Disclaimer: Guess what, guess what, guess what! I woke up this morning and I was like all J.K. Rowling-like! But it went away at lunch, so I'm not Mrs. Rowling anymore.

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Yay! it's past 9:53, and I can post...

I'd write more, but I have a Cho-burning ceremony with VixenMage!

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CHAPTER EIGHT: very strange split-personality flashback

FLASHBACK

Harry was standing in a somewhat skimpy maid outfit, doing some kind of a dance in front of the pleased eyes of Mrs. Dursley. He stepped delicately on the couch and grabbed a pillow, playing with it. He then starte-

END FLASHBACK

Harry thumped his head, jerking it as though trying to dislodge water from his ear. "Erm…sorry…didn't want you to see that-"

Herm and Ron said nothing, mouths agape and eyes bulging, staring at HarryRingo. Herm backed her chair away from the table slowly, and Ron scooted closer to Seamus and Neville, who were talking about the empty seat at the teachers' table- the defense against the dark arts seat.

Harry coughed lightly and pretended to ignore the two.

FLASHBACK

A view of Harry dusting pictures of several peach beach-balls could be seen. A tear made its way down Harry's pale cheek. It was very sad, after all- having no baby pictures of himself. No family trips to the beach for Harry; no family reunions for the most famous boy in the wizarding world.

Harry straightened, shoulders back, face grimly set. As uncle (um…a different uncle…I think…) had always said, "'With great power comes great responsibility.'"

Oh, life as Peter Parker is ever-so-miserable.

What?

He thought about this all day.

While making sandwiches for the family picnic (which he was no part of) he sighed, replaying his (other…?) uncle's last words in his head over and over again, staring off into space as he off-mindedly peeled grapes.

As he began working on Petunia's "To-do before we get home and abuse you list" his thoughts ventured to his (other) aunt, who had been so depressed after his (other) uncle's death. If only he had done something to stop it.

Oh, life as Peter Parker is ever-so-miserable.

Um…Harry…?

He checked off #47 "wash maid costume," and began on #48, "clean master toilet." While putting on plastic gloves and beginning to wash what the Dursleys' called a toilet-but seemed more like a pot of scum to Harry, his thoughts drifted once more, this time to his only true-love.

Oh, life as Peter Parker is ever-so-miserable. If it weren't for Mary-Jane I wouldn't have made it this far. It's all for her. He repeated in his head. It's all for her.

Er…Harrrryyyyy…

And when the two fat men and sickly thin woman came home that day, Harry's thoughts ran away from him yet again as he stared out the window absently while doing the dishes.

How will I win my love? How will I prove to my best friend that I am loyal and did not kill his father? Or would not have if he weren't an idiot trying to take over the world. And if he didn't wear green. I've never liked green. Makes me think of scum and…nasty poison ivy.

Erm…Harry!

And so went the rest of his day: making dinner, cleaning windows, snipping hedges, washing more dishes, all, of course, with frequent intervals of (um…displaced) self-pity.

He had no rest until he was brushing his teeth that night with an old tooth brush of Dudley's. Better disgusting old spit going into your mouth then cavities that couldn't be cured until he returned to Madame Pomfrey's, eh?

Oh life as Peter Parker is ever-so-miserable.

Oh dear God…

He absentmindedly shot a spider web at the plastic glass sitting on the moldy tile floor. He badly needed water.

What the hell! My spidey-string isn't working! Shitoki mushrooms! I must be going through one of those phases when it goes on and off, again.

Harry, I think you're getting a little confused…

He sighed, pulling his shirt off over his head, revealing some well-defined muscles. Yes, doing chores is good for your abs.

At least I'll still get all the chicks when I get back to Hogwarts…

Harry, stop.

He tossed the shirt on his bed, and began changing into his pajamas.

Chicks really dig Abercrombie & Fitch on guys he thought, incorrectly, pulling on some blue striped pajamas (Insert lengthy description of pajamas here.). I wonder if that shirt's A&F? Hmmm...

Good God, Harry! Stop it!

He walked over to the bed and picked up his shirt. He searched for the label, first in the sleeve (Peter Parker just wasn't that smart), then the inside, and (aaaaah…) finally the top area near the collar. There was no tag, but there was some weird inscription in permanent marker.

"H-A-R-R-Y P-O-T-T-E-R," Harry spelled aloud.

An epiphany came to him. He remembered. No wonder the spidey stuff wasn't working. No wonder his crush on MJ was seeming to fade off. He wasn't Peter Parker! He was H-A-R-R-Y P-O-T-T-E-R!

Sigh Well spotted, smart one…

"Now that's just down-right spiffy!" smiled Harry. Life made much more sense now.

END FLASHBACK

"And that…is how I found my identity," whispered Harry dramatically, leaning in towards Ron and Hermione. His expression was intense, his eyes twitching in…um…seamless acting ability occasionally. Hermione had scooted closer during the flashback, trying to get a better look at Harry's stomach, which he was inconspicuously trying to puff out and pull his shirt in onto just a bit tighter.

Ron's ears turned the slightest of pink. He was jealous of Harry's impressive abdomen. He was jealous of that, but even more of Hermione's interest in Harry's stomach.

Ron had self-esteem problems. At the moment he thought he needed to work out. He was right.

"But… that's not all that happened this summer," said Harry, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. Not that it really mattered, because it was a flashback.