HP: Harry The Gamer

Harry Potter was a brilliant runner. For all the running he did, he had to be.

Sometimes he would run from things like his Uncle and Aunt...their reprimands...their resentment...even their anger.

Other times, he'd run from his freakishness, for whatever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said about him being a completely normal delinquent, the freakishness was always there, haunting him like creeping wisps of mist under his skin.

Sometimes, it showed...sometimes turning someone's wig blue and sometimes closing a cut on Harry's hands in mere seconds.

And even other times he'd run from the dreams that haunted his nights, bringing out flashes of memories of a red-haired woman and a sickly green light filling his vision.

He'd throw his best shield up against all those problems; sarcasm, anger, dry wit; trying to slow them down.

And he'd run.

Harry Potter was a brilliant runner after all.

"C'mere Potter!"

Right now, he was getting in his fair share of practice running from his overstuffed pumpkin of a cousin Dudley 'Duddykins' Dursley, a rather obese boy who looked like he could drape his many flaps of stomach fat over his hips and never need to wear any pants again.

Well, one could call it running, but it was more of a slow jogging, or perhaps even a lazy ambling. Considering the massive bulk that Dudley sported, the youngest of the Dursleys would have trouble outrunning a dead snail.

Harry grinned at Dudley, taunting him, and took off running towards the park in the Surrey area.

It was there that he was caught in an ambush. Dudley's friend and Harry's co-tormentor Piers Polkiss was waiting for his victim near the park gates!

Harry, instead of panicking, dashed right towards Piers. Swiftly dodging the punch Piers threw at him, he rushed into the park and started running in earnest.

If Dudley had brought Piers, then the rest of his gang would be nearby. And while Harry was fast, he wasn't fast enough to escape an all-out ambush by the entire Duddikins Army.

Sure enough, all but a few moments later, Malcolm, Redgie and the rest of the gang had him surrounded. Dudley jogged over to his caged prey, panting heavily.

"We...we got you now...Potter!" Dudley said in between heaving breaths.

They cracked their knuckles and prepared to pummel Harry with punches when suddenly, a familiar voice cracked across the near-empty playground.

"WHAT is going ON here?!"

Harry turned towards the direction of the voice and groaned when he recognized the source.

It was their Chemistry teacher, Ms. Roemmele. The tall and rather strict looking teacher was a master of reprimanding and punishing students, yet while in class, she spoke with a voice so devoid of enthusiasm that to Harry it seemed as if she had given up on life and like most teachers in the day's economy, was hoping for a quick and painless death. She would have been sad to look at, had she not been so utterly terrifying.

"MISTER Dudley Dursley!" she snapped, and the little knot in Harry's stomach uncoiled a little. The she-devil wasn't here for him.

Slowly, he shuffled along towards the nearest cover, a swing set, hoping to hide out the storm and leave unharmed.

"I come to your home for a teacher's visit," Ms. Roemmele continued, "Only to find that not only did you not inform your parents about my coming, but also that you're fooling around and hassling people in parks! And you Mr. Polkiss! Rest assured your parents will be getting a visit from me about this.

The rest of you can count yourself in for that as well! Now scram!"

They all stood frozen on their spots.

"SCRAM!"

The entire gang disappeared from the park in seconds, running as fast as they could.

With the rest of her targets gone, she turned to look at Harry, who was slowly trying to get away unnoticed. "And you! Mr Potter! Come here!"

Harry sighed. His desperate attempt at what he assumed was a sideways moonwalk was all in vain. He sighed, before he walked over to her, "Ah...yes ma'am"

"Come," she said, surprising Harry with her quiet tone, "I will drop you off at your house."

A bit wary of what was to come, since teachers taking special notice of Harry had never quite ended well, he started walking towards Number 4 Privet Drive with the strict teacher walking by his side.

Through the corner of his eyes, he caught her staring at his forehead. Harry's hand went up automatically and self-consciously brushed against his scar. Ms. Roemmele seemed to catch herself and looked away.

Perhaps she was wondering how he got such an oddly specific lightning bolt shaped scar, Harry thought.

"Have you prepared for the test on the historical and archaeological evidence of the origin of modern chemistry?" she asked after walking in silence for about five minutes.

"Er...no ma'am." he truthfully replied. He rarely studied for any test these days, since the Dursleys had a tendency to get pissy any time he outscored Dudley.

She set him with a piercing look. "I expect better of you Mr. Potter. Haven't you understood how important these so-called 'history lessons,' as your classmates have taken to calling them, are to your future education."

Harry shrugged, "I'm sorry Ms. Roemmele, but weren't we supposed to do the periodic table, last class? It's going to be in the finals and if I don't score well then Aunt Petunia won't be very happy about it."

Ms. Roemmele shook her head, and keeping her gaze on the street in front of her, spoke, "Exams aren't everything Mr. Potter. History teaches us many things.

Roman paintings discovered in the 1600s tell us that people then believed in dragons and somehow had knowledge of reptilian biology that the Western World hadn't discovered till the late 1900s.

People who believed in Alchemy, like the French Nicholas Flamel inspired most of the modern nuclear chemistry we see today in our lives.

That is why we need to learn about these stories Mr. Potter-to understand where we come from, and what stories influenced the great people who built our world."