Harry Potter Doesn't Want to Be a Wizard, He Wants to Be a Superhero

Harry sat at the table, calmly sipping his juice, as if the chaos unfolding around him had absolutely nothing to do with him. His composed demeanor made the Dursleys feel deeply insulted.

What was wrong with the boy today? He dared ignore them, even pretended not to hear Aunt Petunia's shrill commands.

Dudley, as usual, was the first to get in Harry's face. He stomped over with a scowl, greasy fingers reaching out to shove Harry.

"Oi, freak! Mum told you to make breakfast! Get on with it!"

But just as Dudley's hand was about to connect, Harry gave a lazy flick of his wrist. An invisible force struck Dudley square in the chest and sent him tumbling backwards like a sack of potatoes.

For a few stunned seconds, the kitchen fell completely silent. Even Dudley, who usually wailed at the slightest bump, was too dazed to speak. Harry, unfazed, took a bite of buttered bread and dipped it leisurely into the jam.

From Vernon and Petunia's angle, they couldn't see what Harry had done. As far as they knew, Harry had simply pushed Dudley with unusual strength. That was more than enough to make Vernon's pudgy face turn beet red with fury.

"You insolent brat!" he bellowed, his jowls quivering as he barreled toward Harry. "Looks like someone needs a good old-fashioned lesson!"

Vernon lunged, aiming to grab Harry by the collar. But Harry didn't flinch.

The once-terrifying face that had haunted his childhood looked laughably harmless now. Compared to the creatures he'd faced in New York, Vernon Dursley was practically a teddy bear.

Still, Harry had no intention of letting himself be manhandled. He hated being yanked around like a barn owl caught in a net. With a second flick of his hand, a shimmer of golden light pulsed briefly in the air, and Vernon was yanked upward by an unseen force.

He dangled midair by his shirt collar, swinging wildly and thudding into the ceiling like a pendulum.

The effect was instantaneous. Petunia screamed. Dudley screamed louder. Vernon kicked his legs and flailed helplessly.

"Put me down! What in the devil's name is happening?!" Vernon roared.

"Daddy!" Dudley squealed, eyes bulging in horror.

Petunia turned toward Harry, finally realizing who the culprit was. He sat there, still munching his bread as if nothing were amiss. Only one person in the room had the potential for this kind of strange power.

"You! You never even went to that freak school! How are you doing this?!" she shrieked, half-panicked, half-accusatory. "Let him down right now, Harry! Let Vernon go!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. Her tone was less terrified and more suspicious, as though she expected him to have magic but couldn't figure out how he was using it without training.

So... this world had magic too? That changed things.

He thought back to when his powers first awakened in New York. Something about this world was different. Maybe he hadn't been plucked from a mundane life into a magical one. Maybe he'd always belonged to something bigger.

Still, he hadn't intended to hurt Vernon, just scare him a little. The Dursleys had, after all, taken him in for eleven years, even if they'd treated him like a stray cat. With a thought, he released the force holding Vernon aloft.

The man dropped to the floor with a thud and groaned, clutching his stomach.

"You… you little…" he wheezed, glaring at Harry with watery eyes.

But the moment Harry raised his hand again, Vernon snapped his mouth shut and shuffled back to his chair like a grounded walrus, puffing for breath.

Harry smirked. He'd faced demons with blood-stained claws and glowing eyes. Vernon's blustering hatred was practically cute.

Silence fell once more. Petunia and Vernon looked shaken, unsure whether to scold him or run for cover. Dudley sat frozen, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.

Harry polished off the last bite of his bread, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and turned to Petunia with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Alright, Aunt Petunia. I think it's time we had a little chat. You've been keeping secrets. A lot of them. My parents. Magic. That so-called 'freak school.' You're going to tell me everything."

Petunia scowled. "You sound just like her," she muttered bitterly. "Lily always wore that smug look too."

But she knew she had no choice. "Fine. You want the truth? Your parents weren't normal. They were witches. Freaks. And the school's called Hogwarts, a place for training magical lunatics like them."

"Wizards?" Harry echoed softly, ignoring her contempt. So that's where it came from. His magic. His blood.

For a moment, his mind buzzed with thoughts. If he had inherited magic, then that explained everything he'd felt since arriving here. But another question lingered.

"And where are my parents now?"

Petunia's face darkened. Her voice sharpened like a dagger. "Dead. Murdered by some dark wizard. And we—" her voice trembled, not with grief, but with long-buried fear "—we risked our lives taking you in. For years, we barely slept. We thought he'd come for you, come for us. And this is how you repay us? Using magic against us?!"

Her neck stiffened with emotion, fists clenched. She looked more furious than afraid.

Harry blinked. That… was new.

He had no idea they'd lived in fear after his parents died. For the first time, he felt a flicker of sympathy. Maybe Aunt Petunia hadn't always wanted to treat him like a stray dog.

Still, he hadn't forgotten how Vernon and Dudley had treated him. Whatever kindness Petunia might have felt had clearly not extended to stopping them.

After a pause, Harry asked, "My mother was a witch. But you—her sister—aren't? Why?"

The question hit Petunia like a slap.

She snapped. "Because I'm normal!" she shouted. "Not like her. Not like you. Freaks, both of you!"

Harry nodded slowly. Her jealousy was as plain as day. She must have wanted to be a witch too. But when the letter never came, bitterness had taken root.

That explained a lot.

Still, understanding her didn't mean he forgave her. Eleven years of being locked in cupboards and blamed for things he never did wasn't something you just shrugged off.

He tapped a finger against the table thoughtfully, then gave a sly grin.

"You know, Aunt Petunia... maybe there's still hope for you."

She blinked. "What are you babbling about?"

"Magic," Harry said, voice light but deliberate. "I might be able to share it. With the right spell. The right contract."

Petunia scoffed. "I don't want—wait. What did you just say?"

Both Vernon and Dudley snapped out of their stunned silence. All three Dursleys stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Of course," Harry went on, standing up and brushing crumbs off his hands. "You could borrow a little magic."