It's A Small World

This is based off of a roleplay that a friend of mine and I were doing. He and I just thought it'd be nice to have a story to match along with it. XD

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world isn't mine. I do claim the characters, however, aside from Voldemort, some of the teachers, and probably some Death Eaters along the way.

PLEASE NOTE: The characters are of MY OWN and MY FRIEND'S creation. They were originally ROLEPLAY CHARACTERS, and were created of our own volition. If you would like proof (Or would just like to see the original profiles), please email me. The address may be found on my profile.

* * *

"So, this is England."

Friedrick Kraus accepted his luggage from the Ministy escort that had chaperoned them to a small county on the outskirts of London. As he carried the large trunk against his back and up the stairs, he managed to look out the windows. London, observed the young man, was nothing like Düsseldorf, Germany. The buildings were considerably taller, and from what his dark brown eyes could see, somewhat cleaner too.

"In England," began his father, an extremely tall man with greying blonde hair and brown eyes. "you will attend a wizarding school called Hogwarts -"

"Hogwarts?" hardly incredulous, Friedrick allowed a level of amusement to creep into his throaty tone. Who would run a school that was named after a pig's blisters? "Ist es alles wie Shwarzwald? Does it have five floors, large bedrooms and things like that?"

Lukas Kraus' son dropped the trunk into a relatively large room to the left of the hallway. The walls were a creamy white, having been previously untouched since the house they had just moved into was newly made. His furniture was already set up to his liking. A bed sat complacently by the window facing the city, while the wardrobe (A large maple sort) had been placed in the lower right corner of the room next to the door. Friedrick was pleased to see that his bass guitar and other musical equipment had been set in another corner for him to toy with as well. A cage sat upon the nightstand by the bed, too, though it was empty.

"Hogwarts is bigger." replied his father, pushing a box of miscellaneous items into Friedrick's new room. "But I wish you would speak more English, Fred. Die lerher bei Hogwarts verstehen nicht. The professors do not understand German."

"If I must speak English," the German boy spoke pointedly, a smug smirk upon his features. He turned to watch the sun that was at its peak over London. "Then you must speak it too. Messe ist angermessen."

Lukas chuckled and nodded his acquiescence, cracking his thick neck as he set down yet another box.

"We will need to go down to Diagon Alley, you two."

Bridgette, a thin woman with eyes the color of bluebirds and chocolate brown hair, had stopped on her journey to the master bedroom. She was bringing stacks of comforters and baskets of sheets, all balanced on top of one another.

"Diagonally?" asked the eighteen-year-old son, laughing a little. Wizards in England certainly had a sense of humor. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts... What next?

"Diagon Alley." Bridgette corrected, good naturedly. She was rather beauteous for a forty-three year old woman, her long hair hanging from her in an unswerving river of chocolate. "That is where you will get your supplies, Friedrick. School does start in a few days, after all. Today is August twenty-seventh."

Fred bent and sifted through one of the many carboard containers, looking through a calendar that quite vividly advertised the muggle band Rammstein. "September first." he reported, nodding. Part of him couldn't wait to begin his schooling, but then again, he had heard rumors. Bad things seemed to occur at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lately, and if he could help it, he would not take part. After all, if the school wasn't kept in tact, how was he to research on how to become an Animagi?

"Are you both ready then?" asked Bridgette, her accent thick. She met their gazes and smiled a little. "I know. The movers have offered to do everything for us so that Friedrick can go and buy his supplies. So let us go, ja?"

Lukas and Bridgette led their son into the ready-made living room. There, a lovely little fireplace had been set into the wall, its surroundings painted to look just like marble. Their furniture was a little worn, perhaps around five years old. The pieces did, however, hold a sort of antique charm to themselves. The German woman passed around small bottles of the crystalline blue powder that would allow them to travel to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Diagon Alley!" bellowed the youngest Kraus, having been given the instruction to do so only moments before. He ended up in an age-old tavern, a myriad of humanoid variants occupying rickety old chairs and dusty tables with drinks in their hands (Friedrick could swear he saw one with claws). Moments later, his parents toppled easily into the room, brushing ashes from their hair and robes.

"What do you think, Fred?" Lukas queried as they walked, his thick accent transforming 'think' into 'zink' rather nicely.

"I think it is... Old?" the new Hogwarts attendee chuckled and ran his calloused fingers through his rich brown locks, which merely fell back into place moments later. He followed his parents into a rundown little alleyway that seemed, to the naked eye, to be a dead end.

"Three up, two across..." muttered Lukas, following directions that were written on a tiny piece of parchment. He rapped a certain brick three times with the point of his wand, and Friedrick, somewhat nonplussed, watched as the wall seemed to fold itself away and reveal what must have been known as Diagon Alley.

They walked along, and Fred couldn't help but glance into the colorful, lively windows, which were full of owls, brooms, and even, to his amusement, some clothes for owls. He had to chuckle at the image of Faust, his Giant Eagle Owl, sporting mini tri-colored Heidelberg Harrier robes. He ignored a couple of girls who, giggling, whispered behind their hands and eyed him as if he were some sort of prey to be taken down.

"Fred, we will gather your school supplies." said student blinked out of his humorous little reverie, nodding to his mother with a slight grin, and holding his hand out for the pouch of coins she was handing him. "Go get yourself fitted into robes, ja?"

Friedrick chuckled and nodded, watching them walk off. He'd have to have an idea of where to meet them afterwards, after all. Pocketing the jingling sack of currency, Fred's brown eyes began to shift about, looking for some sort of tailor. At last he found it, after travelling up the street some. It was a dinky little shop with the words 'Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions' plastered upon a hanging marquee in flashy lettering. Unsuspecting of what awaited him there, he wandered in. The store, predictably, wasn't all that full, owing to the fact that most people preferred to get the shopping done early to avoid the last-minute stampede. In fact, it was almost empty aside from a cold-looking woman with black hair and green eyes, and the silhouette of two people behind a curtain, one of which the German could only assume was the owner, Madame Malkin.

The bit of breeze that Friedrick had allowed to seep through the door when he had entered seemed to alert the seamstress to a newcomer, as she stood with a hasty, "Be right with you, Miss." and walked around the curtain with a polite smile.

"Hullo dear. Anythin' I can do for you?"

"Ja -- I mean, yes." mumbled the boy, suddenly self-concious of his strong German accent. He saw the mother of the girl behind the curtain eye him with some disdain. Fred quirked an eyebrow, making a point to avoid her. "I need to..."

"You need new robes, right?" Malkin assumed, cutting through his sentence. Friedrick blinked, nodding.

"Step this way, then." The shopkeeper whisked him away so that he was standing in a cubicle next to the other young woman getting her robes fitted. The divider between them (As there was no wall) was thin and opaque, bolted securely to the cieling and floor. Enough, Friedrick supposed, so that opposite genders would not be able to see each other.

"Hold on please, just a moment." Madame Malkin implored of him, wandering off to finish her earlier project.

"There, now." he could hear her saying to the girl as he watched the silhouette undress itself. "Let's try it without clothing underneath then, shall we? Let me just remove --"

Fred leaned against the wall patiently, somewhat entertained in seeing the girl's mother shift uncomfortably as Malkin attempted to remove a bobby pin magically without touching it from the discarded robes. She'd ended up having the small instrument ricochet off of the walls and straight into the waste bin.

"So sorry dear." she stammered over the girl's bell-like laughter, which caused Friedrick to quietly chuckle. "My wand's been splintered for ages and, well, a woman's got to make a living and I just haven't had the funds to get it replaced --"

"S'alright, don't make a fuss about it." the outline of the girl's hand rose up as if to wave off the apology even as Malkin stepped over to her other side, the broken wand slightly snagging against the cloth that seperated the two booths.

Friedrick stared.

The makeshift wall was either no longer there, or it had turned invisible. Either way, the girl, who did not seem to notice Fred at all even though she was looking directly at him, could be seen clear as day. She had a pretty face, the boy mused, with bright green eyes and full, roseate lips, a clear and tanned complexion to boot. Her hair was wavy and a deep shade of black, with a few red streaks here and there. Despite all of his ideals, and the code of courtesy that he so often followed, she was definitely a looker ("If nothing more." his mind quipped), and it was hard to ignore that her hair flowed around an extremely enticing physique; slightly muscular, with full breasts and, when she turned away from him in order to accept the newly mended robes, a well-rounded bottom.

"She probably plays Quidditch." his mind supplied weakly, although it did not altogether register until he forced himself to look away, ashamed of what he was doing. As such, he was a bit frustrated to see - and feel, for that matter - the crotch of his pants slowly begin to rise.

Well, no point in avoiding it now.

He glanced over again; yes, she was still nude, though a shirt was presently being pulled over her head and eventually covered her bare breasts, stopping just above her navel, the shoulders running temptingly low. Friedrick watched her pull on a pair of heavily chained pants that, somehow, still accented her curves even though they were a little baggy.

"Come along then, Circe. Your father will be waiting." her mother droned in a practiced, snooty voice that did not seem to become the sort of person Friedrick expected her to be, from the limited perspective he had been given in hearing her daughter laugh. To his minor disappointment, the opaqe wall returned, and he watched as the woman led her daughter out of the store, leaving a bag of coins to pay for the alterations.

"Circe, hm?" thought he, rolling his eyes to look up at the ceiling as his lips curved into a smile.

"Now, dear." the remaining woman spoke, startling him as his arm was pulled to the side for assessment, courtesy of a strip of magical measuring tape. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Friedrick." he supplied, smiling slightly as his eyes followed the magical measuring utensil, which swung from limb to limb as if it were a stray vine. Fred allowed her to pin and alter anything she saw fit, with seemingly no trouble (Malkin was making sure she used her hands instead of the wand this time) until he was finally done minutes later, clutching a bag of robes and striding out the door, only to find his parents waiting outside.

"You didn't have trouble, did you?" His father asked, smiling slightly. He was carrying a large bag of schoolbooks, and his mother was holding all sorts of writing utensils, plus a few Owl Treats for Faust.

"Nein." chortled the boy, shaking his head and ambling back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "No trouble at all..."