1-Autumn 1987

It was Harry's safe haven. Whenever he wanted to get away from Dudley and his gang, he would hide in the public library. Dudley probably didn't know that such a place even existed and would certainly not be interested if he knew. Besides, the librarian wouldn't allow any violence there, if only because it would cause some noise.

At first, it was just a place to hide and recuperate. Then, the curiosity of the seven-year boy got piqued. He started looking at the titles, occasionally picking a book and browsing through it. There was something weird, though, something "freaky", about the books he picked. No matter in which section he happened to look, the books that he browsed through were always having a certain subject repeat itself. Magic. There were fairy-tale books and story books and fantasy books and even a few books that seemed to be quite scientific. And they all seemed interesting.

He couldn't say they had anything in common besides that subject. They varied in names; they had different authors; some were just small books for young children while others were for youngsters and even for adult readers. It was weird.

That late autumn day, he came all panting, after barely escaping Dudley and his gang. They had ambushed him at a new, unexpected, location and almost got him. Once inside, he tiptoed to a hidden section and plopped down on a chair, trying to catch his breath.

He was too tired to look around but he needed a distraction. He just took the first book he could grab without leaving his chair.

He leafed through the title and contents pages without paying them any attention. He only noticed that it seemed a really old book. The first chapter was titled "Finding your Core".

'That's a funny title,' he thought, before starting reading.

"A young child is usually unable to control his core, especially when excited or frightened. This may cause very unpredictable events. Some examples may be: the child finds himself at a certain place without ever going there; injuries are healed much quicker than expected; the child's hair may grow untamable, especially if somebody else tries to do something with that hair; things may fly in the air to or from him and even explode, especially when the child is stressed.

Such events may endanger the child or people close to him.

A child needs to gain control of his core before he can prevent these accidental events. Most children are not able to gain control before they reach ten, yet most have enough control to start learning to use it by eleven."

While everything seemed logical, he failed to see what that "core" might be. He turned back to the title page, hoping to better understand.

The title, "How to gain control of your magic – the ultimate guide for magical children in non-magical environments", would have been innocent enough if it wasn't about Magic, yet what he'd just read made Harry think a bit. The weird events described there were quite similar to what his uncle called "freakishness". Was that really magic? He needed to read some more.

Two hours later, he was brought back to reality when the librarian asked him to leave. It was closing time.

"May I borrow this book?" he pleaded.

She glanced at the book once. "It isn't a library book. We have more than enough copies of Oliver Twist and this one is not ours."

Harry glanced at the book again. He could still see the title, but another title seemed to be superimposed on it, reading "Oliver Twist".

"Well, thank you anyway. May I come here to read it? I can't find another place where I can read quietly."

The stern librarian smiled. "You're welcome to spend some time here whenever you want, as long as you keep the library rules and leave before closing time."

It was a treasure for Harry. He was very careful on his way back to Privet Drive and managed to outsmart Dudley, arriving home just a few minutes before his cousin. He hid the book in his school bag, noticing that the book changed its appearance, looking like an old math book.

Harry spent as much time as he could on reading that book. By the end of the week, he'd read it from cover to cover and also did some of the exercises recommended in the book. The more he read, the more it became clear: he had some Magic in him and that caused all the weird events and brought him the name Freak from his uncle.

A certain paragraph stuck into his mind. "In order to be able to control his magic, the child needs to first be in good physical shape. Daily exercise is recommended. Running for half an hour under controlled environment is a good exercise, as it develops many muscles and strengthens the heart while also making one's stamina rise as well as one's determination. Swimming may be an even better exercise, but that is not available freely to most British children."

He knew he had no chance of convincing his uncle to let him learn swimming, but he could run. He was actually running each day, if only to get away from Dudley and his gang, yet this was usually no more than a short sprint. To really exercise, he would need to get up earlier and run around the neighborhood for half an hour before starting to work on breakfast. Harry thought he could do it. His uncle and aunt might even be glad to see him awake so early.

Harry read the relevant pages a few more times before deciding on his exercise regime. He would run for half an hour each weekday. He couldn't run Sundays, but he could do some exercises in his cupboard, like push-ups or sit-ups. He wondered what he could wear, though. None of Dudley's hand-me-down's which he was wearing seemed appropriate for running and he didn't even have enough of them to risk sweating too much, or he would stink at school. Yet getting in shape physically could help him control his magic, reducing his "freakishness". Hopefully, that would make his relatives treat him a bit better.

His watch, also one of Dudley's rejects, had an alarm feature which he was using daily to wake up on time for preparing breakfast. He set it to almost an hour earlier before going to bed. He was usually sleeping long enough, as he was forbidden from watching television and barely allowed to sit at the kitchen table to do his homework.

It was still dark outside when he woke up. He dressed quietly and put on his most comfortable pair of sneakers. He used the guest toilet to wash his face and then walked to the kitchen to use the back door.

"I didn't expect you to wake up so early," he heard a voice speaking quietly.

Raising his eyes he noticed his aunt Petunia sitting at the kitchen table, holding a steaming cup between her hands and looking thoughtfully at him.

Harry wasn't sure what he should say. Deciding that the truth would be best, he said, "I've read something in the library which made me think that if I make myself fitter, then I may have better control and stop the freaky events around me. I thought it was worth a try."

Petunia still looked at him with an undecipherable glance.

"I think you should drink something warm before going out to the cold. Take a glass of milk before you go."

Harry was surprised but dared not disobey. A glass of milk was many times all he got for breakfast.

They didn't speak. Harry heated the milk and then drank it in a few gulps. He still said, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," before going out and starting running.

It didn't go as he had planned. His running trajectory should have been finished in half an hour, yet he felt out of air just after he reached halfway. Eventually, it took him almost an hour before he stumbled exhausted back into the kitchen.

His uncle and his cousin were already there, looking extremely annoyed. His aunt snapped at him, "Have you caught up with the milkman and taken the missing bottle?"

Harry couldn't really speak yet. He just shook his head, wondering what she had in mind.

"Well, as you've failed to get the other bottle, we only have one milk bottle instead of two, so you'll only get half a glass to drink. Now, take a shower so you don't make the kitchen stink, and hurry up! You still need to clean it before going to school!"

He barely made it, yet his aunt gave him a slice of bread and cheese along with the half glass of milk. It was uncommonly nice to have so much for breakfast, but he didn't question his luck. Two minutes after Dudley left, Petunia said, "The kitchen is clean enough. Now hurry, or you'll miss the bus."

At school, Harry talked with his Physical Fitness instructor. "I want to start exercising on my own to become fitter. I've read that running for half an hour each day is a good way to do it. Can you tell me how to do it right?"

The instructor was just too happy to help him, as not many children were showing any interest in the subject. Harry found out he was doing it all wrong. He needed to do some warming exercises before starting to run, and do it gradually.

That evening, Harry planned a different route for the next few days, until he could run at a constant speed for the whole half hour. He decided to start by just running to the closest junction and back, doing it as many times as it would take to fill half an hour. Once he could do this with ease, he would make a longer trajectory and try to run faster. He also decided to wake up ten minutes earlier, so he could do some warm-up exercises before running.

Petunia was already in the kitchen when he woke up, with a lukewarm glass of milk in front of his chair. "Try not to exhaust yourself. It would serve nothing," she told him.

He repeated this routine for about a week, before deciding on a longer route, which also provided some more visual stimulation, passing along the park and some shop fronts. His aunt didn't say much, really, and as he was making sure to come back on time and do some cool-off exercises as well, he wasn't overly sweaty when returning. His uncle and cousin didn't seem to notice anything. They would just come for breakfast, wolf all that they could get hold of and move on.

That Sunday, Vernon took Dudley to watch a football game leaving Petunia with Harry at home. Harry expected to be ordered to do the usual weekend chores, of cleaning the house and tending the garden. He was somewhat surprised when she called him to the kitchen and told him to sit down.

"Have I done anything wrong?" he asked worriedly. Although she'd been less demanding lately, and he still remembered her covering up for his first running flop, he wasn't sure about her. He was even more cautious of her, not knowing what to expect.

"No, Harry. I just wanted to know how you're doing with your running. We don't have time in the mornings, you know."

He was even more surprised as she put a cup of tea and some biscuits in front of him, along with the cup she was taking for herself.

"I think I'm doing fine. I don't tire too early and don't sweat so much now, maybe because it's getting really cold. I also do it faster each day. I've not tried running the original path I had in mind, the one I barely finished the first day I tried."

"Does it help you with... the other stuff?"

"I'm not sure. The last few weeks were not too stressful and nothing 'freaky' happened near me that I'm aware of. I'm not sure if it really means I have better control now."

He sipped his tea quietly. His aunt was looking at him with that undecipherable glance once again. A question was nagging at him to be asked, although he considered it very dangerous. It could possibly change his aunt back to her old self. He liked the new one better. Yet his curiosity eventually won.

"Aunt Petunia, what made you change the way you treat me?" he asked against his better judgment.

Her face hardened and he was almost sure she'd snap back at him, proving the change to be just some accident. Yet her face mellowed again a second later. "My sister was about your age now when she started showing her special talents," she said softly, her eyes suddenly glistening.

"You mean my mother? Was she a freak like me?"

His aunt grimaced at his words and her face hardened once again. "Lily wasn't a freak!" she said harshly. "Lily was a witch, a wonderful, powerful and kind witch, just as you are not a freak, despite what Vernon says."

"A witch?"

She smiled tightly. "A witch is a woman, or a girl, who can do magic. A man, or a boy, who can do magic is called a wizard. You are a wizard, Harry."

She noticed that he wasn't as surprised as she would have expected. He must have already known at least some of it. Was it what he had read at the library?

Harry was still thinking deeply of this new revelation when he heard her ask, "Have you already known any of this?"

Harry lifted his eyes to her. "At first, I didn't know anything. It was just that whatever book I happened to pick at the library mentioned magic in one way or another. Then, that day I just grabbed the closest book to the chair I was sitting on, I found the book about exercising. It explained some things about magic and how it connects with fitness."

"Do you have it here?"

Harry was still reluctant, yet he nodded.

"Show it to me, please. Don't worry, I'll let you keep it."

Harry grabbed his bag and found the book.

"Isn't that an old math book?" she asked, quite annoyed.

"The librarian thought it was a spare copy of Oliver Twist, but I read different things in it." Harry sounded quite apologetic.

"It's protected, then," Petunia said, almost to herself. "Can you read the title for me?"

"It is How to gain control of your magic – the ultimate guide for magical children in non-magical environments. Have you heard of it?"

Petunia looked a bit sad. "I believe your magic put that book in your path so you could gain control. Keep it safe. Don't let either Dudley or Vernon know about it, and try not to let any of your magic escape control, causing some 'freaky' happenings. When you finally succeed in doing some intentional magic, though, I'd like to see it."

"I'll show you," he promised.

They heard Vernon's car coming into the parking. Petunia's attitude and voice changed immediately. "Now, boy, clean the counter well and make it sparkle!" she said harshly, putting away the biscuits, just as the door was opening.