The cabin lights were dimmed to a warm amber glow, soft enough to suggest evening even though they were racing across time zones.
Harry sat alone in the forward lounge of the jet, one leg folded beneath him on the cream leather seat, a glass of sparkling water resting on the low walnut table beside an untouched plate of food. The hum of the engines was steady and distant, more vibration than sound. Private aviation had none of the cramped claustrophobia of commercial travel. No chatter. No queues. No delays.
Just quiet altitude.
He had not told anyone where he was going. He had not even fully explained it to himself.
China had simply occurred to him. Must be the fact that he was missing the Chinese food.
A dot on a map. A thought that had sparked while he was standing on the terrace watching the castle hover above the sea. He had felt restless in that moment. Not bored. Not dissatisfied. Just aware that if he stayed, he would start redesigning things again.
So he left.
The jet banked slightly, turning eastward as the last glow of Europe faded beneath them. The city lights below looked like constellations scattered across the earth, blurred by altitude and distance.
The cabin attendant, discreet and almost silent in her movements, approached. "Would you like anything else, Harry?"
Harry considered it briefly. "Is there any good whiskeys?"
"Of course, we happen to have the Bushmills 21."
"I'll take that. On the rocks please, Julia"
Julia nodded with a smile and went to get him his drink. When she left, he leaned back and let his head rest against the seat. The ceiling above him was embedded with tiny fiber-optic lights that resembled a night sky. Someone had thought that detail charming.
And that someone was his dad. He wondered, faintly, what they were doing right now.
Probably yelling.
No maybe they were too stunned to yell. Probably trying to figure out what in the bloody hell Harry had transformed the Moonstone Dunvegan into.
Harry chuckled. To be absolutely fair, he had indeed gone overboard. At first he had only intended to make it into a better version of the old castle, but as always he was lost in the magic and ended up creating something that shouldn't even exist.
The drink arrived in a glass and a decanter. Julia poured him his first drink and Harry took it, thanking her.
Impulse.
That was all this was.
He had built something enormous. Something that would take months for everyone to fully explore. He could have stayed and explained every system, every gravitational field, every layered ward, all new entertainment areas.
But explanation felt like standing still. And mainly it was boring as hell.
China was movement.
He took a slow sip of whiskey and opened the window shade beside him.
"Julia? I didn't see Macy today. Is she not well?"
Julia paused mid-step at his question, she turned back to face him, slightly nervous.
"Macy's fine," she replied gently. "It's just that her mother was taken ill suddenly so, she had to go back."
Harry's gaze shifted from the dark window to Julia's face.
"What happened?" he asked, tone calm but attentive. "Do they know what caused it?"
Julia clasped her hands lightly in front of her. The slight nervousness in her posture eased when she realized he was simply concerned.
"It was a cardiac episode," she explained. "Not a major one. She was taken to hospital as a precaution. They've run tests. The doctors believe it was stress-related. She's stable now."
Harry studied her for a moment. "And Macy's spoken to them?"
"Yes. She's been in contact since she landed. The latest update was reassuring. They're keeping her mother overnight for observation."
Harry nodded once, processing.
"Good."
He took another small sip of whiskey, thoughtful rather than indulgent.
"And the hospital?" he asked quietly. "They're handling it properly?"
Julia hesitated only slightly. "From what Macy said, yes. It's a reputable facility."
"That wasn't what I meant."
Julia met his eyes fully then.
"They have insurance," she said gently. "It should cover most of it."
Harry's expression did not change.
"Contact Victor," he said.
Julia blinked once. "Sir?"
"If they need anything. Anything at all. Treatment, specialists, follow-up care, transport. I don't care what it is." His tone remained even, almost conversational. "Victor can coordinate it faster than anyone. Make sure Macy knows she doesn't need to worry about bills. Hospital or otherwise. I'll handle it."
Julia studied him carefully, as though weighing whether he truly understood what he was offering.
"That could be quite a large expense."
Harry lowered the glass slightly and looked at her, not sharp, not reprimanding, simply reminding.
"You do remember the contracts you all signed, right?" he said evenly. "It was explicitly stated. Any medical needs for you or your immediate family are covered. Fully."
Julia's brows drew together faintly. "That clause was meant for work-related incidents."
"No," Harry corrected gently. "It was meant for security. Stability. Peace of mind."
He set the glass down on the walnut table with deliberate care.
"If someone working with us is distracted because they're worried about a hospital bill, then that's a failure on our end. Not theirs."
Julia searched his face, perhaps expecting youthful exaggeration or impulsive generosity.
There was none.
Only clarity.
"You're certain?" she asked quietly.
Harry leaned back into the leather seat, folding one arm loosely over his midsection.
"I don't put clauses into contracts for decoration."
That earned the smallest smile from her.
Harry's gaze drifted toward the window again, watching the darkness shift subtly as the aircraft adjusted altitude.
"Tell Macy to focus on her mother. If they need a specialist flown in, we'll arrange it. If they need a transfer to a better facility, we'll arrange that too. If everything turns out fine, good. If not, we'll still handle it."
Julia straightened slightly, her professionalism returning, though something warmer lingered in her expression now.
"I'll contact Victor as soon as we stabilize over the next corridor," she said. "And I'll relay your message."
"Not my message," Harry corrected softly. "Company policy."
Julia inclined her head, understanding what he was doing.
"Of course."
She turned to leave, pausing only briefly before stepping into the galley.
"And Julia, please be a dear and get me something to eat. I'm famished." Harry picked up his glass again. "And please, let everyone come and sit here, I'm bored all by myself."
Julia paused mid-step, then turned back with a faint, amused look that softened her usual professional composure.
"Of course, Harry."
She disappeared toward the galley, heels barely making a sound on the carpeted aisle.
Harry leaned back again, lifting his glass. The amber liquid caught the warm cabin lights, glinting softly. Outside the window, there was nothing but darkness and scattered stars. The jet was high enough now that the sky looked almost indigo-black, the horizon barely distinguishable.
A moment later, the faintest shimmer passed through the cabin walls.
Not turbulence.
Magic.
The aircraft itself was layered with wards, silent reinforcement spells woven through the fuselage. Stabilization charms hummed beneath the floor panels. The engines were real, certainly, but they were not alone in keeping the jet aloft.
This was a Muggle machine. But it was still warded with magic.
Julia returned first, followed by two other attendants and, after a polite knock on the frame, one of the co-pilots.
They did not crowd him, but the lounge slowly filled with quiet presence.
A tray appeared before him, this time not untouched. Grilled fish, rice, roasted vegetables, simple but done properly. Julia placed it down with efficient grace.
"You said you were hungry," she reminded him.
"I am," Harry said, setting the whiskey aside and reaching for the fork.
The co-pilot, Arvind, hovered near the doorway. "We're crossing into Russian airspace shortly. Estimated time to Beijing remains on schedule."
Harry nodded without looking up. "I hope there are not disturbances?"
Arvind smiled, "Only slight turbulence, but the wards have kept everything stable."
"That's good to hear."
One of the attendants, Leila, settled into the seat opposite him, glancing around the lounge as if confirming permission. "You really just left them there?"
Harry chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"Yes."
Leila blinked. "After rebuilding an ancestral stronghold into something that bends gravity?"
"Yes. Cause I would have had to spend the next month explaining everything to them if I hadn't left."
A ripple of quiet laughter moved through the small group.
Julia leaned against the cabinet, folding her arms lightly. "Victor is going to have an aneurysm."
"Ehh... He'll be alright." Harry replied calmly. "He has grown used to such things, or at least he pretends to."
Arvind chuckled. "Is it true? It's floating?"
Harry tilted his head slightly. "Define floating."
"Not touching the ground."
"Then yes."
Leila shook her head slowly. "You're twelve."
Harry gave her a flat look. "Irrelevant."
That only made them laugh again.
The atmosphere shifted from professional to familiar. They were still respectful, but not stiff. Most of them were magical and as such they were already familiar with Harry's magical prowess.
Julia studied him again, quieter this time.
"You don't rest, do you?" she asked.
Harry took another bite before answering.
"I just redesigned a castle and altered its gravitational orientation. This is resting."
That earned a soft snort from Leila.
One of the other attendants, Tomas, leaned forward slightly. "Why China?"
Harry wiped his hands neatly with a linen napkin. "I don't know, really" he admitted. "You can say it was more impulsive than any other things."
Hours later, a gentle knock echoed through the bedroom cabin.
Not urgent. Not loud.
Measured.
"Harry?" Julia's voice came softly through the door. "We've landed."
For a few seconds there was no response.
Then a quiet rustle of sheets.
The bedroom aboard the aircraft was larger than most hotel suites. Cream panels. Soft recessed lighting. A full-sized bed secured within subtle stabilization charms so that even turbulence felt like a distant sway. The hum of the engines had shifted to a lower register, taxi-speed vibration rather than flight.
Harry opened his eyes slowly.
He oriented himself in less than a second.
"Beijing?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.
"Yes," Julia replied. "Capital International. We've been assigned a private bay. There's… attention."
He huffed faintly. "Of course there is."
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching once. Even half-asleep, he moved with contained precision. A quick cleaning charm, and he was fresh and ready for his Chinese adventure ahead of him.
His aircraft was not small.
A modified Boeing 727-200 sitting on a private apron was not subtle. Not in 1993 China at least.
Technically, it bore Nexus insignia. But it was his personal, not Nexus'.
As Harry stepped into the main cabin, the crew were already in motion. Tomas was coordinating with ground control through layered communication channels, one mundane, one magical. Arvind had finished shutdown procedures and was reviewing final logs.
Julia approached with a slim leather folder.
"All documents cleared," she said. "Flight permissions, landing clearance, declared purpose of visit."
Harry took the folder, flipping it open briefly. Mandarin text filled the pages. Official seals. Authorization stamps.
He responded in fluent Mandarin without hesitation. "Customs pre-clearance confirmed?"
Julia nodded. "Yes. They're sending a liaison."
"Good."
He handed the folder back.
Outside the windows, airport vehicles were gathering at a polite distance. Security personnel. A black sedan with diplomatic markings. Two officials already speaking animatedly while glancing at the aircraft.
The cabin door lowered with a controlled hydraulic hiss.
The freezing cold night air of Beijing rushed in.
Beijing was brighter than Europe had been. The light sharper. The air carrying a different weight. The weight being coal soot.
At the base of the stairs, three officials stood waiting. Uniformed airport security flanked them discreetly. Their expressions were carefully composed, but curiosity was evident.
From their perspective, a foreign-registered Boeing 727 requesting private handling and carrying Nexus branding was not routine.
Harry descended the stairs alone.
He did not rush.
He did not linger.
One of the officials stepped forward, offering a formal greeting in English.
"Welcome to Beijing, Mr. Potter."
Harry inclined his head slightly and replied in proper Chinese. "Thank you for accommodating the landing on short notice."
The official's composure shifted by a fraction. Surprise at the fluency. Approval.
"Your documentation is in order," the man said. "Transportation has been arranged."
"I'll require currency exchange before departure," Harry replied calmly. "Sterling to Renminbi"
"That can be handled immediately."
The black sedan door opened.
Around them, airport staff were trying very hard not to stare. A private jet of that scale landing under individual ownership was rare. Rare enough that word had already begun spreading quietly through the administrative offices.
Inside the terminal's private corridor, the process was seamless. Documents scanned. Passport stamped. Currency exchanged efficiently. The amount he converted would have funded several small businesses for a year, yet the teller maintained professional composure.
From the outside, it was clear what they saw.
A young foreign executive arriving on his own aircraft, fluent in their language, paperwork flawless, demeanor controlled.
VIP treatment followed naturally.
Escorts. Priority clearance. Discreet security.
As he stepped back out toward the waiting vehicle, Harry paused for half a second, looking up at the hazy Beijing skyline beyond the airport perimeter. It was a complete alien sight from what he knew.
Different architecture. Different vibes. The pollution. Entirely different from the Beijing he knew in his past life. But he could see the vision. The transformation that occurs.
He slid into the sedan.
The door closed with a muted thud.
Behind him, his aircraft remained on the private apron, ground crew already circling it with a mixture of efficiency and awe.
Ahead of him, Beijing unfolded in layered highways and distant towers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The cabin lights had been dimmed to their evening setting, casting the forward lounge in a warm, amber glow that softened the edges of everything. The aircraft was now taxying for takeoff.
Harry sat alone on the long leather sofa, one arm resting along the back, his other hand loosely holding a crystal tumbler. The whiskey inside caught the light with every small movement of his fingers, amber deepening into bronze before settling again. The glass was cool against his palm, grounding.
Two weeks.
It was remarkable how much could change in two weeks when time itself was no longer a fixed boundary.
He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes briefly, allowing his thoughts to drift back over everything that happened since he arrived.
He had eaten a lot, which was not that surprising. Every street food stall around his hotel area knew him on first name basis by the fourth day. He was not treated as a foreigner as he was able to converse in their own language and even their dialects, which had turned him into someone they were comfortable with.
On the fifth day he had gotten a meeting with the President as he had managed to catch the interests of the government on his fourth day. Not that he had to do much as him arriving with a private jet had already made them watch him.
The President had not been a foolish man. He had not accepted Harry's words blindly. He had demanded demonstration, demanded explanation, demanded proof not just of power, but of intent.
Harry had given him both.
He had shown him magic, not as spectacle, but as infrastructure. He had shown him dimensional anchoring, temporal dilation, and magi-tech integration in ways that did not overwhelm but clarified. He had explained what could be done, and more importantly, what should not be done.
The time-dilated dimension had been the turning point.
He had given them a portal too with a ratio of 1:50 and research facilities had been established within almost immediately, teams of scientists stepping into a space where their life's work could unfold in months instead of decades. The implications had not needed explanation. The President had understood them instinctively.
It was not merely an advantage. It was transformation.
Moreover, Harry had done something that unthinkable anywhere else. He had made the President accept magic. Which meant that wizardkind in China need not hide from non-magicals anymore. Furthermore, the way things were set up made sure that magic would not become a tool of dominance. It would not elevate one group above another.
These had been Harry's conditions. Magic would not become a mechanism for oppression disguised as progress. Magical and non-magical people would live alongside each other openly, without secrecy, without forced hierarchy, and without privilege granted solely on the basis of whether someone was magical or not.
Magic did not make someone more human.
It simply made them different.
The President had listened to all of it in silence.
They had done so much more. He had given them smart industrial air filters, a hundred of them and a few had immediately been taken to the other dimension for reverse engineering and the rest were installed around Beijing.
By the 10th day, the President had done something beyond Harry's understanding. He had done something no one would ever have expected, or even imagine.
He had equalized their authority.
Not symbolically. Not ceremonially. Legally.
Harry had been granted executive authority identical to the President himself. The power to approve, veto, initiate, or override at the highest level of national decision-making, specifically within domains relating to magical integration, magi-tech development, and infrastructure. It was a transfer of trust so absolute that even now, sitting alone in his aircraft, Harry still wanted to think it was not real.
It had not been done lightly.
It had been done because the President had seen that Harry did not want control.
He wanted function.
He wanted progress.
He wanted stability.
Greed had never entered the equation.
Along with that authority had come the title. Not an official political designation, but something far more culturally significant.
Big Brother.
Quite ironic considering he was just 12, but it wasn't in the familial sense, but in the older sense. The one rooted deep in Chinese social structure. The figure who existed outside conventional hierarchy yet held influence equal to or greater than formal leaders. Someone who could resolve crises with a single call. Someone whose authority came not from position alone, but from demonstrated capability and earned trust.
Comical as it was, it was a title that carried expectation.
And responsibility.
He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew the object the President had given him at the end of their final meeting.
It was simple. A flat black pass, unmarked except for a small golden emblem pressed into its surface.
It granted him unrestricted access. No checkpoints. No delays. No intermediaries.
The next time he returned, he would not wait in reception halls or sit through procedural clearances. He would walk directly into the President's residence as an equal.
Harry turned the pass slowly between his fingers as the aircraft took off to the sky. He had thought of many ways to get the President to come to terms with his ideas, but never in a million years did he think that he would walk out of China with authority equal to that of the President.
Thankfully it was a closely guarded secret that only higher ups in the government knew. Otherwise the implications of a 12 year old having the same power as the President would have sent global panic through out the world.
The aircraft touched down smoothly at Gatwick Airport around 2:30 PM the same day after around 11 hours of flying. Its wheels kissing the runway with controlled precision rather than impact. The engines reversed with a low, restrained roar, and the massive frame of the jet decelerated along the empty private strip, its presence already isolated from commercial traffic by layers of quiet arrangement and influence.
By the time the aircraft rolled to a complete stop, the ground crew were already waiting at a respectful distance.
Harry descended the steps alone.
The March air was cold, sharp in his lungs, carrying with it the faint scent of frost and distant rain. England felt smaller than Beijing.
His car was already waiting.
Low. Black. Familiar.
He approached it without breaking stride, his hand resting briefly on the roof as if confirming its continued existence. The vehicle responded instantly, systems waking in silent recognition. The door lifted smoothly, and he slid into the driver's seat.
The engine came alive with that same restrained power he preferred—no theatrical roar, just contained violence waiting patiently beneath engineering perfection.
As he pulled away from the airport, the world narrowed into motion and road.
The drive toward the White Cliffs of Dover took around an hour and a half.
He did not rush as he particularly enjoyed the drive through this area. The familiar terrain unfolded around him, after the coastal drive. Rounding cliffs and jagged turns.
Eventually, the estate perimeter approached.
After driving up to the estate via the purple paths, he entered the garage, and the moment his car crossed the threshold, gravity accepted it without transition. The vehicle settled into its designated anchor field automatically, orientation stabilizing relative to his own frame of reference.
Harry stepped out and closed the door behind him, the sound soft against the vast dimensional space of the garage and then proceeded to walk towards the main mansion.
The door or rather the partition in the wall, closed behind him seamlessly without a sound. But that itself had quiet the affect in the hall that followed.
Conversation did not stop instantly. It thinned. One voice faltered, then another, until the room settled into a stillness that felt less like silence and more like something holding its breath.
Harry stepped in, brushing a stray lock of hair back absently, as though he had just come in from the gardens.
The castle responded to him in ways so natural they almost went unnoticed. The ambient lighting shifted a fraction warmer. The air seemed to settle. Somewhere along the floor, faint lines of soft color flickered and then disappeared, as if acknowledging his presence and then standing down.
Then they saw him.
Petunia turned first.
The rest followed in quick succession.
Sirius stopped mid-step. Victor straightened sharply. Molly's hand went to her mouth without her realizing it. Andromeda froze. Dan and Edmund both went still in the same breath.
Bellatrix did not move at all, but her attention locked onto him with immediate precision.
For a moment, nodody spoke.
Harry looked at them, faintly puzzled by the intensity of it.
"…Hi? I'm back?"
Petunia crossed the distance.
Not carefully. Not slowly. Not with restraint.
She reached him and caught his face in her hands, looking at him as if she needed to confirm every detail. That he was whole. That he was real. That nothing had been taken or broken or changed in a way she could not fix.
Her relief came first, sharp and overwhelming.
Then it turned.
Her grip tightened.
"Where were you?"
The question was not loud, but it carried weight. Fear wrapped tightly in anger.
Harry blinked once.
"I went to China."
Her expression did not soften.
"You vanished," she said, voice tightening. "You were gone for sixteen days, Harry. No word. No explanation. Do you understand what that means for the people standing here?"
He looked between them, trying to reconcile her words with his own understanding.
"I left a message?"
That landed badly.
Sirius let out a short breath that held far too much tension.
"A message," he repeated, not mocking, but not accepting it either.
Victor's voice was quieter, controlled to the point of strain. "Where?"
Harry gestured toward the central table.
"On the tablets."
They followed his gaze.
The glass slabs lay exactly where they had been for days. Picked up. Turned over. Activated and dismissed. Studied and then set aside when they proved too complex to decode fully.
Molly frowned. "Those?"
"We thought they were just… part of everything else," Dan added, glancing briefly around the hall. There was still a trace of awe in his voice. The place was too comfortable, too intuitive, too… responsive to feel entirely ordinary.
Edmund nodded. "Everything here works so smoothly that we stopped questioning half of it."
Harry stepped forward and picked one up. "They function as a map of the island but also as a message board in the island itself."
The tablet responded instantly.
Light unfolded from its surface, forming a stable three-dimensional projection of the estate. The floating island rendered in layered detail, clean and precise. Not overwhelming, just… comprehensive.
They had seen this before.
They all recognized it.
And they all remembered how quickly they had given up trying to interpret it.
Harry adjusted the projection slightly, isolating a quiet section near the edge.
"There."
A large green dot was pulsing steadily.
Not so subtle and easy to overlook but they had still done it.
Andromeda's brow drew together.
"I saw that," she said slowly. "I remember thinking it was some kind of a marker."
"So did I," Victor added, his tone flattening as realization set in. "I assumed it was system-related."
Molly exhaled softly. "We all saw it."
Harry reached out and tapped the dot.
The projection dimmed slightly, and the message surfaced.
His own voice, calm and entirely unbothered, filled the room.
"I'm going to China to get some original Chinese food. Don't worry, I'm taking my jet. I'll be back in a few days."
The message ended.
The silence that followed was different this time.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Petunia closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, the sharp edge of fear had shifted into something steadier, though no less intense.
"You left that," she said, measured and controlled, "inside something none of us fully understood, marked in a way that could have meant anything."
Harry hesitated.
"...Yes. I guess I didn't take that into account."
Sirius dragged a hand down his face.
"We spent days going through that thing," he said, more tired than angry now. "We thought it was some kind of system interface. We didn't think it was you telling us you'd just… left the country."
Victor gave a quiet, humorless breath.
"A single green dot."
Edmund shook his head, almost in disbelief. "And we all ignored it."
Harry looked at the projection, then back at them.
"It was fairly isolated."
"That is not the same as obvious," Dan replied. Although they themselves knew that it was obvious, because where else was a large green dot that pulsed steadily, ignored?
The tension held for a moment longer.
Then it broke.
Not with shouting.
With relief finally settling where panic had been.
Molly stepped forward and pulled him into a firm embrace, her voice soft but thick with emotion. "You had us worried sick."
Andromeda followed, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder, grounding herself in the fact that he was actually here.
Sirius let out a long breath, the fight draining out of him. "Next time, you tell us properly."
Victor didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at Harry, measuring, confirming, recalibrating.
Petunia had not moved far.
She reached for him again, pulling him into a tighter embrace this time, one hand coming up to the back of his head.
"You don't disappear like that," she said quietly. "Not without making sure we understand. I don't care how advanced all of this is." Her grip tightened slightly. "You tell me. Clearly."
Harry nodded, a little more aware now of what his absence had meant to them.
"I'll make sure to leave something more obvious from now."
She pulled back, searching his face again.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes."
"Were you safe?"
"Yes."
"Nothing happened?"
"A lot of food happened..."