Young Harry’s eyes widened as he stumbled back against the trolley, words of surprise trying to leave his mouth but failing. On his reflection’s forehead sat a scar identical to his own. His reflection followed, and revealed the final piece of chilling evidence. Giving pause, Harry raised his hand to his forehead and pushed up his hair. His reflection was very familiar looking, shaggy black hair and glasses and eyes that looked like his own. He looked back up at it fully, and there was this adult mimicking his movements, it was absolutely fascinating.Īs he peered closer at the reflection, similarities set off warning flags in his young brain. He looked down at himself, the reflection followed. The quiet, reserved boy recoiled in surprise, and his reflection did the same. It was a man three times his age with a few years tacked on to that staring him down. Staring back at him wasn’t Harry James Potter, aged seven. Then Harry stood in front of it to view his reflection, and something unexpected happened. While far from the antiques connoisseur, the aged majesty of the mirror was still kind of interesting. #HARRY POTTER POCKET POTIONS HAND SANITIZER PLUS#One of them in particular was a tall, standing mirror, looking older than the combined ages of the Dursleys plus the next two houses down Privet Drive. As Petunia went off to placate the demands of a textbook case of childhood obesity, Harry came to a stop and looked aside to a shop window that sold antiques. “Hurry along, boy.” Vernon muttered as Dudley was invariably drawn off by some shiny bauble in a window. #HARRY POTTER POCKET POTIONS HAND SANITIZER FULL#Today, he was the pack mule, pushing the trolley full of all manner of product, food for the house, toys for Dudley, etc, etc make Harry miserable for kicks along the way. The Dursleys were on a shopping trip and along for the ride was seven year old Harry Potter. Actually, it brought us to London, a number of kilometers away from its suburb where we joined the Boy-Who-Lived. It was that conversation that brought us to Four Privet Drive in the town of Little Wingding…Wing-a-ling…Whining? Oh! It’s Whinging, with a G, yo. But I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” You can’t choose to fight and expect to walk away unscathed.” For all of the pain, suffering, and fighting…this is how it all turns out.” HI-POWER: Harry Is Pissed Off With Everyone’s Rubbishįucking Fate in the face, Shinji Ikari style Here's HI POWER, complete with improvements both minor and major.ĭisclaimer: What the fuck am I writing this for? I don’t even read Harry Potter! Since my other (appropriate) works are popping up here.
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