A/N: Welcome to the most AU thing I have EVER written. When I found out that the actor who plays Magnitude on 'Community' also played Lee Jordan in the 'Harry Potter' movies (NO, SERIOUSLY! HOW CRAZY IS THAT! My brain is officially wrinkled), there was no way I wasn't writing a fic for that. Enjoy, and review!

The year following the end of the war was a long one.

Days seemed to drag on in their teary eyed, black clothed depression. Nights were colder – emptier. Happiness bubbled under the surface, but the relief was hidden under a thick layer guilt. Guilt for surviving, guilt for not being fast enough or strong enough or smart enough to save those who had died. People were just plain sad.

Lee Jordan was not accustomed to being sad.

His entire life he'd been at the epicenter of every party. If you were having fun, it was probably because he was there entertaining you. When he'd met Fred and George on their first train ride to Hogwarts, he'd found the perfect partners in crime. They were equally as entertaining as he, but with a dash more deviousness – and it made for a killer combination.

But now – what was he supposed to do now?

Fred was dead. Fred was dead. Fred – was – dead.

His shame at thinking the words at this point had more to do with the fact that he couldn't think them with a straight face. It's not my fault it rhymes.

"Lee, you got the time?"

And with that the laughter spilled out, and he took a break from unpacking, to quite literally roll on the floor and laugh his ass off. George was giggling, but Lee guessed that it was more at him than with him.

"What the hell is the matter with you, mate?" George asked, laughter building at the sight of him having a fit on the floor.

"It just...time..." he barely choked out, "...rhyming..." and thin gulps of air between the hearty laughs.

"Have you gone mental?"

His hysteria subsided, and he took a smiling sigh, "Nah, not mental – just...rhyming is hilarious."

Yeah, that'll convince him.

"Uh huh...well, get up off your arse and finish unpacking – my mum's coming over later."

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

Deep sigh.

He hadn't laughed that hard in a year.

Fred would be proud to be the cause.

"I think a pinch more Corpus Dust will make it smell less..." George searched for the proper description.

"Like shite?" Lee finished for him.

"Aye, like shite- oi, be careful!"

"I am being careful! Stop standing so close, you're makin' me nervous."

"This could make us rich you know."

"No kidding – an anti-aging cream that won't turn you into a baby? It's never been done before."

"Well, there was Marigold's Miracle Mousse a couple years ago-"

"-which landed her in Azkaban for three months for not disclosing that the stuff would just keep growing skin cells 'till you were covered in lumps. We really shouldn't be emulating her."

"Not emulating, just...well, she made a hefty load of galleons before that."

"Before she was arrested."

"Why are you concentrating so much on that part of the story?"

"It's kind of an important part, don't you think?"

"Well, maybe-"

"We're getting sidetracked; it doesn't smell quite as bad anymore, does it?"

"No, I think it worked. Should we try it out then?"

"You first, or me?"

"I went last time."

"Right then – here we go."

"Maybe just a drop to be sure – so you don't turn into a baby."

"Well, the smell may be gone, but it definitely taste like shite."

"Do feel any different?"

"Not yet, do I look different?"

"Not at all. Did we add enough Orin?"

"I figured two pellets would be more than enough."

"Let's add one more, just to be sure."

"Do we have to wait more?"

"No, they dissolve right away – so here goes attempt two. Aren't you supposed to be writing this down?"

"Oh, right."

"I feel a bit funny...George?"

"-Yeah, sorry couldn't find a qui—OH!"


"...You... you're face...mate, it definitely works. Maybe not quite the way we were expecting."

"What do you mean – what do I look like? Is my head small? Did I grow an extra nose? WHAT? And why are there no mirrors back here?"

"Mate – calm down! You have no extra appendages, don't worry – you've just...well, aged backwards a bit."

"The cream is supposed to be anti-aging, no de-aging!"

"I'm thinking we maybe shouldn't have added that extra pellet."

"No kidding!"

"Why're you just standing there?"

"I'm sorry – it's just...you look so young."

"Are you laughing at me?"


"You're still laughing!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. I'm going to St. Mungo's – the least you could do is come with me."

"Stop laughing!"

Looking like a teenager sucked.

When he actually was a teenager it hadn't bothered him, but now it was the most annoying thing he'd ever experienced.

Two days after 'The Incident' had been a right crap day. He'd slept through his alarm making him late for his meeting at Gringotts, ran halfway to said meeting in the rain before remembering he'd left his key on the kitchen counter, retrieved the key and his brain woke up and remembered that You're a wizard for Merlin's sake, just apparate! Was late to the meeting by 13 minutes and 53 seconds (so said the grumpy goblin that chastised him for at least that long), sat in owl droppings, spilled hot coffee all over a cute waitress' shoes – a muggle waitress who demanded muggle money to replace her shoes, money he didn't have. So he spent the afternoon scrubbing greasy dishes at 'Ed's Easy Diner' to pay her back.

By the time he got out, all he wanted was a drink and to faceplant on his bed.

Unfortunately, he looked like a teenager. So the goblin called him an "vexing human child", the cute waitress asked "Can't you just call your mum to bring down some money?", and the new bartender Hannah had hired the week before refused to oblige his request for a glass of Ogden's Firewhiskey.

"I'm twenty-seven!"

"Do you have proof?" the plump older woman replied haughtily.

"Well- no, but neither does anyone else!"

"Yes, but they don't look like a schoolchild."

"If I was a child – which I'm not – wouldn't I be at school now?"

"Not necessarily."

"Ugh...Please, I beg you, just one glass."

"No problem, dear."


"Of course."

And she set a foaming glass of butterbeer in front of him.

"That'll be five sickles, two knuts."

It really sucked looking like a teenager.

Dear Mr. Jordan,

The test results from your appointment January 17th, 2004 are ready to be reviewed by your Healer. Healer Lockwood will explain your results, along with answer any questions you may have.

Your appointment is for March 21st, 2004 at 4 o'clock in room 312

Ophelia Marks
Ophelia Marks, Chief Healer, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked immediately as Healer Lockwood entered.

"Nice to meet you...Mr. Jordan," the other man said, glancing at the Patient Information Parchment he was holding.

"Lee's fine - Healer Lockwood, yeah?" he said, shaking the other man's hand.

"Please, call me Silas," he said, gesturing for Lee to follow his lead and sit. "Now, I see here you had a bit of an accident with an anti-aging potion?"

"It was supposed to be anti-aging...turned out to be de-aging."

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have very good news for you."

That's not good.

"That's not good," he said, fidgeting in his seat.

"No, but it's not bad either. Fortunately, the strain of Orin that you used is a relatively mild one, so we'll be able to stop the de-aging process with a bi-weekly potion. Unfortunately, the dosage you ingested makes it presently impossible to turn you back to your actual age."

Merlin's balls.

"I'm stuck like this? Forever?"

"Well you're not immortal, if that's what you're asking. You will still die but unless new discoveries are made about the origins of that particular species of plant, you'll die looking as you do now." The words were said gently enough, but Lee wasn't feeling anywhere near comforted.

There was really only one thing to say in reply.

"This blows!"

"So you have to drink this stuff every two weeks, for the rest of your life?" Fred asked.

"Yup – that is unless I'd like to look even younger."

"My guess is 'no' to that."

"Right in one, mate," he said before downing the bluish liquid.

"How's it taste?"

"Not bad, actually – bit like...bangers covered in...maple syrup or something."

"...That sounds disgusting."

Lee shrugged and washed down the potion with some water.

"Has it got any side effects?"

"Yeah, I can't apparate for a couple hours after I have it."

"Seriously? Show me."

"How am I supposed to show you? That doesn't even make any sense..."

"Right. No, yeah. Well, I'm starving – want anything from The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Nah, I'm good."

And George disapparated away.

"Wanker," Lee muttered under his breath, and spent the next ten minutes finding as many typos as he could in an old copy of 'The Quibbler'.

With a pop, George was standing in the middle of the living room with a plate piled high with chips.

"Do you have any ketchup? The Leaky was all out," he asked.

"Yeah, I think there's some in the fridge."

George sat down in the chair next to Lee's. "Brill," he said, and looked expectantly at Lee.

"I'm not getting it for you!"

"Can't you just pop in there? Every time I apparate with chips, I lose some in the trip."

"Then put them down."

"What if someone tries to steal them?"

"I'm the only one here, and I'm not going to nick your chips."

"...Please just get the-"

"POP!" Lee finally yelled.

Again with the look like he was the crazy one.


"I think your forgetting that I can't apparate – which I told you fifteen minutes ago."

"OH! Right...what was with the 'POP!' though?"

"The sound of my low budget apparation."


"I've decided to go to America!"

"What? You're leaving the country? Why?"

"Why not, mate?" Lee replied excitedly.

His life had been fairly mundane as of late – working, hanging out with friends, going to Quidditch games, babysitting for George. Entertaining as it was, Lee missed true excitement in his life. As terrifying as those months during the war had been, hosting Potterwatch had been...well, exciting. He was rebelling against oppression and fighting for the greater good and all that crap.

And a few months ago, he'd felt that itch for adventure again. He wanted to do something...completely unexpected and out of the blue. Lee Jordan's life was stagnant, so he wasn't going to be Lee Jordan any more.

George's shock had passed, and an hour later they were sitting at Lee's kitchen table passing a bottle of Firewhiskey back and forth and well on there way to being drunk.

"So where'r you gonna go?" George asked, slurring his words a bit and taking another shudder inducing gulp.

Lee laughed – what was funny? Words; words were funny. "I have – NO idea. I figured you'd help me pisk...pick."

"You should go to California!"

"Why? Isn't it like always sunny there?"

"Because there's that Academy there, in San Francisco. It's not sunny there...what the bloody hell is that place called?"

"I don't think I could handle that much sun...did you say something?"


That caught Lee's attention.

"Asses? What asses? In California?"

"Ass...es," George repeated slowly, confusion clear upon his face. The confusion was shared.

"Words are coming out of your mouth, but I don't see a meaning."


"George – what ar-"

"Assisi! It's Assisi!" George exclaimed triumphantly, throwing his arms up in the air causing some Firewhiskey to slosh out of the bottle onto his hand. He didn't notice.

"Assisi what? I still don't know what you're talking about..." Lee replied, reaching up to grab the bottle from his hands.

"Assisi Academy – in San Francisco. It's not sunny there."


"Nah, I think I want to go to Muggle America!" he announced loudly.

"Is that it's official name?" George asked with an enthusiasm only a drunk person could attain.

"It should be, shouldn't it? Then it'd be MUSA...and WUSA for wizards and witches. MOOO-SAW. It sounds like we're chopping up cows, dunnit."

"They eat cows in America," George stated matter-of-factly.

"Cow...ccccoooowwwwww," he chuckled, and George started laughing along with him.

Soon they were both mooing.

"MOOO- you know what cows remind me of?" George cut himself off.

"The moon? Mooo-t points? Cows?" Lee guessed quickly.


"How do cows remind you of Colo—OH! They both start with 'C'!"

"Isn't that crazy?" George said in an astonished voice.

"Totally, mate! It's a sign."

"That you should go to Colorado? Definitely!"



"We accomli—accomplishhhed somethin'!" And with that they high-fived. Or at least attempted to, as their hands didn't actually end up touching – but it's the thought that counts.

"You know, if you're gonna be in Mooosaw, you should have a new name! Like, a totally new identity!" George suggested.

"Like what? Barry?"

"No! Something cool and unique – Americans name there kids all sorts of loony things, you could be anything you want!"

"Table!" Lee said after glancing down at the table.

"Nah, too common," George shook his head, a serious crease between his eyebrows. "How bout Vladamir!"

"Teacup!" And he continued his trend of saying whatever he saw.





"GRR! - Just that, just 'Hi, my name's GRR!'"


"Oh – I like that one! I think it should be longer though – like 'Chick Magnet' or somethin'" George said, downing the last few drops left in the bottle.

"Or like, descriptive. Magnetic Eyes!"

"Magnenetic Awesomeness!"


"Mangneticattidude...Macnetic Attude...Magnitude. Magnitude!"

They gasped in unison.

"It's PERFES—PERFECT!" Lee – excuse me, Magnitude – exclaimed as he jumped up in victory. "I AM MAGNITUDE OF COW-COLORADO! HEAR ME ROAR!"

It really was good he didn't have any neighbors.

"So have you figured out where you're going?" George asked.

They we're sitting in a comfy booth at The Leaky Cauldron, tall glasses of spiced mead in front of them (Hannah had informed the bartender that he was in fact not sixteen).

"Yeah, actually – I went down to the Muggle Public Library yesterday and did a bit of research on the internet."

"I don't know how you don't punch a hole in the computer while using it – Hermione got me and Angelina one for Christmas a couple years back, and I threw the thing out the window after two days. Drove me nuts," George laughed lightly.

"Eh, you get used to it. It's actually pretty cool – I just typed 'Colorado' in, and got a ton of information. I decided that it would be easiest to go back to school given how I look, but I don't actually want to do any work-"

"-Yeah, good luck finding a place like that!"

"I did!" Lee responded happily before pulling out the stack of pages he'd printed and setting them in front of George.

"Greendale Community College," George read, flipping through the pages before seeing something that made him laugh loudly, "Is this for real? 'Admissions: You're Already Accepted!' - and this, 'The Straight A's of Greendale: Accessibility, Affordability, Air Conditioning, Awesome New Friends, A Lot of Classes'! How on earth did you find this?"

"The magic of the internet, mate!" He said, reaching over to flip through the large pile of paper to find what he was looking for. "You got to see this stuff too – these are articles from the school newspaper."

George started skimming, and reading snippets out loud, "'Puppy Parade: You won't want to miss it!', '...a blanket fort in the dorms...', 'Everyone was dancing to ABBA music when suddenly everyone got really sick and started attacking each other like zombies', 'Campus is in an uproar...MORE CHICKEN FINGERS...'"

"Completely nuts, innit?"

"Nuts...genius...one or the other," George laughed in response, "When do you leave?"

"Two weeks. I have to take two portkeys – London to Westchester, New York, then to Denver – and take a taxi to get to Greendale. I've already got a dorm and everything!"

"This is...crazy," George said with considerably less enthusiasm than before. "I'm happy for you, really – I just...I'm gonna miss you, mate."

"I'm not leaving forever – and I'll write. But, I'll miss you too."

"Right then – To Magnitude, Greendale Community College Student!" George said, raising his glass.

Lee did the same.


He was actually here – well, almost. Sitting in the back of a taxi car on his way to Greendale Community College.

The last two weeks had been hectic, and filled with excited anticipation. And maybe some nervousness. He'd spent most of the time with his family and the Weasleys, just soaking up the last bit of home before he left. The small bit of time that he wasn't surrounded by people, he used to perfect his new identity.

He'd decided that he was going to be from Boulder, Colorado – born to Eric and Anna, two All-American colle—high school sweethearts. That was another thing he'd been working on. His American accent was fine tuned after weeks of watching movie after movie, but he still had to remind himself of the vocabulary differences.

Fries, not chips; fight, not row; apartment, not flat; trash can, not bin; bathing suit, not swimming costume; line, not queue – seemingly simple things, but he was conditioned to ask where the loo was, not the bathroom.

The taxi slowed to a stop.

"Fifty-two ninety-six," the driver said, and he handed the man sixty dollars.

"Keep the change!" He said, and was proud that the man hadn't blinked once at his false accent.

He got out of the cab and lugged his two large suitcases from the car's boot. Trunk! Trunk. He suddenly felt a giant wave of sympathy for Muggles – without using magic, moving stuff was hard. He dragged the bags onto the grass in front of the school before pulling a map of the campus out of his pocket.

"Alright...that building is...a building," he mumbled to himself, squinting in confusion. He couldn't see any signs anywhere.

"Do you need any help?" a cheery voice asked from behind him. He turned to see a pretty brunette that reminded him strongly of the many Disney movies he'd watched during his Learn to be a Muggle campaign.

"Yeah! I'm looking for the...Domestic Dorms?" He asked, smiling brightly. It was starting – he was really here.

"Oh! My friend lives there – what room are you in?" she asked, gesturing for him to walk with her towards the school buildings. "Do need help carrying those?"

"No, I got it. I'm in room 423."

"Great!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening – she really reminded him of those Disney characters. "Abed – that's my friend – lives in 815. I know they don't sound like they're close, but they're actually just down the hall from one another; apparently they ran out of four's halfway through."

He laughed, "This school's a bit...unique, isn't it?"

"You have no idea. Last year, there was a campus wide paintball war!" she said and he reacted appropriately, though he had no idea what paintball was. Look that one up. "Well, here we are! I've got to go to my study group – I like to be early."

"Yeah, of course – thanks for helping! I'll see you around?"

"Yes, definitely!" she said, heading towards the door. She spun back quickly, "Oh my God, I totally forgot! I'm Annie," and held her hand out.

Here goes nothing.

"Magnitude," he said, shaking her hand.

She laughed prettily, "Magnitude. That's very...unique?"

"Well then I'll fit right in here, yeah?" he said, smiling largely.

"Definitely. I'll see you around, Magnitude!" she said, exiting through the still open door into the hall.

Well, that went well – minus the thing about paintball. What the bloody hell is paintball?

He looked around the room and placed his luggage at the foot of the bed. It was a single dorm, which was a definite plus – with a double bed, a desk, a small couch, a nightstand, a dresser, and a miniature refrigerator. He unzipped one of the suitcases to pull out his brand new laptop, and set it on the desk before flipping it open.

He was surprised to see his Word program already open, with a message typed out.


Hey there mate! I've braved this idiotic contraption to make sure you get this once you get to Colorado. Hope your portkey trips went well, as well as the car ride. A few things:

I know you said you're living completely like a Muggle and decided to only bring your wand for emergencies, but in addition to typing this I've also slipped some Bertie Botts, Chocolate Frogs, and a bottle of Ogden's into your bag. Your welcome.

My dad's asked me to let you know that he's gotten himself an e-mail account () and would like you to e-mail him about everything and anything Muggle related.

Also, in honor of your not apparating, I now say 'POP' before doing so. Good luck in Mooosaw, and don't forget: cigarettes aren't fags there. See you in the summer!

Your brother in mischief,

"POP, indeed," he laughed loudly.

"Is that your catchphrase?" A voice said from the doorway, causing him to slam the laptop shut. "I've always wanted to have a character with a catchphrase. Like Fonzie...'Eyyy!'"

"Yeah, exactly like Fonzie," Who? "My catchphrase...POP..." That's not a catchphrase, "...POP POP!" he finished, moving his arms up with the words.

"Nice!" he said, waving, "I'm Abed."

"Oh! You're Annie's friend!"

"You know Annie?"

"She showed me where my dorm was."

"That fits," he said, backing out into the hallway. "It was nice to meet you..."

"Magnitude!" Saying that was way too much fun.

Abed seemed to appreciate the name, and nodded his head, "Magnitude – you'll make a good addition. Pop pop!" and he was gone.

Pop Pop indeed.