The dying sun cast an ethereal orange glow over the castle that presided over the small town of Hogsmeade. It was known as Hogwarts, as it's founders had been oddly addicted to the study to the skin infections of pigs. It was large, with several imposing spires striking up into the sky and massive wooden doors. Despite this, it was not very inhabited, Albus Dumbledore and his suspected concubines were the sole inhabitors (as well as the pigs who were the legal owners of the castle.)

It was also to this castle that Sir Potter headed towards. He walked with a purposeful gait that befitted a knight of the realm, and confidently ruffled his untameable black hair. A deadly sword swung on his belt as he moved and the finest leather armour covered his muscular body. Behind him dragged a ginger haired servant. 'Ronald, would you keep up,' Sir Potter ordered.

'Of course, sir,' Ron mumbled despondently in reply. His ginger hair poured out from under a leather cap with a massive hole in the top. His parents had said it was merely to go around his father's bald spot, but Ron was convinced that it was merely a ploy to avoid buying another one. His life of servitude was proof that they could not afford it. He was lanky and his armour too small, so that his bare arms hungly limply from them.

'Do not make us late for Lord Dumbledore's meeting, please. He has asked to see me personally,' Sir Potter said, with a smug grin. Lord Dumbledore was the overseer of the local land and his intelligence and kindness brought many great things to the land. Sweets and taxation among them. Only a few minutes ago a messenger had burst into Harry's house, interrupting him on the toilet, explaining that Dumbledore urgently wanted to speak with him. Sir Potter had quickly flushed and rushed on his way, naturally bringing his good friend and faithful servant, Ronald.

The pair had reached the great doors that were the entrance to Hogwarts, and Sir Potter rapped smartly on the door. The doors slowly heaved open after a brief interval, knocking Ronald into the moat. In they strode, nodding to the castle guards. 'Sir Potter!' They exclaimed as he passed, saluting. Sir Potter and Ronald were shown through a door, into a room with a dominating table and a swivel throne. Currently, the chair was facing the other way, and a sinister shape could be seen facing a glowing fire.

'Sir, a fire!" Ron yelled, attempting to race forwards. Sir Potter held him back.

'I appreciate your concern but it is alright,' spoke the sinister shape, sinisterly. 'After all, the fire is in a fireplace where it is meant to be.' He swiveled round in his throne and the graceful face of Lord Albus Dumbledore was revealed. 'Sir Potter, how wonderful of you to join me. To what do I owe this pleasure?'

Sir Potter bowed, but quickly snapped his gaze towards the old man. 'What do you mean? You sent for me, my liege.'

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'I did not. Must have been someone's idea of a joke,' he chuckled. Something inside Sir Potter broke, but he did not move. 'Never mind, I could use you.'

'Oh Aaaalbussss,' a feminine voice cooed. Sir Potter observed several women partially hidden behind a door, one holding beard wax and batting her eyelashes.

'Not now, dear, not now,' Albus responded. He turned back to Sir Potter, and put his fingers delicately together. 'Now, brave knight. I wish to send you on a quest.' Sir Potter jumped and started to race for the door, eager for his first quest. He was determined to make a good impression and dampen the jeers of the other knights. However, despite his mind willing him to do so, he found he could not move where he wanted to. Instead, he moved back into the room he had just left.

'I appreciate your enthusiasm Mr Potter, but I must first tell you what your quest is before I send you on it,' Dumbledore said, his calm features examining the young knight, his slightly risen hand appearing to be the reason he could not move. 'It will be dangerous.'

'I do not care.'

'I do,' Ron grumbled.

'You may know of the legends of the evil Lord who gathers power in the east?'

'Yes,' Harry breathed with anticipation.

'Lord Voldemort is the name he goes by. Concerning reports have made their way to me. Reports that indicate Lord Voldemort is not content with his control of Happy Flappy Fun Land. In short, he wishes to invade our pleasant and peaceful land and take the territory for himself. It is up to you to travel to Voldemort's land and stop him before he causes any more damage to our land. You have my thoughts and luck. Now, if you excuse me, I must put wax on my wife's beard.' And with that, the old man stood up and left the room, leaving Sir Potter and Ronald on their own.

Sir Potter, brimming with excitement, hurried to the nearest horse and brought one over for Ronald too. He skillfully climbed aboard his mount and watched with a grimace as his friend tried to mount his. However, his long flailing legs kicked the horse up the bottom and it reared up and shot away. Ron looked balefully after it as it disappeared over the horizon.

Sir Potter sighed. 'Come on, Ronald. You can share my horse,' he offered. He sighed again as Ronald scrambled delightedly up onto his horse and put his arms around him.

'Are we packed for their journey, sir?' Ron questioned, his horse-breath insulting Sir Potter's olfactory sense.

'Yes, I picked up enough to last us until the next town, Ronald.'

'Would you like me to pack some coconuts?'

'What for, we have our own horse? Now, onwards Steve.' And with that, the horse started on it's way and the two brave (well, one brave and one stupidly unaware) heroes disappeared into the sunset.

Meanwhile, in a dark and stormy tower, far away, a cloaked figure was hunched over a crystal ball, a black hood hiding his face. 'Hmm. Seer, who are these two fools?' he questioned with a wispy voice.

Huddled even closer to the crystal ball, which showed two young men riding along on a horse, was a mad-haired woman with monstrous glasses. 'I know nothing other than they are the ones destined to defeat you,' the Seer informed, gazing into the ball and trying to ignore the man hovering other her.

'Useless liar!' shouted the man known as Lord Voldemort, his robes twirling as he twitched in anger. 'They shall not defeat me. No one shall defeat me. Now, if you can give me no other information – Lestrange! Take Trelawney back to her cell.'

'No, please not the cell! Not again! Let me go...' Voldemort thrived upon those screams as Trelawney was dragged out of the room.

'Now to put a stop to these insignificant specks.' Voldemort slithered over towards a cube covered with a tarpaulin and pulled it off with one quick movement with his wand. 'Yes! Fly, my pretties, fly!' He lifted his arms as winged monkeys escaped out of the cage and flew off into the air, screeching. 'Mr Teeny, get going,' Voldemort scolded a straggler, kicking its booty as it finally took off.

'Sir, a thought has just occurred to me,' interjected one of his Death Eaters. 'If they are so insignificant, why are we bothering to send the Flying Monkeys of Death?'

Voldemort whipped around towards the outspoken man. 'Quiet,' he snapped. 'I will leave nothing to chance. Now, who's up for a game of croquet.'