Cycling

I'm riding my bike. Summer holidays. I'm free, for a few months at least.

Up Pine Avenue. Hedgerow Street is busy; I shift gears and turn left on to Privet Drive.

Just around the corner past the first house, and a kid runs in front of me. I slow down, to give him time to see me and get out of the way.

He doesn't. I squeeze the brakes, hard.

Too hard. Over the handlebars, or that's what it feels like, wishing I had remembered my Dad telling me never to trust a kid to have sense, hitting the pavement just in time to see a blonde woman rushing out of the house.

I'm all right - I've skinned my knee - I'll be able to ride home - my shoulder too, I think - or walk, at worst - my wrist and hand hurt too, although I can't see anything wrong with them, except scrapes.

"Ickle Dudleykins, are you all right?" The woman runs toward to boy who was in front of me. She must be his mother - there's a family resemblance, but she isn't as fat.

"Excuse me?"

She ignores me. "Dinky Duddydums?"

"Excuse me?"

She notices me, finally.

"Could I have something to put on my knee?" It's bleeding by now.

"Did you run my Sweetums down?"

I can't speak from shock for a few seconds - the child isn't hurt at all, and I am - and by the time I have my voice back, she's fussing over him again.

"Don't worry popkin, Mummy's here -"

I feel my wrist. Nothing's bleeding except my knee, but I don't know if I'll be able to ride home with my arm like this, it hurts...

"Do you want this?"

"What?" Another boy is behind me, about the same age as the first one, four or so. He has black hair, though, and is holding out a bandage.

"Do you want this? You're bleeding."

"Yes, thanks." I look at him as I begin to put it on my knee. Short, but most children are. Messy black hair. Glasses held together with Sellotape and bright green eyes. A scar like a lightning bolt on his forehead. His clothes are too large for him; they look like they'd fit the other boy, but this one is too thin.

"My name's Harry Potter. That's my aunt. She isn't nice. What's your name?"

"Elisa Kent. Do you live with your aunt?"

Harry nodded.

"Harry! Inside!" His aunt. She runs over to me. Harry backs away. "I'm sorry if my nephew was bothering you. He's slightly insane."

"He wasn't bothering me. He didn't seem insane."

"Oh, they never do. Weren't you leaving?"

I make a show of standing up painfully. Harry is behind his aunt. He smiles at me and runs inside.

Suddenly, my wrist and shoulder don't hurt, and my knee isn't bleeding, even under the bandage. What happened?

"Yes, I was. Goodbye." I mount my bike, and ride in the other direction, checking that Harry's cousin isn't anywhere near. What happened to my knee? And wrist, and shoulder...