J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Chapter Two

Mark sat on his bed, staring moodily out the window to the darkening alley below. He was sitting and thinking, which was something he did fairly often, though not always before he acted. This, he reflected, was what had gotten him beaten up in the first place.

It had been two days since he had been walking on Barberry Lane, since he had seen Dudley Dursley and his gang coming toward him. Two days since he had said something to them that had undoubtedly seemed witty at the time. Two days since he had found himself knocked to the floor, bruised, battered, bleeding, and terrified. Two days since Harry Potter, of all people, had helped him up, asked if he was fine, and half walked, half carried him home.

It was also two days since he had left the house.

It was not so much the physical pain which had shocked him into retreating into his house for so long. That he could handle; the time he had stepped on a wasp nest, for instance, had been if anything worse. What had him moping in his room was the sudden awareness of evil in the world, of people who would beat a ten-year-old nearly unconscious on almost no provocation.

"Penny for your thoughts," came David's voice from the bed opposite. Mark rolled his eyes at the window. He usually enjoyed that his parents made him share a room with his brother even though there was another bedroom across the hall ("To learn the art of sharing," his father said). The past two days, however, were not usual, and his brother's overconcern was starting to get to him. He went on the offensive instead.

"Why do you keep acting like this is all your fault?" he asked, turning to look David in the eye.

David flinched and dropped his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Mark turned back to the window, satisfied. He focused on the two figures turning into the alley as his brother suddenly spoke. "When I was in primary school," he began, but Mark was not listening.

"Check this out," he said, pointing into the alley as David joined him at the window.

Dudley Dursley was walking through the alley, accompanied by none other than Harry Potter. They seemed to be having some kind of argument, and their voices were rising, though Mark could not make what they were saying.

Mark was completely unprepared for what happened next. Harry Potter was suddenly pointing what looked like a weapon at Dudley, and the bigger boy was backing away in fear. "He's not going to..." David began, as Mark covered his mouth in horror. He had never wanted this.

Then suddenly Mark was left wondering if this was just a very bizarre dream, because what was now happening certainly didn't seem possible. Two large clouds of thick fog were drifting into the alleyway from either direction, converging on the boys below and enveloping them completely.

Mark looked at David, perplexed, to find David staring back at him just as confusedly. He turned back to the window, and saw a light suddenly flare inside the cloud, harsh against the haze.

He gasped.

Two enormous figures were now visible through the fog, and it was instantly obvious that they had caused it. Entirely black and swathed in hooded cloaks, far too tall to be human, they turned the scene from a dream to a nightmare. One of the- the things was bending over Dudley Dursley, who was lying curled on the alley floor; the other was approaching Harry Potter, who was getting to his feet, facing it armed only with what appeared to be a powerful flashlight. He sat and stared, frightened beyond words, as the figure reached out from beneath its cloak and grabbed for Harry's throat.

He had despaired of any hope for the boys' lives - and was starting to fear for his own - when Harry waved what he now realized was no flashlight. A giant silver shape emerged from whatever it was Harry was holding and chased the monster attacking him from the alley.

Then Harry spun around and ran at the second creature, apparently directing the thing he had conjured, which Mark now realized was a large stag that seemed to be made of silver light, to gallop down the alley and charge the remaining creature. The creature flew out of sight, and Mark noticed that the clouds of fog had vanished too. The stag kept going until it vanished at the end of the alley, and the area grew quiet, leaving the two brothers sitting on the bed, watching at the window, both utterly shocked.

Dudley Dursley was still lying on the ground, and somehow, though just a few minutes ago Mark had thought him evil, a bully, someone who should be locked away, all he now felt toward him was pity.