AN: This chapter has been revised slightly after suggestions in comments as well as me realizing that my 2am writing still had some kinks which must be worked out. You know who is owned by JKR and everyone else is owned by me. Lyrics owned by Greenday.

Chapter 1: Welcome to "Paradise"

Dear mother,
Can you hear me whining?
It's been three whole weeks
Since that I have left your home
This sudden fear has left me trembling
Cause now it seems that I am out here on my own
And I'm feeling so alone

Nobody rushing down the busy street at that time seemed to notice that a man of about twenty-two had appeared out of thin air into the dark alleyway. He was dressed normally enough in frayed jeans and a faded black t-shirt with a pair of ancient black converse and a canvas satchel thrown over his shoulder, but his shaggy red hair and untrimmed goatee made him look worn and traveled. He quickly stuffed the thin stick of ebony that he was holding into his pocket and moved out towards the crowded street. He quickly realized that by the dress and manner of the people around him, he had not apparated into the right place and was now quite lost in the middle of an unknown country without being able to use any magic due to the swarming amounts of muggles around him.

He could not help but look up in awe at the towering office buildings around him, so closely fit that it was hard to see the smog filled sky through them. Business suits and brief cases pushed past him impatiently- their appointments were far too important to be held up by some blundering tourist. He stumbled and tried to keep out of their way but they moved at a pace that was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even while attempting to ride the London Underground. He was unaware that he had apparated himself into the middle on Wall street on a Monday at 8:30 am.

A particularly heavy shoulder knocked into him, sending his body to the ground and his satchel about three feet away, spilling clothes and a wallet across the damp cement. A man covered in three layers of clothes, regardless of the fact that it was close to ninety degrees, sidled up to the mess and started picking through it as the red head pulled himself to his feet.

"Get your hands off that, it's not a free for all," A short woman with a strong voice strode up and pushed the homeless man off of the scattered belongings. The man growled at her slightly, but moved away quickly, apparently afraid of the woman who was only half his size. "You need to watch where you're going better," she said, turning her striking green eyes towards the red head who was now hurriedly pushing his soiled wardrobe back into his bag.

The woman was actually more of a girl of what looked like eighteen, covered in piercing, she was somewhat beautiful. Admittedly, somewhat beautiful is an odd thing to call somebody, but that's what she was. She wasn't somebody to take home to your father and at first glance he would pat you on the back with pride, instead she was something that your mother would call interesting. Her lips were full, but they were unattractively chapped, and her eyes slanted in a way that hinted at some sort of exotic dissent, but they were covered in too much make up. The many silver rings and dots on her face looked out of place and her clothes were dirty and covered in holes.

"I know I was just- I was just- thank you," he let out a sigh of relief and tried to keep staring at the green eyes as opposed to the very low cut shirt that revealed three vertical surface piercings trailing into the ample crease of her chest.

"You're a long way from home, Mr. London," The girl said as she picked up his wallet and began flipping through it.

"George, my name is George," he said, not realizing that she was actually referring to his accent.

"I know that. George Weasley, six foot one," she said with a smirk, waving his wallet, which held his identification card in it, in front of his face. He grabbed it quickly and shoved it into his back pocket. "I'm Brody," she pushed her hand towards him and he took it, grateful to find someone that seemed to have time to pay attention to him.

"You wouldn't happen to know where to find the Econolodge would you?" he inquired hopefully about the hotel that he had booked for the next week of his visit.

"The one in Harlem? Honey, you're a long way from there. You must have got off on the wrong subway stop," She shook her head, creating a wave in her long auburn hair. "Look, you're going to go straight down this street and hang your first left, there is a subway station there-"

"Can you just show me?" The words exited George's mouth before he even had a chance to think about how absurd they sounded. In truth, the incident of dropping all of his belongings and almost having them stolen had shown him just how alone he was and just how strange this city really was to him. He did not feel like being left alone again in this city to undoubtedly get lost and it would be nice to have some sort of company for the walk.

"I- I don't know you ," the words were said with a mingling of annoyance and childlike innocence.

"I know, I just, I came out here without really thinking about what I was going to do for a week, and I don't know anybody out here, and I obviously can't handle myself very well," The girls eyes shifted towards the passing people and he knew that she was looking for an escape route. "Can I at least buy you breakfast for saving my stuff?"

She chewed her lip nervously for a minute, pushing the piercings with her tongue in a very unbecoming manner. "Fine. But I have a class I have to be at in Chelsea in two hours so we should head in that direction."

Without his answer she started moving in the path that she had previously started directing him. He quickly realized that it wasn't just the business suits that moved in that rude, hurried manner, but everyone in New York and even though she was at least six inches shorter than him, he had to rush to keep up with her as she dodged past groups of Japanese tourists and coffee drinking workers. George tried to be somewhat of a decent individual but couldn't help noticing the way that the short jean skirt she was wearing kept moving in a way that threatened to reveal the roundness underneath with every step she took. He ripped his eyes away from her behind long enough to walk down the subway stairs without falling and was grateful that he did as she turned quickly to him. He was pretty sure that if she had caught him looking she could have probably beaten him to a pulp if she wanted to.

"Do you have anymore rides left on your metro card or do you need to buy another one?" The language seemed somewhat foreign and with his thoughts still on the fact that it had been about five months since his break up with Alicia and he was longing for some female company, he just stared blankly at her. She asked the question again, slower this time and more impatiently.

"I-uh- my what?"

"Metrocard. Have you ever even ridden the subway before?"

"Well I rode the underground back home. I still have my pass from that if that's what you mean." He went to grab his wallet but stopped when he saw the exasperated look on her face.

"Do you have any money?"

"I have this," He pulled out a blue Visa Check Card that Hermione had set up for him before his trip because she was sure that this transfer to American Muggle money would be too much for him. Brody's eyes cast toward the Metrocard machines, where all three had lines of ten people or more, and sighed.

"We don't have time to do that crap," she mumbled with annoyance. "Look, I'll let you use one of my swipes but this better be a pretty decent breakfast."

She started off towards the turnstiles without another word and stepped into what looked like the shortest line. After swiping her way through, she handed the card to George and he silently praised the fact that he had the ability to watch and learn as opposed to most of the wizarding world when it came to muggle ways of doing things. He pushed his way through the turnstile successfully and she ripped the card from his grasp and starting walking through the tunnels, once again making her skirt do its playful dance.

After two trains and a slight queasy feeling, the two surfaced on to the normal street once again Brody turned towards George expectantly.

"So, breakfast then?"

"Um- yeah- you see I don't really live here so it would be a bit hard to pick seeing that I don't know any restaurants, at all," he scratched the back of his freckled neck with a shrug and smiled at her. She smiled back slightly and it made him feel a bit better.

"Well, judging by the fact that you're staying in Harlem, you probably don't have much money," he nodded quickly and her smile grew slightly. "There's a café about two blocks away with awesome pancakes- you guys do eat pancakes in England right?"

"No, never heard of them." It took Brody a second to realize that George was being a complete smart ass but when she did it seemed to soften her even more and she allowed herself to slow down a bit and walk closer to him as she led him to the tiny place that actually ended up being about six blocks away.

The peeling letters on the dirty window said that the place was called "Yasmine's Café." It wasn't much except for a small, single room with about four tables inside and two outside. All of the tables seemed to have some sort of grease on the them and the menu only had about fifteen items in all and most of them weren't served until after twelve. The woman behind the counter was overweight and seemed very annoyed at having to help people. George assumed that this ill-tempered woman must have been Yasmine and he hoped that the food tasted a lot better than the atmosphere it was served in. After eating many dinners in his decrepit house, however, he came to know that one cannot judge a places cooking ability by the looks of it. This was true for Yasmine's cooking too as he soon found out over a plate of pancakes and bacon.

He hadn't realized how hungry he was and after paying a minimal amount for the two meals, he began shoveling the food into his mouth in an almost animal-like fashion. A small giggle from the other side of the table reminded George that he wasn't alone and looked up to see Brody picking gingerly at her bacon.

"Do they not feed you back at home Mr. London?" she asked with a smile.

"Not at all. It's a form of vicious European torture to make us bow to the queen," he winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm so sure, that terrible pancake famine is running rampant."

"Naturally." They glanced at each other happily before returning to their food.

"So what brings you out here?" Brody finally asked after a few minutes of silence .

"Business," the word was thick through a mouthful of syrup and butter that he swallowed before finishing. "My younger sister and I own a joke shop and I'm out here to meet a business partner to exchange ideas and possible get a purchase."

This wasn't exactly the truth. For the past couple of years, George had been trying to rebuild the shop on his own after losing his brother and had finally allowed Ginny to help out after much pleading. Unfortunately, while Ginny was intelligent and just as much of a practical joker as himself, the creative process had come to a definite halt when Fred had died. George had come out here to see if he could get some aspiration. There was no waiting business partner, no promise of purchasing, just hopes that he would find something to help wake up whatever had died with Fred. He didn't really know why he had made up the last part, it just seemed important to impress this girl.

"A joke shop huh? Like whoopee cushions and jumping snakes in a can and stuff like that?" She asked with one eyebrow raise.

"Yeah, something like that, just a little more… original you could say."

While she looked intrigued, George did not reveal anymore about Weasley Wizarding Wheezes to Brody. It just seemed like a bad idea to begin describing the exact spell for the portable swamps. History had told him that any sort of reference to magic to strange muggles tending to result in a trip to a mental institution.

Instead, they talked about their families, as the youngest of two in a single father household, she was amazed at the number of siblings he had and kept asking about how his mother handled it all. He told her about England and everything there, leaving out exactly what kind of shops were on Diagon Ally and the classes that he took at his strange boarding high school. She in turn told him of life, growing up in Salem Massachusetts and moving to New York a year ago to study dance and English at some prestigious art school.

He couldn't help but notice how much she reminded him of Ginny. They were about the same age and had the same way of talking really fast when they got excited and flipping their hair. She was intelligent like Ginny and well spoken, but George was glad that his little sister hadn't adopted the same anger towards the world that this girl had. When on subjects of society or the government, her voice dripped with disdain and her forehead wrinkled with a mixture of annoyance and fury.

"Oh! I had no idea what time it was!" she said suddenly as she pulled a green plastic square out of her bag and looked at it. George recognized it as the same kind of cell-o-fono that his father had been unsuccessful at bewitching last month. He had only succeeded in making it dial a very annoyed person named "Mom" every hour on the hour without prompting.

"I really have to go, but thank you so much for breakfast," she rose hurriedly from the table and grabbed her bag, preparing to move towards the door.

"But wait! I still don't know how to get to my hotel!" George said helplessly, rushing after her.

"You're just gonna get back on the train and- and- oh you can ask someone down there, they should help!" she called before dodging between a family and disappearing down the road at top speed.

Once again plunged into complete loneliness, George sighed and began wandering aimlessly once again.

Please review and check out my other stories, additions and revisions to "Harry Potter The True Story: Book One" and "Just a Little American Quidditch" coming soon.

La Artista Di Fame.