Harry Potter and its universe don't belong to me.


Breath :

Little fingers, strapped around the stem of a glowing red star, trapped there by the expectations of others and a false duty to normality, bring cancer to his lips. Tall legs and rusty knees, their hinges lacking oil from growing too quickly, fold against his chest made of sharp angles. Huffing and puffing in a songless sigh, hidden in a small niche of the world, he cuddles his heart with the innocence of a stillborn.

They say that there is something wrong with me.

Wrecked beyond his age but not yet an adult, he stains the beauty of youth with wrinkles between his brows and broken steel in his voice. He is like a sealed bottle, losing its wine from the invisible cracks in its side. His very Life hurls itself out of his body, restrained in many tears at the corner of his glassy eyes.

No more pink skirts and red ribbons... No more plaited hair and puffy sleeves... No more Harriett Potter...

Frowning, he watches a photo of his younger self.

This is wrong, they say.

The picture was taken barely monthes ago but he can't recognize himself anymore. Who is this dauntless individual on the paper ? Where is the fear ? Where are the unease and insecrurities ? And the angst of a mismatched body and soul ? He doesn't understand... What changed ? What happened ? He lost smiles and laugher and acceptation. He lost friends and love and self-esteem. And yet... He gained so much more. He knows now, that the photo is a lie.

I just want to be myself, what's so wrong with that ?

He is a nervous wreck now, full of anxiety attacks and wringing hands, but it isn't his fault. Jeers, insults and name-calling. Pranks, tasteless jokes and bullying... His family is not family anymore and his friends became deathsmen. He's all alone. And maybe a little lonely. But that's fine : he's willing to pay any price for the freedom of being himself.

This may be wrong but...

No matter how wrong, it's utterly glorious. Walking as a boy, thinking as a boy, existing as a boy... There is nothing more magnificent than that. The World is so much brighter, so full of colors and substance where it used to be empty and grey. And he is so much stronger, despite fear and loneliness. Boys always seemed to stand taller before, their innate power readable in their every motions. But now he is one too. He stand proud like them and see the same sight as them. Who knew that Life could be so fulfilling ? So beautiful ?

It's worth it.

Even hunched in his corner, small and unsure of his future, in the transparency of a smoky whisper he can only laugh in joy : he is a boy, Harry. And he loves it.


Being yourself is good. But being yourself no matter what is hard.

Plew A.E