Zatara Penthouse - One Week Later
Harry was helping Zatanna organize her collection of stage magic props—apparently a weekly ritual that involved cataloguing everything from silk scarves to what appeared to be a genuine crystal ball—when the doorbell rang again.
"That'll be Serena," Zatanna said, immediately abandoning the props to bounce toward the door. "She said she was bringing someone for you to meet."
"Another friend?" Harry asked, carefully setting down what looked like a deck of cards that were definitely not ordinary playing cards.
"Sort of. Nathan Wesley—he's eight, really smart, and Serena's been tutoring him in advanced magical theory." Zatanna paused at the door. "Fair warning: he asks a lot of questions. Like, a lot. Serena says he's worse than a magical investigator when he gets curious about something."
The door opened to reveal Serena looking slightly frazzled, followed by a boy who was indeed clearly younger than Harry and Zatanna. Nathan Wesley had sandy brown red hair that stuck up at odd angles despite obvious attempts to tame it, bright hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and was carrying what appeared to be a notebook and at least three different books.
"Sorry we're late," Serena said, steering Nathan into the apartment. "Someone decided he needed to finish reading an entire chapter on Foundations of Warding and Protective Enchantments before we left."
"It was important," Nathan said seriously, then looked around the apartment with obvious interest. "Wow. The ward structure here is incredible. I can feel at least seven different layers of protection magic, and that's just from standing in the entryway."
Zatanna blinked. "You can sense ward structures?"
"Nathan's got unusual magical sensitivity," Serena explained with obvious pride. "Plus he's been studying magical theory since he was six. Kid reads advanced textbooks for fun."
"Because they're interesting," Nathan said, as if this were perfectly obvious. "And you must be Harry Potter." He fixed Harry with an intense stare that was surprisingly mature for an eight-year-old. "Are you the Harry Potter? The one who survived You-Know-Who?"
Harry felt his stomach drop and unconsciously stepped back.
"I... yes," Harry said quietly, watching Nathan's face for the usual mix of awe, fear, or excessive interest that mention of his fame usually brought.
Instead, Nathan just nodded thoughtfully. "That explains why you're here instead of back in Britain. Makes sense, really. If I'd lived through something like that… with a dark wizard after me… I'd want to be as far away as possible too."
He caught the flicker in Harry's expression and hesitated. "Sorry. I guess you don't like talking about it."
"Not particularly," Harry admitted, surprised by the boy's casual acceptance.
"Right then," Nathan said briskly, apparently deciding to change the subject. "Serena told me your guardian is John Constantine. That's brilliant! I've read about some of his cases in the International Journal of Applied Supernatural Studies. Is it true he once banished an entire demonic hierarchy using nothing but a pack of cigarettes and a tube map?"
Harry found himself relaxing despite himself. Nathan's enthusiasm was infectious, and his immediate shift away from Harry's fame to more interesting topics was exactly what he'd needed.
"Not exactly," Harry said with a grin. "Though he did once use a cigarette lighter to disrupt a summoning circle in Manchester. But that's not even close to the most impressive thing I've seen him do."
"Really?" Nathan's eyes lit up with curiosity. "What kind of cases have you worked on with him?"
"Well," Harry said, settling into one of the comfortable chairs as the others gathered around, "there was this case in Mexico where we had to deal with an ancient rain god who was drowning people in their sleep..."
For the next hour, Harry found himself recounting their adventures—the grieving god in Oaxaca, the Nazi soul-magic labyrinth in Buenos Aires, and the undead Sorcerer-King in Indonesia. Nathan listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking extremely perceptive questions about magical theory and technique.
"So you actually created a Light-Garuda?" Nathan asked, his voice filled with admiration. "Using transformed dark energy? That's... that's impossible according to most theoretical frameworks."
"John says I don't think about magic the right way," Harry said with a shrug. "I just think about what needs to happen and make it happen."
"That's intuitive casting at a level most adult wizards never achieve," Serena said, looking impressed. "No wonder Constantine took you as an apprentice."
"The Indonesia case sounds amazing," Zatanna added. "What was the food like there? I've heard Indonesian cuisine is supposed to be incredible."
Harry's face immediately lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, it was brilliant! We had this dish called nasi gudeg—it's rice with young jackfruit curry, and it's sweet and savory at the same time. And rendang! It's this slow-cooked beef in coconut milk and spices that's so tender it falls apart when you look at it."
He was gesturing animatedly now, lost in the memory. "And the sambal—that's this chili sauce that they put on everything. There are dozens of different kinds, some sweet, some spicy enough to make your eyes water. And the satay! Little skewers of meat grilled over charcoal with peanut sauce..."
"Harry," Serena said with amusement, "you're making us all hungry."
"Sorry," Harry said, slightly embarrassed. "It's just... the food there was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Even John, who usually lives on cigarettes and whatever's closest to hand, was impressed."
"Indonesia is on my list of places to visit someday," Zatanna said thoughtfully. "Though I was thinking more about the temples and traditional magic."
"The magical traditions are fascinating too," Harry said eagerly. "Cascade—that's the environmental activist we worked with—she showed us some of the local water magic techniques. And Gatotkaca had this connection to ancient Javanese power sources that was incredible to watch."
Nathan was taking notes in his ever-present notebook. "Did you notice any significant differences between Indonesian magical theory and British or American approaches?"
"Completely different philosophy," Harry said, settling into what was clearly becoming a favorite topic. "British magic is all about precision and control, American magic seems to focus on adaptability and innovation, but Indonesian magic is about harmony and balance. They don't try to dominate magical forces—they work with them."
"That's a really sophisticated analysis," Serena said with surprise. "Most people don't pick up on those kinds of cultural differences in magical philosophy."
"I have a teacher that's good at explaining context," Harry said. "He says understanding why different cultures approach magic differently is just as important as learning the techniques themselves."
"Speaking of different cultures," Nathan said with obvious enthusiasm, "Serena told me about the British Malfoy and Potter families. Is it true that American magical society is really that much more accepting than British?"
"From what I've seen so far, yeah," Harry said. "Though I've only been here a couple of weeks. But just listening to Serena talk about her family's history... it's like a completely different world from what I grew up learning about British magical politics."
"It is a different world," Serena confirmed. "My family's had correspondence with some of the other American magical families who originally came from Britain, and the stories they tell..." She shook her head. "The American Wesleys, for instance. Nathan's great-grandfather emigrated here in the 1920s after the British magical government tried to force all the 'blood traitor' families to register their political affiliations."
Nathan's expression grew serious. "My great-grandfather, Reginald Wesley, he was the third son, not the heir, but he still managed to build a shop of his own to make a living. He said the Ministry wanted to create a list of families they considered 'ideologically unreliable' because they supported Muggle-born rights. When he refused to sign, they threatened to strip the family of all their magical business licenses."
"So he left?" Harry asked, fascinated by yet another story of British magical refugees.
"Packed up the whole family and sailed to New York," Nathan confirmed. "Started over with nothing but their knowledge of magical innovation and a determination to build something better."
"Do the American Wesleys stay in touch with the British branch?" Zatanna asked.
Nathan and Serena exchanged glances. "Not really," Nathan said carefully. "There was... an incident in the 1960s. The British Wesleys wrote asking for financial support during a particularly difficult time, and when the American branch offered to help any family members who wanted to emigrate instead..."
"The British Wesleys took it as an insult," Serena finished. "Like the Americans were saying Britain wasn't good enough for them. The correspondence stopped after that, and neither side has made an effort to reconnect."
"That's sad," Harry said thoughtfully. "Family shouldn't be split up by politics."
"No, it shouldn't," Nathan agreed. "But sometimes people make choices that seem right at the time and then become too proud to admit when they were wrong."
They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, each thinking about the various ways families could be divided by circumstances beyond their control.
"Right then," Zatanna said, apparently deciding they'd had enough heavy conversation for one afternoon. "Who wants to help me test this new card trick Dad taught me? Fair warning: it involves actual magic, not just sleight of hand."
"I'll help," Nathan said immediately, his earlier seriousness replaced by curiosity. "What kind of magical theory does it use?"
"The kind where you make cards do things that shouldn't be physically possible," Zatanna said with a grin. "Dad calls it 'applied impossibility.'"
As Zatanna began setting up her trick, Serena moved closer to Harry. "You know," she said quietly, "you should definitely come to one of our study sessions sometime. Nathan and I meet twice a week to work on advanced magical theory, and I think you'd find it interesting."
"Really?" Harry asked, pleased by the invitation.
"Really. Nathan's brilliant at theoretical analysis, and you've got practical experience with magic most of us will never see. Plus," she added with a grin, "we could use someone who can explain Constantine's case studies from a firsthand perspective."
"That sounds brilliant," Harry said. "Though fair warning: some of John's techniques are... unorthodox."
"Unorthodox is just another word for innovative," Nathan said, overhearing them. "And judging by your stories, Constantine's innovations tend to save lives."
"That they do," Harry agreed, feeling a familiar pang of missing his guardian. But it was softer now, tempered by the growing friendships and sense of belonging he was finding in America.
"Harry," Zatanna called from where she was shuffling her magical cards, "you're going to love this trick. It involves making the cards tell stories about whoever's holding them."
"Stories?" Harry asked, moving closer.
"Magical stories," she said with obvious pride. "The cards read your magical signature and create little narratives about your adventures. Want to try?"
Harry looked at the deck of cards, then at his three new friends—Serena with her fierce pride in her family's choices, Nathan with his insatiable curiosity about how magic worked, and Zatanna with her joy in sharing the wonder of what they could do.
"Yeah," he said, accepting the cards with a smile. "I'd like that."
As the cards began to glow softly in his hands, forming tiny moving pictures that showed a small boy learning magic from a gruff man in a trench coat, Harry reflected that John had been right about one thing: he was definitely not going to be bored in America.
And if these friendships were any indication, he was going to learn things about magic, family, and himself that would have been impossible to discover anywhere else.
"Bloody hell," he breathed as the cards showed him facing down the Light-Garuda in the Indonesian volcano. "That actually happened."
"Language," all three of his friends said in unison, then burst into laughter.
Harry grinned and decided that being temporarily exiled to a country full of brilliant, welcoming, slightly mad magical children was turning out better than he could have possibly hoped.
Even if they were apparently going to spend the rest of the afternoon planning a theoretical trip to Indonesia just to try the food.
Some things, Harry thought as he watched Nathan take detailed notes about Indonesian magical cuisine, were definitely worth looking forward to.
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