Harry Potter was not happy.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, and Head of the Wizengamot, had just sent Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, a letter. Not just any letter, mind you. This letter informed the 15 year-old that he would be moving to the states for the year. "For safety precautions" is what it had said.

'For safety precautions, my arse,' Harry thought, and promptly crumpled the letter up, and threw it into the garbage. After reading it, of course.

It had also stated that the Dursleys would be going with him.

When Harry read this part, he laughed out loud. How Dumbledore got the Dursleys to agree with this, he wasn't sure, and he really didn't want to know.

Harry was still rather sore at Dumbledore for not telling him . . . Well. . . Everything, really. What right did he have for doing that, anyway? Had he told him, instead of 'trying to protect him', he wouldn't have-

No. He was not going to think about that.

But it wasn't as if Harry didn't know what the letter was going to say anyway. 'You'll have fun!' 'I'm sorry about what happened.' 'You will make new friends.' 'No, you cannot stay.'

Yadda, yadda, ya.

At the present moment, Harry could care less what the old coot had to say. He really did not want to go to the States. Dumbledore said he would be going to a Muggle school. How Harry was going to be getting his training, he didn't say. All he knew at this point, is he would be leaving Thursday morning—it was now Saturday—at precisely 6:00 A.M.

Why Dumbledore had to send him to such a country, at such an ungodly hour, he wasn't entirely sure.

But, bloody hell, did it piss him off.

Harry silently picked up all his things, threw them in his trunk, all the while, cursing Dumbledore to hell as he did so. After he was packed, he turned off the lights, crawled under his covers in Dudley's old bed, put his glasses on the nightstand, and went to sleep.

When the Dursleys awoke on Saturday morning, with all their things packed, they were not happy, to say the least. Even though they thought Vernon's boss had relocated them to the States, not Dumbledore—although Dumbledore had ties with Vernon's boss, not that Vernon knew—they were still not happy that Harry had to come with.

'Figures though, don't it?' Harry asked himself, as he realized how Dumbledore got the Dursleys to move, 'The manipulative bastard can't even leave Vernon's boss alone, he has to have eyes on me at all times.'

When Harry had come down the stairs with his belongings, the Dursleys had already been waiting for him. Uncle Vernon was a rather violent shade of purple, though he didn't say anything. After shooting Harry a 'Death Glare', he addressed the house at large and said, "We'd better get going, don't want to miss our flight."

Harry had a feeling that this was going to be a rather long rest-of-the-summer, even though there was less thana monthto go.

The plane ride went quicker than Harry had expected. He was dreadfully tired, even though he had slept through almost the entire thing. Which, Harry thought was utterly ridiculous. How could anybody be so tired after almost fourteen hours of continuous sleep?

He already missed his friends. Dumbledore didn't let him tell his friends where he was going. That infuriated him more than anything. The man had the nerve to take him away from everything he had ever known, his friends, his school. . . Okay, so there wasn't really much to take away from him anymore, but it was still the initiative! Besides, the way Harry looked at it; he wouldn't do too much better here than he had been before he started Hogwarts. The only good quality clothes he owned was the Hogwarts school uniform and you certainly couldn't wear that to a Muggle school. The Americans would be brutal to him in Dudley's old hand-me-downs, and he certainly didn't have enough Muggle money to buy new ones, the Dursleys unquestionably weren't going to let him keep them even if he did. If they knew how much money he had, he'd be paying rent, bills, and buying all the groceries. No, Harry would have to make do with what he had. Unless--

'Maybe if I told them Ron and Hermione sent them. . .' Harry thought, 'Just maybe, I might be able to keep them.'

But how to get the money to buy the clothes without the Dursleys knowing that it was actually his money--

Harry decided he'd figure that out later. Right now, he had to greet his new home.

Newmanstown, Pennsylvania, United States of America.