My name is Lily Potter, and my dad's a Superhero.

Yes, I know at fifteen most of us stop believing that our parents have superpowers, but my dad really has saved the world, twice. He doesn't have a cape and he can't fly on his own, but he does have robes and a broomstick.

It all started when I was seven, my brothers nine and ten. It was late, and my dad wasn't home yet. My mum was extremely mad at him. She's always nervous when he doesn't get home on time. He has a dangerous job, protecting all of us from the evil wizards, an Auror. I told you he's a superhero.

When he got home, he told my mom that he had gone to a Muggle comic store. He said when he lived his Muggle Aunt and Uncle he always stole his cousin's to read them, and he wanted to buy some for my brothers Albus and James. He told my mum, Ginny Potter, that he wanted them to be cultured in some aspects of the Muggle world. My mom and I think he just wanted an excuse to read them himself. My brothers took the first two on the pile, and started reading them. I walked over and asked my dad if I could have the last one, and he nodded his head.

I started reading about Superman, and I was absorbed. Later that night, after dinner, I went over to my dad, who was reading some reports from work. I sat on his lap and he looked up at me, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He put the papers aside and smiled. I had the comic in my hand.

"What's up baby?"

"What is Superman? Is he a muggle or a wizard?" I asked him, my voice filled with curiosity.

"He's not either. He's a superhero." He replied, and took the comic book away from me and flipping the book open to the last page. "See, he just saved the world."

"Just like you daddy!"

"Maybe, but I think Superman did it a few more time than I ever will. He also looks so much better doing it." My dad relied with a chuckle. I laughed too, even though I wasn't exactly sure what was so funny about it.

From then on, I always called him my superhero. He just chuckled and rumpled my hair. I read the other comic books, but my favorite was "Superman." Daddy was my Superman. The best part about it, he never cared that I called him that. Even when I started Hogwarts, he never told me it was too immature. My mom looked like she wanted to, but with a look from dad, she was pacified. Every year before the train pulled away, I told him the same thing.

"Goodbye, Superman. Good luck saving the world!"

"I will, as long as you don't mess it up after words." He would answer every time. There he is now, with my mom waving goodbye. Albus is right next to me, and we're both waving back. I see a little girl, most likely a first year, talking to her friend.

"Is that Harry Potter?" She asked, obviously not a Muggle-born. I turn around, and she looked frightened. I smiled, hopefully reassuringly. It seemed to work, because her eyes became a little smaller.

"Yes, and he's a superhero."

My dad can't see through walls, he's blind as a bat and needs glasses. He doesn't wear blue and red spandex, his hair is uncontrollable though. My dad, the Superhero.