In My Way

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Getting up from the barstool, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a few knuts, placing them on the counter with a casual nod to the barmaid.

"I'll be off for now," he said, sliding the coins across the polished wood. "But I might be back in a few hours. If I head to the Ministry, can I use the Floo Network to return here?"

The barmaid smiled, pocketing the coins. "Of course, love. Just say 'The Three Broomsticks' when you step into the Floo. It'll bring you right back. Safe travels."

Thanking the barmaid, Harry took a handful of Floo Powder from the small pot near the fireplace. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed the powder into the flames, which flared up with a bright green glow. "Ministry of Magic," he said quietly, stepping into the swirling flames. A moment later, the familiar sensation of spinning filled his senses, and he disappeared from the Three Broomsticks.

When he stepped out of the fireplace at the Ministry, Harry was greeted by a familiar sight: a long line of wizards and witches waiting for identity checks. The bustling crowd didn't faze him. He had been to the Ministry enough times to know the drill. Silently, he reached into his robes and retrieved the wand he had acquired in Spain—a wand that housed a piece of Voldemort's soul as its core. 

As he approached the checkpoint, Harry's eyes scanned the room, taking in the security measures in place. The Ministry had ramped up security since the Azkaban breakout, and Harry knew that even the smallest anomaly could set off alarms. The purpose of this visit was simple: to test whether the dark magic within the wand would be detected. If the Ministry's workers sensed anything unusual, he would need to disappear—quickly. Although it sounded suicidal, it was nothing as drastic.

When his turn came, Harry stepped forward, handing over the wand with a calm expression. The Ministry worker, a bored-looking wizard with thinning hair, took the wand and began the usual checks. Harry watched closely, every muscle in his body ready to react if necessary. He saw the man's brow furrow slightly as he performed the scan, but after a moment, he handed the wand back without a word.

Harry accepted the wand, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It seemed the Ministry's security was as ineffective as ever. No alarms, no raised suspicions—he could continue using this identity without issue. Though, he expected as much. Even system didn't sense anything dark or 'wrong' with the wand.

"First time here?" The worker asked, his expression blank as he barely glanced up from the parchment in front of him. Harry could tell the man was running on autopilot, not really interested in anything beyond the routine.

"Yeah," Harry replied with a nod, keeping his tone neutral. "I'm from Spain."

The worker's quill hovered for a moment as he finally looked up, but only briefly. "No shit," he muttered. "I can still recognize the wand, mate. Third floor, and wrap up the paperwork since you didn't come through official channels."

Harry wasn't surprised by the lack of vigilance. It was baffling how lax the system could be, especially when so many wizards and witches chose alternative methods of travel of muggles when the distance was not far, bypassing what little security existed. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it; the Ministry's protocols were full of exploitable gaps, and it amazed him that they hadn't crumbled under their own incompetence yet.

Without another word, Harry made his way to the third floor, following the signs to the appropriate office. The corridor was as uninspired as the rest of the Ministry—a dull space lined with equally dull portraits, each of them asleep in their frames. The faint hum of magical activity could be felt beneath the floorboards, a reminder of the enchantments that kept the building functioning, though they seemed more concerned with convenience than security.

The clerk behind the desk was just as disinterested as the first one. Harry slid the required forms across the counter, watching as the clerk stamped them with the same lackluster enthusiasm. A few muttered spells later, and the process was complete. Harry tucked the documents into his robes and left, making sure to keep his expression neutral. He had to resist the urge to shake his head at the absurdity of it all.

As Harry exited the Ministry building, he paused for a moment, taking in the busy streets of London. The hustle and bustle outside was a sharp contrast to the inefficiency he'd just encountered within the Ministry. He let out a small sigh, noting the irony. This was the hub of the magical government, yet it felt like they were operating in a different era entirely.

He began walking toward the Leaky Cauldron, blending into the crowd with ease. As he neared the familiar pub, he didn't hesitate, slipping inside and heading straight for the entrance to Diagon Alley. He could have used Floo Powder to travel directly to Diagon Alley from the Three Broomsticks, but he had his reasons for taking this detour.

First, he needed to secure his credentials, which had proven to be as simple as he expected. Obtaining the necessary papers had been simple enough, and Harry had been certain that the Ministry's workers wouldn't question him too much. 

Secondly, he wanted to see if the piece of Voldemort's soul in his wand would trigger any alarms. It hadn't. The Ministry's security was laughably weak, barely noticing the magic embedded within the wand he carried. It was a test, and the Ministry had failed spectacularly. No one had even batted an eye.

Finally, he chose to Floo to the Ministry to establish his presence there. He knew that his appearance at the Three Broomsticks could raise suspicions if he immediately went somewhere else. Criminals wouldn't stroll into the Ministry willingly, especially not after a casual chat in a pub. By making a show of going to the Ministry, he created a trail that would seem perfectly innocent to anyone watching. He was consolidating his new identity, ensuring it would hold up under scrutiny. He might need to use that pub again, and maintaining his cover was crucial.

Once Harry stepped beyond the stone barriers of Diagon Alley, he found himself among the early risers of the wizarding world. Shopkeepers were busy preparing their stores, sweeping the steps, and flipping signs to "Open." A few witches and wizards were already browsing through the latest offerings, and the streets were slowly coming to life with the familiar bustle of commerce. But Harry wasn't interested in the awakening Diagon Alley. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and took a sharp turn into the shadowed alleys of Knockturn Alley.

Here, the atmosphere was different. While Diagon Alley was just waking up, Knockturn Alley was winding down. The shops had been open all night, catering to a different kind of clientele. The air was thick with the remnants of dark magic, and the dim light barely penetrated the narrow, winding streets. Harry moved through the shadows, unnoticed and unremarkable among the few stragglers heading home after a night of questionable dealings.

If Harry were to create his own force, he would prefer to have competent individuals over the usual scum that filled the underworld. However, one undeniable fact about scum was their expertise in deception and surviving in a world full of treachery. Good people, while more reliable in the long run, often lacked the necessary cunning Harry needed in his plans. He needed a balance, and finding that would be the challenge.

As Harry navigated through the shadowy alleys of Knockturn Alley, he could feel the gazes of the locals on him, sharp and calculating. It wasn't unusual for a stranger to draw attention here, especially one who appeared both young and unfamiliar with the regular crowd. Whispers started to fill the narrow street as a few individuals pointed in his direction, their greedy eyes sizing him up like a potential mark.

Harry wasn't concerned. He had faced far more dangerous situations, and if these lowlifes thought they could take advantage of him, they were in for a rude awakening. His steps remained steady, his expression indifferent as he continued down the path. In a place like this, showing fear or hesitation was akin to bleeding in front of sharks.

Ahead, a particularly seedy-looking wizard caught Harry's eye, a smirk playing on the man's cracked lips as he leaned against the wall, watching Harry's approach. Two others joined him, their hands rubbing together in anticipation. Harry could practically hear their thoughts—an easy mark, maybe a quick payday. He allowed them to believe it, not altering his stride or acknowledging their presence until the last possible moment.

As he neared, the lead wizard stepped forward, blocking Harry's path. "Lost, are you?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with false concern. His companions moved to flank Harry, ensuring there would be no easy escape. Not that Harry had any intention of running.

Harry kept his eyes on the leader, his expression calm and unreadable. "I'm exactly where I need to be," he said coolly, not an ounce of fear in his voice. "You, however, are standing in the worst place possible."

The men around the leader snickered, clearly amused by what they perceived as bravado. The leader, still smirking, took a step closer, his confidence growing with every second. "Oh really?" he sneered. "And where might that be?"

Harry didn't miss a beat. "In my way."

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