Amor Encendido

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I merely claim Chanda and other characters I make as well as plot ideas, etc.
Summary: Chanda Duquore. Her name means fierce. The only thing fierce about her are all the tears she has cried. When her parents die, she moves in with her Grandmother. She's hoping for a fresh start and a happy life. But her new life encounters Harry Potter who finds this muggle will become the world to him. But with Voldemort breathing down Harry's back, that can't happen... right?

Words to know:
Amor Encendido - Fiery Love
¡Ah mi Dios! - Oh my god! (Is also used as a term of surprise.)
Abuela - Grandma
¡Caramelo Jesús! - Sweet Jesus!
¡¿Trata usted de matarme?! - Are you trying to kill me?!
Si - yes
Chico - boy
Mi Paella – My paella (Spanish food)
¡¿Usted es suicida?! - Are you suicidal?!

The plane ride was intensely boring to say the least. I listened in on people's conversations while staring out the plane window. It was dark and overcast below and bright and sunny above the clouds. It made me think: how people appear to be sunny and happy on the exterior but below the surface, there's darkness and tears. I chuckle. Then there's me. I'm like a sunshine filled day where it freakishly pours. I smile at the analogy.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please put on your safety restraints. We will be landing momentarily at the London airport."

I buckle up. Why they can't just say seat belts instead of 'safety restraints' is beyond me. They make it sound like we're in a psychiatric ward and need to be strapped to the wall or something.

The plane begins to descend and I try to make out what's below to no avail. It's too dark out. We touch down, causing me to bounce around, and slow to a stop.

"Thank you for flying with us, we wish you all a pleasant trip to London, England!"

I unsnap my seat belt and grab my backpack from up above my seat and shuffle off the plane into the terminal. Following the appropriate signs, I grab my two large suitcases with wheels and follow more signs to exit this labyrinth. Finding the exit is no easy task but I succeed and to my dismay, I walk into pouring rain.

"¡Ah mi Dios! This can't be happening!" I wail.

I feel many curious stares as I just stand there in the pouring rain. But I just can't bring myself to move. Even though I love the sun, it never rained that often in Spain and was cause for curses. But, it felt so different being in England, another landmass, another language, another world, and all I could do was stand in the pouring rain silently.

"Dance in the rain!"

My mother's words came back to me. And so I did. I danced in the rain, in front of the London International Airport. What the heck, I'm starting over. You only live once.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I stop waltzing with myself and turn around to face the stranger.

"¡Ah mi Dios¡Abuela!"

What is she wearing?! She stands there in the pouring rain with tan shorts on down to her knees, with black combat boots laced up to her knees, and a dark blue Boy Scout shirt. No umbrella, no jacket.

"'Ah mi Dios' is right young lady. Dancing like a fool in the rain while leaving your luggage unattended! At least wait until we get home so you don't scare the tourists away."

I gulp. I have never met the woman, but Dad always said she was very stern and proper. But maybe the last time Dad had seen her, he had been blind. Her hair was bright red, an obvious dye job, spiky, with black at the tips. Proper indeed Dad. Proper indeed.

We load the luggage into the back of her car, which was pulled up onto the curb, not next to it, on it, and climb in the front. The car isn't what I expected from my old proper Grandmother. It's a jeep, with mud stains to boot. The roof is clear and plastic. I think its tarp. That makes me feel so much better. She pulls out of the parking lot pretty quickly. Did I mention there are no doors?

"¡¡ABUELA!!"

We screech to a halt at a red light. I'm sitting there clutching my heart and the dashboard.

"¡Ah mi Dios!... ¡Ah mi Dios!... ¡Caramelo Jesús!... ¡¿Trata usted de matarme¡¿Usted es suicida?!" I shriek.

"Chanda Duquore!"

Here comes the speech of how I shouldn't talk to her like that. I roll my eyes.

"Live a little."

I blink and am thrown back into my seat as she guns the gas pedal grinning like a maniac. Oh yeah, my Abuela is very proper. I snort at the thought. We drive at insane speeds (70 mph in an open jeep with no doors seems pretty insane to me), reaching her house in 42 minutes. Her house is about 70 miles from the airport. It should take 1 hour. It didn't. You see my distress.

"Welcome to Privet Drive Chanda. I hope you like it here."

Oh I'm sure. The houses are all the same! What's up with that? I see faces peaking out of windows and doors.

"I'm known as an eccentric here. Apparently, 76 year old women can't own a jeep, run around in what I do, and be as active as I am in this neighborhood." she says gesturing to her clothes.

Apparently not. I shrug and we exit the car, grab my luggage, and enter her humble abode. Again, it's not what I expect. First off, it smells like candles and incense and cats. That's when I notice them. Six cats are lined up in front of me, blocking my path.

"Chanda, these are my friends."

Friends? More like guard cats ready to kill me.

"From left to right we have Roger, Daemon, Charlie, Zack, Rob, and Jasmine."

They're all black. Pure black. And they're staring at me. So I stare back.

"Boys and Jasmine? This is my Granddaughter Chanda. She'll be living here now so I expect you to be nice, understand?"

Like cats can understand her. But they blink at her and all but Roger stalk off. He is the smallest, a kitten still.

"Roger isn't a kitten, just a dwarf cat." Abuela answers my thoughts.

"Well, let's not tarry. Follow me."

She walks up the stairs on my immediate right and the first door at the top she opens up.

"This is your new room. I'll let you unpack. Come down when you're hungry."

"Si Abuela." I say softly.

"And stop with that Abuela junk. It's Rosie."

"Si Ab-, Rosie."

She smiles at me and exits. I look down at my feet to find Roger staring up at me.

"What a strange house."

Roger mews and jumps up on my bed as I unpack.

"It looks like this is the start of a beautiful friendship, doesn't it Roger?"

"Mew."

"Thought as much."

((Harry's POV))

"Boy! Hurry up and look decent! We have to meet our new neighbor."

I stumble down the stairs in a tired stupor. Today was the second day of my summer "vacation" and I'm not too happy.

"Grab a raincoat and come on! I won't have you dripping on their floor."

Is it just me, or does he turn purple way too much to be healthy? No, no, just me then? Okay then.

I grab a raincoat and follow Dudley out the door. Apparently, someone's grandaughter moved in. The older lady is Ms. Duquore. She's pretty fun actually. Rather out there and not caring about what others think of her. I hope her granddaughter is like her.

We arrive at her house. The lawn is nowhere near as nice as Uncle Vernon's. I roll my eyes at the thought. Like anyone's lawn can compete with that perfectionist's.

Uncle Vernon knocks on the door, fixing up his suit. Aunt Petunia presses her hair down and musses with her dress. Dudley just stands there, stupid as ever. The little pervert is probably excited a new girl has moved in. Sicko.

"Oh why, hello Vernon, Petunia. What brings you all over?"

Ms. Duquore says, opening the door. She looks like an older Tonks.

"We thought we'd welcome your Granddaughter to the neighborhood." he replies smoothly.

"Well, come on in. You can stay for dinner. Chanda is in the kitchen makin' up some Spanish dish. Come in, come in!"

She ushers us into her house. It reminds me of an old hippie home.

"Meow."

We look down and see five cats. They don't look happy to see us.

"You five behave, they're guests alright? Where's Roger?"

The cats blink at her.

"Shadowing Chanda. Well at least he's nice to her."

More stares.

"Don't give me that look. Now,"

She turns to us.

"Let's retire to the living room. Dudley, Harry, you two may join Chanda in the kitchen."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia give each other glances. They probably think she's some witch since she's so weird and talks to cats. I chuckle and get a kick in the shin as Dudley toddles off to the kitchen. Grumbling, I follow.

Once in the kitchen, a strong smell of herbs and spices assault my senses. A girl my age is bustling about the kitchen. She's wearing grey boy gym shorts; black and pink polka dotted knee-high socks, and a blue tank top. Her feathery white hair is pulled into a super short pony tail with a huge orange scrunchie... thing. She's singing loudly in some language, I think it's Spanish, while she dances about the kitchen; grabbing things.

Dudley grins, punches me, and struts on up behind her.

I stare, fall over, mutter curses, and watch the scene unfold.

"Hey there, are you an angel? Because I think I just died and went to Heaven."

Ugh, what a nauseating pick-up line.

She turns around and surveys him with huge aquamarine eyes. They're so beautiful. I can stare all day. Not that I will... Much.

"They have pretty women in Hell too chico. Now, get out of my kitchen before I beat you out." she snaps.

A slight Spanish accent, she rolls her r's. She's also witty. And Dudley won't ever be able to keep up with a witty girl. I try to hide my laughter at his confused expression.

"Whatever you say sweet thing." he mutters and stalks out.

((Chanda's POV))

What a creep! That has to be the oldest and most stupid pick-up line ever! Oh wait! New boy alert! And he doesn't look icky. Oh contraire. What lovely green eyes he has, all the more better to drool at my dear.

"You okay chico?"

I bend down and give him a hand up. His grip is strong and I stagger backwards pulling him up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm used to Dudley being an idiot."

I'm drowning... stupid green eyes. Wait, Dudley?! I snort and he gives me a strange look.

"Who names their child 'Dudley'?"

"Only Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia." he says laughingly.

I giggle.

"With names like that, I can see why."

He nods his head and chuckles a bit.

"Mrow!!"

"Oh Roger! What's wrong...? MI PAELLA!!"

I scramble to the skillet, which is currently on fire, grab a towel, and start beating out the flames.

Why is my towel... hot, like it's maybe ON FI- water.

Harry is panting beside me with a bowl that was filled with water.

"Are you okay?"

NO! I feel the tears coming on. Stupid tear ducts. I swear there is something wrong with me! A couple tears escape my eyes but I hastily wipe them away. I really hope he didn't see that. How could I be so stupid?! Not to mention, my shirt is wet now.

"I'm fine. I just hope the paella is okay."

I quickly shift the food around, hoping it's not burnt. How much would that suck? Only a whole lot! I mean, I almost burn the house down, which would freak me out enough, but in front of the cutest guy in history! That is just irony at its worst.

"It looks okay. And besides, you just cut the cooking time in half!"

I glance up at him. He's smiling, trying to make me feel better. It's working, and I'm blushing and finding my paella the most interesting thing since sliced bread. And did I mention he's standing right behind me!! I'm trying not to hyperventilate. I can honestly say I've never been this close to a guy before. Well, one that I liked. One that was so adorably cute, handsome, and has smoldering green eyes of quicksand that has sucked my ve-

"Chanda! Is that grub ready? I'm hungrier than a legless cop watching a doughnut rolling down the hill!"

He laughs and I giggle along. Abuela, I mean, Rosie has the most interesting sense of humor I've ever encountered. Just my luck she's my guardian. I roll my eyes at the thought.

"Yeah, the paella is just about done; I'll have it out in a minute!"

"Oh, I forgot to mention, my name is Harry Potter."

He sticks his hand out while we get the food on the plates.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Harry."

"And it's nice to meet you Chanda."