"I really wish I didn't have to go," sighed Harry as he stood in the security line at Gatwick Airport. The line moved slowly and he was feeling crabby. Travel should be fun and exciting, but the endless security lines dulled Harry's enthusiasm. He began to find fault with everything; Gatwick seemed so small and dingy as compared to Heathrow. He wished he could have flown out of there instead.

"Well, Mr. Dumbledore knows what is best," said the enormous man standing next to him. "Besides ain't this better than staying with your Aunt and Uncle?"

"Yes, Hagrid, but I would have liked to have stayed at Hogwarts this summer," said Harry.

"Well, lad, this internship is a big opportunity for you. The wizards you'll be apprenticed to, why they're some of the finest in the States."

"Have you ever met them?" asked Harry. He looked up at Hagrid's face.

"A while ago, lad; they have their peculiarities," Hagrid stumbled across the long word, "But don't let that throw you." He thought for a moment and said, "One of them has a tiger for a familiar."

"A tiger?" Harry sounded alarmed. He had to check Hedwig in as luggage, he would hate to imagine having to take a tiger somewhere.

"Well, why not?" asked Hagrid. "One familiar is as good as another, ain't it?" It's a beautiful tiger too, white as snow, and it's friendly."

"Well, I hope so," said Harry. He felt a little relieved to here that it was a white tiger; at least Hedwig and it would have something in common. They got to the front of the line. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, Hagrid," he said.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," said Hagrid and the two men shook hands. Harry emptied out his pockets and took off his shoes. Hagrid stood and watched as the young wizard went through the metal detector.

The security guard stopped him. He was an older gentleman with white hair and a pointy nose. "Son, what the hell is this?" he asked as he held aloft a slender wooden rod.

"It's my wand, sir," replied Harry, meekly.

"A wand?"

"You know, like for casting magic spells," explained Harry.

"Do you worship the devil, son?" he asked.

"What? No, of course not," replied Harry, surprised by the question.

"Do you play Dungeons and Dragons?"

"No," he said swiftly, but though for a second, "I mean I play it with my friends once in a while. My friend Ron is a gnome illusionist and I'm a half-elf barbarian and our friend Hermione is the dungeon master…"

"Son, that's a lot more than I needed to know," said the security guard and he gave Harry back his wand.

"Muggles," Hagrid muttered under his breath as he walked away.

Harry took a cab out of the airport and through Las Vegas. The flight had been an ordeal. He had to take a taxi in New York City form La Guardia to JFK and traffic had crawled. The cab had smelled heavily of cigar smoke, which had made Harry feel like retching. He had to run through the airport to make his flight. He was in better spirits now. Vegas looked pretty; sunny and dry with sand and palm trees everywhere. How different it seemed from England, though Harry wondered briefly how pretty it would be away from air conditioning.

The address he had been given was a ways out of the city. The neighborhood seemed quite pleasant. The houses became enormous as he came to the street. Most magnificent of all was the vast Italianate mansion at the cul-de-sac. Harry gasped and double checked the address.

He paid the cab driver and took his worn black bags and his covered birdcage to the white marble steps. He rang the bell and waited for a few moments. The pale yellow door was thrown open a few moments later. A very blonde man stood before him. He was dressed flamboyantly in silk pantaloons, a bright yellow shirt with feathers on the sleeve and an enormous silver cape which glittered in the sunlight; beside him stood an enormous white tiger.

"Can I help you?" asked the man. He had a faint German accent and spoke in a falsetto.

"I'm your apprentice, Harry Potter," said Harry. He pulled out his letter of introduction. The man read it for a second and said, "Come in, come in." The foyer was vast. It had a red, white and black tile floor and a white marble balcony above. In the center of the room was a fountain with statues of naked youths cavorting.

"Oh Siegfried," the man called out.

"Oh Roy," Harry heard a voice call back.

"The new boy is here," called Roy.

"Is he dreamy?" the voice called back. It gave a particularly melodious rendering of the word "Dreamy."

"Siegfried, you promised to behave," said Roy, crossly, as he put his hand on his hips.

"I was only teasing," said the second man as he appeared on the balcony. He was dressed much like Roy, except his feathered shirt was red and his cape was gold. "Ooh, but he is quite a dish. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry replied.

"Oh, you make me so ancient with that 'Sir.' Please call me Siegfried.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long summer.