Poor Harry and Ron. No magic, no muggle knowledge, no clue. They are transported to a muggle American private school. But can they survive a place where the jocks are like Slytherins, the cheerleaders like Veela, and the classes are just as complicated as Snape's? Maybe, with a little bit of Hope, and Jordi.

This was just an idea that came into my head when I was watching the GoF DVD and played the what if game with myself. I've wanted to do an HP fic for AGES but none of the ones I'd written were good enough. So finally I picked up my pen and started this.

DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts and all of its occupants belong to the amazing JKR. Anything else is mine.

Chapter One: The Boredom Spell

It was a cold and rainy day at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Gryffindors were sitting in their common room, extraordinarily bored. In one corner by the fire, three sixth years were sitting. The girl had her nose buried in a book, as usual. The two boys sitting across from her were looking suicidal with boredom. The redhead was resting his head on his hand, a string of drool hanging from his mouth, staring at the opposite wall with his eyes out of focus. And the black haired boy was looking out the window, trying to think of something for them to do.

Exploding snap?

No, Ron had lost his pack.

Wizard Chess?

No, his own set had taken such a ferocious beating during their last game that it was in need of a repair.

He even had the crazy thought of going to the library, until he mentally smacked himself. He was sick of studying.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from the other side of the common room, breaking the trio out of their trances. Ron wiped the drool from his chin. Then, a putrid and absolutely horrid smell reached their nostrils. Someone had let off a dung bomb.

"Oh, why does the maturity level ALWAYS drop severely in this common room?" said an exasperated Hermione. She threw down her quill, covering her nose with her robes and pulling out her wand, yelling at some third years as she went.

"I think I'll go send a letter," Harry finally said, standing up.

"Me too," said Ron, jumping out of his chair.

Leaving Hermione to restore order in the common room, the boys set off for the owlry.

"Honestly," said Ron as they climbed out of the portrait hole. "We were never that immature when we were third years."

"Hmm," said Harry absentmindedly, turning into a corridor. Ron caught up with him, grinning. "So, where are we going instead of the owlry?"

Harry grinned back. "I don't really know, I was thinking about exploring a certain section of the seventh floor, what about you?"

"Sounds good to me," said Ron, leading the way.

As they passed the classrooms they saw a numerous amount of strange occurrences, most of which were perfectly normal for them to see on a daily basis. When they walked past the Charms classroom, they saw a Ravenclaw send a toad soaring straight into Flitwick's face. Laughing as they watched it slide down his face with a trail of slime, Harry felt something hard jab him in the back of the head.

"Ouch!" he shouted. He and Ron whipped around, frowning as they saw Peeves the Poltergeist floating in front of them, making crude faces.

"Piss off, Peeves!" said Harry angrily, rubbing his head.

"Ooh, Potty got a booboo?" he asked innocently.

"Shut up, Peeves, or I'll get the Bloody Baron!" said Ron, throwing out his chest to show his prefect's badge. Harry choked back a laugh.

With one last raspberry and a large frown, Peeves disappeared around a corner.

"What is so funny?" asked Ron, for Harry had finally let his laughter burst free.

"Nothing, Percy," replied Harry.

Ron punched his arm. "Harry! Shut up!"

They turned away from Flitwick's classroom, continuing on their way to the statue of Barnabus the Barmy. The boys met no more trouble, for they had carefully taken a detour clear from the Defense against the Dark Arts hall. Finally, they reached the blank stretch of wall that they had used so many times the previous year.

"Well," started Harry. "What do we want?"

"Hmm," said Ron, being mock-smart by stroking his chin. "The rain to stop, to pass Snape's class, Snape to die a horrible death…"

Harry laughed. "Same here, but what do we want that can actually happen?"

Ron frowned, and continued to stare at the wall, his mind blank.

But Harry had just been struck with an idea…

He walked in front of the wall three times, thinking the thought that was in his mind. Instantly, a door appeared in the wall, and he anxiously turned the knob and walked inside, Ron right behind him.

Inside the room there was a large and comfy looking sofa, stacks of books and mountains of games that stretched as high as the ceiling.

"Brilliant, Harry!" cried Ron. "What did you wish for?"

"Something to stop the boredom," said Harry simply.

Ron immediately walked over to the games, but Harry found himself wandering over to the books. He felt very Hermione-ish. He peered at some of the titles. How to Cheat your Friends and Simple, Short Lasting but Nonetheless Effective Spells.

"Harry, look at these!" Ron breathed, opening a box. Harry turned around, and watched as fourteen miniscule players on brooms zoomed out, following four tiny balls and two giant goal posts. The players started zooming about, and in no time the team in gold had scored a goal. "We can watch a quidditch match!"

"Brilliant!" said Harry. However, he was still immersed in the books, and when he turned around, he found something quite curious.

There was a book that most definitely wasn't there a minute ago. He bent closer to it, eyes squinting. The spine of it was faded, and it didn't have a title. Ignoring all rules about mysterious books that he had learned over the years – sometimes by first hand experience – he picked it up and turned it to a table of contents. He had barely been skimming for two seconds when a particular title caught his eye: Bored?

He flipped to the page indicated and saw a few paragraphs with some pictures. Strangely enough, the room in one of the pictures looked exactly like the one he and Ron were in…

"There's the Snitch! Go for it!" Ron yelled from his corner.

'Mimble extraordina!' Harry read. He pulled out his wand and repeated the incantation, giving it a slight flick at nothing in particular.

Nothing happened.

He looked down at the page again, his face barely an inch from it. The picture showed a door appearing. But the only door Harry saw was the one which led back to the seventh floor corridor he and Ron had entered from.

Ron appeared not to have heard him; he was too busy yelling at one of the beaters.

It was then that they heard the bell ring. Unfortunately, Herbology, which had been cancelled due to the rain, was not their last class before dinner.

"Come on," said Harry, putting the book back on the shelf. "We'll be late to Transfiguration."

Ron stood up, and with a flick of his wand replaced the miniature quidditch players and equipment, and watched as the box soared to the top of the pile. "We'll definitely have to come back here sometime," said Ron. "And bring Hermione with us, she'd enjoy those books just as much as you did. Although," he added with an afterthought, "we might never be able to get her out of here."

Harry nodded with a laugh. Yes, they definitely should come back here. Ron opened the door for them, and they both stepped out.

But it was not the seventh floor corridor that they stepped out into, in fact, that was melting away in front of them.

At the same moment, the boys looked at each other, puzzled, mouths hanging wide open. Then, again in unison, their eyes widened and they pointed to each other.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Ron. "Harry, your clothes!"

"Your clothes!"

They were no longer in their Hogwarts uniforms, but were wearing grey dress pants and white blouses, with burgundy and navy striped ties, and navy blazers. On the breast pocket of the blazers was a school crest, and it definitely didn't include lions, badgers, serpents, and ravens.

And the statue of Barnabus the Barmy wasn't across from them, either. Instead, there was a door.

A door that read Headmaster's office.