Welcome to the Jungle

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: : William McKinley High, with its ups and downs and all-arounds. At 15, Harry Potter wants a girl that WMHS' social hierarchy dictates he can't have, and high school isn't all it's cracked up to be. Non-Magic HP AU, and pre-series Glee.

Rating: M for language, violence, adult themes, and social issues.

Author: tlyxor1.

Part One: 15

Chapter One: Ordinary Day

The first time he has a proper conversation with Quinn Fabray, it's in their American Literature class, and it's a good-natured debate concerning the themes within 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. The rest of their class watches avidly, their teacher mediates, and by the end of the lesson, he wonders how a girl who passionately discusses social inequality can turn around and carelessly, thoughtlessly shower their classmates in slushie.

As he proceeds through his morning, however, it's not something he dwells on. Because he's a recent transfer to the Lima school district, Harry doesn't know the girl beyond the fact that she's a cheerleader. Between school, work, and his commitment to the debating and football teams, she is, consequently, not a concern. Admittedly, she's pretty in that aloof, unattainable kind of way, but Quinn is not the only attractive girl at William McKinley High. Moreover, Harry could do without the probable scrutiny of the cheerleading coach, Sue Sylvester, who seems to have taken Quinn under her wing.

Subsequently determined to avoid the Cheerios, his resolution dies a quick, painless death in the face of third period Biology. It's another class he shares with the blonde, and before Mike Chang can join him at their usual lab desk, the cheerleader in question takes his place.

Harry blinks, bemused, offers Mike an apologetic grimace, and occupies himself with his homework. He doesn't want to talk to the girl, doesn't want to get involved in high school politics, doesn't want anything to do with any more bullies.

He has a hard enough time attempting, and mostly failing, to wrangle Puck and Finn.

Behind him, one of the guys in question, Noah Puckerman - or Puck, rather - laughs, and Harry resists the urge to ask him why the hell he's in Science II when he's made it abundantly clear that he doesn't give a shit about school. He knows, realistically, that Puck's not an idiot, but there's a huge difference between coasting through standard classes, and actually having to work hard in Geometry, Biology, and World Geography.

"Hi," Fabray greets. She's blonde and green eyed, and she is the perfect cheerleader cliche.

"Hi," Harry echoes, "Quinn, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she confirms, "And you're Harry, right? The quarterback?"

Harry nods, smiling wryly. "That's me."

It's funny how his position on the football team suddenly defines him. It doesn't matter that he's also a member of the debating team, or that he's in three advanced classes. To almost everyone, he is simply 'The Quarterback', and everything else is beneath their notice.

"You don't like it?" Quinn asks.

"I like it just fine," Harry answers, "I just get asked that a lot. It's exhausting."

He is sometimes approached in the grocery store by locals, curious about the new William McKinley quarterback, interested to know his thoughts on the team and the season, to gauge whether or not he's competent and the like. It's nerve-racking, and he could do without the extra pressure. He's already under enough as is.

The fact is, Harry's a better wide receiver than he is a quarterback, but he has a consistent, reliable, and accurate throwing arm, which is apparently more than Coach Tanaka can say about any of the other QB hopefuls.

That said, even three games into the season, he's still terrified that he won't live up to everyone's lofty expectations..

In all, it's a far cry from what he's accustomed to. He's lived the last ten years of his life in Chicago, where he was another face in an overcrowded, underfunded inner-city middle school. He'd been on the football team, yes, but it wasn't a huge deal, and Harry's still adjusting to the change.

Beside him, Quinn appears unsurprised. Her expression hasn't changed much, but a sardonic smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and her ponytail swishes with the tilt of her head. "Football's a big deal around here."

"I've noticed," Harry answers, tone bland.

Their stilted small talk falls to the wayside when their teacher arrives. She returns their in-class quiz results, goes through the homework with them, and proceeds with that day's lecture. She's a fast-paced educator, with steel grey hair and an apparent zeal for her subject a number of his other teachers lack. She's also got a deadpan sense of humour that makes him laugh, and the long-suffering tolerance of teenagers most high school educators acquire at some point between their 5th and 10th year of teaching.

That said, he still doesn't love Biology, but Harry's not sure that will ever change.

To further reinforce this thought, Harry has, over the last two weeks, sat through an extensive education on the human reproductive system, complete with video, diagrams, and PUck's obligatory commentary.

Suffice to say, he's glad to move on from the topic. He's also glad to see that he's received 92 per cent on the corresponding quiz, but he doesn't get much of an opportunity to relish in the fact before he's occupied by note-taking.

.

Eventually, the class draws to a close, and Harry packs away his things to leave the room. Puck falls into step beside him, and Mike meets them at the door.

Ahead of him, Quinn meets up with one of her fellow cheerleaders, Santana Lopez, and they both glance back at the three football players before they disappear among the crowds. They take their contemplative expressions with them, and Harry is not grieved to see them go.

"What was all that?" Mike asks, perplexed. Harry shrugs, just as clueless.

Beside them, Puck scoffs, and answers sagely, "Chicks, man. Who the hell knows what they're ever on about."

"Touché," Mike concedes.

"You make them sound like an alien species," Harry observes.

"They might as well be," Puck answers.

He and Mike laugh, but there's a hall monitor eyeballing them for loitering, so they disperse to their respective lockers. He and Puck's are fairly close together, separated by a self-proclaimed thespian by the name of Alison Prescott, but the girl is never there when they are, and Harry has started to wonder whether or not he should be concerned by the fact that her locker is starting to smell like something died inside of it.

"What've you got next?" Puck asks.

"Modern History," Harry answers, unenthused. It's perhaps his least favourite subject, up there with the Critical Thinking and Health electives his parents have made him take, "Japanese after. You?"

"I've got English and Study Hall."

Due to the domineering influence of his extraordinarily traditional grandparents, and also due to the fact he was raised in Marseille until he was 12, Puck is fluent in Hebrew, French, and German, written and spoken alike. He has subsequently tested out of his Foreign Language requirements for the duration of high school, and although he has a hard time in English, he gets to enjoy the hospitality of Study Hall while the rest of their grade - with the exception of Santana Lopez, Rachel Berry, and a few others - endure Spanish, French, or Japanese.

"Lucky bastard," Harry grouses, "I asked my parents if I could test out of French, and they laughed at me."

Predictably, Puck laughs, and Harry tries not to sulk. After all, it's not that his parents think he is incapable of passing. He's multi-lingual the same way Puck is, though he speaks Welsh and Italian in lieu of Hebrew and German, and French is probably the only other language his written comprehension is at all on par with it's spoken counterpart.

. The thing is, his parents are the hard-working types, and they're also very firm believers in the expansion of their children's horizons. Therefore, they would never let him pass up the opportunity to learn a new language, and consequently, Harry's stuck in a class he would rather do without.

With an inaudible sigh, he switches out his binders and textbooks, demolishes one of his granola bars, and fills his water bottle in the 10 minutes he has before his next class. As he does so, he chats idly with Puck about school, about the homecoming game in two weeks, about his weekend plans, and before long, the warning bell is a shrill echo in his ears, and Harry has to run for class.

In the emptying hallway, all he can hear is Noah Puckerman's echoing laugh.

During sixth period, while his teammates attend classes like auto-shop and wood-shop and what the fuck ever else, Harry attends Art with a teacher by the name of Celeste Rider. He receives a great deal of flack for it from the other footballers, but it's more or less his favourite subject, and he's not going to transfer because the guys think it's gay, or lame, or because it doesn't fit the jock stereotype that seems to govern the rest of them.

Perhaps predictably, Harry is the only jock in the class. There's a Cheerio in the class too, a blonde space case by the name of Brittany Pierce, who has a tendency to ramble nonsensically during their practical lessons, but who is also extraordinarily gifted with charcoals. They're given a wide berth by most of the other art students, but between their eccentric teacher's theory lessons and the thrice-weekly opportunity to draw to his heart's content, Harry doesn't mind much.

That said, he is intrigued by the only girl who doesn't avoid either of them like the plague. She's the silent artist type, ironically, with hair so fair as to be mistaken as white, and he's never heard her say a word. Harry's not sure if it's because she's a functional mute, or because she's cripplingly shy, or if it's because she simply doesn't give a shit about anyone else in the class to put in the effort, but he often finds himself watching her, and when she notices, when she catches his gaze with eyes a bright, striking shade of blue, it's embarrassing, and Harry looks away with a red face.

"SHe's pretty," Brittany says.

"Yeah," Harry agrees, and he's sure the tips of his ears are on fire, "She is."

Blessedly, Brittany doesn't say anything else regarding Daphne Greengrass, and instead babbles inanely about penguins and lobsters and whales, and her crazy cat, Lord Tubbington. All the while, she draws a unicorn in her sketchbook, remarkably detailed and somehow tragic in shades of black and grey.

Beside her, Harry draws a stag and a doe in an idyllic, tree-lined meadow. He hasn't shaded yet, has only sketched an outline of a completed piece, but as he leaves the class, he's content, and eager for his last class of the day,Health, to be over.

It drags, naturally, because part of the semester's curriculum is focused around sexual safety, and Puck, the nymphomaniac in training, has a lot of questions he won't ask his mom. Questions like whether or not 'pulling out' is a reliable form of birth control, and if STD's can be contracted through oral sex, and how many orgasms is too many for one day. It's mortifying and vaguely horrifying, and Harry's sure their teacher is traumatised for life, but at the end of the day, they're all a little - or a lot - more informed, and that's not something anyone should really complain about.

"I think I'll sell copies," Mike ponders. He'd taken extensive notes in class, complete with rudimentary diagrams, Puck's questions, and the teacher's answers. It all adds up to four pages, and Harry can't fathom how they covered so much material in 45 minutes. "I mean, people need to know this stuff, right? If not because it's important, then just because we'll be graded on it, y'know?"

"Might as well sell homework answers while you're at it," Puck blithely replies.

To Harry and Matt's consternation, Mike seems to genuinely consider it.

"That's a slippery slope, dude," Matt warns, "Next you'll be writing up peoples' essay papers, and before you know it, you're a master class forger with the FBI up your ass. Should probably stick to your day job."

"Besides," Harry contributes, "If they weren't paying attention, then it's they're own fault if something happens."

"I don't know," Mike hesitates, "I mean, not everyone's taking Health, right? It's an optional elective."

"That's true," Matt concedes, "I just don't think it'd work, dude. Most people aren't interested in the details. They just want to get laid."

Before Puck can weigh in with something undoubtedly vulgar, they reach the locker rooms, where most of the football team have already gathered. It's a loud, chaotic mess, and Finn Hudson is blasting Kanye West from a set of portable speakers, but Harry reaches his locker without issue, and proceeds to change into his training gear. With the knowledge that Coach Tanaka is sure to run them hard that afternoon - as he always does - it's sure to be a long couple of hours.

He sighs, tucks his helmet under his arm - it's a full gear session - and follows his friends onto the football field. Behind him, Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams exaggeratedly mock another of their classmates, and nothing will ever change.

As Coach Tanaka barks at them to start their warm-up laps, Harry wonders why he continues to hope otherwise.