The Boy of No. Four Privet Drive was six years old. He was also trying to have an interesting debate while simultaneously attempting to avoid the fists of the other side. He was quickly failing at both. "Bet you wish you had a Guardian Angel now." Piers Polkiss, one of the Boy's tormenters, hissed. "I'm telling you, Piers," Dudley whinged, he hasn't got a Guardian Angel. Freaks don't get 'em." Dudley was the Boy's cousin and, like many things in life, would be sort of alright if he wasn't so awful. "What do we get then?" the Boy retorted, Guardian Demons?" As he ducked a punch he saw Denis and Gordan nodding but Dudley shook his head, "No," he insisted, "You don't get anything!"
Later, when the Boy was bitterly nursing his bruises and his pride he thought back on the conversation. Guardian Demons and not having anything were almost the same thing. The only difference was that you could summon a demon if you needed help. That made them a good deal better than Guardian Angels anyway. Far less unpredictable that way.
The next day the boy stole some of Dudley's chalk.