A\n: Here's the first chapter.
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger Chapter one: You only live twice.
Pain filled his body as he connected with the bumper of the truck, and knocked forwards. The truck, still moving, the first set of wheels came across his chest. His consciousness dwindled for a second, before all was black.
Harry had no clue how much time had passed when he came to. He knew it hadn't been long. A small crowd of people had gathered around him. He heard sirens in the distance. Harry did a mental test. His breathing was normal. He could feel his whole body. Slowly, Harry stood up. The crowd around him gasped and tried to convince him to stay where he was. He had been laying in a pool of his own blood, yet Harry didn't have any cuts on him. WAIT! He did! His left hand burned something horrible. He examined it. A large piece of glass was sticking out of his hand. Without a second glance, he pulled out the glass. Then he did a double take. It was healing! Slowly, yes. But it was still visibly healing. Harry kept that hand from view. His "regeneration" wasn't as rapid as it was in Muggle TV or movies, but it was still significant. Harry kept tabs on the hand, and would glance at it every minute or so to see how it was. After fourteen minutes, the three inch long, 1\2 inch deep cut had completely healed, and he could walk. Harry picked up his trunk, and walked away. 'What happened back there?' Harry thought 'I should be dead!' Harry suddenly felt a rush of energy through him. It was like someone supercharged his body. Harry had a rush. He sprinted the remaining distance between where he was and Mrs. Figg's. Jogging in place, he rung he doorbell.
The door creaked open.
"What took you so long boy? I've been." Mrs. Figg trailed off.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!? HOW DID YOUR SHIRT GET SO BLOODY?!?" She demanded
"Calm down. I'm fine." Harry assured her "Not a scratch. I fell and cut my chest open on a broken bottle. A medi-witch found me and patched me up. She had an ID card and everything." That was a lie, but he couldn't tell her the truth. Not over that incident. He should be dead.
"Oh. OK. " She said, letting him in "Change that shirt."
"OK." Harry replied
Soon the fire roared, and he was in the fireplace of the Burrow.
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger Chapter one: You only live twice.
Pain filled his body as he connected with the bumper of the truck, and knocked forwards. The truck, still moving, the first set of wheels came across his chest. His consciousness dwindled for a second, before all was black.
Harry had no clue how much time had passed when he came to. He knew it hadn't been long. A small crowd of people had gathered around him. He heard sirens in the distance. Harry did a mental test. His breathing was normal. He could feel his whole body. Slowly, Harry stood up. The crowd around him gasped and tried to convince him to stay where he was. He had been laying in a pool of his own blood, yet Harry didn't have any cuts on him. WAIT! He did! His left hand burned something horrible. He examined it. A large piece of glass was sticking out of his hand. Without a second glance, he pulled out the glass. Then he did a double take. It was healing! Slowly, yes. But it was still visibly healing. Harry kept that hand from view. His "regeneration" wasn't as rapid as it was in Muggle TV or movies, but it was still significant. Harry kept tabs on the hand, and would glance at it every minute or so to see how it was. After fourteen minutes, the three inch long, 1\2 inch deep cut had completely healed, and he could walk. Harry picked up his trunk, and walked away. 'What happened back there?' Harry thought 'I should be dead!' Harry suddenly felt a rush of energy through him. It was like someone supercharged his body. Harry had a rush. He sprinted the remaining distance between where he was and Mrs. Figg's. Jogging in place, he rung he doorbell.
The door creaked open.
"What took you so long boy? I've been." Mrs. Figg trailed off.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!? HOW DID YOUR SHIRT GET SO BLOODY?!?" She demanded
"Calm down. I'm fine." Harry assured her "Not a scratch. I fell and cut my chest open on a broken bottle. A medi-witch found me and patched me up. She had an ID card and everything." That was a lie, but he couldn't tell her the truth. Not over that incident. He should be dead.
"Oh. OK. " She said, letting him in "Change that shirt."
"OK." Harry replied
Soon the fire roared, and he was in the fireplace of the Burrow.