Jim Dobbins, the boy formerly known as Harry Potter, wanted to bang his head against a wall in frustration. He was sitting at a desk in a rather lovely and comfortable bedroom in a small flat rented by him and Dobby, in their personas of Bob and Jim Dobbins. They could afford a much bigger place but the small flat suited him and Dobby just fine. The reason they could afford a much larger place did not have anything to do with his large pile of galleons that Harry had barely made a dent in. No, it had to do with a little idea that Harry had had when he came across a garage sale one day. Initially, it had just been a way to keep Dobby busy. He had not wanted the little elf to be bored while he attended school after all. So he and Dobby had started buying up old furniture from garage sales. A mix of elf magic and Harry's liberal use of the Reparo charm made short work of restoring even the most decrepit piece of furniture to a wonderfully pristine state. Harry was still somewhat shocked at the sheer amount of money that was currently rolling in from what had originally started as a spur of the moment decision to buy a couple of battered second-hand desks for their flat. Who knew that you could make so much money from selling furniture?
That had nothing to do with his current state of frustration though. No, he was frustrated because books were covering his desk; his desk was in fact, absolutely groaning under the weight of dozens upon dozens of textbooks.
Catching up on a non-magical education after four years at Hogwarts was not proving to be easy. At times like these, he almost wished that he had stayed at Hogwarts. At least there, he had Hermione to help him whenever he had difficulty with his schoolwork.
Still, he supposed that a little bit of studying, scratch that, make that - a lot of studying, was a small price to pay for the knowledge that now he was absolutely safe.
He just hoped that he could get his grades up in time. It would totally suck if he had to attend summer school. Not only would it be a pain but it would also mean that he would miss out on magical summer camp.
That was another one of the truly brilliant things about the States. It turned out that no one here went to a magic only school like Hogwarts had been. Oh, they did have one in Salem, but only the most die hard traditionalists ever enrolled their kids there. Most of the American Wizards, he had met so far, held a great deal of disdain and contempt for the few people that still opted for the Salem School. They considered them hopelessly old fashioned and doomed to a life of uselessness.
The majority of the magical population in the United States simply attended their normal high school along with everybody else. During the school year some of them were home schooled in magic as well but the majority simply concentrated on the standard school curriculum.
Then, in summer, they would attend Summer Camps where they would spend a couple of incredibly hectic months undergoing intensive and comprehensive training in all areas of Magic.
This did not mean that they were unable to use magic for most of the year. No, on the contrary - magical American children were encouraged to use their magic as much as possible in the privacy of their own homes. The Americans believed that this built up the child's power and strength in the Magical Arts. It was only the training, in new spells and magical theory, that was restricted to the summer camps.
Harry had already signed up for one of the most well regarded magical training courses at just such a camp and he was looking forward to it eagerly. The one he had chosen even had an excellent Quidditch program and he was bouncing in anticipation of getting on a broom again. Flying was the thing he still missed the most after all. He had tried surfing as a substitute and had discovered that catching a wave on a board was as good as flying when it came to the sheer adrenalin rush. Now, if only he could stay on the board for more than ten seconds at a time.
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