Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Chapter 1: The Neighbourhood Lunatic

Mark Evans stepped into the play park, ready to run at any moment. Dudley Dursley's gang was usually spray-painting rude words on the sides of buildings at this time of the evening, but Mark knew too well the price of being careless.

A few kids were playing on the slide and there were a couple of girls skipping rope, but Dursley and his thugs were nowhere to be seen. Mark relaxed slightly.

Then he saw the young man sitting on the only intact swing, trailing his trainers in the sand. Mark shaded his eyes from the sunset.

There was something unaccountably odd about this stranger. He was dressed in a perfectly normal T-shirt and jeans, he wasn't talking to himself or acting strangely, he wasn't even looking at anyone, just at the circles he was tracing in the sand. And yet, as Mark came closer, he saw at once that this young man did not belong in this place. The boy's attitude was listless, but his lean, wiry body exuded a languid power. Mark couldn't help quivering.

As though he had heard Mark shiver, the boy looked up sharply and Mark recognized him.

"Harry? Harry Potter?"

The boy's gaze was cold and intense. Mark almost thought he'd been wrong--after all, it had been a few years since he had last seen Harry Potter. But then a breeze blew the jet-black fringe off the strange boy's forehead, revealing the lightning bolt-shaped scar above the boy's right eyebrow.

"Hi Harry. It's--it's--" Beneath that cold gaze, Mark couldn't remember his own name, and had to wait until the terrifying look cleared and Harry recognized him.

"Mark Evans? Wow, you've really grown."

Mark gave a nervous laugh. "You too." He estimated that Harry had to be six feet tall. "How've you been?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm surviving."

His green eyes were clear and bright, but rimmed with red. Had he been crying?

Mark looked away quickly, and so he missed seeing Harry unobtrusively slide his wand back into his sleeve.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, "I'm a bit out of it, that's all. I recently lost someone very close to me."

"Oh," was Mark could think to say.

He knew it wasn't any of the Dursleys; Harry wouldn't shed a tear over them. It must be someone from Harry's boarding school. Mark's mother had heard that Harry went to some institution for insane juvenile delinquents, and had expressly forbidden her son from speaking to "that lunatic boy" during the summer. But Mark had always accorded Harry some grudging respect for being the only kid fast enough to outrun Dudley Dursley's gang.

Now, though, he wondered how Dudley had ever had the courage to fight this clearly powerful young man. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.

Harry's smile was very sad. "Thank you."

"Well... er... you back for the summer then?"

"No," Harry said--his tone implying, "Thank God"--"no, I'm just visiting. I've actually decided to move out."

"Really? Is your cousin moving out too?"

Harry detected the eagerness in Mark's voice. "No, why do-"

Then Harry's keen eyes spied the yellow bruises on Mark's face and the scuffs on his knees and shins. He frowned. "Is Dudley still bothering you?"

Mark shrugged evasively and said, "Well, sometimes." Harry had escaped all this, it wasn't fair to drag him back in. "It's... it's OK."

"Never say that," Harry said sharply. "What they do is not OK."

He seemed to be thinking. "Next time Dudley wants to fight, tell him..."

He began to laugh, mirthlessly. Mark shrank back a little, wondering if his mother had been right about Harry after all.

Harry said, "Tell him you just got accepted to Hogwarts."

"To what?" Mark thought he had misheard.

"Hogwarts. But tell him you haven't decided if you'll go yet, because you think you might just stay here and practice in the neighbourhood."

"Practice what?" Mark wanted to know, but Harry was getting up.

"Dudley will understand. It's getting late, I'd better be going. People to see, you know."

Once again, his eyes glimmered in the fading light.

"Good luck to you, Mark," Harry said, and he turned and walked away.

Something compelled Mark to call after him quickly, "Take care of yourself, Harry!"

Harry paused and glanced back. "See you around sometime," he replied quietly.

Then his eyes travelled over Mark's shoulder and widened in alarm.

Mark pivoted and saw a man and woman striding purposefully down the street. He couldn't see what was so shocking about them, besides their rather outlandish outfits. But before he could look at them properly, he spotted Dudley Dursley nonchalantly turning the corner just after them, trying to hide a can of spraypaint in his jacket (with no success; once Dudley was crammed into a garment, there wasn't room in there for anything else).

"Will that 'Hogwarts' thing really work?" Mark asked dubiously, turning to Harry.

But to his surprise the other boy had vanished. Mark's back had only been turned a few seconds. Harry's lunatic school must have a really good athletics program, Mark thought ruefully.

Then he squared his shoulders and said aloud, "What the hell, you only live once."

And he set off across the play park, calling, "Dursley! Hey, Dursley!"