The Witch of Red, White, and Blue(Harry Potter fanfic)

[Rivergold]

What if...an American was sent to Hogwarts?
And what if, that American was from the center of the country, lived on a mile-long street made of gravel and dirt, and had the amazing ability to get distracted by a single bit of fluff floating through the air? Oh yeah, let’s not forget the animal mimicry; that bit’s important.
Okay, picture this: a little girl with wavy, uncontrollable brown hair, 11 years old, first chair trumpet for the 6th grade band, and diagnosed with ADD.
That's me. Abby.

[Rivergold]

Part 1. The Letter

I was walking home from the bus stop, trumpet case in hand, and stepped up to the mailbox to see what letters I didn't get. I opened the little white door, took out the four or five letters inside, then bent the door back into shape so it would close. I walked down the driveway, trumpet swinging slightly and looking at the letters one-handed. "Mom and Dad; Mom and Dad; Mom; Dad; ooh, me!" As I was almost to the door, I set down the trumpet to open my very own letter. It was a little beat up, and looked like it had gotten wet at some point, but hey, my full name was on here and whoever sent this actually spelled it right! "Abigayle Michele Jackson" was the entire reason I chose to go by Abby. I opened the letter the way my parents would, ripping it with one finger along the top. Inside was a letter, inviting me to go to someplace called Hogwarts. That was strange. I didn't see a YOU WON! anywhere screaming out at me. I walked inside, reading the letter. I was apparently invited to attend a school located in Europe. Named Hogwarts. Who would name a school Hogwarts?
I put all of the other letters on my dad's desk and set up to practice my trumpet in my room, still pondering over the letter, but I soon forgot it as I began to play. I had "Kum Ba Yah" down pretty well; the pattern was easy, but the high 'D' I was having trouble hitting. I played until my lips were too tired to continue, then put away the instrument and the stand.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, making me jump. Well, it was more of a pound really. I peeked through the curtain of my room to try to catch a glimpse of who it was. I couldn't see anyone, so I walked around to the stairs and looked out of the window there. A huge man with a ton of hair -- I mean full, shoulder-length hair and beard -- was standing -- well, crouching -- in front of the door. The pound came again, so I played it smart and put the chain lock in before opening the door. The following one-sided conversation went thusly:
“Um, hi?” I asked through the small space. He looked even bigger from here.
“You are Abi...gayle?” His voice was deep and rumbly. I nodded cautiously in response. I went by Abby, but I didn’t want to correct him in case he didn't care for my comments.
“Are your parents home?”
I shook my head. Well, there went the whole ”Don’t Tell Strangers That You’re Home Alone” thing we learned in school last month.
“Good.”
Wait. Good? I promptly shut the door, closing the little gap. “Holy tardmuffins*.” I whispered to myself. The guy was still there, but I didn’t want to find out why the fact that my parents weren’t home was a good thing. But then the curiosity got to me. I opened the door again, looking cautiously up. “Just why is it a good thing for my parents to be gone?”
He looked down at me. “I spoke with your parents: you’re to switch schools.”
I blinked in confusion. “Wut*?”
He pointed with a finger at the letter in my hand. I guess I had grabbed it when I left my room. “The letter explains it. Didn’t you read?”
I stared at the letter I held. I was to go to a new school, in a new country, in an entirely different continent! I looked back up at the giant. So much went through my mind at once, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, again; “Wut?”

(Should I keep going with this?)