The Art of Survival

Harry didn't know how to fight with fists, but he did know how to fight with words. He observed his five instigators. He needed to buy some time either for a teacher to find him, or to plan his escape.

He gave his confused attackers a smirk, "I have to say, Malcom, I'm surprised that you're still going to school here. I heard you were moving out because your parents are getting a divorce. Something about your father sleeping with Dennis' mother."

The boy blinked at him, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's just a rumour I heard. The word is he disliked you so much that he left his wife because of it. Maybe he just likes Dennis better."

Harry wasn't exactly lying. He had heard his aunt gossip about the scandal. However, they had no idea who the woman in question was. He just wanted to fan the flames for a bit. He definitely never expected that his Aunt Petunia's nonsensical gossip would be useful for anything.

Harry was proven right when Malcom ran at his friend and started hitting him. A fight had started out between the two of them, and Gordon went to stop them. The green-eyed boy tried to run away, only to be restrained by his furious cousin and Piers.

It seems that even with the three of them being distracted, his escape plan wasn't successful. Dudley grinned at his cousin, "I'm not going to let you run, freak."

At least he only needed to deal with two, with the rest being distracted in their little spat. Harry observed his opponents and saw that Piers was slightly limping on his right leg, meaning that his left one was injured somehow. Harry looked around and saw nothing more than sand. Oh, Harry had no idea how to fight, but he had learned the most painful places to hit someone from a book.

Dudley lunged towards Harry who ducked and grabbed a fistful of sad. Harry then threw his sand in his cousin's eyes and had enough to even hurt Piers. Unfortunately, Piers was still holding him tight, even if he had been blinded by the sand. But Harry kicked his injured leg and the boy let him go while screaming. He stepped out into the blind fist of Dudley who hit him in the stomach.

Harry retaliated with a much weaker strike of his own which didn't seem to do any damage. After another punch, Harry fell down. He couldn't breathe, everything was going black. Until finally, the familiar feeling of his 'freakishness' came back, and Dudley was propelled away from him. Although the boy still managed to hit Harry in the head before being banished away.

Harry got up after Dudley was away, only to feel like his head was exploding. Had Dudley really hit him that hard? These were the last thoughts he had before he fell unconscious.

Harry got up after Dudley was away, only to feel like his head was exploding. Had Dudley really hit him that hard? These were the last thoughts he had before he fell unconscious.

As the teachers ran towards the unconscious boy, they thought that he had been knocked unconscious from a hit in the head. They quickly got the boy to the infirmary for the school nurse to take a look at him.

However, while from the outside the boy was completely still, his body unmoving, his mind was whirling in exertion choosing to keep up with his newfound knowledge. Because for the first time, Harry Potter remembered. The thing that was always on the tip of his tongue, in the corner of his eye, revealed itself, and he didn't know how to make heads and tails of it.

His name was Harrold Smith, and he was born in Manchester in a lower middle-class family. His father was an accountant at a small firm, and his mother was a secretary until she quit her job when his younger brother Nathan was born. Nathan was four years younger than him and was quite sickly ever since he was born, both physically and, as they later found out, mentally.

Nathan's birth was the beginning of the misery that befallen the Smith family, and yet Harrold could not hate him for it. He loved his brother and promised to protect him. When his father became distant, taking a second job to be able to provide for the household, Harrold understood the need for it. After all, with Nathan's health complications came medical bills, and then the constant counselling that he would need for the rest of his life.

When Harrold's mother started ignoring him in favour of taking care of his brother, he understood why that happened. He had missed his smiling mother doting on him, but his brother was sick, and that was more important than anything else he could selfishly want.

Because Harrold was an intelligent boy, perhaps not a super genius or something that ridiculous, but enough to see the world around him. He excelled in primary school, being ahead of all his peers. He excelled in secondary school and graduated as the best student in his school.

Even when Harry's father died in a car accident when he was thirteen, Harrold did his best to work his arse off trying to save money for university. His mother, unable to leave her sickly son whom she homeschooled, couldn't get a job and living off their savings. And when she ran out, she took permission from Harrold to use the money his father had set apart for his education to survive, and he accepted without a second's thought. After all, this money was his father's initially, and it was the right thing to do.