The journey across America had taken nearly a week.
The final leg of the journey had been the longest.
After arriving in North Dakota, Harry had rented an old pickup truck that looked as though it had seen decades of hard work. It rattled over every bump in the road, complained whenever they climbed a hill, and growled loudly enough that Harry had wondered several times whether it would survive the trip.
Fortunately, it had.
Now, after hours of driving along lonely country roads, they finally reached their destination.
Harry climbed out of the truck and stretched his stiff muscles before walking a few steps away from the vehicle. A cool breeze immediately greeted him, carrying with it the fresh scent of grass, wildflowers, and pine. It was clean—far cleaner than the air in New York—and so refreshing that he instinctively took a deep breath.
Then he looked up.
For several long moments, he simply stood there.
The land spread before him like something lifted from a painting.
Rolling fields of vibrant green stretched across the countryside, their tall grass swaying gently beneath the afternoon wind like waves upon a vast emerald sea. Forests bordered much of the property, towering pines standing proudly beside sturdy oaks whose broad branches cast long shadows over the earth. Here and there, patches of colorful wildflowers dotted the landscape, adding splashes of yellow, white, and violet to the endless sea of green.
A crystal-clear stream meandered lazily through the center of the property, reflecting the sunlight like a ribbon of polished silver before disappearing into the forest beyond. Gentle hills rose in the distance, untouched by roads, fences, or signs of civilization.
It was quiet.
Wonderfully quiet.
No traffic.
No shouting crowds.
Only the whisper of the wind moving through the trees, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.
A small herd of deer grazed peacefully near the edge of the forest. One of them lifted its head, studying the newcomers with cautious curiosity before deciding they posed no threat and returning to its meal.
Far above, several hawks circled lazily through the endless blue sky.
Harry slowly turned in a complete circle.
Every direction revealed another breathtaking view.
He released a slow breath, only then realizing he had been holding it.
"...It's beautiful."
Beside him, Gambit folded his arms with a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
"Remy told you."
Harry laughed quietly, unable to disagree.
"You did."
His eyes wandered back toward the distant hills.
"But hearing about it..."
He gestured broadly toward the landscape surrounding them.
"...and actually standing here are two completely different things."
Gambit's grin widened.
"I don't make promises he can't keep."
Harry simply nodded.
He barely heard the words.
His imagination had already begun to transform the empty landscape before him.
He could picture houses nestled beside the stream. Fields filled with crops stretching across the fertile plains. Workshops humming with activity. Children laughing as they ran through the grass without fear. Mutants who had spent their entire lives hiding finally living openly, surrounded by people who are just like them or who accepted them for who they were.
A home.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts.
The real estate agent walked toward them, carrying several leather folders beneath one arm. He was a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with weathered skin, sturdy work boots, and a wide-brimmed hat that had clearly spent more time beneath the sun than hanging on a coat rack. His firm handshake and easy smile spoke of someone who preferred honest work over polished offices.
"So, gentlemen," he said cheerfully, adjusting his hat as he stopped beside them, "what do you think?"
Harry looked across the property one final time.
His gaze followed the winding stream before drifting toward the forests. Beyond them lay the broad meadow near the center of the ranch, and farther still, the distant hills faded into the horizon beneath the afternoon sunlight.
A quiet smile spread across his face.
"I'll take it."
The agent chuckled as though he'd expected that answer from the beginning.
"I had a feeling you would."
He opened one of the folders and withdrew several neatly organized documents.
"Then let's make it official."
The paperwork turned out to be astonishingly simple.
Harry had prepared himself for lengthy negotiations, unexpected complications, and perhaps even lawyers arguing over obscure legal details.
None of that happened.
The owner had been trying to sell the ranch for nearly two years. Fifteen thousand acres of land sounded attractive on paper, but very few buyers were willing—or financially able—to maintain such an enormous property. Taxes, upkeep, and distance from nearby towns had scared away almost everyone who had shown interest.
Harry's offer solved every one of those problems.
Half an hour later, they found themselves inside the modest office attached to the ranch headquarters several miles away.
The building itself was simple but comfortable. Sunlight streamed through large windows overlooking the nearby fields, while the faint scent of aged wood and freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, doing its best to chase away the summer warmth.
One document after another slid across the polished wooden desk.
Harry read every page carefully before signing.
His identification listed him as Harry Evans.
The forged documents were flawless.
Months of careful preparation had gone into creating his new identity the moment he arrived in America. Bank accounts had been established, taxes arranged, supporting records created, and every piece of paperwork had been crafted to withstand even the closest scrutiny.
Nothing connected Harry Evans to Harry Potter.
That was exactly how it needed to be.
The final document arrived.
Harry uncapped the fountain pen, paused for only a heartbeat, and neatly signed his name one last time.
Harry Evans.
The agent collected the papers, carefully comparing every signature before placing them back inside the folder.
After a moment, he smiled broadly and stood.
"Congratulations, Mr. Evans."
He extended his hand.
Harry rose from his chair and accepted it.
"You are now the legal owner of approximately fifteen thousand acres of land."
Even hearing the number spoken aloud felt surreal.
Fifteen thousand acres.
Enough land to build several villages.
Enough farmland to feed thousands of people.
Enough forests to provide timber for generations.
Enough room that no one would ever have to worry about running out of space again.
A slow smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you."
The agent laughed warmly.
"I hope you enjoy your ranch."
Harry glanced out the office window. The afternoon sun bathed the distant hills in warm golden light, and for just a moment, he imagined what this place could become in the years ahead.
A thriving community.
A future built by people who had never before been given the chance to belong.
His smile widened.
"Oh..."
"I think I will."
The drive back to the property was a quiet one.
The old pickup truck rumbled along the dusty road at an unhurried pace, its engine growling softly as it bounced over uneven ground. Neither Harry nor Gambit felt any need to fill the silence.
Sometimes, simply enjoying the view was enough.
When they finally reached the hill overlooking the heart of the property once again, the real estate agent pulled the truck to a stop.
He climbed out, carrying the leather folder beneath one arm.
"Well," he said with a friendly smile, "this is where we part ways."
Harry stepped out of the pickup as well.
The afternoon sun hung lower in the sky now, bathing the fields in warm golden light. The breeze had grown cooler, carrying the scent of pine and fresh grass across the open land.
The agent handed him the folder.
"Everything's in there. Deed, survey maps, tax records, boundary information, water rights, and the rest of the paperwork."
Harry accepted it carefully.
"Thank you."
The man smiled.
"I've sold a lot of ranches over the years."
He glanced around at the endless fields.
"But I'll admit..."
"You look happier than most buyers."
Harry couldn't help smiling.
"I suppose I am."
The older man chuckled.
"Take good care of the place."
"I intend to."
After one final handshake with both Harry and Gambit, the man climbed back into his truck.
The engine roared to life.
A cloud of dust rose behind the vehicle as it slowly disappeared down the winding dirt road until, eventually, it vanished beyond one of the distant hills.
The only sounds left were the whisper of the wind through the tall grass and the distant cries of birds circling overhead.
Harry remained exactly where he was, the leather folder resting in his hands.
For several minutes, he simply stared at it.
Gambit leaned casually against the rented pickup, watching him with an amused expression.
"So..."
Harry looked up.
"So?"
Gambit nodded toward the folder.
"How's it feel?"
Harry looked down at the documents once more.
He ran his thumb lightly across the edge of the folder before finally speaking.
"...Different."
Gambit raised an eyebrow.
"Different?"
Harry leaned against the side of the truck, his eyes drifting back toward the endless landscape spread before them.
"I never bought Bannerman Island."
"There wasn't anyone there to sell it."
He smiled faintly as memories surfaced.
"When we first arrived, it was nothing more than ruins. Broken walls, collapsed towers, and years of neglect."
"We cleared away the rubble."
"We repaired the castle."
"We rebuilt the docks."
"We restored everything that could be restored."
His smile softened.
"Then I hid the entire island behind magical wards."
Gambit nodded.
"Dat's true."
Harry shrugged.
"I claimed it."
"But legally..."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"It was never mine."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Harry lowered his eyes to the folder once again.
"This..."
He lifted it slightly.
"This is different."
His voice had grown noticeably quieter.
"This is mine."
The words felt strangely heavy.
For as long as he could remember, Harry had lived in places that belonged to someone else.
Privet Drive had never been his home.
It had belonged to the Dursleys.
He had merely occupied a cupboard beneath the stairs because they had been forced to take him in.
Even after moving into a bedroom, he had never truly belonged there.
Hogwarts had become the closest thing to a home he had ever known.
Its moving staircases, ancient stone corridors, enchanted ceiling, and familiar faces had given him something he had never experienced growing up.
A place where he wanted to return.
A place filled with memories.
But Hogwarts belonged to all students.
Not just him.
Twelve Grimmauld Place had belonged to Sirius.
The Burrow belonged to the Weasleys.
He had spent his entire life moving from one place to another.
Never planting roots.
Until now.
Harry hadn't realized he was smiling until Gambit spoke again.
"Already planning the future?"
Harry laughed quietly.
"Is it that obvious?"
Gambit grinned.
"You got dat look."
"What look?"
"The one where you disappear inside your own head."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"I do that?"
"All de time."
Harry couldn't argue with that.
"We'll have to bring in construction equipment, building materials, farming equipment..."
He stopped himself and laughed.
"I've already started making a list."
Gambit shook his head with a chuckle.
"You never do t'ings halfway."
Harry smiled.
"I don't think this is something that can be done halfway."
"It isn't just for me."
He looked down at the folder once again.
"It's for everyone."
Now that the purchase of the land was complete, Harry threw himself entirely into the project that had occupied his thoughts ever since Gambit first called him.
The portal.
Everything else could wait.
Without a reliable connection to Bannerman Island, this place would remain nothing more than an isolated piece of land in the middle of South Dakota.
Harry wanted it to become the future home of mutantkind.
For that, the portal had to work.
Every morning, Harry woke before sunrise, ate a quick breakfast inside his tent, and immediately walked toward the clearing in the center of the property.
The stone arch was already beginning to take shape. Every piece of the structure consisted of specially enchanted ward stones.
Each one had taken Harry several hours to prepare.
Each stone had dozens of ancient runes carefully engraved into its surface.
Some stabilized magical energy.
Others anchored space itself.
Several existed solely to prevent the portal from collapsing if too much power flowed through it at once.
Harry had filled an entire notebook with calculations.
Runic circles.
Ancient arithmancy formulas.
Even sketches showing where every single ward stone should be placed.
He had long since stopped trusting his memory.
One mistake could destroy weeks of work.
As the first layer of the arch rose from the ground, Harry carefully lowered another ward stone into place.
He rested his wand against it.
"Adhaereo."
The stone shimmered briefly before locking itself into the structure.
Harry smiled faintly.
One more completed.
Unfortunately...
The next one exploded.
A small crack appeared in one side of the unfinished arch.
Harry stared at the damage for several seconds.
Then calmly reached for his notebook.
He didn't curse.
Instead, he quietly wrote.
Stone Twenty-Seven.
Runic flow unstable.
Energy accumulation exceeded acceptable threshold.
After finishing his notes, Harry closed the notebook.
"Let's try again."
The damaged stone was removed.
A new one took its place.
Hours later...
That one worked perfectly.
By afternoon, Gambit returned from the nearest town driving the pickup truck loaded with fresh supplies.
He climbed down and looked toward the clearing.
Harry hadn't moved very far since morning.
"You skipped lunch."
Harry looked up.
"I wasn't hungry."
"You say that every day."
Harry shrugged.
"I'm close."
"You've been close for four days."
Harry laughed quietly.
"That's how research works."
Gambit handed him a sandwich.
Harry accepted it gratefully.
"Thanks."
The two sat beneath a nearby tree overlooking the unfinished structure.
For a while, neither spoke.
Finally Gambit broke the silence.
"You know..."
Harry looked over.
"I think you like building things."
Harry blinked.
"What?"
"I've seen you fighting."
"I've seen you rescuing people."
"But this..."
Gambit pointed toward the portal.
"...this is different."
Harry followed his gaze.
The unfinished arch stood proudly in the middle of the clearing.
"I suppose."
"You smile more."
Harry looked genuinely surprised.
"Do I?"
"You don't even notice."
Gambit chuckled.
"When you're making something..."
"...you look peaceful."
Harry remained quiet.
One evening, after another long day of work, Gambit entered the tent carrying a folded road map.
"I think it's time."
Harry looked up from another page of calculations.
"Time for what?"
"I'm heading back."
Harry closed the notebook.
"So soon?"
Gambit nodded.
"You don't need me here."
Harry frowned.
"I always need another pair of hands."
Gambit laughed.
"You don't use my hands."
Harry smiled sheepishly.
"...That's true."
"If you need anything..."
"I can always come back."
Harry looked toward the pickup truck parked outside.
"I appreciate everything."
Gambit waved dismissively.
The next morning, Gambit loaded the last of his belongings into the truck.
Harry walked beside him.
"What about getting back to Bannerman?"
"Don't worry."
"Pretty sure Fawkes knows where to find me by now."
The truck engine started.
Gambit leaned out the window.
"Don't stay awake every night."
Harry gave him an innocent look.
"I won't."
Gambit stared at him.
"...Liar."
Harry couldn't help laughing.
"I'll try."
With one final wave, Gambit drove away down the long dirt road until the truck disappeared beyond the rolling hills.
Silence settled across the property once more.
Fifteen thousand acres.
Only the wind moving through the tall grass.
He took a deep breath.
Then turned back toward the unfinished portal.
There was still much to do.