Food 4 Life Club

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**Harry Potter

Barely audible, Harry was humming a hauntingly beautiful song just under his breath. No human of this world, either muggle or wizard, would ever hear it as he had. They wouldn't be able to remember it if they did, much less sing it themselves. Harry was special though. He was something. . . More.

A small smile curved the boy's lips, he was still a young adolescent, not even old enough to get his wings in by the standards of supernaturals and by the standards of humans, not old enough to have lost all his baby teeth. He was very much still a boy.

At this moment, he was feeling rather pleased with himself. He had, after all, just spelled himself to be capable of retaining all the food he'd wished to eat, and it was working to great effect. Even after all he had eaten, he didn't feel the tiniest bit queasy.

Harry had heated and eaten all the leftovers in the fridge, which he had every right to. He'd cooked the food, and he'd worked as a slave for nine long years. He'd then consumed half a loaf of soft Italian bread that he'd turned into garlic bread, two large slabs of sourdough toast with butter and raspberry jam, six eggs scrambled to fluffy perfection, and half a package of bacon, cooked. By now, he had a food baby so large, he looked four months pregnant.

By some miracle, or supreme level of obliviousness, the Dursleys had yet to awaken. Harry had learned that, based on his actions, the charm both he and his toddler self had so loathed had been broken. Nothing was left to bind him into acting normal except his own desire to.

He could be anything or anyone he wished to be, and there was no one on this plane that could stop him. He also didn't have to read the thoughts of those around him if he did not wish to, for which he was very grateful. His fat pig of a cousin, Dudley, had been dreaming he had a girlfriend.

Feeling light as air, he spun around the kitchen. When the honey-like feeling had been coursing through his system, it really had healed all of his injuries. Over the years, Harry had learned that one's injuries tended to get in the way, and that slowly (or not so slowly) drove the bearer crazy.

This morning, he'd found even his scars were gone. Well, excepting his lightning bolt shaped one. That one was magical in nature, and had also been gained prior to his turning to a normal(-ish) child.

The abuse he'd suffered when living with the Dursleys had not really affected his personality as much as it would have with most people. In his situation, he was so altered that his memories were more like remembering a tv show than his own life. Being a different person made it as if the abuse had been done to someone else.

What the Dursleys had done made his blood boil. It was as if they'd done it to a close friend of his, or anyone, really. He hated every person who could do that to someone else, no matter who that someone else was to him personally.

Back to waiting, he thought on how he literally had years of entertainment stored inside his head. He could watch real people's lives, and from different perspectives. It was like movies, except he got to hear personal feelings of everyone and could skip over the boring parts.

There was also the very long list of episodic television shows stored in his head and movies that Lily, his 'mum' had seen as a kid and teenager. But she had bad taste, and Harry wasn't very interested in television.

Of course, there was also magic, which he'd only just begun to tinker with. There were just so many options open to him now! It was positively enthralling, knowing how many things were out there, just waiting for him to explore them.

Harry figured that his Hogwarts letter would be arriving in about six months or so, and that he really ought to be at this address when it came. Harry didn't want anyone to be suspicious of him, and that meant keeping his newfound freedom a secret from the liar, who he rightfully didn't trust a wink.

While Dumbledore's power was negligible when compared to his, he could still do a great deal of damage to Harry if he got it into his head that it was necessary. Not to mention trouble for him, just by existing the old coot got in the way of certain plans.

He knew that after taking care of the Dursleys, he'd have a lot of things he needed to get done before school started, not the least of which was getting as many books as he possibly could.

He needed a way to derive an income substantial enough to support any and all excesses he desired. After all, while it may be necessary to play the part of being an average kid, who was timid, naïve, and poor at school, he had no intention on maintaining that image outside of it.

Biting into his first ever brownie, Harry immediately had to wash it down with milk. Brownies are way too sweet for him to be eating this early in the morning.

Setting the rest of the brownie aside, he concluded somewhat randomly that he ought to make a secondary main glamour. After all, certain things he wished to get were more easily obtainable to an adult than to a child.

Harry knew that it was impossible for more than a handful of wizards currently alive to cast and maintain a glamour for an extended period of time. It took massive amounts of magic, and a very stable magical core to cast a glamour at all, and maintaining it was a continual drain on one's magic.

He could cast one as easy as blinking, and maintain it with the same ease. He'd been glamouring himself ever since he heard the thoughts of the assistant who delivered him as a baby. He hadn't wanted to be the strangest baby that anyone had ever seen. So, for all these years, he'd been constantly glamoured, and had every intention of staying that way.

Creating a glamour that not only changed his immediate physical appearance, but the size of his body was more complicated than a simple misrepresentation of features. Forgetting a single aspect of one's image causes your magic to indiscriminately fill it in.

Once when he had been three months old, he'd performed such a glamour, not knowing that if he forgot to add a scent, a random one would be put in place instead of his own baby odor. He'd ended up smelling like stale cigarette smoke and watermelon sorbet, and had never again forgotten to add a scent.

The Dursleys were likely to all sleep another hour, it was only six, and in the summer Petunia didn't rouse herself until seven. This window left Harry time to settle on a glamour he liked, and at least start forming it.

If he wanted the glamour to be easy for him to hold, he'd have to practice it multiple times, giving himself time to get accustomed to each part of the shift. As he knew his memory wasn't 100% eidetic, he had to be very aware that any hasty actions on his part could result in slip ups.

Figuring it would be easiest for him to use a reference image to get his proportions accurate, he went to the living room in search of Dudley's magazines. Some of them were filled with pictures of pretty girls, but he was after the car and motor ones that had a lot of very attractive men in them.

While he understood why Harry Potter, twin brother of James Evan Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived had to be ordinary looking to make him easy to overlook, he saw zero reason to make his adult persona bland and forgettable. Wasn't there also a statistic about attractive people being more likely to score a job?

Taking the three magazines he wanted, he went to the bathroom so he could sort out the specifics in front of a full length mirror. It was very important that this was done well, because using glamours in the wizarding world had a higher risk of discovery. The stronger the glamour, the more real it would appear to those around him, making him expend less magic forcing them to ignore any forgotten tells that gave away his glamoured state.

The magazines he'd taken were frequently gone over, and Harry found the softened pages easy to skim through. As he went, he marked possible options with bookmarks of shimmering purple magic. He did this for all three, and in the end was left with eight that he liked.

One stood out definitively for him, and it was one of a man who was naturally attractive with an easy going air that could easily switch to threatening. Harry would appreciate being able to telegraph his feelings so easily.

Focusing in on the picture, he imagined himself becoming the man he'd chosen. 5, 10" with honey gold skin and dark brown hair that was artfully tousled but still natural looking. His eyes turned a rich chocolate brown and his lips appeared soft to the touch, with the lower slightly fuller.

Maybe twenty-two, he had a boldly carved face. Thick brows, slightly angled cheekbones, and a square jaw marked his profile, long lashes seeming incongruous yet somehow working. He was still skinny, because as a person Harry was still severely malnourished, but his knew look was pretty good. After some adjustments, this would work quite well.

Making faces in the mirror, he adjusted his teeth so they weren't unnaturally perfect. His smile was still beautiful though, and he slightly toned down his literally white teeth. He altered his eyebrows infinitesimally, knowing that no natural person had perfectly symmetrical brows. Harry then added a slight shadowing of hair to his jaw, aware that most men usually weren't bare faced, and especially that they didn't stay that way all day.

The glamour still wasn't completely finished, so he forced himself to imagine a scent. He chose a faint lemon and pine scent, and left it as light as he could. As he hammered out a few more minor alterations, he told himself firmly that this was who he was.

He looked like this. He was Harry, and he looked like this naturally. He gently eased more magic into the spell, and sighed as the glamour became reality. It was like he popped into place, and now he truly was this person in the mirror.

Ensuring that when he next wished to replicate this look he could do it properly, he turned it rapidly on and off until he felt it firmly rooted within him. He'd never forget how to glamour himself like this. Any time he wished, he could become an adult with a mere suggestion of thought and a twitch of his hand.

Secure in himself, Harry shifted to his usual glamour, a boy with dull green eyes, messy black hair, a tiny figure, and a timid bearing. His true form was actually a little smaller, but he liked the extra four inches he'd added. Harry knew that he was still undersized even with his glamoured four inches, but such was his life.

By now it was nearly seven. Petunia was sure to come downstairs soon, and Harry couldn't wait to meet her in the kitchen. With a flick of his fingers, the magazines were returned to their places, their magical bookmarks no longer in place. The lights all went out, and much to Harry's surprise and pleasure, he found he was now sitting on a kitchen stool.

He hadn't known he could apparate, but then again he'd never tried, and he'd never thought he'd need or want to before now. After a five second wait, he simply grabbed the fruit bowl and started decimating a tart, crisp green apple that tasted like coolness on his tongue.

Seeing no reason not to eat when he was hungry, he felt no compunction against stuffing his face and eschewing decorum. Food was just so good, and it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

He should start a food club. He'd get a lot of food, put a spell on himself so he could eat whatever he wished, and then he'd eat it all. No other members necessary, he'd call it his Food 4 Life club.

Halfway through a very juicy and delicious asian pear, Harry heard a door upstairs open. A bite later, and light from the upstairs hall was emanating a yellowish glow that reached all the way to Harry's field of sight.

Deciding he didn't care about the woman moving around upstairs as much as he did the pear, he went back to eating, utterly nonplussed.

All signs off her imminent appearance were noted and tracked by him. He was just wiping his mouth with a white linen napkin after his last bite of pear when he heard Petunia's soft gasp.

She was standing in the kitchen entryway, mousy brown hair tightly in curlers, and her skinny frame tucked into an unflattering yellow dressing gown that washed out her waxy complexion.

He grinned a small, innocently happy smile at her before saying in a piping child's voice, "Good morning Auntie! Today we're going to have so much fun!"

Cherubically, he batted his long sooty black lashes and smiled wider.