Steampunk Harry

Harry Potter was an… odd sort of boy. His relatives thought so, his teachers thought so, his friend thought so. Just so you know, that was meant to be singular.

Harry Potter, or, as he preferred to be called, Langdon "Ray" Aleksandar Hargreaves had many… odd interests. His friend made the name up based on his passion for "Steampunk" anything. Harry's friend was a young girl, a year younger than himself, who had been rather taken with his inventions (not to mention his… attire). Her name was Rose, although the name given to her by Harry was Evangeline Deryn Melrose

Although "Rosy", as Harry insisted on calling her, was greatly influenced by her "older brother" and all the Steampunk novels she read, she was much less… odd. For one, she dressed like regular 9 year old girl, except for the goggles and contraptions her "brother" bestowed upon her, and two, she was of average intellect. Her looks were ordinary, with her long chestnut hair in little ringlets and her hazel eyes, she was pretty enough with a button nose, and a constant smile on her chapped lips. And she was clever, yes, but no child genius. But Harry, Harry was what one might call a prodigy. By five years old he was reading through all the sci-fi and fantasy books at the library, by seven he was nearly finished all the books on science theory and engineering, and by ten years of age, he was inventing, reinventing, modifying and fixing things. First it was toys, all the little action figures and playthings his cousin had broken, then it was small electronic toys, and eventually he was rewiring the broken computer tossed into his bedroom, and covering it in bronze plating and odd gadgets.

His looks were rather… odd as well. His eyes were unnaturally bright, with an intelligent gleam, and suspicion people don't often expect to see in a boy so young. They were also covered by Brass goggles he had made from his old bottle cap glasses. His hair was tangled in waves just past his ears, black as coal, and soft to the touch. His knees were knobbly, but no one could tell from under his gentlemen's trousers. He was thin, unusually so, and a smidge shorter than the other boys his age. He wore a button up shirt, with gadgets on his cufflinks, under an "aristocrat's" black waistcoat detailed in silver with a brass pocket watch (homemade, of course) hanging from the pocket and all covered by a Steampunk tailcoat.

To be perfectly honest, Harry enjoyed being odd. Ever since he was little, for as long as he could recall, his relatives had made it perfectly clear that he was… normal. He would always think this word with no little amount of disgust; those people were normal, but not him. He was extraordinary, and he knew it. But if anyone were weird it was most definitely his aunt and uncle. When he was nine, they had blown a gasket when Dudley had asked Harry if magic were real. This of course was absurd.

Of course, the answer had been no. And then, Harry had been granted his own room. Although his family didn't much care that he was a prodigy, the fact that he believed in Science and nothing else seemed to please them greatly. As a matter of fact, they asked him about imaginary things such as "post-owls" and "magic" on a regular basis of about once a month. Harry found the concept of magic interesting, but the reality of technology was a much stronger pull.

It wasn't much of a surprise when the offer made by a scout who had come by looking for children worthy of applying for a scholarship for gifted children, was accepted on the spot by the young boy.

By the end of Harry's tenth summer he was enrolled in Genesis School for Prodigies. On September the 7th he was driven to the airport by Rosy and her family (just because they weren't terrible, didn't mean his relatives were nice) and boarded his plane to Greece after many a heartfelt goodbye.

Tipping his English topper one last time, he walked away, waved over his shoulder and told of many letters, and a promise to "invent you a post-owl!"