Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman
Chapter 2
Trial and ErrorHarry stepped out into a warm autumn afternoon. The sun shown down on Privet Drive, the birds sang, and Harry at last had his freedom to come and go as he wished. All was right with the world. With a huge grin and a spring in his step, Harry set off towards the park where he figured there was enough space that he could practice his new abilities away from prying eyes.
Harry looked at the trees again. A few cool nights in the past few weeks had started some of the leaves changing color. That wasn't surprising. What was surprising was that Harry could see individual leaves on the trees, instead of large amorphous blobs of color. Looking down the length of the street, Harry realized that he could see sharply defined shapes with clear colors over a hundred yards away. He realized that he probably hadn't notice the difference in his vision inside, because of the shorter distances.
Whooping with joy, Harry broke into a run. Harry didn't know why all of these changes had happened, but he couldn't believe how wonderful he felt. He was strong. He was fast. He could see!
In seconds, Harry reached the edge of the park. He darted straight for the opening in the hedgerow that faced Privet Drive. As soon as he was through the opening, and into the darker gloom of the shade from the trees and out of sight from the street, Harry made a prodigious leap. This part of the park was evenly spaced, old growth trees. Although it was considered manicured, that merely meant there was no underbrush, and that the lowest branches on the trees were twenty feet off the ground. Harry's leap sent him flying straight upward, and he caught the lowest branch.
Under his breath, Harry exclaimed, "Wicked! I wonder what else I can do?"
Slowly at first, Harry started leaping from tree to tree, branch to branch. Soon, he was going faster and faster, higher and higher within the treetops. He kept it up for over an hour without getting out of breath. Finally though, his arms and legs began to protest a bit, and he promised himself that he would stop soon.
Harry latched on to the topmost branch of the tree that had been his latest target, swung in an arc towards the next tree while pulling his legs under him for another leap. As he started his leap, he felt the branch sway too much. The branch had been too thin to withstand the force of his leap! He didn't get nearly enough push to make it to the next tree! He was going to fall short!
To Harry, time seemed to slow down. He had plenty of time to contemplate his fate. He was in the very tops of the very large trees, at least sixty feet off the ground. His leap was taking him over the branches of the tree he had leapt from, but would only get him as far as the outermost branches of the one he had been targeting! This was not good! He didn't even know if he could survive a fall from so high up!
He saw one chance. If he could arrest his fall by grabbing some of the smaller branches, maybe he could swing to some of the larger branches closer to the tree trunk and catch himself in time. Time, Harry was still perceiving time oddly. His head first plummet still seemed to be in slow motion. So, as he saw the first tiny branch he could reach coming into range, he reached out with one hand and grasped it.
The tiny branch wasn't even a quarter of an inch in diameter. Only a few leaves extended beyond his hand, and in slow motion he saw the branch start to bend, and his body's momentum start to change, before the branch snapped off. The change in momentum did swing him a bit closer to the tree trunk, but it also swung him into a tumbling spin. Harry considered his new flight path, and tried to pick the next branch that he could reach that he could use to get closer to the bigger branches.
It didn't look good. The only prospect wasn't going to come within reach of his hands, just his right foot. He could touch it with his foot, but even he couldn't grasp it with his toes, especially since they were in his trainers! Then he remembered that he had been able to walk on the ceiling in his trainers, so like Spiderman, his wall walking powers would work regardless what he was wearing. He could simply will his foot to stick to the branch!
As his foot neared the branch, he willed it to stick as hard as he could. He tried to estimate how far the branch would bend before it broke, and where that would send him next, but even with plenty of time, in his odd slow motion state, he couldn't be sure. This branch was slightly larger than the first one he'd reached, and as soon as his foot stuck to it, it too began to bow. Harry watched the branch bend, holding his breath unconsciously. It bent nearly double before breaking with a loud crack.
Harry fell with a piece of the branch still sticking to the bottom of his trainer. He took in the new direction of his fall with growing panic. He'd accidentally hit a gap, where no branches would come within his reach!
He fell ten feet with his mind racing. Harry knew he was picking up speed, and the ground was still thirty feet below. He fell another ten feet, and flashed passed one of the largest branches of the tree, tantalizingly just out of reach.
He thought, "If only I could spin webs like Spiderman does!"
Harry was stunned by the thought. Then, he grinned. He aimed his hand toward the large branch and wished desperately that he could shoot webbing. Suddenly, a tight strand of webbing shot from the heel of his hand toward the branch. When the webbing hit the branch, it splashed outward slightly and clung. With a huge whoop of combined relief and joy, Harry grasped his end of the webbing with both hands and swung on the end of it.
Once he had gained enough upward motion to reach another large branch in the tree, Harry released the webbing, spun into a flip, and landed on the branch. He stared at his hands in wonder and began to chuckle. He just had to talk this over with himself.
Harry said, "Ok. I have another power like Spiderman. I wonder if I can do as many different things with webbing as he can? He could make a wide web, like a trampoline, thick webs that were very strong, or just keep spinning webs to completely wrap up a target. Also, I wonder how long my webbing lasts? The bigger or thicker the web, the sooner it dissipated. Hopefully, my webbing will behave the same. After all, I don't want webbing hanging everywhere for years. Well, time for more experiments!"
Harry climbed swiftly back to the treetops, where he couldn't be seen from below. He began shooting webs. Each time, he merely had to think what he wanted to have the webbing do, and it did so flawlessly. He made thin webs that he connected to the tree he was standing on, creating a spray of pathways to nearby trees. Then, he connected a wide web below, connecting all the nearby trees, so that it would serve as a safety net. Finally, he concentrated on making the thickest strongest web he could and shot it at the nearest tree trunk.
Harry wondered just how strong his webbing was. He made sure that his feet were anchored to the tree branch he was standing on and began to pull on the thick strand he'd just made. Surprisingly, to Harry at least, the webbing stretched. He kept pulling, the webbing kept stretching, and it got harder and harder to pull. Without warning, the bark on the branch Harry was stuck to suddenly ripped off the branch. Before he could let go, Harry was snapped forward with tremendous speed, right towards the trunk of the tree that the thick web had been attached to.
Time seemed to slow down for Harry again. This time though, he was still moving swiftly. He didn't have much time to decide what to do before he slammed into the tree. With both hands, he spun a wide web between major branches of the tree he was headed for. Then, he spun around and shot a web back toward the tree he'd been yanked from.
With growing dismay, Harry watched the webbing shoot back toward the tree, and instantly he knew he was moving too fast and the webbing was moving too slowly for it to reach in time. Even with his slowed sense of time, he barely had a chance to regret his mistake before hitting the safety net he'd placed in front of himself. He felt it slowing him down, but not enough! It stretched as it slowed him, but he still slammed into the tree so hard that he left a Harry shaped depression stripped of bark.
Unconscious, Harry's body peeled off the tree and started to fall. It was nearly forty feet to the ground. Harry hit several branches on the way down, but the last twenty feet was clear, and he plummeted into the ground with a loud thud and lay motionless.
Carrie Bowman was taking the shortcut to the park playground from her house on Magnolia Crescent. As she skipped through the trees, she heard a crash high in the trees, followed by more crashing through the branches then a loud thud nearby. She stopped in surprise, and not a little fear.
To hear her own voice, Carrie said, "What was that?"
The thud had come from her right, some ways off the path she normally used to get through the woods in the park. She started cautiously towards where she thought the sounds had come from. As she came around the trunk of a large tree, Carrie saw a young boy lying on the ground, unmoving.
With a gasp of dismay, she darted to his side and fell to her knees. She didn't know what to do! If the boy had made the noise falling from the tree, he could be badly hurt, or even dying!
At first, Carrie didn't recognize the boy, since his face was half covered in blood, leaves, mud, and some sort of sticky threads. He looked as if he were about her age, and then she saw he was the boy she'd led to class on Wednesday. She hadn't seen him since that day. His big, fat, ugly, mean cousin had told the teacher he was home with the flu. She leaned closer for a better look.
Harry was his name, she remembered, and now he had a big knot on his forehead, right next to a big lightning bolt shaped scar. Both of his eyes were swollen and turning black. His nose was flattened and bent. There wasn't as much blood as she had thought at first. He only had a tiny gash touching his old scar.
She sat back on her heels. What should she do? He didn't seem to be in too good of shape, but he wasn't moving, and she couldn't carry him. Staring at him with concern, Carrie saw a dim blue glow growing around the bruises on his face. Her eyes shot wide, and she scrambled back, only to fall on her bum feet away. The dim glow grew brighter and brighter, and got larger and larger. Before she could move again, the edge of the glow touched her foot.
A sense of peace and safety swept through her. Carrie felt wonderful! No longer afraid, she crept back to Harry's side. As she moved into the blue glow, she felt better and better. She reached out, and gently touched his face. Consciousness fled, and she fell to his side. Their faces were inches apart, and her hand was cupping Harry's face.
Harry groaned and opened his eyes. All he could see was a tousled mass of dark brown hair. He felt warmth on the side of his face and turned his head to find a small hand. Harry pulled the hand away from his face and sat up. He wobbled a bit as various aches and the pull of stiff muscles threw him off balance.
Looking down, Harry saw a young girl wearing jeans and a sky-blue t-shirt. Her dark brown hair once had been pulled back into a ponytail, but most of it had pulled loose now, and had fallen around her face. What was she doing here? And why was she unconscious and lying next to him?
Harry couldn't see her face. So, he let go of her hand and gently brushed the hair away from her face so he could see it. To his surprise, she was the girl that he'd met the first day of school. She was in his class, but he couldn't remember her name. That he couldn't remember her name, made him feel a bit sad, since she had been nice to him. Harry was worried. Why was she still asleep or unconscious? What had happened?
Harry remembered playing in the treetops, and the experiments with his webbing. He looked up and couldn't see any remnants of the webs he'd spun, but there, high in the tree, was a spot where the bark had been knocked off. Is that where I hit? He thought in wonder. How was he even alive, after a fall from that height?
Harry looked down at the cute girl. He examined her face, closely. When he'd met her at school, his vision had been so bad that he hadn't been able to make out any details, even from fairly close range. She had an oval face with high cheekbones, a wide mouth with full lips that must look wonderful when she smiled. She didn't have a mark on her, so Harry decided to try to wake her up.
Gingerly, Harry touched her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. He said, "Hey. Wake up, please."
The girl's eyes flickered open, unfocused and distant at first. Soon though, her eyes came into focus and swept up to meet Harry's concerned look. She sat up suddenly.
She gave a little frown and demanded, "What happened? What did you do to me?"
Taken aback, Harry rocked back on his heels and raised his hands defensively. He quickly answered, "What did I do to you? What do you mean? All I know is that I fell and hit my head!"
She moved closer "Fell? I guess you fell! I heard you crashing down out of the trees and hit the ground hard! Then, when I came to see if you were all right, you started glowing!"
"Glowing?"
Eyes flashing in anger, she leaned close, and demanded "Yeah! It started as this dim blue glow around your bruises, but kept getting brighter and brighter and bigger and bigger! Then, when I touched you, it knocked me out! So, What did you do to me?"
Harry's eyes flew wide. He had no idea what she was on about. He ducked his head and said weakly, "I don't know."
Carrie looked closer. His face was still covered in dried blood and mud but most of the leaves had fallen away. Her eyes opened wide as she realized his nose was no longer flat and crooked, the huge goose egg on his forehead was gone, and his eyes were no longer swollen and black!
In wonderment, she asked, "How did you do that? You had two black eyes, your nose was flat and crooked, and you had a big goose egg and a cut on your forehead. Now, they're all gone! What did you do? Was that what that glow was?"
Harry stammered desperately, "I, I don't know!" He clenched his fists and fought back the tears. This was stranger than his Spiderman powers. Even Spiderman didn't glow! What was happening to him?
Seeing the hurt in his eyes, and the tears brimming in his eyes, Carrie did what she always did for her little sisters when they felt bad. She pulled Harry into a hug. He stiffened and didn't hug her back, but she thought that was just because he was being a stupid boy. Harry started to sob uncontrollably, and she felt his hot tears falling on her shoulder. She patted him on the back then pulled back so she could look him in the eyes.
Harry pulled away and tried to cover his face. He didn't want her to see him crying like a baby. Gently, Carrie pulled his unresisting hands down then clasped his face in both hands.
"Harry, you might not remember my name. It's Carrie, Carrie Bowman. I want to be your friend."
She paused when she saw hope in his eyes. She guessed he'd expected her to make fun of him for crying. So, she brushed his tears off his cheeks, and smiled. Carrie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Then, she said, "Don't worry. It is just strange, not bad. I mean, you were hurt and now you're not. That can't be all bad, now can it?"
Harry flashed back to all the beatings he'd taken at the hands of his relatives. Sometimes, he'd been so hurt he couldn't move, but always, the next day he'd been able to do all of his chores. He gave Carrie a tentative smile.
"You know what Carrie? You're right! I think this has happened before, but I was always unconscious and never saw any glow!"
Carrie smiled, but she thought it was strange that Harry talked as if him being knocked unconscious happened all the time. Until today, Carrie had never been unconscious except when sleeping. She shook her head, and when she did so, she saw with disgust that there was a leaf tangled in her hair. She stood and brushed herself off, and then pulled her hair towards her face and raked the leaves out with her fingers. When she finished, she pulled off her hair band, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the hair band.
Harry, too, rose and brushed himself off as best he could. He didn't have nearly as much success though because he was covered in dry caked on mud. One critical look at Harry, and Carrie grabbed his hand and led him off.
She didn't even look back, as she said, "Come on, Harry. Let's get you cleaned up."
Carrie led them back to her small, well-worn path through the woods. Harry didn't care where they went, as long as her soft, warm little hand held his. They came out of the edge of the forest facing the swings of the playground, but Carrie angled off to the left towards the privies. When they got there, she didn't even slow down and led Harry into the Women's side of the restrooms. Harry balked briefly, but Carrie flashed him a glare and gave a tug on his hand, and so he meekly followed her in.
She marched them both over to the side-by-side sinks and finally released his hand. Harry felt at loss until he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he'd been dragged down ten miles of bad road. He glanced over to Carrie, and saw her already splashing water on her face, trying to scrub the smudges away. With a sigh, he turned on the water and did the same, but without pausing every few seconds to glance at his reflection. He didn't have to, since every square inch of his face and most of his hair had been covered in grime.
For several minutes, the water Harry splashed on his face came off reddish brown, the color of dried blood and mud. When the water began to run clear, he cupped his hands and trickled water into his hairline. Again, the water ran brown. Finally, when the water was mostly clear, Harry stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His messy black hair was matted down, and his clothing was filthy, but at least his face, hair and hands no longer looked like he'd been rolling in the mud.
Carrie had already finished with her cleanup. When Harry finished he turned to her with a grin.
"There! All better now," he said.
Carrie shook her head with a grimace.
"No, no! This will never do! Those clothes look too big, so they're probably play clothes. But still! What will your mum say now that you've ruined them?"
Harry froze, then turned away, blinking tears from his eyes.
In a flat, halting voice, he managed to choke out, "My mum and dad both died when I was a baby. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin." Then, he continued in a flash of anger, "And these are my best clothes! They never buy me anything! I have to wear Dudley's old clothes!"
Carrie saw the pain, sorrow, anger, embarrassment, and despair flare up in her new friend's eyes. With a gasp she leapt towards him and pulled him into a hug. This time, he squeezed her back before she pulled away.
In a rush, Carrie blurted, "I'm sorry Harry! I didn't know! Please say you'll forgive me?"
Harry gave her a tentative smile. Then he reached for her hand.
"How could you know? I don't like to talk about it. In fact, you're the first person I've ever told. There wasn't ever anybody to listen, before."
Carrie squeezed Harry's hand, and said brightly, "Well there is, now! Come on. Let's go to my house. Maybe my mum can do something about your clothes."
Her wide, friendly smile, and her tiny, soft hand gave Harry an unfamiliar warm feeling. In a daze, Harry followed as Carrie retraced her steps through the woods and the gap in the hedge. Finally, they turned onto a path the led along the backyard fences of the houses on Magnolia Crescent. When they came to a well-maintained privacy fence with a gate, she opened it and entered. He followed her into what must be her backyard.
Immediately Harry was overwhelmed, by the sounds of two little girls' laughter, by the riot of floral colors, and by the sense of peace and harmony that seemed to flow into him from all directions. He stopped to try and understand what he was feeling, and why. The difference seemed to be the amount of loving care that had been lavished on this place, though it was not the precise, orderly, close-trimmed regimentation of the Dursley's yard.
Feeling a tug on his hand, Harry followed Carrie up a stepping-stone path that wended its way through a huge flower garden. This time of year, not much was blooming, except for the hardy Mums, and a few surviving Canna Lilies. A low hedge of Dwarf Burning Bushes were already turning their scarlet best, at the border between the flower garden and the rest of the back yard.
Two younger, black haired girls were chasing each other around the yard, giggling madly. The smaller one, had curly hair, and the bigger one had straight hair. Harry glanced at his friend's hair, and there was that warm feeling again. Blinking away the distraction, he finally noticed that Carrie's hair was neither straight nor curly, but in between, with long waves.
While Harry was lost in contemplation of his new friend's hair, two little bundles of energy came running over. Carrie introduced her sisters, Lana the four-year-old with the long straight hair, and Lisa the three-year-old with the middle length curly hair. Seeing them all together, he saw that they all had a deep golden, almost Mediterranean complexion, with a smattering of freckles widely scattered over their bodies.
Just then, a tall slender woman came out onto the huge redwood deck. Carrie dragged Harry through her sisters and rushed them up the steps to meet her mother.
"Mum, this is my friend Harry. He's in my class at school. I just found him in the park, but he's ruined his clothes," Carrie said in a rush.
Carrie's mum bent to one knee and pulled her into a hug with a chuckle. When Carrie ducked her head in embarrassment, her mum made it worse by planting a big kiss on her cheek. Carrie tried to rub off the wetness of the kiss and flushed, making her mum laugh warmly.
Harry watched in fascination. The only example of how a family behaved that he'd ever had was the Dursleys. Compared to the easy affection, gentle teasing, and obvious love he was seeing here, it was a distinct contrast with the stiff formality, screaming tirades and obvious loathing that his relatives had always shown him.
Mrs. Bowman held out her hand to Harry, and said in greeting, "Hello, Harry. Pleased to meet you. Why don't you come inside and we'll get you cleaned up. OK?"
Harry took her hand, and said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bowman, and thank you."
"What a little gentleman you are, Harry. Well, come along," she said as she stood gracefully.
Still holding Harry's hand she pulled him towards the patio door leading in from the deck. Carrie grabbed his free hand as he passed. Harry watched Mrs. Bowman's slender body as she opened the sliding door. She looked much younger than his aunt. Instead of being gaunt, with a prominent nose on a horse-like face, and no grace, as was his aunt; she was beautiful, lithe and graceful.
As soon as she had them all inside she turned and placed both hands on her hips.
"OK! Both of you! Out of those filthy clothes, right now. I'm not having you tracking mud all through the house," she said firmly, but with a big smile.
Harry ducked in embarrassment. Nobody had seen him in his underwear since he'd been forced to bath and dress himself over two years ago. Trying to ignore how he felt, he toed off both shoes and skinned his oversized shirt over his head without even unbuttoning it. At the moment of truth, Harry turned his back to them and unbuckled the belt holding up his pants. His pants fell to the floor.
He was so self-conscious; that he thought the gasp he heard was because his horrid clothes, or his stick-thin body, or worse yet, his gray, stained underwear disgusted them. He shuddered and clamped his arms over his chest, head bowed. Two gentle hands fell on his shoulders, and urged him to turn around.
A gentle voice spoke, "Oh, Harry! How did you get so many scars and bruises?"
Harry's lip trembled, and he choked on a sob. Warm arms pulled him into a hug, and he cried shamelessly, cradled in caring arms for the first time in his memory.
Harry started awake and sat up. A warm thick blanket fell to his waist as he sat up on a big overstuffed couch. It was nearly dark outside. Harry looked around the room in the growing gloom. It appeared to be a cozy den. Much used, comfy furniture, an inviting hearth, and a row of large windows facing out over the back yard.
Harry spotted a pile of clothes on the coffee table. They weren't his clothes though. He held up the collared knit shirt, and it looked like it would fit him better than the Dudley hand-me-down he had been wearing. So, he pulled over his head. He pulled on the jeans and snapped the snap. They didn't fall down! They were the first pair of trousers he'd ever worn that didn't fall down without a belt! There was even a pair of socks that didn't have any holes!
Ready to face the world again, Harry headed for the double doors and the light beyond. He opened the door and blinked to let his eyes adjust. He could see Mrs. Bowman working on dinner in the kitchen with her back to him, and a large, lanky man with three little girls cuddled on the couch. Since no one had heard or seen him, Harry headed into the kitchen to help out.
Harry stopped a step behind and to the right of Mrs. Bowman, and said, "What should I do to help?"
She gave a small shriek and jumped a foot in the air, and came down clutching her hands between her breasts. She looked at him with wide eyes, and seeing him flinch away, she forced herself to calm down. "Harry, you just startled me! I'm not angry. I just didn't even know you were there. It's OK. Oh! Those clothes fit you much better, just run in and sit with the girls until dinner is ready."
Harry started to turn to do as she asked, but then asked, "Where did you get these clothes? They do fit me. But I thought you just had girls, so why do you have boys clothes?"
"Well, my little brother, Jake, is off to University now. Those are his old clothes. My mother kept everything. When she passed last year, we just packed everything and stored it here in the garage. Now, off with you. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."
"Thank you for letting me borrow these clothes, I'll get them back to you tomorrow, after I wash them," Harry said.
"No, you don't understand, Harry. You can keep those clothes. Plus, we have a lot more that you could have, since we were just going to throw them away or donate them anyways. We just never got around to going through all of that stuff. After all, the girls wouldn't be caught dead wearing boys' clothes. Now, go! Dinner isn't going to make itself," she said, brandishing her wooden cooking spoon, but with a wide smile belying her threat.
Harry started towards the living room. He saw that the girls were watching some Disney movie with their dad. The little one, Lisa, sat on his lap, and the two older girls cuddled up against both sides. Harry hesitated, since he didn't know Mr. Bowman, but then, decided that if he had a wonderful wife and daughter like Carrie, he had to be a good man.
Harry stepped around the couch and Carrie saw him. She leapt to her feet, grabbed Harry's hand and said, "Dad, I'd like you to meet my friend, Harry."
Mr. Bowman had corded muscle that moved smoothly as he set his youngest daughter by his side and stood. Harry looked up to meet his gaze, then looked up some more. Mr. Bowman was over two meters tall, and didn't look to have any fat on his well-muscled frame. Harry gulped, but stuck out his hand.
"Hello, Mr. Bowman," Harry managed.
Mr. Bowman carefully took Harry's tiny hand in his huge one.
Mr. Bowman smiled and said, "Hello, Harry. I think we need to have a talk before dinner. Let's go into the den, OK?"
Mr. Bowman ruffled Carrie's hair and told her to watch the movie with her sisters and led Harry back into the den. Carrie gave Harry a look of concern, as he seemed worried and reluctant to follow, but follow he did.
As Harry reentered the den, he saw the room as it was meant to be, glowing with warm light. Mr. Bowman was standing before the windows facing the back yard, with his hands clasp behind his back, slowly clenching and unclenching both hands. He seemed to be barely controlling his rage. Harry knew rage! He saw it most every day. Harry shot straight from worried to a 'fight or flight' response.
Mr. Bowman whirled, eyes blazing in anger, but seeing Harry step back, he blew out his breath and held up both hands, placatingly. He said, "Harry. I'm angry, no, make that enraged about what my wife told me, but not at you. But at that fat pig, your uncle! I didn't fight to protect this country, just so useless sacks of dung like Vernon Dursley could abuse a little boy!"
Harry didn't know what to say, and didn't know if he could have managed to speak through the huge lump in his throat, anyway.
"Harry, we need to get Vernon put away. We need to get you out of that house, to safety. No helpless young child should have to worry about safety, but it is my duty, no my privilege, now that I know about this, to report it to the proper authorities."
Harry shook his head tears brimming in his eyes, but still not trusting his voice. Mr. Bowman stepped closer and bent to one knee. He pulled Harry into a hug and let him cry.
After a moment, Mr. Bowman asked, "Harry. Son, can I take a look at your back? From what my wife told me, you've been subjected to long-term physical abuse bordering on torture or even attempted murder. It is not your fault. Can you show me?"
Harry let the big strong hands turn him and raise the back of his new shirt. Well, it wasn't a new shirt, but it was new to him. He heard Mr. Bowman's breath catch, then felt a gentle touch trace each of his scars. It took awhile, there were so many. Finally, Mr. Bowman tugged his shirt back down.
"I won't ever let him hurt you again, Harry," he promised, with a catch in his deep basso voice.
Harry spun to face him and looked at him searchingly. He said, firmly, "Don't worry Mr. Bowman. He can't hurt me any more. Besides, if you report him, what would happen to me?"
Harry watched Mr. Bowman's face, as puzzlement, concern and dismay all fought for preeminence. He protested, "But Harry, you're only five years old, and he outweighs you six to one or more! I admit, I'm not sure where you'd end up, but any place where you aren't being tortured regularly has to be an improvement!"
Harry thought furiously. How could he explain? Did he even want to stay with the Dursleys? Would leaving them be a good thing or not? He had an arrangement with his aunt, at least. He had gained his freedom, and there was nothing his uncle could really do about it. But did he want to tell this family about his newfound abilities? Could he trust them?
With his thoughts in such a whirl, Harry temporized, "Mr. Bowman, could you and your wife walk me home after dinner? Then, you can see the changes. My uncle doesn't dare treat me badly, now."
Gray eyes looked searchingly into green. Mr. Bowman saw the surety and the confidence, but didn't understand how it could be.
He huffed, "Okay, Harry. We'll see. Now, let's go eat."
Harry enjoyed the meal. The food was great! The chatter of the little girls entranced him. Even the messes and spills taught him that not every error need be corrected loudly or violently. They just needed to be cleaned up, with a gentle admonishment. He had never had such an enjoyable meal.
After dinner, Harry said goodnight to each of the girls. He was surprised and a bit embarrassed when all three of them gave him hugs and kisses on the cheek. Harry and Mr. and Mrs. Bowman walked down to the far end of Magnolia Crescent and turned onto Privet Drive. When they reached #4, Harry stepped up on the stoop and rang the doorbell.
Aunt Petunia answered the door, and seeing Harry slipped outside. "Where have you been Harry? Vernon is in a right state. He's been going on about you destroying the house and injuring him."
Mr. and Mrs. Bowman shared a puzzled look. Just then, Vernon bellowed from inside, "Is that freak back at last?"
Harry looked back to see Mr. Bowman's mouth set in a grim line. He plead, "Please, Mr. Bowman. Let me take care of this."
They heard heavy steps with an odd clumping sound, and Vernon threw the door open. He was using a cane with one hand, and holding a fireplace poker in the other. His eyes were bulging. He was so angry he was practically frothing at the mouth.
Vernon Dursley's walrus like mustache billowed with ever word. "What are you doing here? I would have thought that after destroying my house you would be in jail! No! Jail is too good for you! The doctor says my bits might never work right after what you did to me!"
Vernon stepped onto the stoop and raised the poker above his head, meaning to smash it down on Harry. Mr. Bowman had just started to dart forward to intercept the blow, when the poker slashed down.
Harry had had enough. If the only thing Vernon understood was force, then force was what he'd get. As time slowed for Harry, he waited until the poker had arced down into his reach. Then, he reached up and caught the poker and stopped its descent, instantly. Vernon was still trying to comprehend what had happened and Mr. Bowman was still moving forward, when Harry yanked the poker out of his uncle's hands.
It took a couple of seconds for everyone else to realize what had happened. By then, Vernon was just beginning to back up towards the door, and Mr. Bowman was standing behind Harry, looming menacingly.
Harry poked his uncle's huge roll of fat with the poker and said, "Go inside and sit down, Uncle."
Mr. Bowman whispered, "How did you do that, Harry? You moved so fast, I could barely see it!"
Harry merely motioned for his aunt and the Bowman's to precede him through the door. Harry urged everyone to sit, and then began, "I don't know exactly how this happened to me. Have you ever heard of the comic book hero Spiderman?"
When everyone shook their heads, Harry went on, "Well, he was supposed to have been bitten by a radioactive spider which gave him tremendous powers. Strength, speed, agility, and the ability to walk on walls." With that said, Harry leapt upward in a half flip and landed on the ceiling and clung with his feet.
Vernon's eyes bulged wide in shock, and a bit of fear. Aunt Petunia had seen him demonstrate some of his abilities, but was still startled into a gasp. But the Bowman's, the Bowman's were simply stunned into immobility and silence!
Harry hung there for a moment more, then crouched and placed one hand on the ceiling and released both of his feet and hung by one hand. He then did a flip off the ceiling and landed on his other hand in a handstand on the floor. He was facing his uncle and had a huge grin plastered on his face.
With another deft half-flip, Harry was standing facing his audience once more. He said, "I didn't get bitten by a spider. I just wished I had Spiderman's powers. Now, it seems, I have them! So, uncle, you can't hurt me any more. I don't want to hurt you, really. I just want to be left alone. I'll even do some of the chores around here, just not all of them."
Mrs. Bowman finally found her voice, "Harry, that is amazing! But don't you want justice for all the pain this wretched man has caused you?"
Vernon gulped as he saw the look of malicious glee come over his nephew's face. He waited for his reply with a healthy dose of self-interest and fear.
Harry said, gleefully, "I said I didn't want to hurt him. I never said I didn't want to extract a bit of justice!"
Vernon Dursley moaned in fear, then rushed for the guest bathroom and lost the huge dinner he'd just eaten.
Edited By TeNderLoin