American Harry Potter

Okay...so this is basically about what would happen if Harry Potter occurred in America with today's culture...not the basic "HERMIONE+RON" or other pairings, or where the author inserts a Mary Jane. No. This one...is...well...scary. D Enjoy! (as best you can!)

Some ideas contributed by Allie AKA tarotguurl, AKA "paranoid". D

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Harry and Ron were sitting outside the Seven-Eleven, gulping down a couple of slurpees. It was a bright summer day, and Harry managed to get out of the Durseley's grasp, even though it would only be for the day, to spend time with his buddy. Hermione would've gladly come along, but she was busy studying. As usual. Harry had just finished his slurpee when he noticed an enormous boy his own age, wearing an oversized T-shirt (and it was surprising how he could actually find it oversized, since he was already huge), sagging pants, and a doo-rag over his blonde head. His pale white skin was blinding in the summer sun. "Dudley," Harry muttered under his breath, before ducking behind a parked car. Fortunately, the oaf didn't notice Potter as he stepped inside the shop for junk food. "Harry? You all right?" Ron asked, giving his comrade a peculiar look.

Harry nodded, standing up. "You saw that guy who just walked in the store a second ago?" Ron nodded. "That's my cousin, Dudley. Wait, you didn't recognize him?" "THAT was Dudley? NO way!" "Well, let's get out of here before he beats the crap outta me!" The two then threw out their slushies and walked down the street as quickly as possible. "Why don't we go see how Hermione's doing with her studies?" Ron suggested, and Harry nodded. They made a left at the oddly green park and a right at an abandoned shack. Before they knew it, they were walking into a cul-de-sac with identical-style pastel houses on either side, with perfect-cut lawns and neat porches.

"Oh my god! Hermione lives here?" Harry gasped. He'd never been to Hermione's house before, so the shock of the cleanliness was a bit overwhelming for the moment. Ron nodded, his fluffy red hair bobbing up and down. "It's not all too surprising, though. I mean, she is Miss Perfect." Harry's eye twitched as they continued walking down the street. The two then stopped before a pristine white house. "Here it is," Ron said, and they stepped up to the porch. Only a second after he'd rung the doorbell, Hermione's mother answered. She was wearing a blue, flowery June Cleaver dress and lacy apron, as well as pearl earrings with a matching necklace, and black velvet heels. "Why, hello, Ron dear!" she said, flashing a sugary sweet smile at the red head. She then turned to Harry and delicately extended her right hand to him. "And you must be Harry! It's so good to meet you!" The two shook hands and Mrs. Granger stepped within the house to invite them in.

"Would you two like something to eat? I've got cookies in the kitchen." "Eh, no thank you, Mrs. Granger." Ron quickly said. "We've already eaten." "Well, okay, then. I'll call Hermione down. Just make yourselves at home!" She then scooted off into the hall. Harry gave Ron an odd look, before taking in the entry room, himself. There was a small, beige sofa with an embroidered flower print to one wall, and a white fireplace on the opposing wall. The floor was a light tan carpet, and the walls were papered with daisies. "Are we in the Twilight Zone, man?" he finally said, poking the flower-print shaded lamp by the sofa. Before Ron could answer, though, Hermione came into the room. She contrasted greatly with her environment: she wore a black shirt, black headband, black sweater, black skirt, black stockings, and a pair of black combat boots. "Hermione, you actually live here?" Harry blurted, but she only rolled her eyes. "Come on, you two!" She led the way outside, with her friends close behind.

Harry was still shivering even as they were two blocks away from the perfect, pristine neighbourhood. "Would you CUT it OUT, already?" Hermione snapped. She slapped her hand on the back of Harry's fluffy black head. After walking another five minutes, Ron said loudly, "Man, I'm bored!" Harry and Hermione looked at him, and then down the road ahead. "Well, I certainly don't know what to do," Hermione said with a grim expression. "I know!" Ron said, answering his own cry for entertainment. "How about we go to the dance club down the street? You know the one I'm talkin' about, right Harry?" Ron gave his buddy and sharp punch on the arm. Harry nodded, wincing from the sudden strike. "It's for us teenagers, so no creepy old guys should be there."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, when something shrilly cried, "HAAAARRRY POTTER!" The trio quickly spun around to find a small human-like creature, about a foot tall, with a long, beaked nose and red, bloodshot eyes. His strawberry blonde hair was rather long and nappy, and a green bandana was tied around his head. He wore what looked like a tie-dye dress, and was barefoot. "Hey, man!" he said, in his tiny little voice, bowing down before the boy. "I'm, like, Dobby, and I'm here to give you this message." Hermione sniffed the air, but didn't say anything, otherwise. Ron was staring at the creature, boggled. Harry already knew the house elf, but didn't want to interrupt. "So, dude, you, like, totally gotta see Hagrid tonight at the, uh, what's that place called?" Dobby snapped his long, bony fingers as he ransacked his mind for the name of the pub. "Oh yeah, man, it's that groovy pub that serves those spicy fries with your mug. Yeah, he said, like, to totally meet him there at, like, six o'clock."

Harry nodded, and checked his watch. He had to be at the pub in three hours, which was plenty of time, since the pub was only about two blocks away. "Now, like, I've totally gotta go before my master, like, kills me, or something." In a poof of thick smoke, the elf was gone. "That was…odd…" Ron said, after a moment of silence. "Do you know the place Dobby was speaking of?"

To be continued...

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Okay, I didn't expect to write this fan fiction either, but one day, I just started thinking... What if Harry Potter were American? I know, it's kind of crazy, but...look who the author is. (Celestial waves and flashes a big, cheesy smile.) Erm, so, if you're not completely creeped out, please rate and review! Please review constructive criticism, nothing basically consisting of "ur fanfic is stoopid" because for one thing, it's not nice; and for the other thing, it doesn't help me one bit. If you actually do enjoy this first chapter, please tell me, and I'll write more! (Now I'll definitely expect less positive reviews...) Remember, I've still got my staff! - Your author, Celestial.