Chiklets Game Competition - prompt: superhero
It's like he blinks, but his eyes open months after they shut.
When his disorientation begins to pass, it's replaced with devastation. He can't believe he's missed his first year as a wizard-in-training. Madam Pomfrey tells him not to worry about that, and just be glad he's alive.
"How come I'm alive?" he asks. "What happened to me?"
"You were petrified," she says, and he searches his memory.
"Like Mrs. Norris?"
"Exactly." She presses a goblet of something fizzy into his hand and guides it to his lips. "Drink up, that's it. You were very lucky, young man. If you hadn't been looking through your camera, you could've been killed."
The potion tastes fruity and spicy and makes a soothing warmth spread through his chest. He looks up to ask another question but she's bustled off to another bed before he's swallowed.
Professor Dumbledore gathers them all in one end of the Hospital Wing to explain what has happened to them.
"It was a basilisk, wasn't it?" Hermione Granger asks. She is sitting on the edge of her bed, her foot anxiously tapping beneath the blanket.
"There was indeed a basilisk kept in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets." Dumbledore nods to her, but remains serious. "For those of you unaware, a basilisk is a large serpent whose gaze will kill anyone with whom it makes eye contact. When the eyes are seen indirectly, for example, in a reflection or through a transparent object…"
He remembers his camera with a start. When he reaches for it on the bedside table, the door of the film compartment falls open, and he can see the insides melted and charred. He cradles it in his lap while Dumbledore tells them about Slytherin's Heir. It feels like the sacrifice of a good friend.
There were no possible words to describe the towers of Hogwarts, his friends or his classes in the perfect detail he wanted his father and Dennis to see them in. If he could transmit some sort of video straight from his eyes he would have. They always shared everything and he didn't want them to miss a thing. The photographs were the best he could do, proper wizard photographs were turned out to be almost perfect. He could document his new, magical life and his family could practically step into it.
He wanted to share Harry back home most of all because here was a living legend, scrawny and awkward and a little weird-looking and like him. They'd think it was so cool. He ate meals at the same table as this amazing person. He could be his friend.
He shuffles through his photographs, looking for pictures of Harry. Not one is smiling. Guilt and embarrassment squeeze his stomach.
Whenever he sees him after the feast, Harry is surrounded by people. He's itching to ask him all the same things everyone else must be ("Did you really kill a giant snake with a sword? Was it hard? Were you scared?") but he's having a hard time summoning the courage to approach him now. The last thing he wants is Harry to look at him again like in the photos, like he's some annoyance he just has to endure.
It must be exhausting. He's been looking at this from the perspective of somebody that has to fight for attention, but in this way, Harry isn't like him. He just keeps having greatness thrust upon him; his life really is like something out of a book.
The thought makes him smile a little in spite of himself. What Harry needs is a secret identity, a life where he's just normal Harry who's never saved anyone. Superman didn't have to be Superman all the time.
Everyone is packing their things to go home (already!) when he finally bumps into Harry on the boy's dormitory staircase.
"Sorry!" he gasps.
"It's alright," says Harry.
"Okay." Colin sucks in his lips nervously. It takes Harry's polite nod of farewell to force him to speak. He can't let himself waste the opportunity.
"I just wanted to say thank you," he says. "For stopping the monster and everything."
Harry shrugs. "Erm, you're welcome, Colin."
He looks uncomfortable, and Colin can no longer ignore it.
"You grew up with Muggles, didn't you?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Did you ever read comic books?"
"Not really," says Harry, and he looks like he's about to go on for a second but doesn't say anything more.
"Well, you know superheroes." Harry nods. Colin shrugs, suddenly feeling like this is a stupid thing to say. "Maybe next time you do something important you ought to put on a mask, or something. So you don't have to deal with everyone asking you all about it."
Harry exhales heavily, his mouth pulls into a tight smile. "I think I'm just hoping there isn't a next time."
"Yeah, that's probably best." Colin gives a smile back that's just as affected. "Thanks again, Harry." Hurriedly, he darts back into his room and closes the door tightly behind him.
If Harry just wants to be normal, he isn't going to help, because he can't see him as anything but a hero.