Chapter 2: Growing Up

Harry smiled as he looked round at the dawn-lit neighborhood, even as he adjusted the now-empty canvas bag over his shoulder.

Unlike the other paper-boys who delivered the newspapers to certain houses around the town of Little Whinging, Harry had no trouble at all even with the Sunday Editions that he had been posting through the letterboxes. The other boys would grumble about the weight, but Harry was more than strong enough to effortlessly cart around several times that which he was paid to deliver.

His strength had begun to grow once he had turned five. By the time he was six, he was able to lift up Vernon Dursley's car (one side, at least) and he had also become very, very tough. In fact, one time his aunt Petunia had tried to hit him with a frying pan. Admittedly, she had been having a very bad day with quite a bit of the neighborhood gossip putting her in a bad light while Dudley threw a series of tantrums that had the neighbors tutting in disapproval, but when Harry, in a fit of childish rebellion, had returned Dudley's angry punch and knocked him to the ground, Petunia had swung at him with the first thing she could find.

The pan had soon ended up in the bin since the impression of Harry's face in it made it almost impossible to use for cooking while it took an hour for Petunia to regain the ability to grip things.

Dudley had been so shocked by it that he hadn't tried anything else against Harry for a full week.

The next sign of him being different from everyone else was when he found that he could see and hear things that others simply couldn't perceive. The auras of body temperature, the glimpses of their internal organs, the differing heartbeats that allowed him to identify people and work out their emotional state… If not for the fact that Harry had been conditioned to keep quiet about his differences by the semi-panicking Dursleys, he might have mentioned it. Instead, he simply went to the library and read about human biology so that he could understand what he was seeing. It was then that he discovered that his healing was far faster than normal since apparently cuts should take several days to fully heal whereas he healed from scrapes and bruises within an hour or two.

Less, if it was a sunny day.

On the morning of his eighth birthday, he had queried why he had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs whereas Dudley got two bedrooms. Vernon had puffed up with indignation and slammed the back door on him, only for a single irritated punch from Harry to shatter the door, making it useless for anything except kindling.

That afternoon, Harry and Dudley were assigned to clear out Dudley' second bedroom (which was the smallest one in the house) and neatly pack the toys away under Petunia's direction while Vernon visited B&Q to get a new back door and a cheap bed for Harry to sleep on.

Harry had made a point of helping Vernon with the replacement door as his strength meant that he could seat the screws better, cutting out the slight wobble of the previous door which Vernon had never actually managed to solve.

During Harry's ninth year, a nearby newsagent had advertised for local paper-boys and Harry had struck a deal with Vernon. Harry would be allowed to take on the job of delivering papers in exchange for half his wage going to the Dursleys. Harry didn't mind since it would still give him money to spend on himself, something that he had never had before.

It was during his first week that he discovered that not only could he run very fast, he could also leap a full five meters into the air. That discovery had been due to a dog lunging at him. The next day, the dog had caught him by surprise and broken six of its teeth trying to bite him. Harry hadn't mentioned it to anyone, but the owner had been forced to spend a great deal of money on vets bills and the dog had since refused to go anywhere near Harry.

"Hello, Harry." The Newsagent smiled as Harry trotted up. "You are being very fast again. You are being the best boy I am having working for me."

"Thank you, Mr. Kalwar." Herry replied as he unslung his (empty) bag, then he glanced at the remaining pile of newspapers on the long counter. "Malcom not show up again?"

"That boy, always not liking to be working. I am seeing him hanging out at the local park with other delinquents." Mr. Kalwar sighed. "If not for the fact his father is being leader of the town council, I would be firing him for laziness."

"I'll do it for you." Harry volunteered as he put the bag in place and carefully half-lifted, half-slid the papers into it.

"The papers are being sorted into order for delivering, here is the sheet." Mr Kalwar smiled, passing over a computer print-out. "You are receiving bonus for this."

"Thanks, Mr. Kalwar!" Harry grinned as he re-slung the bag on his shoulder, checked the first address and jogged out of the shop.

.

Harry slipped into his home as quietly as possible, his ears picking up the clink of cutlery from the kitchen as the other three members of the household had breakfast. Removing his shoes, he quickly scurried up the stairs and, pausing only to grab his towel (which he really needed to replace, it was getting so threadbare that it was on the verge of becoming a net), he darted into the bathroom and switched on the shower.

Even though he didn't work up a sweat delivering papers, Harry preferred to make certain that he was clean, expecially since the day he had been staring at his hand during a really boring class and his vision had shown him the dirt and bacteria on his fingers.

It had taken several days to recover from the shock and realize that it was actually normal.

While he would have liked to take his time in the shower, if he took more than a couple of minutes, Petunia would start complaining about how he was wasting gas, so he scrubbed himself down, then rinsed himself off before shutting off the water. Before pulling back the shower curtain, he shook himself as fast as he could, sending most of the water splattering onto the tiles and curtain, then he stepped out and wrapped the towel around himself before heading to his room to finish drying and get dressed.

"Hurry up!" Petunia called up the stairs. "It's Dudders' birthday and I won't have you lollygagging around!"

Harry sighed as he pulled out a small package from his rather battered wardrobe (which he had brought for a fiver the previous year from a house-clearance. It had been a shame, Mr Swithins had been a very nice man who left a big tip at Christmas and always had a joke or two to share whenever they met). Checking that the tag was still attached, Harry finished getting dressed and walked down the stairs to join the Dursleys.

"How many presents do I have?" Dudley was asking gleefully as Harry entered the living room, sighing at the sight of all the presents piled high against one wall.

"Thirty-eigh…" Vernon started, then Harry coughed.

"Thirty-nine. Counted 'em meself!" Vernon corrected himself as Harry passed the package to Petunia who placed it on the pile as Dudley glanced at his father.

"The same as last year." Dudley said slowly with slight frown, then he grinned. "Okay!"

"Go on, open them." Vernon grinned, relieved at having avoided another tantrum and Dudley lunged forwards, grabbing the biggest present and ripping the paper off to reveal that it was a racing bike.

Harry raised a mental eyebrow at that since his cousin hated exercise, unless it was trying to bully those smaller than him.

"What did you get him?" Petunia whispered as Dudley ripped open his second present with a shrill squeal of glee.

"A variety box of mini chocolate bars." Harry replied just as quietly and Petunia nodded in unwilling approval. "Do you still need me here or is there anything that needs doing?"

"The lawn needs mowing." Petunia commented and Harry left the living room (and the ear-shattering whoops of joy) and walked through the kitchen and to the shed. Pulling out the unpowered mower, he wheeled it round to the front garden, then paused as he decided to give in to temptation.

Looking round to check that no-one was watching, he hooked his fingers under the side of Vernon's car and then straightened, before lowering it back down, smirking at how much easier it was to lift than it had been even six months ago.

He still had no idea how he was getting powers like that, but he wasn't going to complain.

.

After finishing mowing both the front and back lawns, Harry lifted the mower in one hand to place it back in the shed, then he paused in the middle of locking the door as his ears picked up a familiar voice complaining.

"But I don't want him along! He'll spoil everything!"

"Mrs Figg's in hospital, so she can't take him." Petunia complained. "And there's no way I'll let him stay here on his own."

"He'll try to steal my presents!" Dudley whinged, causing Harry to glower briefly. "He's already stolen my second bedroom, I barely have any space of my own!"

"Maybe if you picked up after yourself, you would." Harry grumbled as he finished locking the shed and walked over to the back door. Letting himself in and pausing only long enough to take off his trainers (noting that he needed to go to a charity shop soon to find a new pair), he walked through to the living room.

"I overheard." He said, cutting off the conversation (and Dudley's imminent meltdown). "Since it is Dudley's birthday and he doesn't want me around, not that I mind, I'll take a bag and go out for the day… probably to the park. I'll get something to eat from the newsagents and I'll return about… five?"

"Better make it six." Petunia stated, giving Vernon a glance. "And come in the back door."

Harry nodded and turned to go up the stairs.

He was only half-way through the library book he was reading and he really wanted to see how it ended.

.

Harry was just sitting down on the park bench when Vernon's car roared past. In the back, Dudley and his friend Piers made insulting finger-motions at him, but Harry simply noted that they were leaving before pulling out the book he was reading, then dropping his bag on the floor.

~Ah! That nearly hit me!~

Harry froze, then slowly leaned sideways and looked down. Just beside his bag, a grass-snake looked back up at him.

"Did… you just talk?"

~Ah! A Speaker!~ The snake gasped. ~It's a Speaker!~

Harry stared at the surprisingly loquacious snake for a long moment. "…speaker?"

~One who speaks to snakes, of course.~ The serpent replied in a tone that made it clear that it thought that it was Harry who was being an idiot. ~What did you think I meant?~

"I'm not sure." Harry shrugged, feeling rather bemused. "Huh, this does explain some of the things I heard when I was gardening, though. I had thought it was my imagination… or me hearing picking up people I couldn't see. Thanks."

~You're welcome.~ The snake replied with a flex that looked rather like a shrug, despite its lack of shoulders. ~I need to go, there are tasty frogs at the pond!~

"Enjoy." Harry said with a wave, then he shook his head. "Talking to snakes. What on earth is going to happen next?"