Harry Potter had known since he was very young, since before the cupboard, before the hate, and before the hurt, that he was different.

It wasn't the fact that he knew things that he shouldn't, and it wasn't the fact that he learnt much faster than what should be normal.

It wasn't even the fact that he remembered. Not always, only sometimes and never for more than 5 minutes.

Remembered, a smile, his laugh, bright eyes-

Then forgetting until something reminded him-

No, it was the fact that the first thing he learnt, was to count to four.

It was the pounding in his head, the one that left him with spitting headaches, and a want to cry out for something, someone.

It was the, one, two, three, four, that he came to recognise as himself.

Yes, Harry Potter knew he was different.