Chapter Three
Harry awoke two days after the accident. He pieced together what had happened the day of the accident, with some assistance from the doctors. One of the doctors on duty the day Harry was brought in told him that there was one specific man who really helped him. Harry would have liked to thank the man but he had no idea who it was. He felt foolish for reacting so rashly to the situation. He still couldn't remember anything after the enormous amount of pain he had felt and then he had heard a high-petrified scream, but after that he remembered nothing.
The Dursleys visited him about twice in the next three weeks. The doctors were satisfied with Harry's recovery. During surgery it looked like Harry would never fully recover as it seemed like part of his brain had shut down yet near the end he was showing more brain activity than was usual. His recovery was most amazing and a near miracle according to the doctors.
When he left, on a rainy November evening, he was accompanied by a nurse who he had come to know from his stay in the hospital. She smiled sadly as she watched the young boy make his way down the exit of the hospital where a shiny silver car awaited him. The people in the car were waiting impatiently and as Harry neared the car where the Dursleys sat, Uncle Vernon got out in a huff and nearly dragged Harry into the backseat.
The nurse was shocked by this behavior, the young boy was only new to his crutches and wasn't yet accustomed to them, hence the slow exit, but couldn't the intolerant and rude man give the boy a chance. She nearly started crying when Harry straightened himself up in the car and gave her what he thought was a comforting smile. She didn't have the ability to interfere in other people's business so she did all she could and gave him a wave goodbye, which he returned.
Harry sighed inwardly as they neared Privet Drive. For a few moments before the accident he had believed he would never have to enter the house again, a moment of pure happiness even through his panic, but now he was returning and he could barely walk, he was a sitting target for Dudley.
Harry was correct with most of his assumptions; he usually was as he lived with a family like the Dursley's. Walking with the aid of crutches was difficult at first and Dudley spent a lot of his time trying to trip Harry up, but soon Harry grew used to them. Harry was relieved to find that they were quite easy to manage, because in no time at all he was returning to school. His teacher was insufferable to say the least. Ms. Hannon was a short, blond woman who spoke in a thick welsh accent. She insisted that Harry retell the story of the accident to the rest of the class and then she spent a few weeks teaching the class on proper road safety in order to prevent another accident.
Christmas passed as usual in the Dursley household. Aunt Petunia cooked a delicious feast and Uncle Vernon found the tallest Christmas tree which would fit into the living room of Number Four, while Dudley received all the Christmas presents he had wanted. Harry also spent Christmas as usual, locked away in his cupboard pretending he didn't exist.
Snow never made its way to Little Whinging so January passed by slowly and unnoticed. February followed, with no sign of change. Harry spent all of his time in his cupboard, his leg was still in a cast, the damage to it might have been irreparable had it not been for Harry's strength in recovery. He had had two operations on it while in hospital and was due to have the cast removed mid-March.
And so March arrived, bringing with it gusty winds and casual rain. Harry was counting down the days till he could be relieved of his cast. He had grown to hate it. It made him fell vulnerable as more than once Dudley's gang had thrown things at him as he made his way home from school.
It was a wet and miserable day as Harry was packing his things away into his school-bag. He was truly bored as all they had been doing was drawing pictures and then coloring them in. Harry didn't view this as learning and thought it was childish. He glanced out the window as the class lined up at the door waiting for the sound of the bell. The rain was falling heavily against the windows, the sound was almost deafening. Harry noticed a few cars waiting outside the school gates, parents that had come to collect their children and prevent pneumonia. Dudley would probably get a lift off one of his friend's parents.
Harry sighed as he made his way out the exit of the school. By the time he reached the green school gates he was completely frozen. Shivering, he opened the gate and walked through it. He lost his balance occasionally as his crutches slid on the slippery pavement. He got a glimpse of Dudley getting into Mrs. Polkiss' land rover. He gave Harry a very sly smile then laughed. Harry ignored him and continued his way home. Suddenly he heard someone shout his name and he turned around to find himself face to face with the remaining members of Dudley's gang. Before he knew it they had encircled him. Dennis stepped out of the circle. "How's your leg, Potter. Is it still hurting you," he asked with a sneer on his face.
Then Dennis moved to kick Harry's leg. Harry shut his eyes waiting for the pain to strike. He wanted everything to stop. He didn't want to feel the pain. But it never happened. Then it seemed that all sound had stopped, the silence was deafening to Harry. He opened his eyes to find Dennis still in the same position of kicking, but he was moving twice as slow. It seemed to Harry as if Dennis was in slow motion. Harry looked around to find his surroundings were in the same way as Dennis.
Suddenly Harry started thinking again. He moved his leg out of the dangerous position it was in now. He was amazed to find he still moved at the same speed. Then Harry heard a piercing noise in the back of his head. He turned around to see he was faced with a fist. He ducked and the fist made its slow progression over where his head had been moments ago. Then Harry aimed a punch at the owner of the fist, Gordon, and Gordon was thrown off his feet.
Then, through a blast of noise Harry realized time had returned to normal. He turned to see Dudley's gang with looks of pure shock on their faces. They had all tried to hit him and he had dodged all their attempts. Harry realized he was out of breath, he must have been moving quite fast. Yet to Harry he had been moving at a normal rate. "H…how did y...you do that," asked Dennis, a tone of disbelief in his voice. "Nobody can move that quick. It's impossible."
Gordon stood up from the wet ground. His trousers were soaked but he had a heavy jacket so he wasn't shaking as Harry was. He had a look of fury on his face but obviously didn't want to fight Harry again. "You freak!" he shouted, then he ran and shortly after Dennis and Malcolm followed.
Harry's mind was racing as he made his way back to the Dursley's. How had he gained such attuned reflexes? What was that shrill noise he had heard that warned him of Gordon's fist?
The next few weeks flew by. Harry gladly had his cast removed. He was still baffled as to his new reflexes. He hadn't had the chance to test them out again. Harry guessed that his reflexes only worked in moments of danger.
Soon the summer was making its way towards Little Whinging. The sun was shining every morning blinding those who dared to look at it. The children were growing restless with the thought of the holidays and Harry finished school. Next year he would be going to the local comprehensive, Stonewall High. He was looking forward to it; for once he wouldn't be with Dudley as he was going to Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings.
Harry began hear the noises in the back of his head. They weren't shrill and piercing though, it was a light buzzing. They happened very rarely. Only once had Harry reacted to them.
He had been on his way home from the local library after saying farewell to Mr. Kravitov. He had heard the light buzzing and quickly turned around on the spot. He noticed a man looking at him. The man had long greasy black hair that curtained his face. He wore a long black cloak. Harry immediately noticed his hooked nose.
He would have laughed had he not been very apprehensive of the man. When he looked around again the man had vanished. This brought Harry to the conclusion that maybe the noises in the back of his head were not signs of his insanity, but warnings, maybe Harry had somehow gained another sense, a sixth sense.
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