A Dark Lord in the Making

First Impressions

Harry had thought hard about the conversation with Tom Riddle in his first week with the Dursleys and had recalled his precise words. He had managed to remember his way of speaking and his way of presenting; Harry thought his story of setting up Hagrid as a perfect example. Harry then realized that Dumbledore was right; it was all about the choices Harry made and how he chose to use his talents.

He had started his plan during a well-known Harry Hunt. He ran ahead of the group of boys, but this time had mapped out a very focused route. He started his plan by running past the church, making a very targeted tear in his oversized t-shirt, revealing his uncle's bruises from a few nights before. He had even timed the flight and had known that the vicar was working in the garden around the church that part of the afternoon. A clever jump over the church gate had sent Harry- quite literally- into the vicar's arms.

Harry had looked slightly disheveled, his shirt was hanging out of his pants, his pants were dirty and his arm was bleeding a little. What worried the vicar, however, was the frightened look in Harry's eyes. However, Harry had paid little attention to the vicar and had looked back timidly, searching for his pursuers. He had gasped in terror and ran out of the churchyard when his cousin and his gang came into view.

The next step in Harry's plan was to run to the local bridge club where all sorts of old women had been playing cards all day, gossiping about the neighborhood. Harry was aware of his image and knew that many people saw him as a deranged juvenile delinquent; it was therefore up to Harry to rectify this image.

He rushed to the bridge club and stopped, panting, in front of the group of ladies who knew each other well from church.

"Ladies, my humble apologies for this interruption," Harry began, smiling charmingly at the ladies. "First of all, may I compliment you on brightening up my day, if your gorgeous outfits weren't enough reason to start a bright day, your smiles are the icing on the cake. As my day goes on, you are my shining centerpiece."

The old ladies gave a ladylike giggle behind their hands and looked at Harry with new eyes. Harry had counted on this and answered their questions calmly and in control, with the necessary charm. He channeled his inner Tom and one by one wrapped the ladies of the bridge club around his little finger. When he saw the searching figure of Pierce, one of the goons in Dudley's gang, in the corner of his eye, he had said a hasty goodbye. As he'd expected, the old ladies squealed in dismay and asked in plain language where Harry had to leave in such a hurry and why such a neat boy was dressed so sloppily.

Before he could explain himself, however, he heard a few meters away: "Freak! Stand still! Dirty Bastard! We'll get you, poof!"

Harry had to hold back a smile, he couldn't have planned it better.

He turned his prettiest white smile at the ladies and looked over his shoulders at the approaching mob of rascals. "My apologies ladies, I hope you have a better afternoon than I will have. You know how it is today, polite behavior and genuine manners are seen as a sign of disposition; if you understand what I mean. Unfortunately, it is how it is, ladies. I hope to see you soon under better circumstances. Until then." Harry bowed to the ladies and conjured up a flower which he gave to the most dominant woman in the group. "Ladies."

Harry ran away when Dudley tried to grab him by his white t-shirt. He sprinted to the market, which was in full swing at this time of day; all kinds of colorful stalls, with even more colorful sellers, filled the streets. Harry slowed and moved through the crowd in a controlled manner. He apologized before bumping into someone, he helped an old lady grab a scarf that was hanging too high from the roof of a stall, and he managed to help a man balance his bowl of pulses.

However, his good deeds were short-lived as his cousin was the first to violently push aside the person Harry had politely let go of before. Pierce then ran into the old woman, her new scarf smashed by the many footsteps of Dudley's gang. Finally, two boys- who reminded Harry a lot of Grabbe and Goyle- had bumped into the Indian legume salesman, all of whom fell to the cold stones in front of his colorful stall.