A small boy stood in the midst of a lawn of grass, a low humid breeze ruffling the stems of grass, the trees, and the boy’s clothes and hair. There was a smell of wetness in the air. The sky was overcast, the storm from the night before had ended but it seemed that the weather had not.

The boy was of the sort that one would fancy picking up and running away with, if one could. A small, little person, he had a solemn, yet childish look about his face. He had a nose that could easily go from scrunched up to runny in just mere seconds, bright green eyes highlighted by his dark brows and messy raven hair that made him characteristically annoying and adorable at the same time. He had little marking him physically, save for a jagged scar on his forehead.

It was this evening that the boy could be found standing among the backdrop of grey sky and green grass, an intense look of concentration on his face.

Little Harry Potter was hunting for snakes.

“Come out,” hissed pleadingly from the little boy’s lips. He waited a little before looking around for any slithering motions among the grass, or perhaps against the fence. Nothing came.

“Come out and say hello,” he tried again, calling for any snake to hear. “Come and play with me.”

The boy basked in the feel of the weather, it felt… right. It was his birthday, forgotten and unremarkable as it had always been in his childhood. He’d only remembered that morning, there had been a weather station on the telly that said the date and Harry had seen it; the fact that it was his birthday had caught him completely by surprise. There would be no session of owls carrying gifts this year, no birthday wishes from his friends far away.

He felt so… alone, miskept, ignored, perhaps.

He could go inside, inform his guardians that today was his birthday, but that would be so selfish of him. He had been given so much, just yesterday Hoppity had taken him shopping and he got some new toys and clothes. He would a deeply horrible little boy to even suggest that today might be his special day. And undoubtedly, Hoppity would think that such a day would mean presents and cake, how could he tell her that, knowing how guilty she would feel, how much stress and strain it would put on her to try and give him a Birthday, or Merlin forbid, a last minute Birthday party. No, he couldn’t do that to her. How could he ask for more? He didn’t even want anything more… but a cake and maybe a “Happy Birthday, Harry” would have been nice.

And what of Snape’s reaction? He couldn’t stand having to sit through any sort of evening celebrating himself with his sneering, detrimental guardian, knowing that anything he said would be true. It would cut, deeply.

He wasn’t that selfish of a person, he didn’t want to be.

So he spent the day mostly alone, telling himself firmly not to mention anything. And really, was it really his birthday? He would have been 16 today, but he had been deaged to be a 6 year old, at least physically. So it wasn’t his birthday. Or was it? It could be, but probably not. This line of thinking was just confusing him so he went back to searching in their back garden for a snake to bring in for show and tell.

He hissed a little, feeling the air flow over his tongue like steam from a tea kettle, hoping that the sounds would call a snake when the words would not.

“Hissss, hissss…” He oddly imagined himself a tea pot, patting his tummy and holding out one arm like a spout. I’m a little tea pot, he smiled, suddenly feeling ridiculous out there by himself pretending. He didn’t suppose that that would be a good substitute for a snake for show and tell.

Harry walked over to the other side, thinking that maybe the snakes were over there and just couldn’t hear him properly. He tried louder this time, “Hello, are you there? Come and visit me.”

But the attempt wasn’t any more successful than before. Harry waited just a bit just to make sure. The air was heavy, as if teetering on the edge of a storm that would never come, or might come at any instant. The wind blew his hair around. Maybe the snakes were just hiding because of the weather, but Harry really didn’t think so. There didn’t seen to be any snakes in this part of America.

A flash of lightening lit up the sky above the houses silently, giving the evening an eerie cast. Seconds later there was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Potter, come inside,” called a man from the doorway.

Harry looked up but came in obediently, under the watchful eyes of his guardian.

“Sit down,” Snape said silkily as he closed the door and the atmosphere out. Harry clambered up into a seat at the kitchen table. Inside this brightly lit room it felt like he had just gone worlds away. He turned around to peer outside the window, noticing that heavy raindrops had begun to fall outside. “You remember this?” Snape asked, regaining Harry’s attention as he pulled out the small red bottle and set it on the kitchen table.

Harry nodded, he did remember it. Snape had told him last time that it would help make the scar on his arm go away, but every time Snape put it on him, Harry would have to answer one question or forfeit it that time.

Snape pulled out a cloth and then sat down next to Harry nonchalantly, pulling Harry’s arm out and pushing up the sleeve. “Tell me about how you got the bruise you claim was caused by being pulled up the stairs,” he said, lowering his own hands and looking into Harry’s face.

Harry swallowed. “That’s not a question,” he said bravely, fearing that Snape would see that as a refusal to answer. He did want his scar to be healed. And besides, didn’t they already cover this matter? Harry told him that his uncle pulled him up the stairs, that’s how it happened.

“Alright, why did you get those bruises?” Snape asked, showing more patience than Harry had expected.

“It-” He sighed. “It was at the beginning of Holidays when we got back from Kings Cross, and- my uncle thought I wasn’t moving fast enough so he pulled me up the stairs to my room.”

“And this happened often?” Snape asked levelly as he opened the red bottle and dabbed some onto a handkerchief.

“No,” Harry said thickly. Not up the stairs.

“How were you usually disciplined?” Snape asked lowly, gently.

Harry gave a surprised expression. He wasn’t expecting that question, in fact, he wasn’t expecting another question at all! He furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you’re only allowed one question!”

“I was wondering if you would notice,” Snape said smarmily as he wiped the liquid into Harry’s scar.

“You tricked me!” He was just ignored. “I shouldn’t have to answer a question next time,” Harry declared.

“Yes, you do, and will.”

“But I answered two questions, so one of them should count for next time.”

“I don’t think so, Potter. You were the one who decided to answer the second, completely of your own choice. It has no bearing on our little agreement.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” Snape raised his brows, looking down at the little boy. He recapped the bottle and took it into his hand, daring the small boy to contradict him.

Knowing that he had lost this time, Harry just got up and sulked out of the room. He wouldn’t fall for that trick next time.

---

Early the next morning...

A lone delivery truck pulled up the road and stopped in front of a square brick house, number 402. A man in a uniform got out and looked through the packages in the back. He spotted the correct one and pulled it out. He walked up to the front door and dropped it on the front step, there was a clank of glass and he winced sympathetically, but left it alone and checked the delivery off of his list.

When Hoppity got up that morning, she heard the sound of a truck driving away. Hmm... She decided to investigate and walked downstairs to look out the front door. What she saw on the door step made her catch her breath... a medium-largish square box, brown and covered with airport stickers. Could it be? Hoppity felt a wave of joy as she pulled it in the house. She managed to get it to the kitchen table with little difficulty. Searching around for a sharp knife to open the box with, she imagined the real English hot tea she would soon be able to have. She could smell it already from here!

She quickly stuck the knife through all the tape and once the box was cut open she set it down on the table. Opening the box flaps, she nearly cried in relief as she spotted a tea kettle top. She then did cry once she realized that everything was in pieces. It was broken! Noooo! She fell into a chair, limp. The beautiful tea set was broken... broken... and there was nothing she could do about it. How did a Muggle deal with broken Tea sets anyway?

Wait! She was a witch! She could do magic! Great Uncle Albus had told her to only do magic in the gravest of circumstances, but didn't this count? Hoppity snuck out her wand and glanced around the kitchen, making sure that no grumpy Potions master would swoop down and catch her in an act of magic after she had berated him over and over again for doing the same. Once positive that she wouldn't get caught in this devious, but necessary, act she cast several repario spells in quick succession at the contents in the box.

Minutes later, Snape walked in to find Hoppity unpacking an unblemished tea set, and several boxes of tea.

He stopped, then blinked at the sight of the long mourned box Albus had given them. The old man had been right to give them such a gift, for the tea here was horrible and came in tea bags.

He quickly joined Smirkett at sorting through the packets of tea, the wonderful real tea leaves smell was wafting through the air… the pot was already set to have boiling water, the cups were out…

Heaven.

“Hoppity?” came a small, childish voice. Not even the brat could ruin this moment of tea, real tea…

“Hmmm?”

“Isn’t it time to go for school now?”

“In a minute sweetie… let me have just a few more cups of tea…”

Amazing, it seemed that he actually shared a common interest with the twit. Well wasn’t that a prerequisite from where they came from? Didn’t count then, Snape thought smugly and he took another swallow of that wonderful tea.

The boy was still standing there though, seeming as if he wanted something. Go away, brat, Snape thought at Potter. He was gratified when the boy pursed his lips and actually left the room, imagining that the boy had actually obeyed his mental command.

Now, go away twit.

He wasn’t surprised when she stayed, she was rather engrossed in that cup of tea. Well he’d have to make sure that he tried them all and horded some before she drank them all. Tea was just something he would rather not have to live without with these horrible circumstances.

He was glad once they both left. It was going to be a good day, well rather better than others lately.

But for Harry, it was going to be a bad day at old Ms. Alkin's Provisional First Grade class. It started with a tantrum by Mary Beth before class began, she had wanted to stay home today, badly, and when she was left here she threw a fit good enough for a Dursley, wailing and shrieking and kicking and throwing her lunch box at a wall.

And then, the tattle-tale girl sitting next to Harry told the teacher that Harry hadn’t said the pledge in front of the whole class in an annoyingly stuck up voice, to which Harry very hotly said that he wasn’t American and that he didn’t have to say it if he didn’t want to, never mind that he didn’t even know it. Half of the class didn’t know it as well, if the jumble of voices every morning was anything to go by. But his loud statement caused all the other children to look at him weirdly, like he was a bug or something, the way everyone looked at him in the Wizarding world which he hated. The teacher didn’t make him do anything, just said that it was okay if he didn’t say it because he wasn’t American but then he realized that maybe he was supposed to be American and he just blew their secret identity cover. But there wasn’t much he could do about that afterwards besides worry about it for the rest of the day.

Ms. Alkins put on her glasses and went through her usual routine of telling the children what day it was and what the weather was like, in her old crackling voice. She then reminded the students that show and tell was on Monday and that they all needed to bring something in. Harry was dismally reminded of his failure to get a snake the other day and that he didn’t have anything to bring in and show the class. Show and Tell was going to be just awful, he knew it.

They then had a lesson about money and the value of a dollar. Harry was very lost during the lesson but figured that it was just like a pound. He was just glad that the teacher didn’t call on him when she was asking the students what one could buy with a dollar. She probably remembered that he wasn’t American and wouldn’t know. But that reminded Harry of how he might have made a mistake by claiming that he wasn’t American.

During drawing time he managed to lose himself for a little while, copying the images that the other children at his group drew before one of the girls at his table noticed and told him to stop copying them. And as expected, Jenny complained loudly to the teacher across the room. Harry looked down at what he was drawing and crinkled the paper up, embarrassed once he realized he was drawing a unicorn, and a purple one at that.

The student teacher hurried over at the commotion and reached out to stop Harry, “Harry, don’t do that,” she said kindly, “You can draw a unicorn if you want to. And Jenny, it’s okay if he draws the same thing you do, it’s not breaking a rule. It just means that he likes what you drew.” His face red, Harry let the teacher smoother the paper back out and leave before he picked up a black crayon and started scribbling over it. He wasn’t copying Jenny’s work because he liked it. She was such a tattle tale, he decided that he would call her Miss Tattle Tale from now on. She deserved it.

“You can copy mine, Harry!” Benny called out eagerly from across the desks, trying to show Harry what he drew. It looked like blobs of different colours, maybe planets? There was a star on one corner. Harry smiled as best he could and got another piece of paper out to draw circles on, he really didn’t want to colour at all. Would he get in trouble if he didn’t?

Yes, Harry was having a bad day. But it turned out that the teacher was too.

It seemed that Mary Beth’s tantrum that morning was not unfounded. She threw up right before lunch, and it was right next to the teacher’s desk. The smell permeated the room, and the students were evacuated into the hall while someone came in to take care of the problem.

Afterwards, the room didn’t smell so good, a mixture of sick and lemon cleaning supplies, and unfortunately, the students had to eat their lunch in there. The fans were on and the windows were open and the smell was much dispersed, but even so, the Lunch minders did not want to spend any more time in the classroom then they had to. The current woman was standing in the doorway. Harry looked at his sandwich warily, he didn’t exactly want to eat it now. He left it unwrapped at the corner of his desk. Maybe having some sweets first would make him feel better.

He traded some with Benny, noticing that the smell seemed to bother him as well.

When one of the lunch minders was lurking outside of the classroom, Bobby walked back from where he had been asking her a question and walked past Harry’s desk purposefully. He reached out and swiped half of Harry’s sandwich and bit into it.

This was the kind of thing that Dudley did to him whenever they were in the same class or room in Primary school. Harry almost couldn’t believe that an almost stranger would do that. He was so stunned that he just watched as Bobby chewed and swallowed, making a disgusted face.

“Ew, this is the same kind my mom gets,” Bobby said before dropping the rest of the bit sandwich onto the middle of Harry’s desk and walking away.

The nerve! Harry really was stunned, if he had tried to talk he was sure that he would have sputtered, but as it was, he just was speechless. No way was he going to let him get away with something like that. Maybe he had to in the past, but not anymore.

He turned toward Ms. Tattle Tale, surprised that she had watched the whole thing and hadn’t immediately ran for a teacher or called out for one.

“Aren’t you going to tell on him?” Harry demanded.

“I like Bobby!” she said snottily and turned back to her own lunch.

Harry just gaped. Unbelievable! Well if she wouldn’t tell on him, then he would. But wait, he didn’t want to be a tattle tale. And really, what could he say and what could they do? He could hear himself now, in a voice just like Jenny’s, “Ms. Lunch minder, Bobby ate my sandwich.” Then what? No, he had to take care of this himself. Next time Bobby tried something like that, he’d do something.

He poked at the sandwich half and pushed it farther away. No way was eating that sandwich now.

After lunch it was time for recess. Harry was still in a foul mood and the way the teachers rounded and ordered everyone really annoyed him, telling them where to stand, how to stand, to get away from the wall or drinking fountains.

Outside Harry was left blissfully alone by Bobby and his friends, but Benny followed him around as he walked along the edge of the playground, trying to talk and be his friend. Harry would have welcomed such an attempt of friendship, except the way Benny went about it reminded him of some people who would follow him around at Hogwarts and basically do the same thing, only with camera flashes. It left a funny feeling in his stomach, and so, Harry found it difficult to really want to be Benny’s friend.

During recess the sun was hiding behind grey clouds and halfway through it started to lightly rain. Harry’s grade was ushered into the gymnasium where wet sneakers made squeaking noises on the glossed wooden floor. They were passed out balls and told to play.

For some reason, recess lasted longer than usual today, a lot longer, and Harry’s class was the last to be collected, well after the other ones.

They were lined up outside the gymnasium for what seemed like long time. Harry probably should have tried to line up far away from Bobby, but he hadn’t thought of that, and so he found himself standing right next to him as they waited in the corridor for the teacher to tell them that they were going back to their classroom.

With such an unusual series of events that day, the students were antsy, more so because they could feel that something was wrong, but no one knew quite what that was. Bobby was restless, Harry could tell. The bigger boy spotted Benny standing next to Harry, his large glasses askew and his nose wet and dripping. He sneered at him and crossed his arms.

“You freak.”

Something inside Harry snapped. It was like a rubber band that just let go. Something pushed Bobby from the side, he was surprised and lost his balance, tripped and landed into the wall.

Very angry, he picked himself up and turned around before launching himself at the person nearest the direction the push came from, which just happened to be one of his own friends. He didn’t seem to know what else to do. Harry just stood there, horrified with the rest of the children who saw, not sure if that was what really happened; They were all kind of stunned at how Bobby was pushed by nothing. But Harry had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what it was.

It had been him. He had used magic. The one thing that he wasn’t to do.

A lunch minder ran over and broke up the fight that hadn’t really started and marched the two children over to an office across the way. Another one rounded up the children and started to walk them back to the classroom.

He had used magic. What did that mean? Would he be in trouble with the Ministry? Would they come and find him right away? Could they even? He had to tell Hoppity. He got out of the moving line and purposefully went towards the adult at the back of the line. He was surprised to see that it was his student teacher, Miss Kincaid. Well that was good then, she was one of his teachers and it was supposed to be class time now anyway.

“Miss Kincaid, Miss Kincaid,” Harry called out trying to get her attention, stopping before her. She looked a little upset about something.

“What is it Harry? It’s time to go to class now.”

“Miss Kincaid, I need to see my mum, she’s just over there,” Harry said, pointing down the corridor to where the offices were.

“Why Harry? Are you hurt? Is your stomach upset?”

“No, none of those, I need to tell her something. It’s urgent.”

But unfortunately for Harry, the student teacher just couldn’t deal with that right now. Something very big had happened and she now found herself possibly being the classroom’s only teacher for the rest of the school year and she just couldn't deal with a child demanding to see his mum in the middle of the school day for superficial reasons.

“I’m sorry, You’re going to have to wait until class is over. That’s only in an hour and you can tell her then.”

Harry gave a very tense expression. “But please-“

“No, Harry. You have to go to class just like everyone else. They don’t have mums in the building that they can talk to whenever they want. And if you’re not hurt or sick then you need to go to class.” Her decision and tone was final. There was no way Harry could get her to change her mind, only try her patience.

Harry scowled but allowed himself to be guided back to the line of children returning to the classroom. The offices were right down there… if he broke away he could make a run for it. Would the teacher run after him? What would he tell her afterwards, what excuse could he possibly make that would be urgent to see Hoppity for? He couldn’t just claim he did magic.

This was so frustrating!

But there was only an hour left of class, the teacher said so. How long did it take for an owl to travel from England anyway? It had to be at least hours, the plane trip took forever and it moved a lot faster than an owl…

When they were back in the classroom, everyone noticed the absence of Ms. Alkins but the student teacher said that she was away and that she couldn’t come back for awhile, and that she was going to be their teacher. But children are incredibly empathic creatures, and her explanation didn’t really satisfy anyone.

Harry managed to last the last hour or so of school, he was distracted by the activities that they did. By the time school ended, he wasn’t so sure that he had to tell Hoppity anymore. If the Ministry knew and he was expelled, there wouldn’t be anything to tell until the owl came. Which would take hours at least

He was silent for most of the car ride back to their house, and even more silent as he sat at the kitchen table afterwards.

It had been hours since the incident. How long did it take for an owl to travel to him anyway? The pressing need to tell someone was back. Hoppity was standing just there across the room, he could just open his mouth and say it…

“It’s time for Occlumency,” Snape said upon seeing the small boy sitting at the table idly. It was early yet, but if the boy had nothing better to do…

But Harry made no move to leave the kitchen, or even move at all.

“Alright, Potter, out with it. I can obviously see that something is on your mind.”

Harry breathed and looked anxiously down at the table. “I did magic, today at school” he admitted quietly, fearing the worst.

Silence. Well, that must mean that it was a big deal, and a bad deal. Harry started to feel terrible and he looked up fearfully. Snape didn’t seem that mad or upset, he did seem bothered. Hoppity just looked a little shocked, but not too worried.

“Is that- well I know that’s bad, but-” Harry swallowed.

Snape set his features. “Well I don’t think that the Ministry will be able to tell, but we should wait to see if there’s a notice.”

“But would the ministry be able to sense it, all the way here?” Hoppity asked.

“I don’t believe so.”

But that seemed to remind Harry of something… something Dumbledore had told him… what was it?

“Well, they shouldn’t be able to find us, in any case.”

“Oh no!” Harry suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had said, about not doing magic because the owl wouldn’t survive the trip! Harry was very anxious, almost freaking out at that. His eyes were opened large, an anxious expression on his face, mouth slightly parted.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Hoppity asked, suddenly worried at Harry’s obvious distress.

“An owl,” Harry replied, his eyes watering.

“What about them?” she asked very concernedly.

“It’s going to die bringing a post for,” he sobbed, “Me.” Hoppity reached out her arms and hugged the sobbing boy tight. Snape curled his lips in disgust. What was wrong with the brat? Don’t tell him that he was actually that delicate, to care about an owl….

She let go to look at the boy in the eyes. “Oh, oh, don’t worry Harry. I’m pretty sure that when Professor Dumbledore said that an owl wouldn’t survive the trip, that he was only joking.”

Pretty sure? Harry’s doubt must have shown on his face for Hoppity continued, “Even if the Ministry could tell all the way here that magic was done, or that it was even you who did the magic, very doubtful by the way, and even if an owl would be able to 'feel' where you are, it would stop before crossing the ocean.” Well she hoped so but she wasn’t going to tell Harry otherwise. An owl wouldn’t be that stupid would it? No of course not. She didn’t think.

But Harry seemed to be less upset and that was all that mattered right then. She looked up and frantically hoped that Snape wasn’t going to ruin that by telling Harry what he hoped. But Snape didn’t seem inclined to. If a half-dead owl showed up, well then it would still be alive, but if a sent owl never showed up and died, well it wouldn’t show up so the boy would never know. As much fun causing Potter distress was, he still had to get through a Meditation Occlumency lesson with the brat and it wouldn’t be easier on himself if the boy were so distressed.

“He’s probably too wound up for our lesson, now,” Snape said only slightly peevishly as he got out the tea kettle and started to make some calming tea. He got out three cups and started to mix herbs, placing the kettle on the stove top.

Hoppity brushed Harry’s fringe off of his forehead, and then curiously looked into the pots of tea leaves on the table. There was a small dent in the plentiful amount. “Have you been drinking tea all day?” Hoppity asked Snape amusedly. All she got in response was a glare, perhaps not as scorching as usual. Must be all that tea, she thought jokingly to herself, she was sure that he had had at least seven cups today already. Harry had calmed down some in her arms and she patted his head while she sat leaned back in the chair next to him, glad that the Owl crisis was over with for now, and hoping that nothing would happen to make it come back.

The tea was soon ready and they all enjoyed a cup, Snape pushing Harry’s cup closer to the boy and telling him to drink when Harry didn’t make any move for it. Afterwards, Harry seemed much calmer and the two of them disappeared into the back room for an Occlumency lesson.

---

Snape was down in his lab when the light went out. It was quite startling, one moment he was working in a brightly lit room, and the next moment, darkness. He supposed that perhaps it was the electricity, or perhaps it would come back on later, or the light was broken and had to be replaced with another. Well if it didn’t work later, he’d just have to use magical means for lights. In any case, it was a perfect time for a break, he had been meaning to take one anyway. Snape whipped out his wand and cast a Lumos spell, deciding that a cup of tea was not unfounded.

Snape emerged from the dung- ahem, cellar to the relative brightness of the ground floor. Fortunately, he was well ahead of schedule and decided that he had earned a long break. As he entered the front room, his eyes swept past that inane toy that Harry and his little friend had been so engrossed in last week. He wondered what its appeal was. Hmm... well it wasn't like there was anyone around to see him should he choose to examine it.

Snape strode forward purposefully, intending on discovering why Potter found it so engrossing. There was a strange rectangular device with a slot on top that he could tell was intended for one of those smaller packages to go into. Two short cables connected the device to two strange... things.

Snape had noticed that when Potter played it he had the- what was this box called? The 'tellie? on. He turned the 'tellie' on. Nothing. He looked down at the device. Perhaps he needed to put one of those small packages in to get it to work. It only took two tries to place the package in the slot successfully. Still nothing. Frowning, Snape picked up the strange controller thingy and pressed random buttons. Still nothing.

What was he doing wrong? He inspected the device once again and this time he spotted a switch. It was turned to 'off'. Feeling a bit silly, Snape turned the switch to the 'on' position and the 'tellie' sprung to life. Super Spy XLL, read the screen in big red letters.

A black clad man ran quickly across the screen and stopped at the end, leaning against an imaginary wall. The man on the screen turned quickly and shot behind him before running off the screen. The game menu came up next with interesting background music and a menu: New Game, Load Game, Multi-player, Options. Snape looked down at the strange controller thingy and pressed several buttons to see what happened. A music chime sounded and the 'New Game' screen loaded. A feminine voice said 'Select your character'.

There were 7 different boxes with pictures of people spinning around in them. Snape passed a formal looking Muggle man, a lady in a red dress, a midget in a clown suit, a large muscular man, a braniac looking girl and a duck to select the last one, a tall man all in black with goggles on his face and two large looking hand guns.

The screen changed. "Input user name." User name? What was that?

He blinked and then realized that he was to name his character. Snape thought for a minute. He decided to use Insoluable Unrivaled Alchemist. It was a very noteworthy name. It took some minutes to figure out how to get through the letters and by the time he got halfway through 'Unrivaled' an irritating beeping noise sounded and the screen flashed red. With some disappointment Snape realized that the name wouldn't fit. Backtracking, he decided that he would have to go with 'Insoluble man' instead. He managed to input the name and the game began to load...

---

Meanwhile…

The grass was hot in the mid afternoon sun. Harry struggled to put his new football shoes on as the other children already on the field called out happily, their calls to each other reverberating on the small field.

Mrs. K hadn’t come in to school that day and the student teacher had been their teacher. It had been kind of odd but other than the explanation that she would be away for awhile, nothing else had been told to them about her. With only one teacher, Harry had had less attention during art, and Jessica, the girl sitting next to him had had fewer opportunities to tell on him so it had been an alright day, as far as school days went.

But Harry wasn’t interested in any school things right now, for he had just got on his shoes and was ready to play. Michael’s mum was there making sure that he had his funny shin plates on right, something she said he had to have right. He stood up, they felt really weird, but it was okay because Harry was used to wearing stuff like that on his arms for Quidditch.

He took a couple of steps on the soft grass, and then looked back at the knot of parents and sibling milling about on the edge of the field and waved at Hoppity and Michael’s mum before racing off to where Michael was practicing his kicks with a ball. Michael saw him coming and with a toothy grin, he kicked the ball towards Harry. It was a little off, but Harry ran towards it intending to stop it the way the pros on the telly did.

He guess that he wasn’t quite as talented as the pros, because next thing he knew he had tripped over it and landed in a heap on the grass. He could hear brief laughing behind him, and knowing that his face was red Harry sat up and scowled at the ball.

Michael ran up to him, his light laughter not as hurtful as the parents’ behind him, “Ha, are you okay Harry?”

“Yeah, m’okay,”

Just then, a whistle blew and a loud male voice rang out, “Okay kids, everyone come over here!” Harry looked around a spotted a man with a white cap on and an old green shirt. He had a whistle around his neck and a bit of a pot belly, but was definitely the coach. Michael had already started running towards him, kicking his ball in front a little clumsily, and Harry hurried to catch up.

“Everyone get your ball and line up, if you don’t have a ball come here,” the coach said as he passed out the black and white balls to each child that came over. “And what’s your name?” he asked upon seeing Harry and handing the small boy a ball.

“I’m Harry, sir.” He held the large ball in his arms, and shrugged a little.

“Okay, Harry! I’m Coach Renolds and you can just call me Coach if you forget,” the man said as he leaned over a little to speak to Harry. “Have you ever played soccer before?”

“No, sir,” Harry replied dutifully. Well had he? He couldn’t quite remember ever playing it, not really.

“Well you just line up over there and I’ll help you a little,” he stood up and blew his whistle, “Okay kids, pay attention, it’s time to play our square game. Who remembers how to do the square game?”

A bunch of small players raised their hands and jumped up and down. There were a few “I do!” and “I know Coach!” and Harry positioned himself, at the end of the row of about 12 children, feeling not a little lost and still holding his football. Michael moved over and stood next to him, unable to hide his excitement.

“Who can tell Harry here how to do the Square game?” Coach Renolds asked the group. “Allison?” he asked, calling on a small girl that seemed like she would explode if she didn’t get to tell him.

She nodded her chin proudly and spoke in a childish lilt, “We dribble our balls across.”

“Yes, that’s right, we all dribble our balls across to the white line and we stop, and when Coach says so we dribble back,” Coach Renolds said, filling in the missing information.

“And remember that when you dribble, you have to kick with your shoelaces.” What? Harry looked down at his shoes and looked at the shoelaces on the top of his shoes. How did one do that?

Michael had started to swing back and forth from his waist, obviously impatient to start. Coach put a ball down and rested it in the inside of one foot. “Kick with the inside of your foot, near the shoelaces,” he said giving an example kick.

Oh. That made sense.

“Is everyone ready? Harry, you have to put your ball down. You too, Nadia.” Harry put his ball down on the grass next to Michael’s, suddenly NOT feeling ready.

“Remember, kick the ball with the inside of your shoes. And don’t kick anyone else’s ball! No shoving! Ready? Go!”

The small soccer players started to kick their balls over the grass, starting with exuberance, but slowing down once they actually got into it. The distance wasn’t very long at all but with everyone right next to each other, they had to be more careful and go slower. New at this, Harry followed at the end, concentrating fiercely.

“Peter, we’re dribbling now,” Coach called out to a boy who was still just standing there to get him to move. The clutter of footballers moved forward. “Heng, good job!” Coach called out.

They finally all made it to the white line on the grass and stopped. “All right everyone, now come back now.” Harry looked down at his ball and started to kick it forwards once again. “Kick with the inside of your foot!” Coach called out to everyone again. Now that Harry had some practice of kicking the ball, he felt himself begin to relax a little and it was actually really fun! He chased after his ball after the other players.

They crossed the field a total of six times, and at the end Coach even said a “Good job, Harry!”

The rest of the practice was filled with little games like that and some drills, only they all were a lot of fun. When they split up into groups of two Harry got to practice kicking to ball to Michael, and this time he didn’t trip over the ball and fall flat on his face. Well okay, maybe he did once, that that was an accident.

By the end of practice, Harry had had a great time, he didn’t really want to stop but he realized that he was a little tired and ready for a snack before dinner. Coach Renolds followed him and Michael back to where their mums were staying, well Hoppity and Michael’s mum, and talked to Hoppity for a bit, gave her a piece of paper with rules Harry had to memorize before next practice and told her that she should get a soccer ball for Harry if he could.

All in all, it was a good day.