Time for Harry
Hunting
Warning, things will be going violent later.
Piers Polkiss, a boy who could be unfavourably compared to a rat, snorted at seeing Harry sitting on a swing in the public park. He slapped the arm of his companion.
"The freak has come back, Gordon!"
The other young thug smiled widely, "Yeah, watch him, I'll get the others." And he bolted away, looking for the rest of Dudley's gang.
In a short while, they could all enjoy their favourite pastime. Harry Hunting!
The fourteen years old wizard brooded, despite the bright day. He had a lot to brood about. To be outraged at. To be angry about.
In short, Harry Potter had had a rotten year at Hogwarts, even worse than usual.
The God-Damned TriWizard Tournament has been a nightmare since the very beginning. He had dared to think that for once, with all the attention on the tournament, he would be left alone.
Stupid! Since when Halloween left him alone?
Every year. Every damned year! His troubles always began in Halloween. The stupid troll that had almost killed him, Hermione and Ron. The dim-witted creature had only been the herald of a year that had ended with him becoming a killer. In self-defense and accidentally, true, but no child should have to hear the screams of a man burning to death. Even three years later, he heard those screams in his nightmares.
Not so much this year, though... he had so much worse nightmares this year.
Second year, the stinking Chamber of Secrets. Beginning with that hateful cat being petrified, becoming an outcast because he happened to be bilingual. As if being able to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation with a snake was a sign of evil. But the worst part of the year had not being fighting for his life against a shade of Voldemort and a stupidly gigantic snake that could kill him just by looking at him wrong.
No. The worst part was his best friend… no. Now he realized Hermione was not his best friend. She was actually his only friend... He sneered. For all Magical Britain was more fickle than a weather vane in a storm, praising him as a savior one minute and denouncing him as a future Dark Lord the next. He should have learned the lesson back in Second Year...
The next Halloween had been weird. Believing he was the target of a mass murderer who could strike him down, only to find out later that the man was actually, not only innocent, but family. And then the chance to be free of this prison for good had been cruelty ripped from his hands at the last moment.
Harry's fists closed as if he was ready to strike back at the world. He kept on looking down to the ground, as if force of will alone could make it explode.
He forced himself to relax. But he couldn't let go of his anger. He felt the handle of his wand, hidden in his pocket. He breathed deeply.
The events of Fourth Year replayed themselves in his mind. If he had the chance, he would get a brick and show the Goblet of Fire just what he thought of it.
Halloween again. The blasted cup spat out his name, starting the worst year of his life. Accused of cheating, ostracized by the whole school. Including of course, the staff. He had never been so alone in his life. Hermione had been the only friend he had.
Everybody else had denounced him as a cheater. Until, of course, he had prevailed over the dragon. Then it was all smiles and congratulations. Hypocrites.
Bah! They could put those fake smiles where the monkey put his nut. If he had responded with his own smiles it was simply as a defense mechanism. Not the time to say what he really wanted to say.
Again, he realized his fists had closed. With an effort, he willed his fingers to relax. He breathed deeply to calm himself.
Then he remembered the second task. Forced to rescue the one who had betrayed him.
Unknowing of the gang gathering, Harry kept on brooding.
Rescuing the traitor had been humiliating. Especially once the Rumour Mill had began to spin. Now many students though he and Ron were a couple. As if!
Yes, he would get that brick and put it to good use.
His breathing was becoming ragged, as if he had run a mile. But no. He was not tired. He forced himself to breathe.
"There he is." Dudley Dursley smiled, he looked at his accomplices, "He's been having nightmares. About some guy called Cedric."
The others, far enough to be sure their victim couldn't hear them, snickered, "What? His boyfriend?"
"Sure! Why not?" Dudley nodded with a smirk.
In the meanwhile, Harry had worked himself into rage.
At his rotten luck, at the world, at the pure injustice of his life. Everything.
The fickleness of those who should know better. The undeserved reputation of a hooligans, while the true vandals were spoiled rotten by their families, the murdering psycho who would keep in trying to kill him until he succeeded, the prison he was shoved back each summer. The constant abuse.
Two minutes later, he would have calmed himself down to manageable levels.
He had not two minutes.
Dudley and his gang chose that precise moment to pick on him. Trusting that their favourite victim was always weak, always.
Two minutes.
Dudley had been laughing when they announced their presence to the lonely boy they had bullied freely for over ten years. "Hey, Harry! Guess what time is it! It's time for Harry Hunting!"
Harry turned around; surprised, yes. But there was something strange in his eyes... Behind the round, broken frames of his eyeglasses, Harry´s eyes were not wide in terror, but narrowed dangerously. "No, Dudley." He said, with a gravelly voice.
"No what? It is time for you to run! When I say its time for Harry Hunting, its time for Harry Hunting!" He looked at his accomplices, safe in the knowledge that five versus one were good odds.
Then, Harry bolted away. The five teenagers pursued him, but the lone boy was very quick. He managed to stay barely on sight of the group, who ran after him, laughing and whooping. Enjoying the chase.
Potter led them to the last piece of natural forest in the Little Whinging area. And once inside it, he kept on running. Gaining some small distance on the group. Every-time they were sure they had him, Harry managed to run just a little bit faster. He zigzagged between the trees and bushes as if he had spent his whole life there.
"Where is he?" Dudley panted. Leaning on his knees, trying to recover from the run.
"I don´t know." Piers looked around, so intent on finding Harry he didn't realise he was very far away from the streets of Little Whinging.
Gordon pointed at some bushes at the other side of a clearing. "There's something moving there."
They surrounded the bush, approaching as silently as they could, trying not to snicker and alert their prey.
Communicating with gestures, the gang decided to have Piers make noise to scare Harry into trying to flee, while the others caught him and hold him for Dudley to pummel him into submission.
A good plan.
One they had enacted more than a few times in previous years.
However, it was a plan that hung on a minuscule, but crucial detail.
Having a scared prey.
Any other possibility was inconceivable.
Meanwhile, Harry hid on the high branches of a tree.
Watching, waiting.
He smiled crookedly. He felt elated at finally having an outlet for his anger. He weighted the rock he had picked up before climbing the tree.
Fifteen minutes later, the gang's favourite pastime had ceased to be fun.
Well… there was somebody having fun, but it was not them.
They limped blindly through the forest, trying to escape their tormentor.
There were a couple broken bones already. An arm and a hand useless.
And every time they stopped to rest, stones would hit them, with enough force to break skin or bone.
This time, the stone hit Gordon on the shin, breaking the bone. He could flee no longer. A quick exchange of looks, and the others decided to leave him behind. Gordon screamed his lungs off, begging and threatening the others to come back and help him.
Useless.
They left him where he had fallen, hoping Potter would be delayed for long enough to escape from this unending forest.
Harry Potter was having fun. It was the best day he could remember in a long time.
Yes, it was time for "Harry, Hunting."