Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.
That's my first try at writing a story. I don't even know if I continue it someday, but I would like to know what you think of it.
Harry Potter was excited, no he was beyond excited, he finally understood who or what he was.
This was the reason why he could do things other people couldn't, it all made sense.
He was some kind of Superhero.
Well not yet, conceded Harry, he was after all only seven years old, but he was a hero in the making, that was obvious, he thought happily.
Sitting in the shade of a young tree in the park near his aunt's and uncle's house, reading the latest copy of the Superman comics, he managed to nick from Dudley, Harry imagined himself flying over the rooftops of London while occasionally saving some pretty lady.
‚Yeah that doesn't sound so bad , not bad at all.' he grinned.
Turning the last page of his comic, Harry noticed the shadows getting longer and the sun setting behind the trees.
„Time to get back." He muttered, his mood istantly dropping .
Sighing he stood up and made his way back to his delightful relatives, he chuckled at his first try at sarcasm, maybe he was more like Batman, he thought absently.
That's what he was doing alot lately, compairing himself and various Superheroes, even going so far that he got his first scolding by his teacher for daydreaming.
Even now on the short walk back to his relatives' house he was doing it.
Powers ?
He could do a lot of things, but the most obvious was his ability to levitate objects without touching, nothing big mind you, small stuff like pencils, slips of paper and resently he even managed to lift a fork.
Not very impressiv compared to the guys in his, eh, Dudley's comics but he was still a hero in the making, he reminded himself.
His other skills were more like accidents in his opinion, because he never managed to repeat them, in example his trip to the roof of his school , he still had no idea how he did that.
Anyway, Powers ? Check.
Sad childhood ?
That's a given. Parents are dead, apparently killed in a car crash and he had to sleep in cupboard.
While he didn't look like some dosser, his aunt made sure of that since she didn't want the neighbours to get any ideas about the way they treated him,but she usually bought him some cheap and non-discript clothes or gave him Dudley's old stuff, which would roughly fit him.
So, where was I ? Ah yes, sad childhood ? Check.
Weakness ?
Well, he was small, but what seven year old wasn't ? So that didn't count, Harry thought rubbing his forhead.
Of course !
His glasses, oh how he haited his glasses. Glasses weren't cool and definitely not worth fitting a futur Superhero, except he was in some kind of disguise.
He would have to fix that sometime in the futur, because aside from being unheroish, they were highly inpractical, he thought darkly, remembering the times Dudley and his gang managed to catch him during their hunts and break his glasses while punching him in the face.
Dudley always thought it was a great laugh watching him stumple blindly around without his glasses.
He who laughs last and so on …
Weakness (plus thoughts of revenge, Harry chuckled) ? Check.
As Harry stood at the frontdoor of his home, about to knock, he thought about the last point on his relativly short list.
It was always the same point.
He lacked an archenemy.