When Harry was five, he started Primary. The school was filled with noise, lights and kids running everywhere. There was laughter and teasing, jostling as they hurried to their classrooms. Bags spilling their contents as someone was bumped too hard. Muttered apologies that weren't really meant. Harry could tell having said enough of them himself for things he didn't do.

Harry walked behind his aunt and his cousin, watching the excited chaos play out. He was sure there was a method, a meaning to it all. He'd never been around so many kids at once so he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Occasionally, one of the boys from the neighbourhood would come over and play with Dudley while his aunt gossiped with their mothers. Harry did his best to hide during their visits since they tended to chase after him and hit him once they caught up with him. Harry Hunting, Dudley called it. To Harry, it just hurt.

But now, that was all going to change. He had a chance to make a friend of his own. Just one. That would be nice, one boy who'd see 'Harry'. Play with him , who wouldn't laugh, hit, or scream. Secretly, Harry was pleased to just be out of his house, out of his cupboard, and the rest would be, well chocolate.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts as they reached the classroom and Aunt Petunia garnered the attention of the woman laughing at the antics of one of the students.

"Mrs Murphy? I'm Petunia Dursley and this is my son, Dudley." His aunt proudly introduced his cousin, a hand smoothing his blond hair away from his forehead.

Dudley presented himself, as his mother had taught him. "How do you do?"

"Hello." Mrs Murphy bent down and held out her hand to Harry. Shyly inching forward, Harry shook her hand quickly and retreated to his aunt's side.

"And who is this handsome young man?" Harry liked his teacher already. Not only was she pretty with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair, she noticed Harry. Little Harry Potter who'd made a career out of clinging to the shadows doing his best to blend into the background.

Aunt Petunia didn't take well to Harry being singled out. She squeezed his shoulder as she brought him forward. "My nephew, Harry Potter. I assume the Headmistress told you about the boy?" Aunt Petunia sniffed.

Mrs Murphy stiffened and eyed Harry suspiciously. "You realize if he causes trouble in my classroom, he'll have to go to a State school that specializes in anti-social behaviour?"

Aunt Petunia gave a long-suffering sigh. "We're hoping that exposure to children his own age besides my Dudley and the strict discipline of this classroom, we can break the bad habits instilled by his parents. Lay abouts and drunkards, the both of them."

"It must be such a burden on your family to take the boy in."

"It's fortunate that the boy's parents died before they could do any lasting harm. He requires constant attention."

"Don't worry, Mrs Dursley. He'll not speak out of turn." Her once bright eyes had turned to ice.

Harry slid from his aunt's grasp to huddle behind her dubious protection. "Boy, go take your seat and don't make trouble."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry kept a close eye on the adults as he scurried away. He didn't make trouble and this year he'd prove it. He'd be still, quiet as a church mouse, and then they'd all see. Climbing into a chair at the back of the room, Harry placed his book bag on the floor and folded his hands in his lap. He would be good. It wasn't his fault if trouble found him.

Everything seemed to be going well. He'd made a friend with a boy and his teacher stopped calling on him, which made Harry extremely happy since he couldn't show up Dudley. The last time that happened, he ended up on the roof of his school and Uncle Vernon screamed for hours and hours about his 'freakishness'. He also went to bed without dinner four nights in a row because Dudley still hadn't learned his ABC's and it was somehow Harry's fault. On the fifth day, Dudley finally had them all down.

He also had to share his colours with Dudley, since the boy had broken all of his own, which meant that Harry didn't finish his work and had to complete it at home.

But he thought he did okay, his teacher didn't say anything except to say that work was to be completed in class. Harry tried. Really he did. He snuck paper into his cupboard and practiced his letters over and over again until he could no longer see. He practiced the sounds each made and could read small words by the end of term. He expected to do well. Then he got his first set of marks.

'Poor work habits.'

'Inattention.'

'Failure to participate in class.'

'Inability to play with others.'

'Doesn't apply himself.'

He didn't understand what most of that meant. He'd followed the rules. It was all so confusing. Don't touch. Touch. Play, don't play. Stand still, move around.

Harry sighed as his aunt cooed over his cousin. It was like everything else. Harry would never be good enough. So, he stopped trying. He'd learn for himself and never let anyone else know.