maybe it's just that i'm out of luck

His father had business in various different parts of Europe and had asked his mother to accompany him, but he didn't want Barty to come with them. 

(Of course not, Barty thought, why would he want to see his son after he'd been away for months? Not that Barty was complaining; he'd much rather stay with the van Randwijcks than spend two months bored to death in various hotel rooms.)

Barty got to the van Randwijcks' home by Portkey. He didn't arrive at the country house he'd always visited before, though. He ended up in a completely unfamiliar living room. For a second, he was scared that he'd gotten off too early, but then his cousin Alexander walked in.

"Hello," Alexander greeted him, with the thick l Barty had come to associate with the Dutch. "I see you have arrived safely." He smiled at Barty as he walked over to pick up his bag. "Come, I will take you up to your room."

"Alexander, where are we?" Barty asked as he followed his cousin up the stairs. They were in a somewhat narrow house, but it wasn't small; what it lacked in width, it made up for in length. There was a lot of light coming in through the large windows and Barty could see canals outside.

"Oh, that is right. You have never been to our house in Amsterdam, have you?" They went up a second flight of stairs and Alexander went into the room on the left. 

"No..." Barty said slowly. "I didn't even know you had another house."

"Didn't you? Oh. Well, we do." Alexander put Barty's bag down at the food of the bed and turned around to smile at him. "This is going to be your room for the next two months. I am right across the hallway." 

Barty nodded; he'd seen the nameplate on the door. He took a look around. The room wasn't as big as his room back home, but it was a lot lighter and he had a nice view out over the canals. He could see a couple of Muggles passing by outside on something Barty had never seen before.

"Alexander, what are those?" Barty asked, frowning as he followed the Muggles with his eyes.

"You are not going to tell me that you are sixteen years old and you have never seen a bicycle before," Alexander replied incredulously.

"A what?" Barty was watching another pair of Muggles passing by on those bicycles and he wondered how they managed to stay upright when they didn't have wheels or any other kind of support on the sides.

"We call them fietsen. They are very popular here and not just among Muggles. They are very useful to get around in a busy town like this one," Alexander explained. "I cannot believe you have never seen one before." He shook his head.

"I don't think they're common in Britain," Barty said, watching another cyclist pass by. "Or at least not this common. Does everyone here own a bicycle?"

"Basically." Alexander chuckles. "Come on, we have a few hours until dinner. I am going to teach you how to ride one."

"The prospect sounded awful to Barty and he was immediately reminded of that time in his fourth year when he fell off a broom at the Quidditch try-outs and broke his arm.

He turned back to face Alexander and heaved a sigh. "All right, then."

Alexander smiled at him again. His cousin seemed to be full of smiles and, as Barty found out later, it was rather contagious.

When Barty fell off his bike, Alexander laughed and Barty couldn't hold back a grin either.

Apparently Dutch children learned how to ride a bicycle when they were around four or five years old and here Barty was, almost an adult and he was falling off.

Barty fell off twice more before he made it down the street on his own.

He spent the rest of the summer biking around Amsterdam with Alexander, admiring the city's narrow streets and canals, visiting museums, churches and coffee shops in equal measure, trying (and failing) to get into Het Paleis op de Dam.

(His cousin told him that he could get them in, that he knew the queen. It turned out that Alexander told more lies like that when he was high, but Barty found it more amusing than anything.)

They also took day trips a few times. They went to big towns like The Hague and Rotterdam -- a town Barty thought was rather ugly, with all its modern architecture. They visited a few smaller towns such as Volendam (which was known for its fish) and Edam (which was known for its cheese) and they went up to biggest of the small islands up north, where they spent a day at the beach.

One day, they went to a little place with a name that Barty would never be able to pronounce. There were windmills everywhere. Barty particularly liked the architecture in this area; the houses were all made of wood, painted a dark green, and the windmills were nothing like the few he'd seen back home.

Alexander was good company, with his easy smiles and out-going personality. It was also nice not to have to look down on someone when Barty was speaking to them for the first time in his life.

(In fact, Alexander was a little taller than Barty. When Barty asked him if he didn't think it was annoying to have to look down on everyone, Alexander just said "mate, I'm Dutch", as if that explained everything.

Barty found out that it did a few days later; apparently the Dutch were one of the tallest people in the world. They weren't all as tall as Barty and Alexander, but they were significantly taller than the average British person.)

A few weeks ago, Barty would never have imagined that he would be sad to leave, but he was. He'd had a lot of fun with Alexander and he was going to miss him.

"Don't miss me too much, yeah?" Alexander said as he stepped up to hug Barty. His English had improved a lot, due to the fact hat Barty hadn't known a single word in Dutch before he'd come over, but he still spoke with a rather thick Dutch accent.

"Klootzak," Barty whispered back, "asshole". He heard Alexander chuckle.

"I put a little goodbye present in your bag," Alexander said softly, to make sure that his parents wouldn't overhear. He pulled back and smiled at Barty. "Take care of yourself, all right?"

"You too," Barty said, smiling back at him. He knew what Alexander meant and he had to suppress a chuckle. He couldn't believe his cousin had done that right under his parents' noses.

"Dankuwel voor alles," Barty said, turning to face his aunt and uncle. "Thank you for everything." They hadn't been around much -- they'd been at their country house and Alexander and he had had the place to themselves -- but he did have some manners, no matter what his father said.

Then it was time to leave; he felt the familiar tug of the Portkey he was holding -- a Muggle lighter, how fitting -- and he was back in his own living room.