Ch. 4 – Experiments

Harry sat down at the little comfy seat and pulled one of the little tables closer to him. He took out his notebook and pen and sat quietly, thinking… How would Matilda figure this out? She would be careful. And she'd take it one step at a time.

'I need to make a list of all the weird things that have ever happened to me' he thought. 'Maybe they didn't happen to me, but instead I made them all happen.' Going through his memories, he managed to think of a few instances and wrote out a list.

Opening the Lock on the cupboard

Regrowing his hair after that terrible haircut.

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head.

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang.

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue.

Looking at this list, Harry realized something interesting. 'I'm not like Matilda…' he thought. 'Matilda can move things, but she has to see where they are and where they are going… Re-growing hair, or shrinking the sweater wouldn't be possible at all' he thought with growing trepidation. 'Matilda may have turned her dad's hair platinum, but she didn't use her powers for that… How did I turn Mr. Conch's wig blue?'

Sitting there, he was gripped by a sudden fear. Was he actually a freak? Were they right all along to call him that? After all, normal boys couldn't and wouldn't do anything like what he has done… Was he a monster? His mind awhirl, Harry's eyes started shifting back and forth rapidly, his anxiety ramping up. A yellow book catches his eye. Matilda sits there on the cover, blissfully reading her books. Harry's heartrate slows down. Matilda wasn't a freak. Matilda was special. And she wasn't a monster. She was a heroine. She helped people who deserved it, and even some people that didn't deserve it. She was good.

Harry wasn't a freak either… The Dursleys were wrong. He was special. He may not be as smart as Matilda. He was okay at maths, but he couldn't do the 14 times table by heart like she could when she was only 5. But if his list is right, his gifts were different and more varied.

Looking down at his list again, he wondered aloud "what can't I do?"…

He thought of all the instances on his list and realized, like he had earlier with the lock, that in each event he was feeling an emotion very strongly.

Next to each item on his list he wrote the emotion he could remember feeling:

Opening the Lock on the cupboard - Feeling trapped.

Re-growing his hair after that terrible haircut. - dreading the shame.

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head. - Same fear of shame.

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang. - Being desperate to not get caught by Dudley's gang. Wanting to get away to somewhere safe.

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue. - anger. He was angry at that teacher for making fun of one of the student's haircut. The teacher deserved to be embarrassed himself.

'Yes.' He thought 'this makes sense'.

Every time, he was feeling strongly about wanting something to happen. In fact, in all of the cases but with the lock, he didn't even speak his wish… Clearly, he didn't have to speak out his wish to make it happen. But did it make no difference at all? The only time he intentionally caused something to happen was when he spoke. Was that the difference? Doing things unintentionally required a higher degree of need, whereas if he wanted to make something happen in less dire straits, he had to speak his wish?

"I have a lot of things to explore" said Harry to himself quietly. He knew he had to narrow things down. Would wishing his backpack to open without touching it be the same as opening the lock on his cupboard?

"Well, I better start trying" he mumbled, glancing at his backpack.

Looking around himself, Harry saw that there was no one around. He set his backpack down on the ground, hiding it between himself and the table, and closed all the zippers. Looking around again to ensure no one was watching, he turned to the backpack and summoning all his will, imagining that he needed something in the backpack desperately, he looked and the backpack and said "Open". He felt a brief pulse from within his heart spread out into his arms, through his arms and out of his hands.

All the zippers on the backpack zipped about half way open all at once.

'Well, that's interesting' thought Harry. 'Why halfway?' he wondered. 'The lock on the cupboard opened all the way when I told it to.'

Zipping the backpack closed once more, Harry considered it carefully. There were three sippers on his backpack. There was only one lock that was locked on his cupboard door that morning. Was it just an issue of numbers? Or was what he focused on different? He thought about the pulse he felt. It felt as though whatever this was, came out of his hands. He wouldn't have noticed it in any of those accidental incidents as he was too pre-occupied with the emotions he was feeling at that particular moment, but it seemed like in his case, his power preferred to travel through his hands, rather than his eyes like Matilda.

Looking at his backpack once more, Harry stretched his hand out towards it and focused on the backpack. Paying attention to his feelings while letting himself feel the need, he spoke once more. "Open". He felt the pulse travel from his heart through his right arm, and he felt it was definitely more concentrated. His arm almost vibrated as he spoke.

All the zippers on the backpack zipped fully open all at once.

"YES!" He whooped. 'Oops' he thought immediately. 'Hopefully, no one will pay attention'.

Looking around quickly, he made sure no one was looking at his direction. Luckily enough, it seemed that this early in the day, there weren't many patrons at the library. Ms. Atwell must have still been returning the books she was sorting as well.

Looking at his list, Harry decided to amend it once more.

Opening the Lock on the cupboard - Feeling trapped. - "Open"

Regrowing his hair after that terrible haircut. - dreading the shame. "Grow" ?

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head. - Same. "Shrink" ?

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang. - Being desperate to not get caught by Dudley's gang. Wanting to get away to somewhere safe. "Disappear""Fly" ?

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue. - anger. He was angry at that teacher for making fun of one of the student's haircut. The teacher deserved to be embarrassed himself. "Change" ? "Switch" ?

He thought that there must be a command word for each of his abilities, but he struggled to come up with ones that would work for some of what he wanted to do.

"Might as well try the ones I can try here in the library" mumbled Harry to himself. Looking over his list again, Harry tried to judge which ones he could try here. He decided that growing his hair, or trying to disappear and reappear somewhere else would not really work here. The other two though… Those he could try.

Ripping out a page from his notebook, he placed it in front of himself on the table. After thinking for a moment, he decided to place his backpack on the table as well, to hide the paper a little bit. Once again, he pointed his hand towards the piece of paper, he willed it to become bright green.

"Switch!"

The now familiar pulse surged through, and the previously white piece of paper became bright green, the same shade he saw when looked at the mirror in the morning. Thrilled, Harry tried again.

"Switch!" now imagining it to be the color of his raven hair.

And black it became.

Eager to keep exploring, Harry tried shrinking it next.

"Shrink!" he commanded, imagining that the paper was a note from his teachers at school that he was meant to give to the Dursleys.

The paper shrank to the size of a postage stamp.

Feeling a sense of elation that he could not ever remember feeling, Harry stood up.

Immediately he felt a wave of dizziness and lightheadedness overtake him. Suddenly feeling drained, Harry collapsed back into the seat.

'Whoa… ' he thought 'that made me feel really sleepy all of a sudden… I've got to get back, or else I'll fall asleep here and won't make it back in time.' Looking at the clock mounted on the wall, he saw that he had already spent two hours there and it was a little past noon. He could not risk not being back in his cupboard when the Dursleys returned.

Gathering his things slowly, Harry packed his backpack. Gathering his wits and his will, and fighting an overwhelming urge to fall asleep, Harry stood and headed over to Ms. Atwell's desk. She wasn't there. Looking around, he saw her heading back to the desk with several books in her hands. She smiled as she looked up and saw him waiting. He smiled in return, glad that someone thought he was worthy of a smile, and not a grimace or frown.

"Here are the books you wanted Harry. I apologize for taking so long to grab them for you, there were a lot of books to return to their homes on the shelves" said Ms. Atwell apologetically.

"Oh… Please don't apologize. You've helped me loads already." Replied Harry sincerely.

After checking out his books, Harry bid Ms. Atwell goodbye and left the library.

He thought for a moment of trying to disappear and reappear at 4 Privet Drive. But then thought better of it. If changing the color of the paper and shrinking it took it out of him, what would teleporting 2 miles do?

Walking as briskly as he could, given how tired he felt, Harry tried to stick to a route that reduced the risk of being seen by Dudley's gang or by any nosy neighbors. He did NOT want word of his trip out of the house to get back to the Dursleys.

Luckily for Harry, he made it back in a relatively short time, and by half past noon was back at Privet Drive. After putting down his backpack with his books in the cupboard, Harry headed to the kitchen. After pouring some water for himself, he sat down at the kitchen table and took a moment to reflect on the momentous events that took place today.

'I am gifted. I am not a freak.' He thought to himself with no small amount of wonder.

After eating some of the leftovers he had packed earlier, finishing his water, and using the loo one more time, Harry headed back to his cupboard. He decided he would read Matilda's story again until he fell asleep. He was sure the Dursleys would be "kind enough" to wake him up when they got home.

Settling down on his "bed", Harry started to read with the light of the sun shining through the open door of his cupboard.

'Wait, Harry' he thought to himself 'the door can't be open when they get back! It has to be closed and locked. What am I going to do?'.

Looking at the book in his hands, Harry smiled.

'Are you gifted or not?' he thought to himself. 'I should have enough energy for one more little trick…'

Closing the door with his hand, he then pointed said hand at where he knew the lock was and said 'Lock!'

.

.

.

Click.

And though Harry was again locked in his cupboard, he had never felt freer.

"Happy Birthday Harry!" he whispered to himself "Told you it would be the best ever…"

Feeling even more tired now, Harry laid down and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep. For the first time in a long while, Harry's dreams were not only of desperation and sadness. He also dreamt of the hope of freedom.

He would not remember this dream for a long time, but in his dreams, he was flying a motorcycle through the clouds.