For Henry Davis, life was never very easy. He had been living on the streets of London for almost a year, even though he was proudly American. His distinct Midwestern dialect and cadence of speech got him quite a few looks as he held out a rusted tin can on the sidewalk of the street he happened to be panhandling on that day.

Even though people thought an American begging on the street was strange, nobody ever troubled themselves to report him to the law. This was very good for Henry, because he was not a legal citizen of England. He had landed in the dockyards because of his constant habit of drifting from one place to the other, without very much consideration for where he was going.

He had just given up hope of raising enough funds to buy himself a meal, and had figured he might try and catch a train to a different part of the country. If his great grandfather had been able to jump in a boxcar and go from Indiana to California in 1935, he could hop a nice passenger train for a few hundred miles no problem.

Upon arrival at kings cross station a trace of a tear ran down his lean cheek. Remembering fondly the Saturday afternoons him and his grandparents had spent watching Thomas the tank engine on the old fuzzy television.

His clothes did not speak of a person with the funds to ride a train, but he tried to dust his denim jacket off the best he could, hoping nobody would notice. He walked along the many platforms looking for a space large enough for him to sneak onto with his duffle bag filled with all his worldly belongings.

While standing underneath the signs of platforms nine and ten, his dreams of riding to a quiet country village filled with generous people were crushed when he seen a police man walking along with the station master. His breath hitched and in his panic he stumbled backwards. The wall must have been farther way that he thought, for all he felt as he hit the ground was the concrete floor and a warm jet of steam flowing though the area.

As Henry got to his feet to regain his senses something appeared that almost made him faint. Standing there among a crowd of children and parents dressed in robes was a great red steam engine. Silently purring with the sound of the draught through her brass tipped funnel.

The logo on the side of it's tender read "Hogwarts Railways". He could hardly stop starring at all the people. they were dressed in a wide variety of what could only be called robes. Some even had pointed hats. At first he thought it was a convention of some sort, but then remembered he had fell though a solid brick wall. Or, at least he thought it was solid.

Then a small child bumped into him. The kid was about eleven years old, had on a pair of trousers that were vastly too big for him, with a belt that wrapped twice around his waist. His face was very thin and pale, as if he was malnourished. A pare of circular framed glasses were perched lopsided on his nose, and his hair stood up in a big mess at the back of his head.

"I'm very sorry sir" said the boy "I'm kinda new at this"

"No problem kid. I'm ah...new at this too. Are you getting on this train?"

"Yes sir. It is my first year. I only found out I was a wizard last week"

"A...what"

"A wizard. Aren't you one too"

Henry gave a slight cough. "Ah Hem! Yes well, I'd better be going nice to meet you. My name is Henry Davis."

"Nice to meet you too. I'm Harry Potter"

"That kid has got to be kidding" Henry muttered to himself.

"However", he mused to himself, "this train is going someplace unique that's for sure. And these old fashioned coaches are a lot easier to hop. Might try my luck see where I go.

So, as the whistle sounded and the carriage doors where slamming, Henry slid himself in between two coaches near the rear. The other people were so occupied with waving goodbye and blowing kisses that they never noticed the American bum holding on for dear life in between the two scarlet red railway cars.

Soon the landscape started flying by as they picked up speed. Henry realized that hopping the train was a very bad move. His hands were nearly frozen to the hand rails as they sped northward. He knew if he let go he would fall and be killed by the wheels. If he yelled for help he would go to jail, and if he hadn't got on the train he would be in a nice warm ally, covered up with newspapers and smoking a pipe filled with the tobacco from cigarette butts found during the day.

Teeth chattering he said to himself

"Stupid Stupid Ssssttttupiidddd"

After several hours of this unbearable freezing, the train started to slow down. To slow down. So the wind would not bite his poor fingers anymore. To a nice warm alley in a quiet country village, where he might find a job cleaning the local pub for a meal.

But this was not to be so. As the locomotive pulled into the station, a giant spotted him hiding and pulled him out of his cubby hole.

"AYE! WHAT DO YA THING YOU'RE DOIN' IN THERE?"

To say the man was huge was an understatement. He was every bit of twelve feet tall, and every bit of five feet wide.

" Not doing anything! I swear! Please don't hurt me!"

''ARE YOU A MUGGLE?"

"A what?

"OH, LORD. THIS AIN'T GOOD"

Henry was so scared he couldn't move, even if he wanted to. The giant picked him up, put him in a wooden boat along with a half dozen children, and the boats moved along the water toward a castle. With lights flickering and towers stretching to the sky.

The light was getting very dim so it was hard to make out details, but it held a look of great power and importance. Henry shrank himself down in the boat, trying to ignore the comments and looks from the children. One child with round glasses kept asking him things, but Henry didn't hear him. He only wanted to wake up from whatever dream or nightmare he was having.

As the boats docked themselves the giant picked Henry up and carried him by his jacket. The children followed as they made the way to the castle.

An older lady in plaid robes and a pointed hat walked out to door to meet them, and it a very thick Scotts accent, asked

"Hagrid! Who is that?"

"I THINK HE IS A MUGGLE, PROFESSOR"

"A what? That is simply impossible! No muggle has ever found Hogwarts."

Henry could not stand it any longer.

"WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON! I'M NOT A MUGGLE, I'M AMERICAN! DAMN PROUD OF IT TOO! AND TELL THIS HULK TO PUT ME DOWN! PLEASE!