am I the new Harry Potter?

I woke up three days ago with a red mark on the inside of my wrist. It looks exactly like the red mark on Harry Potter's forehead. Well, not exactly. It isn't shaped like a Z, it is on my wrist and not my forehead, and it is gradually fading. Still, it is something, and perhaps the sign that I have some special powers other than being able to juggle with one hand and eat a whole packet of Jaffa Cakes in ten minutes. (I don't mean simultaneously, although it would certainly slow down the Jaffa consumption rate if I tried.) I have no idea what has caused this mark. I could have burned myself on the oven rack when I cooked Sunday's roast pork, but I don't remember doing so. In itself, this could be a sign that I have special powers, if I burned myself and didn't know it. Not that having this as a special power is going to be of any use unless I apply it in public, leap into a fire and charge money, because burning yourself on your own oven rack, even if you don't realise it, doesn't strike me as impressive as sweeping through the corridors of an old school building wearing an invisibility cloak or being able to play team games in the air.

I can only assume that the significance of my wrist mark will be revealed at a time to come. Perhaps, in the middle of a lesson on punctuation next term, I will find that a previous lesson on the apostrophe has been remembered by the whole class and no one will put one in possessive pronouns ever again. This would, indeed, be a miracle, and worth having a mark on the inside of your wrist that looks like you just couldn't use oven gloves properly.


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