When Harry was six, his only friend moved away. Michael Proctor knew what it meant to be Harry's friend. He just didn't care. He knew he couldn't talk to Harry during lunch at school or any other time that would draw his cousin's attention. If they were working together in class, it was okay so long as Dudley wasn't looking. Pretend he was working if Dudley decided to see what they were doing. If Dudley came over during playtime, Mike was to run. Don't get in the way if Dudley started Harry hunting. Mainly, stay away from Dudley and his words and fists. Harry could take care of himself. The teacher wouldn't do anything to stop Dudley, Harry would get into trouble, and Mike would get hurt.
Harry and Mike often worked together since they were the slowest learners in the class. Sometimes they would get bored with practicing writing their numbers or letters, colouring in red, blue, or yellow. Tracing shapes. Half the time, they ended up creating imaginary creatures from the 'connect the dots' worksheets. Mike got in big trouble with his parents over that. Harry had to sit on the other side of the room for a whole week since he was obviously 'a bad influence'.
They were just bored. Harry could count perfectly. He'd been able to do it for a long time. Dragons were just more interesting. They were strong, independent, and could breath fire, which was very important if you needed to defend yourself.
Now Harry was alone. Mike and his mother had moved ... after the fire. Dudley took great pleasure in describing in gory detail how Mike's father died. And how, if he'd not been friends with Harry, it never would have happened. Loudly. Especially if Harry was around. And especially if they were at the park with lots of kids around.
Harry didn't need to hear Dudley's version. He already knew. He dreamt about it. On his birthday. There was fire, smoke, and heat. Screams as Mike's mother pounded on the front door trying to get inside. Sirens from the fire brigade wailed accompanied by weird, familiar laughter. Shivers slid up and down Harry's back at the sound, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Harry just knew this was real and woke up in a sweat. He pulled on his oversized trainers, slid out of his cupboard, and ran down the street in a panic. Mike was in trouble. He was locked in the house with no way out.
Magnolia Crescent was bursting with noise and lights by the time Harry got there. Harry tried pushing his way through the crowd, but no one would let him by. The Bobbies had closed off the area in case the other houses caught and weren't letting anyone past. It took half the day to get the fire under control and by that time, Mike and his mother had long disappeared on their way to emergency.
Harry sat on the kerb, the pavement growing hotter as the day grew longer. His tears had long dried leaving tracks in the ash on his face. No one paid attention to him and Harry was just fine with that. Except for the Cat Lady, Mrs Figg, who decided he needed some water. Harry thanked her and drank it quickly, hoping she'd go away soon.
Mrs Figg, however, sat down with Mr Tibbles - her newest spy - and kept Harry company for the rest of the afternoon. Her tartan slippers were covered in dust, her bathrobe loosely tied over her nightclothes, and her grey hair hanging down her back.
Finally, as evening set in, Uncle Vernon pulled up in his car. "Get in."
Harry climbed in the backseat. "You are a danger to good, decent, 'normal' people, Boy, but we can't get rid of you." Nodding to Mrs Figg, Uncle Vernon pulled away. When they got home, Harry was thrown in his cupboard with no dinner and not allowed out until next morning when he discovered the newest addition to his room. A padlock on the door.
"Eat your breakfast and get to work. The garden needs weeding." Aunt Petunia slammed a piece of burnt toast and a glass of water on the table as Harry sat down. He ate quickly hoping to avoid his cousin who'd be coming down any minute and slipped out the back door. Mr Tibbles was lying underneath the tree with one eye on Harry as he knelt down in the dirt. "Damn cat." A meow was his only answer.
An hour later, Dudley waddled into the backyard with his friend Piers Polkiss and towered over Harry.
"What do you want?" Harry yanked yet another shoot from the ground and tossed it in Dudley's general direction.
"You better watch how you talk to me, Freak, or I'll tell mum."
"Go away, Dudley." Harry growled.
Dudley pushed Harry down and started kicking him. "Did you like my present, Freak?" Dudley laughed and kicked Harry harder. "Fairy Harry! Fairy Harry! Lost his little boyfriend!" Harry curled into a ball to try to lesson the damage. At that point, Piers jumped in, not wanting Dudley to have all the fun.
The back door slammed open to a furious Aunt Petunia. "Boy! Stop lying about and get back to work. What did that nasty boy do to you, Duddikins? Show mummy where it hurts."
Harry uncurled onto his hands and knees breathing hard. Dudley smirked over his shoulder and Piers kicked him one more time. In the face. Harry yelped.
"Now, you worthless child. You'll have that finished before lunch or have your uncle to answer to." Aunt Petunia tugged the boys towards the kitchen. "Come along, Piers. You don't want to associate with a delinquent like him. Look what happened to the Proctor boy."
Harry hid behind his hair and got back to work. Mr Tibbles lolled in the freshly overturned dirt. It was going to be a long year.