Harry's aunt and uncle had finally relented.
After discussing it, Petunia and Vernon packed a suitcase for Harry, then reluctantly handed him a bank card with sour expressions before promptly throwing him out of the house without a second thought.
"Oh."
Goodness.
Harry stood at the front door, staring at Number Four, Privet Drive, with a speechless look on his face.
This was truly *go for a walk*.
Might as well just wander around slowly.
Wherever he ended up, he ended up.
Harry scratched his messy hair, catching sight of a few cats perched on a nearby wall, tilting their heads to look at him out of the corner of his eye.
He remembered that Mrs. Figg lived there.
Harry noticed the magic in that house and frowned slowly: was she a witch?
No, that cluster of magic, though noticeable, wasn't flowing… was she a witch who couldn't use magic?
Harry hesitated for a moment, his instincts telling him this dubious old woman wasn't as simple as she appeared.
Having been saved by his instincts many times before, Harry slowly backed away: he felt he couldn't leave Little Whinging openly right under her nose.
At the very least, he couldn't let anyone think his departure was connected to his aunt and uncle, and he couldn't bring trouble to their family.
Magic gathered at Harry's fingertips as he traced a unique magical rune of his own design in the air, storing the suitcase Aunt Petunia had packed into his personal space.
Harry took a few steps forward with his hands in his pockets, suppressing the searing pain in his body as he channeled his magic to discreetly trace a formation in the air that enabled non-directional spatial transfer.
Then he stepped right into it.
Where he ended up depended on his luck; he'd live if he could, and die if he couldn't.
Harry felt himself falling.
Then, with a "thump," he landed.
"Huh?"
Harry, who had braced himself for a brief loss of his rear end, stared in shock as he pressed the ground beneath him.
It didn't hurt; it was soft?
"Grrr ruff!"
He heard a growl laced with suppressed anger.
Harry slowly looked down and met the eyes of a scrawny, mangy stray dog.
The large dog bared its teeth, its eyes gleaming with menace, then it opened its mouth wide: "Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff!!"
Harry rolled aside, jumped three feet in the air, and bolted.
As he ran, he pulled a handful of napkins from his pocket to cover his mouth while coughing up blood frantically.
The poor stray, nearly flattened into a dog pancake, scrambled to its feet and chased after him with all its might.
"Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff!!"
As he sprinted, Harry felt like his internal organs were about to burst, but he didn't dare stop; dying from a dog bite in full public view would be utterly undignified.
He needed a chance… he needed an opportunity…
Passersby on the street looked on in bewilderment as the boy and dog shot past, instinctively moving out of the way.
As Harry ran past a shopping mall, its billboard gave a loud "creak" and began to wobble precariously.
Just as the stray dog reached the spot beneath the billboard, it crashed down with a bang, nearly crushing the vicious animal to death as it fell unconscious.
"Phew—" Harry ducked into a small alley and let out a sigh of relief.
He pulled out more napkins and got back to seriously coughing up blood.
Between the frantic running and using magic again, Harry felt about eighty percent dead himself.
He slumped to the ground, trying to steady the searing pain that made stars dance before his eyes.
Once the pain subsided slightly, Harry mustered his energy to examine his unique magical rune.
He had been in a rush when storing the suitcase, and the feel of it had been off, but he hadn't had time to check.
He wondered what had changed with his rune; surely it hadn't been magically altered in this world.
As Harry thought this, he stuck his head into a door that suddenly appeared, and then he froze.
Huh?
His inventory was all there!
Harry's eyes gleamed with excitement: he had thought his rune might have run into some compatibility issues in this world, but it was simply overflowing.
He stepped inside, first pulling out his suitcase and tossing it aside, then began rummaging through his supplies.
Carrot bombs, bird bombs, glass bombs, flash bombs… along with various firearms and ammunition, plus some magical devices.
He crammed everything into the suitcase.
Harry found the potions he had haphazardly tossed in, but none of the varieties he needed right now.
He had never imagined he would need a physique-enhancing potion before.
The materials he had collected were all for making restricted potions.
Finally, Harry covered the suitcase with a barrier-type magical device, closed the shimmering door in front of him, and walked out pushing the suitcase.
Before him, a striking blend of history and modernity greeted his eyes.
Baroque-style buildings, roadside cafes, and inviting dessert shops stood scattered around.
Harry could see a street musician playing the violin, the music drifting through the air.
In the distance stood a church, its ancient spire just visible from Harry's vantage point.
This was Munich, Germany, a city both quaint and modern.
The next second, Harry quickly retreated back into the alley.
What on earth? Why were there so many witches and wizards here?
He carefully cast a confusion charm on his face, but no matter how cautious he was, he still had to pull out napkins to cough up blood.
Harry numbly cleaned himself up.
Only then did he calmly pull his luggage out and continue on.
Harry held a gold pocket watch; it was currently 3:32 in the afternoon, but oddly, the watch, which clearly looked expensive, displayed 11:21.
The longer minute hand pointed between the Roman numerals IV and V, while the shorter hour hand rested between XI and XII.
Harry turned around on the spot, and the hour and minute hands turned accordingly.
After a moment, Harry looked up in the direction the hour hand indicated, snapped the watch cover shut with a click, tucked it into his pocket, and said, almost to himself, "Let's go take a look over there."
The pocket watch, engraved with a luck array, always showed the holder the luckiest time and direction with its hour and minute hands.
Although it was a failed experiment from Harry's early apprenticeship, it was also a creation his mentor had praised endlessly.
Because it had a severe side effect.
The side effect was that your fortune was perfectly balanced by equal misfortune.
Once, his senior had used it to locate a sunken ship laden with treasure, but no sooner had he sent word back than he was hunted by a school of sharks.
They chased him from the seabed all the way to the shoreline, and when his senior finally crawled ashore gasping for breath, he turned back to find, to his horror, that these were not just predators of the animal kingdom, but magical creatures as well.
Because they had grown legs and climbed ashore after him.
If Harry hadn't been so uncertain about his first creation that he had followed his senior's trail and arrived just in time, the consequences were easy to imagine.
Since then, Harry had never let anyone else use that device.
Though it was true that trading luck for luck was fair, and equivalent exchange was the most basic, essential rule of alchemy.
But that didn't align with Harry's expectations.
So… nothing would go wrong, right?
Harry wasn't quite sure.
---