He thought that he was a normal wizard. But on his 17th birthday he woke up to a surprise! Thanks to my beta reader SpikeIsDaBest I have fixed some of the misspelled words and added some to make it all sound better so let me know how it is! I do not own Harry Potter J. R. Rowling does!
It was dark outside four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, with only a few flickering street lamps illuminating the street. Yet it was darker still within the house itself, the only disturbance to the black night a whimpering that was coming from a little room with bars on its window.
In that room lived, for if only the summer holidays since he was 11 years old, one Harry James Potter, the wizarding worlds very own 17 year old boy-who-lived. Harry lay on his bed, black and blue from the latest of his Uncle's beatings, and he was honestly surprised that he was still alive.
Harry looked at the broken clock by his bed and noticed it was a minute before midnight, when he would finally turn 17.
At 12 he quietly said, "Happy Birthday Harry!" to himself, and just as he finished uttering the words, a scream ripped out of his throat all the bones in his body snapped and started to re-grow, all of his pale skin melting away revealing a momentary macabre image of muscle and tissue before quickly re-growing, the previously pallid complexion being replaced by a healthy, even tan.
Just as he was beginning to think the pain was over, Harry then felt a piercing pain about 2 inches above his butt that proved him wrong.
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