lost way found

Miles Perry quietly opened the window of his second floor bedroom. He waited, but the voices downstairs didn’t
pause. Slinging his battered backpack over his shoulder, he expertly popped the mesh screen and climbed onto
the leg over the ledge. This home wasn’t that bad, really, but it was time to go. Miles could feel
himself getting edgy, and he didn’t want to hang around. He’d be saving them all some grief if he just left; It was
only a matter of time before dishes and the like started to mysteriously break, and he knew better than to wait
for that to happen. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he seemed to have that kind of effect on things. Foster
parents could only take so much before calling his caseworker, and he didn’t blame them. It couldn’t be fun to
find a small palm tree growing in your bathtub. He’d been out of the door of that house faster than you could
say “uproot,” despite his fervent denial of having anything to do with it. Miles had been six years old at the time.
Since then, he’d jumped from foster home to foster home throughout London, and was proud to say he’d run away
from every single one of them.
He dropped onto the roof of the porch, sliding down to the edge before jumping to the ground. Picking himself
up, Miles stared at the glow of the television visible through the back window. Satisfied that he remained
undetected, he walked into the night.

Three hours later, in the bathroom of the Stonecutter Street underground, Miles got ready for bed. Bridges in
central London were the best place to sleep on summer nights if he could ignore the stink of the polluted Thames.
He didn’t want to run into anyone tonight; he still had about £20 in cash (allowance saved for these purposes), but
he also had his last child support check taped to the inside of his shoe. It wouldn’t do to have that taken from him;
it was about £125, and if he rationed it right it could last him a very long time. First he had to discover how to
cash it in, though. He didn’t think he could just walk into a store and hand them the check, and he wasn’t sure
how to go about getting the money from a bank. He’d deal with that problem later, Miles told his reflection, who
stared at him with sleep shadowed eyes, one bright green, the other a cold blue.
His mismatched eyes were his least favorite feature, not because he didn’t like them -he thought it was pretty
cool to have two different colors- but because it only made it so much easier for his caseworkers to locate him.
He had stopped going to shelters entirely, not even for food. They knew him too well, and could be counted on to
call the agency immediately. What fun was it if you couldn’t even be on your own for a couple of days? Just long
enough for a placement change was all needed anyway.
Rummaging in his backpack, he pulled out scissors and an old newspaper, which he opened over a sink. Scissors
in hand, he grabbed a hank of his dark blond hair and snipped it off. He didn’t stop until the newspaper was
covered with long locks. When Miles finally looked up, his reflection was so different he almost didn’t recognize
himself. His head looked smaller and his ears stuck out a bit more, but that was good. The boy looking back
from the mirror smiled.

Blackfriar’s Bridge was deserted when he finally settled down to sleep, and the night passed uneventfully. Miles
woke to the noise of trolleys passing overhead, and for a moment just lay still, savoring the sounds of the city.
Thinking of breakfast, he rolled over to reach for his bag, knocking over an old brown beer bottle. He moved to toss
it away, but stopped when he saw it was tightly sealed and holding a rolled paper of some sort. The glass was still
wet from the river, and he wiped it carefully on his pants before opening it. Inside was an envelope of thick yellow
parchment, and the green writing on the front side almost made Miles’s heart stop.
Mr. M. Perry
North Riverbank
Blackfriar’s Bridge
London
Holding his breath, he looked around carefully. He’d had all sorts of threats from caseworkers, from starvation
to imprisonment, but nothing like this. Who was watching him closely enough to see through his new appearance?
Sitting down heavily, Miles opened the letter and began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Perry:
We are delighted to inform you of your acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please
find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than
July 31.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress


Ok, this had to be some kind of a joke. There was no way this was true, except… he really didn’t know how anyone
had delivered it, much less who could have gone through all this trouble for a prank. He looked through the other
papers in the envelope. One stood out- it was an address in an unfamiliar part of London.
Brushing himself off, Miles grabbed his backpack and went to find a map. It’s not like he had anything better
to do, after all. He’d find out if this Leaky Cauldron really existed, not that he expected it to, but at least it would
help solve some of the mystery.

The Leaky Cauldron did exist, squished between two other stores, but it seemed to Miles that only he could see it.
The street was busy with people walking to work, but none of them so much as glanced in the direction of the old
pub. The interior was dark and gloomy, the chairs still put up for the night. A door in the back opened to a dirty
little courtyard. From behind the bar, an old man in odd clothing cleared his throat. “Sorry, we’re closed ‘till
eleven. Come back in an hour.”
“Well, I got this letter, see? It says to come here, but I don’t know what else to do,” said Miles, laying the
envelope on the counter. Glancing at it, the old man nodded.
“Ah, here for supplies. Right this way.” He gestured for Miles to follow him into the courtyard. Crossing to
the far wall, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what could only be a-
“Is that a wand!?” The old man looked amused.
“Never seen one, have you? I suppose you don’t know Diagon Alley then, either?”
“No. Does it lead to Hogwarts? In the letter it says I need to go there.”
“You’ll catch a train to go to Hogwarts, but first you need your supplies. You are here for supplies, aren’t you?”
At Miles’s shrug, the old man reached for the envelope. “Look, here’s your list. Now you need to change your
muggle money into proper gold.”
“What’s ‘muggle’?” Miles was starting to get really confused. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.
“Nonmagic. Not like you or me, we’re wizards.”
“I’m a wizard?”
“You got the letter, didn’t you? Dumbledore, he’s the headmaster, he doesn’t make mistakes. If he say’s
you’re a wizard, there’s no doubt about it.”
“But how did he know how to find me? I was… I was camping out!” Miles remembered at the last second not
to mention running away. The old man looked at him with a knowing smile.
“Them letters have strong magic. They’d find you if you was on the moon. Now look here, if you don’t feel
like ‘camping out’ ‘till September, I’ll put you up for a good price.” He began counting the bricks in the wall, and
having found the right one, poked it once with his wand. Immediately, a tiny hole appeared, expanding to the
size of a doorway. “There, my boy, is Diagon Alley. Gringotts –that’s the bank—is down the street a ways. They’ll
change your money.” It was a narrow, winding street crowded with people and shops, though Miles couldn’t recognize
any of the merchandise. The sight of a brick wall opening into a hidden world was enough to dispel any last doubts
about magic he’d had, and he eagerly stepped through. The doorway started to shrink right away.
“How do I get back?” Miles called through the closing doorway.
“Third brick up, second from the left. Give it a good poke with your wand.” Then the hole resealed and was
now a wall again, with no visible cracks or loose bricks that he could see.
“…But I don’t have a wand…” Remembering the letter, he pulled out the supply list from the envelope. There
it was: 1 wand, along with other expensive looking things. Hoping he had enough money, Miles walked on, looking
for a building that might be a bank.
Gringotts was built of blindingly white stone, and towered over the rest of the Alley. It’s double doors of
bronze and silver were inscribed with some kind of a poem, but Miles was too busy looking at the creature standing
next to them to read it. It was clothed in a red and gold uniform, and it’s clever looking face was almost concealed
beneath a deep hood. At his approach, the creature opened the door with an extraordinarily long hand.
Not human at all.
“Welcome.”
Beyond the double doors was a vast marble hall bustling with activity. A long counter ran along the far
end of the room, and the walls were peppered with doors. More of the strange creatures were leading people
in and out, while behind the counter they counted heavy gold coins and scribbled in ledgers.
“Don’t worry, dear. Goblins are frightfully clever, but they won’t hurt you.” A woman holding a squirming
toddler smiled down at him and patted his shoulder. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Goblins?” There were goblins? The old man at the Leaky Cauldron neglected to mention that.
“Best bankers anyone could ask for. Gringotts is said to be impossible to break into. Good luck now, dear!”
Feeling a bit braver, Miles walked up to a goblin behind the counter. “Excuse me.” His voice came
out as a whisper.
“Speak up please.” The goblin glanced at him over the top of the ledger disapprovingly.
“Excuse me. I was wondering if you could cash a check for me.”
“I’m sure that will be possible. May I see the check in question, Sir?” The goblin looked on in distaste
as he peeled off his shoe and removed the wrinkled paper. “Would you like to open an account with that, Sir?”
“Uh, alright… Oh, and I have these, too!” He slapped his last £20 on the counter next to the check.
“Your name, please?”
“Miles Perry.”
The creature scribbled something in the ledger and, taking both check and banknotes, disappeared behind
one of the many doors. While he waited, Miles watched the pen it had been holding continue to write as if
supported by an invisible hand. It looked incredibly strange and, well, magical.
The goblin reappeared carrying a heavy moneybag, which he dropped on the counter. “Ten Galleons have been
deducted for deposit fees. Here is your key. You must present it to have access to your vault, so it would be
advisable to keep it safe.” Miles took the tiny gold key and slipped into his backpack, thinking he’d have to
buy a chain for it later. “In the future, the monthly child care checks will be deposited automatically into
your account.”
“Wha- what?” Could they do that? “You can do that?”
Leaning over the counter until the two were nose to nose, the goblin said, “I can do anything!” He looked
mildly offended, so Miles grabbed the moneybag and left, blinking his eyes at the bright sunshine. He entered
a cheerful looking ice cream parlor and found a secluded seat in the back, as far away from the door as
possible. He was immensely curious and couldn’t wait to explore the Alley, but he didn’t want anyone to
see him count his money. An entire life of moving from home to home had made him protective of his
few possessions, and he knew to be careful.
There were twenty-five gold, forty-two silver, and seventy-six bronze coins spread out on the table,
all covered with strange writing. Miles stared at it in awe. It was all so much… probably more than he’d
ever had in his life. Was this how much his checks were worth? No wonder the homes took in so many kids!
The thought of his hated caseworker discovering he’d taken his money gave him no little satisfaction,
but he did wonder what would happen when she realized his checks were still going somewhere. Did other
banks know about Gringotts? He wondered as he scooped his coins back into the bag. What would they think
of the goblins?
Miles closed his eyes for a moment. It had been an overwhelming day, and he was so tiered… he’d
explore more tomorrow. What had the man said about the portal? Third brick up, second from the left, poke
it with his wand. Well, he’d have to get one before he could go back, then. Rising from his table, he asked
the man behind the counter where he could get a wand.
“Ollivanders, of course! Best place for buying’ wands!” He offered him a spoonful of liver ice cream,
which Miles obediently pronounced delicious. “Here a little early for supplies, aren’t you? Term doesn’t
start ‘till the first.”
“Oh, well, I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron. So. Ollivanders? Where is it?”
“About five shops down. Do come back soon!”
Ollivanders had the least appealing of the storefronts. It’s display case held a single wand on a faded
purple cushion, but it aroused his curiosity. A wand! The back of his neck tingled with anticipation. The
inside was very dark, and had stacks of long, thin boxes reaching to the ceiling. He was wondering if he should
call out when a thin man appeared behind the desk, seemingly from nowhere. “You’re here for your wand,
are you not?” Swallowing his surprise, Miles nodded and stepped forward. “Wand arm please—yes, that’s
whichever hand you write with, hold it out.” Mr. Ollivander unrolled a tape measure and measured from shoulder
to fingertip, elbow to wrist, floor to fingertip, and around his head. “Let’s see… Yew and dragon heartstring.
Fourteen inches, nice and flexible. Just give it a wave…no.”
He walked around the shop pulling down boxes, and Miles was starting to worry that none of them would
be right. He didn’t really know what Mr.Ollivander was looking for as he handed him wand after wand.
“Maple and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches, pliable--”
“Ash and unicorn hair, nine inches, quite springy --”
“Oak and phoenix feather, twelve inches, Go on—oh good!” A shower of blue sparks fell from its end
and twinkled in the air. Mr. Ollivander started to put it back in its box to wrap it up, but Miles stopped him.
“Could you leave it out, please? I need it to go back.”
“Certainly. That will be seven galleons.” Miles put his bag on the counter.
“Which ones are those?” Mr. Ollivander counted out seven gold coins.
“Gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts.” Peering into his face, the old man studied his odd eyes
with his own pale ones. “Interesting eyes, Mr. Perry, interesting eyes.”
“Thanks. Um…goodbye.”
He left the store and headed back to the portal, feeling the smooth wood against his skin. He felt complete, like
he now had some protection from anything that might ever happen to him. His hand barely trembling, Miles counted
the bricks on the wall. Holding his breath, he lightly touched his wand to the right brick, stepping back as the
archway opened onto his old world.


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Don\'t worry, Nick will return! There\'s yet another character to create, but snape and Hermione WILL get together
eventually. They better, after all the work i\'m doing...
DID WHAT I COULD FOR THE FORMATTING-- NEW UPDATE SOON