The Promise

Chapter 4 - Don't Be Afraid

''Harry!''

Harry was too lost in his thoughts, so he did not hear the voice when it called him the first time.

''Hey, you freak! Are you deaf?''

Harry's head shot up in alarm. He knew that voice and it didn't bode well for him. Four boys were standing right there in front of the swing set, three of them forming a half circle around the biggest one, who was the one who had spoken.

Harry's stomach clenched. This was Marcus Miller, Dudley's best mate from school, and the crowd they ran with. And every single one of them hated Harry as much as Dudley did. They had made his life a living hell from the first day he had set foot into the school. He'd been so hopeful back then to finally meet some other kids that might like him and could become his friends. But the first day had not even been over before it had become evident that this was not going to happen. Those that Dudley could not convince of the fact that Harry was a freak by telling gruesome stories, he simply bullied until they didn't dare to even smile in Harry's direction.

Harry jumped up from the swing, and looked around frantically. But the woman with her little son had vanished. The playground was deserted. Harry swallowed. Maybe Marcus would be satisfied with taunting him a little? Maybe he didn't have the time to beat him up today...

''So, they didn't take you on the family outing, hn?'' Marcus drawled. ''Well, I guess you have to be family to qualify. Would not want to take just any shit-head, only because somebody lost him on my doorstep either!''

''Yeah, Potter,'' the boy next to him sneered. ''Seems like everybody just does his damnedest to get rid of you!''

''Or maybe your mother was just as stupid as you!'' Marcus said in mock thoughtfulness. ''And simply forgot to pick you up again. Not like she would miss you, eh? Probably felt quite relieved she didn't have to see your ugly mug anymore.''

''Aw, poor Potty. Are you starting to cry?''

In all fairness to Harry, he wasn't. He was not someone to cry on impulse. He never burst into tears. He had learned the hard way, that crying in front of people only made everything worse. It meant that you were weak. It meant that you were ungrateful. It meant that you would be slapped a few times more for good measure. Harry only ever cried when no one saw. When no one heard. So no, Harry wasn't crying. After all he was much too scared to cry.

-

Sirius was still contemplating how he should go about making contact with Harry, when he saw the boys approach. He tensed. He didn't like the look of them. Frowning, he watched as they were talking to Harry. They were too far away for him to understand what was said, but he could see by the way Harry held himself, that he was afraid.

Damn! What should he do? He couldn't go over there like this. Everything about him screamed 'Convict!' and 'Look out, criminal on the run!'... At that moment he saw a ray of light glittering on something like a blade in the hand of the biggest boy, who was stepping closer to Harry.

Without thinking he transformed.

-

Marcus held the jackknife close to Harry's face. He had only recently got it, and loved to play around with it. He liked the way it lay in his hand. And he loved little Harry Potter's frozen face.

He laughed. ''It's really sharp, you know?'' he said innocently. ''I could skin you alive with that one.'' He retracted the blade and then, stepping closer to Harry, let it spring open once more in front of the smaller boy's face. Harry flinched and Marcus laughed.

And then, suddenly, everything became a blur.

Harry jumped backwards in alarm. There was a deep, murderous growl and then something big and black crashed into Marcus, throwing him sidelong to the ground. The other boys stood stunned, staring at what looked like a huge black, furry ball rolling around on the ground on top of their friend. The thing was growling menacingly and Marcus was screaming and flailing his legs, trying to push whatever it was away from him.

It had felt like forever, although it probably had only been seconds, when there was suddenly a yelp followed by an even deeper growl, and then there was blood. Blood on Marcus' hands and some on his face and clothes. The black beast retreated from the boy and his friends, who had run over to him, and put itself between them and Harry.

The boys dragged their friend to his feet and turned towards what had attacked him. Clinging frightenedly against each other, they stared at the beast, eyes wide open in fear, as it snarled, showing a set of long sharp teeth. It was the biggest and roughest looking dog either one of them had ever seen. The yellow eyes of the beast were glowing. Where had it come from? It looked like the answer was 'straight from hell'.

The boys didn't hesitate any longer - they spun around and ran as fast as they could, out of the playground, out of the park and possibly even out of Little Whinging.

Harry stared at the giant dog in front of him, not daring to do so much as breath too loudly. It looked filthy and wild, and he remembered Uncle Vernon once saying all wild dogs needed to be put down, because they had diseases. The dog turned around then and seemed to be looking at him. It was strange, Harry felt almost as if it was scrutinizing him. After a few moments, it shuddered suddenly and swayed a little. It gave the most pitiful whine, which sounded odd coming from such a vicious looking dog, and then turned back around to slowly crawl into the shrubbery to the right of the playground.

That's when Harry saw the trail of something red and wet it was leaving behind. For a moment Harry stood frozen in the middle of the playground. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. It all had gone so fast and he had been so scared, first of Marcus and then of the giant dog. But the the dog hadn't jumped him when he could have. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost think it had tried to protect him. Which of course was a stupid thing to think - why should the dog do that? It did not know him, had never seen him before. Dogs would only protect the person they belonged to, didn't they? The person they loved - like Lassie!

Harry looked at the ground and bit his lip when he saw the red spots in the sand. The dog was hurt. Maybe it had not exactly wanted to protect him, but it had spared him a trashing from Marcus and his friends nevertheless. If the dog had not shown up, this blood might have been Harry's. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, Harry carefully started to follow the bloody tracks into the undergrowth.

He didn't have to walk very far. Beyond the playground, between some trees, was a small shack where the keeper of the park stored all his equipment. The trail led straight towards the shack and around it. Harry slowly crept up to it and peeked around the corner of the small building.

The black dog had crawled under an old oak tree behind the shack, crouching there and panting heavily.

And then Harry saw something that made him gasp in fear and surprise. Right there in front of Harry's eyes the dog turned into a man. Harry blinked. Had he seen what he had just seen? First there was a dog, and only a dog. And now there was a man in its place. No dog in sight...

The man collapsed and rolled on his back. He looked very odd and a little frightening. In fact, he looked like one of those homeless people uncle Vernon always said were all lazy bastards. His strange clothes were threadbare and filthy and full of holes. He had no shoes and he was very, very thin.

Harry was scared. But just when he was trying to make his trembling legs turn and run, something stopped him. The ragged clothes the man was wearing were stained with red. Just like the dog, the man was bleeding. Harry hesitated. And then, very tentatively, Harry crept towards the stranger. When the man still didn't move, Harry shuffled over to him. On the man's left shoulder was a bloody gash, slowly seeping thick red fluid. But Harry's gaze was drawn to the man's face. His long black hair was tangled into a mess and hung over his features. But Harry could still see how pale and almost grey his skin was. His eyes, now closed, sat deep in their sockets, and his chin and cheeks were overgrown with a thick, wild beard. The man looked so haggard and worn, that Harry felt immediately sorry for him. And now he was badly hurt too.

Studying the man, while biting down on his lip, Harry made a decision. With a last look at the stranger Harry turned around and ran.

TBC