This was written for the One Prompt, Many Fandoms Monthly Challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. The prompt used here is wings.
Spending hours of his time locked inside a tiny cupboard, with no other way to occupy his time, led a young Harry Potter to find more creative ways to occupy his time.
He coloured and drew with old crayons and paper of Dudley's that he occasionally managed to snatch when he didn't want them anymore.
That and daydreaming were his two favourite activities to pass the time.
Combining the two tended to happen quite often as a result, the young child trying to recreate his dreams on paper.
Sometimes, Harry dreamed of being able to fly.
He dreamed of flying motorcycles, owls and broomsticks at times, but then sometimes, he also dreamed of flying on his own with his own pair of wings.
Their appearance changed at times but his favourite pair to imagine was a pair of white, fluffy feathered wings that unfurled from his back and straightened out when he flapped them to take to the skies.
He giggled softly to himself as he tried to recreate the image by the dim light inside of the cupboard.
His drawing looked like a typical six year old's, with a few wonky lines here and there and bright colours all over.
A little stick figure boy, with a mess of black hair atop his head, green dots as eyes and a little jagged line on his forehead to represent his scar and little Harry was represented on paper.
As he drew on the wings, he imagined the places that he'd fly if he had wings.
He wanted to fly to all the places his teachers talked about sometimes in class. They sounded like wonderful, interesting places to visit with lots of good food. The Dursleys didn't like these 'foreign foods' for some reason Harry couldn't understand (not that he got much of any type of food in the first place), but he wanted to try them.
He wanted to see Paris, Madrid, Cairo, New York, Beijing... and so many other places that not only the teachers talked about, but some of his classmates had been to on holiday as well.
But as Uncle Vernon wrenched open the cupboard, saw what he was drawing and ripped it to shreds right in front of him, yelling horrible, hurtful things at the little boy who began to curl into himself, Harry's thoughts were that what he wanted a pair of wings for the most was to fly away.
Somewhere far, far away from here, to find a family that would actually love him.
