Broken Glasses

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; they all belong to the wonderful, all powerful, JK Rowling.

Harry Potter lived at number four Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey. He woke up everyday to shelves above his face. A little cord hung down from his so-called roof that led to a light bulb as his sole source of light. The roof came down in tiers. Yes, Harry Potter lived and slept under a staircase. And what was worse… he inhabited a cupboard. He lived with his Aunt, Uncle and their son, Dudley - his one and only cousin. Harry didn't have a big family. His closest family, his mother and father, had died in a car crash when he was very young. He had been the only survivor of the crash.

Today was a new school day. It was Monday and Harry's Aunt Petunia rapped on the door.

'Up!' she screeched as always. It took Harry a while to remember what date it was, but as he got ready for the day, he groaned at the thought of a fresh week. A fresh new week of torture and humiliation was what it would be. He heard his cousin stumble down the stairs as he pulled on his socks. He picked up his glasses off a shelf. They were round with metal fully encompassing the lenses. His clothes were four times too big for him as they were hand-me-downs from his four-times-too-big cousin. He opened the door to his cupboard as his cousin entered the kitchen. Harry looked longingly back at the cupboard wishing he could climb back into it and avoid the day that was waiting for him.

He often asked himself why he had to live in a cupboard and not a room like Dudley. When he was old enough to realize this, he didn't mind too much because he was a tiny boy and he had slept in there as far as he could remember. But little tiny boys grow, and so did Harry. He was getting slightly too big for his age-old cupboard now. He had tried mentioning this to Aunt Petunia, but that was a big mistake. She had started lecturing him about looking a gift horse in the mouth… whatever that was, because frankly he didn't consider that cupboard a gift and neither would any other normal person once he thought about it.

He slowly headed towards the kitchen to have his small breakfast and watch Dudley eat eggs, kippers and bacon while Harry would only have the cheapest breakfast cereal on the market his Aunt could find.

'What took you so long?' his Aunt snapped at him while cleaning the dishes.

'It's Monday,' Harry said for what he thought was an excuse.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Aunt Petunia hissed at him. 'Monday is no different from any other day.'

Dudley sneered wickedly at Harry as Uncle Vernon came in through the door with flurries from outside. Uncle Vernon must have finished his meal and read his paper so he had been warming up the car. Dudley had hurriedly finished his breakfast already.

'Are you two set? It's time to go to school,' Uncle Vernon said gruffly.

Harry realized he had been in his cupboard too long this morning gazing at it, because he didn't even have a chance to eat his breakfast and it was time to go to school.

Harry grabbed his coat in the hallway and headed out the door behind the two whales. It was winter and snow lay on the ground as Uncle Vernon pulled out of the driveway. Dudley sat in the front seat, which Harry was grateful for. They drove down Privet Drive where the organization and cleanliness of the street and its houses was sickening to Harry's stomach.

Once they were dropped off, Harry hastily headed to the classroom so Dudley and his friends couldn't harm him. He'd have to come up with some way to hide from them during recess today. Maybe he'd try the boys' bathroom and lock himself in a cubicle, but he'd have to run pretty fast. When he opened the door, his teacher looked up to see whom it was.

'Close the door, Harry. You're letting cold air get in,' she said unemotionally. Miss Ammons was a middle-aged woman of fifty-five, had been teaching for thirty years and she was quickly getting bored with it. She wasn't very kind but she didn't think Harry was bad, which was unlike his previous teachers. However, that was because nothing strange or unusual had happened so far. She was also a bit forgetful. Harry was very thankful for this. He sat down in his assigned seat, which was the second desk in the middle row. When the bell rang all the other nine and ten year olds came clambering through the doorway. Dudley gave Harry a glare and Harry was yet again thankful that he didn't have to face his gang this snowy morning.

Harry was thankful for mostly small things. For one, he was thankful for his name Harry, but he was even more thankful that his last name was Potter because it meant that when in assigned seating, he was far away from Dudley Dursley, who sat in the 'D' section.

Though today, none of that would matter because they were to be put into groups. The teacher, thinking she was being kind, thought it best that they choose their own groups. Harry groaned inwardly at the thought as everybody quickly got into groups of four so that every group was full except for Dudley's. Harry headed to the teacher to say that he didn't have a group yet.

'Miss Ammons, I don't have a group yet,' Harry said quietly to his teacher.

Miss Ammons smiled and looked around the class.

'Oh, there's one more opening in Dudley's group. Won't that be nice? You'll be with your cousin,' she said pleased with herself.

Once all the groups were chosen the children arranged their desks into little 'quad pods' as the teacher called them. Harry was forced to sit next to Dudley. The other sad members of the group were Gordon and Piers. Piers always resembled a rat in Harry's opinion and Gordon looked like Dudley's look-a-like. The groups were to take out their books and notes and do class work together as to have a better learning environment for their growing little minds.

Harry worked silently as Dudley, Gordon and Piers fooled around with some elastic bands and erasers.

'Hey Harry, let's see your answers,' Dudley demanded after a while.

'You can't just copy off me,' Harry said irritated.

'But we're supposed to work together,' Dudley insisted and then said loudly for the teacher to hear, 'Miss Ammons! Harry won't let us see his answers!'

Miss Ammons came to the scene as Gordon and Piers snickered behind their hands.

'Now Harry, in order for your cousin to learn you must help him with his work,' Miss Ammons reprimanded calmly.

'But he hasn't even done anything. He wanted to copy off of me,' Harry tried to explain but Dudley cut him through.

'That's because we don't know the answers and Harry didn't want to help us,' Dudley lied.

'Liar!' Harry said to Dudley.

'Harry! This is no way for you to behave in my class. Say you're sorry to Dudley and then help him with his work or I'll send you to sit in the corner until you've thought about what you've done,' Miss Ammons replied sternly.

'But – '

'Not another word from you Harry,' Miss Ammons said as she turned to another desk where Resa Brazen had her hand up and totally forgetting that Harry was supposed to apologize to Dudley.

Harry glared at Dudley as he gave him his answers for the math he had done so far. Dudley, Gordon and Piers all gleefully copied down the answers onto their paper to hand in at the end of the day.

Harry continued to work later on his literary skills. At the time the class was learning capital letter acrylic writing. As this was a practice sheet, Dudley, Gordon and Piers didn't have anything to copy off of. So they went back to playing with erasers and their elastic bands when Dudley's eraser hit Miss Ammons on an unflattering body part. Harry looked up from his practice sheet when he heard the gales of laughter from the student body. Miss Ammons walked over to their group. He figured Dudley had done something stupid and she was going to punish him, which lightened Harry's mood. He was waiting for Dudley to get a letter home saying that he had misbehaved in class. Miss Ammons opened her mouth, she was about to say Dudley's full name to indicate he was in trouble, but instead she yelled Harry's name.

'Harry James Potter!'

Harry looked around. Why was she angry with him? He didn't even do anything. She had reached his desk and took away the elastic bands and erasers that had somehow found their place on his desk. Obviously, Dudley, Gordon and Piers had stuck them there to get rid of the evidence. He looked up to glare at his fellow group members, but they had their heads bent low working on the practice sheet.

'Harry, you shall stay in class during recess today and write the tables of one to ten, ten times as punishment for your misbehavior,' she said very austerely.

'But I didn't do it! It was Dudley!' Harry said to his defense.

'Don't lie to me young man, when I can see Dudley is working very hard on his writing and you have clearly been fooling around,' Miss Ammons replied indicating the elastic bands and erasers in her hand.

'But Dudley was the one who brought the things to class,' Harry tried to reason. This was so unfair. Dudley had gotten him into trouble twice today and he had taken the blame both times against his will.

'Not another word Harry or I'll make you write the tables twenty times,' Miss Ammons threatened. 'And I'll be sending a letter home for your mentors.'

'No please! I'll do anything, just don't send home the letter,' Harry begged.

'No Harry. You're mentors need to be informed so this won't happen again,' she said.

'But I never did it in the first place!'

Harry found himself sitting in his desk all alone writing down tables.

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Every now and then he would steal glances at the children outside. It was raining and the snow was turning to slush. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He was inside in the warmth and Dudley couldn't beat him up. Harry was desperate to look for something that could cheer up his day. That's all Harry ever did. The only reason that kept him going on from day to day was all the small things that came in his life.

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While he had been writing down tables, the teacher had been writing down a note to Harry's aunt and uncle. He pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose as he paused to look out side again. He glared at Dudley through the window.

'Keep writing Harry or you'll never get done,' came Miss Ammons' now stiff voice.

'But I didn't do it!' Harry said again.

'Stop lying Harry,' Miss Ammons replied.

'I'm not lying.'

'Harry I'm tired of this. When the class returns you shall sit in the corner until you apologize for lying to me. Now finish your tables.'

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His hand was getting a bit sore and his middle finger where his pen always lay while writing, was throbbing.

When the bell rang, Harry took his seat in the corner on the stool that was reserved for the delinquents of the class. As the children sat down, he could hear soft laughter. He knew they were laughing at him. He was glad that his back was turned to them so he wouldn't have to face them and that they couldn't see his face turning red with humiliation. He stared at the crack in the wall and the dried paintbrush strokes when the classroom had first been painted. He choked back tears, determined not to cry over something so small. It was amazing how something so little could hurt so much.

'Quiet down class and continue with your work,' he could hear Miss Ammons say to the class.

It got real quiet, but Harry could feel eyes looking at his corner, boring into his back.

Harry didn't hand his aunt and uncle the note until later that evening before dinner when he couldn't stand the torment anymore. There had been a big argument and Dudley had been called to 'verify the truth' of what 'really' happened. Harry tried to say that it was Dudley's fault, but because whatever precious little Diddikins said was automatically the truth in his parents' opinions, Harry was sent to his cupboard without dinner. He fleetingly made a mental note that next time if something like this were to happen, he'd mention it after dinner.

After the Dursley's had eaten their dinner, which Harry could smell through his locked cupboard, they had sent Dudley to bed while his Aunt and Uncle would have their tea and watch the evening news. Harry could hear the heavy footsteps of his cousin come through the living room. He could hear them coming down the hallway… and pause in front of Harry's door. Harry gulped slightly as he heard the lock slide. He stood up to meet the owner of the footsteps. The light from the door crack grew to reveal Shamoo junior. Before Harry could say anything, Dudley had quickly drawn back his fist and punched Harry squarely on the nose. Harry gave out a yell of pain as he clamped his hands over his nose. He felt his glasses loosen around his eyes, and his vision blurred. His Aunt and Uncle did not hear Harry's yell because of the television.

'That was for trying to get me in trouble today,' Dudley said foully. He pushed Harry back into his cupboard and locked the door. Harry fell down onto his 'bed' and didn't bother to turn on his light. He took off his glasses and looked at them. For all he could see, Dudley had only broken the rim. Thankfully he hadn't broken the lenses, he thought to himself and realized how dismal he really was. Then he tried to remember his parents. He always did this when times were bad, when he wished he could be anywhere but there in his cupboard.

He wished he could have had one memory of his parents to comfort him, to feel as if he had ever been loved. He strained his memory for any of them that he could find, going from birth (which was highly unlikely, he knew) to the date of the crash. And all he could remember was that blinding flash of green light. His forehead always seemed to get a headache when he thought of it. He put his head in his hands and let the tears stream fully down his face. It hurt to know that nobody was there for him. It hurt that he couldn't be like a normal kid. Would his life ever get better? Would he ever be happy? All these unexplained things were always blamed on him. It was a constant heartache to know that Dudley was always after him to inflict physical pain. He couldn't think far into the future, because the present was always a much more pressing matter.

He wished that someone could take him away. Some unknown relationship to save his day… but it had never come and when Harry comprehended this, he felt as if all hope was gone. He had lost his only light at the end of the tunnel and his spirit was broken, just like his glasses.