A Dark Lord in the Making

First Impressions

Harry lay with his hands under his head, staring at the clouds passing by. After all, as a twelve-year-old, he didn't have much to do. The family he lived with preferred not to pay him any attention, and Harry was happy to go along with this. His uncle, aunt, and cousin may have been his official family, but this did not mean that they had family ties.

His aunt was his mother's sister, at least that's what everyone told him. He couldn't see any resemblance between the lovely red-haired creature that was his mother in pictures in his album and the horse-like creature that was his aunt. The woman was too thin and had an abnormally long neck, which accentuated the horse-like features on her face. - But that was of course a matter of taste, Harry decided.

His uncle was a huge man, who bore a great resemblance to a walrus. The animal's thick whiskers weren't the only thing that could confuse the local TV station with a video of a walrus, or his uncle making 'Cannonballs' in the pool, nay, the man's sheer size, along with his silly expressions caused much glee in Harry's wild fantasies.

Finally, we got to the star of the show, his cousin, Dudley. Though his cousin didn't look like a walrus, or like a horse, his cousin had inherited his parents' stupid expressions. Unfortunately, he had also acquired the brute strength of his father and liked to use his thick, heavy fists on Harry, who in turn liked to antagonize him. Fortunately, Harry was light- the advantage of not being fed- and was able to run fast. This resulted in him leaping like a hare over fences and running fast across the green grass when chased by his cousin and gang.

The last Harry Hunt had been two weeks ago, and a lot had changed since then. What his cousin knew, but the rest of his gang didn't, was that Harry was a wizard; and, if he were to believe others, "a damn strong one. " However, it was the events of last summer that ensured that his cousin had stopped terrorizing Harry.

Dudley hadn't forgotten that he'd seen a pudding floating through the lounge. He had watched his aunt's great showpiece fly through the air, only to fall hard to the ground. Dudley's heart had tightened painfully at the sight of the pudding shattering. The tasty decorations could not even be saved and were immediately thrown into the waste bin. However, last summer's almost traumatic events weren't the only reason Dudley avoided Harry.

It had been the first week of summer vacation, and Harry had come home disillusioned from another perilous school year at Hogwarts. He had fought a huge snake, complete with a deadly, or at least, a look that the snake could petrify you with. The Basilisk had not been his main concern, however, no, his main concern had been Tom Riddle, who had triumphantly crawled out of an old diary and proclaimed that he was the mini version of Lord Voldemort.

Harry was then- quite logically in his humble opinion- slightly panicked and running for his life when the huge Basilisk was sent after him to kill him. However, the Headmaster's words had been clear to his mind, and he had hoped that Hogwarts would indeed send help. When it came in the guise of an old Sorting Hat and a songbird, his courage had waned further. However, Harry wouldn't be a real Gryffindor if he hadn't bravely persevered and then pulled a real sword from the hat. Long story short, Harry stabbed the snake; it fell dead to the ground, and Tom Riddle began his evil monologue. Harry will be the first to admit that he had only heard Tom's story with half an ear, but he had the story stored in his memory. Unfortunately, shortly afterward he'd been forced to stab the diary with a Basilisk's fang- it made Tom Riddle fade until the boy was gone.

After these tragic events, Harry had a chat with Dumbledore, who talked about Harry's similarities to Tom, but indicated that his choices would reveal who they really are, much more than our talents. And that was the ultimate reason why Dudley stopped doing Harry hunting after his first week.

Harry had been irritated and tired- yes, he'd been very tired most of all. He hadn't been in the mood for Dudley's tantrums as he ripped through the expensive polo shirt bought in at least 2 sizes too small for his stature for the umpteenth time. He also didn't feel like the severe migraines he got from the screams of his uncle, who stood over him flushed, spraying saliva. After all, he hadn't felt like doing all kinds of household chores like the next best house-elf.