Star the HedgeCat’s A/N:

Hooray! Chapter 1 is here!

Lol

And I hope everyone thoroughly enjoys it!

P.S.

AmyCoolz is not here at the moment, as she has gone on a trip with her mother to go to the family reunion!

X3

She’ll be back in a week!

:3

Addled Americans

The Floo Powder tickled my nose, but other than that I was fine. I brushed off my jeans, amused by the open-mouthed shock of the desk clerk. I had been told that witches and wizards tended to wear cloaks and robes when visiting Diagon Alley, and here I was in the Muggle attire of jeans I had cut up to just below the knee and an oversized T-shirt that read “PARENTAL ADVISORY: I am Loud.” Which was perfectly true for me.

Someone appeared behind me as I tied my hair into a loose ponytail. “What took you?”

“My stupid mom! She was nagging me about behaving myself and crap.”

My smile was sympathetic. “Again?”

“Yeah! Again!” Her blue-brown eyes, which she insisted were not hazel, flickered in annoyance.

“Just think, Ames, we’re an entire ocean away.”

“Yeah, thank God.”

Laughing, I walked up to the front desk. The clerk was still slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Since Amy was wearing tattered jeans and a Yankees T-shirt, it now appeared that two foreign teenage Muggles had figured out how to use Floo Powder.

“Hey there. I’m Sylvia Walka and this is Amy Schwartz. Our room is-” I checked the back of my hand, where I wrote all important details- “212, second floor. Our stuff was already sent.”

“Ah.” After a quick, relieved, check of his references, he nodded. “You are the transfer witches, correct?”

“You bet.”

“No, miss, I do not. Gambling is strictly prohibited on the premises.”

It took both of us a moment to realize he was being perfectly serious. After rolling our eyes, we each took a key from the clerk and went into the elevator.

The tiny man inside asked where we were off to and we were almost instantaneously at our room. “Cool.” Amy stepped off first while I handed the operator a sickle as a tip. “Where’s all the stuff?” Amy demanded once the elevator whisked away.

“Check the drawers and such,” I suggested with a yawn. I had not slept at all the night before due to excitement, so I was understandably exhausted.

“Holy crap, man, everything’s perfect!”

“Okay.” I flopped onto the closest bed and, only because I feeling lazy, used magic to change into my pj’s.

Not five minutes later there was an incessant tapping on the window. I only grumbled, half asleep, and soon I heard the window open. An envelope landed on my stomach and I opened it. As the letter inside was addressed to us both, I read it aloud.

To Ms. Sylvia Walka and Ms. Amy Schwartz,

While any magic up to this point has been tolerated and ignored, it is the Ministry’s duty to inform you girls that students of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are forbidden to perform spells during the summer months.

“That’s gay,” Amy interrupted.

“Friggin’ retarded British people,” I agreed, than continued.

If the two of you do not comply with these rules, you will both be banned from Hogwarts and sent back home.

Good luck and enjoy your stay in Great Britain.

Not caring who had written the letter, I shoved it back in the envelope, dropped it on the floor, and put a few Knuts in the bag attached to the owl’s leg. “So far, I don’t like Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

A week later…

I frowned. “You know, I would kill for a cheeseburger right about now.” We had been walking along Diagon Alley, buying the stuff on our Hogwarts list, for nearly two hours. My feet hurt and I was starving.

“Yeah, me too… Some McDonald’s or something would be good.”

“Seriously! Let’s dump this crap at the hotel and go to the Muggle side of town. There’s gotta be a place where they sell burgers!”

Amy nodded fervently. “My dad said he’d leave my car right outside the bar Diagon Alley’s connected to.”

“Pub,” I corrected. “And it’s an inn called the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Whatever, I don’t give a crap.” She walked off, dragging her cauldron behind her.

Rolling my eyes, but smart enough not to say anything to piss her off, I followed.

Later…

An hour had passed and my stomach hurt, I was so hungry. A neon sign on a dilapidated building caught my eye and I told Amy to pull over. “Look! A place like that has to sell burgers!”

We went inside, eager for some decent, or at least edible, food. The maitre-de looked snobby and sniffed disapprovingly. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… We’re hungry…” I said, realizing our mistake at once.

Amy, a bit less observant, said, “Yeah, where are the friggin’ burgers?”

“Burgers?” The maitre-de looked down his severely straight nose at us. “We do not serve burgers.”

This news served only to infuriate my friend. “Well, what the hell do you serve?”

“Only the finest-“

“Yeah, Amy, let’s just go,” I interrupted. Who wanted to listen to such a pompous ass anyway?

So we left and Amy drove around for what seemed like hours before we found ourselves on Privet Drive. Both of us were nearly dieing of starvation – or felt like we were – and there was still no sign of the familiar golden arches. We were furious.

“Where. Are. Thefuckingburgers?!”

I sighed, silently agreeing with the frustrated tone. “Pull into this random driveway, Amy. We’ll ask the, hopefully, nice people inside.”

We got out of the car when she did pull over and walked up to the door. Only to ensure that someone would answer the door we knocked and rang the doorbell incessantly. After a minute or so, a rather thin boy with shaggy, unkempt black hair and glasses answered.

He was cute enough and looked to be around our age, so I grinned and immediately began interrogating him. “Dude, do you know where the burgers are?”

Beside me, Amy could not contain herself. “Wherearethefuckin’burgers?!”

At this outburst, the boy looked rather confused and a bit overwhelmed by our sudden appearances and accents. “What are you talking about?”

I cocked my head, confused. I thought it was rather obvious. “You know, food?”

“Yeah! Sustenance!” Amy chimed in.

I grinned. “The preserver of life!”

“¡La comida!” Amy shouted, pointing a finger into the air. Having to take two languages at our old school, Opulent, Amy had chosen Spanish and was damn good at it, I thought. I, however, had chosen French. Spanish was stupid.

In unison we said, “FOOOOD!!!!!”

Finally, the message seemed to get through to the boy. “Um, I’m not sure where the nearest fast food restaurant is…” He pushed back thick, dark bangs and a lightning bolt scar just over his eye caught my interest. Not because I recognized it or anything, but because it was just really cool looking. “My uncle or aunt might know…” he told us, dropping his hand.

“What might they know, Harry?” A rather large, round boy about the same age took a look at us and shoved the first boy - Harry apparently - out of the way. “Well, hello there,” he greeted in what I was sure he thought of as a sexy leer. I thought it was rather creepy and pig-like.

Amy and I exchanged looks, deciding that not only was this guy fat and ugly but he was one heck of a pompous jerk. But still, we asked, “Do you know where the burgers are?”

Now it was his turn to look confused. “What?”

“You know, food?” I asked again

Picking up on my deliberate repetition, Amy said, “Yeah! Sustenance!”

“The preserver of life!” I shouted.

“¡La comida!”

Once again we said “FOOOOD!!!!!” as one voice.

The fat boy still looked quite confused, but he looked over his shoulder and called out, “Mum! When do we eat?”

'Mum,' I repeated silently. Britain's got such cool accents!

“Very soon, Duddykins!” a shrill, feminine voice screeched.

“Can these girls eat with us? They’ve got funny accents.”

“We do?” I wondered aloud.

“The hell we do!” Amy denied.

An almost identical copy of the fat boy appeared behind him. Amy and I had to bite our lips to keep from laughing aloud. “Where are you from?” he queried.

Amy and I grinned identical evil grins, deciding that this was the perfect moment to announce our rehearsed speech; we had figured it out in the car to take our minds off our hunger. “South of Canada!” I began.

“North of Mexico!” Amy added.

“The United friggin’ States of North America!” we pealed off together.

“Drop the friggin’-” Amy practically sang.

“-And leave out the North!” I finished.

“Hi!” We burst out laughing, glad that minutes of practice had paid off.

The fat man, the fat boy’s father and Harry’s assumed uncle, peered at us through narrowed eyes. I was not sure what he was so suspicious about. Just because we were strangers – and foreigners to boot – that just showed up on his doorstep was no cause for caution.

But the fat boy had no such suspicions. “Dad, can these foreigners eat with us?”

“We’re not foreign…” Amy grumbled.

Soon…

As the British family had decided to allow us to join them for dinner, we were side-by-side at the table, Dudley next to me, then Vernon, then Harry, then Petunia, then Amy. The food was pretty bland, and certainly not burgers, but it was kind of enjoyable. And when one is as hungry as I was at that moment, anything tasted good.

But I did notice something rather odd about this family. No one seemed to be talking to Harry and he apparently had a different surname, as Vernon or Dudley would often refer to him as “Potter” when they asked him to pass them something. The boy himself looked rather miserable and seemed eager to get away from the table.

As his eyes glazed over, I deduced that he was thinking about something else and scooted just a little farther away from Dudley. The boy had an awful smell and an air about him that suggested undeserved arrogance.

Harry stood, but I did not pay any attention until I heard Amy say, “Harry, we can see your wand.” I snickered at the tent that had appeared at Harry’s groin area when he had stood up to – I assumed – clear his plate.

But my reaction was rather different from everyone else’s. Dudley began to choke, Vernon dropped the bit of steak – yuck! – back onto his fork with a shocked gasp, and Petunia slid to the floor in a faint.

I leaned over and whispered to Amy, “Who knew boners caused so much trouble?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “Brits are weird…”

Immediately afterward, Harry dragged us up the stairs to his room. “What did you mean by ‘wand’?” he demanded.

“You had a woodie at dinner.” I snorted out a laugh. Amy had never been one to mince words.

“Just to be straight – no offense – were you thinking about a guy or a girl?” It was not meant as a bad question as I was just curious.

Next to me, Amy nodded. “Yeah, which one?”

Despite my efforts to be inoffensive, Harry looked offended. “Just…Just some girl.”

“Ooh, what was her name?” I doubted I would know her, but who knew?

“Her names’s…Uh…Ginny…”

I did not understand what his hesitation meant, but I did not care to dwell on that. The girl’s name was what caught my attention. “Ginny? That’s a weird name!”

“No, it isn’t!” Harry denied.

“Yeah, it is,” Amy argued, just for the sake of arguing, I am sure.

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

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Desperate for something to change the subject, I surveyed the room. Against the wall was a firmly closed trunk, and I doubted Harry would just open it for me to see what was inside. I saw a few books poking out from under his bed sheets and for some strange reason the words on the spines, which should have been perfectly clear since I was wearing my contact lenses, were blurred. They gave me a headache, so I turned away. “Oh, look, it’s a birdie!” Harry had a snowy owl caught in a bird cage.

“Her name is Hedwig,” Harry said, still glaring at Amy.

“That’s a weird name, too,” she taunted.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Yes, it is!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

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“Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, Ginny, and Hedwig,” I said, listing each name off on my fingers. “Why aren’t there any normal names in England? Like Ron or something?”

This seemed to catch Harry’s interest. “That’s my best friend’s name!”

I heard Amy scoff. “You have friends?”

He immediately went on the defense. “We’re mates from school!”

This fascinated me. What sort of school did Muggles go to in England? “Oh, cool. What school?”

“Ho-” he started to say, than broke off, stuttering. “St. Brutus’s.”

“Oh, dude, I thought you were gonna say Hog-”

Amy smacked a hand over my mouth. “Hogthorne! School of…Playful…Chickens!

Harry studied us as if we were insane. “…Chickens…?”

“The playful kind!” Chuckling nervously, Amy started inching towards the door, dragging me with her. “Well, we’ll see you if we get hungry again! Bye!”

I managed to tug Amy’s hand away and grinned. “Peace out!”

We ran down the stairs, not seeing any of the Dursleys about. Rather than waste time to search for them, we bolted outside and slammed into the car.

Amy gave me a pointed look once we were on the road. “‘Peace out’?”