It had occured to Vernon and Petunia Dursley that their adopted nephew was not an ordinary boy. There was the whole son of a witch and a wizard thing but there was something beyond even that. Harry Potter was not normal. Instead he would lock himself in the closet, the closet of all things! It wasn't even his closet but the one under the stairs. There was a lock on the inside of the door and young Harry would lock himself in there doing heavens knew what. Vernon was concerned because that's where his secret stash of skin magazines were. However when he had checked surreptitiously when Harry was absent the covert pile looked untouched.
What Vernon had forgotten was that there was also a small cache of books in there, a relic of Vernon's younger days when he had been a fan of Robert E Howard. Harry Potter was in fact spending every waking moment reading of the exploits of Conan. He felt that he too had some cosmic destiny and knew that one did not get help from adoptive parents. Harry was a little concerned himself by his adoptive family. By all accounts they should be evil, or dead. He waited patiently, safe in his sanctum meditating on the exploits of the heroic Cimmerian waiting for the Dursleys to reveal themselves to be necromancers. sorcerors, allies of Shub Niggurath or to be slain by such so that he could manifest his destiny and take bloody revenge.
The video cassette recording of Conan the Barbarian was incredibly worn at four privet drive. It was the video Harry would always request and his adoptive parents thought little of it. Children watched things over and over, it was a reassuring touch of normality and also he wasn't locked in the closet while watching it.
It came as something of a relief when, at age 9, Harry took an interest in metalwork and took to mucking about in the shed when not in the closet. Mucking about in sheds was a fine british past-time and very normal. The Dursleys would have been more concerned if they knew what Harry was working on.
It was a sword. It was to be a steel blade but the riddle of steel was giving young Harry some trouble. Most troubling was where he could get a suitable slave in which to finally quench the blade. England had foolishly abandoned the practice centuries ago. Harry was certain that the neighbours cat would not suffice.
However, Harry's work on the blade and his aunt and uncles concerns came to an abrupt end when the letter arrived, just before Harry's eleventh birthday. The letter was adressed to Harry. His uncle handed it to him, a little nervously.
"Um, lad. This is for you." said Vernon.
Harry took the letter, opened it and read the contents. He scowled, frowned and tried scowling again.
"It says I am a wizard. Is this a trap?" he asked Vernon.
"Sorry son. We were sort of hoping it wouldn't happen. But your parents were wizards and so are you. They have a special school and everything. You'll get to stay there all year and make all sorts of friends." Vernon tried to sound hopeful. Harry was quite a solemn child and didn't have regular friends. But surely a magical school would have something to break Harry out of his shell.
"What is this 'Hogwarts', I thought I was going to Smeltings, like Dudley." said Harry.
"Well, yes. But this is a wizard school. It would be fantastic. They probably have broom races, and um, monster taming. You'll meet sorceresses, and unicorns and giants." said Vernon, dredging his memory of things magical.
"I shall defeat them all. Is this my quest?" said Harry.
A vague memory twinged in Vernon's overly mundane mind. "Yes a quest lad. You are to go, go to this Hedgeworts and seek out the evil within." he said.
"I shall do so. I shall find the evil sorceror and slay him." said Harry.
The prospect of his adoptive charge murdering what was in all likely some teacher worried Vernon. "Um, well, let's not be hasty about this slaying business. Could you not just give it a reccy first. Scout it out, yes, that's the idea. Scout out this lair of wizards and then report back at the end of the year."
Harry paused and scowled some more. "Yes, I shall do that. I will investigate and learn the secrets of my enemies so that when it is time to strike I can do so swiftly and without mercy." Harry said.
"Uh, yeah. You do that. Look first. Then come back and I can decide if there needs to be any, slaying." said Vernon.
"It will be done. It says here I need supplies. From London. Can we venture forth and procure what I need for my quest."
"Uh, yes." said Vernon, glad to be on a topic that did not involve murdering some hapless person. "But let's go on Saturday, we can take your Aunt and Dudley as well, make a trip of it."
"I shall go and prepare." said Harry. Harry then went into the corridor and Vernon could hear the closet door open and shut.
Thus began the chronicle of Harry Potter and the Sorceror of Hogwarts.
That Saturday saw Harry in the back of the Dursley's car while Vernon searched for a place to park in the middle of London. Normally Harry hated car trips. His aunt and uncle had trouble with maps and directions and most journeys ended in an row. They also took him away from the closet or shed. But today Harry was excited, he was on a quest! Already he had spotted several garishly dressed people heading to where the letter had indicated was the mysterious Diagon Alley near Kings Cross. But whenever he tried to point them out to his relatives they seemed to miss them. That meant these sorcerors were using some spell to occlude themselves from normal sight. Harry knew that to keep such a spell going would require a totem, or a gem or suchlike to maintain it.
While his uncle had forbidden him to slay anyone without his permission he had said nothing about pulling away the mystic viel they had pulled over everybody's eyes. He would seek it out and destroy it!
Eventually Vernon found a park and they made their way through the loud, noisome streets towards Kings Cross. Again, Harry noticed many strangely dressed persons who were clearly wizards. However, the only unusual people to trouble his uncle and aunt were when some Hare Krishnas passed them chanting and a street evangelist had stopped mid-rant, marched over to Uncle Vernon and grabbed him.
"Beware, beware. The dark one walks among you and you know it not!" the evangelist had screeched. Afterwards the man regained his composure, mumbled an apology and handed Vernon a leaflet. Vernon tossed it in the next rubbish bin they passed.
"Must be an American." muttered Vernon, "Know anything about a 'dark one' lad?" he asked Harry.
Harry scowled, "Nay, uncle. But I will seek out any such miscreant and..." he paused as his uncle held up a warning finger, "...report their presence back to you at the year's end." he finished deflated.
"Good, um, yes, good." said Vernon. "Now where's this Elliptical Way then?" Vernon peered up and down Euston Road. It seemed incredible to Harry that his uncle's gaze just slid over men dressed bright dresses, women with small dragons on their shoulders and children with owls as pets. He noticed that many were ducking into a narrow alley.
"Do not fear uncle. I see the way. Shall we proceed?" said Harry.
"Uh, yes. right" said Vernon. He paused and a frown crossed his features. "Uh, but first, perhaps I'll just get your Aunt and Dudley seated at that cafe. Your Aunt had a bit of blood with your mother, best not directly remind her. You wait here and then we can go in together."
While his uncle was tending to that task an oddly dressed young man shyly approached Harry. He was dressed in a pink and purple robe with actual silver stars on them. Behind him a young woman dressed in red and gold with what appeared to be live fireworks as accessories held he face in her hands and looked uncortable.
"Excuse me. Are you, are you, him." said the man.
"Am I who, sorceror?" said Harry and subjected the wizard to his best death glare. The man took this as being merely endearingly cute and seemed to notice the scar on his forehead.
"You are him!" he squeaked. He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it vigourously. "Thankyou, thankyou. Mr Potter. Dierdre! Have you got your camera? I'm shaking hands with Harry Potter."
The woman grimaced and looked like she wished to be anywhere else. But she did extract a large old camera from her purse and took the picture. She then dragged her still effusive friend away. Harry watched them go.
"Well now, let's get going. Um, soon as you say where?" said Vernon, who had returned. He had a small paper bag which he offered to Harry. It contained a cream pastry. "Best keep your sugar up." he said.
"We go this way, walk as I do." said Harry and headed for the gap between the shops. "Uncle, is there anything you may of forgotten to tell me."
"Not really lad. There was a bit of a...wow." said Vernon. They had stepped through into Diagon Alley. It appeared to be a full size street extending ahead and behind them filled with shops brimming with exotic objects and the people! The street was a riot of mad colours that clashed and fought one another as if they were in the midst of giant, frenzied birds of paradise.
"It is most impressive uncle, but we must forge on." said Harry who then dove into the crowd.
"Yes, of course. Hey! Wait for me." Vernon plunged into the chaos after his nephew.