The next morning, Harry woke up quite early. There was no light at all coming from the cracks around the cupboard door, which meant that the sun wasn't up and no one else was awake to turn on the lights.

Rising slowly from his cot, Harry rubbed his eyes clear before putting his glasses on. The overhead lightbulb was still on from the evening before, casting light on his 'birthday presents'.

The sight of them brought feelings of jealousy and anger to his heart again, causing Harry to pause. He thought of his dream, and Matilda's words.

"It's weird that I can remember it, though, innit?" Harry wondered aloud. It wasn't often, if ever, that he remembered a dream with as much clarity as he did the one from last night.

She had told him that the dream was real. How could that be? Are some dreams real, and some aren't? His nightmare about the car crash was real, except it wasn't a car crash. It was the power, maybe even his own power… Feeling that sense of guilt and shame start to pull at him, he reminded himself of Matilda's words once more. Matilda said that it wasn't his fault, and to not jump to conclusions.

Well, he could certainly try not to. It was hard though. Especially when he felt upset. He remembered how angry and jealous he had felt, staring at the ashes of the now-incinerated paper bag that had held his "birthday presents". He remembered the heat in his heart. That sickening heat that made him feel so nauseous and yet powerful at the same time…

"What WAS that?" he asked himself.

He was feeling at odds with himself. On the one hand he had good reason to be angry. And the power that flowed through him felt good. But to feel that angry made him sick too. He felt a feeling he had never felt before towards the Dursleys. Throughout his life with them, he had felt sadness, disappointment, frustration, anger, shame, guilt and fear. But there was one feeling that was alien to him until now. Hatred.

He had felt hatred.

His heart had felt full of a strange kind of fuel, pumping heat through his body, alongside the pounding pulse he felt in his head, beating in time with his heartbeat.

No… Not his head. His forehead. The ache was in his forehead.

In his scar.

He needed to see it.

Getting himself together, he quickly and quietly made his way to the bathroom. He doubted anyone would be up for a while, but better safe than sorry. Once in front of the bathroom mirror, he moved his bangs and leaned in to examine his scar.

Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his scar was much more noticeable. It appeared more reddish, even slightly inflamed, as if he had suffered a sunburn. And around the edge of the scar, just the slightest tinge of green…

Now Harry didn't think himself the smartest or most knowledgeable 10-year-old boy in the world, but even he knew that normal scars did not react to mood changes. But at the same time, who was to know what should be considered normal when it came to Harry? Harry had never before noticed any changes to his scar in all the years he had lived with the Dursleys. He wondered why it would start reacting now.

Looking back at the past 24 hours, he realized how many things have happened that have turned his world upside down and sideways. Did it have to do with him turning 10? Or was it the discovery of his powers? Or was it again how he was feeling in the moment of his powers working?

There were too many possible questions, and no one to really ask for answers.

But as has become his habit in the past week, Harry asked himself: "What would Matilda do?"

Immediately, the answer came: "Go to the library!"

One thing that did occur to Harry at that moment, was that when he used his powers in the library the day before, there was no green glow. There was no raging moment of sickly green fire.

The only difference he could tell, was what he felt each time he used his powers, and how different those feelings were from one another. In the library, as in the accidental occurrences in the past, it was a deep need. Last night, it was the feeling of hate. The feeling of wanting something destroyed. And the more Harry thought about it, the less he liked that feeling.

Though there were many things he disliked about his family, such as it was, he never wished them harm. The only thing he ever wanted was to be treated like a normal boy, and not some kind of unwanted, unloved nuisance. He only wanted to be a part of a family… A real family.

The light of realization glinting in the eyes of his mirror self, Harry made a decision.

"I will never use my power when I'm feeling hateful." He vowed with a whisper, looking at his mirror twin's eyes. "These powers are for the things I need, or for helping friends like Matilda does, not for hurting people, even if I don't like them…"

Looking at his reflection, he noticed something odd. The redness of his scar was noticeably lessened compared to earlier, and the green tinge was gone as well.

'Well…' thought Harry 'that's a good sign.'

Feeling encouraged that he made an important choice, and made it correctly, Harry then went about getting ready for the day.

After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, Harry stood in front of the mirror once more, his wet raven locks still damp after toweling, and he remembered another trick he wanted to try. Closing his eyes and holding his hands on each side of his head, Harry tried to imagine what he wanted to achieve, and let his power flow from his heart through his hands and out of his fingers. He remembered the mortifying feeling he felt when Petunia gave him that awful haircut.

"Change" he commanded, and his fingers pulsed.

He opened his eyes and found himself looking at a much neater looking head of hair than before. Precisely the right length to make his scar a little less obvious, but not obscuring it completely. And the rest of his hair, though by no means tame, was no longer a crow's nest of dark hair. It laid on his head in a somewhat messy way still, but not sticking out in all directions. It rather looked like some wind had blown and swept his hair back and to his right.

"Not bad" he said, smiling at his reflection. "Maybe now, no one will think I'm homeless".

Wrapped up in his towel, he headed back to his cupboard. Closing the door, he got out some of his hand-me-downs and laid them out on his cot. Smiling to himself, Harry went about the work of shrinking the clothes a bit. Not too much that they would fit properly and cause suspicion, but enough so that he wouldn't have to belt his pants with shoe strings on top of a belt or feeling like he was swimming in his clothes. Satisfied, Harry got dressed and went about sorting out his cupboard. He realized that the more tricks he did in a row, the quicker he got tired. He had to be careful to not overdue it, otherwise he'd get in trouble for being too tired to do the chores he had to do during the day… Thankfully, he didn't feel too drained at moment, and so once done with the cupboard, he realized that he could see the sunlight peeking through the windows, which meant Petunia would be up before long. Harry wanted to get his chores done early, before the heat of the summer would make it unbearable. Hopefully, he'd be able to get back to his cupboard and read. Matilda learned a lot from reading, who knows what he could learn from books? Were there books out there that could teach him about his powers?

Harry did a quick and quiet tour of the house, mentally noting the chores Petunia would most likely assign him and began working. After about an hour, about 80% was done, and glancing at the clock showing the time to be nearly 7am, Harry knew it was time to get breakfast done.

This time, he'll be much more careful when Dudley came downstairs. He didn't want a repeat of the other day…

The morning went by without a hitch.

Careful not to get caught unawares, Harry managed to get everything done quickly and efficiently. It helped that he wasn't tripping over oversized clothes too. Before long, and with the remarkable non-event of not getting yelled at by anyone for anything, having come to pass, Harry was feeling pretty good.

After all these years of living with the Dursleys, he might finally have hope of building a normal life for himself.

For the rest of the summer, the pattern repeated itself. Harry would get up earlier and get all the chores done that he could, being careful to make it as impossible as possible to avoid getting in trouble. Any time the Dursleys were away from the house, Harry took the opportunity to take the books he had finished back to the library and exchanged them for new ones.

He had in fact managed to retrieve some of Dudley's old, unused books, and exchanged them in the library for his own copy of Matilda. Her book had a place of honor in his cupboard, sitting proudly on the little rickety shelf in the side of the cupboard wall that faced the interior. This made it visible to Harry when he laid down in his cot, but out of the eyeline of Vernon, unless his uncle poked his walrus head into the cupboard and looked to his right.

Matilda was a constant companion, helping him keep his spirits up even when the Dursleys did something to try and bring him down. She also helped him remember his goal. To find a way to better himself and help those who deserved it. And so, he kept reading, kept learning, and kept testing his powers carefully.

A big breakthrough came when he figured out how to multiply his meager food allowances. With a command driven by hunger, he told the meager serving of cold cuts on one slice of bread to "Multiply", and it did. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was actually feeling full most days.

Not having to sleep on a hungry stomach did wonders for his energy in the mornings and throughout the day. He was even able to use his powers more often in the day. Not only that, but as the summer went on, Harry noticed that his modified clothes started to fit a little better every week naturally. Looking in the mirror after his morning showers, Harry noticed that his knobby knees were becoming less and less knobby. He found that he could run even faster than he could before, easily managing to outpace Dudley's gang in their weekly Harry Hunts. It even started becoming sort of fun… Watching those boys huffing and puffing and they tried to catch him, with no success. He didn't even have to use his powers!

And with his improved health, his mind improved as well. Harry found himself reading for longer and understanding more when he did. His ability to focus on whatever he was doing seemed to improve as well.

Over the course of the summer, Harry managed to get through many of the books Matilda did, though not all. He learned much about a lot. The stories he read about other orphans who managed to make a life for themselves, like Oliver Twist, and Pip from "Great Expectations", as well as the Pevensie children in Narnia, inspired him to keep trying. Like Matilda, there were many parts of some of the older books that he didn't quite understand, but he figured he would one day.

His attention in the library, however, was directed elsewhere. He was looking for an answer to where his powers came from. He was worried about asking Ms. Atwell directly about that, as he didn't want to slip up. And so, he spent many hours looking for such a source, with no proper answer presenting itself. All the books that he found were either marked 'fantasy' or were books about the illusions that magicians make with sleight of hand. Though entertaining, and indeed, somewhat useful, as he started practicing some of the sleight of hand movements, they didn't really provide conclusive proof to his question.

Finally, he found comic books. A never-ending array of characters with powers of all kinds. He loved the stories, and found them really entertaining, but he still knew they weren't real. The closest character he could find that could do what he did was Zatanna the sorceress, who spoke backwards to make magic happen. But he didn't need to speak backwards. Could it be that what he was doing was literal magic? He couldn't find a concrete answer to that question.

Funnily enough, he thought he figured out Matilda's powers. Matilda was a line-of-sight telekinetic, who could move more than she'd be able to physically. Telekinetic was a fun word. He learned a lot of words like that from the books and comic books he read. Psychokinesis. Teleportation. Telepathy. Molecular manipulation. Exoskeleton. Matilda, as usual, was right. Reading was one of the best things he could do to improve himself. And with comic books, he also got pretty cool pictures too!

It had been the best summer Harry could remember having.

And as far as Harry could see, even the rapidly approaching school year could not dampen his outlook. He had re-read Matilda several times, and her infectious optimism passed to him. Despite a life of disappointment, he started to believe again. He thought that with everything that happened, and everything he has learned, and with the changes he has undergone, he could make a brand-new impression on his classmates in his final year of primary school.

Who knew, maybe he would actually find friends…