His hunch was right. Over the next two hours, Harry watched as more groups of people performed the stick-brick ritual and disappeared into the wall. He also noticed that the people were dressed weirdly. He hadn't seen a single one of the strange people wearing a T-shirt - it was all long cloaks and weird pointy hats. They spoke normal English, all right, but they talked about strange things. From his spot, Harry could only make out a few tidbits of conversation, and he heard things like "No, No, you have to stir three times left, and then add the boomslang eyes" and "The new Irish seeker is so good that he caught the snitch in two minutes!". People were also coming out as well as going into the brick wall, and Harry saw that these people usually had bags full of stuff with them. Maybe there was a secret shop behind the wall?

It was getting late. When Harry took the bus here, he hadn't thought how he would get back, or even if he wanted to go back. Considering that Vernon hit him for the smallest of things, Harry didn't even want to think about what Vernon would do this time. But if he didn't go back, where would he stay? Harry had no friends and didn't know anyone outside of Little Whinging, much less this godforsaken part of London he had wandered into. Harry remembered the stories that Petunia told him about what happened to bad kids who ran away: they would be kidnapped and never seen again. Harry really didn't want that. Then again, nobody had hurt him yet, and actually people were pretty nice. Harry decided to try his luck some more.

Just then, a large group of people appeared at the street intersection and started walking toward the brick wall. Once they same closer, Harry got a better look at them. This was interesting - all but one of them had red hair, and about half were Harry's age. Harry decided they were probably a large family, and also wondered if because of that they would be willing to help him out. Harry stepped out from behind his hiding spot.

"Um, excuse me?"

The group of redheads stopped and turned to face him. The kids looked confused, but the woman plastered a smile on her face.

"Yes, dear? What can I help you with?"

Harry pointed at the brick wall. "Can you show me how to get in?"

"Ah, you've never been to Diagon Alley before. It's really simple."

The woman walked over to the wall.

"You just press these bricks here, and then the door opens. See?"

Harry watched as she disappeared through the wall, and then appeared again a few seconds later.

"Now you try."

With a feeling of dread, Harry approached the wall. He knew this wouldn't work for him, because he already tried it earlier and nothing happened. Still, he pressed the bricks in the order the woman directed, closed his eyes, and stepped forward. As expected, he banged his head straight into the wall, lost his balance, and tumbled to the ground.

The rest of the redheaded family exploded into laughter, and the woman frowned at him.

"Mom, he's a Muggle!"

The boy with black hair chimed in.

"Did you see how he just walked into the wall like an ape? He... He still doesn't know what's going on! Dumb Muggle!"

Everyone started laughing again.

The tallest redhead, presumably the father, tried to calm everyone down.

"Now, now, Arnold, we shouldn't make fun of Muggles. Muggles can become powerful wizards too."

Arnold snickered. "Not as powerful as me."

"Well, he's right. I don't think any old Muggle could have stopped You-know-who. Isn't that right, Ginny?"

"Ron, stop being mean. He's clearly scared."

"Dears, lets go. We have a lot of things to buy."

The redheaded family shuffled through the wall, one by one. Arnold was the last one. Before he stepped through the wall, he turned to face Harry.

"Silly Muggle. You'll never be able to get in here."

Harry saw red. As Arnold moved toward the wall, Harry launched himself at him. He hit Arnold right in the stomach, heard a satisfying "oof!" sound, and started whaling away at Arnold's face. Harry knew what he was doing - Dudley, when he was in a bad mood, would try to mess with Harry, and through much trial and error Harry had figured out the best way to fight a similarly-sized small child. Arnold started chanting something, but stopped when Harry whacked him in the mouth. Then Arnold started screaming, and Harry in his rage did not notice the redheads popping back through the wall, or the tallest one pointing a stick at him.

"Stupefy!"

Harry felt himself lifted in the air and slammed into the storefront behind him. As he lost consciousness, he was dimly aware of the redheads laughing again. Then everything went black.

The first thing Harry noticed upon waking was that it was dark. The moon was high in the sky, and the alleyway completely deserted. Harry gingerly checked the bump on his head and was relieved there was no blood. He walked over to the brick wall again and decided to try the combination one more time. Still nothing.

"I guess I really am a Muggle, whatever the hell that means." Harry sighed.

He started shivering, and then realized he was out in the middle of London, alone at night, with nobody to help him.

Ought he stay here? Wait until morning to decide what to do? Nah, it was too cold, and Harry didn't feel safe. He needed somewhere to stay.

Harry quickly checked if he still had his money, and relaxed a little when he found it. Maybe he could pay someone to let him stay for the night. And so Harry walked out of the alleyway, found himself on Charing Cross road, and continued walking. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. There were a few stragglers in the streets, but they all seemed too incapacitated to notice him. With nothing but the occasional stray cat to keep him company, Harry stumbled on, looking for a house with light in the windows.

At last he came to one such house. Steeling himself as if Vernon were behind the door, Harry knocked. A few seconds later, an old man with a book in his hands opened the door. The man smiled.

"How are you this fine evening?"

"Uh... I'm looking for somewhere to stay, and I was hoping that... "

"Say no more! I used to teach at the city college, and I'm in sore need of company these days. You can stay, but first tell me why a kid dressed like a beggar on my doorstep."

Harry, desperate to get out of the cold, told the old professor about the strange things he had experienced, from ditching Vernon at the shopping center to riding a bus halfway across the city to spying on weird people disappearing into a brick wall to getting knocked out by a red light to his nighttime walk along Charing Cross Road. When his story was finally over, Harry looked up expectantly. The man burst out in laughter.

"I tell you kid, you'll go far as a writer if you came up with that on your own. I would have given high marks to any one of my students for your story."

"But, but it's true! You have to believe me!"

"Of course, of course. Listen, kid. You're really funny, but I think that it is time for you to sleep. There's a guest room upstairs that you can take. Tomorrow we'll call your parents, and then everything will be fine. Sounds good?"

Harry had no intention of calling the Dursleys.

"But I don't know my parents' phone number! I mean, they never let me answer anything, and I never get to call anyone either."

The professor frowned in dismay. "Well, I guess this will be more tricky than I thought. I'll have to turn you in to Child Protection tomorrow, and they'll be able to figure out where your parents are. In any case, it is getting late, and I'm sure you're tired."

Come to think of it, Harry was extremely tired. He had dealt with enough shit today - yes, Harry thought, he deserved a break from all this craziness. If he had to, he could just give the professor the slip tomorrow. So Harry Potter headed off to bed, his head still trying to make sense of the crazy world he had thrust himself into.