A/N: Sorry it's taken a while to update. I'm afraid I was busy taking a trip to England... smirks. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- It belongs to JKR. She is quoted in some places, where the story overlaps briefly with cannon, as somethings wouldn't change, and I find it takes depth away from a story to cut out details, not to mention some of them are useful to the plot I'm working with. In previous chapters, however, the text has been largly adapted and rearranged, and so is mostly not direct quotes, though extremely similar.

"If you fail me again..."

"I won't master!"

"I'll be forced to supervise you more closely. Come now, Quirrel. We've found enough information here. My old books had all the information we'll need."

"Yes master."

The man got up and walked from the room, for indeed, there was only one person there. Harry followed, undetected. He had several reasons for doing so. To start with, he was curious. He wanted to learn more, especially about magic, or whatever it was he'd been using for the past few years. He didn't trust this person, these people, as far as he could throw them, which was not at all, and didn't think it was a good idea to let him, them, get out of his sight before he'd learned more. But first and foremost, he, or they, whichever it was, had mentioned his name, and obviously was up to something. Harry, for one, wanted to find out what.

"How should we travel to Hogwarts, my Lord?"

"Aparate to Hogshead."

"My Lord?"

"How did you think we'd get there, fool? The Hogwarts Express?"

"Nnnno m-milord. It doesn't leave Kings Cross until s-September first. The barrier to Platform nine and three quarters w-will be closed until then. We need t-to get the j-job first."

"And Hogsmeade is the nearest apparation point. Quit wasting my time!"

"Yes m-my Lord."

A loud crack filled the air, and in a moment, they were gone. Harry stared at the empty spot where the man had stood only moments before. How distastefully unsubtle. Harry always traveled without the irritating sound effects. He couldn't follow him, them, whichever it was, at the moment, but he knew plainly enough where he could go to find them. He didn't have a ticket on the "Hogwarts Express," but he could sneak on easily enough, if he could manage to get to Kings Cross.

The first thing he needed to do was cover his tracks, in other words insure he wouldn't be missed at the pub if he was gone for a lengthy duration of time, which he suspected he would be, and secure transportation to Kings Cross Station. Little Hangleton was, frankly, too small to be connected to the railway system, and it was a fair distance to London. He could try and travel by bus routes, but that would cost money, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be gone; he might need it for emergencies. He didn't know what times all the buses he would need would leave, or how long it would take to get from place to place, which was problematic, and would run the risk of not being able to find somewhere safe to spend the night. His best bet was probably to play off the townspeople's affection and sympathy for him, and so the next day, upon entering the pub, he brought up the issue.

"I might be leaving in little while. Leaving Little Hangleton I mean."

"What?"

"Where? Why?"

"We almost have enough for me to go to a proper school now. We've been saving for years. If only..."

"Sounds great kid, what's the problem?"

"I need to figure out a way to get to London by eleven on September the first if I'm to go. We don't own a car, and public transportation costs money. It's a long ways to travel."

"No problem, kid." It was one of the younger waitresses, who had just come by to collect dishes, who spoke up, "Dad was planning to take me to London sometime next fall, as I need to be looking around at universities. No reason we couldn't go then, and give you a ride."

"Thanks Kait," he gave an innocent, thankful grin in her direction.

One of the customers spoke up gruffly, "Be sure to come back on holidays and visit us all, mind."

"Of course."

London is, to say the least, a rather interesting city. Whether you're looking for shops, youth hostels, museums, interesting architecture, or the sites of various horror stories, it is a city with something to offer. An interesting mix of modern buildings and old stone ones, many of which now have modern metal roofs, it displays one of the distinct qualities of England- its history. While many of those who have lived around ancient castles and cathedrals all their lives are used to them, visitors are often seen staring at them in amazement (recognizable, of course, by things such as clothes displaying names of places in Britain, cameras, and obvious lack of British accents). Harry wandered through London, looking for signs, and occasionally asking for directions until he found Kings Cross.

He had a disguise of sorts, as he deemed it less than wise to be invisible in a crowded station. His hair was shoulder length now, so that wasn't a problem, as it was much longer than it had been at his relatives or at the orphanage. He wore an old pair of sunglasses and had a bandana tied around his forehead, both items which he'd nicked from houses a few miles from Little Hangleton. As his eyes and his scar were, he figured, his most noticeable features, he thought it was best to keep them covered. It was best, in Harry's experience, to be noticed as little as possible.

The train station itself was bustling with people preparing to board trains to various places. Harry had arrived by 10:15, and as he wasn't entirely sure where to go next, he spent his first few minutes glancing around. The ceiling was high, and arch-shaped. Set of train tracks could be seen, with people hurrying to get on board, and in some cases get their luggage to the baggage car. Each platform was clearly marked, and an electronic sign read, 'Welcome to Kings Cross.' A set of stairs near by lead down, away from the trains, to the subway. He followed a sign on the wall, which read, 'Platforms 9-11,' finally reaching Platforms nine and ten. Then he stood to the side, eyes scanning over the crowd, listening alertly in search of something that might give him a further clue as to what to do next.

It was a red headed family that finally caught Harry's attention. They used odd vocabulary (such as 'Muggles,' whatever that meant), and one of the older children had a owl. After watching them disappear through the barrier between nine and ten, he switched to invisibility and followed.

Walking through something that looks solid is desidedly odd. It felt, in a way, like an agknowledgement that nothing would ever be normal in his life. On the other side, a scarlet steam engine could be seen by a Platform that was, unfortunately, packed with people. He dodged through the crowd as carefully as possible, and slipped into the last empty compartment on the train to sit down, invisible. He decided against moving far into the corner. He need to be able to move if necesary.

Glancing out the window, he could see the red-headed family. It was rather unsurprising that he had noticed them, they were a rather conspicous bunch. Oddly enough, it was mostly children boarding. It seemed rather ironic, almost as if this Hogwarts place was actually a school, as he'd told those he did associate with in Little Hangleton. Hell, with his luck it probably was a school. He took a moment to tune into what they were saying in hopes that he might learn something useful.

"Can't stay long Mother. I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" asked one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term- send me an owl when you get there."

Well, it was definitely a school then. A boarding school, by the sound of it. Send an owl, however? That and the fact they'd had to walk through a wall to get here indicated that it was almost assuredly not an ordinary boarding school.

"Now, you two- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've- you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's not funny. Any look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again.

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. Their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move, starting its journey to take Harry to the school, Hogwarts, where ever that was. A school where Quirrel was in some sort of plot with a voice in his head over the theft of a rock, which despite sounding like pure lunacy, it was important to some extent at least, because he knew something of Harry. I short, a train was taking him on some crazy wild goose chase over something he'd heard, but he couldn't have stayed at the manor without finding out, as they'd gone in there before, and strangely, despite the craziness, he didn't regret being here. The red-headed boys' mother and sister were running beside the train, half laughing, half crying, until the train gathered speed. Moments later the platform was out of sight.