Word Count: 584

So, I've signed up for the Language Club at TGS and this will be a collection of the drabbles that result from that. Basically, I get a task where I have to include a language of my choosing (I chose French) in a story according to a certain prompt. The first one is: Write a story where a character introduces themselves (or tries to) in your chosen language.

awkward introduction

There were new neighbours in Privet Drive the summer that Harry turned six.

It was pretty exciting, as it was the first time Harry could remember that something actually changed in her life. He hadn't expected as much as actually happened, but the biggest difference that had existed in Privet Drive before had been the various boyfriends of the teenage girl in number seven.

But now the house across from Harry—number three—that had been empty since the beginning of time as far as Harry was concerned actually had someone moving into it. And as if that wasn't perplexing enough by its own, there was also the fact that they were foreigners.

Uncle Vernon disliked that very much and actively discouraged Dudley from speaking to the child their age these people apparently had. Which, in Harry's experience just prompted the boy to do exactly that, but apparently it was something different when Uncle Vernon did it.

That only made the whole thing more amazing for Harry. If Dudley didn't tell them how much of a freak Harry was, then by all logic Harry had a genuine shot at having a friend for the first time in his life.

So it was safe to say that Harry was fairly excited when the family actually moved into the house.

Harry didn't have any chores to do outside that day—likely because his Aunt and Uncle wanted to avoid the neighbours seeing Harry or something—but that actually worked out in his favour. There was only so much to do in the house after all, and since he hadn't messed up, they had no real reason to lock him inside his cupboard and somehow it didn't occur to them to do it anyway.

So Harry was free to go out and meet the neighbours. No one had ever claimed that his aunt and uncle had all that much sense and Harry realized that even at his admittedly young age.

And that's how Harry got out of the house and onto the street, watching the new neighbour unload stuff out of the van into the house.

Before he realized it, the child he had heard about—a girl in bright yellow overalls, her hair in pigtails, and clutching a stuffed rabbit—skipped over to Harry.

"Bonjour! Je m'appelle Ameline Trottier. Et toi?" She continued speaking after that, but Harry was unable to decipher any of it, so he just stood there awkwardly.

Eventually, she must've figured out that he did not understand anything, because she called for her parents. At least Harry assumed that that was what she had done, as the woman came over.

As opposed to her daughter—probably?—she spoke English, even if it was heavily accented.

"I'm sorry for my daughter Ameline, but she does not speak English. We 'have just moved to 'here from France, you see? She has not gotten the chance to learn yet."

"It's okay," Harry replied. "It's not like I know French either. But she'll learn it which is already more than I'm doing."

The mother translated for her daughter and Ameline began to jump up and down excitedly as she began to speak again.

Harry looked at the mother, not knowing how else to react.

"She proposed that you can learn together and help each other."

Harry smiled. "I would love to do that!"

By the time the mother had finished translating, Ameline had already engulfed Harry in a hug. If this was what having friends felt like, Harry was definitely up to it.