The Entrumpet horn may have caused the most damage to the Lovegoods' house, but this was not how Harry Potter ended up concussed on the stairs. Ron and Hermione continued to fire off spells, making their way over to Harry's unconscious form. Ron narrowly dodged another piece of the ceiling falling into the parlor. He managed to yell "Reducto!" at the swiftly advancing Death Eater, but missed, shattering one of Xenophilius's odd instruments. Hermione had a better angle on the target and felled him with a Stunning Spell. Ron got the next Death Eater similarly as he almost tripped over rubble. The friends rushed to Harry. He was scratched up, but other than a nasty cut across his chin, Harry had no other external injuries. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand, pushed Harry into a seated position, and concentrated on an old campsite as the trio Apparated from the scene.

Harry's head was still spinning. How stupid was it for him to show up at the doorstep of a newspaper publisher, regardless of the weird articles he puts in the tabloid? Just because his daughter considered us as her friends doesn't mean he'd do the same. And could all three Hallows be real? The invisibility cloak from the tale fits the description of his own Cloak. If the other two existed, would Harry be able to bring back Sirius? Or his parents, he thought wistfully. Harry also had a nagging feeling that those Death Eaters weren't only after him at the Lovegoods'. Was there some secret of Voldemort's that Xeno knew? Harry calmed a bit, then wondered what curse had made him feel so groggy. A usual Stunning Spell doesn't do this. Chirps from the fauna outside pierced through the jumble of thoughts building up in Harry's brain. Maybe the woodland creatures will bring him some food if Hermione won't, Harry mused.

Admitting to himself that he was awake now, he attemped to lift his head from the pillow.The light streamed through plastic blinds, hitting his fluttering eyelids. He managed to sit up in the bed and looked around the room. He had expected to wake up in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey nervously bustling about with nostrums to cure his ails, but he had never been in this room before. He reached for his glasses and examined the room more closely. He was surrounded by posters advertising various movies, bands, cars, and sports on the walls. A mirror hung opposite the window. Strewn about the floor were copious amounts of clothes, shoes, food wrappers, and papers. Exactly like Ron's room at the Burrow, Harry thought. Then to his surprise, Harry spotted a television (which Ron wouldn't have, but maybe his dad) in the corner near a desk and chair. A computer on the desk awaited his curious fingers, which had only worked a computer keyboard when his cousin Dudley was out of the house. Harry smelled food cooking: bacon, eggs, cheese, and spices filled the room with an aromatic haze that his empty stomach could not resist.

Someone rapped on the door. A foot clad in a sandal poked into the room; a girl's head followed. "Hermi-" Harry stammered, but then he saw that the girl was not his dear friend but only a stranger. "Good, you're awake. How are you feeling? Mom and Dad have been asking a lot of questions about what happened. I have a few of my own, like 'Why did you go after me?' and 'What possible reason do you have for trying to ruin my life?' I didn't have that much to drink, so you didn't need to rescue me from horny football guys!"

Harry had a hard time focusing on what the girl was saying (in a caustic tone, he'd add), but he did take note of her appearance. She was a few years younger than him, he guessed, with stringy black hair tied in a tousled ponytail. Her lighter eyebrows loomed over speckled hazel eyes and flashes of silver shone from the braces on her teeth. Donning all black and leaning her body on the doorframe, she paused, obviously waiting for Harry to respond.

"Who are you? Where am I? What have you done to me?" Harry babbled with an escalating panic. In turn, hostility radiated from the girl.

"Excuse me? You are going to lie there and play victim to me with a British accent? Is this a joke to you? I don't care how popular you are, Jake, but I can't be your perfect sister. Look, I can't even – go, eat breakfast." She abruptly turned and stalked off.

As Elaine muttered down the hall, Harry sorted out the situation. He was not with Ron or Hermione. This girl took care of him and considered him to be her brother. Based on her accent, he's possibly in America, or at least the family is American. The sister may be upset with him for being overprotective at a party. If her parties are anything like a good post-Quidditch celebration, she would need protection, Harry grumbled to himself. From the use of electricity to the computer in the corner, Harry was confident that Muggles owned the house.

Harry stepped tentatively onto the floor and shuffled over to the mirror. He saw an unrecognizable face blanch in shock. His current body didn't look much like the "real" Harry Potter. He was now almost as tall as Ron, and could pass as a very distant cousin to the Weasleys. Unlike Elaine's lank locks, Harry's hair was buzzed short and a color between blond and red. Blue-grey eyes examined the scarless forehead, the stubble on his jaw, the bruise on his thick neck. He inhaled heavily and winced; he felt more bruises along his ribs.

"Hey, doofus, your breakfast is getting cold!" Elaine yelled. Harry sighed and pulled out some clothes from the drawer. Briefly scanning the room one more time, he detected no sign of his wand or his Mokeskin pouch. He questioned whether he could even get a replacement wand soon, not considering that he may not even be able to do magic right now. Hermione would tell him to proceed with caution, but what he was going to do next remained a mystery.

Elaine drank some coffee, sobering up by every sip. She knew she was in trouble. Jake (and his car) sustained the most damage from the accident last night. Somehow, she and Marcus remained unscathed, aside from her throwing up whatever gross beer was in that cup. Elaine racked her brain, but she couldn't remember how they or Marcus managed to get home. It'd be very bad for both her and Jake if the answers to her parents' questions were incomplete.

She shifted her attention back to Jake. This boy in front of her behaved quite unlike Jake's normal liveliness. Lost in thought, he ate just as quickly as Jake normally does, yet he held the juice glass carefully, as if he was performing for a test. After he had come downstairs, she asked him about last night, school, Mom and Dad, Marcus, anything she could think of to prove that he was her brother Jake. He kept saying he didn't know. That was terrifying.

He cleared his throat. "I'm not your brother, you know," Jake said slowly, still with that British accent. "I'm not even a Muggle, though I lived with some. I think you should know that with me around, you'll be in grave danger." He paused for a moment, setting down his fork. "Can I trust you?"

She nodded, hoping not-Jake had an explanation for her brother's whereabouts and why she was with this impostor instead of him.

He stared at her for a long time, almost as if he was looking into the deep recesses of her soul. "You can call me 'Nigel'. I am a wizard. Unless you can perform magic, too, you would be called a 'Muggle' by other wizards. As you've deduced, I am not American. Oh, by the way, where are we, exactly?"

Elaine snapped to attention. "Uh, well, we're in Euless, Texas, sitting in my kitchen," she responded casually. "Hmm," the boy breathed. He continued.

"Currently, I am fighting against an evil wizard, Lord Voldemort. He has control over most British wizarding society. My friends and I have been weakening said wizard for the past few months, at least we hope. We were gathering information from a supposed ally when we were ambushed by the Death Eaters, Voldemort's private army. I was dueling with one of them and got hit by a curse, apparently knocking me out. Then I woke up here."

Elaine was unsatisfied and a little disturbed by the story. She could tell that "Nigel" withheld most of the important details, but for what reason? Part of her really wants this story to be an extended prank crafted by Jake to make light of the massive amounts of trouble they're in with Mom and Dad. Another part of her needs to hear the rest of "Nigel's" story, no matter how ridiculous and unbelieveable it already was. Feeling now was a good time, she asked the most important questions first.

"Do you have any proof that magic exists? If so, could you turn back into my brother?" She crossed her arms, daring "Nigel" to show her some magic, right there in the kitchen. He looked at the refrigerator sheepishly.

"Er, the thing is -"

"What, didn't pack your eye of newt? Your broomstick lost its bristles? Wand missing?"

"Why, yeah! To the last one." He then concentrated on his plate under a withering glare from Elaine.

This kid is more messed up than Marcus, for Pete's sake, she silently lamented. He is going to be a disaster at school.