Away In England, Season 1

A remake of the very first fan fiction I had created. When 12-year-old Lydia Morrison is shipped off to England, she ends up going to Hogwarts, where she meets Harry Potter and his friends and gets involved in a dangerous school mystery.


3. Season 1, Episode 2: Just who is that Harry Protter kid, Anyway?

Well, I should have realized that Hogwash was an actual magical school. I mean, how could I have not seen the signs? The floating candles, the weird costumes, and even the use of talking hats should have given it away. But I’ll deal with it later.

What are you looking at me like that for? Come on; a girl has to eat!

Anyway, after dinner was over and the school rules given out, (like come on! Why do kids need to know about something like Quibbage? That's stupid!)the kids were all taken into their dorms. Unfortunately, I wasn't among them because I had to go to Mr. Fetch's office to get some robes and a wand.

As I walked with Professor Snipe down the hall, I said to him, "So everything in the school is magical?"

"Yes," said Professor Snipe. "Everything you see here runs on magic."

"I hate to be an Offensive Oliver, but I think that's a dumb idea," I said. "A world that runs on magic is not even plausible. Haven't any of you heard of electricity?"

"Electricity?" Professor Snipe repeated. "We don't talk about that here; that's the work of Meggles."

"And what the heck is a Meggle?" I said. I can't believe that in the last hour, everything I thought I knew about fantasy and magic was being shattered. What is this place exactly? Why did I come here? Was there no other place where I could go, save for the Lone Oak institute?

Who knows how long I'm going to be stuck in this crazy place.

"A Meggle is a person born without magic," said Professor Snipe. "That means you're not allowed to do magic at all."

"Unfortunately, those rules don't apply to Harry Houdini, Siegfried & Roy, and all those other great magicians out there," I said. "I'm sure that somewhere out there, magic shops are filling with people wanting to learn how to do magic tricks. Plus, why should the use of magic be restricted to just one race?"

"For an American student, you seem to know way too much about magic," said Professor Snipe. "How your parents managed to send you here, let alone know about this place, is interesting."

I was about to say that I ran away from home when Professor Snipe stopped walking and knocked on a door. An ugly old man stepped out and stared at us for a very long time. He said, “What is it this time, Severing? Can’t you see that I’m trying to be boring?”

“I don’t care,” said Professor Snipe. “Anyway, this is Miss Lydia Morrison, and she needs a uniform and some robes. She will also need a wand. If you can get me those things, I would appreciate it.”

“Bah! An American!” Mr. Fetch cried out as he stared at me. “Why do we keep having them here? The wizarding community in the States is more advanced than ours, and they have public magical schools! The thought of it! It’s blasphemy!”

“Blasphemous indeed,” said Professor Snipe with a look of disinterest on his face as he took a huge box from Fetch. “Let us hope that she’s not up to any sort of trouble. We have a reputation to maintain.”

Mr. Fetch just harrumphed and went back to his office.

Professor Snipe said, “Come with me and I’ll show you Silverin Dungeons; that's where you’ll be staying for the next seven years.”

OK, I understand that I was given a year to change my behavior or else I would have to go to a mental hospital or military school, but what did I really sign up for? Would I actually have to stay in Hogwash for the next seven years? What about weekends and summer vacations? Or did that not exist here?

Well, it doesn’t matter, as I’m going to change some things around here. No kid should have to be in a school that doesn’t believe in weekends or summer vacations. I already know I don't pay any attention to class as it is, but if I have to go to school over the weekends and holidays, I'm going to go mad.

And madness is the last thing I need.

“Here we are,” said Professor Snipe as he took me to the gateway of Silverin Dungeons. “The password is "Harry Protter sucks". Their words, not mine. Personally, I could care less about him, as he’s too stuck-up for his own good.”

The door swung open, and I found myself in a huge room facing many students. All of them were wearing their uniforms and robes and waving their wands. Well, that inadequacy about me was going to end right now.

Without another word, Professor Snipe left the room. I frowned as I stared at the box he pushed into my hand, not knowing what to do with it. Someone shouted at me, “If you’re looking for the girls’ dorms, it’s to the right.” I yelled out, “thanks,” before running down the hall to the girls’ dorms.

When I got to the dorms, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My suitcase was there, and everything I owned was stuffed into an armoire next to my bed. I guess going to a magical school has its perks, especially if suitcases are taken to dorms and emptied so you don't have to do that yourself.

But I couldn’t afford to waste any time; I had to get my uniform and robes. So I dumped everything in the box onto the bed and rummaged through the box's contents for at least 45 minutes until I found at least four uniforms and robes that could fit me without dragging on the floor or falling off of me. I also noticed that wearing a tie was mandatory at Hogwash, as I noticed that most of the kids in Silvering were wearing the ties. My ties were green and silver, with a tiny bit of white.

With my uniform and robes selected, I folded them neatly and put them aside while I searched for a wand. The wand I chose was made of calabash and had a core of phoenix feather. It was 10 and 1/4 inches long and was unyielding. It was of a medium tone and was roughly carved.

Well, so much for me being left out of the loop, I thought to myself as the wand glowed in my hand and then sparkled. I set the wand aside and put the other contents in the box away and slid the box under my bed. I would figure out this whole “realistic magic” stuff later.

After setting my alarm clock so it could wake me up at 6:00 A.M., I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. It had been a very exciting day, with me leaving my relatives before they could control me to coming to Hogwash and seeing a side of the world I never thought existed. But I couldn't help but feel slightly homesick for what I had left behind, as I thought about my relatives and how they would react when they found out that I was gone. Or maybe they didn’t actually care about me at all, seeing as I was supposed to be at the Lone Oak Institute for an entire year. So maybe they assumed that I was already at the place, which was why they didn’t go looking for me.

At the same time, I began wondering how my parents will react if they found out that I had run away from my relatives and hiding in a magic school. It's not like my parents didn't believe in magic, but all the same they were forced to send me away instead of telling the school that they should allow me to stay.

I mean, what kind of school would tell a parent to throw a child away if they have a perceived mental illness? That's not fair to the parents or the child.

As I fell asleep, I was sure I heard something strange in the walls. Since this was a magic school and not tine Institute, I was bound to hear weird things in the walls. but whatever that things was in the walls, I didn’t like it.

And I certainly wasn’t going to like what was going to happen tomorrow…

I should've known that the next day would be weird. Not weird as in fairies flying around the place, but weird as magic is everywhere and I don't know how to use it.

And at this point, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself when it's time to learn magic.

My alarm went off at 5:45 AM, which threw me off by 15 minutes. With a groan loud enough to break the shutters (if there were any windows in the dungeons), I forced myself out of bed and into the showers. After a prolonged hot shower, I put my uniform on and grabbed my wand. It was time for me to face my uncertain future at Hogwash.

I left the dungeons and made my way towards what was referred to as the Great Hall. I wonder what was so great about this particular hall. Was it really that important that you have to call it the Great Hall? Was it named after anyone in particular? I don't know what it is about the school that has me questioning everything I thought I knew about fantasy and magic, but I don't like it at all.

Anyway, when I get to the Great Hall, I saw a few students there; most of them had their wands out and were waving them around. I found myself sitting next to what appeared to be a set of twins at the Silverin table. One of them said to me, "Aren't you that American student who came here last night?"

"Well, you don't see any other American students here, do you," I said. "And what's the deal with American students coming to this place?"

"Every year, a group of American students come here to study magic for a year," said the girl. "I'm not sure what happened to the group of Americans who were supposed to be coming this year."

"Indeed," said the boy. "I bet the Ministry of Magic decided to pull the plug on that program last year because most of the students didn't get into Griffinheroes."

"What about that issue?" I said.

"Who knows what goes on behind closed doors," said the girl.

"Are you guys Americans?" I asked.

"Oh no, we're from Australia," said the girl. "My name is Sienna Nolan and this is my brother Arthur. You must be Lydia Morrison."

"Yes I am," I said. There was no use denying that. "I take it that you've been in Hogwash for a while, haven't you?"

"We have," said Arthur. "I'm currently in my second year here and my sister's in her fourth year. What year are you?"

"First," I said. "How do things at Hogwash operate?"

"Well, there's the house points system, which I think is rather dumb because people can lose points faster than the house can get them," said Sienna. "Also you'll have to get used to carrying parchment quills around, as they don't allow notebooks and pencils here."

"I think that's stupid," I said. "Parchment and quills are so 16th century; why are people still using them?"

"Who knows what goes on here?" said Arthur. "Personally, I'd rather use a laptop computer than a notebook; it's so much easier to carry a laptop than it is to carry a bunch of old papers and ink that can stain your clothes and your backpack."

"And what about the teachers?" I said. "Are any of them as mean as they are in those movies about boarding schools?" The only reason I asked the question was because I had watched way too many movies about kids in boarding school and believed that the teachers were terrible bullies and the kids were horrible fiends.

"While I can't speak for the other houses, I do know a few things about Professor Snipe," said Arthur. "He's the head of Silverin House and he teaches the alchemy class."

"And he's not as bad as everybody thinks he is," said Sienna. "He will only tolerate you if you do your work and don't waste time in his class."

"OK then," I said, knowing that I would have to learn to stop daydreaming in class. According to Lauren Vandervort, daydreaming was a sign of mental illness and should be avoided at all times. She also told me that fantasy was a lie and the devil's work, but I don't believe any of that. Not when I'm in the school where everything I was told about fantasy is being questioned.

Plus, wasn't me daydreaming the class the reason why I got sent here in the first place?

I was about to reply when I heard a student yell out, "Watch out everyone, Harry Protter is here!"

"And who is he?" I asked as I saw everybody else staring at the door to the Great Hall. A young boy with messed-up hair and horrible glasses walk through the door. He was flanked by a boy with a red hair that desperately need a hair cut and a girl whose hair really could use a perm. When they walked through the door, the other kids in the Great Hall started cheering as the kids from Silverin booed.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the scene. I mean what is this, a group of popular students? I'm going to tell you right now that popular students are the bane of my existence; there's nothing good about being popular. Anybody who tells you to be popular is either an idiot or they actually want you to get hurt by those popular people.

I frowned while thinking about the popular kids in my old school. Those kids caused nothing but trouble, mainly by bullying nerds and beating up people who didn't agree with them. I made sure to stay out of their way which was not easy because those popular kids seemed to know who was a nerd, who was a loner, and who wasn't. I won't say they didn't bully me because they made fun of me for having a huge imagination and not having any friends.

But let's not start.

Sienna said to me, "Oh that's just Harry Protter, The most famous boy wizard in this century. Everybody here seems to think that he's a hero, but I beg to differ."

"And what heroic thing did he do may I ask?" I said. In my book, you're not a hero unless you saved a cat from a house fire or pulled a small child from the lake or stood up to bullies harassing another person. That's what makes a hero.

"They say that Harry is a hero because he survived a deadly curse inflicted on him by Lord Woldymort," said Arthur.

"And I believe that's rather insane," said Sienna. "I mean, nobody ever survives the appakadava curse. When the curse hits you, you're dead. That's all. There's no spell that can bring anyone who's dead back to life."

"So what makes Harry so special that he survived that deadly curse?" I said.

"To be honest, it was his mother who actually took the curse for him when the Dark Lord came to kill his family," said Arthur. "She's the real hero, not Harry."

"I see," I said, "but I don't understand what makes Harry so special that everybody worships him wherever he goes."

"While most people don't know this there's a prophecy saying that Harry is supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world," said Arthur.

"You need to tell me that Harry Protter is some sort of wizarding Jesus?" I cried out.

At this, Arthur and Sienna laughed. Several other kids at Silverin table began laughing as well. The other kids in the hall stared at us for a second and then went back to admiring Harry Protter.

"Wizarding Jesus?" said Arthur. "Are you serious? Harry Protter is nothing like Jesus! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Who knows," I said. "I'm just curious about how and why most people would worship a boy as their savior when there's a bunch of older wizards who could have easily done the job. I mean, who is this Harry Protter person really?"

At this, everyone in the room gasped in horror and turned around to stare at me. I took a good look at the shocked looks on everyone's faces before I said, "You dress in silly robes and school uniforms that not even Catholic school kids would want to wear, you don't know how to use a notebook and a pencil, and you worship a little kid who didn't even lift a finger to save the world. What kind of place is this?"

When no one moved to speak to me, I turn to stare at the boy known as Harry Protter as he turned to stare at me. He stood in his spot with a strange look on his face. He had some sort of mark on his forehead and that mark looked very much like the letter L.

So much for being a hero, I thought to myself. Even those popular kids at my old school do something significant, whether it's sports or wear the nicest clothes or even help out in the community. I have yet to see Harry do any of those things.

Well before a riot could begin, I saw the same old woman I had seen last night come into the Great Hall. She had a stern look on her face, which said, "If you all don't take your seats immediately, there will be no breakfast for you!"

As everyone took their seats, a boy said to me, "You're either very brave or completely foolish for questioning the greatness of Harry Protter."

"Well, someone has to question who Harry Protter is," I said. "I mean, don't they?"

"Yes they should," said a girl sitting next to the boy. "It's like old Fumblebore told everyone that Harry Protter was a hero and made them all believe it. As for me, I've yet to see him do one heroic thing."

"Harry Protter is such a teacher's pet," said another boy. "It's like everyone in the school is required to like him. Everyone but Snipe, that is."

"I see," I said as I stared at the crowd. I knew that give or take I would eventually have to deal with Harry Protter. And when I do, there's going to be no stopping me from exposing him as a fraud.

If only it were that easy.

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