"Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget who I am. Very thoughtful as that does happen."

– Doctor Who

"Up!"

Harry groaned and turned to his side. It couldn't have been any later than six–what was the special occasion?

"Up! Up!" Petunia shrieked. "The park opens at 9, and Dudley wants to be the first one in line."

Dudley's birthday, Harry remembered. He groggily rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up as he put on his glasses. He moaned at the thought of being at Mrs. Figg's house yet again–until he realized that he wasn't going there. Suddenly awake, he stood up, only to hit his head on the roof of the cupboard.

He walked out, his back hunched, as he hurried to his kitchen and began to make breakfast. Vernon looked at him funny several times as he cooked–Harry assumed that his uncle was surprised to see him smiling, which was a rare thing for Harry.

"What's so funny, boy?" Vernon asked at long last. Harry replied that he finished his homework the night before, and he was happy that he was done–though it was true, it was not the reason he was so happy. Vernon shook his head and turned back to his newspaper–Harry saw that he was muttering something, and he was rather positive that Vernon was thanking God for giving him an athletic, popular son rather than a skinny, dorky one like Harry.

Petunia walked in with Dudley, who immediately began to count his ridiculous amount of presents. Harry hoped that his aunt and uncle didn't notice that he had taken one of Dudley's presents, though he didn't think they'd notice. He was certain Dudley would throw it out the window, anyway–why would Dudley want a book, when he had televisions and computers to entertain himself?

"37…" Dudley pondered. "That's…three more than last year."

"Two more, Diddledums," Petunia corrected gently. "Last year, we gave you 35."

"Well, I guess it's alrigh' then," Dudley shrugged as he started shoving bacon in his mouth. Harry snorted when Dudley made a mistake–Maths was easy for Harry.

"I think we should go now," Dudley announced when he finished his plate. Harry picked it up and started washing it along with his own.

"But it's only Seven, Sweetums," Petunia said as she drank her tea. "We'll go at Eight."

"But then they'll be people there already!" Dudley protested.

"Little tyke, wanting to be punctual, just like his father," Vernon chuckled. "Don't worry, Dudders, we'll be first, I promise."

"But I want to go now," Dudley whined. When he saw that neither of his parents were looking his way, he screwed up his face and began to fake-cry. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he walked out of the room, getting prepared to go.

Dudley always got what he wanted. Always.

:-:

"We'll pick you up at Four," Vernon shouted from the car. He rolled up his window and took off, just like that, leaving Harry behind with nothing other than a five-pence to give to Mrs. Figg for taking care of him.

Harry waited until they were gone until he began to walk back towards Number Four Privet Drive.

:-:

"Oh, sorry!"

Harry winced as he slowly stood back up. "It's okay," he said as he examined his scratched elbow. "I was daydreaming."

"You daydream?" the girl asked. Her eyes lit up and she smiled. "I do, too!"

"I'm Harry," Harry said. He put out his hand and instantly regretted it, thinking that it was too formal.

"Katherine," the girl replied, and shook his hand. Harry was surprised that she did not find it weird, and he was also slightly pleased. "Sorry for knocking you over before."

"S'okay, it was my fault, anyway."

"Gum?"

"I'm not allowed."

"Oh, okay."

"I'll take one, though."

Katherine smiled mischievously. "I like you," she said casually. She handed him a stick of gum, and he took it, stuffing the wrapper into his back pocket as he re-adjusted his backpack strap.

"I haven't seen you at school before," Harry said. He changed the topic–he was quite embarrassed by what the girl had just said. Nobody had ever said that they liked him before.

"That's because I don't go to school," Katherine replied. She started walking with Harry, despite having earlier went the opposite way. Harry noticed this and pointed it out.

"It's okay, the orphanage doesn't count the kids until 6. I have an hour to spare."

"You're an orphan?" Harry wished he could take it back when the words came tumbling out of his mouth. It was quite rude of him to ask, though Katherine didn't seem to care. Harry sighed in relief.

"Kinda. My mum died of cancer and my dad has a drinks a lot, so the police took me away from him and put me in the Orphanage. He comes to visit me sometimes, though."

"Oh! I'm an orphan, too," Harry felt very happy all of a sudden. He was glad to find somebody who was like him, and, (he blushed as he thought this) a pretty girl at that. "But both my parents are dead. They died in a car accident," he added.

"Oh! Well, that's cool. We both daydream, and we're both orphans! I wonder what else we have in common."

"I like books," Harry piped.

Katherine clapped her hands excitedly. "Me too!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so happy I met you! I haven't had a friend for ages!"

:-:

After half an hour of walking and thinking about his new friend, he arrived at home. He walked around to the back and pulled a chair to a spot underneath the window that Harry had left open the night before. He climbed onto the chair and pushed the window open, scrambling in headfirst.

"Ow," Harry grimaced. He got up and closed the window before he exited the office and made his way to the kitchen.

Harry was surprised how silent the house was without the Dursleys. It was odd, and Harry wasn't exactly sure whether it was a bad or good thing. He decided that it was good and sat on the front porch, grabbing his book from his cupboard before opening the front door.

He had finished reading half the book before she came. "Hi Katherine," he said as she climbed up the steps.

"Hey Harry!" Katherine waved. She joined him and sat on the chair beside his. "Whatcha reading?"

"The Lord of the Rings," Harry responded, showing her the book.

"Oh! I love that book! The Hobbit comes first, though. Did you read it?"

"No. I didn't know there was a book before this one. I stole it from my cousin." Harry and Katherine shared mysterious smiles.

"I stole that bike from one of the older kids at the Orphanage," Katherine said, pointing at the blue bike she had arrived with. Harry's eyes widened.

"It fits?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm pretty tall." Harry nodded in agreement. Katherine towered over Harry.

"How's your family?" Katherine asked.

"Horrible. My uncle has a very ugly moustache, my aunt has a very long neck, and my cousin looks like a pig in a wig, no joke."

Katherine giggled.

"I'm not joking! I think they're related, him and the pigs. Except he doesn't have a tail, but that can be arranged."

Katherine's giggles turned into guffaws, and Harry joined her in her laughter.

"Can you show me your house?" Katherine asked when she finally finished laughing. Harry nodded excitedly and opened the door.

"That's the kitchen," he said, pointing to the kitchen. "That's the dining room, that's the living room–"

"Where's your bedroom?" Katherine interrupted. Harry showed her to his cupboard.

Katherine looked aghast. "This is where you sleep?"

Harry nodded. "The Dursleys don't exactly like me." He cracked a small smile, but this time, Katherine didn't join in.

"That's horrid," she whispered. All of a sudden she hugged Harry tightly. "Sorry."

"S-S'okay," Harry stammered.

"You should come to the orphanage with me," Katherine said when she finally let go.

Not that Harry minded–he didn't mind at all–but he was glad that she stopped hugging because she was hugging quite tightly. Plus, she made his heart beat really, really fast.

"I-I don't know…"

"Oh come on! Your family doesn't even like you! You said it yourself!" Katherine exclaimed. "We can hang out more often! And we can exchange books! I'll let you borrow The Hobbit."

Harry stayed silent and stared at the ground. It did sound rather appealing, but he knew he couldn't. He wasn't brave enough to run away.

"Please? For me?"

Harry looked up into Katherine's bright blue eyes. She was his first friend; his only friend. Of course he would, for her.

"Okay," Harry said, confidence in his voice. "Okay, I will. For you."

Katherine beamed and hugged Harry yet again. "That's great! Pack up, and I'll come and get you in front of your house at midnight tomorrow night. Oh, I can't wait! We can make forts, we can share food–oh! You'll love the steak, it's really good. And I'll show you to my hiding place! It's kinda dark, but I think it's the best place for us to hang out. We could also sleep there, too, it's wide enough. The other kids at the orphanage are quite cruel and sometimes draw on your face as you sleep…"

Harry listened to Katherine talk and the more she spoke, the happier he got. The Orphanage would be amazing. He couldn't wait until tomorrow night.

:-:

"Up! Up!"

Harry turned to his side.

"Up! Up!" Petunia shrieked. "The park opens at 9, and Dudley wants to be the first one in line."

Harry jumped as he remembered that in about 18 hours he would be running away with Katherine to the orphanage. He hit his head, like usual, but he ignored the pain, instead thinking about all the fun things he and Katherine would do when he got there. Perhaps they would stay up until two in the morning telling each other scary ghost stories. He reminded himself to ask Dudley to tell him some so he could repeat them back to her.

He reached underneath his pillow for his glasses–but stopped when he thought about what Petunia had said. He felt a sense of déjà vu. Dudley's birthday was yesterday, wasn't it?

"Up!" Petunia repeated.

"Coming, coming…" Harry said impatiently. He heard her walk away.

So it was just a dream, Harry thought sadly, his heart no longer soaring and his lips no longer smiling. He looked under his pillow and saw only a pair of glasses, The Lord of the Rings not in sight. He sighed. Of course it didn't really happen–Harry had always been unlucky.

He stumbled out of his cupboard and walked towards the kitchen, pulling a pan out from the drawer and heating up the stove like he had in his dream. Except this time, he wasn't cheerful.

It's too bad, though, he thought. His dream was good. Great, actually. He wished it had been real. He liked Katherine very much.

But it was unrealistic, Harry realized, as he thought more and more about it. Dream Harry was very different from Real Harry. Real Harry was not one to make friends. He never had a friend, not a single one, in his ten years of life.

He was Harry.

Just Harry.