Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

August 6th, 1995 – Little Whinging, Surrey

It had been a week since Harry's birthday. Harry had not bothered to send letters of thanks to Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley for their small gifts. They didn't want him using Hedwig for deliveries, and he didn't want to dignify their isolation of him with a response.

So Harry had settled back into his daily routine and resigned himself to having to stay at Privet Drive. His spell repertoire had grown to two small but densely-packed notebooks, which he practiced every day using his stick. It was hardly like the real thing, but it was better than nothing and Harry was pleased with how well his knowledge was progressing.

He was likewise pleased with his physical fitness. In the past four weeks he had grown an inch and put on several pounds of muscle. He was by no means an imposing figure, but his daily running regimen had given him a taut look that he thought looked good.

Currently he was halfway through his evening four-mile run and day dreaming about running his hands through long red locks of hair. He never noticed the group of people who stepped out of the alley near Mrs. Figg's house just after he passed by.

WHAM!

Harry's vision went white for a full second and he fell to the ground, skidding five feet on the asphalt before he came to a stop. A blinding pain in the back of his head was accompanied by multicolored spots dancing before his eyes. He put his hand to the back of his head and it came away wet with blood.

Harry looked up from his position on the ground, trying to make sense of his surroundings and collect his thoughts. There was a fist-sized rock lying next to him in the road. Then he heard someone speak, and it all became clear.

"Not so tough now, are you freak?"

A few snorts accompanied Dudley's voice as he looked down upon the bleeding form of his cousin. Piers, Malcolm, and Duncan were arrayed around Big D and smiling menacingly. Dudley was caressing his Smeltings Stick and smirking at Harry.

Bastard hit me in the head with a rock, thought Harry dazedly. I'm going to have to use magic to get out of this one.

"You thought you could get away with anything now, huh, freak?"

Thinking back on it, Harry realized that Dudley had taken his humiliation with Dobby and the uniform fiasco really well. Too well. His mother had probably made him promise to stay far away from Harry and his unnaturalness, but Dudley just didn't have the discipline to restrain himself when he wanted something. And he wanted his revenge. Badly.

Dudley apparently didn't notice that Harry had his wand tied to his arm, or Harry was sure he'd already have been relieved of it. Surreptitiously slipping it out of the shoelace "holster," he backed a foot further away from Dudley's looming mass and then leveled the wand right at Dudley's chest. Dudley paled noticeably but stood his ground.

Piers burst out laughing. "Look at 'im. What'cha goin' ta do with a ruddy stick, Potter?"

But Harry ignored him and looked right in Dudley's eyes. His vision had now cleared considerably, but he had a pounding headache and Harry thought he would probably need medical attention for his bleeding head.

"I know I can get away with anything now, Dudley. Do you have any idea what I can do to you? Oink, oink."

A flash of fear showed in Dudley's eyes as he remembered the pig's tail that Hagrid had given him in that terrible hut on the sea. But he was with his best mates now, and Big D had an image to maintain.

"You don't have the guts. They'll kick you out of that school, and then dad'll kick you out of the house." Dudley sneered at Harry.

Harry didn't blink. He just continued to stare deep into Dudley's eyes.

"Try me."

Before Dudley could decide whether to test Harry's mettle, the decision was taken out of his hands. It seemed that Dudley's attempts at revenge against Harry were doomed to be interrupted by magical forces beyond his control.

Harry was the first to notice that an unnatural chill had suddenly descended upon Little Whinging. The others noticed soon after, and suddenly discovered in themselves an overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here.

"What the…hell…" whimpered Piers. "Let's get outta here."

Malcolm, Duncan, and Piers each bolted away from the scene, heading toward their respective homes. Dudley was rooted to the spot, a look of intense fear on his face. Harry had just begun to hear his mum's voice, crying out for him to be spared, and was looking quickly around the street. So far he could not locate the danger. He picked himself off the ground and raised his wand, knowing he was about to get more practice with the patronus charm.

"What…what are you doing? Stop that! Make it stop!" Dudley whined.

"I'll hit you! I swear I will!" Dudley's voice was shrill with fear, and he was brandishing his walking stick like a weapon, shaking it in Harry's direction.

"Shut the hell up, Dudley." Harry hissed. "I'm not doing this. I'm trying to get us out of here alive."

"You are too…I know you are...please, I'll stop trying to hurt you." Dudley was practically begging now. Harry wondered briefly what terrible memories were running through the fat bully's mind.

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