Yes. Here's one of the promised new stories. Yes. I don't like the first chapter.
There should, SHOULD, be weekly updates for this story. If I don't hit writer's block. Which I do. A lot.
I like using periods today. Period.
Basically, I don't own Harry Potter.
Glimpses – Chapter 1
Ten-year-old Harry Potter was woken abruptly from his dream of flying motorcycles and half-giants by a loud banging on the door to his cupboard. His usual loving wake-up call of "Get up! Get up!" came harshly through the small grate on the door, his aunt's horse-like face partially visible through the slits. Harry shook off the headache that was always threatening to make itself known and fell out of bed. Groping for his glasses and shoving them on his face, he stumbled after Aunt Petunia's screeching.
"—breakfast made within ten minutes—your other chores better be done too—can't believe we even let you live in this house—sleeping until near noon!"
"Aunt Petunia, it's only six," Harry muttered softly in protest.
"Don't talk back to me, boy!" she screeched again, hitting him around the head. "And why can't I smell bacon?!"
Harry ignored the cuff and ran to the stove. He had had worse – much worse.
By the time Harry and Dudley were on the way to school, all of Dudley's friends had joined in. Harry knew all about their 'Harry hunting' and ran ahead safely to his fifth grade classroom. Dudley, thankfully, had another teacher, so he could be avoided most of the day.
As Harry sat in class, his headache was back full force. He knew his aunt and uncle would kill him if he skipped school for any reason, especially something that had come at their hand, so he waited for it to go away, wondering if he could sneak some aspirin from the medicine cupboard when he got home.
"Harry? Are you all right, dear?"
Harry looked up dazedly to see his teacher, Mrs. Meath looking down at him in concern. "Yes, ma'am. Just not paying attention for a moment."
She smiled and handed him his spelling test. Harry hesitantly reached out and took it. As he looked down at it, he realized he knew most of the words even though he hadn't studied. Aunt Petunia's orders, of course. Heaven forbid he do better than Dudley at anything. And since Dudley got nearly every question wrong, so did Harry.
At the end of the test, Harry reviewed his answers, much like any other normal student would. But while normal students checked for mistakes, Harry was checking for words he had spelled right. Mrs. Meath smiled brightly at him as he turned in his test.
When Mrs. Meath dismissed the class for the day, she called Harry over to her desk.
"Yes, Mrs. Meath?" he answered respectfully, weaving between desks on his way to her larger one sitting in the corner of the room. He stopped a foot away from the front of her desk, just out of reach of her arms like he had been taught – or rather, like he had learned.
"Ah. Harry. How do you spell 'glimpses'? You missed it on your test." She gave him a searching look.
"G-l-i-m-p-s-e-s." Harry spoke quickly, looking at the floor.
"Just as I thought. You left out of the first 's' on your test, darling," she informed him, making a mark on a paper that, at closer observation, appeared to be Harry's spelling test. "You need to study more."
Harry nodded unconvincingly.
"Really, Harry. If you don't shape up, I'm going to have to talk to your parents." Reprimanding.
"Not my parents," the boy whispered.
"That's where it's going, dear," she continued, seeming concerned.
"No. They're not my parents. They're my aunt and uncle," Harry corrected, almost angry at the mix-up. He didn't want to be known as their child. They didn't treat him as their child. "My parents are dead." The words seemed to make it more final than it ever had been.
Mrs. Meath stopped. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Harry," she soothed, pulling the boy into a hug. She pushed him away slightly, holding him at arm's length, one soft hand on each shoulder. "I'm going to mark that right on your test, dear. You showed me you know the material, at least a little bit."
"No!" The words came out of Harry's mouth in a near-shout. "I got it wrong! You have to mark it wrong! What if Dudley does badly on it?!" The last question nearly hysterically. His shrieks caused the teacher to pull him closer once again. Harry idly wondered when she had moved around the desk without him noticing.
"What?" Softly. "Harry, darling, what happens if you do better than Dudley on the test?"
The brunette shook his head violently, nearly dislodging his glasses from safely behind his ears. The teacher tried again, slightly suspicious this time.
"Would you mind telling me what this bruise is from?" she asked, brushing a thumb lightly across his cheek, where Aunt Petunia's cuff had begun to bruise nastily.
He pleaded with her with his big emerald eyes, seemingly magnified through his round spectacles. "No, please," he whispered. "You'll make it worse."
"What worse?" Her suspicion was clear on her face now. What was going on in this poor boy's home? When Harry shook his head frantically again, Mrs. Meath sighed. "Alright then, Harry," she conceded, letting him go. "Are you ready to go home, then? I'll walk you down to the sidewalk."
When Harry nodded reluctantly, she let him pick up his schoolbag before walking him out the door. When they reached the sidewalk, she turned toward him again.
"Harry. . ." The boy looked up at her curiously in response to his name. "It's nothing. Go home, dear."
She watched as her student scampered off down the street, turning the corner at a sharp angle. And as she walked slowly back up down to her classroom, she pulled out her mobile, already dialing the phone number.
What did you think for a first chapter? I was kind of disappointed with myself...