The second part. I'm a little amused that some of you put this own alert but didn't bother to review. No, I'm not angry, just amused. (which is bad since I act all weird when I'm amused. Like in biology class…nevermind.)

Warning: a bit angsty but no one dies or something horrible like that

Disclaimer: Let's see…fame? None. Money? None! Utter creative genius? NONE! No, I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry

"Bravery is the choice that something else is more important than fear"

Harry Potter, not more than five at that time, looked up timidly as his big, fat cousin poked him rather painfully.

Dudley had been getting a lot meaner now, ever since he realized he could get away with it. The blond boy, ridiculously porky-looking, had just gotten back from a trip to the shopping mall with his parents. (Harry, of course, had been left at Mrs. Figg's house, where he'd been forced to memorize the names of every single cat, dead or alive.)

Dudley never missed an opportunity to taunt Harry about what he was missing.

"Don't' you wish you came with us, Harry?" Dudley sniggered, popping a red-flavored sweet into his mouth. "I saw all sorts of neat stuff."

"Uncle Vernon won't let me come," Harry said silently, looking at the ground at his feet. He did not want to see Dudley's gloating face anymore than necessary. "He says I'd ruin everything."

"That's too bad," His cousin said, than laughed at his pathetic attempt at sarcasm. "Your life is misera- misa-…bad."

"I know," Harry nodded glumly. He stared enviously at the brightly-colored candies Dudley was clutching.

"That's what you get, Mum says, for being a freak." Dudley said callously. "'Snot your fault really, your parents were freaks too. D'you think they'd been part of the circus before they killed themselves?"

"They did not kill themselves!" Harry said forcefully, hands balling into fists.

"Dad says they were in a car accident so they're to blame…" Dudley drawled, feeling very well-informed. "You should know, you've got that dumb scar to show for it!"

Harry's hands automatically went to his lightning-shaped scar. Aunt Petunia always hated that scar, for some unknown reason, and the more she glared at it, the more conscious he felt.

"It was an accident!" Harry protested, hands clamped on his forehead.

"Whatever," Dudley gobbled down a chocolate bar. "If they'd been alive and normal, I think you'd be eating same as me right now. Though, of course, a smaller piece, since your parents wouldn't be as rich as mine."

"Who says?!" Harry growled. The piece of toffee Dudley ha been unwrapping popped out of the wrapper and bopped the fat boy hard on the forehead.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?!" Dudley turned on him.

"I didn't do anything!" But he knew he did. He could feel it, when he was angry or afraid, but he had no control.

"Shut up, you liar!" Dudley shouted, attracting the attention of a nosy neighbor. Kid fights were always a good reason to complain. "I was gonna give some of my candy but you just couldn't wait, could you! I'll teach you!"

He stomped into the house.

Harry jumped up and looked for a place to hide. He wasn't stupid enough to fight with Dudley, who was by all means stronger than him.

Where-? His spirits sank. Vernon had fertilized his favorite hiding spot just yesterday. Harry really didn't want to bury himself in manure.

Dudley came out, carrying something. He had been amazingly fast.

Harry ran out of the yard and down the block, glancing back to see if Dudley was following.

He was, and he was swinging a mighty broadsword. The one made of hard plastic and decorated by fancy markings and fake glittery stones. It looked very pretty from afar, but Harry had no desire to see it up close.

"You can't run forever, cousin," Dudley laughed as he jogged as fast as his piggy egs could allow.

Harry, although thankfully speedy, was awfully clumsy. He didn't see the crack on the pavement. He tripped…and fell like a ragdoll. He blinked dazedly a he sat up, feeling thoroughly bruised.

Dudley was standing over him and holding the sword to Harry's throat.

"Great Dudley conquers Harry Potter," He smiled triumphantly and pushed the sword harder.

Harry choked, and struggled frantically. He grabbed hold of the sword (he could see the cheap gold-colored dragon with its green eyes quite clearly now) and tried to push it away.

Dudley was stronger.

It might've been fatal if the nosy neighbor hadn't intervened. Harry didn't think he'd ever be grateful for Mrs. Figg's existence until that moment.

She'd grabbed the sword from Dudley, promptly broke it into two (my, what strength) and began shouted and insulted and basically told off Dudley until he was reduced to a jellylike mass of tears.

Harry rubbed his throat and fixed his glasses, cold dread stabbing at his heart.

Mrs. Figg marched them back home and began shouting another torrent of abuse at Petunia Dursley as well about 'ill-mannered criminal bullies!' and 'dangerous toys'.

Needless to say, Harry was locked up in his cupboard that night, without any dinner. It was he who was to blame for Dudley's actions. It was he who provoked, he who harmed, he who was a criminal.

But Harry didn't care for the accusations. All he could think about was the hard plastic pressing on his throat and the cold, cruel eyes of that dragon. It was an awful feeling…to be afraid.

He had never been afraid before.

Dragons…a chill went down his spine. From that moment, he would always associate fear with dragons.

Over the next few days, Harry Potter would forget about this incident, perhaps helped by little meddling and a forgetting charm by the co-conspirators, Figg and Dumbledore.

After all, he would help smuggle an illegal baby Ridgeback out of England. He would fight a ferocious Horntail hell-bent on incinerating him before he reached her eggs.

He would meet an awful, obnoxious boy with a Dragon name…and handle him quite well.

But, since memories were trifle things, the incident would always remain deep inside his mind, manifesting itself at the oddest moments.

Before a quidditch match, he would dream of dragons…and wake up sweating.

End.

This is a little more angsty than the previous chapter. Primarily because I don't owe anything to SylvanD this time round.

Harry did not have a very happy childhood, poor guy.