I know I know I should be working on any one of my stories, chapters and rewrites. If I had any sense I wouldn't even post this one until I had something. But I hadn't seen anything else quite like it.

Concrete angel

The woman fidgeted in her chair only slightly startled about the question. "Harry Potter?" she repeated, "well he was a trouble maker. Attention problems, always getting in fights things like that."

The first time it had happened was when he accidentally spilled blue paint on his teacher. It had gotten all over the woman, including in her hair. The young boy's uncle had beaten him nearly into unconsciousness and locked him into the shoe closet to heal in darkness. No one at the school thought anything of his sudden 'illness'. In his fever dreams he saw the wig turn blue again and again. Healed but still a bit sickly his mind had hidden the beating. As far as little Harry Potter was concerned he had been punished for unnaturalness by merely being locked away. It could be worse.

"Did you see any of these fights?" The officer pressed.

The teacher blinked, "well no, but everyone knew that the boy picked fights with the bigger boys. He was always bruised from fights."

Fear gave strength like nothing else. It was fear that caused the slip of a child to scramble up a drainpipe to the low roof of the school shed. The blows that rained down upon the waif knocked him aside. They also knocked him into the coffee table at weird angle. Because he had never seen a doctor he would always bear a lightening shaped scar after that incident. The authorities easily accepted that the injury must have come from the climb. No one noticed the boy muttering about not remembering how he ended up on the roof and about magic.

The officer's patience was clearly wearing thin. "What do you mean by everyone?" He asked with a faux calm.

"Why the entire school, of course. As soon as I found out he was to be in my class I tracked down his former teacher and she told me all about him; His fighting and his lying. Why are you asking all these questions about him, officer?"

The officer gave her a look of pure disbelief, "You truly don't know?" Disgust seeped into his tone.

There were other times and just like before his mind protected him. To the little boy he grew up hungry and unloved but unbroken; untouched. Then came the last time. It was the only time he had ever been allowed to accompany the family and it was to the Zoo for his cousin's birthday. It had been pure chance that they entered just as the python had escaped its handler. That it veered toward them and that Dudley pushed Harry over in an attempt to escape. One shove too many it had finally raised the child ire.

The waif's uncle caught sight of his nephew shoving his son back. The man watched as the larger boy toppled in surprise even as the snake was caught. He managed to keep his temper until that night but it was unleashed upon the black hair child; the interloper to his perfect family.

"Noticed what?"

"Haven't you wondered where Harry Potter or Dudley Dursley has been these last few weeks?"

The teacher shrugged like the last six before her, "A vacation I suppose. They've been out since Dudley's birthday."

A scream of pure pain and fear echoed across Privet Drive. Its high pitched resonance failed to do more than wake a few of the residents despite the volume. All but one of those who woke merely turned in their sleep and ignored the sounds of pain coming from number 4. The gentleman at number 8, a kind hearted oversized fellow who didn't quite believe the rumors, woke with a start at the sound. Once he heard it again and realized where it was coming from he hastily called the police. The neighborhood slept on for a quarter of an hour more while the man from number eight made his way out of his house to the front of number eight.

He arrived moments after two almost bored officers. Clearly they thought he had been mistaken when low sound of pain just barely caught their ears. It drew the officers to alert and man from number eights muscles with tension.

The door crashed open and the scene that they took in had the officers calling for backup and an ambulance even as they wrestled Vernon Dursley away from the prone, bleeding form of his nephew. With all the grace of an elephant the man from number eight dropped down next to the barely conscious boy.

Sirens cut the air and within moments the room was filled with EMT's and paramedics. The gently but firmly pushed the gentleman from number eight to the side and began to try and stabilize the boy.

Just before they wheeled him away the gentleman managed to get out a single choked, "You'll be alright now Harry."

"Madam you are the last six teachers and the principle who interacted with Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley on a regular basis. In these interviews we have heard similar answers and it is appalling what those answers were. Dudley Dursley has been taken in by Child Protective Services. Harry Potter has been taken to Surrey General Hospital. All indications have been that young Harry had been abused for at least 6 years and no one noticed anything. All of you have said the same things in regard to him. He was a trouble maker, yet no one had seen him make any trouble or start any fights. He was a liar yet no one could point out one solid lie he had told. I will ask you what I asked the others, how was this boy forgotten?"

In a hut on a rock out in the middle of the sea a young boy counts down to his eleventh birthday. In just a few minutes a kindly giant of a man will come through the door and offer him a choice. The choice will be to stay with his relatives or venture into a whole new world where he would finally find acceptance.

Outside the boy's mind the kindly giant of a man sits by the boy's hospital bed. He has done this for over a month; paid for the boys hospital bills from his own pocket and mourned the life that has been cut too short. The gentleman will never know that his actions that night had cemented his role of savior and friend; that even now his likeness was being used to guide the boy into peace. He will never know of the world the boy created or the letters in green ink that he had never read. All he knows is that the moment Harry Potter chose to follow his new friend Hagrid into adventure machines began to shriek.

It would have surprised Harry Potter at the crowd that gathered for this funeral. There was a small headstone, again paid for by the gentleman of number 8. Its simple inscription 'Harry Potter July 31 1981- July 31 1992 Never to be forgotten again' was stark against the marble.

Teachers and students, neighbors, and strangers all gathered to say goodbye to this one little boy. This son of drunkards who never cried or derailed his life would be lifted as a tragic hero. Around the country newspapers and television would follow the story rabidly. They speak in hushed tones of this little forgotten child and because of this tragedy teachers would look closer, would question.

And in death an eleven year old wizard would take a seat on a train…