The next morning, Adam and Harry are up early, their bags packed and ready for the next leg of their journey across America. Today’s destination is Washington D.C. The sun streams through the hotel lobby’s glass façade, casting long shadows as the city stirs to life. Elara, ever punctual and pressed for time, meets them briefly. Her heels click sharply against the polished floor as she approaches, her expression a mix of fondness and authority.

“Adam, a word,” she says, motioning him aside with a tilt of her head.

Her gaze softens momentarily, but there’s that familiar protective glint—the same one their mother wields so effortlessly. It’s a look that Adam has learned to both appreciate and dread.

"Expect more guards for the rest of the trip," she says, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You stirred up enough trouble in New York."

Adam follows her line of sight to the extra black SUVs idling just outside the hotel entrance. He groans audibly. The sleek, ominous vehicles seem almost excessive against the backdrop of the busy street.

"More guards? Is this really necessary?" Adam protests, running a hand through his hair. "It was one incident. One!"

Elara raises a perfectly arched brow, her smirk deepening into something more knowing. "It’s not just about the incident, Adam. You’re a Morgan. A target. Better safe than sorry." Her voice lowers, the edge of responsibility creeping in. "Besides, you know Mother would do worse if I didn’t step up security."

Adam exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. There’s no arguing with Elara when she invokes their mother’s name. “Fine,” he mutters, dragging his feet as he and Harry follow the guards outside.

The sleek black car hums with quiet efficiency as Adam slides into the leather interior. Harry, already settled beside him, watches his friend with an amused expression, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin.

"I wouldn’t mind more guards if I lived in a castle," Harry quips, his tone light. "Think of it as being royalty."

Adam leans his head back against the seat and lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah, well, royalty usually doesn’t have to deal with wizards trying to rob them in Central Park," he counters. Still, the memory of the incident—chaotic as it was—makes his lips curl into a reluctant smile.

As the convoy pulls away from the hotel, Adam gazes out the tinted window, the bustling streets of New York fading behind them.

The drive to New York Airport is remarkably smooth, a rare moment of calm in their otherwise eventful journey. Their sleek black car pulls directly into the private transit area, bypassing the chaotic terminal crowds.

The transition from car to jet is seamless. The crew, dressed immaculately in navy and gold uniforms, greets them warmly, their smiles as familiar as old friends.

Once aboard, they sink into plush leather seats that seem to mold perfectly to their forms. The faint scent of polished wood and citrus lingers in the cabin. Harry looks around, still marveling at the spacious interior, his fingers brushing the smooth armrest.

The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, crisp and professional. "Good morning, gentlemen. We’ll be arriving in Washington D.C. in approximately one hour and thirty minutes. Please relax and enjoy the flight."

Shortly after takeoff, breakfast is served. The spread is nothing short of extravagant: a basket of freshly baked pastries, vibrant fruit platters glistening with dew, and made-to-order omelets that release a tantalizing aroma. Harry’s eyes widen as he takes it all in.

"You sure know how to travel," he says, plucking a golden croissant from the basket. He tears off a piece, savoring the buttery perfection.

Adam leans back, a grin spreading across his face. "Think of it as my way of saying thanks for keeping me company. Besides," he adds with a smirk, "you deserve some luxury for putting up with me."

The jet glides smoothly through the sky, cutting through clouds like a knife through silk. Harry finishes his meal, reclining in his seat, utterly content. When the familiar outline of the Washington Monument appears on the horizon, Adam points it out, a flicker of excitement in his voice.

By the time they land, the shift in atmosphere is palpable. The vibrant chaos of New York gives way to D.C.’s stately charm. The air feels heavier here, thick with the weight of history and the unspoken influence of power. Their car takes them to an elegant hotel near the National Mall, a place where every detail exudes refinement. From their suite, the Capitol Building looms in the distance, its iconic dome framed by the setting sun.

The next few days unfold like a whirlwind of exploration. They visit the National Air and Space Museum, where Harry stares in awe at the Saturn V rocket, and the Lincoln Memorial, where the solemn grandeur of the statue leaves them momentarily speechless. At the Smithsonian, Harry’s enthusiasm is unrelenting, pausing to read every plaque, every detail. Adam watches with a mix of amusement and admiration, his friend’s fascination with the muggle side of American history both endearing and contagious.

But it isn’t just the muggle world that intrigues them. Hidden within D.C.’s historical façade lies a vibrant magical undercurrent. The city’s magical market, inconspicuously tucked away near the Library of Congress, is a treasure trove of enchantments and curiosities. Unlike the bustling chaos of new york market, this market is quieter, smaller, but meticulously secure. Aurors disguised as pedestrians patrol the cobblestone paths, their sharp eyes missing nothing. Adam notices the faint shimmer of protective enchantments woven into the bricks—silent wards to deter intruders.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"No chance of running into trouble here," Adam remarks as they wander through the narrow alleys, his gaze scanning the stalls.

"Good," Harry replies with palpable relief, stopping at a vendor’s table covered in enchanted trinkets. He picks up a charmed pocket watch, its hands moving in rhythm with a soft ticking that seems to echo their own heartbeats.

Adam purchases a set of rare enchanted quills for himself, their feathered tips shimmering faintly with magic, and a self-heating mug he knows his mother will appreciate. They linger at a modest potion shop run by an elderly wizard with a thick Southern drawl. The shelves are lined with jars and vials of every size, their contents gleaming in vibrant hues.

“Appalachian salamander dust,” the wizard says, sliding a small vial across the counter. “Rare and potent. Great for advanced brewin’ if you know what you’re doin’.”

Adam nods appreciatively and adds the vial to his purchases. As they leave the market, they can’t help but feel a deeper connection to this city. D.C. is more than monuments and politics; it’s a place where magic and history intertwine seamlessly.

Their journey continues with boundless energy and anticipation. From the historical gravitas of Washington D.C., they board the jet once more, heading for Chicago. As they descend, the city greets them with a striking panorama of unique buildings and Lake Michigan glittering like a vast, endless mirror. Adam and Harry, accustomed to the seamless elegance of magical structures, is taken aback by the boldness and ingenuity of the muggle world’s architecture.

“This is... incredible,” Adam admits, craning his neck to take in the Willis Tower looming in the distance.

Harry grins. “Wait till you try the pizza. Chicago’s deep dish is as legendary as any spell.”

That evening, they sit in a cozy pizzeria, the air thick with the tantalizing aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce. Harry dives into the oversized slice with unrestrained enthusiasm, while Adam tries to navigate the dish with a fork and knife, much to Harry’s amusement.

The city’s magical district proves equally captivating. Hidden beneath the historic Union Station, it lies behind a labyrinth of twisting brick archways. The enchanted gas lamps lining the narrow pathways flicker with a warm, golden glow, casting playful shadows on the cobblestones. Adam, ever the thoughtful brother, spots a pair of sleek enchanted gloves in a shop window—designed to withstand freezing spells. He purchases them immediately, knowing Elara will appreciate the practicality of the gift.

Their next destination is San Francisco, a city bursting with life and color. The Golden Gate Bridge shimmers under the summer sun, its iconic red-orange frame almost surreal against the deep blue of the bay. They wind through the city’s steep streets, the crisp air filled with the mingling scents of the ocean and blooming flowers.

While exploring, they stumble upon the magical community tucked beneath the historic Castro Theatre. The entrance is cleverly disguised as a forgotten staircase that seems to lead nowhere, but with the right spell, it opens into a bustling magical plaza. Here, Adam’s eyes light up as he discovers a rare book on West Coast magical creatures. He flips through the pages with uncontained excitement, his fascination drawing a chuckle from Harry.

“I swear, you’re going to open your own magical zoo one day,” Harry teases, watching as Adam carefully pays for the book.

Adam smirks, closing the leather-bound tome with a satisfying snap. “Don’t tempt me. I might just make it happen.”

Finally, their whirlwind journey ends in Orlando, where the humidity clings to their skin like a second layer. Despite the weather, Adam indulges Harry’s enthusiasm for muggle culture by spending a full day at one of the nearby amusement parks. They dart from ride to ride, Harry’s laughter echoing with every twist and turn of the roller coasters. Adam can’t help but join in, thoroughly entertained by Harry’s uncharacteristic glee.

As they step off the final ride of the day, Harry wipes his face with a grin that’s equal parts exhilaration and exhaustion.

“You enjoyed that more than you’re letting on,” Adam says, nudging him lightly.

Harry shrugs, his expression mischievous. “Maybe. But I won’t admit it to anyone else.”

By the time they return to the hotel, both are worn out but content. Orlando, with its mix of magic and muggle whimsy, feels like the perfect finale to their journey.

By mid-July, the journey comes full circle as Adam and Harry return to England. The Morgan estate greets them with its familiar grandeur, the sprawling grounds bathed in the golden glow of a warm summer night. The scent of blooming roses lingers in the gentle breeze, mingling with the faint hum of crickets hidden in the hedgerows.

Harry stretches as they step out of the car, letting out a contented sigh. “Back to reality,” he said with a grin. “I suppose I should head back to my aunt and uncle’s before they assume I’ve disappeared—even though I told them I was going on a trip with a friend. Can’t have them filing a missing persons report.”

Adam chuckles, shaking his head. “They’d probably celebrate first. But seriously, you’re welcome here anytime, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

Harry’s smile softens, his gratitude clear in his eyes. “Thanks, Adam. For everything.”

With a final wave, Harry climbs into the waiting car that will take him back to Surrey. Adam watches as the taillights fade into the distance, the quiet night wrapping around him like a comforting cloak.

Stepping into the castle, Adam is immediately greeted by his mother. Her sharp eyes scan him from head to toe, a mixture of relief and worry flickering across her face.

“I’m fine, Mum. Really,” Adam insists, raising his hands defensively. “The intruders weren’t that skilled. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Elara made it sound.”

Despite his reassurances, she brushes a hand over his shoulder, as though ensuring he’s truly in one piece. “That’s not the point,” she replies firmly. “Trouble seems to find you no matter where you go.”

The sound of footsteps echoes through the hall as his father, grandparents, and siblings appear, drawn by the news of his return. Questions fly at him—how was the trip? Did anything exciting happen? Adam raises his hands again, laughing.

“Honestly, I didn’t return from war. It was just a short vacation.”

Both Lucian and Cassandra groan in disappointment at the lack of embellishment, while his grandfather mutters something about how Adam always undersells the best stories.

Later, Adam retreats to his room, a welcome sanctuary after the whirlwind of the past weeks. He’s greeted by a soft hoot from Seraphina, his loyal owl, perched gracefully by the window. Her amber eyes glimmer in the moonlight as she ruffles her feathers, clearly pleased to see him. Hoarder, his mischievous niffler, is less patient, tugging at Seraphina’s tail feathers in a vain attempt to grab her attention.

“Leave her alone, Hoarder,” Adam chuckled, pulling out the treats he’d brought back from the States. He offered Seraphina a small morsel, which she took delicately, then handed Hoarder a sparkling gem he had picked up in San Francisco. The niffler chirped happily, clutching the gem tightly before darting off to add it to his ever-growing hoard of treasures hidden in the tree near Adam’s window.

With his companions settled, Adam collapses onto his bed, the plush mattress embracing his tired body. His eyes drift to the ceiling, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him.