As Professor Snape ushered him through the front door, Harry’s head spun with the mass of new and frankly startling information. The good-bye promise-threat by Aunt Petunia however weighed heavily.


Excited as he felt by the thought of this ‘Hogwarts’ school and the shopping trip, his nerves tingled frighteningly. What was going to happen when he eventually returned to number four? There was no doubt that Aunt Petunia would tell Uncle Vernon as soon as he returned from work and Harry had to battle fiercely with a wave of all consuming panic - just imaging the upcoming explosive, reaction caused the welts on Harry’s back to throb.


A fat drop of rain landed on Harry’s nose and he hoped they wouldn’t have far to walk, his clothes were not made for the cold and the weak sun had failed to break through the thick cloud cover that smothered Little Winging.


He was just wondering how they were going to travel, Harry could see no sign of a car, when the Professor stretched out a pale arm towards him.


Harry desperately fought the urge to panic as the Professor grabbed his shoulder with a worn and callused hand. The touch burned as the man seemed to lay his palm exactly over the dark bruise Uncle Vernon had made whilst dragging Harry up the stairs last week.


He was not able to dwell on the sudden outburst of agony for long, as suddenly overwhelming pressure crushed him from all sides. Harry felt as though he was being squeezed into a very tiny, thin tube and was oddly reminded his cupboard.


The feeling became stronger and Harry thought he would surely be crushed, he could almost feel his eye balls being forced deeper into his skull, Professor Snape’s grip tightened painfully and with a twist Privet Drive disappeared from sight.


…………………………………………………………………………………………..


Harry landed with a thud on a cold stone pavement and with a swimming head fell straight onto his knees. The limited food he had consumed at dawn crept slowly back up his throat and he fought the urge to simply throw it up. What a fine mess that would be, he was certain Professor Snape was not a man who appreciated vomit all over his person.


If that was magic, then Harry felt himself quite justified in thinking it both freaky and wrong. The ground in front of him wobbled and swayed causing Harry to clench his eyes shut and grit his teeth firmly. The professor didn’t say anything and Harry wondered whether he had been left behind; it would not have been the first time.


But no - Harry opened his eyes cautiously and was greeted with the sight of smart, shiny black boots and the bottom of a cloak thick woollen cloak. He didn’t want to look up and stare into those disdainful eyes and instead chose to struggle to his feet quickly and efficiently. The less of a nuisance he was, the less likely it was that the Professor would get mad. Professor Snape, Harry felt sure, was a man who would get ‘mad’ very well indeed.


“Congratulations Potter, you have just completed your first journey by apparition.” The comment was mildly sarcastic but Harry didn’t really feel the need to be insulted by it. After all, the Professor was a fully trained wizard and he a mere boy, moreover while the tone of voice hadn’t been pleasant it lacked the truly foreboding bite Uncle Vernon’s contained.


Taking a moment in which to steady himself Harry began to look around subtly from behind his fringe. The area in which they had ‘apperated’ was not the kind of place the Dursleys would have been seen dead in. Over flowing rubbish bins sat at regular intervals along the street and every other window seemed to be either broken to boarded up. Shattered glass was scattered liberally along the kerb and Harry felt quite lucky he hadn’t accidently knelt in it before.


Only one building stood out significantly, a small shabby looking pub with a creaking sign depicting a cauldron that squatted snugly between Baxter’s wholesaler and Number 46 ‘knock please – bell broken’. Obviously satisfied that he was ready to move, Professor Snape headed towards the pub, clearly expecting Harry to follow closely.


……………………………………………………………………………………..........


Stepping through the door Harry was hit by a powerful odour, a curious mix of old musty damp and freshly baked goods that made his mouth water and stomach turn at the same time. Men and Women in clothes similar to the Professors sat at tables chatting and eating, meanwhile utterly ignoring the tables wiping themselves with cloths and the mugs stirring themselves gently. Harry couldn’t help but gape at such unusual and obviously magical sights and didn’t notice his mouth had fallen open until the Professor had snapped that he would, “let flies in.”


As the Professor Snape they him through the tight crowd of cloaked people Harry fought the urge to grasp the back of the Professor cloak. Harry really didn’t want anyone to knock into him accidently and felt ridiculously reassured by the Professor. However he assumed that such behaviour would be seen as childish and not appreciated. Settling instead for walking right in on the man’s heels; Harry kept his eyes lowered and fixed on the ground. To either side he caught tantalising snatches of conversation, ‘Pixies he said, like I didn’t know they were Pixies, what kind of witch does he take me for! Next thing, he won’t think I’ll know the correct spell’ and ‘No I’m sure I found it in Magwhumps emporium, only 4 sickles as well, a bargain’ other odd words added to the jumble , quidditch, aurors, goblins, howlers and Harry soon began to feel overwhelmed.


When the Professor suddenly stopped abruptly, Harry slammed straight into his back and expected the Professor to turn on him angrily for being so clumsy, when nothing happened Harry leaned warily round the Professor to see what had happened.


“Quirrel,” sneered Professor Snape, nodding slightly in acknowledgment to a man in purple robes and matching turban who stood awkwardly in front of them. The man ‘Quirrel’ seemed to be constantly twitching and replied with a stuttering “Sss ss se sev Severus” before flickering his gaze to land directly on Harry. Quirrel’s eyes widened, almost comically, as he zeroed in on Harry’s forehead and Harry recoiled slightly as a stinging sensation darted through his scar. He noticed that the Professor was watching the interaction keenly with narrowed eyes.


“Harry Potter”, Quirrel whispered so softly that Harry barely caught the words. Although he was used to people staring at him for one reason or another, Harry was becoming slightly uncomfortable with the intense gaze the fidgeting man was levelling upon him and ducked back behind the Professor. Snape gave him a slightly odd look but nevertheless closed the conversation.


“Yes this is Harry Potter and yes I am purchasing his school equipment; now I’m sure you’ll understand the great rush that I am in. If you will excuse us Quirinus.”


As the Professor lead him away, Harry felt the man ‘Quirrel’s’ stare burning a hole in the back of his head and his scar stung anew savagely. From experience, however Harry knew moaning got him no where and instead shook his head fiercely to clear it.


Finally they reached a small wooden door which when the Professor had opened it revealed a small box courtyard with red brick walls and seemingly no exits. Although a little confused, Harry decided the strange yard was secondary to the man they had just met.


Stretching his arm out gingerly and tapping the Professor tentatively to catch his attention Harry thought;


SIR, WHO WAS THAT MAN?


Mentally kicking himself Harry quickly tagged on


IF YOU DON’T MIND ME ASKING…


The Dursleys had forbidden Harry from asking questions and as he didn’t yet know Professor Snape’s rules, Harry didn’t want to push his luck.


He thought he caught a sharp flash of surprise upon the Professors normally glaring countenance but it was so fleeting that he couldn’t be sure and therefore dismissed it.


Drawing what Harry assumed was his wand and tapping random bricks on the far wall Snape replied, “That man is Professor Quirrel and he will be your Defence against the Dark arts teacher at Hogwarts.” Harry didn’t know much about magic but the twitching stuttering Professor Quirrel didn’t really seem the type to be a defence against anything. The Professor must have guessed what he had been thinking as he narrowed his eyes and gave Harry a warning look, tapping one last brick perfunctorily and tucking his ‘wand’ back up his spacious sleeves.


“Surprising perhaps but they do say one should never judge a book by its cover,” he commented, the Professor had taken on an almost thoughtful tone and Harry wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to him at all anymore. He darted a quick look into the man’s face and noticed instead of the customary glare; an expression of deep concentration was set firmly upon his features. Harry returned his eyes to the floor quickly encase the Professor caught him looking. Eye contact was strictly prohibited, Harry had been ‘taught’ that well.


He couldn’t however stop his gaze from snapping up when the wall which Professor Snape had just been tapping was starting to shake and Harry stared in amazement as the bricks began to slide apart to create a doorway. Professor Quirrel and his stutter were quickly forgotten as Harry gazed at a thin single width lane jammed packed with crooked shops and stalls that the bricks had revealed. To call it bustling would have been an understatement and his heart thudded loudly in his chest with excitement.


Leading him into the busy throng the Professor announced with sarcastic tones “This Mr Potter is: Diagon Alley!”