Disclaimer: The above title is a trademark of Scholastic. It is the name of the new Harry Potter book slated to come out in the Summer of 2002. I am knowingly abusing the copyright. Sue me.
Note: I'm trying to keep with the Harry Potter style. Neither Harry nor Kiel (pronounced "Kyle") will have outrageous homosexual libidos. Don't expect much more than hand jobs (possible) during first few chapters.
Chapter 1
American Wizards
Fifteen-year-old Kiel Fletcher sighed as he flipped a hand through his short brown hair. He repositioned his wand in his hand and pointed it toward the great horned owl that flew around the room.
"Opticus Transifigurous!" he whispered and grinned as a beam of red light shot out of his wand. (Twelve and a quarter inches, Rowan and phoenix tail feather, nice and supple. Imported from Britain from a place called Ollivander's) The beam struck the grey owl and Kiel winced as there was a bright flash of light. When Kiel opened his eyes, he found that he could see very very well indeed. He could see the footprints of a mouse in the dust that had settled in the corner of his room.
"This is so friggin' cool," he laughed as he scoured the room, looking for other such tiny and otherwise unoticiable things.
But what would a normal boy be doing in a room with a twelve inch wand and a great horned owl? Nothing. You see, Kiel's not a normal boy. He's a wizard. In fact, he was top of his class last year at the Salem School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.
Kiel flashed a grin one more time and reversed the spell. The owl seemed to be quite glad to get its large yellow eyes back, as the cobalt blue ones clashed horribly with his plumage.
"Sorry about that, Shadow," Kiel grinned as he held up a particularlly thick book, "Summer homework, I've got to work on animal switching spells for Morphology."
"We call it Transfiguration in Britain, son," said the familiar twangy accent of his father, Mundungus.
"Yeah, and your parents also named you Mundungus too, but I wouldn't want that for a name," laughed Kiel, "Besides, Morphology sounds so much cooler."
"I'd get used to calling it Transfiguration, son," grinned the elder Fletcher.
"What?" exclaimed Kiel.
"That's right," smiled Mundungus Fletcher, "we're going to Britain, land of my birth."
"Why?" cried Kiel.
"Business," said Mr. Fletcher with a tone of finality, "you'll be going to my alma mater, Hogwarts."
"What kind of business?" asked Kiel as he cast a collapsing charm on his wand and shrank it to the size of a quarter and put it in his pocket.
"An old friend has called in a favor," said Mr. Fletcher mysteriouslly.
"What old friend?" Kiel asked.
"Nosy little git, aren't you?" laughed his father.
Kiel raised a brow and shot a nasty look at his father.
"Fine, fine," laughed Mundungus, "Albus Dumbledore, you do know him, don't you?"
"Yeah!" exclaimed Kiel, "he's all over my History of Magic class."
"He should be," nodded Mr. Fletcher, "he's a very very important wizard."
"When are we leaving?" asked Kiel.
"Very soon," said Mr. Fletcher as he set down his briefcase and opened it, revealing a comparment that looked as if it extended deep into the floor. He pulled a broomstick from it.
"Wow!" exclaimed Kiel, "Dad, this is a...a..."
"A Laserbot 2.1," his dad grinned, "the latest model."
"This had to cost a fortune!" Kiel whistled.
His dad rolled his eyes and put on a false frown.
"You have no idea," he said, "it's the best quality broom out there, the only thing that comes close is the Firebolt."
"Firebolt?" Kiel asked as he reached out to touch the smooth, humming aluminum frame.
"It's of British manufacture," grinned his dad.
"Of course," laughed Kiel, "everything worth having is British, God save the Queen!"
His father's face softened and he hugged his son suddenly.
"Not everything," he whispered, "you're just as American as your mum was."
Kiel winced at the mention of his mother. She'd been killed twenty years ago by a very bad wizard named Voldemort.
"Dad!" he yelled, pulling away, "I'm a little old for baby treatment."
His dad released him and a wry grin split his face.
"Really?" he asked.
"Yes," Kiel said with mock arrogance.
"Good enough to apparate with me?" he asked.
"YES!!!" exclaimed Kiel.
His father pulled a slip of paper from behind his briefcase.
"It came in to the office today, it's your apparating learner's permit."
"Hell yeah!" Kiel whispered.
"What was that, young man?" his dad asked as he pulled the slip from Kiel's grasp.
"Come on, Dad!" Kiel moaned.
His dad's stern look broke and he grinned a toothy grin that mirrored Kiel's.
"Just don't let your mum hear you, huh?" he said motioning toward the sky.
Kiel put a finger to his lips.
"If I get to apparate," asked Kiel, "then what's the broom for?"
"I expect you to play on your house's Quidditch team just like me," said his dad with a wink.
"What position were you?" asked Kiel, knowing full well what his father was about to say. (He enjoyed getting the elder Fletcher nostalgic.)
"I was a Keeper," said Mundungus with a grin, "not many Quaffles got past me!"
"I'm sure," Kiel laughed.
"Just ask Remus Lupin, or Sirius Bl...no, or Peter Peti...no, Oh yes! You can ask James Pot...oh dear."
"What is it?" Kiel asked with concern as he saw that his father was distraught.
"I've just realized that most of my old school friends are either imprisoned or...dead," he said with a look of inexplicable sadness on his face.
"Oh dad," said Kiel, "I'm sorry."
"Old Remus is still around," the elder Fletcher smiled sadly, "but he's a werewolf."
"Wooly!" exclaimed Kiel.
Mr. Fletcher raised an eyebrow.
"Wooly?" he muttered.
"It means 'cool,'" Kiel sighed.
"I can't keep up with you young wizards today, wot with all that Muggle slang you pick up," Mr. Fletcher.
"Yeah whatever," grinned Kiel, "so can I try out the Laserbot?"
Mundungus Fletcher sighed and rolled up his sleeves. He pulled out his wand and waved it around a bit and muttered a few words.
"There," he said, "I've put up an Anti-peeper Charm. You should be able to fly around a bit without being seen.
"Oh, and Dad?" asked Kiel.
"Yeah?" the elder Fletcher answered before exiting.
"What's the favor?"
"Dumbledore wants me to come to the school."
"Why?"
"To teach."
"What?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts."