Before I start this chapter, go and check out the fantastic story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years,' by the wonderful Njchrispatrick. It is where the inspiration for this story came from. If you notice any similarities between the stories, I do have permission to use them.

"Hermione! You can stop now!" Harry pulled himself to his feet, absolutely exhausted. Around the flat were the remnants of her testing fervor, bits of woods, cubes of ice, a smashed up chess board (which made Ron quite upset, seeing as he adored the game) and several sharp objects. His skin was bruised and battered, even though he now seemed to heal quicker. Hermione hadn't noticed this yet, so Harry was going to keep that one to himself. He didn't need her rushing at him with sharpened kitchen utensils, nicking his skin to see how fast he healed.

"I'm nearly done, Harry. Have some patience." She raised her wand and moved it in a complicated gesture. Furniture began flying towards him at an alarming rate, bashing into him when he didn't move quick enough. Sure, he could move quick, but not so quick that he could avoid a dresser zooming towards him faster than a speeding car. Through all his dodging and ducking, Harry managed to extract his wand from its holster and yell:

"FINITE INCANTATEM!"

The malevolent furniture crashed to the floor, splintering and cracking. The awful smashing of china plates finished off the out of tune orchestra. Harry panted, aching all over, hair slicked back against his forehead. Relief at all manner of objects not flying at him was overpowering.

He turned around to face Hermione, who was looking rather put out. "I said, that's enough. We've been going at it for two hours. I'm sore, hungry, and to be honest, quite pissed off." He truly was. Then again, anyone would be if they'd had their reflexes tested in increasingly deranged ways for two hours. "I just want to go home and sit down with my cat."

"But….you can't just go! I'm not done yet. There are so many more things that I need to test." She peered closer at her notes. "Like the speed of your healing factor." Harry paled. Hermione grinned. In the background of the ruined apartment, Ron (who was currently encased in a protective bubble) winced. "You thought I hadn't noticed? Shame on you. You should know by now that I notice everything."

"I'm just going to go, okay?" He gathered himself up, raking his hair back and straightening his shirt, which was still several sizes too small. He would have to go out and get some new ones. Sure, he could always magically alter the clothes to fit his new stature. The only problem with that particular solution was that Harry wasn't quite adept with clothing spells. The last time he'd altered a shirt, it had somehow ended up neon pink and so large that it could be called a circus tent. He wasn't keen to repeat that incident.

"Fine," huffed Hermione. "But you come back here in a few days, got it? I've got some more things to test." At the moment, Hermione resembled a mad scientist. Her hair was sticking up like she'd stuck a finger inside a socket, her eyes were wide, gleaming with the thirst for knowledge, her fingers were tapping an impatient tattoo on the table, her notebook was overflowing with scrawled results and possible conclusions to all manner of questions.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," Harry said halfheartedly. A sharp glare was sent his way. "Yeesh, I will be. Just promise you won't throw any more furniture at me. That got old very, very fast." He walked towards the door. Hermione was scary when she was after sometimes. It had only become more intense with age. It didn't matter that he was now an entire foot taller than her, or that she was quite small. Her fierce attitude was scary enough to make even ravenous tigers flee for safety.

"Oh, there will be no more of that. I have other things planned."

At the grin she sent his way, Harry gulped and booked it out of the apartment, catching a taxi back to his own due to the way he reacted to apparating mere hours ago. That pain was not something he was eager to experience for a second time.

When a very weary Harry opened the door to his apartment, the last thing he expected to see was a letter sitting on his doormat. A few days prior, he'd finally set up mail wards that only let in mail from people he knew. It wasn't that he didn't like receiving mail from people who told him how much he inspired them. Those were quite lovely. The problem was the unsolicited mail, the hate mail, the sheer volume of letters that came through his window. Not to mention, with that many owls he was always having to clean up after them…

Curiously, Harry picked the letter up, kicking the door shut with his foot. He kicked it a bit hard, making it slam shut and rattle the doorframe. Harry winced and sent a silent apology to his neighbours.

The writing on the front of the letter was clearly that of a child, all uneven and lopsided. Hand drawn balloons, coloured in blue and green crayon, surrounded the writing. Harry couldn't think who would send him a letter like this that would get through the wards. It wasn't near his birthday, either, so he was left wondering what on Earth was going on.

After making a steaming cup of tea and sitting down at the dining room table, Harry opened the letter, being careful not to rip the envelope in shreds. It did tear slightly, as per usual, but compared to his usual lack of finesse, it was a triumph.

The letter itself was much neater, almost as if the parent had been specifically instructing the child on how to write and what to write. The same style of balloons were carefully drawn around the edges, creating a bright, cheerful border. Harry began reading the letter.

To Mr. Potter.

In two weeks I am turning nine. I am having a party and would love it if you would come. My friends will be so amazed when they see how much you look like Captain America. There will be plenty of food.

RSVP by the 7th of September.

Sincerely,
Gabriel.

A phone number was enclosed down the bottom, along with a smiley face sticker and an address. Harry bit his lip. He remembered Gabriel from the library, months ago, when the revelation of not being James Potter's biological son had still been fresh in his mind. The smile of the hyperactive child still stuck with him, the picture of pure happiness. Add to the fact that Gabriel had no idea about him being a wizard (due to the fact that the letter came through the slot in the door) and Harry was very tempted to go. Maybe, just this once, he would make an exception for the impossible child who seemed to go past every barrier he had erected.

Before he could change his mind, Harry downed his tea. He threw on a sweatshirt and the first shoes he found, which were a pair of ratty old sneakers, carefully put the letter in his pocket and left the apartment to find a phone. He didn't have one in his apartment. There wasn't really a reason outside of that he didn't see the need for one up until now. Maybe he would go and get one another day. Yes, that could come a lot in handy in the future.

Just before he opened the door, Harry hesitated. Should he put the glamour up? He wasn't sure if it would react badly with him. He could perform spells just fine, but when they were directed at himself, things didn't seem to go too well. The words of Dr. Hannigan echoed through his head all of a sudden.

'You'll be running away from the truth forever, never facing up to your fears. You can't keep doing that, because one day all of your running away from the truth is going to catch up with you.'

And in that moment, Harry decided that for the first time he was going to go out in public without his glamour. Devoid of fear and completely at peace with what his life had become, he would march out there and own everything he did. For though his life had become different, he was going to make the most of that different, because sulking away was a thing of the past.

With a spritely skip in his step, Harry locked his apartment and set a jaunty course towards the nearest public payphone. He smiled at several strangers and felt a strange urge to whistle a happy little tune. Everything was going right for him. Not because things had fallen into place for him, but because Harry had decided to take charge of his own life and make the pieces fall into place.

The lightness he felt was something that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was the feeling of utter peace. In turn, that made him happy. All thanks to a letter from an eight year old boy who wanted him to come to a birthday party. The least Harry could do now was go, as a thank you to the little boy who made him realise that he could make things better for himself.

After ten minutes of wander, Harry found a phonebooth. He stepped inside, placed a coin in the slot and dialled the number. He may not be excellent with technology (using a television and a radio didn't count) but he was sure that finding his way around a phone would be easy enough. If it didn't work, Harry had no qualms about asking a stranger for help. He was just in that mood today.

The phone dialled a few times before getting picked up. A woman with a raspy voice answered, a raspy voice that Harry had heard before. He had the right number, which was always a good start.

"Hello, Grace speaking." Harry smiled. She had a nice name and sounded friendly. From what he could remember of her, which wasn't much, she was quite friendly, a natural mother and liked to carry around a camera to record every moment she spent with her son Gabriel.

"Hi, this is Harry Potter. I'm calling about the invitation Gabriel sent to me about his party?" There was a slight pause on the line, before Grace hesitantly spoke.

"What's your answer?"

"I am going to come. I don't see how I couldn't. Gabriel is just such a nice kid."

"Oh, thank you so much. I've been going mad the last few days waiting for your answer. Gabe can be incredibly impatient when he wants to." She chuckled fondly. "You're really sure that you're able to come?"

"Of course. I wouldn't tell you I could come then not turn up. That's just rude."

"Thank you, thank you." The relief in Grace's voice was amazing to hear. It made Harry's heart feel just that bit lighter. Not only was he making Gabriel happy, but he was taking stress of a parents shoulders. Suddenly, there was joyful screaming coming from the other end of the phone. "Sorry, I'll be back in a minute." Harry waited patiently, listening with slight interest as Grace tried to get Gabe to calm down. She returned a minute later. "As you can hear, he's ecstatic that you're coming."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"There is just one thing that I would like to talk to you about, Harry." Grace's voice suddenly went quite serious.

"Yes?"

"Gabe's Uncle Gary, my brother, will be coming as well. He's completely obsessed with Captain America. I would be careful around him, due to your uncanny likeness. He's been known to get...personal with his obsession."

"I...thank you?" He wasn't quite sure why Grace felt the need to tell him about this Gary character. He could appreciate it, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be puzzled.

"You're welcome." Another loud noise came from the phone, this time reminiscent of something smashing. Harry cringed as Grace let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to go. Gabe's being a little menace again." Though she sounded very annoyed with Gabe, there was a note of affection in her voice. "We'll see you in two weeks, okay?"

"Yep, see you then."

"And thank you, again. Gabe's going to be so happy. Bye now!"

"Bye."

When Harry lay down to sleep that night, he was able to drift off with a blissfully empty mind, not regretting a single thing he'd done that day, not regretting the discovery of his new body or how he'd dealt with it.

Maybe things were going to turn out alright after all.

Two weeks later, Harry stood on the doorstep of a very nice house with a present tucked under his arm. He really wasn't sure what to get Gabriel, so he'd settled on a shirt with a graphic print of the captain's infamous shield. It had been slightly difficult to procure, but he had it, and was happy with the gift.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard someone crunching down the gravel path behind him. He turned around and saw a man with well groomed black hair and pale, clear skin walking towards him, a large box tucked under his arms. He seemed to be lost in thought, humming a little tune to himself, until he saw Harry standing there. He took Harry in for a second and then his eyes lit up in sheer astonishment and excitement.

"Oh my God! You look exactly like Steve Rogers!" He fumbled with the box, placing it on the ground and smoothing his hair back. In a few seconds, he'd gone from extremely put together to quivering with nerves. "Gary Armand at your service, Gabriel's uncle. Honoured to meet you." He zealously stuck out his hand. Harry tentatively shook the hand. In the end, he had to rip it away from Gary's enthusiastic handshake.

"Uh, hi, I'm Harry Potter."

If it was possible, Gary's eyes went even wider.

"Wait, you're the Harry Potter my wife has been reporting on? I'm even more honoured now!" Gary's face seemed to be split in two. He now saw why Grace thought it was prudent to warn him about this obsessive little man. "Can I just say, I disagree with a lot of what she's been printing? I think you're magnificent. And the fact that you are the spitting image of Captain America is amazing. I think we're going to become wonderful friends, don't you? I can't wait to talk to you? You don't mind if I do, do you? Of course you don't, I'm being silly. Come on, let's go inside!"

And then it hit him

Gary Armand. A wife who reported on him? He was married to Genevieve Armand, the current bane of his existence.

Of course.

Did his bad luck ever end?

Please take the time to read this message and consider what I have to say.

There is something that I would like to address. Last week, on the 15th of March, there was a devastating shooting at the Al Noor Mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand. My country. Fifty innocent people were slaughtered because of their religion. This act of terror has shaken my country to our core. I would like you to take what I write here to heart.

It doesn't matter what your religion is. It doesn't matter what God you believe in. You are safe. You are home. You shouldn't have to fear for your life because of your beliefs. There may be people out there who hate you, who yell at you and spit at you, but know that the people who love you far outnumber those who hate you.

As Salaam Alaikum (peace be unto you),
Mariadoria