This is a parody and isn't meant to offend anyone aside from bad fanfiction writers.
Ron sighed in relief as he located a compartment that was mostly empty, only holding one kid. Granted, it was the fattest kid he had even seen, built like a donut and taking at least two seats, but Ron wasn't prejudiced. He opened the door.
"Hey, mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
The dark haired, obese kid examined Ron, and then smiled. "Sure, why not?" he said in a strange, nasally, vocal-fried accent.
With great effort, Ron placed his trunk in the overhead rack, and sat down, taking a breath.
"Sorry for asking, but where is your accent from? I've never heard it before?" Ron asked.
The fat kid grinned, exposing three chins. "America, duh! Seriously, you Brits…"
"Oh," Ron said abashedly. "If you're American, why are you going to Hogwarts?"
"Well, I was born here," the dark haired kid said. "But after Voldemort killed my parents, my godfather took me to America, to raise me in a place that wasn't so backwards."
"Oh, I, uhm, sorry, about your parents I mean," Ron stammered, while he got over hearing that name that always felt like a curse. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," he offered his hand to the kid, who met it with a sweaty, meaty hand.
"Well, you might have heard of me already, I'm Harry, Harry Potter," the fat kid said as he shook his hand.
Ron was instantly gobsmacked. This was Harry Potter? He wasn't sure how he imagined the Boy-Who-Lived, but this pile of blubber certainly wasn't it. Apparently, the obesity epidemic in America was just as bad as the papers put it.
"It's, ah, uhm, pleasure to meet you," he said, blushing furiously.
"I'm sure," Harry Fatte—Potter said with a smug grin.
"Hey, what's that?" Ron asked, suddenly noticing a large metallic object with two wheels that he knew was some sort of muggle vehicle, just because his father was obsessed with them.
"Oh, just my Harley chopper," Harry smirked. "I got it as a birthday present from my godfather. I'm gonna ride it straight into the Great Hall in the middle of the sorting ceremony. It's gonna be so freaking epic!"
Ron didn't want to say anything, afraid it might be offensive, but he thought that the idea was actually incredibly obnoxious, attention seeking and just plain cringy. Fortunately, he was spared from making any reply, as just then, the compartment's door opened, and a black kid their age stepped in.
"Excuse me, can I sit here?" he asked.
"Sure—" Ron began, but was stopped when Harry stood up, giving the black kid the stink-eye.
"Sorry, blacks sit at the back," he said with a scowl that reached all of his three chins.
"B-But—" the black kid stuttered.
"You better go before I call the police," Harry said, his accent shifting into an ugly drawl.
The newcomer raised his brows, looking disturbed, before turning back and shutting the door of the compartment behind him.
"Wow, Harry, that was a bit… rude," Ron said. He heard that some muggles looked down on people of other ethnicities and discriminated against them, but that wasn't the case in wizarding Britain. Nor did they force homosexuals to get conversion treatments.
"Yeah, well, he asked for it. Shouldn't have tried to sit where he doesn't belong," Harry scowled, then murmured "How did he even get in here? His family should be too poor to send him to Hogwarts…"
"Um, Harry, Hogwarts is a state school, they let all wizards attend for free," Ron said. "They even have a grant for poor students who can't afford their school supplies."
Harry smashed his fat fist on a seat. "Goddamn Communists!"
"Communists?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, fucking bastards! They want everyone to live equally, black or white, rich or poor, and they steal our hard-earned gold with their taxes!" Harry grunted.
Ron kept his silence, stunned by Harry's recent behaviour. This was surely a far cry from the image the public had of the heroic Boy-Who-Lived. Ginny was definitely going to be disappointed.
Several awkward minutes later, the door opened again, and in the aisle stood an old lady with a cart full of candy. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Ron shook his head and hung it down in shame, mumbling about sandwiches, but Harry's eyes lit up. "I'll take the lot!" he called.
"What, really? The entire lot?" the trolley lady asked, perturbed.
"Yeah, yeah, everything! I want to try some British candy!" Harry said, throwing galleons into the lady's hand.
"But… what about the other students?" the old woman asked.
"Screw them! The early bird gets the worm!"
To Ron's astonishment, Harry literally grabbed the trolley from the lady's hands and pulled it into the compartment. "Here's your tip!" he threw a couple more galleons at her.
As Harry began munching on various candy, Ron wasn't sure whether he was envious or disgusted. It was basic manners to offer your companions some of your candy if you bought a lot. Even Ron's poor family always offered plenty of food to guests. But maybe Americans had different manners.
"Um, Harry, is it not considered polite in America to share your candy?"
Ron regretted his words immediately, as the morbidly obese kid gave him an incredulous look, with chocolate staining half his face.
"What do you mean, share? We're not goddamn Communists! If someone wants candy, he has to buy his own!"
"Right…" Ron mumbled as Harry's mouth emitted a noisy, smelly burp. It appeared that Aunt Muriel was actually right when she complained about Americans and their lack of manners.
He was saved further embarrassment when three boys entered the compartment. One was skinny, pale and blonde, while the other two on his sides looked like half-gorillas.
"I heard that Harry Potter was in this compartment. Are you him?" the blonde was giving Harry a weird look, like he was trying to stop himself from sneering.
"Yep," Harry said, popping the P, while chewing loudly on a chocolate frog. "You want an autograph?"
The blonde boy scowled. "No, I… I heard that you grew up in America. I'd like to offer to teach you about our culture, so you'd know to stay away from its… bad elements," the blonde sneered aside at Ron.
"Teach me about your culture?" Harry snorted. "I heard enough about your bigoted, corrupt, backwards, evil, Communist so-called culture to know how disgusting it is. I don't need help from some ritzy little faggot."
The blonde appeared livid and his bodyguards confused. "Well… well, at least I'm not a fatarse!" he yelled.
"What did you call me?!" Harry stood up, knocking mounds of candy away and clenching his meaty fists.
"Yeah! You heard me! Who knew Harry Potter would be such a lousy porker!"
"That's it! I'm suing you! You fatphobic piece of shit! I'll take everything you own!" Harry called back, his round face red as a tomato.
"Oh, yeah? Well I'll sue you back! See how the Ministry will like your arrogant, fat American arse!"
With a swiftness that Ron would never suspect the porky boy of showing, Harry pulled a gun out of his pocket and shot all three boys in the head.
Ron shut his eyes and put his hands on his ears to protect them from the deafening noise of the loud bangs inside the closed space. Several seconds later, when the noise stopped, he opened his eyes again and looked in horror to see the bodies of the three boys lying on the floor, unmoving and bleeding all over.
"You… You… you killed them…" Ron muttered in shock, staring at Harry.
"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have called me that," Harry gave a lopsided smile and raised the smoking gun to his lips, blowing out the smoke.
"But… they're dead…" Ron muttered, completely befuddled as to how to act in such a situation. "Harry, you need to run… they'll expel you from Hogwarts… you'll be arrested and sent to Azkaban…"
"Oh, please," the fat boy rolled his eyes and sat down, opening a bag of crisps. "I was just standing my ground against some fatphobic dickhead. Castle doctrine, am I right? Besides, kids in America constantly shoot each other in school, it's not a big deal."
"Harry… this isn't America… we don't shoot each other at Hogwarts…" Ron mumbled, feeling his chest beating like a drum.
"What do you mean? You don't have school shootings at Hogwarts?" Harry scowled. "What kind of backwards society is this?!"
"Mate… this is so fucked up…" by that point Ron was talking to himself rather than Harry.
"Listen bro," Harry said. "With all due respect - and there is none - American culture is better than yours, therefore we get to decide what is okay or not. You need to adopt our values and stop being so backwards. Or we'll have to force you to."
Ron bolted out of his seat and ran away down the aisle as fast as he could, not wishing to spend one more second with the lunatic yank. Maybe he should have just sat with the twins and their tarantula.
A/N: For being such a flawed place in the real world, American writers sure like to make their country seem like the pinnacle of all that is good in Harry Potter fanfiction.