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.

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4. Season 1, Episode 3: In which Lydia meets Harry Protter and is Unimpressed

OK, so here's where I'm at right now...

I'm at a magical school called Hogwash where people do magic, wear weird costumes, and worship a little boy called Harry Protter. I'm beginning to think that this place is a madhouse. I hate to be a doubting Donna, but why would I go to a school that worships a boy who isn't the textbook definition of a hero? Like do I want to know how the kids are going to react when I tell them that Harry Protter is a fraud?

Well, before I get to that point, I'm going to talk about how what happened when some of the other students in Silverin reacted to my anti-Harry Protter rant.

Or as I saw it:

"So, I hear that you're that American student who came here and joined our house," said the boy with hair so white it was blinding.

"Well," I said, "I was highly unaware that I was expected here."

"Anyway," said the boy, "you've caused quite a stir when you came to the Silverin dungeon last night. The question is, how did you get here?"

At that, I froze. How was I supposed to tell these kids that I didn't belong at Hogwash, that I was supposed to be at Lone Oak Institute because I had a mental disability. But then I wondered, did the magical world even have a concept of illnesses, especially since they could cure illnesses at the drop of a hat? Did they know what mental illnesses were?

Finally, I said something akin to the truth: "My parents were upset to know that I wasn't being sociable at my old school, so they sent me here."

There we go. Short, simple, and to the point. I didn't even have to tell them that I was sent here because of my daydreaming. Not that I wanted to, of course.

At that, the girl said, "Well, at least your parents didn't send you to that Lone Oak Institute. From what I've heard, it's a horrible place for kids. Nobody treats them right and the doctors and nurses keep them isolated from their families. That's why so many of them end up homeless living on the streets when they're 18 years old."

"Pastie, you know that's a big fat lie," Sienna snapped as she stared at the other girl. "The Lone Oak Institute has helped improve the lives of hundreds of disabled people for many years. Don't believe everything you read in that quack magazine."

Pastie Pimpleton glared at her, saying, "And I know your mother's fighting to keep that place open so people can dump their unwanted relatives there and not feel guilty about it."

"OK, that's enough, Pastie," said the boy. To me, he said, "I'm glad you chose to come here instead of Lone Oak Institute. My father thinks that place is a grievance, and he helps support the place, as this place is usually for wizards."

"And you are?" I said as I glared at him, hoping that he would stop talking about Lone Oak Institute and switch to a different subject. Preferably something else that's not about a place I should have gone to.

"My name is Drake Molly," said Drake, "and I'm kind of a big deal around here."

"Rumor has it that his father is very rich," said Farley Shrimp.

"I heard that his family owns at least three islands in the Caribbean," said Harley Hammer.

"Indeed," I said as I stared at Drake. He seemed to be one of those rich kids that I despise. Even though my parents tell me to give those rich kids a chance, I can't help but reject and despise them. I mean, who do those kids think they were, with their shiny expensive toys and their parents' money in their back pockets? I think they're all conceited.

Also, I'm happier being poor, despite how bad the world makes being poor is.

Yet, I look at Harry Protter and I shake my head as he basked in the admiration of his many fans. Just who did he think he was, anyway? I needed answers and I needed them now.

I forced myself to walk towards the Griffinheroes table. Everyone there stared at me, like I had grown two heads. I said, "I hate to bother you, but I just had to see Harry Protter for myself."

"And you're a Silverin, which means you're not worthy to speak to our hero," said a girl. "Go back to your own group, you despicable snake, and don't sully our table with your filthy hands."

"Oh shut up, you," I snapped as I glared at her. "You don't own me, so what gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

Just then, Harry approached me, flanked by his friends Runt Weasel and Harmonica Garner. He said, "Aren't you that American girl who went to Silverin?"

Wow. Less than 24 hours at Hogwash and already my reputation precedes me. It's a good thing nobody knows I'm a daydreamer or I would never hear the end of that.

But I will deal with it later.

I said, "Well, I wouldn't know, seeing as I've heard a great deal about you. Now tell me what heroic thing you've done since you first came here?"

"He's the smiler in our Quibbage team!" yelled a boy.

"Ever since he joined the team, we've been beating Silverin left and right," said another girl.

"I heard he went down to the school's basement and did battle with Lord Woldymort for the Pilsober's Diamond," said another boy.

"Well, that's interesting," I said, even though I could care less about what Harry did, "but I've yet to see him do anything of that sort!"

"You mean, you don't believe that I'm the greatest wizard who ever lived?" Harry cried out.

"Nonbeliever!" Runt cried out.

"Shun the nonbeliever!" yelled Harmonica.

"Shun!" yelled the students in Griffinheroes.

"Whatever," I said as I left the table and returned to Silverin. Arthur saw me and said, "So you told them that Harry wasn't the hero they think he is?"

"They called me a nonbeliever," I snapped. "Just who do they think they are?"

"They're a bunch of fools," said Arthur. "You're not the first person to question Harry Protter's lack of heroism."

"Oh, are we talking about that Harry Protter?" Drake snapped. "I despise that little brat!"

"Whatever did he do to you?" I asked.

"He refused to shake hands with me when I first met him," said Drake. "In fact he called me a spoiled stuck-up brat and insisted on hanging out with those Weasels. The entire Weasel family is the most idiotic prejudiced band of jokes that ever walked the face of this earth."

"I heard that Harry turned down Drake's offer of friendship," said Pastie. "He said, and I quote, "I don't make deals with anyone who's evil, including those who are in Silverin." And if that wasn't the most humiliating thing I heard, I don't know what is."

I had to take a step back and think. On one hand, I was in the most unpopular house in Hogwash, yet I couldn't help but wonder why everybody would want to worship Harry Protter because that guy wasn't a hero. I mean, what kind of hero judges kids based on what houses they go into? I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to make sure that Harry and his idiotic friends pay for not only insulting my intelligence, but making everyone in Silverin look bad.

You know I don't have time for that.

Well, after that, the classes began. Which meant it was time for me to grab my things and get to class, where I would have to learn about magic when magic was never taught in my old school.

Here we go.

*~*~*~*~*

OK, so my first class was magical transformations, which I'm pretty sure I won't be able to pass, not even with my new magic wand. But that's not what I'm talking about.

Here's what happened during that class...

I walked into the classroom and saw everyone staring at me. By now they all knew who I was and which house at Hogwash I had gone into. Just then, two boys who were running behind me colliding into me, sending me stumbling forward and nearly face planting into a nearby table. As I got back on my feet and trying to glare at the two boys who were rude enough to knock me over, the old woman I had seen when I first came to Hogwash stared at the boys, saying, "Why are you boys late to class?"

Everyone turn to stare at Harry and Runt as they stared at the teacher. "I'm sorry, Professor McDonaldame," said Harry, "but I was busy signing autographs for the new kids. We celebrities don't have easy lives, you know."

"It doesn't matter what you are; all I care about is that you boys show up for class on time," said Professor McDonaldame. "Now take your seats."

Well, unless I'm wrong, it was clearly evident that Professor McDonaldame was not impressed by Harry's lack of enthusiasm for his education, but he would rather bask in the limelight. I frowned as I rolled my eyes staring at Harry Protter. mean, what's wrong with that guy? Doesn't he know that going to school is more important than being a celebrity?

Anyway, the class progresses without too much trouble, unless you consider Harmonica as the worst student in the class. I mean, something is definitely wrong with her; every time the teacher asked a question, her hand is always the first in the air, waving quite rudely, as if the rest of the class was either stupid or they had no right to speak in class. I had to fight the urge to slap her across the face and/or tell her to shut up. I knew she was one of those super smart kids; I despise super smart kids as much as I hated those filthy rich kids.

My whole life, my parents and many teachers told me that I would be a better person if I made the honor roll like all the other kids were doing. I laughed at them and called them liars, knowing that the honor roll was a club for antisocial people who despise being around others and spent all their time studying. I already was a poor student who daydreams in the middle of class, and I know I can't sit still and study to save my life, so why would I want to be on the honor roll?

I'll deal with that later when I confront Harmonica and and demand an answer to what her problem is. Doesn't she know that there are other kids in the class and they won't want to answer questions as well?

Or let me rephrase that: does she even care that other people want to participate in the class and she's taking the right to participate away from them?

As for Runt, he seemed to be a loser who wondered how and why he even chose to hang out with a egoistical jerk and a bossy know-it-all. In fact, he had his head down on the table in front of him, wishing that he could go into a closet somewhere and scream for a while. I felt sorry for the boy and wondered how I could help that boy get away from those two jerks, as a boy like him needs normal friends, not jerks.

Well, the magical transformations class wasn't the only class I had that day. Far from it. In fact, there were other classes where I had to deal with Harry and his stupidity and his friends who are no better than him.

In Professor Fingle's Charms or Us class, the same thing happened. Harry acted like a big-time celebrity, Harmonica acted like a know-it-all, and Runt just wanted to go into a nearby closet and scream his head off. And I wanted to slap everyone else for going along with these stupid schemes.

This pattern continued until we reached alchemy class, which was taught by Professor Snipe. This was when Silverin and Griffinheroes were together. I saw Arthur waving to me; he had some advanced magical classes, which is why I didn't see him in the other classes. He said to me, "How's your day going?"

"Not too good," I said as I glared at him. "Harry is such an egoistical jerk, I want to slap him. Plus, that Harmonica is such a bossy know-it-all and I'm sick of her! How can this school function with these two idiots around?"

"Who knows?" said Arthur as we took our seats. "Luckily, Professor Snipe makes them shut up long enough for the other kids to actually learn alchemy."

"Well, that's good to know," I said as I saw the teacher approaching the front of the class. The rest of the class immediately stopped talking and turned to stare at him. Everyone except for Harry Protter and his groupies, of course.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

"Mister Protter, is there a reason why you're more interested in fame than your educational career?" said Professor Snipe.

"Probably because you're nothing but an ugly worm-nosed snot-eater," Harry said as his groupies laughed.

At that, everyone gasped in horror as they stared at Harry. At this point, Runt looked like he was ready to either explode or curl up and die of embarrassment. I wondered how much more stupidity he could handle before he would either beat the stuffing out of Harry or just walking away from him altogether. (You see, this is why I don't have any friends; I don't have to deal with anyone's crap, nor will I have to deal with anything they do or say.)

I found myself standing up and saying to Harry, "What you just said to that teacher was the most insanely idiotic thing I've heard. At no point during that completely pathetic insult did anything you say make an iota of sense. In fact, everyone in this room is dumber for having been exposed to that crap that you pulled. I offer you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul."

At that, everyone in Silverin applauded; no one was able to stand up to Harry Protter and certainly no one was allowed to defend a Silverin, especially Professor Snipe. But everyone in Griffinheroes glared at me, as if I had intended to destroy their hero.

Yet four students from that group said to me, "Thank you very much for saying that. We had wanted to tell Harry to stop acting like a jerk for a while, but those fools wouldn't let us."

"That's because they don't know who the real hero is," said a fifth person. "I'm Nerval Shorttop and I'm the real hero."

"And let me guess: nobody cares about that because they're all so goddamned obsessed with Harry Protter?" I snapped.

"It's true," said Arthur as the other Silverins stared at me. "Nobody cares about you unless you're in Harry Protter's group. And even then, they don't dare associate with you at all, not if you don't like Harry."

"Well, I bet it really sucks not being special," I said. I knew that being special was an unforgivable crime in an adolescent's world; those deemed "special" were shunned and rejected by their peers, especially if they had a disability. (And I learned that people between the ages of 10-19 want to be accepted and to have friends; if neither of those things happen, that person ends up as a loner with issues of loneliness and rejection.

How and why that never affected me, I'll never know.)

"It does," said Arthur. "People say that you're special, yet they treat you as anything but. As for Harry Protter, he doesn't even know that he's being set up for a terrible ending because somebody was too lazy to be the real hero."

"Oh, is that so?" said Harry as he stared at Arthur. "You really think I'm not even that special?"

"Oh, I know you're not that special," I said. "Most boys I know think they're special and they make up stuff about them being awesome when they know they're not. And you are the worst of them."

"How could you say that Harry isn't special?" said Runt. (That's almost the first time I heard him speak all day.) "Don't you know that Harry survived an encounter with the Dark Lord when no one else wanted to?"

"No I don't, and I don't care," I said as I stared at Runt. "How can you be friends with someone who isn't a real hero?"

At this, the Silverins cheered as they stared at Harry. To them someone was finally putting him in his place. But little did I know that Harry had one more trick up his sleeve.

Harry said, "You think you can just show up here and tell me how to live my life? Like I'm not supposed to be a celebrity? Like I should be like everyone else? You think this is a game? I've been famous my whole life and you're just a silly American who cares nothing for the plight of others, yet you're willing to play your video games and get fat and ugly. No wonder why your country keep sending kids like you here to be educated!"

I found myself rolling my eyes as I stared at Harry. Just who does he think he is? I bet he doesn't know anything about American history, let alone about the country that I came from. I also bet that he doesn't even pay attention to the news, as he's so wrapped up and how special and famous he is.

"You think you can insult my country and assume that we're all fat and dumb?" I snapped back. "Well, excuse me for not slapping you!"

"You better be careful," said Harry. "This is Harry Protter you're messing with and I don't play games with anyone!"

I then said, "Well, if Harry Protter wants to play this little game, then I say, "Game on, Protter!" Now watch as I become better than him and destroy everything he loves."

The Silverins cheered again as I turned to glance at Harry. He had an ugly scowl on his face, as if to say, "So that's how you want to be? OK then. Do you want this? It's yours, my friend!"

Let's just say that nothing in the world prepared me for the time I would meet Harry Protter and challenged him to a popular kids contest.

Somebody's going down.

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