Seeing Dudley lounging there with his gang under the tree, Harry instinctively thought about taking a discreet detour around the park to avoid any potential confrontation or unpleasantness, but Dudley had already noticed him from across the open space.
Their eyes met briefly across the distance.
However, Harry quickly decided it wasn't really that big a deal or worth worrying about. Just Dudley being Dudley, surrounded by his usual idiotic friends.
He shrugged casually—a habit he'd unconsciously picked up from Adrian over the months of living together as that gesture of dismissive indifference and immediately turned to continue walking, planning to simply leave without engaging.
He was certain that Dudley had no desire to interact with him either.
Come to think of it, they hadn't actually exchanged a single word the entire summer despite living in the same house. Not one word. They'd coexisted like hostile strangers, carefully avoiding each other at all times, passing in hallways without acknowledgment.
It had been actually remarkably peaceful.
Dudley's friends, however, lounging lazily on the bench beside him and apparently bored, had obviously noticed Harry as well and were now whispering among themselves.
One of them, a large boy with a shaved head, nudged Dudley sharply with his elbow and said something in a low voice that Harry couldn't quite hear from this distance.
Whatever was said made Dudley's expression change.
This action made Dudley visibly frown, his face was darkening. He glanced reluctantly in Harry's direction, seeming to have some internal argument, then slowly stood up from the bench with clear reluctance. He began walking toward Harry with his entire group of friends following behind him in a pack.
"?"
Seeing this unexpected development, Harry stopped in his tracks and turned to face them, silently watching the approaching group with curiosity.
He was genuinely curious to see what tricks they had up their sleeves, what stupid thing they planned to do.
Eventually, after an unnecessarily dramatic approach, Dudley and his four friends stopped in front of Harry, deliberately forming a semi-circle around him to block any easy escape route.
Classic bully tactics.
Among them, a blond boy with crude tattoos inked on his face and neck wore a malicious smile as he looked Harry up and down with contempt, taking in his worn clothes and thin body. Then he nudged Dudley meaningfully with his elbow again.
"So, Big D, this is the famous cousin you're always talking about?" The blond boy's voice carried a heavily mocking tone, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The one who goes to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys?"
That was the lie the Dursleys told their neighbors about where Harry went to school—a reform school for juvenile delinquents.
Another boy wearing thick glasses whistled mockingly and took an exaggerated half-step back in feigned fear, holding up his hands. "Whoa, really? I heard that place is pretty rough, mate. Dangerous criminals and all that. Should we be scared?"
The group laughed at this performance.
Dudley cleared his throat uncomfortably, his voice somewhat tight and reluctant, as if he wasn't entirely comfortable with this confrontation but felt obligated to maintain his reputation. "Yeah, that's him."
Harry paused slightly, processing their words and intentions, then understood—so these idiots were here purely to make fun of him, to mock and intimidate.
But he had absolutely no time to waste here with these childish fools playing their stupid games. He had far more important things to do.
As for using magic to teach these guys a proper lesson—that was completely unnecessary and beneath him now. They weren't worth the effort or the risk.
At this thought, Harry suddenly smiled, almost amused by the situation.
However, when the blond boy saw that Harry wasn't showing any fear whatsoever and was actually laughing at them, standing there smiling calmly, he immediately felt his fragile pride was hurt.
His expression darkened, anger was flashing in his eyes. He stepped forward aggressively, reaching out with one tattooed hand to shove Harry's shoulder hard.
"You think this is funny, kid?" He snarled viciously, his fingers reaching toward Harry's shirt, intending to push him backward. "Let me wipe that smile off your—"
But Harry was considerably faster.
The combat skills and defensive techniques he'd learned from Adrian made him react almost instinctively, his body was moving before his conscious mind even processed the threat.
He nimbly took half a step backward with perfect balance, easily avoiding the clumsy shove, while simultaneously his right hand shot out and grabbed the other boy's extended wrist with a firm grip. At the same moment, he softly murmured a spell under his breath.
A small, temporary, punitive jinx.
"Crack!"
With a subtle sound of displaced joints, the blond boy's wrist suddenly drooped at an extremely unnatural angle, bending in a way wrists absolutely should not bend.
His eyes widened in shock and confusion. After a stunned second where his brain tried to process what had just happened, the delayed pain signals reached his consciousness and excruciating agony flooed over him in an overwhelming wave.
"AHHHHH—!"
With a high-pitched scream of pain, he stumbled back clutching desperately at his injured wrist with his other hand, embracing it against his chest. "My wrist! What the hell did you do to me?! It's broken!"
His face had gone completely white with shock and pain.
Dudley and his other friends all froze in place like statues, staring at the scene unfolding before them in complete disbelief. Their mouths were hung open stupidly.
None of them had seen exactly what Harry had done. It had happened too fast.
"You... you used magic, didn't you?" Dudley questioned murmuringly to Harry, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and accusation.
Harry stood calmly in place looking completely relaxed. He spread his hands open innocently to show they were empty. "I didn't do anything at all. He fell. He is just clumsy, I suppose."
"Look at my hand! It's broken!" The blond boy cried desperately, raising his wrist to show the others the injury.
But the next second, his anguished cries stopped abruptly mid-shout, cutting off as if someone had flipped a switch.
He stared down at his wrist in disbelief. He turned it slowly back and forth, flexing the fingers, rotating it carefully. It was completely intact with absolutely no sign of dislocation at all, no swelling, no bruising, and mysteriously no pain anymore either.
As if nothing had ever happened to it.
"This... this is impossible!" The blond boy stammered, breathing hard, gently moving his wrist experimentally with growing confusion and fear.
He could swear on his life it hadn't been an illusion—the cold sweat from the intense pain still lingered dampiy on his forehead and temples, his shirt was soaked through.
But the injury had simply... vanished.
"If there's nothing else you wanted, I'll be going now," Harry said calmly, his gaze turning toward Dudley.
Dudley and his friends instinctively took a full step backward in unison flinching, clearing a wide path for Harry to pass through.
No one dared to stop him now or say another word. They looked at him with a mixture of fear and confusion, like he was something dangerous.
Harry walked calmly through the gap they'd created, not looking back.
Just then, without any warning, the bright afternoon sky suddenly darkened.
The change was instant and unnatural, like someone had thrown a switch.
Was it going to rain? Some summer storm rolling in?
Harry instinctively looked up to observe the sudden weather change. The sky above had transformed—it was now gray and hazy, almost colorless, as if someone had drawn a thick gray curtain across the entire area of blue, blocking out the sun completely.
The sunlight had vanished, replaced by oppressive gloom. An unnatural, bone-chilling cold began permeating the air rapidly, spreading like invisible frost, making breath visible and skin prickle with goosebumps.
The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees in seconds.
"What's happening?" The boy with glasses asked nervously, hugging his arms tightly around himself as he began shivering. His voice trembled. "Why did it suddenly get so cold? It was boiling hot a second ago..."
Dudley looked around uneasily at the darkened park, his eyes were wide, and his face was turning paler as fear crept up his spine.
In broad daylight, in the middle of summer... surely, they weren't encountering ghosts? That was impossible. Things like that didn't exist.
Suddenly he remembered something and turned his gaze sharply back to Harry, still trembling as he asked accusingly, "What trick are you playing now? This is you, isn't it? Stop it!"
"This time I really didn't do anything," Harry said, his entire demeanor changing instantly from relaxed to alert.
His expression became serious and focused. His right hand moved quickly to grip the wand hidden in his pocket.
This sudden oppressive cold and unnatural darkness felt somewhat familiar to him—this was definitely not an ordinary weather change or summer storm.
"Maybe it's just going to rain really hard," The blond boy said, trying desperately to sound calm and rational, trying to convince himself, but the unease and rising panic in his voice betrayed him. "Surprise weather, that's all. Let's just head back quickly before it starts pouring."
But just then, before anyone could move, a faint but blood-curdling wailing sound drifted from somewhere in the distance, echoing across the empty park.
An inhuman sound, like screaming without words.
Everyone's hair stood on end instinctively.
Harry's heart sank like a stone into ice water as terrible realization crashed over him.
He finally understood exactly what this was—the presence of Dementors approaching.
But this was a Muggle residential area, a normal suburban neighborhood. How could Dementors possibly appear here? They were supposed to be at Azkaban, or at least confined to magical areas under Ministry control!
The next moment, Harry squinted against the unnatural darkness and indeed saw those heart-stopping figures in the distant sky, confirming his worst fears.
Several tall silhouettes draped in tattered, rotting black cloaks were suspended in mid-air, floating slowly this way like death.
The Dementors seemed to actively suck away the surrounding light wherever they moved, forming an expanding unnatural zone of absolute darkness and cold that spread before them.
Dudley and the others naturally saw the Dementors' terrifying figures as well.
Although Muggles usually couldn't see the vast majority of things from the magical world, Dementors were a notable and terrible exception to that rule.
Dementors represented a kind of despairing negative emotion, a manifestation of pure misery and hopelessness that transcended the normal boundary between magical and non-magical existence.
So, whether wizard or Muggle, as long as they were humans with normal rich emotions and memories, they could sense and see these creatures of darkness.
Everyone could see their own death approaching.
"Run! RUN!" Someone shouted in absolute panic.
Dudley's little group instantly erupted into complete chaos and terror.
The blond boy was the very first to turn around, abandoning everyone else without hesitation, running frantically in the opposite direction like a madman fleeing for his life. His tattoos couldn't help him now.
The others scattered immediately in all directions like frightened animals.
It must be said that under extreme fear and the threat of death, people can unleash tremendous physical potential they didn't know they possessed.
In almost the blink of an eye, in just seconds, everyone except Dudley had vanished completely without a trace, disappeared down streets and around corners.
Only Dudley remained standing there as if his feet had been nailed to the spot, his legs had turned completely weak and useless beneath him. He couldn't make them work no matter how hard he tried.
He stared fixedly at those increasingly closer terrifying figures floating in the darkened sky, his lips were trembling but unable to make any sound come out. His throat had closed up with pure terror.
His so-called friends had long since run far away at top speed, abandoning him, not a single one of them was looking back to help or check if he was following.
Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief despite the situation. This was actually somewhat good news for him tactically.
At least now he didn't have to be distracted trying to protect four panicking Muggles who would only get in the way.
He quickly assessed the situation.
There were at least four Dementors visible, possibly more hidden in the darkness, all floating over from one direction in a coordinated group. Their attention seemed to be focused mainly on him specifically.
Was he their actual target? Had they been sent here for him?
That seemed too coincidental to be random chance.
"Dudley, run! NOW!" Harry shouted sternly, while simultaneously raising his wand above his head.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silver light poured from the tip of his wand, and a majestic and elegant silver stag leapt forth.
Unlike Dementors, which Muggles could see and feel, Muggles couldn't perceive the true form of a Patronus at all.
In Dudley's eyes, Harry had merely raised that weird little wooden stick of his and produced what looked like an insignificant bit of silver light, nothing more.
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