It has been several weeks since Harry found the peculiar box in the woods and everything seemed to be relatively normal. Well, not really.
At night Harry kept dreaming about the creature. The weird thing is it didn't have red eyes like it was depicted on the box but vivid green, like his own. It also has a scar just between the horns on its head. A scar that was shaped like- yup, you guessed it- like a lightning bolt. Sometimes he would dream that the creature was fighting fantastical battles against other weird-looking creatures, firing bolts of some kind of pink energy and even sometimes lightning! He's never seen anything like it. He knew they were memories, how, he's still trying to find out.
He also noticed that he could remember things more clearly. Just reading a book once was enough for him now and he could recall information at the drop of a hat. Not that the teachers ever called him in class. He always has to play dumb, well, dumber than his cousin or face the ire of his relatives. Secretly, however, his favourite past time during these last few weeks if he was permitted to go out was going to the library and memorising every book he reads. Maths, Science, Chemistry, everything he could get his hands on. It was fun actually. He probably knew more than any seven-year-old. He had to be careful though as the librarian was getting suspicious on how fast he was consuming books one after another.
Harry knew he wasn't normal. Oh goodness no! He had his suspicions. Things kept happening to him, you see. Things that seemed unexplainable. One time his science teacher was berating him in front of the class for his unseemly appearance and inappropriately sized clothes. Hey, it wasn't his fault! During the annoying woman's rant he felt shame and anger bubble inside him. It was bad enough that she was taking pleasure in putting the 'class delinquent' in his place- she was probably one of Aunt Petunia's book club members. During her rant he had had enough and was about to shout at her when suddenly her wig turned blue! That day was a bad day for one Harry Potter when his Uncle and Aunt found out about it. They swore it was because of his unnaturalness that it happened.
Another time was when he and his cousin Dudley's gang of thugs were playing a 'game' called Harry Hunting. He was trying to outrun his cousin and wishing with all his heart that they never catch him when he blinked and suddenly he was on the roof top of a building. Thankfully, he was able to come back down the way he appeared on top after a few tries. It was kind of cool actually and he tried practicing it every chance he got. It was like magic! His cousin was forever frustrated that he couldn't catch him from then on.
Things would also randomly float when he's upset. Like that one time he was left in his cupboard for a whole day. His relatives visited Aunt Marge and left early in the morning and would be back the next day but entirely, purposefully, forgot about the other occupant in the house. By the time it was noon he was frustrated and hungry that he didn't notice the latch outside his cupboard lifted by itself and the door swung open. He was amazed! Giddily he went out and helped himself to fully a stocked fridge.
After stuffing himself with a delicious ham sandwich Harry thought of what other abilities he had. Aside from floating things with his will alone and Teleporting from place to place, he could also turn wigs blue but maybe he could turn other things into other colors?
He tried concentrating on his faded green shirt for a minute imagining the outcome he wanted.
"Ha!" He did it! Well not exactly. His shirt now looked like it was a mix of faded green and brown. It looked like the paint on his broken toy soldiers. Camouflage, he thinks it was called? Shaking his head, he concentrated on the exact color.
"Hmm. Let's try it again." He scrunched up his nose in concentration and squinted a little bit again imagining what he wanted. Suddenly he felt a tingling sensation from his chest.
"Woah. It worked!" His shirt was now completely a beautiful shade of blue like the sky. The only thing ruining it was that it was twice his size.
"Maybe I do have magic." That was a sobering thought. That was probably why his aunt has that fearful glint in her eyes whenever she looks at him.
No. It's not his fault after all. 'I'm not the one who starves a little kid. I'm not the one who forces a little kid to do an adult's worth of house work since he was five. I'm not the one who leaves a little kid to sleep in a cramped cupboard. I'm not going to apologise for anything!' He thought wiping his damp eyes. Harry knew what was being done to him was illegal but no adult he knew would ever believe him so he only has himself to rely on. It was unfair but he just has to tough it up until he can go to college and get a job. Nodding to himself he went to clean up the dishes but suddenly he felt the world shift. There was a sudden heat in his chest and then it was black.
—-
"Ugh. My head." He thought out loud but all he heard was a high-pitched warbling sound. Surprised he looked around but everything felt wrong. Like his balance was off. Looking down he saw his hand but instead of his normal human hand it was now an odd-looking arm with three long fingers.
"Aahh!!" He stumbled around a bit until he righted himself…or he would but he was floating.
"Woah. I'm flying!" He turned easily in the air looking left and right forgetting his situation for a moment for the shear excitement of flying. He noticed something behind him.
"I have a tail! Wait, isn't this…?" Gasping he tried to catch his tail, or is it hair? It's all very confusing. But he was right. It looked like the one the creature's picture had on the box.
Floating towards the bathroom he opened the the door and tried to look at himself in the mirror.
"No way." He looked exactly like the one in his dreams. Not the box version but one with green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
He also wasn't wearing his necklace but he saw the stone in the middle of his chest buried there. Worried that he might have hurt himself he touched the stone. It was firmly imbedded in the middle of his chest like it was part of the soft flesh. Sighing in relief that nothing hurt he noticed that he still wasn't speaking any words just those warbling sounds he heard earlier.
'Huh. So it was me making those sounds.' He should be more…panicking and less admiring himself in the mirror. But this form felt right. Like he always has been this way or he was meant to be this creature.
'Mewtwo.' That's what he was called. A Mewtwo. He didn't know how but he just did.
"Good thing I'm alone right now or I'm going to be in big trouble." More of the warbling sounds. Well, that was annoying. Huffing he turned away from the mirror and landed on the bathroom floor.
'What now? How do I turn back?' Feeling a tingling in his chest his vision turned. Closing his eyes Harry waited for the sensation to pass.
"I'm me again! And my necklace." Opening his eyes he touched his face and body for a few moments making sure to take stock of everything. Sure enough everything was in order. Next he pulled out his necklace sighing in relief that the stone was still there.
"So I just think of turning into the creature…into Mewtwo and that's it?"
Trying it a second time closing his eyes and thinking of Mewtwo's sleek form, this time the process went a little bit more smooth. Opening his eyes he was again looking in the mirror into the same vivid shade of green eyes and lightning bolt scar but came in an entirely different form.
'I'm an alien!' Snickering into his hand he admired his form for a few more moments. As he stared into the mirror he…remembered. Memories. So many memories. Centuries of it. It was nothing for Harry and it didn't really hurt his brain for, you see, Mewtwo is a powerful Psychic Pokemon. For Harry it was like watching a movie but in fast forward. So many moments, creatures, people he didn't recognise in a time that no one but him no longer remembers. Maybe it's been many eons since then or maybe the memories are from another planet. He, himself, doesn't know.
Finally opening his eyes Harry smiled a sad smile. He knew. Mewtwo was a pokemon that was artificially created for the sake of humanity's greed for power. The power to control powerful beings called Pokemon. Mewtwo was a slave once, fighting and doing the bidding of a Pokemon trainer with delusions of grandeur. But he broke free of those bindings. Freedom. That was all that Mewtwo wanted. The freedom to make its own choices. Harry clenched his fists. It was Harry all ever wanted. To be free of the shackles the Dursleys put on him. And beyond that to be free to make his own life choices.
The memories also showed him something. Something incredible. Pokemon Moves. Mewtwo was created to be powerful and maybe with this power he could finally make something of himself. In time, he would also be as powerful as the original Mewtwo this he vowed to himself.
Sighing and preparing to sleep he casually flicked his hand and all the lights in the kitchen and living room turned off. It was already dark outside but he could still see as clearly during the day.
Opening his cupboard and laying on his cot he thought for a moment. He wanted to try one of the moves Memory Mewtwo knew, Rest. It was a powerful Psyhic type move that lets the user get plentiful of sleep while also curing any ailments the body might have and restoring it to its optimal state.
Thinking clearly and as if by instinct, Harry released and circulated some of his mental energies inside him and commanded his body to Rest.
That night, for the first time, Harry Potter dreamt of flying in the clear night sky. The moon and the stars seemingly within his grasps.