Harry Potter had packed his meagre belongings in a small bindle – just a couple changes of clothes, a stuffed animal, the very little money to his name, and the only picture he had of his parents. He had spent nearly nine years with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley… he was ignored, taunted, malnourished, even abused… Harry was utterly sick of it and was looking for a way out.
Harry had just turned ten years old and was sick of seeing Dudley being coddled while he barely got any attention, and the little attention he received was without exception negative in nature. He had plotted his escape for several months, thinking of how to leave the Dursley's forever and un-noticed. He was wondering where he could stay. He had no friends, no other family that he knew of.
Over time, he was able to gradually loosen the lock that forced the cupboard door shut tight. If sufficiently loosened, he could simply give the door a bit of a push and it would open. Tonight would be the night to try it, he thought.
He thought about leaving a note behind, but he ultimately decided against it because the Dursleys did not care, he felt. And if they did, they would hunt him down and give him a punishment far more severe than anything he's ever received up until that point. He took no chances this time, leaving without a trace or an excuse would be the best.
It was about four in the morning when he decided to make his escape. As expected, after pushing all of his small frame against the door, it creaked open – softly enough that it would not wake anyone up, he hoped. He had tiptoed out into the kitchen, and out the front door, bindle in hand. When he closed the door, he heard the unmistakable sounds of crickets chirping and a dog or two barking somewhere in the neighborhood.
Harry then decided to flee as fast as his little legs could carry him. He would run until he could run no more, and he didn't care where. He had hoped to find a bus stop or a train station somewhere, maybe to London, maybe Liverpool… anywhere that wasn't Little Whinging in Surrey.
As luck would have it, he had come across a bus terminal at about eight in the morning. He walked up to the counter and asked the ticket taker how much it would cost to get a ticket to London.
"That would be six pounds, love," the lady at the counter told Harry.
"I'm not sure I have that much… you see, I'm in a bit of trouble and I'm trying to find some relatives in London. I've been living in an abusive household for the past several years and I just need to get out, and fast. I can't take it anymore." Harry was on the verge of tears.
The lady smiled at Harry. "Don't worry about it, dear," she said in a kindly voice. "I'll cover your bus fare this once, and you look like you could use a bite to eat. Would you like an apple or some strawberries or the like?"
Harry nodded appreciatively. "Anything, ma'am," he said gratefully. "Thank you." The ticket taker lady pointed Harry to a small kiosk in the corner of the terminal. "Help yourself to a little fruit or a muffin or the like. You may grab a cup of water if you'd like."
Harry smiled at the kind lady. "You're a life saver, ma'am," he replied. "Thank you so much. And what time does the bus leave for London?"
"At eight forty five, love," the ticket taker replied.
"Perfect, thank you. Shall I wait here?" Harry asked.
"Yes, you may sit on the bench until the bus number is called. Bus 59. Here's your ticket, dear."
Harry went to the kiosk to grab a few berries and some water, and munched quietly while he waited on Bus 59 to be called.
It wasn't that long when he heard the bus number called.
"That's your cue, dear," the ticket taker said to Harry. "Follow the path between those barriers, and you can show your ticket to the driver. He or she will show you where your seat is at."
"Thanks again," Harry replied.
He did as he was instructed, and found bus number 59. He smiled at the driver, and showed him the ticket. "Where do I sit, sir?" Harry asked politely.
"Good morning, son. You may sit in the window seat. That's row 5A, on the left hand side of the bus and the fifth row from the front."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, sir," he replied. "How long is the ride to London?"
"There's a couple of stops along the way, so it might be two and half, maybe even three hours depending on traffic."
"That works for me," replied Harry, as he took his seat.
Harry nodded off to sleep as the bus took off from the terminal to London. He was still asleep when the bus stopped. The bus driver chuckled to himself as he got up and gently shook Harry awake. "Hey kid, we're here."
"We are? Where are we?" Harry asked groggily.
"We're in London, kid, that's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?" the driver responded.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was… thank you." Harry got up and exited the bus terminal.
He had never seen such a busy place, there were far more people at this bus terminal than there were in Surrey, that was for sure. He looked for a ticket taker to see if there was a map, maybe he could do a little sightseeing while he gathered his bearings, and formulated the next phase of his game plan. He got to London, which was great, but he didn't really know what to do next.
"Here you are, young man. This is a complimentary map. I hope you find what you're looking for," she said sincerely.
"Thank you," Harry replied. "I'm sure I will." He left the bus terminal, and went outside to sit on a bench as he looked at the map. "Hmm, it looks like the Victoria and Albert Museum is within walking distance, maybe forty five minutes away if I hoof it," he whispered to himself. He started making his way toward the famous museum, and less than an hour later, he found himself in front of the entrance.
He was about to go up the short flight of stairs and inside the museum when he heard a very strange voice call for him.
"Excuse me… you look a little lost, son."
Harry turned around to face the voice. The voice was very different, it was not English-sounding at all… it might have been American, he thought.
The man was tall, clean-shaven with short brown hair. He looked to be about thirty five years old, and had two boys with him. The older boy had shaggy blonde hair, and might have been about Harry's age, and the younger one might have been seven or eight, and had tufts of dark brown hair poking from underneath his baseball cap.
The man smiled at Harry. "My name's Mark Grimseth. And these are my sons, Kellen and Wyatt. I couldn't help but notice you're by yourself… I'm guessing you're not from around here, either."
Harry nodded. "I'm Harry… Harry from Surrey."
Mister Grimseth smiled. "I'm not sure where that is, but I'm guessing that's somewhere in England."
The older boy nodded at his father. "Surrey is a county in England, south and slightly west of London. An English county is similar to our states."
Harry was shocked that an American – especially one as young as that boy – was that knowledgeable about Great Britain.
The younger boy immediately thrust his hand out to Harry. "Hi Harry, I'm Wyatt. How are you?" He smiled a rather strange looking smile, as he looked to be missing a few teeth. Harry smiled and nodded, trying not to stare at Wyatt's mouth.
The older boy was a bit more hesitant to extend his hand, but Mister Grimseth gently prodded him to extend his hand as well.
"Oh… hi. I'm Kellen," the older boy said. He didn't give Harry eye contact, and only seemed to be reluctant to extend his hand to Harry.
"Don't mind Kellen," Mister Grimseth said. "He has Asperger Syndrome… he's not the sociable type. He likes you, I promise, Harry. He's my 'whiz kid'."
"So what are you doing out here by yourself?" Mister Grimseth asked Harry.
"It's a long story… let's just say that I don't have a proper family anymore and I am trying to start a new life somewhere else."
"Can he stay with us?" Wyatt asked. "He seems nice. He could help out with farm work back home! You keep saying how hard it is to find good farm hands."
"I don't know, Wyatt," Mister Grimseth replied. "We need to talk to your mother about this, for sure."
"My mother is British," Kellen said. "But we live in Minnesota, in the United States."
"That's a long way from here," Harry said. "I've never been outside of Great Britain."
"We're here visiting her side of the family," Mister Grimseth explained. "We go here every other year to visit."
"I see," replied Harry. "And thank you for taking the time to talk with me… you're far kinder than the family I lived with."