I am so sorry it's taken so long just to post this chapter. However, I have been extraordinarily busy as of late. I am hoping to post more chapters later in the Christmas month.

Please let me know what you think.

Harry Potter - The Spider-Man Burglar.

Fortunately word of the incident with Miss Ross hadn't reached the Dursleys; he didn't know if it was because the teachers had been so humiliated they had wanted to save face or some other reason which was typical of this miserable dump that was Little Whinging, but the surprising thing was he had not heard anything from the neighbours who would have spread the gossip around, and it would have only been a matter of time before Vernon beat him up again.

But nothing had happened.

Harry guessed the kids had been so let down by the drama they hadn't seen the point, but he wasn't going to tempt fate. Another thing he had done was to avoid committing any more thefts and selling them off at the school. Just because Miss Ross had been humiliated in front of the whole school and he'd been let off the hook did not mean it would be the end of it since the teachers at the poxy school were keeping an eye on him, only this time they were more vigilant. Harry knew they didn't want to be humiliated like their colleague, not that he really cared. But still, they were keeping an eye out on him even more nowadays, fully expecting him to steal food or cash.

They needn't have worried.

Ever since that incident in the hall, Harry he had simply told the kids he sold Dudley's old, discarded toys to he wasn't going to do it anymore for a few weeks until the heat had died down, in the meantime he would find other places where he could sell them without Miss Ross, who had doubled her

Harry Watch, as he called it. Fortunately, they had listened, although he hoped they hadn't been completely spooked.

He needed them.

He needed them far more than they needed him. The more money he had, the more he could use later in life, so he could use it to get away from the Dursleys, and never see Number 4, or Little Whinging ever again.

Harry was spending most of what free time he had in the library. It was quiet there, and since the librarian had no reason to bar him since he always returned the books back to the places they came from and treated the place with the respect it deserved, she left him alone. He didn't know how she felt about him being in the library, and he didn't care.

He was enjoying reading the books in the library, and he had picked up a great deal. Reading had always relaxed him and given him the chance to let his mind wander, but it was a pity the Dursleys didn't particularly like books for some reason Harry had never really worked out in Aunt Petunia's place since the woman, although shrill and not incredibly bright, wasn't thick.

The books represented freedom; a fiction novel could spirit him away to other places pictured inside his head, a detective story could place him in the middle of a crime scene, where he would slowly think through the crimes, and identify the murderer. A romance novel - just because he was a boy didn't mean he was completely unhappy with the thought of broadening his mind, although the genre was gross in places. Science-fiction and fantasy worlds could help him see fictional worlds and times where humans were either still knights, fighting vampires or werewolves, or were speeding across space and time, visiting new worlds, battling for empire or exploration.

But the time he spent in the library gave Harry the time to think.

It had been three weeks since the incident with Miss Ross, and the teacher was literally drooling with the desire to find something incriminating on Harry. He had decided to wait for a short amount of time before he continued with his operation to sell Dudley's junk for some profit, all saving up for the day when he could move out, and hopefully find something, some way of making something of his life without being reduced to the level of a homeless guy.

Harry shuddered at the thought, and he had no intention of doing that. While he had no problem with stealing from his classmates, he baulked at the thought of failing school. He had no intention of allowing that to happen. He wanted to get good marks, he wanted to become someone, hopefully, move out of the dump that was Number 4 and get rich enough to maybe change his name to get away from the Dursleys in case they came after him, hoping to get some of his money.

Again, that was not going to happen, not if he could help it; unfortunately, he had no idea how he was going to ensure it didn't happen.

Harry rubbed his eyes and continued to read, but the bell rang. He sighed and stood up, wincing from the cramp in his feet. He hobbled around a bit and took deep breaths before the cramp was gone, and he put the book back and left the library.

Miss Ross glared at him when he walked in, almost a few minutes late; he didn't particularly care about coming in late or early, Miss Ross would find something to moan about. He had learnt it quickly, but fortunately, the woman had toned down her endless harangues. She was still a little bit cowed by what had happened, and she didn't want a repeat of the humiliation. But now she was looking for proof of his wrongdoings. Harry mentally snorted and wished the stupid woman would find something a little bit better to occupy her time with.

The trouble was he knew she wouldn't; the woman was as bad, if not worse, than Aunt Petunia, who was constantly looking for something to use against him. Harry wished he could just count down the days until he could finally just say goodbye to these people, and just leave. He breathed out through his nostrils even as he worked on a maths question.

Just leave.

Runaway.

He had, naturally, considered it many times, and yet something kept stopping him. He didn't understand it since he hated the Dursleys, and they brought him nothing but pain and misery. Why would he want to stay with them?

And yet, a weird voice in the back of his head…it kept saying the Dursleys are your family, they care for you. Why leave them? No, don't go, stay. You are safe…

Harry couldn't believe he would think that about the Dursleys. He hated them, the feeling was mutual. He shook his head and returned his mind to the task in hand. He worked at a reasonably good pace while he did his level best to keep his true intelligence showing; just because Dudley was not here did not necessarily mean the Dursleys wouldn't punish him for getting a few marks higher.

Personally, Harry had reached the point where he didn't care, although he knew he would need to change his attitude if he found a way of getting away from the Dursleys, and into a different school where no-one knew him or knew anything of his past, but he was prepared for that. But at this point, he knew he would need to keep up a pretence while he barely hid his disgust for everyone around him.

When the day was over, Harry picked up his bag but Miss Ross called him back. He closed his eyes and mentally counted to seven to rein in the urge to shout at her.

"What can I do for you, Miss Ross?" he asked dutifully, doing his best to sound at least interested in whatever it was the boring woman was going to say to him this time.

The teacher looked daggers at him. "I don't know what you're doing, but I've got my eye on you. All the time."

Really? Oh, if that were the case then why aren't you seeing me being shoved into that many time damned cupboard under the stairs? Harry asked himself but he didn't say a word.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," Harry smiled politely, deciding to wind her up a little bit although he hoped she wasn't petty enough to tell the Dursleys about it.

The woman looked like she was about to breathe fire on him. "I know you're a thief, Potter. I will be watching you-."

"Oh, yes, like you did last time?" Harry snapped, losing his patience and temper with her.

"You were acting oddly."

"What, and you think I was committing thefts? Why don't you people get the facts before you accuse someone of something?" Harry snarled, his anger making him reckless. "You got done in, remember, and I hadn't done anything wrong. I don't understand what you've got against me. Any of you. I never did anything to you, and yet I am humiliated all the time. Teachers watching me each day. If you've really got a problem with me, then get on with it and tell me instead of suspecting me of everything that goes wrong? I'm going now, and I really really don't care what you think about that."

Harry turned around and walked out, but when he got out he closed his eyes and cursed. I really shouldn't have done that. But what's one more beating?

It was a morbid thought, and not one anyone Harry's age should be thinking. But he couldn't help it.

XXX

The next beating he endured had nothing to do with the teacher, or even the school. It was just one of those days where Vernon, along with Dudley, both felt they couldn't get through a week without their fix. Harry was unable to go to sleep during the night because of his injuries, and he lay awake for ages.

Harry didn't have a watch or even a clock, so he couldn't even tell just how long he had been lying there, and how late it was, but he had heard the Dursleys trudge upstairs, Dudley had performed his usual stomping ritual on the stairs before his mother told him to head to bed and leave him, the freak, alone. After that, he had listened through the close wooden walls of the cupboard the sounds of the Dursleys getting ready for bed before finally closing their doors. He'd heard a few mutters from Vernon, but beyond that, he hadn't heard anything barring the usual snores from Vernon and Dudley.

Harry had tried to get some sleep himself, but he was in too much pain and each time he tried, he would move and he would be jolted back awake again.

I'm safe here, am I? Safe with these evil savages? They're animals; I don't feel safe with them, doubt I ever would. Harry closed his eyes, tired of mocking the weird inner voice in his mind which always played that stupid thought where the Dursleys loved him, and he was safe here.

Mocking an inner voice was going to do nothing for his current health, but there was nothing else he could do. Harry wished he were somewhere else, somewhere other than this filthy cupboard, with its dust, the dirty mattress and the dirty sheets covered with all kinds of germs and God knew what else.

Oh, if I die here now…I will definitely hope I meet those useless bastards who're my parents. I wish sometimes I had died in that car crash, at least then I wouldn't have been brought here. Is this a sick idea of hell, just drop me off on the doorstep of a family who've got dubious connections with my own, and then let them beat me around.

The thought made the anger Harry had always buried deeper and deeper within him, while he wished he could open the door of his dungeon, and he was surprised when the lock slid backwards and the door opened.

Harry gaped with shock at the open door and the bliss of seeing he had the downstairs floor all to himself. But how had it happened? He slowly and painfully unfolded his body, and he crept out of the cupboard slowly, fully expecting to see one of the Dursleys outside in the hallway, waiting for him, and ready to yell in alarm. But there was no-one there. Harry hobbled painfully through the house before he went into the kitchen and he gently turned on the tap. He was about to reach for a cup or a glass, but he realised quickly if he touched any of them then he would need to clean it thoroughly so then the Dursleys wouldn't find out; he knew if they found out what he had done, breaking out of the cupboard, they would likely kill him this time around.

Harry sighed and cupped the water in his hands and took a few gulps. He did this again and again until he felt he had drunk enough for tonight. But as he returned to the cupboard, he wondered how he was going to lock it. He remembered how angry he had been with the Dursleys for beating him, and yet at the same time, he'd wished the lock slid back. Harry closed his eyes and focused on the bolt, feeling all of the rages he had been feeling against the Dursleys. He pictured the beatings he had received, the mental putdowns from Vernon and Petunia, the times Dudley had chased him around the town with his gang of neanderthals and beating him up, that little bitch Granger grassing on him in school, the new school where the teachers simply wouldn't go away and let him get on with his life when all he wanted was to be left alone!

He channelled all that anger and emotion into the desire to slide the bolt across.

It did.

Harry sighed with relief. So far, so good.

He closed his eyes and gently lifted a hand, and he simply waved it to the side, concentrating on moving the bolt.

It worked!

He had worked a way of getting out of the cupboard.

As he slipped back into the cupboard, he wondered if this strange power he had could do anything about his injuries. He turned on the light after he had closed and locked the door. He wanted to see if this worked out for him or not. Harry closed his eyes, although he wasn't sure if this was exactly what he should be doing, he decided it was best if he had his eyes closed to concentrate. He visualised every single beating, every single time he had been punched and kicked and slapped hard enough to break a bone or make him bleed…and he channelled it all into one desire, the desire to be healed just slightly. He felt a strange feeling in his leg, where Dudley had stamped on it while he had placed all of his weight on it, which was the equivalent of a grown elephant snapping a tree in half.

He felt something rising inside of him. Something very powerful, and he smiled as he pushed that same power into his leg in order to heal it.

Okay, the description of an elephant stamping on his leg was more than a little melodramatic but he did not care. He had certainly felt like thin, twig-like legs be snapped in half, and as he felt the power heal his legs, knitting the bones back together, Harry kept his eyes closed as he thought about every single thing he had felt whenever the Dursleys had beaten him, the panic, the fear, the anger, and the pain.

His leg healed. Harry opened his eyes. He was amazed to still feel himself be dizzy after what he had done, but he pushed that aside while he examined the leg. For the most part it had healed, although it was still not in great shape, hopefully, in the morning, he would still be limping so the Dursleys wouldn't suspect what he had done.

And yet….

Harry was still amazed he had managed to heal himself, and at the same time, he had found a way of harnessing whatever it was the Dursleys hated and feared so much.

The answer was emotion. All he would need to do now was to practice while he felt angry over what was going on around him. Harry rested his head on the pillow, but he blinked and squinted his eyes when the bright, harsh light of the lightbulb hurt his eyes. He turned it off and he returned to his original position, thinking.

Harry had no idea what this power was, but he was reminded of the girl Carrie from the Stephen King novel as well as the girl Charley from his other novel Firestarter; he hadn't read either of them fully although he had access to the copies in the library at school, he knew enough about the plots to know what happened to the two characters.

One of them was capable of moving things through the power of the mind, the book called it telekinesis, while the second book showed a child and a father being hunted by a shady government cabal who wanted to harness her abilities to use as a weapon.

Could I have that power? Harry thought to himself, momentarily entertaining himself with visions of turning Little Whinging into an inferno which would have placed the Great Fire of London to shame (he pushed that out of his mind, although he shelved it just in case, it was tempting and it provided him with a lovely fantasy for a few minutes), but he had to think practically.

Harry had a way out of the cupboard under the stairs, so maybe he could build on it. He sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he would need to practice this ability and try to discover what he could and could not do.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. A smile crossed Harry's face and he closed his eyes to concentrate his power as he pressed his hand against the wall, remembering sticking to the wall that time which seemed to him so long ago, only this time he used his newfound discovery of how he could make his power work to fuel it.

His hand pressed against the wall of the cupboard, he tried to pull it back.

His hand remained pressed against the wall.

Harry's eyes widened as he gasped at the sight, grinning. "Wicked!" he whispered, excited by the possibilities.

He closed his eyes again, visualising his hand free. He pulled and his hand came free.

Opening his eyes again, Harry looked at his hands again, and he smirked as a number of possibilities for what he could put this new skill to come into his mind.

But still, he had needed to know for sure if this was a fluke. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands against the wall, wanting them to stick to the wall. They both did.

Harry grinned again. He wondered for a moment how this was possible, but he decided it made little difference since he was sticking to the wall. But he took his oversized socks off and pressed his feet and his hands to the wall, and he concentrated again. Amazing! His hands and his feet could both stick to the walls. All he would need to do was mentally will it to happen, and all he needed to do to come loose was to simply reverse his concentration.

Harry opened the cupboard under the stairs and he got out, wincing in pain slightly since there was still some residual pain in his once-injured leg, but he pushed that aside although he knew he would have to act like an injured kid for the Dursleys benefit, as long as he shook off the stupid facade when he reached school and could be himself once more, he would be fine. The hard part would be to make sure he remembered he had been injured when he left, but that was nothing.

In the meantime…Harry went to the wall which went upstairs to the second floor. He pressed his hands and feet against the wall and he slowly climbed up, sticking to the wall. Harry slowly crawled upside down on the ceiling. He felt some of his blood go to his head, but he ignored the effects, although he made a mental note to practice this newly found skill so then it became second nature for him.

Harry crawled along the ceiling going from one room to another. He found it a little disconcerting and nauseous to crawl along the ceiling and see everything upside down. He averted his eyes and kept his eyes on the ceiling ahead, deciding to focus on that instead. He could work on how the blood went to his brain and everything else later.

Harry crawled around the ceiling for an hour before he went to a wall and he started to climb down it before he reached the floor, visualising his hands and feet were now free. "Awesome," Harry whispered before he went back to the cupboard and he slipped in and closed and locked the door.

XXX

Discovering the wall-climbing ability couldn't have come at a better time for Harry, and as he sat in the first lesson at school the next day he was relieved he had. Miss Ross was looking at him suspiciously, although that was nothing strange since the woman had it out for him. Ordinarily, Harry would tune her out and just ignore the woman. Unfortunately, as he was leaving for the lunch break, Harry turned and found Miss Ross following the class to the hall where the tables had been set up for the students' lunch.

Harry mentally sighed, why can't this woman just leave me alone?

He seriously doubted this woman was not just an ordinary teacher; she simply must know the Dursleys although they didn't make any sense since he had never heard anything along those lines.

Harry resolved to just ignore the woman and he took a look at his lunch and his stomach clenched. It was just a sandwich and yoghurt. Nothing more. His annoyance surged through him, knowing Dudley was probably having the lunch box equivalent of a nine-course meal. It was extravagant, but that was Dudley.

Harry looked enviously at the lunches everyone else had. He had nothing to trade for something better, and besides, he was used to this. He unwrapped the sandwich, wincing as he saw it was something he despised by nature. Cheese and pickle were gross, and yet Aunt Petunia loved giving it to him. He shoved the sandwich back into the box in disgust, and he took out the yoghurt, seeing it was cherry flavoured. Another thing he loathed, still at least it was better than a cheese and pickle sandwich which looked like congealed vomit.

He grimaced as he ate the yoghurt and he finished up quickly and he left the hall in disgust. He was already planning on getting something to eat from a corner shop or something, and although it would use some of the money he had on his person, it would be worth it to live just one more day.

Harry passed Miss Ross just as he was heading to the library. "Finished already?" the teacher asked.

Harry just ignored her.

Miss Ross was furious. "Excuse me, I was speaking to you-," the teacher grabbed him by the arm.

Harry swung around and pushed her off. "Don't touch me," he snapped and walked off, already cursing himself for his loss of control. The teacher recovered from her shock quickly and she hurried after him as he was heading into the library.

"You can't go in there!" she snapped.

"Why not?" Harry demanded as he opened the door, nodding to the librarian on duty while he turned to face the arrogant woman who'd followed him here.

"Because you should be outside-."

"Don't tell me what to do in my free time," Harry said calmly before he walked inside, shaking with rage.

He needed to do something, anything, to get that annoying woman out of his hair. He walked through the library and he spotted a book whose title caught his eye.

The Demon Headmaster.

Intrigued, Harry took it out and opened it and he went to sit down to read. Within minutes, an idea was coming into his mind. He could stick to walls and unlock doors, but what if he could hypnotise someone like the Demon Headmaster, a creepy and cold megalomaniac who desired an orderly world more than anything?

The idea was intriguing…

But he had no way of knowing if it would work, but if he could make it work then the advantages would be beyond belief worthwhile. Still, he would need to find a test subject who would be worth it.

At that moment he spotted another student, a girl. Harry walked over to her, taking in her appearance. He knew her; she was one of those girls who derided him for no reason other than the fact everyone else did. Good. She was wearing a silver bangle around her wrist. Perfect. A perfect experiment.

"Excuse me," he whispered, concentrating on his power to make the girl do what he wanted her to do. The girl looked at him questioningly. "Look into my eyes," he said. "Give me your bangle."

The girl did as she was told, her eyes glazed.

"Good," he smiled. "Now, kiss me on the cheek."

The girl leaned forward and kissed him.

"Good girl," Harry praised, already thinking about the things he could do with this ability, given time and practice. "Now, take the bangle back. When I click my fingers, you will remember nothing. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the girl answered, her voice calm.

Harry clicked his fingers.

The girl snapped out of the trance and she looked at him questioningly. "Sorry, did you want something?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Great," the girl sneered at him. "Then get away from me, freak!"

"Gladly," Harry replied and he walked away. He knew he could have made her do anything else, but he was pleased with his current use of his power. With a bit of luck, it would work on Miss Ross.

An evil smirk crossed his face as he thought about the things he would make her do. No, he would need to form a plan.

XXX

Harry was heading back to Number 4 when he went into the corner shop. A few minutes later he came out again with twice the number of food he had expected. He went to a park and he started to eat slowly and thoughtfully.

It had been a surprise being able to hypnotise someone so easily, and it opened so many possibilities for him that he was excited by them. If he could hypnotise people, perhaps he could escape the Dursleys, or do something else to them that would free him from this dump once and for all.

True, he would need to practice on others while he formed his plans. Harry finished his food and he continued on his way back to Privet Drive. It was on his way there that he encountered his cousins' gang.

Harry sighed, but he fought down his initial urge to just run away and get clear of them before they got too close.

"What are you doing, freak?" Piers sneered.

Harry didn't say a word as he concentrated his power on the boys. A few minutes later they walked away from him. A cruel smirk crossed Harry's face as he watched them from a distance, and he followed them onwards as they caught sight of a teenage gang they were trying to emulate. He watched as Dudley and his friends tried to beat up the teenagers, but the older boys who were stronger and more experienced with fighting had little trouble with putting Dudley's friends in their place.

Harry turned and walked away.

XXX

While he was in class the next day, Harry was looking forward to the end of the class, especially since, if this worked out the way he hoped it would, he would never be seeing Miss Ross ever again. Finally, when the lesson ended, he walked up to the desk.

The teacher looked at him with both surprise and revulsion. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"I want you to look into my eyes, Miss Ross," Harry concentrated on his power and within moments she was sitting down rigidly like a machine awaiting its programming.

"Repeat your orders," Harry said.

In a calm, mechanical sounding voice, the teacher replied, "I am to go to the headmaster's office tomorrow morning, and I am to hand in my resignation and say I want to apply for a different teaching post in London."

"Correct. When you have a teaching post, you are to treat your students with kindness and respect," Harry went on, "and you are going to become a constructive member of society."

"Member of society," Ross repeated in her emotionless, hypnotised voice; Harry wondered if the woman would look and sound the same as his Aunt Petunia would if he hypnotised her.

"Yes. It's hard for someone of your limited intelligence to grasp that concept, but it is your instruction," Harry went on, but something occurred to him. "Miss Ross, why do you hate Harry Potter."

"I was told by Petunia Dursley Harry Potter was a delinquent and a thief."

Harry raised a brow. "How do you know Petunia Dursley?" he asked.

"She is a friend of mine," Miss Ross answered.

Harry believed that; he didn't know all of Petunia's friends, in fact, he had always gone out of his way to avoid the harpies since they always treated him like he was scum. "I see," he said, his mind racing as he thought through the possibilities. Something entered his mind as he realised he had another advantage over the teacher.

"Miss Ross, have you ever been blackmailed?" he asked.

"No," the teacher replied.

"Well, you will be. Miss Ross, I want you to take some paper out of your desk," he went on and waited for the teacher to do as he commanded, "and I want you to write down anything incriminating about yourself and your friends. I want to know the details, anything incriminatory and I want you to provide the details, especially evidence to back up your wrongdoings."

"Yes, wrongdoings," Miss Ross replied automatically as she picked up a pen and obeyed Harry's commands.

It took the teacher twenty minutes to write out the list of things she had done. Harry was amazed in spite of himself when he glanced briefly at the list, amazed that his aunts' friends were not entirely innocent after all. "Very good," he said, putting the paper into his bag. "Good. Now, Miss Ross, when I snap my fingers you will remember nothing. You will assume we have just had a talk with you scolding me, and your instructions are implanted. You will take the letter of resignation straight to the headmaster in the morning. Understood?"

"Yes, understood."

Harry snapped his fingers.

When he was out of the school, Harry thought about some of the things he had gotten out of Miss Ross. Finding out half of the women in Aunt Petunia's circle of friends had committed infidelity on their husbands made him want to laugh, and it also made him determined to get hold of evidence which would be incriminating enough to make them do what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Harry thought about the other instance of hypnotism he had used, inflicting on Dudley to make his obese cousin do what he was told. Dudley and his friends had been badly beaten up by that gang of teenagers, and they didn't have any memory of what he had done to them, so that was perfect. Even better, with Dudley practically invalidated the Dursleys were fawning more over him than they were worried about what he was doing.

Even the girl he had hypnotised for the first time had no memory of what had happened to her, and he was hoping it remained like that. In the meantime, Harry had to be thankful; he now had a weapon he could use against his aunt and her friends. He only needed to find a way of gathering information, intelligence as spy movies and novels referred to it as. Once he had it all, he would begin blackmailing them.

All the money he had been gathering from the sale of Dudley's old tat would look small in comparison to the amount of money he was going to steal from the women he was planning on blackmailing. It was good.

I couldn't resist doing the hypnotism part.