Harry James Potter was five years old. He knew this for exactly one reason: last week was the start of kindergarten. And wasn't that a series of revelations! He had a last and middle name, an age, theoretically a birthday, and… well, that was about it really. But still.

However, the rest of school had not gone nearly as well. The teacher thought he was lying about not knowing his name and made him stand in the corner for ten minutes. Which wasn't that bad, really, except that he kept on being sent back. If it wasn't for being unable to read what was on the board it was because he didn't have the proper materials. If it wasn't for that it was because he'd tried to blame poor Dudley—his "innocent" cousin—for tripping poor Lisa when it was obviously him—never mind that he'd been on the other side of the room at the time!

And every morning when he was dropped off Aunt Petunia had a long chat with the teacher, during which both would not together and glare at him out of the corner of their eyes.

School wasn't all bad, though. He liked learning, and having lunch every day, and not having chores, and his name. He really liked his name; so much so, in fact, that he'd taken to naming everything. The mailbox of Number 4 Privet Lane was dubbed George, the tree which loomed over the garden in the backyard was Jim, and each of the slats in the white picket fence which lined the property had their own name: Rob, Bob, Job, Gob… (he had decided they should all rhyme, irrespective of if the names were actually real).

Harry was currently in the backyard. He'd been sent out there hours earlier—it was Saturday—to weed, but nobody'd come to let him back in. To pass the time he'd begun searching for more things to name. There was a twig (Hilton), a berry (Irene), and a stone (Ralph) so far. Harry meandered further into the yard—maybe there was more things to name near the fence! As he neared, he thought he heard a noise. Quietly, the little boy dropped to his hands and knees and rounded the bush that stood between him and the keening noise. There, sticking out of a hole in the fence, was a blue head. It had two ears on either side, with yellowish insides that reminded Harry of the color of lightning. It managed to wriggle in two paws, and then another two and a tail. The back end of the animal was black and on the tail was a star-shaped thing about the same color as the ears.

"Hello." Harry said. "I'll name you Bolt."