The primary school in Little Whinging, Surrey, was a completely nondescript building. It was a perfectly ordinary school in every way, complete with twenty equally sized classrooms, a multi-purpose room, and a sensible playground. It was currently a recess period, and the young students ran about happily, having just eaten their fill of cafeteria food. All of the students, that is, except for one.
Eight-year-old Harry Potter sat in the far corner of the playground, mostly hidden by a large rock the children sometimes used to play King of the Mountain. His messy black hair was windblown from the crisp autumn air, and he was content to hide from the other students. He was picked on constantly for his baggy clothes and taped glasses and weird scar, but today Harry had managed to escape from his would-be tormentors. He was picking dandelions to give to Annie Kirkpatrick, who sat in front of him and always smiled. Nobody ever smiled at Harry, because nobody liked to cross Dudley and his gang. Annie, however, was different.
Harry knew the end of recess was near, so he gathered the dandelions and arranged them in a small little bouquet. He scanned the playground for Annie, and he finally spotted her brown pigtails by the door leading back inside. One of the teachers blew a whistle, which was the signal to form lines according to class. Harry sped up a bit and found a spot in line behind Annie.
"Hi," he said shyly. Annie turned to look at him, smiling as usual.
"Hi," she replied with a giggle.
Harry nervously held out the dandelions and turned his face. "I-I picked these for you."
Annie looked at the flowers and then at Harry, never losing her smile. Unfortunately, Dudley had picked that time to appear with his friends Piers, Malcolm, and Dennis. The bigger boys were laughing and pointing at Harry, who quickly turned away.
"What's this, Potter? Picking weeds?" Dudley taunted. Before Harry had a chance to respond, Dudley had turned to Annie. "Are you his friend now? Nobody should be friends with a freak."
Annie looked suitably frightened of Dudley, who managed to appear quite intimidating most of the time. She turned to one of her girl friends and they began talking quietly.
Dudley raised his fist in warning to Harry as he and his friends fell into line. The students dutifully followed their teacher inside and found their places at their desks. Harry sat towards the back of the class, as the students were seated alphabetically. Piers sat next to him, but Dudley was fortunately in the first row.
"That Annie girl would never be your friend, Potter," Piers whispered as Harry took out his pencil. He looked at it critically and picked at the lead, trying to make it less blunt. The pencil was too short to sharpen properly.
Dudley always had nice new school supplies, and this year had even gotten a box of crayons with a sharpener, but Harry used school-issued paper and pencils. He had finally gotten a backpack this year when Dudley screamed for a new one. Dudley's old backpack, which Harry now possessed, was in decent condition, as Dudley was a terrible student and rarely brought home his books. His continually poor marks were blamed on Harry, of course. Harry knew it infuriated Uncle Vernon whenever he did better than Dudley in school.
The teacher, Miss Linden, rapped her ruler on the desk to call the attention of the class. She was a younger woman with light brown hair and a warm smile, and Harry liked her very much.
"Class, as you know, today is Parents Night. I want you all to draw a picture of your family and write five complete sentences about them. We will then put them on display for all the parents to see tonight, okay? I have paper and crayons up at my desk for those who need them."
Harry's face fell. He had completely forgotten about Parents Night – that hated day every autumn when the parents would come meet their children's teachers. Last year Harry's class had sung a song for all the parents, but this year he was expected to do something on his own. With a sigh, Harry took out a blank sheet of paper and stared at it.
"Harry? Aren't you going to get started?" Lost in his thoughts, Harry had not even seen Miss Linden approach. He nodded and drew a small stick figure of himself. It was not a very good picture, but he made sure to draw his glasses and his scar. He paused, then leaned forward to ask Annie for a green crayon. She ignored him.
After fetching some broken crayons from Miss Linden's desk, he gave himself green eyes and scribbled some black hair. He then drew some lopsided clothes on his stick self, making sure they looked baggy. Satisfied, he picked up his pencil and began to write his sentences.
Twenty minutes later, Miss Linden clapped her hands twice and the class looked up. "Now, if you will bring your drawings and sentences forward I will put them on the bulletin board." The students scrambled out of their seats, eager to be the first to present their masterpiece to Miss Linden.
Harry hung towards the back, holding the paper tightly in his hands. He saw Miss Linden hang up Dudley's picture, which showed a smiling Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia standing on either side of a stick figure which sort of resembled Dudley. Harry was not surprised to see that Dudley had excluded him from the drawing. When it was his turn, he handed his picture to Miss Linden quickly and turned back towards his seat.
"Harry, you did not complete the assignment," she called after him.
"Yes I did," he said softly.
Miss Linden sighed and looked at him somewhat sympathetically. "You will stay inside for afternoon recess," she instructed.
"Yes, ma'm," Harry mumbled, shuffling back to his seat. Piers shoved him into his desk and snickered. Head down, Harry slouched in his seat and waited for the recess bell.
It came a few minutes later and the class rushed out of the room excitedly. Harry remained in his chair, head resting on his arms. He heard Miss Linden approach his desk, and she placed his paper in front of him.
"'My name is Harry Potter. I live at Number Four, Privet Drive. My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle took me in but they don't like me very much. No one ever pays attention to me,'" Miss Linden quoted from Harry's paper. "What is this? Why did you not write about your family and draw a nice picture like I told you to?"
"That's the truth, Miss Linden," Harry whispered, not daring to look his teacher in the eyes.
"Harry, I cannot put this up on the bulletin board. Why didn't you draw a picture of your aunt and uncle?"
"Dudley didn't include me in his picture," Harry said, feeling oddly brave. Normally he was very quiet and never spoke up in class, let alone say anything against a teacher.
Miss Linden sighed. "Harry, I will speak with the Headmistress about this. I expect to see you here tonight. You can go out for the rest of recess if you wish." Harry nodded and, pushing his glasses back into place, he headed for the playground.
Harry was only knocked over by Dudley and his gang three times on the way home from school, which he counted as a marked improvement. He managed an extra biscuit when no one was looking, and Aunt Petunia only yelled at him once to comb his hair. At half past six, Uncle Vernon hurried the family into the new company car. After a short drive, they arrived at the primary school. Aunt Petunia squealed with delight as Dudley led the way to Miss Linden's classroom. Uncle Vernon hung back, ostensibly to make sure Harry didn't cause any trouble.
"Hurry up, boy," he barked.
"Welcome, everyone, to Parents Night. I am so glad to see all the mummies and daddies here to see our classroom. Each of the children have drawn a picture of their families, so please feel free to look around and meet some of your child's classmates. I will be available if you have any questions," Miss Linden announced.
The students in Harry's class had assembled in front of their pictures, each of them surrounded by smiling parents. Harry found his desk and slouched down, trying to avoid notice. Luckily, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had spotted Dudley's masterpiece and were gushing over the wonderful sentences he had written depicting their perfect life.
Harry thought he had completely escaped their notice, and he might have made it through the evening without incident if it weren't for Piers. Piers caught Dudley's attention and pointed at Harry. Grinning, Dudley pulled his parents over towards Harry's desk.
"Where's your picture, Harry?" Dudley demanded.
Harry was silent.
"Boy, answer the question," Uncle Vernon declared loudly.
"Miss Linden said she couldn't put mine up," Harry whispered. He knew instantly it had been the wrong thing to say.
"And why is that?" Aunt Petunia asked with a frown, seeking out Miss Linden with her expert spying eyes. Miss Linden seemed to have spotted the trouble and was approaching Harry's desk.
"Harry drew a very fine picture, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, but I am afraid I've misplaced it. Dudley, why don't you show your parents some of your friends' pictures?" Miss Linden said sweetly. As soon as Dudley had dragged Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to gush over Malcom's drawing, Miss Linden bent down to Harry's level.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't understand before, but…" Miss Linden paused and reached into her pocket. "Would you like a sweet?" she asked quietly, holding out a small lemon drop wrapped with brightly colored foil.
Harry nodded and hid the sweet in his pocket so Dudley couldn't stea it. He shared a small smile with Miss Linden, deciding he liked her even more. Last year, when he had gotten in trouble with the headmistress for climbing the roof of the school, the formidable woman had admonished him for speaking ill of his family. "The Dursleys are an upstanding family," she had told him, before writing the letter that would earn him one of his longest punishments. Harry was glad that, for once, someone had seen things from his perspective.
"You're a smart boy, Harry. You'll find your place someday," Miss Linden said softly, patting his shoulder.
Harry sat back down in his chair and looked around the room. Annie Kirkpatrick was smiling happily with her mum and dad, her brown pigtails bouncing. Dudley and his friends were laughing at someone's poorly drawn figures while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia made small talk with the other adults. Everywhere Harry looked there were smiling families, laughing and enjoying Parents Night.
Harry thought of his parents, whom he had never known. He didn't even know what they looked like. He wondered if they would have come to things like Parents Night. Would they be smiling and laughing over his stick figures and simple sentences? Would they be proud of him? Harry wasn't sure.
Later that night, Harry sat in his cupboard and slowly unwrapped his lemon drop. As he sucked on the tangy sweet, he sniffled softly and wished, not for the first time, that he could be just like everyone else.