"I headed West I was a man on the move, London had lied to me, I needed the truth. Oh I needed somebody, I needed someone I could trust."
He had heard the same song in his mind, stuck on repeat, for the last six or so hours. Nothing else quite filled the silence of the other sleeping passengers on the plane. Nothing else quite reminded him of home, the home he had to leave. He loved England. He missed England already. Sure he had some pretty awful memories of the place. He was abused there, in his childhood home, his parents were murdered there, he had to fight and kill there, and many other exploits that shouldn't belong to a mere child.
But he was now an adult, and as much as he loved the moors and the rainy days that matched his mood and the crammed streets of London, he had to move on. He had avoided the proper goodbyes, and had not spoken to his makeshift family since his departure for India months ago. This was where he got his inspiration for away time; India was a wild place, a hot and cramped place full of so many people and religions and magics. He had the urge to travel, stronger than normal, and he needed to be ambiguous. His magic and his research were telling him it was a change of pace, and it was simply his selfish desires that kept him from contacting those important in his life. His research carried him to other places, namely the United States. His magic was pulling him across the pond, along with the urge to find new surroundings, new friends, and new ingredients for the potions he was currently developing.
Snape would have laughed in his face, if he would have known the great Harry Potter's choice of careers. But in all actuality Snape was the reason he decided to be a potions master in the first place. He had looked up to the man after snapping into reality. He never was a brat, per say, but there was quite a lot of growing up that came with killing a man and delving into his sexuality and actually getting over petty differences following the war. He respected Snape: as a soldier, as a man, and most certainly as a potions master.
The plane fumbled in the air a little, settling around the wind in a bit of turbulence. He had less than an hour on the plane until he touched ground in one the international Mecca's of the world. New York was painted to be a cultured and modern city, full of town homes and high-rises and nice businesses and varying races. These were the kinds of places he loved; Delhi, Beijing, Tokyo, etc. He knew that New York held it's circle of dark secrets, being infiltrated with its share of vampires and wolves and wizards. He planned on heading further West after a month, which was probably how long it would take him to clear customs in the wizarding world. Even though they knew he probably meant no harm, they needed to make sure he wasn't a homicidal foreign maniac before letting him traipse around the United States. He currently planned on throwing himself into travel and potions work to get rid of the early-May drearies.
The clouds were beginning dissipate as the plane neared land. Harry was tempted to pick up Snape's journal again; he had poured over it numerous times for more hints and clues, but he was largely on his own. He was trying to develop a new and improved wolfsbane potion, one that would be less painful for the weres, and one that would hurt their wolf-half less. He was also in the process of trying to find a suitable formula to make a "sunscreen" of sorts for vampires. America was sure to offer some ingredients that couldn't be found elsewhere. After his research here was concluded he would head South. Into Colombia and Chile and Peru and eventually deep inside the Amazon.
The plane violently hit the ground, jarring Harry as he held a little tighter to Snape's leather bound journal. He stared out the window at the sparkling city. There seemed to be cars still around, even though he was at the John F. Kennedy airport, seemingly thirty minutes or so out of the hustle and bustle of the actual New York City. He had decided to stay in the business district of Manhattan, being as how one of the American equivalents to the Ministry of Magic was located in that area. This made it easier for checking in to be his first order of business in the morning.
Well later in the morning, he thought as he glanced at the watch which spit 2:57 A.M. at him mockingly. He had to get his baggage, a cab, and get checked in, which meant he wouldn't be in bed until at least 4:30. He sighed and waited for first class to be boarded off, clutching Snape's journal a little tighter than necessary.