Chapter 2
Harry woke up from his slumber by someone shaking him awake with an urgency one usually saw if one's house was on fire.
"Harry, Harry," his mysterious assailant kept repeating, her voice louder and louder with each repetition, "Harry, wake up or the matron will yell at you again."
Matron, a part of Harry's mind supplied him, Name: Amelia Taylor. Age: 45. Head of St-Paul's Orphanage on the outskirts or New York City.
Harry blinked his eyes open, a little disturbed. How on Earth did he know that? And what had that voice been?
"Oh Thank god." There was a shuffle and the face of a pretty young girl in her late teens entered his sight.
Jocelyn Times. Age: 17. Orphan. Likes: The violin. Dreams: Becoming a concert musician.
Harry stared at her, the feeling of both knowing her intimately - she had been one of the first to have befriended him when he had been dropped off at the orphanage 15 years ago - and not knowing her at all - Harry was sure he had never seen this girl before or been in this room before now that he thought about it - battling it out in his consciousness, quickly giving him a massive headache.
"Are you day dreaming again?" Jocelyn sighed in exasperation and pushed him off the bed, the height not significant enough to hurt him other than bruising his butt. "Get up, you big slob. And clean up your room for God's sake."
Harry looked around the room and took in the randomly discarded pieces of clothing all around the floor and winced. When had this room gotten so messy?
Because you were too lazy to clean up after yourself…
That voice again…Where were these new thoughts coming from? Was he going crazy? Had the stress of constantly being on the cutting edge of scientific discovery finally gotten to him and was making him hallucinate? His mother had warned him about this, but Harry hadn't thought this moment would come so soon.
Oh well…I had a good run.
"Harry!" Jocelyn suddenly grabbed him roughly by the arm, pulling him upright with a strength that would probably surprise any man in this situation, just in time for the door of the small bedroom to open with a bang. Harry watched with explainable nervousness as a middle-aged woman wearing an austere black dress entered the room.
"Harold." She glanced from Jocelyn to Harry, her expression extremely disapproving. And when she finally spoke again, it was to Jocelyn. "Jocelyn dear, don't you have a recital practice to go to? You don't want to be late."
"Yes Ms. Taylor," Jocelyn answers politely before sweeping out of the room without another word, her skirt bellowing around her legs as she moved. She did however send Harry a good-luck look before disappearing around the corner.
"Harold," Ms. Taylor turned her attention to Harry, her eyes cold, "I am here today to discuss with you your options once you come of age next week."
Harry didn't say anything to that - mainly because he has no idea what to say - and simply stared at her, his mind staying quiet for once.
"As you well know," Ms. Taylor continued, "St-Paul's Orphanage can only shelter you until your 18th birthday. After that, it will be up to you to find your way in this world. Normally, I would suggest higher education to all my children, but since you dropped out of high school-"
"I did what?" The words were out before Harry could even control himself.
Did this woman just say what he had thought he heard? Dropped out of high school? Him?
Harry could understand - somewhat - dropping out of university since not everyone had the aptitude for higher education, but high school? How could anyone be dumb enough to drop out of high school? It was high school for goodness sake; it was just a period of transition between childhood and adulthood; it wasn't meant to challenge you academically or teach anything you would need later in life; most teachers left that part to college professors.
"Yes," Ms. Taylor repeated, "High school. Did you bump your head on something to cause you to forget an event that had just happened?"
Was that a touch of concern in her voice or was Harry thinking too much?
Probably the latter.
"Ms. Taylor," Harry took a deep breath to fortify himself. Even if this was an hallucination - and Harry was still going with this explanation because anything else was going to make his head explode - this was going too far. Harry refused to be known as the kid who dropped out of high school, even in his own mind. "Is there anyway I could re-enroll?"
This took Ms. Taylor by surprise.
"You would want to?"
"Yes," Harry nodded emphatically, trying to make himself seem as earnest as possible. "I realize now that my previous decision had been made without fully considering the possible consequences of my actions. I want to make up for my temporary lapse in judgment. I want to finish my degree so I can become a productive member of society."
"Well Harold," Ms. Taylor's expression finally relaxed and a small smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards. She looked beyond that, a little shocked by his speech. "I don't know what had gotten in to you to have made you sound so eloquent and mature but I have say, I am extremely happy to see it happen."
She patted him on the shoulder with one gentle hand.
"I have a friend working in your old high school who still owes me a favor. If you are lucky, you may even get back to your classes just in time for Mr. Stark's visit."
"Mr. Stark?" Harry repeated a little unbalanced. Who was this Mr. Stark and why was she saying the name as if it was someone important? "Who is this Mr. Stark?"
"Oh Harry," Ms. Taylor laughed, shaking her head, "Don't joke around like that. Of course you know who Mr. Stark is; Anthony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and member of the Avengers."
Now I know this is an hallucination, Harry thought to himself, Otherwise, there would be no way to explain how the characters from my favorite comic books are suddenly real in this reality.
