Dudley returned home with his friends to find the little freak weeding the flowerbeds in the front garden. Dudley strutted over to his freak cousin. Taunting the smaller boy was always good for entertainment. Sensing their leader's intent, the other boys spread out and surrounded their favourite victim like the jackals they were.
"Decided to come back, freak?" the overweight bully started. "Dad thought maybe you'd crawled off and died to leave us normal people in peace." The minions chuckled darkly at their leader's comment.
The dark haired boy simply ignored them as he mechanically continued to pull the weeds from the moist ground. This silence confused Dudley and his gang. Why hadn't the boy responded? Potter always responded. Whether they admitted it or not, the fire and resistance Potter showed was what made him a favourite target. One-on-one, Potter was a match for any of them except Dudley. But as a group he posed no real threat. In effect, he was tough enough to give them some fun but not enough to be a danger.
"Did you hear me, freak? Or did Dad finally knock you stupid?" Still the Potter boy did nothing to respond. Dudley felt a small trill of fear and uncertainty. This was new.
That uncertainty made Dudley lean over to push the smaller boy into the dirt. Except Potter suddenly stood up, turned and moved to the side in one graceful motion. Dudley barely recognized this as he fell into his Mum's prize rosebushes but his friends saw it.
Dudley gathered a few scratches crawling out of the bushes. As he stood up he was shocked to find Potter simply standing there watching him. Dudley shook off his friends' help as stood to face his cousin.
The part of Dudley's brain that would have been an intelligent, productive member of society if raised in a different environment tried to warn the oaf that something was different in the cousin. The boy was now almost eyelevel with Dudley and stood with a quiet confidence. The oaf barely noticed the target was missing his glasses but the small bit of functional brain noted the other boy didn't seem to be having any problem seeing.
The oaf ignored the brain's repeated warnings. ' Danger, Dudley Dursley! Danger! '
"That's it, Potter!" The nine year-old bully threw a punch directly for his cousin's face with all of his considerable weight behind it. The expected sound of fist meeting flesh was heard but not in the way expected.
The gang stood in shock as Potter caught the punch thrown at him in his hand and simply stopped it.
Dudley stared at his cousin in disbelief. That is when his eyes met his cousin's. Something in those eyes promised violence. The large blonde boy barely felt the warm trickle running down his leg.
"Leave me alone," the freak growled out.
The gang turned to run almost at the same time. Piers Polkis was the first to run but that quickly started the rest moving. Dudley was right behind them.
24 July 1991
The stag bound through the thicket surrounding the farm field ignoring the pull of the branches on its growing antler rack. The stag never paused to look around or check the knee-high plants for something to eat. It had much more important things on its mind.
Such as survival.
The large deer raced across the field in the pre-dawn light towards the other side. Coming close to the opposing edge of the field, the stag slowed to a stop to peer carefully around. Nothing was moving and no sound other than the laboured breathing of the stag broke the silence of the morning.
Tension released from the deer's stance. There was no sign of his pursuer. The hunter must have been lost back in the small forest. It was safe…
A sudden pain poked the stag in the side near the shoulder. Startled, the deer turned its head to find himself nose to nose with a great slobbering beast. Adrenalin and fear shot through the stag. There was no escape!
Sudden pain ripped through the deer's chest and its vision dimmed.
........
The most bizarre combination of howls and yelps could be heard coming from the edge of the field. An observer would have seen a very strange sight. A young stag was sprawled in the dirt unconscious while a black-furred beast lay rolling on the ground next to it.
Deer can faint?
Harry finally stood up as he fought to get air into his lungs. 'I know that was mean,' he thought, 'and I must be a horrible person because that was really funny.'
The werewolf moved off into the forest just as the deer started to stir. The beast started to howl again a moment later when the stag stood up with a shocked look of disbelief that it was still alive before bounding off to safety.
A short time later the Beast was sitting in a small hidden glen near a small stream. This place was Harry's favourite place away from his relatives. It was sheltered from much of the weather and had plenty of fresh water. But it was also very peaceful and beautiful. It was a great place to escape the Dursleys and the glares from people that believed their lies.
Harry absently removed a rabbit haunch before squatting down to eat. Fortunately his form dictated what he found acceptable cuisine. The Beast had no problem with raw meat for breakfast. Usually he only hunted smaller animals to eat. The deer would have been too much for him to eat in a single sitting and he had no place to store the leftovers.
Sometimes, Harry felt the need to hunt; to get fresh meat and eat his fill. Harry suspected that the Beast needed more protein than the Durley's meals provided. Petunia Dursley made a lot of pasta and Harry always got the smallest slices of meat. Stalking was great fun. It gave new meaning to the old term 'Harry Hunting'. Once he had his fill, he would divide up the animal's remains and leave it for other creatures of the forest. A number of foxes and similar smaller predators now called the forest home due to the abundant, easy food.
Harry had never stalked a deer before. They were skittish creatures and fast so they were fun to chase. But it just seemed wrong to eat them for some reason.