I don't know where this story is going to go, but I guess that's what makes it all the more magical, never really knowing what's to come.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, of course, that belongs to the beautiful JK Rowling.

Reviews are golden, for this to get better, I need the feedback.

Harry Potter didn't know why everyone treated him differently; he was just like all of the other children. Well, maybe he was a little bit smaller than all the other kids, and his clothes didn't fit, but otherwise, he was just the same as everybody else.

All he had ever wanted was to fit in. His cousin Dudley fit in just fine with everybody in his class, all the children wanted to play with Dudley, because they all thought Dudley was 'cool.' Harry didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but he did know whatever it was couldn't be very pleasant. Dudley was a horrible child, and Harry was his punching bag, and if using people as punching bags was cool, then Harry definitely didn't want to be cool.

He hadn't been at school very long, only a few weeks in fact, but all the other students seemed to think he was weird. Nobody ever talked to him at lunchtime, and nobody would ever invite him to join in on their games, so he would go sit on the playground by himself and draw pictures in the sand with his fingers.

Harry loved drawing pictures in the sand more than anything else when he was at school.

He would draw people, dressed up in pretty dresses and fancy bowties, with big smiles on their faces. Often he would name the sand people, and make up stories with them. His favourite sand person was Lily, she was a pretty redheaded girl in a pink polka dotted dress. Lily loved to pick flowers, and give them to all her sand friends.

It always made Harry smile when Lily was around to pick flowers in the sand. Sometimes, when he thought really hard, he could hear her voice, it was a very sweet voice, and oddly familiar at the same time. But some days Lily wasn't there, so he would just play with his other sand-friends until she came.

Harry hated having to leave his sand friends behind for the real world, his classes were not very much fun. Every time the class split into pairs to practice reading together, Harry was always somehow left without a partner. It made his heart sad that nobody wanted to be his friend in the real world, because he was just like everybody else. At least he thought he was.

Being at home was just as awful as being at school. Harry always had to make sure he was out of sight when Dudley got bored of his new toys, because Dudley's favourite thing to do when he was bored as to chase Harry around the house until he either cornered him and beat him up, or got tired. Harry was glad he was a good runner, and a good hider, because Dudley was not a very good chaser.

One day, Harry was sitting in the sand, finger moving rapidly through the grains, carving out his friends, when somebody stepped right on top of his drawings. Harry stared at the sneakers for a moment, and he felt his tummy turn over. Those were Dudley's shoes.

He looked up at his cousin, he never thought Dudley had a very nice face; he looked a little bit like the pigs in the farm books Harry read on his own in class. Now Dudley's face was screwed up in a funny kind of smile that only meant one thing to Harry, Dudley was bored.

"Where are all your friends?" Dudley sneered "Don't you have any friends?"

All the other kids laughed from behind Dudley, why were they doing that? Harry had never done anything wrong? Why would they laugh at him?

All those questions got pushed away very quickly when his cousin made a clumsy swipe towards Harry, and in an instant, he was running as fast as his little legs would take him, shirt flapping in the wind and hair flying off of his forehead so that the thin lightning bolt scar shone in the bright sunlight. He didn't stop running for a very long time, he ran across the grass and through the school, he ran to his classroom, grabbed his too-big schoolbag, tossing it over his shoulders and ran all the way home.

It wasn't until he actually stopped running out the front of number four, Privet Drive, that he realised he couldn't actually go inside. Aunt Petunia would probably put him in his cupboard for a week for skipping school. He really didn't like his cupboard; it was so very small, even for a six year old, he couldn't fit very much in there, not that he had very much to put in his cupboard anyway.

He hoisted his backpack a little higher on his shoulders and looked around the street for a long moment.

There was a park just on the other side of Magnolia Crescent, he remembered walking there when Dudley had wanted to test out his new bike, it had fancy training wheels and everything. Harry had been incredibly jealous of his cousin that day. He looked back at the house, considering his fate for a second longer, before tottering off in the direction of the park.

It was quite a sight to be seen, the scrawny six year old with terribly messy hair walking down the street with such determination. If Aunt Petunia knew that he was walking through the neighbourhood looking like this, she would probably have a heart attack. Harry had always hated her persistence in trying to flatten his unruly shock of hair, honestly he thought it was a bit silly, if it didn't work the first time, why would it possibly work any of the other times?

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were just like all the children at his school. He didn't know why they treated him differently, he was just the same as every other kid his age, but Dudley got all the toys, and Harry got the disapproving looks. It made him sad that even his family thought he was weird. That didn't seem right to him, a family should love you no matter what, even he knew that much.

When Harry finally found the park, he smiled so big his cheeks ached. There was a sandpit at this park, which meant he could play with his friends again. The friends that didn't think he was weird and always smiled back at him.

He walked very quickly to the sandpit, plopping himself down in the middle and placing his big schoolbag next to him. The sand was warm to the touch, kind of like what a hug would feel like, and Harry really liked that feeling.

He set to work immediately, smoothing the sand with his tiny hands in front of him, before carving his little friends out of the grain. Lily was going to be here today, she just had to, he hadn't seen her in three whole days and he missed her a lot. But when the first smiling face looked up at him, it was Lily, it was James, the boy that Harry thought looked very much like him. He had black hair that didn't sit flat too, and it made Harry giggle to look at him.

James was one of the bravest sand people, he would always do silly things that could get him hurt, but he was always triumphant at the end, and had lots of friends because of it. Maybe that was all Harry had to do to get friends too, maybe he just had to be brave and people would finally want to be his friend at school.

A tiny glimmer of hope ignited in the little boy's tummy.

All he wanted was to have a real friend, just one, but it seemed like Dudley had stolen all the other kids away, and there was no way that Harry was going to try and steal friends from Dudley. He remembered the time he had taken his cousins toy truck outside to play while the rest of the family crowded around the television with the fans blasting. It was a very hot day, so hot that Harry's feet stung when he walked across the small section of paving in the back garden and onto the grass.

Dudley hadn't realised one of his hundreds of toys was missing until he spotted Harry in the garden on his trip to the refrigerator. Oh boy he had screamed a lot, bawling his beady little eyes out and rolling around on the ground, he really did look more and more like a pig as each day crept by. Uncle Vernon had stormed out the back door, grabbed a tiny Harry by the scruff and proceeded to toss him into his cupboard with such force Harry's tiny collection of toy soldiers toppled onto the ground.

If only he wasn't so small, maybe then he could be braver, maybe then he could stand up to his stupid cousin and maybe then Harry could have friends like he wanted. If only he still had his mummy and daddy he wouldn't have to live with Dudley and the Dursleys. He wished he still had his parents so bad it made his chest hurt, sometimes he'd cry when he was locked in his cupboard, he wrap himself in a little ball and wish with all his heart that his mummy and daddy would just come back.

Nobody at number four, privet drive ever talked about Harry's parents, and every time Harry asked question he was put straight back in his cupboard, but that just made him want to ask the questions even more.

Harry had made lots of his sand friends now, all smiling placidly up at him. He wished they could talk to him, then he wouldn't need real friends, he could just talk to the sand.

"Hello."

Harry's eyes grew wide and round, his mouth falling open as he stared down at the sand people. Had one of them really just talked?

"Er... Hello? Are you okay?"

That definitely wasn't the sand, they didn't move, and it sounded like it was coming from behind him. Turning his round eyes over his shoulder cautiously, he gasped in surprise when he saw another boy standing a few feet away.

Harry looked around himself, this boy couldn't possibly be talking to him, nobody ever talked to him. But yet her he was, alone in a sandpit and a boy was talking to him. He stood up clumsily, tugging on his too big shirt awkwardly and turned to face the boy behind him.

Harry had never seen anybody quite like this boy, his skin was very pale, so pale that Harry would normally think he was sick, but it looked quite ordinary against the white blonde hair that dangled in his eyes, his big, silver eyes. He looked at them for quite a while, before he realised the boy was staring at him confusedly.

"Are you okay?" The pale boy asked again, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

"Y-yes, I'm okay." Harry continued to gape. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I don't go to school, not until I turn eleven, but that's a long way away yet. What's your name?" The boy cocked his head to the side and smiled at Harry. No, he wasn't smiling at Harry, he was just smiling, nothing to do with Harry, people never smiled at him.

"I'm Harry."

"Harry, huh, that's a nice name" The boys eyes glittered as he spoke, that smile still playing on his lips.

"I guess..." Harry shifted uncomfortably, he wasn't used to people talking to him without trying to beat him up. "What's your name then?"

"My name's Draco, it means Dragon in some other language."

"Wow, that's a really nice name." Harry felt himself smile, this kid wasn't so bad. "Do you want to go play, or something?"

He didn't even know why he asked that question, why would this kid want to play with scrawny little Harry? But to his surprise, Draco's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, okay! Let's go swing!"

This boy was very nice, Harry decided, very nice indeed.