The weather in London has a mind of its own, much like a first-year Gryffindor sorting themselves into the wrong house. One moment the sun shines as bright as a golden snitch, and the next, a dreary drizzle begins to fall, mixing with the dust to create a rather unique, muggle-like scent.
In the southwestern corner of London, in Surrey, sits an ancient-looking primary school, St. George's Primary.
Against the inner wall, three grubby-faced older boys leaned lazily, their expressions a stark contrast to the youthful, vibrant energy of the school grounds. They looked as though they'd just been through a double potions class with Professor Snape.
Just then, a small, bespectacled boy with a shocking black-rimmed pair of spectacles, a ridiculously oversized school uniform, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead hurried past them, clutching a loaf of bread.
Two of the boys exchanged a glance, and the tallest one quickly followed.
He slung an arm around the "little chap's" shoulder, his voice as smooth as a charm, saying, "Well, look what we have here, if it isn't our very own Mr. Kite!"
"You still owe me 50 pence from last week. When are you planning to pay up?"
The small boy was clearly unaccustomed to such a direct confrontation. He lowered his head, not daring to look at them, and meekly tried to argue, "I'm sorry, sir, but you've mistaken me for someone else. My name isn't Kite."
He barely got the words out before a slap landed on his face, knocking his spectacles askew and messing up his hair.
The tall boy sneered, "Are you suggesting my eyes are not what they should be? If I say you are Kite, then Kite you are."
The commotion drew the attention of the other children nearby. The two remaining boys who had been lounging against the wall rose to action. One moved to shoo away the onlookers while the other kept watch. The tall one then began to drag the small boy toward a more secluded spot in the school grounds.
Their actions were smooth and practiced, a clear sign that this wasn't their first time engaging in such unpleasantries.
Every school, even a muggle one like St. George's, has its share of bullies. And these three were a prime example. The other children, frightened by the display, scattered in all directions.
"Hand it over!" the short, plump boy snatched the loaf of bread from the smaller boy's hand. "I haven't had breakfast yet. Let's see what this is like... Pfft! This wretched bread is as hard as a stone! Who would ever want to eat this rubbish?"
Even with all his effort, he only managed to leave a tiny indent on the bread, hurting his own cheek in the process.
"That's my brother's favourite baguette!" the small boy exclaimed, quickly picking up the rejected bread and clutching it to his chest, terrified they would take it again. He looked at the slight mark on the loaf and said in a small, tearful voice, "Oh, no. Dudley will be furious if he finds out someone else has touched his food."
The small boy's frantic behaviour about the bread didn't seem to register with the trio. After all, he hadn't reacted at all when he was hit just moments before.
The short, plump boy scoffed, "What's your brother to us? We're the Hobbit Trio of St. George's! No one dares cross us!"
"Yes, yes, it's your brother's bread," the tall boy said, his eyes glinting. He leaned down and patted the small boy's cheek with a deceptively 'kind' expression. "So your brother, Moses, also owes us 50 pence. Now, you two brothers together owe us one whole pound."
"My brother isn't named Moses, and I'm not named Kite!" the small boy shivered with fear but still tried to argue.
He knew that if he gave in now, something far worse would happen.
"Didn't you hear me just now?" the tall boy's kind facade vanished. His face contorted with anger. "Now, why don't you tell me what your name is?"
The transformation was so quick it would have made a Mandrake's scream sound soothing.
"Harry... Harry Potter!"
Slap! Another blow landed on Harry's face.
The tall boy cursed, "Didn't you understand me? Your name is Kite. You and your brother owe us one pound."
The tall boy insisted on changing the name because if the boy agreed, they could claim to the teachers that they simply had the wrong person. They were looking for 'Kite' to collect a debt, not extorting money from Harry. The money, of course, would have been given to them by Harry of his own free will.
However, upon hearing the small boy's name, the third member of the trio, who had been silent, went pale and quickly stopped the tall boy. "Jim, stop it! He said his name is Harry Potter."
"So what?" Jim asked, thoroughly confused by his friend's reaction.
"We need to leave, now!" the third boy, whose name was Harvey, grabbed the others, urging them to run.
The plump boy, sensing the tension, asked, "What do his parents do?" He thought they might have run afoul of someone important, like a policeman or a dangerous hooligan, and they were always afraid of those sorts of people.
"I heard his parents died in a car crash," Harvey blurted out, then insisted again, "This is not the time to be talking about that. Let's go!"
Hearing this, the plump boy relaxed, and Jim said in an exasperated tone, "Then why are you so scared?" He couldn't understand why his friend was being so jumpy. They were about to be one pound richer!
Harvey was so frustrated with his two dim-witted companions he could have screamed. "His brother is Dudley..."
"Dudley? Which Dudley?" Jim was still completely lost.
"How many Dudley's are there at St. George's? Of course, it's that one... Dudley Dursley!"
Harvey raised his voice for emphasis, but when he said the last name, he lowered it to a whisper, despairing that his friends still didn't get it.
"Who's that?" the plump boy asked, annoyed at his friend's riddles. Why couldn't he just spit it out?
Jim, at least, had a brain. He turned to Harry and said, "Hey, Potter, how old is your brother?"
"He's... he's in the same year as me. Fourth grade," Harry, being an honest boy, answered truthfully.
"What's so scary about a fourth-grader?" Jim was now completely at ease. He couldn't fathom his friend's strange behaviour. "We're graduating this year! What are you so worried about, Harvey?"
"Well, you must have heard this name before..."
Gathering his courage, Harvey made his friends lean in close, lowering his voice as if he were revealing a great secret. In a slow, hushed whisper, he uttered a single name:
"Dudley the Food-Hoarder!"
His words were like a forbidden spell, causing the breath of all those who heard them, including Harry, to catch in their throats.