It started like any normal day. Miss Petal got into the car and drove through the town to work. It was the 1st of September, and she would be teaching a new class for the first time. Year 3, so they'd be seven or eight. She liked teaching the children this age, they were old enough to be imaginative, but still young, sweet and obedient. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she slowed to a standstill at the traffic lights.
She watched the children file into the playground, accompanied by their parents. All of the adults where fussing over scuffs on shiny new school shoes, or else straightening pleats in crisp skirts and tying new ties. She went out to meet the parents. She had done this since the start of her career. She felt if the children saw that their parents where comfortable around her, they would be more confident in the classroom. After greeting Mr and Mrs Parker and their daughter Emily, Ms Taylor and Paul, Mr and Mrs Flinch and Rachel, she went over to a family of four. There was a rather large man with a bristling moustache, a thin, immaculate woman with short, perfectly styled hair, a stocky boy with a staggering resemblance to his father (although without the bristling moustache), and then – Miss Petal stopped dead. The boy was pale, thin, had messy black hair, shocking green eyes and selotaped glasses -and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. She shook herself. She was being silly. They were a comprehensive primary school in Kent. It was just a coincidence. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, I'm Miss Petal," She smiled at them all, avoiding the gaze of the bespectacled boy.
"Petunia Dursley," Said the woman. "This is my husband Vernon, and our son Dudley. Oh, and that's Harry, our nephew," Miss Petals stomach plummeted. Harry. Harry. He was the double of James, eyes of Lilly, had the scar - and was called Harry. 'This has got to be a coincidence!' she persuaded herself, all the while her stomach was buzzing. Could Harry Potter really be at St. Joe's primary?
She called all the children inside. She sat at her desk, staring at Harry. She glanced down the register, and, to her disbelief, found it. Potter, Harry. The hero who defeated the darkest wizard of all time was the same boy as the child who stood in oversized, faded uniform, with broken glasses and a shaky, pale complexion. Whenever people had spoken of Harry Potter, she versioned a strong, tall, powerful boy with overwhelming power and charisma; not a weedy, speckled, trembling child. As he answered to the register (It took a lot of power to say his name smoothly and calmly) she was stunned to hear his voice tremble. She had to stifle a laugh; the boy, who defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, was frightened of her!
As the children sat down to their first activity of the academic year (the usual; write about yourself, your family, and your summer holidays), she could not help but notice how the other children where treating Harry. They all laughed and chatted, joked and giggled amongst themselves, but Harry sat and worked quietly, his head low, without any one so much as approaching him. These children had no idea what sat with them. This boy was amazing, had done what no wizard could ever do! In the wizarding world, the boy would be admired and praised beyond belief. Yet here was a miserable young boy with no one to talk to. She was drawn sharply from her thoughts when a young, trembling voice said;
"Um, miss? I've finished," she looked down. Harry Potter was at her desk, holding up a flimsy exercise book.
"Thank you, Harry," She fingered her wand, concealed in the pocket of her work trousers. She never used it, but always liked to carry it, just in case. Dare she remove it, and reveal to Harry who she really was? No, that would be idiotic. So, she looked down to the work she had just been given.
About me, my family and my summer Holliday, by Harry Potter. She felt sick. She had just asked Harry Potter to write about his family, completely forgetting his tragic circumstance.
I am green eyes, with hair that is black. I have to have glases because everything is fuzzee with out them. I was bawn in the 31st of July in 1980. This makes me seven yers old.
My famile is my uncle and aunt and my cousin Dudley. It is also other pepole like Dudley's grandma and Aunt Marge, but they isn't really my family. I lives with uncle and Aunt Dursley because when I was a baby my parents died in a car crash. A car crash. A car crash. She was now very glad that she had not withdrawn her wand. If Harry Potter knew what had really happened, he would not think it had been a car crash.
I can only just remember the car crash. Miss Petal was not sure she wanted to her about how He Who Must Not Be Named attacks his victims. The boy standing in front of her knew what happened when some one performs the killing curse. She suddenly realised what terror this boy had unknowingly witnessed. There was loads of green lite and sometimes I can remember some one lafing, but I think I must have thought this up in my head because pepole are sad when people die, and people lauf when they are happee. Now she really felt sick. He had been laughing. Her dormant rage for You-Know-Who suddenly awoke, knowing at her insides. This is how I got my scar, but I don't remember getting the scar. I like my scar because it makes me look different. My holiday was good because the Dursley all went to Corfu. I like the park and ice cream now, because it is the first time I have used them. I didn't know how to use the tee vee, so I left it alone and used bikes insted.
She gave it back to Harry, smiling and praising the boy. He looked shocked at the positive feedback, and then his face broke into a smile. She gave the boy a sticker. She peeled of the sticker without looking. Only realising what it was until he had secured it onto his green tie. The words 'great work!' where curved under a wizard with a triangular purple body, and a magicians wand. She grinned, unable to conceal the irony. He turned and hopped back to his desk. If only the boy knew. Just then, Dudley said something. She only heard a snippet of conversation about parents, and family. Harry burst into tears, and, as he did so, the flower pot behind Her smashed.
"Oh, silly me," She said, although she hadn't so much as touched it. She was going to appear very clumsy this year…