The boy sat down outside a café in Diagon alley, it was the day before he left for Hogwarts, he was talking a kindly man he'd met in the leaky Cauldron earlier that day, a man who called himself Professor Quirrell and he was the 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' teacher at Hogwarts.

Quirrell was a very strange man, the boy thought because he always wore a turban and had a very constant stutter. He was telling the boy about a trip he'd had to Albania where he'd been forced to fight off a pack of Werewolves with a wand that wasn't his; while nursing a broken leg and was only saved by a small group of vampires happening across the werewolves giving him all the time he needed to fix his leg and escape. The boy listened to him with avid curiosity, as he'd never met a person who had fought a Werewolf because the Maxia had developed a cure for Lykanism over a century ago, vampirism however was still a difficulty.

'S-s-so-so, tell me a little bit about y-yo-your-yourself, boy, where are you from?' He asked.

'Well there isn't much to say, I mean, I'm barely eleven years old.' He said shyly. 'I was born in Australia, into the… wizarding community there' – Quirrel nodded, asking what it was like in Australia – 'It's hot, really hot because we live in the middle of the dessert to keep away from the eyes of the non-magicals. There are not many of us because of our isolation, so we normally take up our parents' occupation. My father's an Enforcer and so was my mother, kind of like your Aurors, so I will take up their role when am old enough.'

Quirrell leaned forwards, as if he was eager to hear more about Australia and the boy's family. 'S-s-so, what are you doing here? What brings and Auror and his son so f-f-fa-far away from h-h-ho-home?'

The boy sighed, he hadn't thought of a way to worm out of this and decide to pass blame on to his father. 'It's to do with training I think. My father brought me here because he thought it would be good for me.' The boy was hoping that his father would arrive soon, as he had gone off on a job interview with 'broom-making' company.

'Fascinating.' Quirrell said, suspiciously normal. 'A-a-all the way ac-ac-across th-the world for t-t-trai-train-training. Yo-you-your father must b-be serious about it th-then.'

Just as the boy was about respond, the boy felt a tap on his shoulder. 'Hello son.' His father said happily. 'I've got the job. Who's this you're talking with?'

Quirrell stood up to greet the boy's father, holding out a frail looking hand. 'M-My na-name is Quirinus Quirrell. I am a –t-teach-teacher at Hogwarts. Yo-Your son and I we-were j-j-just talking about you.'

The boy felt his cheeks go red as his father spoke. 'Have you really? Only the good bit I hope, right son?' He chuckled, shaking Quirrell's hand. 'I'm Layne, by the way, Layne Toivo, it's good to meet you, Quirrell.'

Quirrell nodded. 'Y-You-Your son tells me you a-a-are an Enforcer, similar to our Au-Aur-Aurors here in Britain. So w-w-what are you doing here in Britain, m-m-may I ask?'

Layne turned to his son and gave a clear look. 'I've had to leave the force because of an injury. Even with magic it will take too long to heal, so I have decided to take the time to give my son a more worldly view and make him a better Enforcer when he takes up my role.'

'F-F-Facinating.' Quirrell stuttered. 'Now I-I-I must be off, I was h-he-here in town b-b-be—bec-because I wanted to pick up a new b-b-book on V-V-Vamp-Vampires. Good day to you both and g-g-g-good luck to you, b-b-boy.'

Layne and his son bid good-bye to Quirrell before having a hushed discussion. 'Son, you must never tell anyone about my true career because people will get suspicious. As far as anyone is to be concerned, I am Layne Toivo, broom manufacturer for Nimbus Brooms and you are my son going to Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry. Nothing more, nothing less. Understand? – the boy nodded – 'We're just lucky that he's Hogwarts professor that sounds like a stammering idiot, not many people will take him seriously outside of his classroom. And yes I now work for Nimbus brooms, I'll make you one as soon as you turn twelve.'

The boy smiled and hugged his father. 'That's great dad! Thank you so much!'

Layne smiled. 'Come now son. We need to get you packed for tomorrow, also if you're luck, we might get a game of chess in before lunch.'

The boy cheered and walked off with his father, back towards the Leaky Cauldron.