When the Dursleys returned later that evening, and woke him up from his sleep, Harry had to pretend to be desperately needful of the toilet. Running as quickly as he could to the loo, Harry deftly avoided Dudley's attempt to trip him, as well as managing to ignore Dudley's jeers of "Don't pee your pants Potter!" to the sounds of Vernon's loud guffaw. Closing the bathroom door behind him, Harry took a moment to marvel at the fact that Dudley managed to alliterate, before going about his business in the bathroom. After washing up, Harry listened at the door carefully before risking coming out. Hoping to avoid any attention, Harry tried to hurry back into his cupboard.

"Boy!" barked Vernon from the kitchen.

Harry froze.

"Come here" came another bark.

Keeping his eyes down, Harry walked into the kitchen, stopping by the doorway. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon handed Harry a brown paper bag. "Take this to your cupboard and stay there".

Not questioning it, Harry took the bag, hurried back to his cupboard and closed the door. Turning on the overhead light-bulb, Harry looked in the bag. Inside he found a store-bought corned beef sandwich wrapped in a smudged, seemingly used napkin that said "Happy Birthday" on it. He also found an old coat hanger and a pair of clean, albeit old and worn pair of Vernon's socks.

Harry sat down heavily on his cot, surveying his 'birthday presents'. He felt conflicted. On the one hand, this was probably the nicest thing they've ever done for his birthday, and he even got a sandwich! They even acknowledged that today actually was his birthday… He should be elated. Years ago, when he was even smaller, he would have given anything to be shown a bit of kindness from his family, to see some sign from them that he was worthy of appreciation.

Now, on the other hand, Vernon's gesture seemed like a mockery of what birthdays with a family should be like. Like they wanted him to remember that he wasn't really a part of their family, but instead some unpleasant parasite they were foisted with. They reminded him of all the ways they did not treat him nearly as well as their own Dudley. They never gave Dudley a coat hanger… A bitter taste built in the back of his throat. Jealousy and bitterness started to build in his chest. His head started to pound in time with the surges of heat from his heart. Harry's heart felt on fire. A sickly heat that made him feel heady and nauseous at the same time. His hands tightened around the now empty paper bag, crumpling it into a ball. With a surge of heat and power rushing through his arm, Harry threw the paper ball at the cupboard door, his anger and pain coursing through his arm to give it unnatural strength. As the ball flew from his grasp, a sickly green fire extended itself from his index finger, engulfing the paper ball and incinerating it in the millisecond before it would have hit his cupboard door.

Harry stared at the door, his eyes momentarily blinded by the flash of fire. His shock causing the heat in his chest to disappear.

What just happened?!

Harry looked down at his hand. His index finger had a green glow to it that was quickly dissipating.

The green glow seemed very familiar to Harry. Wracking his brain, Harry tried to remember why that color seemed familiar.

.

.

And then, he remembered.

A bright green flash. A sickly green color, wholly unlike the vibrant, living green of his eyes. And a sharp pain in his forehead.

The car crash. The moment his life had changed forever. This was a nightmare that he had had since the one time he tried really hard to remember his parents. A vision that he never understood.

Until now.

It wasn't a car crash. It was this power. Did someone do this to him? Did someone else, who has this power as well, hurt his parents? Is that why they died?

Suddenly, a terrible fear filled his heart. His stomach sank.

"Was it me?!" he asked himself. "Are my parents dead because of me?!" A wave of pain and anguish washed through him, shattering the tiny reserve of self-esteem he had built up.

"I'm not special… I killed my parents…" he whispered to himself, crying silently into his hands. No one had come for him when his parents died. Somehow, he had ended up with the Dursleys. His father's family must not have wanted him. And why would they? It all made sense now. He had killed his parents with this power, and whoever found him could not find anyone in his proper family to take him in as a baby. They obviously didn't tell his aunt and uncle about how his parents really died, or they never would have taken him in either.

He laid down on his cot and curled up tight, trying to hold back the tears and the sobs from escaping. Even now, overwhelmed by his pain, he knew he couldn't break the rules of the Dursley house. He mustn't show how much it hurt.

But he couldn't stop the silent tears from falling.

Despite the 8 hour nap he had had earlier, he felt overwhelmingly tired again.

He looks over to his stack of books, the ones he had borrowed from the library earlier today, and sees Matilda sitting on top of the book pile again, as cheerful as ever. Would Matilda be his friend if she knew him? He didn't have any friends at school, but over the last week, as he got to know Matilda in the book, he kept daydreaming about what it'd be like to be friends with Matilda or someone like her. Someone brave, and smart and kind. Would they even want to be friends with a freak like him? What would Matilda tell him if she was there? In his imagination, Matilda steps out of the book cover, and fixes him with a disapproving frown. 'Is she angry with me?', he wonders. She looks his own age, but her eyes look intelligent and wise far beyond her years.

Then something unexpected happens.

In his mind's eye, Matilda asks "Why do you think you're a monster? You've never intentionally hurt anyone, so why would you think that you did this?"

"But… the green light… That was me…" Harry replied weakly.

"That's a big leap, Harry" said Matilda "have you so little faith in yourself, that you'd think that your baby-self would be blamed for an accident? And that's assuming you were actually responsible…"

"But then, why was I left here?" pleaded Harry.

"I don't know, Harry, and I'm sure you'll find out one day. But I do know one thing…" she said soothingly "it was not your fault."

"How do you know for sure?" asked Harry.

"Because you were a baby, Harry" Matilda pointed out "you had no idea, and no control of what was or wasn't happening."

"I've never heard of anyone shooting green fire from their fingers, who else could it have been?" He shrugged.

"Well Harry, if there were people who could do such things, would they talk about it, or keep it a secret?" asked Matilda with a knowing smirk. "Did YOU tell the librarian about what you could do?"

"Ummm… no, I didn't" admitted Harry. In a flash of inspiration, he realized the truth. "Could it be I'm not alone?! I'm not a freak?!"

"Well, Harry, do you think I'm a freak?" asked Matilda.

"No, you're wonderful! You always help people!" answered Harry earnestly.

"And you do too, Harry, even without realizing it" replied Matilda kindly.

Harry paused. His heart seemed lighter somehow at her words. But he still remembered that sickly heat in his heart, rushing through his arm and incinerating the paper bag in a flash of green fire.

"Why do you think the color of the fire, and the color of the green flash are so similar?" asked Harry. Matilda was the smartest person he knew, and if anyone could figure it out it would be her.

"Harry, I'm only as smart as you are, which is plenty smart" said Matilda, seeming to read his thoughts. "After all, you brought me into this dream from your own mind."

"This is a dream?" he gasped. "If this is a dream, then that means you're not real?" asked Harry despondently.

"Sure, it's a dream, but why would that make this any less real?" answered Matilda with a knowing look.

"You have a sharp mind Harry, if you choose to use it. As long as you learn to be careful in judging the ideas that come into your head, you will figure things out. Don't give in to despair, and don't blame yourself for everything. Be fair with yourself. I believe in you."

With that, Matilda came closer and hugged Harry for a few seconds. He was enveloped by a sense of peace that had never felt before. He can figure things out. He will find out what is happening to him, and what he can do to make his life better.

"Now sleep Harry, and remember that you can be the person that you want yourself to be."

That night, for the first time in a long time, Harry had no nightmares.