So, this is the story of a Harry Potter that was allowed to read comics. A Harry who grew up reading about and idiolising Superheroes, and one who would be truly ecstatic to find out about his magic, and motivated to learn it. It allowed me to write a Harry who was determined to learn, without just turning him into a male Hermione. This won't really be dark, or angsty, and will have no massive elements of non-canon added to it. I have no idea about pairings, Harry is still 11, we'll find out later on. Until then - enjoy!

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter. I do however own at least one shoe, possibly even two. Who knows?

Harry James Potter was not a sociable boy. Well, to say that would be a little misleading. Harry Potter would happily spend his days talking and playing with his friends but, well - he didn't have any. It wasn't Harry's fault though, rather, it was all the fault of his cousin Dudley. The fat oaf, as Harry always quietly thought of him, had bullied away any other children who'd ever shown interest in being his friend. It had been like that since he'd started school, at the age of 4. So to everyone in the neighbourhood, Harry was a pariah - he'd been alone for so long that that people just didn't approach him anymore, without Dudley having to do anything anymore. But Harry didn't mind - he had his comics. When he was 5 the Dursleys had reluctantly allowed him to come into the Newsagents with them, at which point he'd toddled straight over to the magazine rack and picked up a comic. This went quite unnoticed by his Aunt and Uncle, who were dealing with a screeching Dudley, enraged over not getting one of each and every chocolate bar the shop had.

Harry had become quickly immersed in the world of 'Spiderman' for the full 20 minutes it took to calm Dudley down, with promises of more chocolate tomorrow. When they attempted to usher Harry out of the shop, they yanked the comic out of his hands, tearing the front page. After that they had to buy it anyway, and Dudley wasn't interested in the Marvel comics, so they let Harry have it. The moment they got home, after discovering there was no more chores Harry instantly retreated into his cupboard with the comic, reading it over and over again, not making a single sound for the entire evening.

Amazed by the silence of the child, his Aunt and Uncle took an afternoon the following weekend to go to car boot sale. After buying as many toys for Dudley as it took to guarantee his good behaviour for the day, they bought a large pile of second hand comics, adding Dudley's old ripped ones to the pile once they got home. The sheer joy on the young boy's face as he was handed several hundred comics - ratty, old, and second hand or not - would have warmed the hearts of anyone. Anyone except the Dursleys, it seemed, who were just glad to have discovered a way to keep him quiet, and out from under their feet. As long as they gave him comics, he did all his chores quickly and efficiently, ate quietly, asked for nothing more, and created no bother whatsoever. Feeling happy about the situation, the Dursleys relaxed their stern attitudes towards him, just a little, perhaps giving him pudding on a weekend, and buying him the occasional pair of superhero action figures for his birthday - from another sale of course, they didn't care for the boy enough to buy them new. But Harry was ecstatic all the same, and come the day of his 11th birthday his discovery of his true heritage felt to be a dream come true.

Harry was excited for his 11th birthday. 2 years ago they'd given him 3 whole toys, and last year 2 toys and a slice of cake! Maybe this year would be even better! He'd been extremely good the last week, even coming out to help his Aunt in the garden in his own spare time, which had earned him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He'd started last night's washing up, before the others had even finished, and managed to both lots laundry for the past few days! He'd carefully hidden the ball of light he'd made by accident last week, gently wafting it into the corner of his cupboard and burying it in comics. He knew he'd get nothing for his birthday if his Uncle saw evidence of his superpowers again!

Harry frowned thinking over his dilemma once more. He knew he had superpowers, but he wasn't really sure what they were. It didn't fit anything from his comics after all, and they had all sorts of superheroes and villains in them. He could move objects without touching them, like Jean Grey, sometimes made small flames like the Human Torch, and had once even teleported to the roof, like Nightcrawler! He could do all sorts of things, maybe he was like Franklin Richards? But he never made things happen on purpose, and he had very little control of what happened. Letting out a deep sigh, he supposed he'd never know.

He was stirred from his musings by a strange screeching noise, followed by his Uncle's bellowing of the word "BOY!" Moving quickly, Harry scarpered out of his cupboard towards the sound of his Uncle's voice, not wanting to keep the man waiting. Vernon Dursley looked even redder in the face than normal, clearly flushed with anger and maybe embarrassment, given what looked to be feathers on his clothes. Harry raised his hands up just in time to catch the high velocity object flung at his face.

"What are you waiting for, open it so we can see what it says!" Grumbled his impatient Uncle. Realising it was an envelope Harry felt another surge of excitement. A letter, for him? And addressed to him living under the stairs? Who on earth knew about that? What could it be? Maybe a birthday card? But only the Dursleys would ever get him a card, and they didn't know what it was, and why was Uncle Vernon covered in feathers and -

"Hurry up!" His Uncles voice broke him from his rapid fire thoughts, and he hurriedly tore the envelope open, before pulling out a strange piece of paper. It felt weirdly thick and rough to be normal paper, like the parchment he got to write in at the museum he'd been to with the school once. Before he could even read the first sentence, his Uncle pulled it out of his hands, and stared at it for a moment, his face cycling through a number of expressions - shock, horror, anger, then a strange smug calmness. He began to read out loud.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress "

Aunt Petunia covered her mouth in shock, whilst Vernon tossed the letter back to Harry who reread it, feeling a happiness building up inside him. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry? That was what he was?

"I'm a wizard?" He yelled out in elation, totally forgetting himself. His Aunt gasped at his last word, shooting a terrified glance at her husband as to what he would do upon hearing the word. Her surprises of the day weren't over yet, as Vernon simply smiled, and nodded to the boy. "Yes, Harry, yes you are. And this year you'll be going away to a special school for other... wizards," he said, seeming to have to force the word, "where you'll be taught all sorts of," he twisted up his face as if in a horrific combination of pain and constipation before uttering the word "magic. We'll have someone take you shopping, then we'll drop you off at the train station, picking you up at the end of the year." His face lit up at the end, with the idea of no longer having the boy under his roof. He wasn't much trouble ever since he got his comics and toys, but it'd still be far better to not have one of 'them' living in his house, and eating his food. At some far away school where he'd be shown how to stop his accidental weirdness? That was far, far, better.

The next week was wonderful. Old Mrs Figg from next door showed them how to attach a letter to owl, showing a strange aptitude for it for someone who didn't own an owl and used the postal service, and they sent a reply asking for someone to take Harry shopping. On the 31st, Harry's 11th birthday, an immense giant of a man called Hagrid arrived to take him shopping. Harry had spent the entire journey badgering the man about anything and everything he could think to ask.

"Why are you so tall? Do you have super strength? Can you lift a CAR?" The patient man happily answered all of the young boy's questions with a great big smile on his face, at seeing Harry's enthusiasm.

"Well, you shouldn' tell anyone this, but I've giants blood! Makes me a fair bi' bigger than other people, and aye, I'm stronger' then 'em too. You know Harry? I've never tried. No' many people have cars in the wizardin' world, less so'd let me near one." He said that last part with a hearty chuckle that made Harry laugh too. He liked this big man, giants blood and all.

He was disappointed to find out that Hagrid knew nothing about superheroes, being very confused when he asked if Hogwarts was like Xavier's school for the gifted, but then again most adults didn't read comics. That was ok, Harry could always lend him his!

He learned all about the subjects, the teachers, Quidditch, Hogwarts grounds, and was just getting over his shock that dragons were real, when Hagrid chipped in with "I'm surprised yeh're not wantin' to know more about yehr parents Harry."

That sent off another round of questions, shocking Hagrid. The poor boy never even knew his parents were wizards too! It looked like it was up to him to do a lot of explaining.

Harry had learned all about his parents, and about the dark wizard Voldemort. How mother and father were a part of an elite team of heroes battling a great evil (The Order of the Phoenix was possibly the best team name he'd heard), and how they'd sacrificed their lives for the cause, and how it was him, him who'd been responsible for Voldemort's final defeat, at only 1 year old. And because of that he was famous? People all across Britain, and often the rest of the world, would know of him, and recognise him by his scar. There was even a series of books about him, turning him into an action hero! He retained a drawn out sense of shock for the rest of shopping trip, following Hagrid round the shops in a trance like state, only coming out of his daze temporarily to be shocked once more by the volume of gold he owned ("I could be Batman! Or Ironman! Or.. Or Doctor Doom! I'm rich!") until they reached the wand shop.

"Yeh can just go in there yerself Harry, Ollivanders a good bloke, he'll get yer sorted out with a good wand."

That brought Harry's excitement to a fever pitch. He'd bought spell books, potion ingredients, a cauldron even, but none of it matched this. A wand. He was a wizard, and he was going to buy a wand. After reassuring that Harry would be ok on his own, Hagrid wandered off to buy more of Harry's school supplies for him.

It was less exciting than Harry had previously imagined, flicking random wands, only for them to be yanked out his hand by the old man. Often he didn't even manage to hold a wand before it was taken from him just like the rest. He was beginning to despair, before Ollivander, in a seeming flash of brilliance, managed to pull out one more box.

"This one, now this one is something special. 11" long, made of holly, and with a phoenix feather core, no less. Nice and supple too. Try this one, my boy."

At a wave of the wand a grand crescendo of sparks, red and gold, plumed from the end, the display showering the dark shop in brilliant light. The pair, shop owner, and customer, were ecstatic at the find, and Ollivander was just about ready to close the deal when Harry frowned. He remembered all the times Hal Jordan had lost his ring, or Tony Stark ended up without a suit.

"What if I lose it?" He inquired of the old man.

"Well, we can sell you a wand holster for it, make you less likely to lose possession of it," he replied, a sinking feeling building in his chest.

"Yes, I'll get one of those. Two actually. Oh, and another wand too! A spare!" Harry looked up at Ollivander, a happy smile emblazoned across his face. The wand maker groaned inwardly, but forced a smile. Of course it was his most difficult customer who thought to buy two wands.

"Very well Mr. Potter - let's find you another wand!" he replied, forced optimism and enthusiasm dripping from every pore

It was a very satisfied Harry who left the shop. He'd managed to find a second wand much quicker now that they knew what to look for. It wasn't quite as a good a fit for him said Ollivander, but it would certainly do the job, especially as a spare. 12'', Rowan wood, Unicorn hair, slightly springy. Apparently excellent for protective charms and healing, whilst his main wand was supposed to be good for duelling and opposing the dark arts. Harry liked the sound of that. A pair of heroes wands, and he was going to prove himself to be the greatest hero the wizarding world had ever seen! He'd make his parents proud of him.

There we are! I'd appreciate feedback on the first chapter, reviews are fuel for the fanfiction fire! (God that sounded cringey as hell, I am never saying that again)