Note: Yes I know its only been an hour, but I was bored so I wrote another chapter. Again, I know it's really short, but I felt like it was a good place to leave off. Please review and let me know what you think!
Chapter 3
A month came and went before the opportunity arose.
Uncle Vernon was out on a business trip, something about another drill company's product challenging Grunning's latest model, and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to visit Vernon's sister Marge for the week.
As soon as Harry was sure that his aunt and cousin wouldn't be back, he had snuck into his cousins room, searching all round for the money the large boy and his gang stole from the kids at school that he knew was hidden somewhere.
It took all of three minutes for Harry to think to lift the slightly squashed mattress and reveal the bag of bills underneath.
He snatched it, counting out enough for a trip to London and back.
Carefully making sure everything looked the same, Harry left the room.
He put on one of Dudley's oversized jackets and walked outside, flagging the soonest cab that came.
"Where to, boss?"
"The Leaky Cauldron in London, please."
The driver looked back, surprised at the sound of Harry's voice.
"Thats a long drive, kid," said the driver, clearly skeptical, "You got the money for that?"
Harry simply held up his handful of bills.
The driver nodded and turned back around.
An hour later, Harry handed the man his payment and exited the vehicle, staring dubiously at the tiny, grubby-looking pub before him. He noticed the people walking by it seemed not to notice it, and that even he had trouble focusing directly upon it. He had a feeling that if he hadn't specifically been looking for the building, his gaze would've slipped by it just like the rest of the people. That was proof enough that something about the place wasn't normal, and that he had come to the right place.
He walked in.
It was a dark and rather shabby looking place, filled with people in strangely assorted clothing, all clamoring about loudly. He remembered McGonagall's instructions - to find the brick in the wall above the dustbins - and began walking towards the door in the back leading to the dirty looking courtyard, before he was promptly knocked over as someone in the crowd bumped into him.
Harry grumbled in annoyance and picked his glasses off the floor, hoping they weren't broken.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
The voice was smooth and refined.
Harry put his glasses back on, and looked up towards it.
A thin, pale man with a turban hovered above him wearing a pleasant yet worried expression, before his eyes flicked quickly to Harry's scar and his smile darkened and disappeared.
Harry prepared a response to assure the man it was not a problem, but as he made eye contact his scar burst with pain.
He hissed and raised a hand to his head, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the thin man seemed to wince and stumble at the same time.
Something was wrong.
Even with no knowledge of magic or any of its workings, Harry knew that something dark had happened, and that he needed to avoid this man.
He recovered first, and leapt away towards the courtyard as the thin man snarled and leapt towards him.
Harry pushed through the crowd and slid outside, slamming the door shut behind him in a desperate attempt to slow whoever the man that had hurt him was.
Standing up, Harry ran his hand down the wall that McGonagall had described, praying that he would find the brick before the man caught up.
A muffled curse was heard through the door, and Harry's touch finally caused the bricks to slide away to form a hole in the wall.
He leapt through it, heart pounding.
"Alohomora!"
Harry didn't look back as the man's incantation burst the door open, running down the cobbled street as fast as his feet could carry him.