Harry Potter Outlaw Wizard


Well-Known Member
Outlaw Wizard

(*This is where the line of separation goes. This is where the line of separation goes.*)

Disclaimer: I don’t own this series or any other series. I am just floating an idea. I am making no money, nor plan to, off this venture. If you think of suing me over this, then grow up.

(*This is where the line of separation goes. This is where the line of separation goes.*)

Sighing, Harry marched into the building. He hated trips like this.

Not because of the act itself. In fact, he didn’t even hate the people he was meeting.

No, he hated only one thing about the whole deal he had to face.

“HARRY!” cried Fred Luo, rushing over to meet the young adult. “IT’S BEEN AGES!” the man called out, hugging him tightly.

“Still straight, Fred,” Harry sighed.

“Oh, you’re still young, feel free to call me anytime if you want to … experiment,” the weapons dealer purred, before stepping back.

What he hated most … was that Fred never stopped his attempts to seduce Harry. Granted, if he swung that way, he might have been flattered. But the guy simply came on too strong, making the displaced wizard wonder if it was all an act, or Fred simply had no dial to turn down his attempts.

“So, what have you brought me today!?” Fred said with his usual flourish.

Keeping a smile on his face, Harry pulled off his bag and set it on a nearby table. “As always, a good size shipment of dragonite, top quality,” Harry spoke. “He’s a sample of it.

Nodding, Fred snapped his fingers, summoning one of his guards to bring him a device to test the mineral’s purity. “You always bring me the best rocks, Harry. Although perhaps you would like some from me, hmm?”

Harry didn’t respond, well used to tuning out Fred’s outlandish flirtations,

As always, Fred whistled. “My, oh my, such purity in these little baubles,” he murmured, scanning another of the rocks. “Just where do you come up with such, I wonder?”

“That … is a secret that you will not get out of me,” Harry said with a kind smile. “If I told you, you’d never buy mine … or sell it to someone.”

“Would I do that?”

“You are a businessman first,” Harry countered. It was also why Harry only dealt with Fred for dragonite: no one cared where the stuff came from, just as long as it kept coming. If you went to Fred, it involved weapons, not fuel supplies.

But he knew that wouldn’t be enough for Fred. The guy would dig and search, as much as an information broker as a weapons dealer. So Harry had no doubt that Fred at least knew or suspected Harry was behind large purchases of low-density dragonite. In all likelihood, the man simply assumed Harry had found some way to purify it into a higher density. The amounts Harry sold Fred weren’t large enough to trip anyone’s interest.

Besides, it wasn’t like they could duplicate Harry’s method.

“So true,” Fred said wistfully. “Density’s just as high as it usually is for you.

“My, Harry, you’re making a good deal of money for something you consider a side business.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You know who I live with; you think those two could stay afloat without me?”

“Oh, so true,” Fred said, handing the scanner and the bag to his guard. “They do seem to think they’ll make it on their good looks alone, sometimes.”

Fred made his way back to his desk, typing several commands into his computer. “Shall we say the same price as always?”

“Sure,” Harry nodded. “Market for the stuff hasn’t changed much since last time.” He didn’t want to cheat the man, but he also didn’t want to be cheated himself. “The rest will be at the usual place in an hour.”

“Of course it will,” Fred said with a smile.

“OH! Before you go, that order you placed came in!”

Harry blinked at that. “You actually found some?”

“Oh, several,” Fred said, snapping his fingers again as another of his guards pushed forward a cart with a box on it. With a smile, Fred opened it, displaying the contents to Harry. “You wouldn’t believe how hard even these were to acquire!”

Harry looked over the contents, spotting several caster guns and a few staffs. None appeared to be in working order, signs of damage or simple wear being evident on all of them. Along the bottom were several Shells of varying numbers. Even without touching them, Harry could feel the magic in several of them, most with levels telling him that they were still viable, a few that would either misfire or explode if used, and the rest dead. Whistling, he turned back to Fred. “I didn’t think you’d get this much so soon.”

“Well, I can say I was definitely motivated,” Fred offered out. “And don’t worry; I took out the cost from your payment.”

Harry nodded. “Surprised I had anything left then.”

“Oh, the difficulty in getting these wasn’t in the price, but finding anyone who had any. A functional Caster Gun or Staff goes for a lot, but the damaged ones are next to worthless since those who know how to fix them aren’t around anymore.”

Harry nodded. “True with all antiques, I suppose. The Shells?”

“What use is the ammunition if the weapon itself is broken?”

(*This is where the line of separation goes. This is where the line of separation goes.*)

With a near silent pop, the only wizard on Sentinel III appeared on the outskirts of Locust, carrying a large backpack. Where before it had once held a sample of high-density dragonite, it now carried broken Caster weapons and ammo, the lightening charm the only thing keeping him from being weighed down by it.

And thus, our hero returns home, Harry thought to himself.

Five years, it had been five years since he had gone from a Fourth Year Hogwarts student, forced into a competition against a dragon, to somehow ending up on a planet eighty light years from Earth, far into the future, thrown out in front of another teen who had just crashed on this world, who had just become an orphan like him.

“Or maybe … another reality entirely,” he mused, pausing to look up at the stars.

Add to that the stories behind Caster weapons, the Tao Magic of the pirates… Either the Statue of Secrecy was no more, or this wasn’t his world to begin with, his universe. At least, he had gotten no results for searches for people he knew in what was the past. No Dursleys, no Grangers…

Just Harry Potter, adult wizard trying to understand what passed for the local magics, and keeping out of notice for those who knew them better and might want him.

For his skill, Harry was still just trying to survive. He didn’t have a massive library to work with, just his school books, his mementos, and whatever texts he’d been able to gather over the years before he had been … expelled to this realm.

A powerful wizard? Perhaps he might be. But his life consisted of working with his friends/family/roommates, Gene and Jim, repairing equipment with a few spells, finding things…

His biggest money-maker was turning low-density dragonite into high-density, and that only worked because dragonite … was solid magic. That was the best explanation he could come up with. Just holding some gave him a boost of power.

But if he focused on it, poured his magic into the rock, its density increased. A few weeks work could net him millions of Wong.

And considering Gene’s ideas, it was probably best for them all—and Jim’s currently ulcer-free stomach—if he didn’t let them know they had a sizable cushion.

Of course, magic couldn’t solve everything. No matter how many mending charms you used, some equipment couldn’t be repaired, especially if it was just worn down by time.

Hell, he didn’t even consider putting the Caster equipment into a mokeskin bag or even shrinking it. Who knew how the Shells would react, let alone the broken guns he hoped to repair.

Smiling as he turned a corner, heading for the garage he stored his air-bike in, and his quickest way across the city, back home. It wasn’t like he could use Apparition—who knew who Gene might have brought back or moved around.

Not to mention the stuff he was carrying. It may have always been fine when he did that with Gene and Jim, and when he came to Locust from Hugo, but he wasn’t going to take too many chances.

Besides, the bike allowed him to indulge in some speed.

“Still feel like I was gypped,” he muttered. “All those science fiction shows and movies the Dursleys watched, and I still don’t have my flying bike.”

The air-bike flew along the ground and streets, still not flying in the air like his broom … which he couldn’t use in such a crowded city for safety reasons.

It wasn’t like he could go get another one if he needed it. And none of the extra books he had explained how to make one.

For now, all he could do was study what he had, continue to try and understand Caster magic, make a living, and occasionally hope someone from home came and got him.

Hopefully the good guys … or the good and sexy girls who—“I’ve been hanging out with Gene too much,” Harry sighed, before shaking his head.

Nope, it was time to drive—man, he wished it flew—into the city and back home.

“Hmm,” he said, checking his messages, “Jim said to meet them at Clyde’s…

“Man, I hope it’s not to carry Gene’s drunk ass home,” he groused, as he started to secure his package to the bike.

(*This is where the line of separation goes. This is where the line of separation goes.*)

Harry blinked. “Who’s the dead … I’ll go with cyborg?” Harry asked.

“Death Rob,” Jim provided, as Gene continued to flirt with Iris. “And he is—or was—a Type-C android.”

“… O~kay, and he did have a bounty on him, right?”

“Yep,” Jim chirped. “4000 Wong.”

“… Neat,” Harry drawled. “Name brand ramen for us tonight.”

At least he didn’t have to cook tonight.

(*This is where the line of separation goes. This is where the line of separation goes.*)