"Hello."

"You Evans?" The woman holding the sign asked. She was tall, looking down at Harry with kind eyes. She was wearing a blue polo shirt and a dark shorts, and Harry got an air of athleticism about her.

"Yas, ma'am," Harry nodded. "Harry, please," he held out a hand and the woman shook it pleasantly.

"Shannon Bieste," she returned. "Though you'll be calling me coach soon enough."

"Oh?" Harry asked as the two began to walk out of the airport.

Shannon nodded, "I'm gonna be coaching up at the school. Football. Don't suppose you play?"

"Er, you mean American football, right?" Asked Harry, but he shook his head anyway, "And no."

"That's fair. You don't have the look about you anyway."

Harry let out a chuckle, "Yeah, I'm a twig. I know."

Shannon laughed along and led Harry to an old looking car. She unlocked it and opened the boot. Harry set down his bags and entered the car himself, sitting in to passenger seat and buckling in.

"You play any sport?" Shannon asked hopefully, and Harry got the impression she wanted at least something in common with him that they could talk about.

"Yeah, but I doubt anyone here would really understand it," Harry admitted.

Shannon cocked her head, glancing at him quickly before pulling her car out of its parking spot.

"It's kinda like polo," Harry said. "But my school had a weird version of it that had more balls and more players."

"Polo? That's that fancy one with horses, right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"You don't look the fancy type, if I'm honest." Shannon said.

Harry looked down at himself. He was dressed in what someone might call 'punk' but he didn't buy into labels like that. He did know that his newfound dress sense pissed off his aunt and uncle to no end, though. Something he found both amusing and irritating. "I suppose not," he admitted. "I also run, I guess," he said, changing the topic. He laughed internally. He had a lot of experience running. "And I've played a bit of football- I mean soccer- in the past, in primary school."

"Primary school?"

"Um..." Harry wracked his brain for the American equivalent. "Elementary? I think."

Shannon looked a little disappointed but smiled nonetheless. "What do you do in your free time?" She asked. "You aren't one of those video game types are you?"

Harry shook his head. Video games were more Dudley's thing. He had never been allowed to play, but even in the month he had spent with his cousin being nice to him he didn't see the appeal of such a pass time. "I read," he said.

Shannon laughed, "Well ain't that new. A teenager who likes to read! Don't get many of them about."

Harry shifted in his seat and a slight flush coloured his cheeks. While he was nowhere near Hermione levels of bookworm, he found himself preferring to read when he was bored rather than do anything else. He supposed it was something to do with not growing up with access to television and other things.

The car slowed to a halt as Shannon pulled into the driveway of a small house. Harry was led inside, Shannon insisting on carrying his bags, and up a flight of stairs into a small, plain looking room. Shannon set down his bags on the double bed that was pushed against the wall beside a window.

"This is your room," Shannon said. "You can decorate it how you want, seeing as you'll be here for a year."

Harry thanked her. He had never been allowed to decorate a room before. He probably wouldn't change it up much, but the option was nice to have.

"Do you want a tour, or shall I leave you to unpack for now?"

"I'll unpack," said Harry. "I also have to call my cousin. He'll be dying for a catch up." Shannon nodded and left the room, shutting the door with a click after informing Harry the bathroom was down the hall to the right.

Harry set about unpacking, drawing the curtains and pulling out his wand. He had refrained from magic as much as possible around the Dursleys, even Dudley, and it was nice to let loose a bit. He cast a charm and watched as his clothes unpacked themselves, messily flying into the chest of drawers and hanging up in the wardrobe. Harry laughed as a particularly stubborn sock tried to force itself into a closer drawer.

As his clothes flew about, Harry manually put away his shoes, of which he only had three pairs, beside the door. He let out an 'oof' when he was hit in the face by a pair of underwear and he cancelled the charm, resigning himself to put away the rest of his clothes by hand. Magic was fun until you got hit in the face with undies.

Once everything was unpacked Harry reclined himself on the bed. The mattress was soft and squishy, though not nearly as soft as the Hogwarts beds were. He fished through his pockets for his phone, making a mental note to ask Shannon for the wifi code, and called Dudley. He picked up immediately.

"Harry! You can't be there yet already, can you?"

Harry laughed, "Hey Dud. Yeah, I am."

"Shit dude, magic is fast. You teleport or something?"

"Yes. It was awful. If you ever get the chance to take a portkey, don't do it," Harry warned jovially, as if offers of portkeying were a regular thing.

Dudley snickered in bemused. "So what's America like? Where exactly are you?"

"I haven't seen enough of it yet to really say," Harry admitted. "And I'm staying Lima, Ohio."

"Never heard of it."

"That's the point," Harry laughed at his cousin's bluntness. "I don't want anyone to find me here. I just want to be a normal kid for once. I'm even going to muggle school."

"Is that why you read all my old textbooks?"

"Yeah."

"I heard American school let you wear whatever you want. Wish our schools did that. My uniform sucks."

Harry snickered at the memory of his cousin's school uniform. "It really does," he agreed.

"So where are you staying? Like, are you alone? Do you have a house?"

"I'm staying with one of the teachers actually."

"One of the teachers?" Dudley exclaimed. "You have got to have the worst luck ever, Harry."

"She seems nice enough," Harry shrugged.

"She? Is she hot?"

"Gross, Dud. And no. Think a muscly Aunt Marge."

Harry could just imagine Dudley's face. "Ew," he audibly shuddered. "What does she teach then?"

"She's an American football coach."

Dudley was quiet for a moment, and Harry could hear Petunia's voice in the background. "Okay mum!" Dudley yelled before in a quieter voice speaking to Harry, "Gotta go. Mum invited the neighbour for tea again."

"Okay. Talk to you later," Harry nodded and Dudley returned the sentiment before hanging up.

The next day arrived with little fanfare. Harry had found himself waking before the sunrise, to be expected from the time zone change, and decided to go for a quick run. He wrote a note for Shannon, just in case she woke up before he got back, and set out. He ran for a while, using it as an opportunity to scout out the town, and he ended up jogging past an interesting little coffee shop called the Lima Bean. He scoffed at the play on words and made a note to check it later. There was nothing else of note from his run and he ended up returning home not long after the sun crept above the horizon. Harry was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by Shannon sitting in the living room, doing push-ups in front of the TV. She seemed to noticed him but was more focused on her workout and Harry climbed the stairs to head for the bathroom.

He showered off quickly, freeing himself from the stench of sweat, and he returned to his room to get dressed. The day passed slowly, Harry sitting in the living room reading while Shannon watched random sports on the TV.

Around lunchtime Harry went for a walk, bidding Shannon goodbye and shrugging a hoodie on. The air was chilly thanks to the arrival of autumn and the wind blew gently. Harry walked in the direction he had ran that morning, heading for the Lima Bean. It was rather busy this time of day, and Harry was second guessing his decision to stand in line to be served. He wasn't even fond of coffee. Then again, the line went down pretty quickly and soon Harry was ordering a latte and sitting down at a nearby table.

He sipped at his drink and people watched in between texts to Dudley. There weren't very interesting characters mulling about, though Harry didn't mind. He liked a bit of mundanity now and then, what with his chaotic life. There was, however, something resembling interesting when a couple came in being led by a teenager around Harry's age. She was dark haired, with a prominent nose and a smug look on her face. The couple with her was comprised of two blokes. One was tall, wearing glasses and an obnoxiously bright magenta jumper. The other was shorter, with curly hair and a cheerful face. They were very clearly a couple, Harry could tell, as they were constantly touching each other in some way.

The three ordered and sat down at a table next to Harry's. The girl and the taller man were very loud, and Harry was easily able to overhear their conversation. They were going on about some musical or other, something Harry didn't really care about. He tried to tune it out as best he could, out of politeness but also out of disinterest. He paid no more attention to them until he got up to leave, passing by their table at the same time as the shorter man stood. Harry ended up walking right into him.

He stumbled back but the man caught him.

"Woah, sorry there," he apologised, and Harry flushed.

"Er, sorry. Didn't see you get up."

The man shook his head, "My fault entirely."

"You're British?" The taller man asked with intrigue.

Harry nodded.

"Did any of that spill?" Asked the shorter, surveying Harry and eying the paper coffee cup in his hands.

The boy shook his head, "It's empty."

"Oh good, I would hate the idea of having ruined your outfit," the man said.

Harry shook his head again, "Er, nothing's ruined. It's fine."

"Who are you?" Asked the girl. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Harry hesitated before answering, "I just moved here. I'm Harry. Evans."

"I'm Rachel Berry," the girl introduced herself. "These are my dads."

"I'm Hiram," greeted the taller man.

"Leroy," said the shorter. "Do excuse me, I was just heading for the bathroom." He hurried away and Harry was left with Leroy and Rachel, who we looking at him like he were some rare collectible.

"How old are you, Harry?" Hiram asked.

"17," answered Harry awkwardly. He really wanted to leave this conversation but didn't know a polite way to do so.

"Oh, same age as my daughter."

"What school do you go to?" Rachel asked eagerly.

"I'm gonna be going to McKinley High."

"I go there too!" Rachel exclaimed. "Do you sing?"

Harry blinked at the out of the blue question. "Uh... not really. Um, I've got to go..." he said and Rachel looked disappointed.

"Oh. Okay. See you at school, Harry," she waved as Harry left as quickly as he could not while not looking like he was running away.

At dinner Shannon called for takeout. They sat in the living room to eat, the TV having been switched to a music channel and playing softly in the background.

"School starts up tomorrow," Shannon said pleasantly. "You excited?"

Harry took a moment to answer. Was he excited? "Yeah," he said. He kinda was. He was excited to be a normal kid for the first time in his life. What better way to do that than go to a regular old high school. "Are you?" He asked. He had learned that Shannon was also new to the school.

She shrugged, "As I can be," she said. "You sure I can't get you to try out for my team?" She asked earnestly. She had asked Harry that yesterday.

He laughed, "I'll think about it."

"Heh, you're alright, kid," said Shannon.