Gifted – Harry Potter.
As to be expected of the location and the beautiful clear sky above, the playground was filled with the sound of children screaming and laughing, the teachers on duty watching with small smiles as they patrolled and watched their students.
The watching teachers were of no use to one student however, who was too busy running to be able to stop and notice the day's beauty, seemingly invisible to the uncaring adult's eyes as he fled the wrath of his obese cousin and his flunkies. He wasn't so sure of what he had done to deserve today's beating, but what Harry Potter did know was that he wasn't just going to stand there and take it when he had a chance to escape.
Darting between two conversing teachers without either of them batting an eye, Harry dove for the jungle gym, using his smaller size and faster speed to weave in and out of the other students and obstacles in his way. Trying to lose himself in the crowd of kids playing tag, he followed the map he'd built up over his years at Little Whinging Elementary and shot off towards the passage between the cafeteria and the science block as Dudley and his gang hopefully got lost in the other students.
Wincing when he heard a furious "THERE HE IS! GET HIM!" echoing from behind him, Harry just pushed himself closer and closer to his limit, speeding up and ducking into the alley seconds later. Following years of experience, he charged at the dumpster and ran up the side, grunting as his chest slammed into the metal as he heaved himself up and over the edge.
Freezing when he heard the fastest of his cousin's henchmen running into the passage, Harry lay still on garbage bags filled with what smelt like the leftover paint from the art classroom, listening as more feet joined Pier Polkiss' in searching for him. Closing his eyes and praying as someone bumped against the side of the dumpster, Harry cringed at some of the descriptions the gang was muttering about what they'd do to him when they caught him. Muffling a sigh of relief as he finally heard Dudley declare that the 'freak' must have escaped, he allowed himself to relax as he listened to their footsteps shuffling away from the alley.
"Wait".
Eyes snapping back open as Gordon James' voice echoed through the passage, Harry felt dread gripping his chest as slow footsteps made their way over to the dumpster. He was going to be found, he just knew he was going to be found and beaten to a pulp as Gordon tried to clamber up the side of the dumpster, the blond boy almost as a fat as Harry's cousin. He didn't want to be found, Harry never wanted to have to run again, and he most certainly didn't want to be beaten to a pulp.
Clamping his eyes shut as fingers appeared at the top of the dumpster, Gordon finally getting hold of the side, Harry wished he was anywhere but there, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as his eyes flew open, something in his chest just snapping.
And then Harry was gone, staring up at the sky instead of Gordon's face, his head resting comfortably on the pleasantly warm tiles of the cafeteria roof.
Listening to the sound of Gordon dismissing the dumpster and walking away just mere feet below him, Harry lay there stiffly with wide eyes, relief flooding him as he realised he had escaped, and fear filling as he realised how.
He had, no matter how impossible it sounded, teleported.
His first thought being that his Uncle Vernon was right in calling him 'Freak', Harry dismissed it almost instantly as shame bubbled in his chest. He'd never really believed his Uncle when he called Harry that, and now that he thought he knew why, he still didn't want to do so. Uncle Vernon was hardly the most honest person Harry knew after all, the only person that Harry knew who lied more than his Uncle was Dudley, and he had learned from the best.
Sitting up cautiously when the sounds of Dudley and his lackies faded into the distance, Harry looked around carefully and crawled over to the chimney, ducking behind it so he wasn't seen by anyone looking at the roof.
How had he done that though? Harry was used to odd things happening around him, but this definitely took the cake, there was a difference between changing a substitute teacher's hair blue and moving between two places magically after all. Maybe it w- magically… magically. Uncle Vernon had always told him that magic didn't exist, but what if it did? What if that was how he could teleport? And was 'teleportation' even the right word for it? He never really managed to understand the brief flashes of TV he caught when he was cleaning in the living room as Dudley was watching TV.
And more importantly, could he do it again?
Peering around the chimney to make sure that Dudley and his 'friends' were gone, Harry jerked his head back as he met the eyes of his year's teacher Mrs Johnson.
No time like the present to find out.
"HARRY POTTER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?"
Clamping his eyes shut and concentrating, Harry wished he was somewhere else, hoping and begging for the strange power he had to kick in and take him somewhere else. Maybe the jungle gym, he could pretend he'd been sitting there the whole time.
And then it did.
With a sudden loss of breath and a strange sensation in his chest, Harry was sitting against the side of the jungle gym, blinking in shock for a moment before he was hurrying to push himself up to his feet.
"HARRY POTTER! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
"Ma'am?"
Trying to look as innocent as he could, Harry shuffled past the gathered students who were watching the roof expectantly, the Mrs Johnson's head snapping around to stare at him in shock. Watching with baited breath as the woman looked between him and the roof in shock, he half expected someone to point at him and start screaming 'Freak!' as they connected the dots and realised what he'd done. But nobody did, instead Harry found Mrs Johnson turning to him with a frown.
"Where were you, Mr Potter?" the woman demanded suspiciously.
"I was sitting by the jungle gym, Ma'am," Harry lied politely, not hiding his confusion as he peered past her to the roof.
"You weren't on the roof?" Mrs Johnson questioned.
"No Ma'am?"
Mrs Johnson let out a slow humming noise as Harry glanced around at the confused kids who were beginning to file away as they lost interest. "Come with me, Mr Potter," the woman finally instructed, beginning to head back towards the main school building, making Harry run to catch up with her long legged strides.
"Are you absolutely certain that you weren't on the roof, Mr Potter? Mrs Johnson asked as he followed her into the classroom. "You're not going to get in trouble if you were".
"Im sure, Mrs Johnson," Harry insisted, twisting into a look that he hoped screamed annoyed. "I was sitting on the jungle gym watching the clouds".
The woman stared at him for a moment before nodding, seemingly accepting his story as the truth. "Very well, Mr Potter, I apologise for shouting at you," she said simply, gesturing to a desk in the front row, "Now why don't you go take a seat and wait, lunch is almost over anyway".
"Yes Ma'am," Harry agreed obediently hurrying to take a seat so Mrs Johnson didn't get suspicious or change her mind.
He'd never lied to a teacher before, and he hardly ever lied to people that weren't the Dursleys. And even then most of the 'lies' he told the Dursleys were actually the truth, only just a truth that contradicted whatever their 'sweet innocent Dudley' told them. But, as Harry looked down at his hands and remembered the feeling of 'teleporting' and getting away with breaking the rules through lying, he promised himself that he'd be lying a lot more in the future if it helped keep him out of trouble.
And the teleporting? If he could learn to control that and keep it hidden from the Dursleys, then he'd never get in trouble again.
GIFTED
"DAD! DAD! HARRY'S GOT SOMETHING!"
Harry, who had been half-way through unfolding his letter, was left staring at thin air as Uncle Vernon tore it roughly from his hands.
"Give it back! That's mine!" Harry demanded, turning to scowl at his Uncle who just laughed as he unfolded the letter with one hand and used the other to scoop some egg onto his fork.
"Don't be ridiculous boy," Uncle Vernon dismissed, "Who would be writing to you?"
Harry glared as the egg missed his Uncle's mouth and fell down to splat across the fat man's shirt, Uncle Vernon too busy staring at the letter in horror, his face going from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights and then going on into the realm of bone or paper white.
"P-P-Petunia!"
Holding the letter out to Harry's Aunt with a shaking hand, Uncle Vernon held Dudley back with his other hand, preventing the boy from snatching the letter from his mother.
"Oh my goodness! Vernon! What do we do?" Aunt Petunia blurted after glancing at the letter, turning just as pale as her husband, looking like a stiff wind would make her pass out in a heartbeat.
"I want to read that letter!" Dudley shouted angrily, smashing his Smeltings stick down across half the plates on the table, not used to being denied anything he wanted from anyway.
As he stared at the mess erupting before him, Harry realised the Dursley's biggest mistake. They'd forgotten about him – something that usually worked in his favour – and now he could get his letter back. Backing away from the table and eyeing the space between him and the letter his Aunt was holding away from her body like it was about to burst into flames and burn her, Harry paused for a moment to smirk before launching himself forward.
"I WANT TO READ IT NOW!" Dudley demanded loudly, raising his Smeltings stick and taking aim at his father who was still holding him back with one hand.
Vaulting up onto the table, Harry dove for his letter, snatching it out of his screaming Aunt's hands and vanishing beneath the distracted Uncle Vernon's reaching hand before he hit the ground.
Ignoring the way his Aunt shrieked as he reappeared near the fireplace without a soft, Harry ripped his letter open and read it eagerly, shifting and vanishing again as his Uncle leapt to his feet and charged towards him. Eyes devouring the words, Harry felt something clicking into place from where he was now crouching down behind the kitchen bench, hiding from his cursing Uncle, swaying Aunt and fake-sobbing Dudley.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class. Grand Sorcerer. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
He was a witch. That was how he could teleport around, it had to be, it was the only thing that made any sense. Either that or he was a wizard, a sorcerer or a warlock, whichever term they seemed to use the most, the letter was rather vague about that.
Actually, the letter was rather vague about everything.
"Magic is real".
Staring at his Aunt as he stood up from behind the bench, ignoring the way she screamed and knocked over a pot plant beside her, Harry moved around the bench to glare at her properly.
"Magic is real, you lied to me!" he yelled. Not that it really mattered, Harry had been lying to her about his 'gift' for almost a full year, after all. But this was different, the Dursleys had abused him because he was a 'freak' when they knew the truth the entire time.
"How dare you use that freakishness in this house!" Uncle Vernon gasped out as he barrelled back into the room from where he'd been searching for Harry in the hallway.
Teleporting away from his Uncle with a blink of his eyes, Harry reappeared on the other side of the room again, watching as Uncle Vernon overbalanced into thin air and slammed head first into the kitchen cabinets, falling unmoving to the ground. Uncaring of his Aunt's squawk in horror, Harry teleported back to the kitchen, standing between her and her husband with a dark look on his face.
"You knew," he accused.
"Knew? Of course we knew!" Aunt Petunia spat, eyes flicking behind Harry to the unconscious form of her husband. "How could you be anything but, with my blasted sister being what she was? Oh she got a letter just like that she did, disappeared off to that – that madhouse. Came back every holiday with pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats and rats into goblets! I saw her for what she was, a freak, but I was the only one, our parents were so proud to have a witch in the family. Blind-sighted fools," she snarled, her face going red as her eyes turned wild, looking like she'd been waiting to say this for years.
"And then she met that freak of a husband of hers, and had you! Oh I knew, yes I knew," Petunia agreed with herself, "That you would be just as freakish and unnatural as they-"
Cutting his Aunt off by teleporting in front of her, Harry raised the letter in his hands, showing her the list of things he'd needed to attend the 'Mad house'.
"Do you know where I can get these things?" he demanded, Aunt Petunia sneering at him but nodding fearfully all the same. "Good. Go get your purse, Auntie, we're going shopping".