Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

Harry James Potter stepped out of the tunnel and immediately to the side. Around him, the passengers that had travelled with him from Lima continued on, either in search of their baggage or to connecting flights or even in search of transportation from JFK International to New York proper.

After travelling for so long and so far, Harry knew what to expect: the hordes of travellers would surge past, intent on their destinations and anyone who got in their way or impeded their progress was in for a jostled, uncomfortable time. More often than not before he'd learnt his lesson, Harry'd been bumped into walls, cut off from his own destination or lost. Once he'd been knocked completely to the ground, an experience that he never wanted repeated.

Once the way before him seemed to have settled down, he began making his way through the airport.

Passing through customs here had been a little more of an issue than it had been in almost any other country that he'd explored, and especially the South American ones that he'd been travelling through for nearly the past year. Only the fact that he'd had the foresight to cast notice-me-nots, muggle-repelling charms and disillusionments on the series of miniature trunks strapped to his belt had gotten them past the officials. Thankfully, he'd learnt early on to keep anything magical in the trunks, saving his muggle belongings - clothes, some books, toiletries and a few knickknacks - for his backpack.

Having the backpack as his only luggage was another blessing. No trips to baggage claim for him, not to mention the horror stories that he'd heard from people who had arrived in one country, only for their luggage to arrive in another.

He weaved his way through the crowd, past the duty-free shops, eateries and other businesses, intent on finding his way out of the airport. This was why he'd decided upon his next course of action - he was getting tired.

Five years.

Five years he'd been travelling the world – visiting communities, muggle and magical alike, learning the customs and seeing the sights. He'd picked up untold amounts of knowledge, both magical and muggle. And he'd become a bit of a pack-rat. Books, souvenirs, clothes, knickknacks and doodads of all variety and interest that he could find had found their way into one of his trunks.

Some things were incredibly useful, like the small silver stud that he now wore in his right ear. To anyone else, it was simply an earring. To him, it was a translation device. Using it, he could understand any language that he heard. He couldn't speak it, of course, but he could at least understand what was being said. It was an amazing find, one of many that he'd picked up in Japan. The only limitation that it seemed to have was the fact that it could only translate human languages - nothing of the goblin, merpeople, dwarf or any of the other magical people languages dotted about the world.

But after five years and four continents, he was ready to settle down, at least for a little while. And while the thought of going home to Britain had been mildly appealing, knowing that he had yet to explore and learn about North America had decided him on this course of action. Oh, there was also Australia, but he was in no rush to go there again - he had already spent quite some time there when he'd gone with Hermione to find her parents and return their memories to them.

So, when the time had come that he felt ready to move on from South America, or more precisely, Peru, he'd taken the very first plane that he could get to North America. To New York, to be precise.

Exactly what he was going to do there, he still hadn't quite decided. All that he had in mind was to find somewhere to settle, to use as a base as he explored the continent. And if it took him a little longer to explore said continent, with being based in one place, well, he could live with that.

The bright sunlight after being cooped up in a plane for nine hours, plus the time in the airport itself almost blinded him when he emerged from the heavily tinted glass doors. When he'd finally blinked the spots from his eyes, he looked around.

A long line of yellow taxi cabs sat waiting for passengers off to his left. In the distance, a slight haze in the air marked where the city was, not unlike what he'd experienced anytime that he'd first arrived in the more heavily populated cities of the world.

Hitching his backpack a little higher onto his shoulder, he headed towards the first cab in the rank.

"Where to, Boss?" the little driver of obvious Indian descent asked the instant that Harry'd shut the door to the cab.

"A hotel," Harry replied. "Something mid-range price-wise."

"Know just the place, Boss," the man said.

The car was put into drive and the cab took off in a rush into the swirl of traffic. The fact that the little man hadn't even bothered to look for on-coming traffic had Harry scrambling to find his seatbelt.