Harry potter The Boy Who Remembers

Harry entered the math classroom with gusto and sat at his usual table. They were doing fractions now, and ten minutes in, he was bored out of his mind. It was so easy, so simple, and so logical. It was something that Harry had been using instinctively in his head. Even now that he was still in class, he didn't even need to think before answering Mrs Robinson's questions. He even found a small mistake, probably a typo, in one of his schoolbooks when he skimmed it.

That should be impossible. There's a difference between being a natural about something and actually knowing the mathematical rules of something he never studied before. It was another sign of his weirdness, and it freaked the young boy out.

The raven-haired boy looked out of the window, contemplating his situation. He didn't need this at all, another sign that Harry Potter wasn't normal. It was starting to happen more often, using words that he had never heard, knowing things that he hadn't learnt. It was like something was coming, and it was closing every second.

Well, Harry had a good lid on his emotions. He looked a calm person on the outside, even if he was inwardly very nervous. It was a skill that Harry developed instinctively. Living in a home that utterly dismissed your existence would do that to a person, but even then, it was too intensive, to normal, for him to be so detached from his emotions like this. His aunt even called him a sociopath behind his back. He read about it in the library, and he felt that it was a wrong diagnosis. Harry felt his emotions, and understood them, he simply didn't know how to express them properly. And it's not like living with loathsome people like the Dursleys would ever make him a mentally healthy person anyway.

It's not like Harry ever pretended to not be messed up. Oh, he was, but compared to the whiny, entitled, arrogant, violent, spoilt boy that Dudley was growing up to be, he was a far more adjusted person. Honestly, it baffled the young man how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't notice how much they were mistreating their child by giving him exactly whatever he wanted.

Honestly, Harry had never seen them ever refuse him anything, and that was just wrong. It wouldn't be too surprising for the obese boy to end up caught committing a crime if he ever survives to that age considering the probable heart condition he would most likely develop.

It's not like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were any better. Vernon Dursley was a bootlicker that acts like he was in line for the Throne of England. His wife had her head in the cloud and ignores everything that she doesn't like – which happens to mostly be her nephew – and pretends to be some sort of noble lady from the Middle Ages.

Alright, Harry had his issues with both of them, but he still appreciates what they have done for him. He had no illusions that the Dursleys' financial situation was very fragile before Uncle Vernon's promotion.

Harry's unexpected addition to the household, and the expenses that come with him, made Vernon work like a bull to stay afloat. Of course, he ended up being rewarded years later for his dedication with a big promotion, but he could have easily just sent him to the orphanage, no matter what rumours might appear in the neighbourhood, and Harry appreciated this. It was why he tried his best not to make things more difficult for his relatives.

Harry's contemplation was broken by Mrs Robinson asking him a question, "Mr Potter, are you paying attention?"

"Of course, Mrs Robinson," the boy answered back, lying through his teeth.

"Then can you tell me what's the answer to this problem, young man?"

Harry immediately looked at the board and saw the basic problem, "The fraction can be simplified to two sevenths."

It was ridiculously easy, as was the most of mathematics that he had ever seen. It always came to him easier than anything else. It was a shame that the school library didn't have any schoolbooks past his year. It was a primary school, after all. And the public library was too far away to go regularly. So far, Harry spent most of the time bored out of his mind in class. So, it was easier to lose himself in his own thoughts, than pay attention to his painfully slow lessons.

Speaking of the teacher, she pursed her lips in dissatisfaction and continued her lecture, ignoring Harry's answer completely. Mrs Robinson was a friend of Aunt Petunia and thus has learnt to dislike Harry on principle. The young boy didn't know what his aunt told her, but she was always trying to get him in trouble.

Harry returned back to his thoughts, ignoring the rest of the lesson, until the bell ran, signalling that it was lunchtime.