A/N: Hello everyone! I'm trying my hardest to write more detailed descriptions of scenery in my chapters. I think I'm getting better...hopefully! I know it's a little slow but I have big ideas for this story so please give me a chance! Thanks for reading ^_^
Chapter 3.
The days trickled by in almost a lazy obedient scheduled tune. Slowly, but inevitably, leaving Harry wondering if it was time to try and spice up his routine. But the cry of responsibility left Harry with little time to be inventive. 'I'll find my relief when Christmas comes' Harry mused. Oh, how he dreamed of returning to the Burrow to see his old friends. His mouth and stomach a like ached for Mrs. Weasely's home cooked meals and his magic itched to find use of itself. That's another issue Harry has been facing. Since his need for magic has dwindled in the muggle world, he noticed the considerable strain his magic felt from being trapped. Almost as if it was alive inside Harry, he could feel it squirming. Harry feared this would cause bursts of accidental magic so he started researching wand-less magic. His days were filled with work and the few hours each night he had to himself, he spent pouring over dusty volumes he acquired from American magic book stores. Supposedly, wand-less magic required an enormous amount of magic and focus. Just attempting one spell left Harry feeling drained and powerless. But safe, nonetheless.
'Captivoso' Harry muttered under his breath. For the past hour Harry had his hand hovering over a limp quill that was set on his coffee table. The veins were throbbing in his hand from straining it, as if that would help the spell. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he felt as if he was out of breath. 'Captivoso! Captivoso!' He hissed at the still quill. Defeated, he thrust himself back into his sofa and sunk in to the soft fabric. Letting out a sigh that sounded more like a soft growl he lifted his hands to his face. 'I should just go back to the magic world.' He told himself. 'No, I think you are enjoying this' a little voice hissed inside of his head. 'You devised a problem with yourself, wand-less magic, and are appreciating the goal you cannot obtain'. 'Harry Potter needs an unreachable goal. Why do you even need this? You do not...You just like a challenge.' Harry's eyes snapped open. His emerald eyes darted around his small flat. 'That's true, I came here looking for solace but that is obviously not me. I'm at my happiest when I am faced with impossible challenges'.
He flung himself off the couch and thrusted his hand outwards 'CAPTIVOSO' He roared, a little too loud, at the quill. It shuttered under his magic that was emanating off his hand, lifted a few centimeters than fell flat and lifeless back onto the coffee table.
*Tap tap tap* "Shut up over there!" Harry whirled around to stare at a blank wall as if to see something. "Sorry, sir" He called back to the blank wall. Heaving a victorious sigh, he flopped back down onto his sofa and proceeded reading the ancient scripts in a particularly dusty volume.
The following day Harry rode his bike to work as he usually did but today was different. Harry decided he was going to put his two weeks in and search for a new adventure. Harry strolled in to the restaurant and bee-lined his way to the managers office. He passed through the employee door and past the burger making station and the drive through. 'No, sir you did NOT order that with cheese' a disgruntled fellow employee tried to explain to a purple faced patron whom was parked out front the drive through window. Harry made his way past the possible argument and found himself in front of a door marked 'Manager'. He knocked then entered. Seated at the desk was a disheveled looking middle aged woman. She had thin pink glasses perched on a small nose, thick blonde hair that was knotted up in a bun, and a tie that was loose and hanging off her neck. 'Yes, Potter?' She muttered to the computer screen she was staring at. Out of nowhere, Harry started feeling nervous. 'The famous Harry Potter is afraid of quitting a dead end fast food job...I wish I could make up something funnier than this' He thought. 'What's so funny, Potter?' Nancy, his manager snapped. Harry killed the grin on his face and ventured an explanation on his visit. Nancy nodded as Harry explained his want to quit, not once taking her blood shot eyes off of him. 'Okay, Potter, I'll let you finish out this week for your paycheck then you will be let go'. Harry didn't need the money, he just felt it would be wrong to quit without notice.
Harry suited up after the talk then made his way to his spot at the fry station. The day was long and hot but now the night was setting in and the gentle breeze coming in through the drive through window was welcomed and appreciated.
'Harry! I'm going to need three large fries over here!' Yelled on of the employees from the front counter. 'On it!' He yelled back to the front. They were steadily getting busier as the night drew closer and Harry started rushing. Without realizing what was about to happen, Harry accidentally slipped while holding the fry basket, letting the basket fly out of his hands and into the boiling hot oil. Oil splatter high into the air and came rushing towards Harry with almost a vendetta. Harry raised his arms and tried to squat further down to avoid the inevitable burning oil. But before he could realize what was happening, he saw a bright light behind his closed lids. Slowly opening them, he saw the disaster he caused. Slick oil outlined him and the walls but not one drop landed on him. He gently stood back up and looked around at the scene and noticed everyone in the restaurant was staring at him with awe smacked faces. Blood pounded through his veins thump thump thump 'what the hell happened?'. Before he could figure it out for himself he noticed a couple in the lobby, who obviously saw the scene, lean in towards on another and one whisper 'Harry Potter' to the other. Everything at that moment seemed to be going in slow motion. His hand moved up to his forehead only to realize his hat was gone and his hair was askew, leaving him with a blatant lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
Fuck.