So Waggy wanted to write the first chapter…so she did. =3 It's still basically introducing everything. Just kinda for the heck of it and it gets Harry into America.

No, I don't own the things I don't own. No suing me! -cringe-

Enjoy!

It hadn't taken long to see Ginny off to the Burrow, her arms laden with a squirming toddler and a large duffel bag. The fire was lit, crackling rather merrily to one side as Harry attempted a brief hug, though gave up quickly as James had a wonderful time hitting his father with the rattle in his hand.

"You better keep in touch," the young woman had warned, hoisting the small boy further up her hip. "I have no idea where you'll be, and it seems rather pointless to send an owl if they'll return after you do…" Harry chuckled.

"Well, I know exactly where you'll be. I'll definitely get a hold of you; have to keep you updated on how weird the place really is."

As she stepped into the green flames with a shout of 'The Burrow!' the man had given a final wave. It briefly dawned on him how odd this had seemed when he was twelve…fire that could take you to any other grate you wanted? Granted, everything about the wizarding world was strange back then. Now he was rather amused as he saw Muggles board trains or busses. They still assumed they had the most advanced means of transport that could be found.

As he left the house, Harry automatically reactivated the basic security spells. Admittedly, no one could actually see the place unless they had been told of it, but paranoia came with the job. Coming into the entrance hall, he shot a grin back at the portrait of Mrs. Black. They had never managed to remove it from the wall, but threats of having the wall itself removed had convinced the hysterical woman to settle for withering looks every time they passed.

"Master Harry is going out, yes?" His grin widening slightly, Harry knelt to meet the house elf's eyes.

"Yeah, I'm heading off," he confirmed, accepting the traveling cloak offered. "Ginny's already left with James, so it'll just be you for a while, alright?" Kolsi nodded vigorously, bowing as the man stood again.

"Kolsi will keep the house most excellent for Master Harry, oh yes," she assured. "And Master Harry will return by the month's end, correct?" Kolsi was probably one of the few elves that actually listened to conversations that went on around the house. Most seemed to only pay attention to things directed at them, which tended to get extremely repetitive.

"That's right. A month, at the most. That would be a bit extreme, really, but I'm not entirely sure what to expect." He stooped to shake her hand, something which seemed to give her no end of joy. "Take care of things, alright? Feel free to buy any food you need and get a hold of Ginny if you really need anything."

"Oh yes, thank you Master Harry!" the elf chirped, bowing once again; one habit they couldn't manage to break her of…"Have good travels! Kolsi will have things spotless when you return!" Waving to her as she pattered off up the stairs, Harry chuckled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the wall. One of the first things they managed when moving in here had been removing the multitude of elf heads. They had been replaced with plaques listing names and dates of service to the house. Kreacher's was nearest to the door and the most ornate as Hermione had demanded she be allowed to make it. Pausing at the black door, he absently ran one hand along the engraving added toward the bottom of the plaque; Completed every task, even in the face of Death. Ron had complained that it was sappy beyond belief, but Harry assured him that the elf deserved something sappy.

Cloak over one arm and a rucksack in the other hand, Harry shut the door behind him with a snap. Taking a moment to maneuver his grips, he waved his wand briefly over the locks before tucking it into his pocket again. The man glanced up at the upper levels, briefly wondering how quickly he could get this job done with so he could come back again. Gaze sweeping the street, even though he was aware that no one could see him on the top step anyway, he turned on the spot and was immediately pulled into the strange constricting vacuum that he assured Ginny he had never gotten used to.

The Ministry seemed to suddenly fall into his line of vision as he was released again and Harry barely paused before striding out of the Apparating area. It wasn't extremely busy this time of day, but having someone land on him was never a welcome thing. Nodding briefly to the guards at one end of the hall he set a direct course for the Minister's office, habit guiding his steps. The lift was empty, apart from the ever-present memos that fluttered around the light; a few followed him out onto the fourth floor and down the hallway to the large door that was the man's destination. A small label announced it to be the office of Stanley Evenrod. The Minister had never gone to any lengths to remind people of his position, really, something others had been insistent on proclaiming. Harry rapped on the door, pushing it open with one shoulder as a loud "It's open!" emanated from the room. Evenrod sat at his desk, brown eyes still locked on the paper in front of him as the man stepped inside. There was a few seconds of silence before he pushed it away with a slight sigh and then looked up at his visitor with a grin.

"Morning, Harry," he greeted, leaning back in his chair as he glanced the young man over. "And to what do I owe this visit?" Evenrod wasn't an impressive looking man, by far. Though he was tall, he was as thin as a broomstick and not one of the strongest officials around. Dusty brown hair often fell over his eyes and it wasn't uncommon to see a spot of ash on his face from the times spent assisting in other departments. He was likeable, though, and could be deadly serious when the need arose. Though many had asked Kingsley to run for the position, he had turned it down and Evenrod was certainly the other best choice.

"Minister," Harry returned, nodding politely. "I apologize for the interruption, sir, but I just need to check out before I go."

"Harry, please…formality level needs to lower." Evenrod waved one hand for emphasis, barely containing a laugh. "How many times do we have to go over this?" Harry grinned, shrugging briefly.

"Apparently a few more, sir. You know how thickheaded I can get." The Minister did laugh at that, shaking his head.

"Oh trust me, I know…So you're headed out today, then? Any idea as to when you'll get back?"

"Not really, sir" he said. "I'm not all that sure what I'll have to get straightened out once I get over there, but I will be back within a month. It could take as little as a week, but there's no way of knowing at the moment." Evenrod nodded slowly, his grin slipping into a very slight frown.

"I see…And this is a personal business trip, you say?" Harry nodded again, realizing that he was now treading on thin ice.

"Yes, sir. I normally would find someone else, but there are a few things that I specifically may be needed for. My department should be fairly quiet while I'm gone, I made sure to finish up all the reports. If any demanding ones come in, Farris will take care of it." Ah, evading the actual question…something that had been a necessity back at school. He was pleased to see he hadn't lost the skill since then. Evenrod contemplated him for a moment, obviously spotting the vagueness of the answer before shrugging it off.

"Right, well I wish you the best of luck," he said briskly. "The main desk already knows you're leaving, so you can just take a Floo to the transfer station in New York and find your way from there."

"Thank you, sir," Harry murmured, shaking the Minister's hand quickly. "I'll make sure to let you know when I get back." As he pulled the door open again, allowing a small flock of memos to swoop inside, the young man gave a final wave before backing out. Stanley Evenrod sighed, pulling the next report in front of him and peering at it for a moment.

"Amity Park…" he muttered, reaching for a quill. "What in Merlin's name has to be done in Amity Park?"

"Morning, sir." The greeting was accompanied by a large yawn and Harry looked around as he stepped out of the grate, absently brushing ash off of his cloak. A rather disheveled young man stood to one side, clipboard in hand and having the obvious look of one who had been up all night.

"Morning," Harry returned with a grin. "Long night?" The guard gave a half-hearted chuckle, scribbling something down on the paper.

"Every night is a long night on this shift. You're coming from London, right? No sane person could be that awake if they were out of the States. It's already a reasonable hour there if I remember the time zones correctly." Harry nodded, glancing quickly around at the seemingly deserted floor.

"Straight from the Ministry. What time is it here, then?"

"A little after three thirty," the guard told him, glancing quickly at his watch. "Five hour difference." Stretching his arms quickly, he gestured to the left at the end of the hall. "The front desk can help you get anything you need and point you to near anyplace in the country…if they're awake, that is." With a chuckle, the newcomer gave a brief wave.

"Thanks, sir. Try not to fall into one of the fires."

"Haven't managed that in almost a year, don't worry…"

The door swung softly shut behind him as Harry strode out, hoisting his bag further onto his shoulder. The place was quiet and fairly dark, the light bulbs glowing dimly every few yards. He found it rather strange that they actually used light bulbs; the Ministry still used torches in many places or just lit everything with magic. It seemed to be modeled after the Muggle government buildings, really. The floor was basic tile, the walls seemed to be drywall and the door handles were terribly boring. The thought made him laugh as he realized just how absurd it sounded. At least the portraits were the same…or pictures, rather. None were paintings, but they did all appear to be sleeping soundly. The sound of light breathing was nearly drowned out by the man's footsteps and he was grateful that they all seemed to be heavy sleepers. Waking one at three thirty in the morning wasn't a good idea no matter what country you were in. Pausing to glance at a sign on one wall, Harry frowned slightly as he read it. The front desk was on the first floor, naturally…but where were the lifts? With a snort he continued down the hall, green eyes scanning every corridor he passed. Ah, there it was, stuck in some unobtrusive corner as usual. Pressing the 'down' button, he glanced up at the small lights above the door. A large sign next to them proudly declared 'Elevator' which deepened his puzzled frown. Was that what they called lifts? Merlin, these Americans were strange. Further inspection of the door revealed a smaller sign, this one informing the user to not take the lift if the building happened to be on fire. It suggested tumbling down a flight of stairs or (as a scribbled note at the bottom said) simply Apparating out. Harry was laughing as the doors slid open with what seemed to be a satisfied ding. The inside seemed to have more of a magical influence than the outside did; there were no buttons like Muggle lifts had, and a rather quiet voice spoke up as soon as the doors shut.

"Welcome to the Magical Congress," it seemed to purr, reminding Harry very forcibly of Luna. "What is your destination?"

"Er…first floor. Please." He didn't really know why he said please, but it just seemed like something you were required to be polite to. As it began descending, he was grateful that there wasn't any attempts at music. 'Elevator music' was something of a running joke when anyone mentioned America. There was another soft ding as it reached the first level and the doors slid open again.

"Enjoy your stay, sir," the voice told him, echoing slightly in the entrance hall as he stepped forward. The place was…well, large. It seemed just smaller than the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts, and that was saying quite a lot. The statue was the first thing to catch his eye; it rivaled the Ministry's in size, but the subject was certainly different. The bad lighting combined with the fact that he was facing its back didn't allow Harry to discern immediately what exactly it was. Pausing for a moment outside the lift, he then strode forward, automatically trying to walk quietly. Every sound reverberated, and he seemed to be the only one in the hall at the moment. Circling to the statue's right, he stopped in front of it and grinned. A griffin…fitting. The creature was by far the biggest being in the work, and it took him a moment to spot the others. What appeared to be a house elf, goblin, and mermaid were all looking up at the griffin and the first thought that came to mind was the Ministry's fountain. Something seemed different with this one, however; their faces weren't ones of adoration or servitude, but of simple respect. After another glance, Harry caught sight of two people between the creature's paws. Wizards? He frowned slightly, stepping forward in an attempt to see them better. One was indeed a wizard, as he was holding a wand at his side. The other, however, was empty-handed. His expression was a combination of respect and slight bewilderment. A Muggle…The engraving underneath the figures was short and seemed to ring some bell of familiarity in the man's mind; …With Liberty and Justice for All.

"It's called The Griffin's Protection." Harry jumped at the sudden voice, his hand halfway to his pocket before he spotted the receptionist seated at the desk. She looked nearly as tired at the guard had been, though there was a book propped open on her knees and a torch in one hand. At least she had a way of keeping herself awake. A few locks of black hair fell into her face as she looked up and the girl brushed them away impatiently. She couldn't have been older than nineteen…this shift was probably the first job out of school she had gotten, a rather impressive one for someone her age. As the man approached the desk she reached underneath to flip a switch. The lights above the area flickered into life and she flipped off her torch, pushing the book to one side. Twilight? he wondered as he glanced at the cover. What does twilight have to do with apples? Shaking the thought away, he glanced at her nametag quickly.

"Morning, Miss Bartol," he greeted with a grin. "It's an…impressive statue, to say the least. Quite a bit different from what I'm used to, to be honest." The receptionist studied him for a moment before a quick look of understanding crossed her face.

"You're from England, aren't you?" she inquired, one eyebrow raising. "The accent's unmistakable, and I've seen a picture of the fountain you guys have in the…it's the Ministry there, right?" As he nodded, Bartol gave a small snort. "Yeah…I had to study a bit about the different governments. That fountain always seemed to touch a nerve, the expression the elf had…" She rolled her eyes briefly before picking up a pen and pulling a form out of one drawer. "What's your name then, sir?"

"Harry Potter," he told her, lowering his bag to the floor and leaning against the desk. "I'm not sure if Evenrod sent word of my coming, it's not usually needed…" The girl shook her head, jotting the name down at the top of the paper.

"Nah, we just need to know you're here and that you don't plan on blowing anything up during your stay." As green eyes widened, she glanced up with a grin. "It's a joke, sir. Now, if I can see your wand for a minute…" He fished it quickly out of his pocket, handing it to her with only a very slight hesitation. After all, they did the same thing back in London. He had never figured out the purpose behind it, but apparently it was a common practice. The machine seemed exactly the same, too; a small scale with only one side that spit out a slip of paper after she had set the wand onto it. Ripping off the paper, the girl glanced it over quickly. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, right?" Harry nodded, accepting his wand as she handed it back.

"If I might ask…why the light bulbs?" he inquired, gesturing at the hanging lights above the desk. Bartol shrugged lightly, still scribbling at the form.

"We usually keep them off at night. No one's here, saves electricity. It's just easier to see when I do have them on."

"Well no, I meant…" The man paused, attempting to find a less blunt way of asking the question. "Why do you use them at all? The Ministry usually just has various types of magical lights or even torches…light bulbs are really a Muggle thing, aren't they?" The pen stopped moving and she continued to stare at the paper for a moment before looking up with a slight frown.

"You didn't really get the statue, did you?" she asked quietly and Harry glanced back at it. "…Liberty and Justice for All. That's not just the Congress' motto, Mr. Potter, that the country's lifeline. You British people may segregate yourselves from Muggles, but we're essentially a part of them. Or they're a part of us, I can't really remember which way that goes." The girl paused as if pondering it for a moment before continuing. "We don't abandon things just because the Muggles use them. The place needed to be lit. Light bulbs worked, they were cheap, and there's no chance of some spell going wrong if the wrong person tries to fix it. We just get a ladder and change them." She bent over the paper again as the man stared at her, eyes wide.

"Where…where's that from?" he asked finally. "The motto, I swear I've heard it before." Bartol laughed at that, black hair flying as she shook her head.

"The Pledge of Allegiance? Really, it was your country that made us write it, after all. We can basically thank England for the way things shaped out here, as we were trying to get as far away from it as possible. 'All men are created equal' and all that." She finished the last line, signing the bottom with a slight flourish and ripping the bottom section off carefully. "Here, you keep this in case any of the paranoid officials asks for it…I stick this part in here…" The girl slipped the remainder of the paper into a drawer as Harry stuck his into his pocket. "And you're good to go, I think." The man blinked once, looking her over again quickly and then down at himself.

"I, uh…I think I might need to get some clothes," he told her. "The styles back home are quite a bit different, and I don't exactly want to stick out here." Bartol chuckled, pulling out a blank sheet of paper and beginning to write something on it.

"Right…you still have corsets and coat-tails there, do ya? Well, the store's not far from here. Only place that's open at this hour, and they're cheap. You have money, right?" Her eyes widened slightly as he pulled out a few Galleons and the girl shook her head. "No, I mean our money…No? Ah, crud, I'm slow at making money changes. Just one sec…" She dug through her drawers again, tugging a rather crumpled paper out and laying it on the desktop. "Right…so how much are you getting?"

She certainly wasn't the fastest, but Harry was impressed nonetheless. He had always been terrible at math, and he never really found any times that required it. The calculator the receptionist pulled out intrigued him, but he felt it would be too Mr. Weasley-esque to ask about it. As Bartol handed him the bills, he realized it was more of a Mr. Weasley moment than he had thought.

"Wait, so…this is a twenty? Right, there's the number…but this is a five. Merlin, why are they all the same color?" It seemed he was amusing the girl immensely and he quickly tucked the money into a pocket on his bag figuring he would risk looking like a weirdo. Taking the paper he was offered, he glanced over the directions to the store as she explained with vague pointing and gestures.

"Just down the block here, take a left on 32nd and then it's in the plaza on the right. You really can't miss it, the sign's huge." As he shrugged on his cloak and lifted his bag again, Bartol switched off the lights once more and picked up her book. "The information area will be open at eight," she told him. "You can get changed and get some breakfast before then. I get off at five, so I doubt I'll see you." Harry grinned, giving the girl a wave.

"Pleasure meeting you, then, and thank you for the help." He was pushing the door open when her voice stopped him again and he glanced over his shoulder at the dimly-lit desk.

"Wait a minute…Harry Potter right? Weren't you the one who ended up killing Voldemort all those years back?" It had taken her this long? Harry chuckled, shrugging.

"Riddle? Yeah, that was me. It's been a long time, let me tell you…" He waved once more before stepping out onto the street and glancing down at the paper in his hands.

Wal-Mart? What kind of name is that?

And so Harry gets his first taste of American culture. XD Ah, culture clashes…I love 'em! I apologize if I get some of the British stuff wrong, I'm just going from what the books say, so…-shrug- No knowledge of England other than that. Let me know and I'll fix it!

Yeah, the plot has yet to start. That's why I felt I was able to get this one up. =3 It's funny and it gave me a short break from Danny Phantom writing. So, review, let me know what ya think…things should start happening in the next chapter! (Including harry going to Wal-Mart! At about four in the morning! In New York City! Aaah, that should be fun. ^^)

Many kudos!

~Waggy