July 23rd 1991.
A banging on the door woke Harry from sleep. The dust in the cupboard smothering him as he bolted upright. Who on earth was knocking on the Dursley's door at 6am in the morning? Pulling off the hole ridded blanket, harry stood up. He was short, even for his age, but his head still grazed the ceiling of his 'room'. A tiny thing hidden away under the stairs in the hopes the world would forget about it and the person who lived there. He opened the door, the rusty hinges filling the silence that had taken hold now that the knocking had stopped. He couldn't hear footsteps from upstairs, despite the explosive knocks on their door beforehand, the Dursley's were still asleep. He shuffled over to the door, the last remanent of pale moonlight filtering through the windows that decorated it. A man stood on the other side, harry assumed it was a man at least, tall, broad shouldered and wearing a cloak of some kind. Harry, having finished observing the stranger and figuring no robber would just knock at the front door, opened it.
The man towered over Harry, a black fur lined cloak billowing in the wind behind him. He was pale, yet not sickly. Old, yet far from feeble. He looked like Santa if he had spent the majority of his life in the Russian mafia, harry almost laughed at this, before realising he should probably greet the imposing stranger.
"U-um, are you looking for the Dursley's?" Harry muttered nervously, feeling inadequate in his striped pyjamas.
"No. I am looking for Harry Potter, I'm told he lives here? Could you get him for me?" The man replied, his accent was difficult to place, Nordic?
"Th-that would be me sir, I'm h-harry potter." Harry stuttered out. Why would someone be looking for him? Let alone mirror dimension mob boss Santa at 6am in the morning.
The man looked surprised for some reason, perhaps he was looking for another Harry Potter and got the names mixed up? Then, the man, his face suddenly a picture of intensity stared into Harry's eyes. Harry blinked, then staggered back. What had just happened? It was as if the world itself had stuttered for a second.
"Merlin, Mr. Potter, I didn't realise you were living with muggles, much less being treated like one! My name is Igor Karkaroff Mr. Potter, I was a friend of your father's." The man, Igor Karkaroff, pulled off his thick leather gloves and stuck out his hand. Harry, nervously reciprocated and shook it.
"My father? You knew my father?"
"Aye, he saved my life, in more ways then one. That's why I'm here today. Although I expected this to be easier to explain" Karkaroff explained before muttering under his breath "What have you done Albus" The man made his way inside and manoeuvred into the living room without needing directions, sitting down in Vernon's favourite chair. "Boy, this is going to sound strange, maybe even crazy, definitely crazy actually but… You are wizard Harry"
"A what?" Harry replied, surely, he had misheard.
"A wizard, like your parents before you. Before, when I looked into your eyes, I used magic to check your memories for the truth. You don't look much like your father when I knew him, though perhaps there is some resemblance to him in his younger years. But, I suppose you would prefer some proof that's a bit more convincing then an intense stare" He chuckled to himself while pulling out a long stick from a pocket in his cloak.
"Propugno!" Karkaroff spoke with a twist of the stick, and suddenly a lifelike 3d image stood on the table. Harry had never seen the man who stood like 30 centre metre high action figure on the table, but he knew instantly who it was. Black messy hair and wire circular glasses.
"Dad" Harry whispered to himself.
"Aye, your father. Before I whisk you away from this hellhole, I should probably give you a reason to trust me. After all, any idiot could stroll up here and provided they don't intend harm to your person, they could take you away. So, my name is Igor Karkaroff. I am the headmaster of the greatest wizarding educatory institution in the world, Durmstrang. And I owe your father a great deak, you see James is the reason I am not locked up in a place that would be charitably referred to by any muggle as the literal hell. I promised James, a mere week before his murder, that I would protect you. That I would use my knowledge and contacts with these 'terrorists' that were after him to make sure that, should he die, I would be able to make sure they never got you. Of course, we expected this vague possibility to occur, if it were to occur at all, months after he talked to me. Not a bloody week. I failed him then. I am here to ensure I never do so again. As such, I am inviting you to my school, where I will personally ensure your safety and training. So, you can grow up to be a wizard worthy of your father's surname."
"Murder? Terrorists? I thought he died In a car crash!" Harry sputtered out, his mind racing at the implications of everything he had just been told.
"A bloody car crash? James Potter, the Scourge of Knocktown killed in a bloody car crash! Your father died fighting the most powerful dark wizard to have ever existed. Your father died with his wand in hand protecting his wife and yourself. Who dared tell you he died in a fucking car crash." Igor finished, his voice booming.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs and seconds later, the whale of a man that was Vernon in maroon pyjamas stood at the door.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOU-!" He roared before Igor waved his stick and a rope gag that appeared in his mouth.
Karkaroff pointed his wand directly at the man, gestured with this other hand at the couch. " Have a seat Mr. Dursley" His voice was calm yet held a razor edge that informed Mr Dursley that he would be sitting regardless of his own complaints.
" My name, Mr Dursley, is Igor Karkaroff. I am a wizard. I will be taking harry here out for the day. I may return here with him, and If I do, you will treat him as royalty. If you fail to do so, you will die. Am I understood? nod, if I am."? His voice was steady, like he was reading off a menu. But the glint in his eye as he maintained eye contact with the gaged man on the couch ensured his threat was not taken lightly. "Now come along now Mr. Potter, we're going to make a wizard of you yet." He said, now strolling out towards the door, cloak billowing behind him.
The crisp mourning breeze gently tugged at Harry's Pyjamas, the heat of his body being slowly dragged along with it as it left. Privet Drive was exceptional in it's unexceptionality. The houses stood together like soldiers, each one's uniform identical and pristine. Despite living in the neighbourhood all his life, Harry still sometimes got confused over which house was his, much to the delight of Dudley who would watch and laugh from a distance as Harry walked into someone else's house. Igor's cloak billowed in the wind as he walked onto the empty street. Harry followed suit, his bare feet freezing as it paced over the low cut grass and then stinging as they paced over the uneven gravel.
" We had to get out of the wards" Igor said stopping halfway onto the road, as if this explained something. "Now Mr. Potter, grab my hand."
Harry reached out gently touching the mans leather-like hands, a second passed, and his world turned in on itself. It felt as though every bone in his body was being squeezed and bent and stretched, like he was being compacted by a hydraulic press but was unable to break only bend and contort. As the world blurred into a mess of lines and indistinct shapes and pain tore at his every fibre of being, harry decided he didn't particularly like this method of transportation. Finally, after a few seconds of this, the world stood still. The change was abrupt, as if he had been flying a plane at uncountable speeds only for it completely stop. Harry's knees collapsed from under him, his face flying into the ground below. It was cold, and awfully white. He looked up, only vaguely aware of the vomit like drool that was dripping from his mouth. There was snow on the ground. There was snow everywhere. Harry had seen snow before, so its existence wasn't surprising, it was that fact that there was snow as far as the eye could see, in the middle of summer, that came as a shock.
"W-where are we?" Harry managed to say through the chattering of his teeth.
"Good question, though the better question is, where are we going?" Igor replied, laughing as if he had made a brilliant joke. The man raised his stick, or wand, Harry supposed, at muttered some words before tapping it to a rock that barely stood out of the snow. The rock shifted a bit, then began to shake, before starting to rise. The rock made up the toolset stone in the arch that raised itself out of the snow. Markings of some language began to glow blue as the stone arch finished its rise. It stood 3 metres tool and perhaps a metre wide at its base. The rocks all had glowing runes of some sort decorating them and the inside of the arch was like a glazed window into another world. Harry went to take a closer look at the other side when a force slammed into him from behind, shoving him through.
The first thing that hit him was the temperature, Harry had gone from his blood freezing in his veins to feeling a pleasant warmth course through his body in a matter of seconds. The second thing that hit him was a stranger sprinting through the alleyway he was in.
"Oi, watch it!" That man yelled behind him as he raced away.
The alley was all clean-cut grey stone, the pavement was made of interlocking faded red bricks. As far as alley's went, this was pretty good, harry thought to himself. The shock of stepping through a portal into an unknown city yet to catch up with him.
"Stop admiring the ground, we have magic to do, people to see, and school supplies to purchase" Igor chuckled behind him. "First things first, as stylish as they are, I'm afraid you can't go out in public in… those…" He pointed at Harry's striped Pyjamas, then waved his wand in a complex motion and tapped them. His shirt extended into a red collared uniform, vaguely reminiscent of what harry assumed soldiers used to wear. His pants grew thicker and brown, while heavy black boots sprouted around his feet. The sensation was odd but harry had given up caring about such things after the portal. Instead, he looked down and inspected his new clothes, he looked… well odd. As if an 1800s British military uniform had been retrofitted for casualwear. It was decidedly more comfortable then the Pyjamas which had always been far too big for him, and it at least looked enough like casual clothes to where Harry could tolerate being seen in public in it.
"There we are, looking sharp, now come on, the fun part is about to start" Igor dragged harry through the alley by his collar, Harry knew he was light but the ease with which Igor moved his body was ridiculous. After an embarrassing couple of seconds, Igor let go, letting harry stumble as he left the confines of the alley. If the hologram, or teleportation, or instant and impossible tailoring hadn't convinced harry of magic yet, this certainly did. Because no other word then magical could truly describe the sight before his eyes. Hundreds of people went about there day, laughing and chatting atop the brick road barely noticing the people who flew around on brooms above, or the stores with cauldrons of mysterious simmering liquids bubbling away or puzzles that seemed to solve themselves into a different picture each time. He saw a woman in military uniform who was levitating a bound man into a flying carriage, and a shirtless man advertising love potions who's chiselled abs could be called nothing but sheer magic. Children stood of to the side of the main road, throwing and catching balls of fire that spun around and did tricks as it flew through the air. A bird flew passed a woman with hair that looked like fire towards a 16th century style bar, turning into a man to open the door.
"Welcome Harry, to Chronic Alley" Igor said, grinning as he watched Harry's eyes race back and forth as he took in the magic world for the first time.