She unwrapped her Quarter-Pounder and bit into it with obvious hunger. "So what d'you think of the United States so far?" she asked around bites of the burger.

"I think I need a little more information before I give an opinion on that," Harry said, nibbling on a French fry.

The young woman nodded absently, still chewing. "You seem to be doing okay so far, though."

A little alarm went off in Harry's head. "Oh, really?" he said, interested. "Why do you say that?"

The woman nodded over her shoulder. "That kid that tried to pick your pocket — he didn't get too far, did he? Either you've got a taser in your pocket or a heck of joy buzzer in there."

Harry wasn't sure what a joy buzzer was, but it was obvious she'd been following him. But without malicious intent, it seemed, since she hadn't set off any of his Foe detection spells. "Have you been following me, Miss?"

"You can call me Lois." She smiled engagingly at him. "I kind of have a nose for interesting people, you might say. It was really interesting, for example, how that Customs guard just let you waltz right into the country without a valid declaration form or passport."

"How do you know that?" Harry smiled, wondering if he was going to have to get his wand out for an Obliviation spell.

"I talked him into showing me your form. He filled it out with his own information. Unless you're James Spencer from Albany, New York..." she trailed off, perhaps waiting for him to deny everything.

So Harry decided to deny nothing. At least as far as it went to convince her he was harmless, if not completely honest.

"Actually, I'm Harry Evans from South Walpole," Harry said, using the alias and cover location he'd decided on before beginning this adventure. He offered his hand across the table. "Please to meet you, Lois, er…"

"Lois Lane," she finished. "I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis."

"So you're a reporter?" Harry asked, for clarification.

She winked at him. "Nothing gets by you, bright eyes," she said.

Harry smiled at her. Shit, he thought. The first person I meet in America and she's a reporter! After dealing with Rita Skeeter and her crusades against him, both while he was in school and afterwards while he was an Auror and Head Auror, Harry was not too keen on hanging out with someone who might turn around and do a tell-all story on him.

As if reinforcing his feelings, Lois asked, "So where are you headed to next, Mr. Evans? Got any plans to travel, see the USA?"

Harry glanced down at his plate. Imagine that, he hadn't even taken a bite of his hamburger yet! "I guess I hadn't thought much about it, Miss Lane. This was a kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip. It is Miss Lane, isn't it?"

Lois smiled at him. "It is, for now." She held up her left hand. "I'm engaged."

Harry held up his left hand, pointing to the pale band of skin at the base of his ring finger. "I used to be married." I still am, I suppose — but in name only. "Anyway, what are your suggestions? Where should I go in this big wide country of yours if I want to 'get away from it all,' as the saying goes."

Lois chuckled, a deep, sultry sound that managed to arouse at least a memory in Harry of his younger days, before he and Ginny were married. "You know, Harry, you remind me a little of someone. He even looks a little like you, with those glasses and that black hair."

"Do I dare guess," Harry asked. "Is it your fiancé?"

"Yeah," Lois smiled. "Well, except he's taller and bigger than you. Otherwise you're exactly the same. Anyway, what I was going to say was, he kind of likes small town life. He doesn't seem at home in big cities like Metropolis or New York."

"I agree with that," Harry nodded. "I spent a lot of time when I was a kid between a small town outside London and a boarding school up in the north. There was a small town nearby that we could visit several times during the school year."

"Well, then you'd probably like Smallville. It's where my fiancé Clark grew up. It's really a small town environment. He still owns his parents' farm there, even though we're looking for an apartment in Metropolis. We both work at the Planet."

Yeah, that sounds like a great idea: Go live in a small town with a snoopy reporter and her reporter fiancé.

And on the other hand, the more completely he lost himself in this country, the better he'd be able to hide from the prying eyes of both the British Ministry for Magic and the United States Department of Magic. Neither of those two secret governments got along very well, though he'd done a bit of work with the DOM in the past and it hadn't been too painful. Tedious, but not painful. Since he was under the DOM's radar they would probably tell the MOM he wasn't in the country. That could keep him safe for years, until he was ready to go back and see his kids once again. If they would want him back after he ran out on them, that is.

All that took only a bare moment to think over. "So where is this Smallville?" Harry asked.

"In Kansas," Lois replied.

"Alright, then, where is Kansas?" Harry continued, patiently.

"Don't know much U.S. geography, do you?" Lois said. "It's in the center of the county. The nation's breadbasket. The land of Oz."

"I thought that was Australia," Harry commented.

"What?" Lois looked blank. "When did I mention Australia?"

"Oz is a nickname for Australia," Harry said. "Don't you know your world geography?"

"Touché," Lois said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a phone. She glanced at the time. "My flight's going to leave for Metropolis soon," she said, putting it away again. "Think about it. If you come to Metropolis, look me up." She handed him her business card.

Harry looked at the card, then up at Lois. "I'll think about it," he nodded. "Oh, here's my card, by the way." He reached into his pocket and drew out a business card with the name Harry Evans on it. Lois took it and looked at it.

"There's no way to contact you," she said, looking at the card. "No phone, no e-mail address. How am I going to get in touch with you?"

Harry smiled. "Don't worry, I'll find you when you need me."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Alright. Later, bright eyes." And she was off, walking briskly down the terminal toward her next flight.

Harry watched her leave, admiring the view as she walked away. Would he go to this Metropolis, or Smallville? Maybe, maybe not. He'd decide that after a night's sleep, after Lois had a chance to get home and forget about him for a while. That little "business card" he'd given her would make his trip to Kansas a whole lot easier than getting into the United States had been.

=ooo=

Harry had wandered around the airport a while after Lois left, poking around in the various stores and shops that were scattered about the terminals. Except for the non-magical nature of these shops the place was like a super-sized Diagon Alley. It seemed like you could buy more things here than you could ever carry on a plane. Unless, of course, you had a pouch like Harry did.

But Harry was in a looking mood, not a buying one. He felt like he'd circumnavigated the airport by the time he stopped in a restaurant and ordered dinner, a very tasty steak called a ribeye, with a baked potato and assorted vegetables.

After that, he found a hotel and checked in, paying in cash for his room (a fact that seemed to dumbfound the hotel clerk who took his money). The room was spacious compared to what was offered at the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry was paying several time over what old Tom charged. There was a television with what seemed like an infinite number of channels on it, including some that would have made him blush in his school days. After 13 years as an Auror, however, they seemed almost pedestrian.

There was also a very small refrigerator, stocked with little bottles of liquor and treats, and Harry considered having one or two, or ten, but resisted the temptation. He didn't need to be hung over in the morning when he left. The bed was large and after staring at the television for a few hours it felt very comfortable when he climbed into it. He was asleep within minutes.

There was no real hurry about leaving the next day, so Harry awoke at a relatively late hour — nine a.m. by the clock on the bedside table. He showered, shaved, and got dressed, then made sure his things were gathered up and went down to the lobby where he discovered he'd missed the free continental breakfast the hotel offered. No matter, he decided; he could eat when he got to his destination.

He entered an old-style phone booth, but not to make a call. He would need his wand for this, and there was no point putting on a show for the people in the lobby. The business card he had given Lois Lane had a location spell on it; it was a quick way for a wizard to familiarize himself with a place before he magically traveled there, assuming he had some way to get the locator-enchanted object to that location. Miss Lane had kindly provided that transportation, though she didn't know it.

Harry cast the spell linking him to the enchanted card, then closed his eyes as he "saw" his surroundings. It was inside a room with many desks and many people working and moving around them. Well, Miss Lane had said she was reporter — that was apparently the newsroom where she worked. The card's current location was going to make this a little difficult, Harry realized; Portkeying into a room filled with Muggles could be a bit tricky, though he'd had enough experience to know he could arrive there with no problem. Explaining how he had appeared out of thin air would be the problem! There was one other thing he would need if he was going to do this.

Harry reached into his mokeskin pouch, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak. It had come in quite handy over the years, especially for an Auror. He pulled the Cloak over himself, then fished a coin out of his pocket to use as the Portkey. Visualizing the open spot behind Miss Lane's desk, Harry tapped the coin, softly saying, "Portus," and smiled as it momentarily glowed blue. He'd set the Portkey to activate in 10 seconds, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself for —

The hook-behind-his-navel sensation pulled him forward into a whirlwind of whooshing sounds and flashing colors, and he spun around and around until he could see images of the newsroom spinning below him. His point of view flew downward and his feet touched the floor of the newsroom, completing the spell.

Harry Potter had come to Metropolis.

Harry looked around from beneath his Cloak, orienting himself. Ahead of him were two desks facing one another; a name plaque on the far desk said Clark Kent. Lois had said her fiancé's name was Clark, and that they both worked at the Planet, so that could be his desk. No one was at either desk, so Harry searched for a place where he could remove his Cloak without being seen. He saw an elevator opening and a tall, dark-haired fellow wearing glasses coming out of it, and decided that was as good a place as any. Harry made for the elevator, being sure to give way to people walking around him.

But as he slipped around the tall man, Harry felt — something. It was a strange sensation, coming as it seemed from the man he was walking past. Harry stopped and stared at the man, trying to understand the sensation he'd felt.

The man turned and looked at him.

No, he hadn't. He was just looking around, as if he'd sensed something just as Harry had. He moved his head slowly back and forth, as if he were looking for something. Harry was already invisible beneath the Cloak, but he needed to be even more undetectable. He silently cast a Silencing Charm around himself, keeping any sound he might make from being heard outside the spell's area of effect. Which seemed fortunate, because the man then turned his head as if listening for something too. Harry must've cast his spell in time, because the man shrugged minutely and walked away.

Harry turned and made for the elevator. He went inside but didn't push a button for another floor; he merely slipped off the Cloak of Invisibility and put it into his pouch, stuck his wand in his back pocket, hidden by his jacket, then pushed the button to open the elevator doors again.

Harry walked into the room, looking around as if he'd just gotten there, then made his way back to where he'd first appeared. Not surprisingly, he found the tall man sitting at Clark Kent's desk. Lois's desk was still empty.

Had this guy somehow sensed Harry's presence? Even some Muggles were sensitive to the auras of others; this Kent could be one of those people. As Harry approached him, he saw Clark tense slightly, as if aware of him. That was strange; the Silencing Charm was still active, so Clark should have heard nothing: not Harry's footsteps, not his breathing, nothing at all. He seemed to be pretending Harry wasn't there.

Harry canceled the Silencing spell and spoke. "Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Lois Lane?"

The man turned in his chair to look at Harry. "Lois?" His voice wasn't what Harry expected; soft, a little high-pitched, and his demeanor was rather mild-mannered. "She's probably up talking to our editor-in-chief right now." He stood, towering over Harry, and asked, "How do you know Lois?"

"I'm Harry Evans," Harry said, extending his hand. Clark took it and they shook. Powerful grip, Harry thought, though Clark hadn't tried to squeeze his hand very hard; he didn't seem the type for the macho crap that some guys felt they had to exhibit to dominate others. "I met Lois on the plane from London yesterday, and she suggested I come visit Metropolis."

"Yes, she mentioned you," Clark said, smiling. "She said she wasn't sure if you would take her up on the offer."

"I wasn't sure I would, either," Harry said honestly. "The United States is a big place and there are a lot of things to see."

"What made you change your mind?" Clark asked. There was a slight edge to the question that made Harry wonder what the man was thinking. Lois was a beautiful young woman; a lot of guys probably tried to hit on her, engaged or not. Was Clark the jealous boyfriend type? Harry didn't think so, but there was no need to stoke any potential flames.

"Well, I like small-town living," Harry said. "Lois said Smallville is pretty much a typical small town in Kansas, so I thought I'd come have a look."

Clark grinned. "Smallville is pretty normal these days, but it wasn't always like that. We've had tornados in the past, meteor storms, all sorts of weird stuff. I'm glad to say all that's quieted down now. Oh, here —"

He reached back on his desk and picked up a picture frame. Here's a picture of my parents in front of their farm."

Harry took the picture. A blond man and red-headed woman were standing side-by-side, smiling at the camera. There was a simple-looking house in the background, and Harry could see a mail box with the name "Kent" on the side. "Nice," Harry said, handing the picture back. "Your parents still live there?"

"No," Clark said, his voice tinged with sadness. "My dad passed on and my mom is in Washington D.C., in the U.S. Senate."

"Sorry about your dad," Harry said, meaning it. With both his parents gone, he was glad Clark still had one parent living.

"Thanks," Clark said quietly. He put the picture back on his desk, staring at it for several seconds. He looked back and Harry and smiled gamely, trying to break the mood that had descended. "So, you're thinking of visiting Smallville, then."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. It was time for him to leave; there were a few things he had to do before heading to Smallville. "Well, it was good to meet you, Clark. Tell Lois I said hello, and that I'll try and look the two of you up again sometime soon."

"Great," Clark said, shaking his hand again. "Take care, Harry."

Harry nodded and Clark watched as he walked toward the elevator. A very nice fellow, he decided; he could see why Lois liked him.

And he thought he could see why she might have an "intuition" about him, as she'd put it. There was something about Harry Clark couldn't quite pinpoint, but he was different than other people, somehow. Clark had not felt himself weaken around Harry, so he probably hadn't been exposed to Kryptonite like so many people in Smallville had over the years. So that left — what? Clark didn't know, but Harry was probably someone he should keep an eye on, at least while he was in Metropolis, and especially if he went to Smallville. He turned back to his computer and went to work on the piece he and Lois were writing for Perry on the newest phenomenon to hit the world — Superman.

=ooo=

Harry walked out of the Daily Planet building with a plan half-formed in his mind: before he went to look around Smallville he had to do something with the 8000 grams of gold in his mokeskin pouch. It wasn't going to do him any good if it stayed in there.

The obvious thing to do was to go to a bank. Gringotts had handled his vault and gold for his entire life — it seemed reasonable that the banks here in Metropolis would do the same.

However, in the first bank he found, Metropolis National Bank, he was quickly disabused of this quaint notion by the bank manager. "I'm afraid, Mr. Evans, that we do not handle transactions with gold bullion," that gentleman told him, apologetically. "You can have a dealer buy the gold from you at the current rate of exchange, and we will be happy to set up accounts for you. In fact, there is a gold dealer in this very building. You will find his store around the east corner — LL's Gold and Silver Coins and Exchange."

Harry thanked the man and left the bank, walking around until he found the shop the man had mentioned. A thin, middle aged man at the counter had nodded a silent greeting and asked what he needed.

"I have some gold bullion to sell," Harry said.

"How much?" the man asked.

"About 8000 grams," Harry said.

The man gave him a dubious smile. "That's about —" the man thought for a moment. "— almost 17 pounds of gold, friend. I don't see you carrying anything that could hold that much gold."

"It's in my pocket," Harry said, smiling.

The man didn't seem convinced. "If you say so," he said, shrugging. "Show me."

Harry reached into his jacket, going into his mokeskin pouch and grabbing a handful of the gold bars. The goblins at Gringotts had recast his Galleons into100-gram bars, then converted his Sickles and Knuts to Galleons and cast them into 5-gram bars. It took him a while, but soon there were 72 100-gram bars and 156 5-gram bars sitting on the counter. The dealer's eyes were bulging as he watched all that gold come from a jacket pocket.

"That must be a pretty damn deep pocket," he muttered. "Let me go get my scale." The man walked into an adjoining office, leaving Harry alone to look around the store. There were rows of countertops with what must have been hundreds of gold and silver coins, bars, and ingots. The shop itself was rather long and not very wide, lending itself to the overall display style. At the moment he was the only customer in the store, which didn't seem that unusual if most people were working during the day.

There was a tickle from his Foe detection spell and Harry invoked the Supersensory spell that he and Ron had developed a few years ago with Hermione's help. The spell was an imitation of the way Mad-Eye Moony's Eye had functioned; it let you "see" in any direction without turning your head, and if you concentrated it would even work through walls and other solid objects, though you could only see as far as your eyes normally allowed. Very handy for an Auror — Harry understood why Moody had used his Eye as much as he did, quite apart from having lost his own years before he acquired it.

There was a fellow watching him from a doorway at the far end of the shop, just barely visible behind the frame. Harry pretended to study the coins in the counter in front of him as he studied the man. Not very old, rather weedy looking. Not the type someone like the gold and silver dealer would like walking around in his shop. But since he was behind the counters, he must be there for a reason.

The dealer returned with a scale and began weighing the gold bars. The total weight came out to 7980 grams. "I'd like to test one for purity," the dealer said, and Harry nodded agreement. The goblins would have been quite scrupulous in making sure the gold matched the .9999 fine rating stamped on each bar. The dealer brought out a bar magnet and held it over several of the bars. Nothing happened. The dealer nodded. "Non-magnetic. Good," he said. "Now for the acid test." He brought out a small vial of liquid. "If this metal reacts with the nitric acid," he told Harry. "It's not real gold." There was a small dropper in the bottle which the dealer used to place a bit of liquid on one of the bars. Again, there was no reaction. "It looks real," the dealer said, convinced.

Harry nodded. "What's your rate for gold today?"

The man pulled a small notepad from one of his pockets. "It's $59.78 per gram," he said. "For 7980 grams that's —" he ran a quick calculation on a pocket calculator — "that's about $477,044.40."

"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded, smiling.

"How about we round it to, say, $475,000?" the dealer suggested.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's over 2000 dollars off the current rate."

"Overhead," the dealer shrugged.

"Sorry we can't do business," Harry said, and began putting the gold bars back into his pocket.

"Whoa, wait a minute," the dealer quickly stopped him. "How about $476,000?"

"How about $477,000," Harry suggested. "You can keep the 44 dollars."

The dealer looked conflicted. Harry could tell it was all an act — the guy was playing the victim in order to cut a better deal, but it wasn't working on Harry. "Alright, you got me over a barrel. Four hundred and seventy-seven large it is."

They shook hands. There was a ghost of a smirk on the guy's lips, like he was enjoying some private joke. "You got anything to put the money in, buddy?"

"I guess not," Harry said, deciding he couldn't plausibly stuff all the money he'd be getting into his pocket. Screwing around with this guy by pulling eight kilos of gold bullion from his pocket was one thing; he probably didn't want to do that in a Muggle bank, however.

"Don't worry, I got something you can use." The buy reached under the counter and brought out a metal briefcase. "Nice, ain't it?" he said, as Harry looked it over. "A hundred bucks."

Harry shrugged. What was a hundred dollars when he was getting 477 thousand? "I'll take it." He would only need it for a little while, until he walked back to the bank and set up an account.

But as the dealer counted out the money for him, Harry could sense other plans were being set in motion. His Foe-detection spell had been buzzing softly since the dealer had offered him the money. He could sense untrustworthiness coming from the dealer, but there was a hot spot near the back of the store as well, where had seen the other man watching him. The two men had something unsavory planned for him. Too bad they didn't realize they were dealing with a wizard.

The deal was done — Harry had his briefcase full of money and the dealer had his 7980 grams of gold. "Thanks for your business," the guy said, shaking Harry's hand. "You better get that to a bank fast," he added.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "I'm taking it to the bank in this building."

"Really?" The dealer leaned forward conspiratorially. "I can let you go out the back way. You can walk right into the bank from there."

"That sounds great," Harry agreed, knowing the guy was lying to him. He hardly even needed his Foe-detection spells to tell — the guy fairly reeked of dishonesty. "I really appreciate it."

"Right this way." The dealer led him to the back of the store, past some counters, and to a door that opened to a long corridor. "Just go down the hallway until you see the exit. Go out there, take a right, and you'll see the entrance to the bank."

"Thanks again," Harry said. He even waved to the guy as he left. Walking down the corridor, he considered what he should do with the dealer after he'd dealt with this situation. The Supersensory charm let him "see" through the walls ahead of him, showing him the weedy-looking guy he'd seen watching him from the back of the store.

The door at the far end of the corridor had a red EXIT sign over it. Harry pushed the bar across the door. It opened, not into the street like the dealer had implied, but into an alleyway. When Harry turned to the right, he saw it was a dead end.

"I'll take that case," a voice behind him growled, and Harry heard the sound of a knife sliding out of its sheath. When he turned around, the weedy-looking guy had the knife pointed at him and his free hand extended. "Hand it over," he said, gesturing impatiently.

"If you walk away right now," Harry said calmly. "We'll pretend this never happened."

The guy looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are you stupid?" he snorted. "I've got a knife here!"

"I see it," Harry said. "It's not very impressive."

"You might think different once I stick it in you a few times," the guy snarled. "Now hand over that case, asshole, before I cut you."

"Right," Harry said. At this range, against a Muggle, he didn't even need to use his wand. A quick gesture of his free hand and the guy's knife suddenly flew into the air. Harry let it fall to the ground behind him.

"What the hell?" the guy stared at his hand in shock. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing, compared to what I'm going to do if you don't piss off right now," Harry said. With another gesture he hit the guy with an Impediment Jinx, knocking him back a foot or so. "Go on, take off," Harry said again.

Without a weapon, not understanding how Harry could be pushing him from five feet away, the guy did the only thing he could think of doing. He ran. In a few seconds he was out the mouth of the alley and out of sight. Harry stared after him for a few seconds, then Disapparated with a soft pop.

He appeared a moment later behind the door that led back into the gold and silver store, then walked through it and back up to the counter. He rapped softly on it for service. "Just a second," the dealer's voice said from the office. "What can I do for —" the man stopped as he saw Harry. "Oh. Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I forgot to tell you it was a stupid idea to try and rob me."

"What — what the hell are you saying?" the dealer tried to bluster. "I never did anything of the sort —"

"Shut it," Harry said. The man stopped talking, still looking angry. "Some moron just tried to knife me in the alley behind this place, where you sent me. You can deny any involvement all you want, but I know you were in on it."

"You can't prove anything," the dealer sneered.

"Really?" Harry sneered back. "I will, in fact, in three, two, one…"

At that moment the weedy guy burst through the front doors. "Boss! Boss! That guy got awaaaaay…" He stopped when he saw Harry and the briefcase. "Uh. Oh. Oh shit!" He turned and ran out the door again.

"See?" Harry said.

"Doesn't prove anything," the dealer said, but he was sweating now, and not just from the August heat. "Better just forget about it, man. Forget it happened."

"That's a good idea," Harry said. He pointed his wand at the dealer. "Obliviate!"

The dealer took a step back, like he'd been slapped. His face went slack for a moment, as if he was about to fall asleep, but then a dreamy, unconcerned smile spread across his face. "Thank you for doing business at Gold and Silver Exchange," he said pleasantly. "Please come again."

"Thank you," Harry said, putting his wand away and walking out the front door. Too bad a Memory Charm couldn't make the man a better person, but at least he wouldn't remember exactly how he obtained Harry's gold, only that he'd bought it, and would remember nothing about sending someone to try and steal the money back. The weedy guy, on the other hand, would remember, and might think twice before trying to hurt someone again. At least Harry hoped so; he wanted to see that guy again someday.

Back at the bank, the manager was much more agreeable about setting up accounts for Harry now that he had Muggle cash in hand. Harry detected no real untrustworthiness in the man, indicating he hadn't been in on the dealer's plan. They set up a checking account, including a debit card Harry could use instead of writing checks. Harry had them put several thousand dollars in that account, so he wouldn't have to bother coming in to put more money into the account very soon. At Gringotts, if you needed to move money from one vault to another, the goblins would do it for you, but at a cost of about one-tenth of a percent of the amount moved. Here money could be moved at no charge, which Harry thought was pretty accommodating of the bank.

The manager also tried to talk him into buying something called certificates of deposit; he talked about them being "FDIC insured," or something like that, but when he mentioned the money had to be left in the CD for at least three months, Harry balked, opting to put the balance in a savings account instead. The rate there, the manager had said, was only 0.9 percent, but that was more than Gringotts had ever offered! In the wizarding world, if you wanted your savings to make money, you had to loan it out to someone and hope they wouldn't default on the loan. While wealthy and influential men like Lucius and Draco Malfoy could make sure their loans were repaid, one way or another, an Auror like Harry had little legal recourse if someone refused to repay their debt short of having them thrown into Azkaban, so Harry preferred not to loan out his money at all.

But with over $400,000 in savings, even 0.9 percent would accumulate a healthy amount of interest. He should be set for some time now without having to worry about money. Harry thanked the manager and his assistants and left the bank.

Outside, he looked at the streets and sidewalks, filled with cars and people, and wondered if he'd made the right choice in leaving Britain. London could be just as busy as Metropolis, just as fast-paced, but for the most part Harry didn't have to deal with the hustle and bustle of city life when he wasn't working. Now that he was unemployed, everything seemed to be going at breakneck speed around him.

Maybe Smallville would be more his speed now that he was "retired" from the wizarding world. If Lois Lane and her fiancé were going to live in Metropolis like she'd told him, he probably wouldn't see much of them. He'd had enough nosy reporters in his life in the past 20 years! Well, there was no use standing around thinking about it when he could go see for himself. Fortunately, the picture on Clark Kent's desk had given him a destination he could visualize and aim for. Harry quietly cast an Ignore-Me Charm on himself, so no one would notice him vanish into thin air, then Disapparated out of Metropolis.

=ooo=ooo=

A/N: This story begins with a nod to Apocalypse Thou and his story "Harry Potter and the Ascension of Ra," a Harry Potter/Smallville crossover. I've done "Harry Potter Returns," a Harry/Superman Returns crossover and had a good run with that, and I've wanted to have Harry meet Clark and his Smallville buddies. Alas, since Smallville ended in 2011 I've been working on other HP projects. Now I'm going to present my own version of when Harry met Clark. This story begins at the end of the Smallville series, so it starts about the middle of August 2011. There is a Smallville Season 11 comic series but the events in this story won't coincide with that story. I still have at least one or two more chapters to do on my Harry Potter/Rifleman crossover, "The Rifle and the Wand," and there may be another story I'll begin as well, not sure which one to go with first. If I published all the stories I have at least one chapter written on, I'd have five or six running concurrently. That's a bit much to tackle!

I hope you enjoy this story as it progresses, and please review whenever you can!