A/N: Okay, so this is my first fanfiction, and I'm only gonna keep writing it if you think it's worth it, so please tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: My initials are JR! But unfortunately my middle name begins with an E… so no, I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1:

"Potter, Harry."

Harry raised a hand, "Here." He was aware of the odd looks her was getting, but he knew it wasn't because of his scar this time. At least, it wasn't because of the story behind his scar, it was just the fact the scar existed at all.

That summer the 6th and 7th years' letters from Hogwarts had announced a sort of study abroad program… they could choose to spend the first semester of the new term at a muggle high school. Of course Hermione had jumped at the chance, and Harry and Ron had signed up to stop her from badgering them. The three had been placed in the same school – St. Andrews Prepatory School – and they were staying with an elderly witch and wizard from the area. The three friends were not the only students interested in the program, and more than 30 had put their names down. Dumbledore had thought it unwise to send so many "exchange" students to the same school, so the Hogwarts students had been sent to a variety of American high schools (to experience a different country as well as a muggle school).

As Harry sat in his first period English class, he started to realize just how much he was giving up by attending a muggle school; Defense Against the Dark Arts, the Marauder's Map (he could still use it, it just didn't do him any good), the kitchens, and, worst of all, quidditch. Harry had almost broken his wand when he received a letter from Professor McGonagall, asking him to hand his captain's badge to Ginny.

A soft tap on his shoulder jerked him from his reverie and he turned around in his chair, "Need something?"

The prettiest girl he had ever seen was looking at him, mouth quirked in a tiny smile, blue eyes sparkling, "Yes. My bag is caught around your chair." She motioned to a large purse on the ground; his chair leg was planted through one of the straps.

Harry blushed before shifting his weight to bring the chair leg off the ground, "Sorry… sorry, I don't know your name."

"Maybe if you hadn't of been daydreaming during role you would know it."

"Mr. Potter. You may have been allowed to have side conversations in your previous school, but I can assure you that it will not be tolerated in my classroom." Mrs. Montgomery, a tall severe woman who vaguely resembled Professor McGonagall, looked at him sternly. "If I have to remind you again, I will send you to the Principal's office. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded mutely, mortified. He could hear the girl behind him laughing softly, but he didn't turn around, for fear of attracting Mrs. Montgomery's wrath a second time.

"Now that everyone is ready for class, we'll begin. My name is Mrs. Montgomery, which you should know by now. I won't tolerate any slacking in my class, but if you do the work well, you'll be fine. Cheating is unacceptable, and you will receive a zero in the class. Lateness is also unacceptable, in class and on assignments. This year we'll read Beowulf, Julius Caesar, Gawain and the Green Knight, as well as short stories by such authors as Edgar Allen Poe, Flannery O'Connor, and Jack London. You will need a black binder with paper and dividers. Please get out whatever it is you will take notes with…"

She continued talking, but Harry had zoned out; without Hermione to chide him or Ron to talk to, he was having a hard time concentrating on anything for more than two minutes. He wondered briefly how he was going to pass any of his classes if he couldn't pay attention, but then his thoughts shifted again, and he spent the rest of class imagining what the start-of-term feast at Hogwarts had been like.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped for the second time in an hour; Mrs. Montgomery was leaning over his desk, staring at him disapprovingly, "Yes, Mrs. Montgomery?"

Mr. Potter, if you are going to allow your attention to drift the entire year, we are going to have some problems. I understand that it's hard to transfer schools when you're a junior, but that does not mean you have the right to not pay attention. If your grades slip below a D, you will be put on probation, understand?"

"Yes Profes— I mean ma'am. I understand." Thinking she was done, Harry starting shoving his books in his bag, anxious to see Ron and Hermione, who were both in his next class.

"I'm glad to hear that. And Harry—"

He looked up quickly, "Yes?"

"Welcome to St. Andrews." Her smile was so quick Harry wasn't even sure he had seen it.

"Thank you." He finished packing up his stuff and hurried out the door, anxious to be away. Pulling the map the front desk receptionist had given him; he searched for his next class, rotating the paper a few times. After a few minutes, he gave up; he had no clue where he was. Cursing silently he began chose a random hallway and began walking, hoping he would come across someone who could help him.

"Are you Harry Potter?" The speaker, a sandy-haired boy wearing a letter jacket, stuck out his hand, "Sean Fairway. I'm supposed to be taking you to back to advanced chemistry."

"Yeah, thanks," he shook Sean's hand.

Harry had been going in exactly the wrong direction, according to Sean he had been heading for the seniors' hallway, a very bad idea. "The seniors don't like underclassmen in their area, and they're not happy when they're irritated. It's better if you just stay away from that part of the building."

Storing this information in the back of his mind, Harry pushed open the door to the chemistry lab. The teacher, an enormous man with a long mustache, stood from he was bent over a student's desk, "Ah. Thank you, Mr. Fairway. Mr. Potter, how wonderful it is to finally see you."

"Sorry, sir, I couldn't figure out the map."

"Of course! First day is always overwhelming. Well, please grab a questionnaire off of my desk, find a seat, and fill it out." He turned back to the blond boy, and began talking quietly.

Harry picked up the questionnaire and scanned the room, looking for Ron and Hermione. He found them sitting at a back table, motioning for him to join them. "Come on," Ron mouthed. Relief flooded Harry as he pulled out a chair beside Hermione.

"I cannot believe you made us sign up for this, Hermione," Harry hissed.

"Hermione and I just had algebra… it was horrible."

"It was not horrible, Ronald. You just didn't pay attention."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what they were talking about, did I?" He turned to Harry, "Of course Hermione knew all the answers to the questions. I don't know how she knew any of it though; it didn't look anything like her arithmancy."

"Oh Ronald. You don't think I stopped studying stuff like math and history just because I got into Hogwarts do you? I took summer classes."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and Hermione blushed, "My parents wanted me to have options when I finished Hogwarts, even in the muggle world. Close you mouth, Ron; you look like an idiot."

"You did school during the summer? Why?"

But before Hermione could defend herself, their teacher interrupted, "Hello everybody. My name is Mr. Stanton, and I'll be your advanced chemistry teacher. I hope everyone enjoys this class this year. Once you have finished your questionnaire, please return it. Then you need to find a lab partner, and by that I

mean one other person."

Harry's stomach started to churn; they had to pick partners, and there were three of them. Hermione and Ron looked at him, concerned. "Are you okay, mate? You look like you're going to throw up slugs."

"He said we have to pick partners. As in two people. And you're going to work together, aren't you?"

His friends looked at each and shook their heads. "We'd probably kill each other by the end of the semester" said Hermione. "No, you're working with Ron, I'm working with David." She pointed to the blond boy Mr. Stanton had been talking to when Harry had come in. "Everyone says he's the best in the year."

Ron rolled his eyes, "And of course she has to work with the smartest person here; I'm not smart enough for her."

"Don't complain, Ron. You wanted to work with Harry anyway. I believe your exact words were 'Hope I don't have to work with some random person.'"

"Glad we got that cleared up then," Harry inserted, hoping to forestall any bickering. "Let's finish filling out the questions."

Maybe ten seconds passed before Ron looked up from his questionnaire, with a very confused look on his face, "Did he say advanced chemistry?"

"Wow, Ron. That has got to be the most delayed response ever. But yes, he did say advanced, why?"

Now Harry looked a little worried, "Um, Hermione? We've never done the before, so how can we be advanced?"

"That's what you two are worried about? It's really no big deal. Dumbledore decided that since chemistry is a lot like potions, we would all be fine in advanced."

"But in potions we know what all the ingredients are… Harry and I won't know any of the chemistry ingredients."

Hermione laughed at the red-head, "No one knows what the ingredients are, Ron. Everything is labeled with letters because the real names are too complicated and have to many consonants thrown together."

Harry and Ron only looked slightly convinced with Hermione's explanation, but they chose to let it go.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Stanton clapped his meaty hands together, and everybody looked up, "Students. You should have finished your questionnaires by now; it's been 45 minutes. I'll take them now, and you need to sit by your lab partner."

Hermione stood up and Ron and Harry dropped their questionnaires into her outstretched hand; on her way to talk to David she set them on Mr. Stanton's desk.

As the two boys heard Hermione start chatting to the blond boy, Ron slumped in his chair, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "Bloody hell, Harry; this is hard. And I thought being a muggle was easier than being a wizard. I just came from world history, and they have to learn the history of the entire world! And the professor was even more boring than Binns, if that's possible." He sighed again.

"Teacher," murmured Harry, quietly.

"Huh?"

"They're called teachers, not professors. In case you were wondering."

Ron looked him in disbelief. "Are you actually enjoying this?" When Harry shrugged slightly Ron's eyes bugged out further. "You're bloody mad!"

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate language in my class. If you need to leave the class to control yourselves, please, be my guest, but there will be no cursing." He looked each boy in the eyes. It was probably just Ron's imagination that Mr. Stanton took longer on him. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled.

After Mr. Stanton moved onto the next group (two girls who were giggling a little too much to be laughing at chemistry), the boys caught Hermione glaring at them from her place beside the blonde boy.

"Harry," Ron started, his voice low enough not to attract their teacher's attention once again, "remind me again why we signed up for this?"