The morning of Harrison's first day at school began with an unusual quiet in the Dursley house.
Petunia had laid out Harrison's uniform the night before: a crisp white shirt, a slightly oversized sweater, and neatly pressed trousers. She smoothed each fold obsessively, as though the perfection of his outfit might shield him from the imperfections of the day ahead.
Harrison sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers over the soft fabric. "Is it itchy?" he asked.
"No, love. It's not itchy."
He nodded, satisfied, though he had nothing to compare it to.
---
Breakfast was a chaotic affair, as usual. Dudley had managed to fling his spoonful of cereal across the table, splattering milk on the walls. Vernon roared about timekeeping, Petunia scrubbed furiously at the mess, and amidst it all, Harrison sat quietly, nibbling at a slice of toast.
"Do I need to bring anything?" Harrison asked between bites.
"Just your bag, dear," Petunia replied, glancing at the small satchel she had packed for him the night before. Inside were a few essentials: a pencil case, a notebook, and a neatly folded handkerchief.
Dudley smirked from his high chair, bits of cereal clinging to his cheeks. "Bet he gets lost before lunch," he mumbled, just loud enough for Harrison to hear.
Petunia shot her son a sharp look. "That's enough, Dudley."
But the words hung in the air, heavier than she intended.
---
When they arrived at the school gates, Petunia knelt beside Harrison and adjusted his sweater one last time. "You'll be fine," she said, though the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her nerves. "Just remember to listen to your teacher. And don't hesitate to ask for help."
Harrison tilted his head toward her, his expression calm but curious. "What's it like?"
"What's what like, dear?"
"School."
Petunia hesitated. "It's... busy. Noisy, sometimes. But you'll learn so much. And you'll make friends."
The word "friends" felt foreign to him, almost mythical. At home, he had only Dudley, who was more adversary than companion.
"Okay," Harrison said simply, gripping his cane tightly.
---
Inside the classroom, the noise was overwhelming.
Children shouted greetings to one another, the scrape of chairs echoed off the walls, and somewhere in the corner, someone burst into uncontrollable giggles. Harrison stood near the door, gripping Petunia's hand, his expression unreadable.
"Mrs. Dursley?" A cheerful voice broke through the din.
A woman with a bright smile and kind eyes approached them. "I'm Mrs. Cartwright," she said, crouching to Harrison's level. "You must be Harrison."
"Yes, ma'am," he said politely.
"Well, we're very excited to have you here. Let me show you your desk."
Petunia released his hand reluctantly, watching as Mrs. Cartwright guided him to a small table near the front of the room. His desk was fitted with a small raised grid for learning shapes and letters by touch. Harrison ran his fingers over the surface, exploring.
"Do you need anything else, Harrison?" Mrs. Cartwright asked.
He shook his head. "No, thank you, ma'am."
---
The morning passed in a blur of introductions and instructions.
Harrison was quiet, listening carefully to the voices around him. He learned the names of the children sitting closest to him: Lucy, who had a soft, lilting voice, and Eric, who spoke so quickly Harrison had to concentrate to keep up.
When Mrs. Cartwright introduced him to the class, there was a brief, awkward silence.
"This is Harrison Potter," she said warmly. "He's going to be learning alongside all of you this year. And you may notice he has a cane—that's to help him navigate since he's blind. But just like you, he's here to learn and have fun!"
A boy in the back snickered. "Blind?" he whispered to his neighbor, but the word carried.
Harrison didn't react. He sat quietly, his fingers tracing the edge of his desk, waiting for the attention to shift elsewhere.
---
At lunch, Harrison sat alone on a bench, his small lunchbox resting on his lap. The sound of children laughing and running around filled the air, but he felt oddly detached from it, as though he were an observer rather than a participant.
He unfolded his sandwich carefully, taking small bites and savoring the simple taste. He had just finished when a voice interrupted his solitude.
"Hi."
He turned his head toward the voice. It was Lucy, the girl who sat near him in class.
"Hi," Harrison replied.
"Why are you sitting here alone?" she asked, her tone genuinely curious.
"I like it here," he said simply.
"I brought pudding," she said. "Want some?"
Harrison smiled faintly. "No, thank you."
Then Lucy asked, "What's it like? Being blind?"
Harrison paused, considering her question. "It's... normal," he said finally. "For me, anyway. I don't really know any different."
Lucy nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "Okay."
She walked away.
---
By the time the day ended, Harrison was exhausted.
Petunia was waiting for him at the gates, her face a mixture of relief and apprehension. "How was it?" she asked, guiding him gently toward the car.
"It was fine," he said, his tone neutral.
