Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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"Avada Kedavra!"

Spider-like strands of deadly green light burst forth under the darkened sky!

Dozens of chained killing curses shot out from the muzzle of a gun, its ebony barrel wrapped tightly in black cloth, leaving only the ominous black opening visible.

In the fiery glow of gunfire, the anguished cries of those facing death echoed far and wide!

In the blink of an eye, the deaths of over thirty individuals sent the bloodthirsty hounds fleeing in panic.

"Isn't it the Spear of Longinus you're after?! You worthless scum!"

"Kill me, and you can take it!"

No one could appreciate the handsome face of the speaker, but the demonic smile etched on his features burned itself into the memories of every bounty hunter present. Their hearts filled with endless regret and terror, yet greed and defiance coursed relentlessly through their veins.

*Target Name:* Voldemort

*Crimes:* Illegally infiltrating the Magical Congress of the United States (MACUSA), causing massive destruction and casualties; using the Imperius Curse to sow large-scale chaos; and stealing the Spear of Longinus.

*Bounty:* 1,500,000 Galleons (all confiscated items must be surrendered).

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*Three Hours Earlier*

"Under Articles 3, 7, and 10 of the Magical Congress Immigration Act, surrender your wand and cooperate by proceeding to the designated area for registration."

"This is your only warning."

Five ominous muzzles trained on Harry's body from all directions. The moment he crossed the barrier into North America, the patrolling Aurors spotted him. A faint magical mark had been placed on him, ensuring that as long as he remained within MACUSA's jurisdiction, his location would appear on their map.

The Aurors' cold, formulaic commands betrayed their impatience. They'd repeated the same routine countless times. Smugglers entering through the border were all too common. A month ago, Harry might not have even been worth the trouble.

"Relax, my friends."

Harry turned slowly. The dim moonlight illuminated his face—a younger version of Voldemort—with a faint, composed smile, refined and poised.

"Another pale pig," someone spat venomously from the shadows as Harry moved. "Raise your hands, kneel, and prepare for inspection!"

In this racially charged nation, such conflicts erupted daily. While higher-ups might exchange smiles for political reasons, tensions at the grassroots level were sharp and unforgiving. Tasked with a late-night operation at 3 AM, the Auror, who seemed to melt into the darkness, radiated resentment.

"Careful with your words, you black dog."

Harry's elegant smile turned cold, perfectly mimicking Voldemort's trademark expression of disdain and superiority.

"I can grant you a merciful death."

With a sharp swish, the man standing atop the high-rise disappeared. Five intersecting red beams shot through where he had been, cold sweat forming on the foreheads of the Aurors below. They had activated anti-Disapparition jinxes earlier, hadn't they?

"Looking for me?"

The mocking voice came from behind them, unmistakably belonging to the same accursed man.

Before they could react, fingers tightening on their triggers, they heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

"Expelliarmus!"

In an instant, five rapid shots of Disarming Spells struck their backs. Quick successive casting was Harry's forte. Within ten meters, his quick-draw accuracy was unparalleled.

Killing wasn't on the agenda—not yet. Despite their hostility, these Aurors were simply doing their job. Harry, a smuggler in their eyes, had no moral high ground. Still, as the Dark Lord, playing his part was essential.

The Aurors, masters of stealth in the night, used Transfiguration to cultivate an unlikely patch of farmland atop the high-rise—where they would toil, planting cotton.

"See? The only good Auror is one planting cotton. Now you understand how to spend your nights, don't you? Jumping out to scare people, especially insulting a refined Dark Lord, is simply unacceptable."

Harry calmly adjusted his collar, smoothing out its creases. If one could see through his cloak, they'd be startled to find no body beneath.

Wearing the Invisibility Cloak as an inner layer, Harry had no need to dodge those spells earlier. Fully understanding its potential, he had ensured his safety before stepping into dangerous territory.

Several Aurors silently moved to one side, and soon, the cement rooftop was covered with a thick layer of soil. They used Transfiguration to conjure hoes, removed their outer robes, and enthusiastically began tilling the newly created farmland.

Though none of them had likely ever held a hoe before, an innate instinct seemed to awaken as soon as their hands gripped the handles. Each swing of the tool filled their veins with boiling blood, as though the glory of their ancestors descended upon them in that very moment.

Satisfied with his good deed, Harry nodded in approval. Compared to their previously aimless and empty lives, the sweat they now shed surely made them feel fulfilled and happy.

With his magic surging, Harry shattered the magical mark left on his body by the Aurors. The mark, visible even to Harry's naked eye, was easy to locate and destroy. In the next instant, he disappeared from the rooftop, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

The meeting with Grindelwald's contact went smoothly. Harry used his communication device to get in touch, though this time, a simple voice call sufficed—no need for a video chat.

In the dimly lit Old Man's Diner, a few scattered lights still burned. Across the table from Harry sat a blond, blue-eyed young man in his twenties, devouring his food. Resting his chin on his hand, Harry asked with mild curiosity, "What brings you to New York? And why are you hanging out in Chinatown, stuffing your face?"

"Where else in New York can you find a decent midnight snack?" The blond set down his fork, covering a satisfied burp with one hand. "I haven't had a proper meal in over a month. That guy I've been chasing is too slippery."

As he spoke, a silencing charm unfolded around the two, isolating their conversation from prying ears in the corner of the diner.

"Sirius Black has been captured," the blond began. "He was trying to cross the Rockies to get to Mayapan, but what he didn't know is that MACUSA already sealed off that mountain range. A few dozen Aurors had him bound hand and foot. I'd wager he's now sitting by the Mercury Pool, getting interrogated."

"Mercury Pool?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's an execution site filled with magical mercury. The stuff is highly corrosive, melting a person from the outside in until nothing is left—not even bones. MACUSA will do anything for the Spear of Longinus."

"But didn't that thing already—"

"Exactly," the blond interrupted, "but we planted a fake one to muddy the waters further. Sirius was just unlucky. Back when we killed the real owner and took the spear, he happened to be nearby. He transformed into a dog to avoid detection and fooled everyone. But after we staged the scene and left, someone saw him. As the only survivor, who else would they suspect?"

"Besides," the blond shrugged, "Sirius really does have the Spear of Longinus on him."

"Wait, what?!" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "How did that happen?"

"We originally just wanted to stir the pot, make MACUSA and the bounty hunters turn on each other," the blond explained. "The animosity between Grindelwald's supporters and MACUSA isn't new—it's decades old. Grindelwald doesn't forgive easily, and his tolerance is extremely limited.

"On his escape route, Sirius killed four Aurors. Unfortunately for him, one of them happened to have the fake Spear of Longinus we planted. I guess his clothes got damaged during the fight, so he stripped one of the Aurors and wore their robe. The spear was in the robe's pocket, complete with a scent marker we enchanted to attract bloodhounds."

"If he weren't such a damn good runner, they'd have caught him a month ago."

Suddenly, the blond pressed his left ear, responding to a new communication. After a brief exchange of words, he turned back to Harry.

"MACUSA has already recovered the Spear of Longinus. Sirius is no longer of any use to them."

"Does that mean he's going to die?" Harry frowned deeply.

"Probably. But Sirius has deep pockets—he might survive if he coughs up a few million Galleons to buy his life."

"What a crap country," Harry spat in disdain.

"Here, there's nothing money can't buy. Welcome to the land of freedom," the blond smirked. "Seems like you're planning something?"

"Can you get me a map of MACUSA's headquarters?"

Hearing Harry's request, the blond's grin widened. "Of course, my friend."

"Oh, by the way," the blond added, "you're wanted now. There's a bounty of 5,000 Galleons, and MACUSA even posted your portrait."

He tapped the edge of his glasses. "The likeness is uncanny."

"Then do me a favor," Harry replied coldly. "Tell them my name is Voldemort. A 5,000-Galleon bounty? Insulting."

"Consider it done, my friend. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

Within five minutes, a magical 3D projection of MACUSA's headquarters arrived in Harry's hands. He quickly memorized the entire layout before burning the map to ash. The faint glow of its magic faded as the orange flames consumed it, and the night wind carried the embers away.

"Exciting," Harry murmured with a smirk.

His black cloak swirled as his figure melted into the shadows. Before the Woolworth Building, a dark silhouette became one with the night.

(End of Chapter)