A year in the life of Harry Potter
Chapter 1: July, 28
Click! Click! Click!
"Shift your head a bit more to the left. A bit more. Yes, perfect, Harry, perfect!"
Click, click, click, click!
"And now smile. Act as if you've just been told the most funniest joke ever, Harry! Yes! This is beyond perfect!"
Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!
"We're finished for today," an elderly man who had spoken before said, standing up. He put his camera with which he had token photos on a table. "Harry, one day you'll get famous. Your face will be on all the front pages of the fashion magazines all over England! What am I talking about? All over the world!"
"Ted, you're exaggerating," Harry Potter grinned, though the thought of it didn't scare him.
Half a year ago Ted Macintosh, the owner of Ted's Model Agency, had seen him on the streets walking with his relatives to the shopping mall. He had approached them and talked with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia Dursley about Harry trying out modeling. At first they hadn't been too fond of the idea as they hadn't liked Harry that much. However, soon their nephew was in numerous children fashion magazines, advertising the newest clothes, whether it was shorts and shirts for the summer, jackets and trousers for the winter, or swimming accessories. Of course the modeling job brought in money, and that made Vernon and Petunia like their nephew even more.
"C'mon, boy," Vernon called from the other end of the room. "You still have to help Dudley with his maths equations."
Upon the new found love of his relatives Harry, who was quite intelligent, had offered to help his cousin with the school work.
"See ya later, Ted!" Harry called, putting a t-shirt over his naked chest. They had just made some pictures for Debenhams advertising some of the shorts they'd sell this summer for boys. Although Harry was only ten years old he looked already like thirteen. He was tall for his age, had a six-pack and an overall well-built body. Since he started modeling he'd started to work out a bit in his free time. When he'd been younger Harry had to do all sorts of chores as punishment, now he did them to keep fit.
"Harry!" three nine-year-old girls screamed as Vernon and Harry exited Ted's Model Agency. "HARRY!"
Not only did modeling bring money, but also younger and sometimes also older girls who wanted to go out with him. At the moment he had a girlfriend, Josy, who was probably the best-looking girl in the whole school. She was eleven and in his class. All the other boys were jealous of him for getting her.
"Ignore them, Harry," Vernon hissed, unlocking the car door.
"Harry! Harry! Please, smile for us!" the girls continued to scream.
Harry turned around to them and grinned his beloved grin. Then he got into the car and his uncle drove away.
Fifteen minutes later they were at #4 Privet Drive, the house Harry lived in with his relatives.
"Any other appointments?" Harry asked as they walked up to the front door. He was exhausted.
"No, not that I know," Vernon answered, opening the door.
"Hello, sweetheart," Petunia said. She kissed Vernon on the cheek. "How was the photographing?"
"Same as always," Harry shrugged. "Can't complain." He started walking up the staircase.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. A reporter called. He'd like to interview you today, Harry. Apparently you're one of the most famous boy models in Surrey," his aunt called after him.
"Tell him to come up to my room when he arrives," Harry replied. "I'll just take a shower and get changed."
An hour later Harry sat at his desk, a box of Marco's Luxury Cream Wafers in his hand. Opposite him on his bed sat the reporter that had called. He reminded Harry a bit of Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective.
"Want one?" he asked, holding the box towards the reporter who shook his head. Harry shrugged, took one and sucked on it, inhaling the taste of coffee that he loved so much.
"So, Harry - if I can call you that," the man began.
"Sure. Go on."
"I'm Mr. Sour, though I'm nothing my surname should suggest." He smiled warmly. "You probably heard of the magazine Fashion for Youth?"
"Yeah, sure. Been in there once or twice."
"Well, I'm working for Fashion for Youth, Harry, and they want to publish an article about two child models - a boy and a girl. When I asked at Ted's Model Agency if they could tell me a few names, they suggested you and Phoebe Harrington."
"Phoebe is nice. I worked with her a few times."
"You wouldn't mind answering a few questions the, would you?"
"Nope. Just ask me and I answer as honest as I can."
"OK, let's begin," Mr. Sour said. "How much did modeling change your life?"
"More than you can imagine," Harry answered instantly, taking another cream wafer. "Everyone likes me, I have much more money than before, I'm well known now. Ted says I might even be world-famous when I'm older."
"You'd like that?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Third question. If you could choose of any supernatural power - controlling the elements for example - which would you choose?"
Harry thought, sucking on a wafer. He'd never wasted a thought about something like this. However, he knew which supernatural power he'd love to have. He got up from his chair, walked to the door and looked out, making sure that none of his relatives were there. Then he walked back to his desk and sat down again before he answered.
"I'd love to be a wizard," he said in a low voice.
Mr. Sour wrote it down. "So, who is your idol?"
"Sherlock Holmes. As you see here " - Harry pointed at a shelf above his bed - "I have the entire series of his books. The way he solves all sorts of crimes just fascinates me. All about him fascinates me to say the truth."
"Well, then. Back to modeling. Do you enjoy it?"
"As much as anyone could. It's a fun thing to do."
"Fashion for Youth asked me to ask you some questions about your background, Harry," Mr. Sour continued. "You don't mind me asking, do you?"
"Of course not," Harry answered. However, he thought, if you go too far you won't find me answering you another question ever again.
"No one knows much of your background, so it's quite an interesting thing. You live with your uncle and aunt, right?"
"Right," Harry answered, fearing where this would go to. He liked Mr. Sour, and it'd be great if they could have some more interviews in the future, but only if he didn't ask the question a lot of reporters had made the mistake to ask.
"Harry, do you know who your parents are?"
He did it. He asked the one question he was not meant to ask.
"Out," Harry hissed, standing up.
"But -"
"OUT!" Harry screamed, pointing at the door.
"Is everything alright?" Petunia asked worriedly, popping her head in. "He didn't asked the question, did he?"
"What question?" Mr. sour asked irritated.
Harry nodded to his aunt, his teeth gritted, glaring at Mr. Sour sourly. He sat down again and took another wafer to keep his emotions under control.
"I think you'd better leave," his aunt said to the reporter, ushering him out. She closed the door.
Harry stood up and threw himself onto his bed. He hated his parents. They left him at this house of hatred. Nine years of torture had been more than enough. However, the last half a year had been different. His relatives started to love him. But only because of the money he was making.
"Why?" Harry screamed into his pillow. "Why? Why did they have to leave me? What did I ever do to them?"
Everyone always thought that Harry had the happiest life a child could hope to have. He had money. He was well known if not yet famous. He had more than enough girls who wanted him.
It was the opposite. He hated his life. All the people only liked him because of his money. Even Josy was only going out with him to make her friends and all the other boys jealous. Harry didn't have anything against that - at least not as long as things wouldn't get serious, like kissing or something like that, although she'd already tried doing that.
The one thing every child in his neighborhood had that he didn't have was loving parents. Harry would give his chance of being a world-famous model when he'd be older away to just spent one day with his parents. But no, they had to leave him here.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had told him all the time about how bad his parents were, and how lucky he was to be with them now. Apparently they were life-long in jail for killing someone. Harry didn't care though. They were his parents and that was the only thing that counted.
Before he knew it Harry had fallen asleep because of the tiredness the day had brought.