Chapter 187: The Return of Tom Riddle

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The journey from England across the Atlantic to Washington spans over 5,000 kilometers. Traveling by plane takes approximately 7 to 8 hours, while a ship would require about six days. If one opts for the latest model of the Nimbus 2001 broomstick, the trip would take around 20 hours. But what if one uses Apparition instead?

Long-distance, high-frequency Apparition is torment for most wizards. Unless absolutely necessary, no one willingly endures the awful experience. People generally prefer slower means of travel, like flying broomsticks. Those with better resources might even ride magical creatures. Thestrals are a prime choice: with saddles enchanted with wind-repelling charms, wizards can ignore the fierce gales from the Thestrals' supersonic flights. A Thestral can circle the globe two and a half times without landing, and with some extra effort, they can sustain Mach 5 speeds for three to five hours nonstop.

Portkey travel works by latching onto the part of the wizard touching the Portkey, yanking them forcefully by the navel, and completing the journey in a dizzying spin. Floo powder, by contrast, is more brutal—akin to being tossed into a tumbling washing machine. It's one of the cheapest yet most unpleasant magical transportation methods.

Apparition, on the other hand, feels like being shoved through a taut, narrow rubber tube. It's similar to being plunged deep underwater, where the crushing pressure threatens to squeeze you flat but doesn't quite manage to. The suffocating compression makes it hard to breathe, while countless streaks of light spin wildly before your eyes. Staring at them too long often causes dizziness, but closing your eyes risks missing your destination.

The longer the Apparition distance, the greater the difficulty and risk. Any loss of focus or disruption of concentration can guarantee disaster. Most wizards limit their Apparition distance to within 50 kilometers—a manageable and generally safe range.

"It's much easier than I imagined."

Standing atop the Nimbus 2001 over the ocean, Harry had just completed his ninth consecutive Apparition, each covering roughly 300 kilometers. The hardest part of transoceanic Apparition is locating your destination. The vast expanse of the ocean offers no reliable reference points. Without precise spatial awareness, a wizard could easily become lost at sea.

Harry, whose body had reached superhuman levels, had an exceptional advantage in withstanding and adapting to the crushing pressure of Apparition. His robust physique allowed him to endure the minor discomfort effortlessly. Additionally, the high-purity magical energy of an Awakener seemed to enhance his spellcasting. His Apparition was smoother, and he avoided the loud cracking sound typical of most wizards.

As he crossed time zones at high speed, the sky darkened rapidly. London's 6:00 AM became Washington's 1:00 AM. With the sunrise fading behind him, the starry night crept in. If all went smoothly, Harry would reach Washington's coast by 3:00 AM when most people were at their drowsiest. Assuming no interruptions at the border and factoring in rest breaks, he could rendezvous with Grindelwald's contact near the Rocky Mountains by 4:00 AM.

After stretching briefly and confirming his direction with a compass, Harry stowed his broomstick in his backpack. Mid-descent, he disappeared, reappearing hundreds of kilometers away.

As he approached the distant silhouette of land, Harry halted his Apparition and retrieved his broomstick, standing atop it to survey the horizon.

A faint magical barrier shimmered ahead, barely visible. If not for the pitch-black backdrop of night, Harry might not have noticed the pale blue curtain, thinner than mist.

The Magical Congress had entered a state of Level Two combat readiness. The chaos caused by the struggle for the "artifact" had thrown the region into unprecedented turmoil. More and more opportunistic wizards from across the globe had flocked to the scene. Few of those lured here by greed were of good character.

This faint barrier served as a tool for Aurors to track intruders. Anyone passing through the curtain would be marked with a temporary trace, allowing Aurors to track them in real time for up to an hour.

As the third-largest country in the world, with a population of 479 million (in this alternate world without Canada), the number of wizards in this land was more than ten times that of England. Including unregistered wizards, the number would likely double. As a haven for immigrants, many wizards fleeing from crimes elsewhere flocked here. Under the banner of "democracy and freedom," this beacon of liberty was swarming with mischief-makers like moths to a flame.

Compared to Australia, originally a penal colony, the United States—with its rich prison culture—seems to be far more appealing to these troublemakers. The "jailhouse chic" trend of sagging pants, exposing half of one's backside, has truly taken the world by storm. *Too stylish, indeed.*

Even with border inspections in full swing, the Aurors were overwhelmed. Retired Aurors were rehired at high salaries, while reservists still in training were rushed into active duty. Despite the efforts of tens of thousands of Aurors, the Magical Congress only descended further into chaos. Looting became rampant, and incidents of vandalism and theft occurred frequently. If there was ever a fitting way to describe the current state of America's magical community, "Sin City" would be spot on.

After more than two months of upheaval, the Magical Congress—teetering on the brink of collapse—finally managed to slam the brakes. As a desperate measure, they put up wanted posters for dozens of criminals, including Sirius Black, offering irresistible bounties. These rewards successfully diverted the attention of most fortune-seekers. Compared to the elusive artifact everyone was after, these criminals provided a more tangible and direct goal for those looking to cash in.

"Maybe I should get myself listed on a wanted poster too," Harry mused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Take some of the heat off Sirius."

As he was about to cross the border, a familiar figure suddenly flashed in his mind. That Hufflepuff senior he deeply admired seemed to be smiling at him. Hidden in that smile was a line:

"They're all scum. The more of them that die, the better."

"But I'm not someone who kills indiscriminately," Harry replied to the phantom in his mind, his expression twisting into an odd smile. "After all, those people are Aurors—professionals, right?"

"No, Harry, you can't think that way. Let's take another perspective," he continued, seemingly speaking to himself.

"England is America's daddy, right? A father doesn't need a reason to discipline his son, does he? If the son has become a no-good delinquent, beating him into shape is perfectly reasonable, isn't it?"

Harry's eyes suddenly sparkled as he broke into a dazzling grin, his teeth gleaming under the night sky.

"I'm abroad now—might as well cut loose since no one can stop me, right?"

Throwing on a billowing cloak that concealed his entire face, Harry downed a potion. His muscular frame began to shift and transform rapidly. Polyjuice Potion had always been the perfect tool for concealing one's identity.

"Now, call me Tom Riddle—a notorious dark wizard from England."

His handsome face, now wearing a faintly sinister smile, was the visage of Voldemort in his youth.

(End of Chapter)