A small shadow darted down the alley, followed by a rampage of children, a corpulent boy at the head of the mob.
"Get the freak!" the leader, Dudley, shouted, as the distance between the mob and the lone child increased. "Get him!"
Harry Potter turned the corner and crawled behind a dumpster, breathing heavily. He was desperate. This horrible game had been going on for months now. Harry Hunting, Dudley called it. Harry had to run for his life or get beaten by Uncle Vernon and Dudley.
"Someone help me!" Harry whispered under his breath. "Someone, anyone? I wish I was normal." The malnourished eight-year-old sighed in defeat, dreading the inevitable beating that would come at home. No matter what he did, Uncle Vernon would beat him. One time, in an effort to please his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, Harry studied hard and was top of the class for one test. He got a beating for showing up Dudley. When Harry got the lowest grade, he was punished for being a dunce, like his good-for-nothing parents. Harry would rather have had good-for-nothing parents than his Aunt and Uncle.
From then on, Harry resolved to be the best he could be, and never sink to the level of the Dursleys. He studied all he could in the school library, and became fast friends with the librarian. He easily knew as much as those two standards above him, but chose not to show his intelligence for fear of a beating.
Deep within Harry, the young wizard's magical core sensed his distress and strained to break the first of seven bindings on it. Lost in thought, Harry didn't notice the nimbus of energy surrounding him, nor the gradual shifting of his striking features.
Mesmerizing emerald eyes faded into a dull gray. A jet black mop shortened into sleek light brown hair.
Approaching voices disrupted Harry's musings. "There he is!" Harry tensed in dreadful anticipation as a meaty hand dragged him out from behind the dumpster. Dudley's at face stared down into his disappointedly. "Oh. This isn't the freak. Who are you?"
Harry was stunned. Wasn't he the freak they were looking for? Oh well, might as well go with this game and hope for no beating. "I'm Hadrian Bellevue, and you?" Harry chose a name he wished he had. A name that Aunt Petunia wouldn't sniff at because it was "too plain" and "freakish".
"Oh lookee here, it's a teacher's pet!" Dudley crowed. "Who needs manners? Is it 'cause your mummy said to use them?" Dudley's band of kids laughed sycophantically.
Given the chance to show off his superior intelligence, Harry took it eagerly. Adopting a posh and cultured accent, he sneered, "My mother happens to be dead, you blithering ignoramus! I thank you for your consideration towards my feelings. Good Day!" Harry flounced away, buoyed by Dudley's dumbstruck face as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of the sentence.
An older toady of Dudley's whispered the gist of Harry's remark in Dudley's ear. The corpulent boy swelled in anger, his face reddening just as his father's did. He started to charge towards Harry's retreating back. Just as Harry spun around to face Dudley, an older voice interrupted the confrontation.
"What's this, then? Break it up, boys!" They all turned around to face an older girl, maybe about ten, with bright blue hair. She turned to face Harry. Are they picking on you, then?" She turned back to Dudley's crowd. "Get out, all of you! Leave!" the girl screamed. The bullies scattered like dust in the wind. "Are you all right?"
Harry nodded stiffly. She was only trying to help, but he kept his newly formed mask of aloofness and stoicism in place. The girl sighed, "Fine. Be that way."
Out of nowhere, her hair shifted from a vibrant blue to a melancholy blue-gray. Harry's eyes almost popped out of her head. She saw his reaction and winced. "Did my hair change again? Bugger. Oh well. Hi! I'm Tonks!"