"Hello?" the girl repeated again, her huge eyes widening. "Who are you? Did my mom send you down here without telling me?" She paused to roll her eyes. "I could kill her, really. Well, lemme put out these candles."

I was still standing stock-still, my mouth gaping open. Dizzying thoughts whirled through my mind at a breakneck speed. Who was this girl? And- hmm- what did she mean by she could kill her mom? Was this some sort of Dark Wizard? And if so, how had I gotten here? Had Voldemort finally come up with a way to get me?

My mouth snapped close, and then fell open again like a silently gasping fish. That must be what I reminded her of, because she burst out laughing as she reached over to blow out three candles lined up on the shelf above her bed. Her fitted black Linkin Park T-shirt slid up her smooth stomach to reveal a pierced belly button.

"Where- where am I?" I demanded bravely, backing up against the wall, drawing my eyes back up to her face. I had to watch her every move.

She rolled her eyes again, blowing out yet another huddle of elegantly embossed rolled candles. "220 West Pottle, dear. Like you didn't already know that. Now come on- what are you trying to pull? Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

"What's... what's a 220 West Pottle? Or where is it?" I eyed the open doorway. If I wanted to, I could make a run for it... but that might not be smart- I had no clue where I was, and I'd probably get lost...

She sighed, exasperated. "That's my address, you nutcase. Now you're starting to really tick me off. Just answer my questions, please."

I clenched my jaw. This girl was making me angry. Something extremely evil had just happened to me and she expected me to just sit around, meek and timid, and tell her whatever she wanted to know? Uh-uh, no way. Harry Potter didn't have a lightening bolt-shaped on his forehead for nothing. "Excuse me," I started off politely. "Would you like to explain to me what just happened? Who are you working for? Please answer some of my questions first."

The oddest, most unreadable look crossed over her face. "Excuse me? 'What just happened?' I didn't do anything to you, Mister Mystery. I was just sitting here, reading some Poe, and- poof!- some freaky guy is standing in my bedroom doorway. Any normal girl would be screaming 'rape' by now, but I'm not some air-headed nitwit, thank you very much-" She was gesturing about, talking a mile a minute, the bracelets on her left hand clinking furiously.

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," I said, holding up a hand. She stopped abruptly, still staring at me with that puzzled, odd expression. I rubbed my hand against my scar, a habit that I'd picked up lately. It reminded me that I had to stay alert and brave at all times, because I never knew what was going to happen in this messed-up world anymore. I sighed. "So you're just as confused as I am?"

"More so."

"Hmm... I have a hard time believing that," I answered wryly.

She gave me a smirk. "I don't. So, who are you?"

I stared at her, amazed. "You really haven't figured it out yet?"

She started to grin. "Oh, wait. I get it. Are you some sort of celebrity or movie star? I did apply for that Win a Date with the Mystery Man contest. Did I win? Are you going to whisk me away to some expensive Italian restaurant now?"

I shook my head. This was getting weirder every second. Who was this girl? How did she not recognize me? Finally, I looked up at her. Staring straight into her eyes, I slowly shook my head. "Sorry, I've got no idea what you're talking about. Does the name Potter ring a bell?"

She closed her eyes briefly and I noticed the perfect half moons her thick lashes made on her cheeks. "Potter... Potter... nope, sorry. Is it someone from school?"

I shook my head again, rejecting the idea. School? I'd first noticed when I fell into this place that she didn't have a British accent. It was unusual all right, preppy and chipper, with a slight twang to it. If I weren't mistaken, she spoke like an American. "Excuse me, are you from the United States?"

She burst out laughing. "From the United States? Honey, I live in the United States. If you haven't noticed, that's where you are, deep in the heart of St. Louis, Missouri."

I groaned and slumped against the wall. St. Louis, Missouri. United States. This was getting better every minute. I began to pace, going over everything that had happened to me and that I knew. 1.) I had somehow been transported to this girl's bedroom instead of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. 2.) I was at 220. West Pottle, St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States of America. 3.) Voldemort may somehow be after me, or this might all be one big accident. 4.) I didn't know very much.

"Well, we might as well be properly introduced," the girl said, shrugging, her very long brown hair sliding over one shoulder. She offered her hand to me. "Hi. My name's Charlie. Charlie Becker. And you?"

I stared at her hand as if it were some foreign object. Though her nails were bitten and ragged, her fingers were long and slender, the skin of her palm, wrist, and the back of her hand smooth and taut. Five silver bracelets slid down her arm, clinking gently. A silver ring coiled around her thumb, a small green stone set deeply into the center. Finally, I shook my head slightly, clearing some of the quick, flitting thoughts. Glancing up at her, I smiled crookedly. "Sorry. I'm sorta confused. My name's Harry Potter."

We gripped hands firmly. Her palm was cool and dry, and she had a confident grasp. As I stared into her huge, round eyes, my stomach jumped slightly. How could I trust this girl? Who was she... and what was I doing here? How would I get myself out of this mess? A shock of some indescribable emotion raced through me as I let go of Charlie's hand. I pushed it down, not allowing myself to recognize the true nature of this sensation.

A small smile broke out on her face. "Well," she said, blowing out the last of the candles, which was hunched on a small stool near our knees. We were now encased in shadowy darkness. "Let's go. I guess I'll show you around. Feel free to explain at any time."

She exited the room, brushing past me. I stood thoughtfully for a second, staring at the shiny head of hair bobbing off down the hallway. I sighed. "You too," I mumbled bleakly. "You too." There was no other choice now. If Voldemort had me, than he had me. I didn't even know if I cared anymore. Oh well. Quick, rash decisions was a special of mine.

And I followed Charlie into the hall.