Wammy's Boy
By: Super NEET
A Testy Interlude
~*~*~*~
"What's your favorite sport?"
"I've never played any other than football."
"Would you like to play other sports?"
"Yes."
"Who would you say is your best friend?"
"I don't have one."
"Why not?"
"No one wanted to be my best friend, I guess."
"I see. What's your favorite color?"
"I don't really have one."
"But if you had to choose one, which would you choose?"
"Green, probably."
"Mhm. And if you could visit any country, which country would you choose and why?"
"Probably China or Japan. They seem so different."
"You like things that are different?"
"I guess. Yeah."
"Do you know why?"
Harry hesitated for the first time since the stream of questions started. "They're nothing like what I'm use to…and what I'm use to makes me unhappy."
There was a slight pause, and then the maybe-doctor (who had introduced herself as Mrs. Hassell) let a small smile. "Do you feel unhappy often?"
"Not actively unhappy. I guess I'm sad most of the time…I don't really notice it anymore."
"Hm. And what makes you happy?"
"New things. Different things."
"Like what?"
"I like to learn," Harry blurted, before lowering his head and muttering in a more normal tone: "I like learning new things. I don't care what it is. Even if it's something terrible, I like to learn about it."
"That's a wise thing to do," the maybe-doctor Mrs. Hassell said, "Would you say you had a quenchless thirst for knowledge?"
Harry thought about it a moment, "Probably not quenchless. But… I'm sure it's close to that, yeah."
"Okay, good." The lady scribbled on her clipboard for a moment, and Harry shifted uncertainly. He knew that doctors and teachers only said 'good' because you successfully answered a question—not because you successfully answered a question correctly. "Just a few more questions and you're free to leave."
"Alright." Thank God, Harry thought.
"Say there are two women. One likes to steal from the first one, who likes to sneer and taunt the second one in a never-ending cycle of theft and unpleasantness. Who is more in the wrong, and how would you suggest they fix the situation?"
Harry thought about it for only a few seconds, before saying, lowly and surely, his answer. He didn't think about whether or not he'd get it 'wrong'…something told him that these two questions had no wrong answers.
"They're both in the wrong, but the second one is more in the wrong because she was breaking the law while the first was just unpleasant. I'd probably look into the unpleasant woman's past and check out her surroundings—I'd ask myself if she was privileged or poor, young or old, skinny or fat, pretty or ugly, and figure out why she acts the way she does. Once I found out all those things I could offer her incentives to shut her mouth. I'd just hand the thief over to the police."
Mrs. Hassell looked surprised, "That's all you'd do to the thief?"
Harry smiled, "You never said the thief was unpleasant. For all I know, the thief could be a very poor, innocent girl who wants to feed her family. The unpleasant one is nasty and easy to dislike. And you never said I was a police officer, so I did what a good Samaritan should, I guess."
"Do you value being a good Samaritan?"
"No," Harry denied firmly, "I value what's right; I value justice."
She smiled then, fiercely, and Harry was a little startled by the look. Her brown eyes were lit with something viciously smug and she scribbled frantically on her clipboard for several moments. Harry waited nervously, swinging his legs back and forth. His feet didn't quite reach the floor.
"Okay, little man," Mrs. Hassell—a black woman of around forty-years who stood extraordinarily tall—pushed herself out of her chair and smiled down at him. "That was very interesting. You're quite smart."
He smiled fretfully, "Thank you."
"No need to be worried," she said with a wink, before she suddenly changed her track entirely, "When's your birthday?"
"July 31st."
"That's mighty soon!" She cried, and bent down in half to be on his level, "How's about I come by to see you and give you a little something, hm?"
"You don't have to!" Harry was quick to assert, shaking his head as if the idea were absurd.
Mrs. Hassell laughed, "No, I insist. I want to."
She grabbed her red coat and slipped it up and over her shoulders, shaking out the sleeves and buttoning it up the front. It was warm outside—hot, even—but she didn't seem phased.
"I'll see you on the 31st, little man." She said, grinning, "I'll send in Mrs. Weatherbee in a moment to escort you back to your temp room. You're done with your tests." With that (unbelievably excellent) news, Mrs. Hassell left the room.
Relief filled Harry—the tests had been harder earlier in the day, and he was glad they didn't have anything more challenging lined up for him. The first few tests had covered everything from the Spanish-American War to Lord Byron to algebra; there had been many personal questions about his past and his opinions on things like war, business, and equality, until he thought that he would pass out from all of the queries he'd received from strangers. Despite the fact that she was still more or less a stranger, out of all of the doctors and professors he'd met, Mrs. Hassell was undoubtedly his favorite. Every other person he had met that day had been serious and perfunctory from the moment he arrived to the moment he left…it was slightly intimidating.
Harry reckoned that he was probably at least a little bit smart. Maybe nothing amazing, but certainly a lot more intelligent than the Dursleys had always made him out to be to their snobbish dinner guests.
A/N: This is just to hold you over until the next two chapters are done (I like to cash in some time). I won't be taking you through all of Harry's tests, mostly because I'm NOT a genius, and taking you through a series of tests made for geniuses (even six year old ones) would be difficult. I'm sorry it's sloppy…I need a beta reader. I need a harsh beta reader that can kick my ass when I mess up some of those complicated sentences I like to write. And one who knows Death Note better than I do.
Important Note: KIRA WILL EXIST IN WAMMY'S BOY! I totally knew that before. When I said he wouldn't. Yeah. Totally…*coughs*
I realized that it would be very easy to fit Kira and the entire Japanese cast in. There still won't be magic, and I still won't be following the Kira Case word for word (in fact, I plan to make it drastically different), but the Death Note and all of its hairy rules and consequences WILL exist.