This story contains slash, specifically the Harry/Ron pairing, as well as
some OFC/OFC. You don't like it, go away. You do like, speak friend, and
enter. (LotR reference).
This story is set in Australia. I'm horrid at naming things (I once had a toy rabbit called Rabbit, and I was about eight at the time). As a result, everything is named after Aussie flora or fauna, and any clearly Aboriginal personal name has been borrowed from someone famous, for example the Namatjira family: Albert Namatjira, an artist; Oodgeroo Snape (nee Namatjira): Oodgeroo Noonuccal, writer formerly known as Kath Walker. The Gumtree (Australian Wizard school) school houses are Taipan (Slytherin), Wombat (Hufflepuff), Kangaroo (Gryffindor), and Cockatoo (Ravenclaw). Many of the Aboriginal myths and customs I use are from the book 'Stradbroke Dreamtime' by Kath Walker/Oodgeroo Noonuccal.
Disclaimer: It's not *my* sandbox, Ms Rowling. I know in theory this disclaimer offers me no legal protection, but it would be nice if you didn't sue me for writing this. Mind you, I think you'd have trouble finding me if you did want to sue, and I don't have anything worth taking except a portable stereo, a winter jacket, a watch, and a very cheap portable CD player. I have an income of just $AU50 a week, most of which goes on food or bus fare.
Love and Gumtrees.
"Aisha!" An Aboriginal boy of about fifteen called across the currently not in use Quidditch pitch to his friend.
Aisha, a pretty young Arab woman about the same age as the boy, and the rather scrawny white tomboy accompanying her, looked over to him.
"Where ya bin, Kyle?" called the white girl.
"Principal Phillips' office, Kel," replied Kyle, when he caught up to them. "I had to talk to Dad, and he and Mrs Phillips were arranging something with Professor Dumbledore, from iHogwarts/i," he stopped to pant. "Harry Potter might be coming here to keep him safe from He Who Must Not Be Named!"
*****
The same time of day, local time, on the other side of the world.
"Potter, get the door," Dudley Dursley snapped at Harry.
Harry walked to the front door, and opened it.
"Hello Professor Snape," he found himself saying, to his complete surprise.
"Potter, are your aunt and uncle in?" Snape asked.
Harry shook his head. "What did you want?"
"The Headmaster sent me to talk to them. He has a plan to keep you safe since the Dark Lord has returned, but he needs their permission."
"Why?"
"He plans to send you to Australia."
"I think you had better come in," Harry found himself saying.
"Who's at the door, Potter?" asked Dudley, who'd come to investigate, once Harry had gotten his teacher inside. The diet he'd started the previous year had worked, and as a result he wasn't anywhere near as large as he'd been before, although still unusually beefy.
"Dudley, this is Professor Snape, a teacher at my school. Professor, this is my cousin Dudley Dursley."
"Oh, so he's here to see you. What's he teach?"asked Dudley.
"Potions. And he's here to see your parents, although it's about me."
Dudley smirked. "What'd he do wrong? He only came back yesterday."
"Despite your cousin's penchant for rule breaking, Dursley, this visit is about Potter's safety, not any infraction of Hogwarts' rules or Wizarding law."
"What's ihe/i need keeping safe from, anyway?" asked Dudley with a sneer. "Apart from Mumsy and dad when they find out he let you into the house."
"The Dark Lord and his followers, Dursley. He Who Must Not Be Named is as determined to kill Potter as he was 14 years ago, before Potter proved his downfall, by mere fortuitous chance most likely."
"Who?" asked Dudley.
"Dudley," said Harry, "think Hitler. Add magic, only this time it's Muggles he doesn't like, not Jews."
Dudley blanched considerably.
"A Dark Wizard only needs his wand and a simple incantation to kill, too," added Harry, feeling vindictive.
Dudley fainted.
"Would you like to sit down in the living-room, Professor, and wait for my Aunt and Uncle to get back?" Harry asked Snape.
**********
Back in Australia...
"Kyle Snape, 2 Points from Cockatoo house for inattention. Now pay attention, or it'll be more, I'm trying to teach you," the teacher, a rather grizzled Aboriginal wizard, said to Kyle, who'd been talking to Aisha.
"Yes Grampa, it's just tea leaves are a very iwhite/i method of divination."
"You're not the only child in my class, Kyle. There are five people in this class with no Aboriginal blood at all, and iyou/i have a British father in case you've forgotten."
"Sorry Grampa."
"Perhaps you'd better Floo to the UK and apologise to your Snape Grandfather, or is Floo too Caucasian a Magic for you?"
"I get the point Grampa."
"Well, what is it?"
"Our quality of life has improved markedly since the whole invasion-thingy even if we didn't want them here in the first place, and it's a bit silly to be racist towards half your heritage," said Kyle, with the air of someone repeating their times-tables.
"Finish drinking your tea, Kyle. I want to know if you're going to die soon," interrupted Kel. Kyle shot her a death glare.
"I'm not complaining Mr Namatjira, but couldn't we have had this lesson in a classroom, instead of out here? This sun's no good for me," another white girl, a blonde one, whined in a rather English sounding accent.
Kel raised an eyebrow. "I'm out here, aren't I? Besides, it's the day before the winter holidays start. I hate to think what you'd be like in February."
"Kelsie, you're a vampire. I know you can make potions to deal with that, but I'm an English rose!" whined the blonde.
"Maria Malfoy, Kelsie Snape, 10 points each from Taipan. Now get on with it," said Mr Namatjira. "Perhaps you had better bring a parasol to your next outdoor lesson, Maria, to protect your oh-so-delicate skin. Are there any Veela in your family?"
"Of course not! The Malfoys are pureblood to the core!"
"In other words, inbred," remarked an Aboriginal boy.
"Matthew Namatjira..."
"Sorry Grampa!"
*******
Harry stumbled out the international floo fireplace in the Ministry of Magic, Canberra, after accidently detouring via Austria iand/i New Zealand.
"What took you so long?" asked Ron with a grin.
"Remember when I got lost on the way to Diagon Alley? Same thing, only I can't walk here from Wellington or Vienna like I could from Knockturn Alley."
"No, it is a bit far. You have trouble with Floo, then Harry?" said a wizard who looked like an older, tanned, less sour version of Professor Snape. Since Harry had been told they were staying with Professor Snape's brother, Harry wasn't that surprised. He was standing beside their trunks.
"Perhaps we had better catch a Muggle bus to Wattle Crescent, then, and we can arrange a portkey to Gumnut village from there. I can get Missy, my house elf, to come pick the trunks up."
"Yeah, cool," enthused Ron, clearly excited about using Muggle transport.
"Oh, good," said Harry faintly, still feeling queasy from his three leg long-distance floo journey.
Much like the the portkey journey to the Quidditch World Cup nearly a year ago, Ron managed to land on Harry as they landed. It ifelt/i different this time, though. It felt warm, and nice, and rather tingly, the same sort of tingly Harry usually felt when thinking about Cho, or the few times he'd touched himself late at night. When Ron got to his feet, and helped Harry to his own, he was clearly bright red, but Harry immediately dismissed the momentary notion the landing having the same affect on Ron as it had had on himself was the reason Ron was blushing. Harry spent the walk from the village square, where the portkey had landed them, to Mr Snape's house ignoring Mr Snape's commentary, and telling himself strictly that he was inot /i gay. No way, no how. He liked Cho, didn't he?
Next chapter: Kelsie and Kyle make bad first impressions, and what is a Malfoy doing in the colonies, anyway? Apart from fulfilling the whingy pom stereotype, that is.
See the blue button down there? *Points down* Please feed the Author.
This story is set in Australia. I'm horrid at naming things (I once had a toy rabbit called Rabbit, and I was about eight at the time). As a result, everything is named after Aussie flora or fauna, and any clearly Aboriginal personal name has been borrowed from someone famous, for example the Namatjira family: Albert Namatjira, an artist; Oodgeroo Snape (nee Namatjira): Oodgeroo Noonuccal, writer formerly known as Kath Walker. The Gumtree (Australian Wizard school) school houses are Taipan (Slytherin), Wombat (Hufflepuff), Kangaroo (Gryffindor), and Cockatoo (Ravenclaw). Many of the Aboriginal myths and customs I use are from the book 'Stradbroke Dreamtime' by Kath Walker/Oodgeroo Noonuccal.
Disclaimer: It's not *my* sandbox, Ms Rowling. I know in theory this disclaimer offers me no legal protection, but it would be nice if you didn't sue me for writing this. Mind you, I think you'd have trouble finding me if you did want to sue, and I don't have anything worth taking except a portable stereo, a winter jacket, a watch, and a very cheap portable CD player. I have an income of just $AU50 a week, most of which goes on food or bus fare.
Love and Gumtrees.
"Aisha!" An Aboriginal boy of about fifteen called across the currently not in use Quidditch pitch to his friend.
Aisha, a pretty young Arab woman about the same age as the boy, and the rather scrawny white tomboy accompanying her, looked over to him.
"Where ya bin, Kyle?" called the white girl.
"Principal Phillips' office, Kel," replied Kyle, when he caught up to them. "I had to talk to Dad, and he and Mrs Phillips were arranging something with Professor Dumbledore, from iHogwarts/i," he stopped to pant. "Harry Potter might be coming here to keep him safe from He Who Must Not Be Named!"
*****
The same time of day, local time, on the other side of the world.
"Potter, get the door," Dudley Dursley snapped at Harry.
Harry walked to the front door, and opened it.
"Hello Professor Snape," he found himself saying, to his complete surprise.
"Potter, are your aunt and uncle in?" Snape asked.
Harry shook his head. "What did you want?"
"The Headmaster sent me to talk to them. He has a plan to keep you safe since the Dark Lord has returned, but he needs their permission."
"Why?"
"He plans to send you to Australia."
"I think you had better come in," Harry found himself saying.
"Who's at the door, Potter?" asked Dudley, who'd come to investigate, once Harry had gotten his teacher inside. The diet he'd started the previous year had worked, and as a result he wasn't anywhere near as large as he'd been before, although still unusually beefy.
"Dudley, this is Professor Snape, a teacher at my school. Professor, this is my cousin Dudley Dursley."
"Oh, so he's here to see you. What's he teach?"asked Dudley.
"Potions. And he's here to see your parents, although it's about me."
Dudley smirked. "What'd he do wrong? He only came back yesterday."
"Despite your cousin's penchant for rule breaking, Dursley, this visit is about Potter's safety, not any infraction of Hogwarts' rules or Wizarding law."
"What's ihe/i need keeping safe from, anyway?" asked Dudley with a sneer. "Apart from Mumsy and dad when they find out he let you into the house."
"The Dark Lord and his followers, Dursley. He Who Must Not Be Named is as determined to kill Potter as he was 14 years ago, before Potter proved his downfall, by mere fortuitous chance most likely."
"Who?" asked Dudley.
"Dudley," said Harry, "think Hitler. Add magic, only this time it's Muggles he doesn't like, not Jews."
Dudley blanched considerably.
"A Dark Wizard only needs his wand and a simple incantation to kill, too," added Harry, feeling vindictive.
Dudley fainted.
"Would you like to sit down in the living-room, Professor, and wait for my Aunt and Uncle to get back?" Harry asked Snape.
**********
Back in Australia...
"Kyle Snape, 2 Points from Cockatoo house for inattention. Now pay attention, or it'll be more, I'm trying to teach you," the teacher, a rather grizzled Aboriginal wizard, said to Kyle, who'd been talking to Aisha.
"Yes Grampa, it's just tea leaves are a very iwhite/i method of divination."
"You're not the only child in my class, Kyle. There are five people in this class with no Aboriginal blood at all, and iyou/i have a British father in case you've forgotten."
"Sorry Grampa."
"Perhaps you'd better Floo to the UK and apologise to your Snape Grandfather, or is Floo too Caucasian a Magic for you?"
"I get the point Grampa."
"Well, what is it?"
"Our quality of life has improved markedly since the whole invasion-thingy even if we didn't want them here in the first place, and it's a bit silly to be racist towards half your heritage," said Kyle, with the air of someone repeating their times-tables.
"Finish drinking your tea, Kyle. I want to know if you're going to die soon," interrupted Kel. Kyle shot her a death glare.
"I'm not complaining Mr Namatjira, but couldn't we have had this lesson in a classroom, instead of out here? This sun's no good for me," another white girl, a blonde one, whined in a rather English sounding accent.
Kel raised an eyebrow. "I'm out here, aren't I? Besides, it's the day before the winter holidays start. I hate to think what you'd be like in February."
"Kelsie, you're a vampire. I know you can make potions to deal with that, but I'm an English rose!" whined the blonde.
"Maria Malfoy, Kelsie Snape, 10 points each from Taipan. Now get on with it," said Mr Namatjira. "Perhaps you had better bring a parasol to your next outdoor lesson, Maria, to protect your oh-so-delicate skin. Are there any Veela in your family?"
"Of course not! The Malfoys are pureblood to the core!"
"In other words, inbred," remarked an Aboriginal boy.
"Matthew Namatjira..."
"Sorry Grampa!"
*******
Harry stumbled out the international floo fireplace in the Ministry of Magic, Canberra, after accidently detouring via Austria iand/i New Zealand.
"What took you so long?" asked Ron with a grin.
"Remember when I got lost on the way to Diagon Alley? Same thing, only I can't walk here from Wellington or Vienna like I could from Knockturn Alley."
"No, it is a bit far. You have trouble with Floo, then Harry?" said a wizard who looked like an older, tanned, less sour version of Professor Snape. Since Harry had been told they were staying with Professor Snape's brother, Harry wasn't that surprised. He was standing beside their trunks.
"Perhaps we had better catch a Muggle bus to Wattle Crescent, then, and we can arrange a portkey to Gumnut village from there. I can get Missy, my house elf, to come pick the trunks up."
"Yeah, cool," enthused Ron, clearly excited about using Muggle transport.
"Oh, good," said Harry faintly, still feeling queasy from his three leg long-distance floo journey.
Much like the the portkey journey to the Quidditch World Cup nearly a year ago, Ron managed to land on Harry as they landed. It ifelt/i different this time, though. It felt warm, and nice, and rather tingly, the same sort of tingly Harry usually felt when thinking about Cho, or the few times he'd touched himself late at night. When Ron got to his feet, and helped Harry to his own, he was clearly bright red, but Harry immediately dismissed the momentary notion the landing having the same affect on Ron as it had had on himself was the reason Ron was blushing. Harry spent the walk from the village square, where the portkey had landed them, to Mr Snape's house ignoring Mr Snape's commentary, and telling himself strictly that he was inot /i gay. No way, no how. He liked Cho, didn't he?
Next chapter: Kelsie and Kyle make bad first impressions, and what is a Malfoy doing in the colonies, anyway? Apart from fulfilling the whingy pom stereotype, that is.
See the blue button down there? *Points down* Please feed the Author.