Central Park, New York - The Following Saturday
Harry Potter stood at the entrance to Central Park, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jumper and trying to calm the nervous energy that had been building all week. Today, he was going to meet Mason Potter—family he'd never known existed.
"You're nervous," Zatanna observed, falling into step beside him as they walked toward the designated meeting spot near Bethesda Fountain.
"Bit," Harry admitted. "What if they don't like me? What if I'm not what they expected?"
"Harry," Serena said firmly from his other side, "they're going to love you. Mason's been excited about this meeting all week—apparently the whole Potter family is curious about their cousin."
"The whole family?" Harry asked, his stomach doing a small flip.
"Mason's parents wanted to meet you too," Serena explained. "Don't worry, they're lovely people. Very... warm."
Nathan, who was trailing behind them with his ever-present notebook, looked up from whatever he'd been scribbling. "Serena's right. The American Potters are known for being incredibly welcoming. It's part of their family culture—they take in anyone who needs a home."
Before Harry could ask what that meant, Zatanna grabbed his arm and pointed toward the fountain. "There they are!"
Harry looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a group of three people standing near the fountain's edge. Even from a distance, he could tell they were magical—there was something about the way they carried themselves, the casual awareness of their surroundings that marked them as people accustomed to living in both worlds.
As they got closer, Harry could make out details. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with messy dark hair that looked startlingly familiar. The woman beside him had warm brown eyes and an immediately welcoming smile. And the boy between them...
"Mason!" Serena called out, waving enthusiastically.
Mason Potter looked up and grinned, and Harry's breath caught. The resemblance was unmistakable—they had the same bone structure, even similar hair that refused to lie flat despite obvious attempts to tame it. Mason was taller and older, but looking at him was like seeing a preview of what Harry might look like in a few years.
"Serena!" Mason called back, jogging over to meet them. "And you must be Harry. I'm Mason Potter, and I've been dying to meet you."
He extended his hand with the same easy confidence Harry had noticed in all the American magical children he'd met, but there was something else in his expression—genuine excitement and what looked suspiciously like relief.
"Harry Potter," Harry said, shaking Mason's hand and trying not to stare at how similar they looked. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."
"Are you kidding? When Serena told me there was a Potter from Britain visiting New York, I practically begged my parents to let me come." Mason's grin widened. "Come on, you have to meet Mom and Dad."
He led Harry toward the couple by the fountain, talking rapidly as they walked. "Fair warning—Mom's probably going to want to hug you immediately, and Dad's going to ask about seventeen questions about British magical politics. They've been looking forward to this meeting almost as much as I have."
Harry felt his anxiety spike, but before he could worry too much, they reached the adults.
"Harry," Mason said formally, "I'd like you to meet my parents. Jonathan and Margaret Potter."
Jonathan Potter stepped forward first, and Harry was struck again by the family resemblance. This was what James Potter might have looked like if he'd lived to reach his forties—the same unruly hair now streaked with gray, the same kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
"Harry," Jonathan said warmly, extending his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, son. We've been hoping to connect with the British branch of the family for years."
"Mr. Potter," Harry said politely, shaking his hand and trying to process the word 'son' spoken with such genuine warmth.
"Please, call me Uncle Jonathan," the man said with a smile. "We're family, after all."
Before Harry could respond, Margaret Potter stepped forward, and Harry found himself enveloped in a hug—warm, encompassing, and utterly without reservation.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said softly, holding him just tight enough to be comforting without being overwhelming. "You look so much like your father. James would be so proud of the young man you're becoming."
Harry felt his throat tighten unexpectedly. "You... you knew my father?"
"We knew of him," Jonathan said gently. "The Potter family keeps good records, and we've always stayed informed about our British relatives, even when direct contact wasn't... practical."
Margaret released Harry from the hug but kept her hands on his shoulders, studying his face with maternal concern. "We tried to reach out after your parents died," she said softly. "We wrote to the British magical authorities, offered to take you in, give you a home."
"What happened?" Harry asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"We were told that it was impossible," Jonathan said, his voice carrying a note of old frustration. "That you were settled with relatives in Britain, that international placement wasn't in your best interests, that we were 'too far removed' from the direct line to be considered proper guardians."
Harry felt a familiar anger building in his chest. "They told you I was settled with relatives?"
"Yes," Margaret said, her expression growing concerned at his tone. "Were you not? The letters we received suggested you were well-cared for by your mother's family."
Harry looked between these warm, welcoming people who had wanted him, who had tried to give him a home, and felt the weight of years of unnecessary suffering pressing down on him.
"The Dursleys hate magic," he said quietly. "They hate everything about the magical world, including me. They... they weren't kind."
The silence that followed was heavy with understanding and barely contained fury.
"Those bastards," Jonathan said quietly, his voice carrying a cold anger that reminded Harry powerfully of John Constantine's protective fury. "They knew. The British authorities knew we wanted you, and they lied to keep you there."
"Uncle Jonathan," Mason said carefully, clearly reading the dangerous mood settling over his father, "maybe we should—"
"Actually," Serena interrupted, stepping closer to Harry in a gesture of support, "maybe Harry could tell you about his current situation. He's not with the Dursleys anymore."
For the next hour, as they walked through Central Park, Harry found himself telling the Potter family about John Constantine, about his rescue from the Dursleys, about the life he'd built with a guardian who understood both magic and the cost of survival. He told them about his training, his education, his friends, and finally, about why he was currently in America.
The American Potters listened with a mixture of horror at what he'd endured and pride at what he'd become.
"John Constantine," Jonathan said thoughtfully when Harry finished his story. "I know that name. He's got quite a reputation in international magical circles."
"Good reputation or bad reputation?" Harry asked, suddenly worried.
"Good," Margaret assured him quickly. "Unorthodox, unconventional, and definitely not someone you'd want to cross, but good. If Constantine chose to take you in, you found yourself an extraordinary guardian."
"He saved me," Harry said simply. "In every way a person can be saved."
"Then we owe him a debt we can never repay," Jonathan said seriously. "And Harry, you should know—as far as this family is concerned, you're a Potter. You'll always have a home with us, whenever you need one."
Harry felt tears prick at his eyes and blinked them back determinedly. "Thank you. I... I never knew I had family who would want me."
"Oh, sweetheart," Margaret said, pulling him into another hug, "there are so many people who would want you. You're remarkable."
"Speaking of family," Mason said, clearly sensing that Harry needed a change of subject before he became completely overwhelmed, "you should come visit us sometime. Actually visit, I mean. See where we live, meet the rest of the family, maybe even check out Ilvermorny if you're interested."
"Ilvermorny?" Harry asked, grateful for the distraction. "That's your magical school?"
"The best magical school in the world," Mason said with obvious pride. "Though I might be slightly biased."
"Only slightly," Serena said with a laugh. "Mason bleeds Ilvermorny blue and cranberry."
"What's it like?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. "I know a bit about Hogwarts, but I've never heard much about American magical education."
Mason's face lit up with enthusiasm. "It's incredible. Want to hear the whole story? Because I love telling the founding story."
For the next twenty minutes, as they settled on a bench near the fountain, Mason regaled Harry with the tale of Ilvermorny's founding. He told them about Isolt Sayre, the Irish witch who fled to America to escape her dark wizard aunt, and how she fell in love with a Muggle man named James Steward.
"The best part," Mason said, clearly warming to his favorite topic, "is that she founded the school with her husband and their adopted sons—two boys from the Wampanoag tribe who had magical abilities. Right from the beginning, Ilvermorny was about bringing different magical traditions together."
"That's beautiful," Zatanna said softly. "Building something new from different cultures."
"Exactly," Serena agreed. "And the house system reflects that philosophy. Instead of sorting people based on personality traits, the houses represent different aspects of magic itself."
"How does it work?" Harry asked.
"Four houses," Mason explained, settling into what was clearly a well-practiced explanation. "Thunderbird represents the soul—the adventurous spirit, the part of magic that seeks new horizons. Wampus represents the body—strength, warriors, the physical mastery of magic. Horned Serpent represents the mind—scholars, researchers, the intellectual pursuit of magical knowledge. And Pukwudgie represents the heart—healers, nurturers, magic used to help and protect others."
"Which house are you in?" Harry asked.
"Pukwudgie," Mason said with obvious pride. "I want to be a Healer. Serena's Thunderbird—she's always looking for the next adventure or discovery."
"And the sorting?" Nathan asked, looking up from his notebook where he'd been furiously scribbling notes.
"That's the really cool part," Serena said, taking over the explanation. "Instead of a hat, the sorting ceremony involves all four house symbols. When you're called up, the houses choose you—the Thunderbird might spread its wings, the Wampus might roar, the Horned Serpent's crystal in its forehead might glow, or the Pukwudgie might raise its arrow."
"What if more than one chooses you?" Harry asked.
"Then you get to pick," Mason said with a grin. "The school believes that students should have a say in their own destiny."
Harry tried to imagine choosing his own house, having that kind of agency in his education. "That sounds amazing."
"It is," Serena confirmed. "And the classes are incredible too. We study traditional magic alongside newer innovations, learn about different cultural approaches to magical theory, and even take courses that integrate magical and non-magical technology."
"Like what?" Zatanna asked, fascinated.
"Magitech Engineering," Mason said immediately. "Magical Transportation Systems—that's where you learn about things like magical automobiles and enhanced aircraft. Applied Potions in Modern Medicine. Comparative Magical Anthropology."
"And the best part," Serena added with obvious enthusiasm, "is Practical Application courses. Instead of just reading about magical theory, we actually go out and use it to solve real problems. Environmental restoration projects, magical creature conservation, community service in both magical and non-magical communities."
Harry thought about his own education—John's practical survival training, Tim's creative magic, Dumbledore's formal techniques, Jason's combat instruction. "It sounds like they're teaching you to actually live in the world, not just study it."
"Exactly!" Mason said, clearly delighted that Harry understood. "Ilvermorny's philosophy is that magic should be used to make life better for everyone, not just wizards. We're taught to be part of the wider world, not separate from it."
"Plus," Serena said with a mischievous grin, "the inter-house competitions are legendary. Quidditch, yes, but also magical innovation contests, collaborative problem-solving challenges, and something called the Great Game."
"The Great Game?" Harry asked.
"Campus-wide mystery game that runs for the entire academic year," Mason explained, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "The faculty creates an elaborate puzzle that incorporates everything we're learning—magical theory, practical applications, historical research, even non-magical skills. Teams from all four houses work together to solve it."
"Teams from all houses?" Nathan asked with interest.
"That's the point," Serena said. "The Great Game is designed so that no single house has all the skills needed to solve it. Thunderbird students might be good at finding new approaches, but they need Horned Serpent students for research, Wampus students for any physical challenges, and Pukwudgie students to keep everyone working together harmoniously."
"It teaches us that different perspectives make us stronger," Mason added. "Competition is fun, but collaboration is how you actually solve problems."
Harry found himself genuinely enchanted by their description. "It sounds like a completely different approach to magical education."
"It is," Jonathan said, having listened to this conversation with obvious pride in his son and his school. "American magical education has always been more... flexible than European traditions. We believe in adapting to changing times rather than maintaining systems simply because they're old."
"Though don't get me wrong," Mason said quickly, "we still learn all the traditional magic. Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions—all of that. We just also learn why those traditions developed, how they can be improved, and what happens when you combine them with new ideas."
"Like what John's been teaching me," Harry said thoughtfully. "Traditional techniques, but adapted for real-world situations."
"Exactly," Serena said with satisfaction. "Constantine's approach to magical education is very much in line with American principles—practical, adaptable, focused on results rather than traditions."
They spent another hour walking through the park, with Mason and Serena continuing to describe life at Ilvermorny. They told Harry about the house dormitories built into a massive castle on Mount Greylock, about professors who taught everything from Ancient Runes to Magical Engineering, about students who came from every background imaginable and learned to work together despite their differences.
"You should visit," Mason said as they prepared to part ways. "I'm serious. Mom and Dad would love to have you stay with us for a while, and I bet you'd love seeing Ilvermorny."
"I'd like that," Harry said, and was surprised to realize how much he meant it. "Though I'm not sure how long I'll be in America."
"However long you're here," Margaret said, pulling him into another hug, "you have family now. Real family who loves you and wants you around."
"And if you ever want to stay permanently," Jonathan added quietly, "American magical citizenship is always an option. Especially for someone with your... unique circumstances."
Harry felt his throat tighten again. The offer was tempting—a chance to be part of a family, to attend a school that sounded incredible, to live in a magical community that valued innovation and inclusion over tradition and hierarchy.
But he also thought about John, somewhere in Europe hunting something dangerous. About Tim and Jason and even Dumbledore, the people who'd become his chosen family. About London, where he'd learned what it meant to survive and thrive.
"Thank you," he said finally. "For everything. For wanting me, for offering me a home, for... for just being family."
"Always," Margaret said firmly. "No matter what happens, no matter where you end up, you're our family now."
As they said their goodbyes and exchanged addresses for future correspondence, Harry felt something settle in his chest that he'd never experienced before. Not just belonging, but choice. For the first time in his life, he had options. People who wanted him, places where he could thrive, futures that looked bright and full of possibility.
"Well," Zatanna said as they walked back toward her father's apartment, "how do you feel?"
Harry considered the question carefully. "Different," he said finally. "Like... like I understand something about myself that I never did before."
"What's that?" Serena asked.
Harry smiled, thinking about Jonathan's warm eyes, Margaret's encompassing hugs, Mason's infectious enthusiasm for learning and growing.
"That being a Potter isn't just about what happened to me when I was a baby," he said. "It's about choosing to be the kind of person who builds things instead of destroying them. Who brings people together instead of driving them apart. Who uses power to protect instead of to control."
"That," Nathan said seriously, "is exactly the kind of Potter the American branch is known for being."
As they walked through the New York streets, Harry reflected that John had been right to send him to America. Not just for safety, but for perspective. Here, he was learning that magic could be collaborative instead of competitive, that tradition could evolve instead of stagnate, and that family could be chosen as well as inherited.
He was still Harry Potter, with all the complications that name entailed. But now he also knew what it meant to be a Potter by choice, not just by birth.
And that, he thought as he listened to his friends plan their next adventure, made all the difference in the world.