It was five months since Harry Potter graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was thrust into the real world. He found, rather quickly, that he detested England more than he ever knew. “It’s just not the same anymore,” he told Ron and Hermione, who had entered a now notorious love affair that, in a freak accident, cost Hogwarts the Whomping Willow and two hippogriffs. “I don’t want to be done with school,” he told them, “I want to continue studying, I want to see the world.” It was this desire that led him west, across the ocean to the United States of America. Professor Dumbledore had enrolled Harry in an American college. “The University at Buffalo, my dear boy,” Dumbledore had told Harry. “You will love it like the moon loves the stars.”

Four months later Harry immigrated to America and began school at UB, with the other incoming freshmen. His heart panged for having to leave Hedwig at Hogwarts, for he dared not leave his precious owl with the Durselys. Moving in without the use of magic was more difficult than he could have imagined. After years of using a broom to fly around on campus (which he intended to do at UB with his invisibility cloak on), Harry’s legs had become soft and utterly useless for strenuous activity. Short distances were no trouble, but exerting himself to lug his supplies all over Ellicott proved to be a little too much. He restrained himself to not take out his wand and float all his bags to his new room in Wilkeson with a Bagafloatum charm.

In the first few weeks Harry became accustomed to things in the Muggle world of UB. He tried to switch from his worn-out glasses to contacts, but they ended up being too much of a hassle. Plus, his eyes were always dry and bloodshot and people always told him he looked like he was having too good a time. Harry also had to store his wand and broom away in his closet, so no one would misuse them. One afternoon, though, he returned to find his roommate, Rod, a philosophy major, using his Nimbus to sweep up the floor of their room. “Calm down, Potter,” Rod told him. “Just keeping things somewhat clean. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your vibrator.”

Harry looked at him confounded. “My what?” he asked.

“You know,” Rod said, “your long, black vibrator in your closet next to the broom. Don’t have to hide it dude, it’s cool with me if you’re gay.”

Harry shook his head and chuckled, and began to explain that it was his wand, but caught himself quickly, so as not to expose the world of witches and wizards. Rod nodded and asked if it was for magic, which Harry brushed off, telling his roommate there was no such thing as magic. “It’s okay, dude,” Rod said, “I have a wand too.”

“Really?” Harry asked, utterly confounded. Rod nodded. “For magic?” Harry asked. Rod nodded again and said: “Here, I’ll show you. We’ll get totally magical.” He went to his closet and produced a long hollow green tube with a small dish at the end, the size of a thimble. “I call it Excalibur,” Rod said. “She’s my pride and joy. Want to give it a try?”

“It’s like no wand I have ever seen!” exclaimed Harry. “American wands must be different than the ones we Brits have. How do you use it?” Rod laughed, went to his drawer, pulled out a small Tupperware container, and told Harry to go get a cup of cold water.

When Rod packed the wand full of a small, green leaf and filled the wand with the cold water, Harry thought nothing of it. American wands are truly strange, he thought to himself as Rod proceeded to light the leaf with a small black contraption and inhale the smoke through the hollow center of the wand. He exhaled and passed the wand to Harry (who needed to be shown how to use it). “Come on, Harry,” Rod said. “Let’s make some magic.”

Soon the room was full of smoke and Harry felt his head grow light, like there was a massive amount of space in his skull that his brain had yet to fill. It felt better than drinking Butterbeer and he recalled the night he spent with Cho Chang during his final year of Hogwarts.

“You know,” Rod said, breaking Harry’s thought, “I have always thought there is another world within our own world. I mean, like, this secret society that knows things that we normal folk never could. Isn’t that fucked up? Maybe that’s what Tolkien was thinking about when he wrote his stuff: that other world within our own. I bet it’s run by wizards or some shit.”

Harry nodded for a few minutes, occasionally saying “whoa,” before he told Rod they should use his invisibility cloak and go on an adventure. Rod burst out laughing, and told Harry that he had smoked enough for one night. “Although,” he added, “we could go looking for my friend’s secret stash. I hear it’s the best pipe weed this side of the South Towns.”

“Yes!” Harry shouted, standing up and pointing toward the ceiling. “We will figure out the location of the Secret Stash!” He went and got his wand just as their next-door neighbor, Harmony, walked in the room, saying that it smelled awfully good. Rod nodded and passed her the green wand, which she knew how to use like a pro. Harry, dressed in his cloak, picked the two students off the floor and told them they had to figure out the mystery of the Secret Stash. Rod and Harmony shrugged and agreed to the quest.

“Come on!” Harry shouted as the three young companions started out into the dim halls of Wilkeson Quad. “We go to find…the Secret Stash!”

To be continued…