Chapter 43: Strict vs Traditional
---Three Weeks Later, February 1988---
The international portkey deposited them in MACUSA's arrival hall with barely a wobble. Harry landed easily beside Chrysa, who had gotten used to portkey travel months ago. The marble-lined room reminded him of Gringotts, though the floating golden symbols above the reception desk were purely decorative from what he could tell.
"Welcome to the Magical Congress," a bored-looking wizard in navy robes droned from behind the desk. "Please present your wands and travel documentation. No-maj items must be declared..."
"No-maj?" Harry whispered to Perenelle while Nicolas handled the paperwork. "That sounds ridiculous. Even the other places just used their word for 'muggle'."
"Americans like to be different," Perenelle murmured back, her lips twitching slightly.
The clerk's eyes narrowed at Harry's paperwork. "No wand registration?"
"He's seven," Nicolas said patiently.
"Ah." The clerk made a note. "Please be advised that all magic must be performed with a registered wand within MACUSA jurisdiction. Magic is strictly monitored."
Harry noticed several floating quills nearby suddenly pause in their writing, turning slightly toward their group. Monitoring charms?
A young witch in crisp robes approached them. "I'm Junior Auror Chen. If you'll follow me?"
They walked through wide corridors lined with red-black tiles inlaid with golden patterns. The halls bustled with witches and wizards hurrying about their business. Harry's Inner Eye flickered with warning, showing him the movement a split second before it happened - a self-cleaning broom to his left, aiming straight for his legs. He stepped smoothly aside, letting the broom whisk past.
"Interesting reflexes," Chen commented.
They followed Chen through the busy corridors, passing witches levitating stacks of papers and wizards discussing policy changes. Harry noticed more of those floating quills, all seeming to pause briefly as they passed.
"Your visit coincides with an interesting exhibition," Chen mentioned casually. "The Magical Wing of the Metropolitan Museum is hosting several prominent artists this month. Including some who work with... unconventional techniques."
Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged a quick glance. "We'd planned to visit the museum," Nicolas said carefully.
"Excellent." Chen smiled. "Our Department of Magical Artistry would be very interested in any... observations you might share."
They reached a set of bronze doors. Chen turned to them. "Will you be requiring a No-Maj Interaction Permit?"
"Yes, please," Perenelle answered. "And we'll need a temporary transformation permit for my ward's familiar."
Chen's eyes finally landed on Chrysa, who had been padding silently beside Harry. "Ah. Yes. That would be... advisable."
Nicolas pulled out his wand once the permits were arranged. "Ready, Chrysa?"
A gentle wave transformed the Nemean Lion cub into a small orange kitten. Harry quickly scooped her up as she meowed indignantly, batting at the air with tiny paws that had been massive just moments ago.
"Remember," Chen said as they prepared to leave, "all magic must be performed with a registered wand. We take the Statute of Secrecy very seriously here."
Harry nodded, though he noticed she seemed to be looking at his hands rather than his face.
They stepped through the bronze doors, and Harry's first glimpse of New York City stopped him in his tracks.
Enormous buildings of glass and steel stretched up into the sky, far taller than even Hogwarts' highest tower. Strange metal boxes on wheels rushed past on the black stone roads, making horrible noises. The sheer number of people walking past was overwhelming - more than Harry had ever seen in one place, all dressed in odd clothing without a single robe in sight.
"What..." Harry gaped at a yellow vehicle that screeched to a halt nearby, letting people climb in and out. "What are those things?"
"Taxis," Nicolas explained, gently guiding Harry down the steps into the subway station. "Like carriages, but for muggles."
Harry stared at everything, trying to take it all in at once. A group of teenagers walked past wearing bright neon clothing and carrying strange boxes that were blasting music. "And those?"
"Boomboxes," Perenelle answered. "Muggles use electricity instead of magic to make music play."
"Like a wireless?" Harry frowned. "But without magic?"
They passed a store window where multiple television sets displayed moving pictures. Harry pressed his face against the glass, fascinated. "They have magical portraits!"
"Those are televisions," Nicolas explained quickly as several passersby gave them odd looks. "They use electricity to show moving pictures, but they're following a script, like a play. They're not actually 'alive' like magical portraits."
A loud siren wailed as a fire truck roared past, lights flashing. Harry instinctively raised his hands, mist flowing briefly between his fingers before he caught himself.
Nicolas quickly caught Harry's wrists, guiding his hands down. "Remember where we are," he said quietly.
Harry nodded, though he noticed a slight glimmer in the air above them. Chrysa purred soothingly from inside his jacket, where she'd retreated from all the noise.
"Perhaps we should find somewhere quieter for lunch?" Perenelle suggested, steering them away from the crowded street.
"I know just the place from that map," Nicolas smiled. "Have you ever tried pizza, Harry?"
They found a small pizzeria tucked away on a quieter street. Through the window, Harry could see a man in a white apron tossing dough into the air.
Inside Ray's Pizza, the smell of herbs and melting cheese filled the air. They chose a corner booth where they could watch both the street and the kitchen. Chrysa, still in kitten form, curled up contentedly in Harry's lap.
"But how do they make the cheese stretch like that?" Harry asked, watching in fascination as Nicolas demonstrated proper pizza-eating technique. A string of mozzarella stretched between the slice and the plate.
"Different types of cheese have different properties," Nicolas explained, clearly enjoying Harry's amazement at mundane things. "Much like how different potions ingredients react differently to heat."
Harry carefully mimicked Nicolas's technique with his own slice, delighted when he managed to get the cheese to stretch without breaking. Chrysa delicately accepted tiny bits of pepperoni, somehow maintaining her dignity even as a kitten.
Through the window, Harry noticed two dangerous people in muggle suits walking past. They paused briefly, one checking what looked like a pocket watch, before continuing on. Their robes must be spelled to look like suits, he realized, remembering similar tricks from their time in Japan.
"We should visit the museum after lunch," Perenelle suggested, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Both sections, I think."
Nicolas nodded. "The magical wing is quite well hidden. They've integrated it rather cleverly with the regular exhibits."
"How do they keep muggles from wandering in?" Harry asked, reaching for another slice.
"You'll see," Nicolas smiled. "American wizards have their own way of doing things. Though perhaps finish your pizza first?"
oo0ooOoo0oo
The Metropolitan Museum of Art was impressive, Harry had to admit, though after visiting magical galleries in Japan and Africa, the still paintings felt... flat. Even the most dramatic scenes just sat there, frozen in time.
"The technique is amazing though," Harry whispered to Perenelle as they studied a Renaissance painting. "Look at how they created depth without any actual magical layers."
"Quite ingenious," Perenelle agreed. "Though I do miss Akiko's fox-fire highlights..."
They wandered through several galleries until they reached what looked like a maintenance door marked "Restoration Work in Progress." Nicolas pulled out their museum passes, tapping them once with his wand. The simple brass numbers on the door rearranged themselves into concentric symbols.
Inside, the magical wing was much more dynamic than the muggle sections. Moving paintings covered the walls, but unlike the portraits at Hogwarts, these seemed to follow strict patterns - more like carefully choreographed dances than true interactions.
"American magical artists tend toward precision," a voice commented. A tall witch in practical robes approached them, her badge identifying her as Dr. Sarah Ravensworth, Curator of Magical Arts. "We find it helps maintain the Statute of Secrecy when magical paintings behave... predictably."
Harry watched a nearby landscape where a thunderstorm rolled through every exactly three minutes. "But doesn't that make them less... real?"
"An interesting perspective," Ravensworth smiled. "You must be Mr. Potter. We've heard about your work with fire-painting from our colleagues in Japan."
"Though perhaps," Ravensworth continued, leading them deeper into the magical wing, "you'd be interested in our preservation techniques? They're a bit different from what you would've encountered in Zanzibar."
They passed through an archway into a circular chamber where magical artworks hung suspended in what looked like sheets of perfectly clear ice. Each piece cycled - a phoenix that burst into flames exactly every seven minutes, a unicorn that traced the same path through an eternal forest.
"Crystal suspension," Ravensworth explained, gesturing to the nearest piece. "Unlike African preservation crystals that adapt to the art, these are more stable and predictable."
"It's very... controlled," Nicolas observed diplomatically.
"Precisely." Ravensworth beamed, missing his everyone's frown. "No unexpected variations, no unpredictable magic. Everything properly regulated and-"
"Contained?" came a new voice, rich with barely hidden disapproval. An elderly wizard in robes decorated with beadwork stepped out from behind one of the suspended paintings. "Like trying to trap a river in a glass box, isn't it, Sarah?"
"Master Wematanye," Ravensworth's smile became slightly fixed. "I didn't realize you were visiting today."
"The spirits go where they will," the old wizard said mildly, though his dark eyes were sharp as they studied Harry. "Just as magic should flow freely, not be bound in crystal cages."
"Master Wematanye teaches at Ilvermorny," Ravensworth explained, her tone carefully neutral. "Traditional magic arts."
"Among other things," the old wizard smiled, pulling something from his robes. It looked like a small wooden hoop with a web woven inside. "Here, young one. Watch."
He held the dreamcatcher up to one of the crystal-suspended paintings - a soaring thunderbird that repeated its flight path every four minutes. As the thunderbird passed near the dreamcatcher, its pattern suddenly shifted. The great magical bird deviated from its usual course, swooping down to examine them with genuine curiosity before returning to its eternal flight.
"You see?" Wematanye's eyes twinkled. "Magic remembers how to be free, even in crystal cages."
"That's not regulation-approved interaction with the exhibits," Ravensworth protested, though Harry noticed she seemed reluctant to directly challenge the elder wizard.
"Regulation," Wematanye chuckled. "Tell me, young Potter, when you paint with living fire, do you bind it? Or do you let it dance as it wishes?"
Harry thought about his fire paintings, how each one moved differently depending on his emotions and intent. "It... varies? Sometimes the flames want to move one way, sometimes another."
"Exactly!" Wematanye nodded approvingly. "Magic is alive, not a machine to be programmed. These crystal prisons-"
"Preservation matrices," Ravensworth corrected stiffly.
"- they forget that art, like magic itself, should breathe."
"Perhaps," Ravensworth said with forced brightness, "you'd like to see our latest acquisition? The Department recently approved a new preservation technique-"
"Approved?" Wematanye's gentle tone sharpened slightly. "Like they 'approved' removing the living-smoke paintings from the Apache delegation last month?"
"Those were unstable-"
"They were sacred art pieces, Sarah. Meant to change with the seasons."
Harry watched the exchange with growing interest. It reminded him of Perenelle's dismissal of the ring-magic in Zanzibar - different cultures all certain their way was best.
"Mr. Potter," Ravensworth turned to Harry, clearly trying to change the subject. "We've heard reports about your wandless fire magic. Perhaps you'd consider a demonstration? Under properly controlled conditions, of course."
"The boy isn't one of your research subjects, Sarah," Wematanye said quietly.
"Of course not! But surely you understand our interest in such unique abilities? Properly documented and regulated-"
"Like you 'documented' young Running Cloud's spirit-walking?" There was nothing gentle about Wematanye's tone now. "Until the poor boy was afraid to close his eyes at night?"
Nicolas stepped forward. "Perhaps we should continue our tour? I believe there were some interesting pieces in the next gallery..."
"Yes, of course," Ravensworth straightened her robes. "The next gallery showcases our modern preservation techniques. All completely certified by MACUSA's Department of-"
A sudden commotion from the previous room interrupted her. Two wizards in official-looking robes burst in, wands raised. "Unauthorized magic detected! Multiple violations of-"
They stopped short at the sight of Master Wematanye, who merely raised an eyebrow.
"Ah," the first wizard lowered his wand slightly. "Master Wematanye. We detected unregistered magical artifacts being used near preserved artworks."
"My dreamcatcher," Wematanye held up the simple wooden hoop. "Made by my grandmother's grandmother. Would you like to explain to the tribal council why you're classifying sacred items as 'unregistered artifacts'?"
The second wizard shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, the regulations clearly state-"
"The Treaty of 1877 clearly states," Wematanye's voice carried quiet authority, "that traditional items are exempt from MACUSA's registration requirements."
"Actually," Perenelle said firmly, placing a protective hand on Harry's shoulder, "I believe we've seen enough of the magical wing for today."
"But you haven't even witnessed our new preservation matrix in action!" Ravensworth protested. "Mr. Potter's flames would be perfect for testing the containment fields-"
"Testing?" Wematanye's voice was dangerously soft. "So now you admit you want to experiment on the boy's magic?"
The two MACUSA officials shifted their stance slightly, wands not quite pointed at anyone but definitely ready. One of them touched something on his collar - probably calling for backup.
"It's purely for documentation purposes," Ravensworth said quickly. "Think of the advances we could make in understanding controlled wandless magic at such a young age! He's not even eight years old! With proper regulation and study-"
"Like the 'studies' you conducted on the Thunderbird dancers?" Wematanye's dreamcatcher was glowing now, its web casting strange shadows. "Until their magic was so confined they couldn't even summon rain?"
"That was different! They were potentially destabilizing an entire weather system-"
"They were maintaining it, as they had for generations before your regulations!"
Nicolas stepped forward, his usual gentle demeanor replaced with something harder. "We are leaving now. Harry is a child, not a research subject."
"But the potential-" Ravensworth started.
"Is none of your concern," Perenelle finished coldly. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
Three more MACUSA officials appeared at the doorway, called by their colleague's signal. The crystal-suspended artworks began to vibrate slightly from the growing magical tension in the room.
"The boy's abilities must be properly documented," Ravensworth insisted. "Controlled wandless magic of this scale-"
"Is none of your business," Nicolas's voice carried the weight of centuries. "Unless you'd like to explain to Albus Dumbledore why you're harassing his student?"
The name drop caused several officials to step back slightly.
"Or perhaps," Perenelle added with deadly sweetness, "you'd prefer to discuss this with Nicolas Flamel directly? I'm sure my husband would be fascinated by your views on... containing magic."
The officials' eyes widened as they finally recognized who they were confronting. Ravensworth went pale.
"Mr. and Mrs... oh dear."
"Indeed," Nicolas smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Now, we're going to leave. Harry will not be participating in any 'studies' or 'documentation.' Any attempts to follow or monitor him will be considered a direct challenge to his guardians' authority. Are we clear?"
"But the regulations-" one brave official started.
"Do not supersede international law regarding the treatment of magical minors," Perenelle cut in. "Unless MACUSA wants an international incident?"
The MACUSA officials exchanged glances before slowly lowering their wands. Ravensworth seemed to deflate.
"Of course," she said stiffly. "We apologize for any... overenthusiasm in our duties. You understand we must be thorough in these matters."
"Thorough, not invasive," Nicolas corrected firmly. He turned to Wematanye, who had been watching the exchange with quiet approval. "Master Wematanye, it was an honor to meet you."
The old wizard inclined his head. "The honor is mine. Take care of your young fire-painter. Some flames are meant to burn free."
Harry, who had been quiet throughout the confrontation, looked up at Nicolas. "Can we go now?"
Perenelle laughed, the tension breaking. "Yes, dear. I believe we've had quite enough of magical politics for one day."
They left the magical wing, the MACUSA officials parting to let them pass. As they exited, Harry heard Wematanye's voice drift after them:
"Remember, Sarah - not everything magical needs to be put in a box and labeled."
Back in the regular museum, Harry relaxed. "That was really... too much."
"Indeed," Nicolas agreed. "Though perhaps we should focus on more enjoyable activities? I heard there's an interesting muggle entertainment park in Florida..."
oo0ooOoo0oo
Another portkey brought them to Florida, where the air felt like walking through warm soup. Harry stared at the enormous castle ahead of them, though compared to Hogwarts it looked a bit artificial.
"Disney World," Nicolas announced proudly. "The muggles call it the most magical place on Earth."
"Really?" Harry looked skeptical.
"Well, their version of magical," Perenelle smiled, casting a charm on Chrysa. The spell would make muggles' eyes slide right past the 'kitten' unless they really focused. "Though some of their rides are quite clever."
The entrance was crowded with families wearing colorful clothing and mouse-ear hats. Harry watched in fascination as a large boat filled with people disappeared into a tunnel labeled 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.
"How do they make things move without magic?" he whispered to Nicolas.
"Motors, gears, hydraulics..." Nicolas grinned at Harry's blank look. "Think of it as very complicated clockwork. You'll see inside."
A worker in a striped vest directed them toward their first ride. "Space Mountain?" Harry read the sign dubiously. "What's a roller coaster?"
Five minutes later, he had his answer. The cart clicked slowly up the track in complete darkness, and Harry could hear Chrysa purring excitedly beside him.
"This isn't so-" Harry started to say.
The cart dropped.
They plunged into darkness, bursts of starlight flashing past as they twisted and turned. Harry's reflexes let him anticipate each curve, his body moving smoothly with the coaster instead of being thrown around.
"This is brilliant!" he shouted over the rush of wind. Chrysa's purring had turned into an excited rumble that probably would have terrified the other passengers if they could hear it over their screaming.
The track swooped up, giving them a split-second view of the entire room filled with streaking lights before they plunged down again. Harry found himself laughing - it was almost like flying, but with no need to do the work himself.
When they corkscrewed through a field of shooting stars, Harry raised his hands in delight, completely stable even without holding on.
The ride ended too soon. They went back into daylight, Harry's hair even messier than usual and his green eyes bright with excitement.
"Can we go again?" he asked immediately.
"There are other rides too," Perenelle laughed, smoothing down her own windblown hair. "Though I noticed you didn't seem very thrown around by the movement..."
"It's not too bad," Harry shrugged. "Just need to move with it instead of fighting it."
"Can we go to the next ride?" Harry continued hopefully. He'd spotted something called 'Big Thunder Mountain' in the distance.
His eyes darkened.
[Claws - Jujutsu Kaisen V2.5] – Costs 100CP, 250CP available to spend.
You can turn your fingertips into claws. That's it. Nothing insane but useful for someone who goes for close quarters combat.
Harry barely glanced at the new offer. Claws? That sounded ridiculous - he could already transform into an eagle if he needed talons, and Chrysa had plenty of claws to spare. He dismissed the offer immediately and focused on more important things, like convincing Nicolas to let them ride Thunder Mountain three times in a row.
The day passed in a blur of motion and laughter. They rode through haunted mansions where Harry critiqued the "ghost effects" as "pretty good for muggles, but nothing like the Hogwarts ghosts." The Jungle Cruise made Chrysa perk up every time they passed mechanical big cats, though she seemed unimpressed by their stiff movements.
In Frontierland, Harry discovered corn dogs ("But why put it on a stick?") and cotton candy ("It's like edible clouds!"). They watched fireworks explode over the castle as the sun set, and Harry had to admit that even without magic, muggles had figured out how to create some pretty amazing things.
"Better than the museum?" Perenelle asked as they headed toward the exit. Harry was wearing Mickey Mouse ears that Nicolas had insisted on buying, and Chrysa had somehow acquired a small princess crown that balanced precariously between her ears.
"Much better," Harry grinned. "Though I still think magical art is more interesting."
"Of course it is," Nicolas agreed. "But sometimes it's good to see how others create wonder without magic. Ready to head back?"
Harry nodded, exhausted but happy. They left, but he glanced back at the illuminated castle one last time. "You know... for muggles, they did a pretty good job making things magical."
"That they did," Perenelle smiled. "That they did."
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