I'm in my room again. I'm making myself invisible. I'm silent. They can't see me or hear me. Because if they do, they are going to hold me down and beat me again. They never leave marks. Only the pain. And then they laugh as they throw me in a corner and tell me to shut up already and not be such a baby. My fists are still stuffed in my mouth so no sob will escape. Escape. Oh how I wish I could.

The boy curled up inside the cupboard that protected him, at least in his fantasy it did. And so far, his family had left him alone when he hid there. His parents had died when he'd been only a year old and his mother's sister and her husband had taken him in. To children's servies, it had been an act of generosity and kindness and it hadn't taken long for them to ease up on and finally abandon regular check-ups altogether. It had left the small boy entirely at his relatives' mercy. His cousin, older by a year, took advantage of having a scapegoat. Even when the crimes committed were way beyond his young cousin's abilities, he got blamed, and the elder fled crying crocodile tears to his mother while the father undertook the smaller boy's punishment. It seemed to do far more than satisfy any urge to educate and instill values. The boy knew on some level that the grunts and groans following each smack and slap were out of the ordinary and he pinched his eyes shut, biting his little fists to give the man no further incentive. Instinctively he took himself out of the picture, his mind busy creating a safe world for himself where the outside world couldn't reach. And always when the man left, he would quietly slip to the bathroom and clean himself off. The cold water also took away some of the sting that the man's palmprints left on his skin. Then the cupboard would embrace and comfort him. Darkness became safety and the boy became invisible.

The woman went to answer the door. "Mrs. Dursley?", the man standing on the step said. He carried a briefcase and was accompanied by a primly dressed woman in her late twenties whose look froze Petunia to the core. Her mind frantically ran through all the options and stopped at the thought of where Vernon was right now. She attempted to smile but couldn't quite hide her anxiety as she said, "yes, what can I do for you?" "May we come in, Mrs. Dursley? We're from children's services and need to speak to you on account of a complaint we've received several times. In spite of your generosity in taking in your sister's son, we do need to see him and assure ourselves of his wellbeing. You do understand, don't you?"

Petunia stepped back and pointed the way to her livingroom, graciously bidding them to seat themselves while she got Harry. She also offered them something to drink which both coldly declined. As she rushed up the stairs to her nephew's room, she prayed that Vernon would be in his study but when she passed it, it was empty and her heart fell. When she came closer to Harry's door, she could hear the frantic slapping and her husband's groans, telling her the state of affairs. She didn't bother knocking, instead she silently closed the door behind herself and slapped Vernon's face. His eyes had been closed and his hands had been busy, she could see. Harry's small butt, thighs and lower back were bright red and the boy had curled himself up as much as humanly possible, hanging over one of his uncle's ample thighs. Petunia held her hand over Vernon's mouth about to open in outrage and shook her head. The fear in her eyes must have communicated to him as he stifled the yell of rage at the interruption of his endeavours. She mouthed, "Children's services, they want to see Harry, what do we do?" as Vernon set Harry on the floor and zipped his fly. "Wash him up, Pet, I'll keep them entertained and Dudley should be home from kindergarten soon. I think we have enough distractions in place and Harry knows to keep his mouth shut, don't you, boy?" He shook the boy, and Harry nodded frantically, relieved to be saved from further torture for the moment. He allowed Petunia to lead him away and Vernon steamed down corridor and stairs, running his hand through his sparse hair and taking deep breaths to calm himself.

The visitors had become a little anxious in the meantime. After all, how long could it take to fetch a small boy left to his own devices, apparently? When Vernon walked in, smiling, and apologised for the delay, Harry had had a little accident and his wife was only giving him fresh clothes, the man relaxed a little. The woman however, asked if Harry's accidents were a regular event, and if he still wet his bed at night, watching Vernon closely as he cast about for an answer. After some stuttering attempts to cover his ignorance, he told them that Harry of COURSE was a really good boy and that such incidents occurred only every once in a blue moon now. He was three and a half and had learned very well to relieve himself properly and all by himself now. Vernon also tried to offer the two social workers something to drink, but both declined once more and the woman finally stood and firmly told him she would go lend a hand to Petunia as it seemed to take a bit long for only a change of clothes. She walked up the stairs. Vernon listened to every step, almost picturing in his mind where precisely she was at each moment, dreading that one when she would reach Petunia and Harry. It was a welcome distraction when the doorbell rang. He nearly jumped out of his chair and told the social worker it must be the busdriver who brought his son from kindergarten. The man nodded, staying seated as Vernon welcomed Dudley home and brought him to the livingroom to introduce the two of them. "Daddy, wot the man want here?" the boy inquired, "and where's Mommy? I's hungwy!" The social worker looked Dudley over, noting the boy's figure closely resembling his father's girth. He wondered at the boy's age and vocabulary. Could he really be four and a half?

In the meantime, the female social worker had quietly made her way to the end of the corridor. The bathroom door was not quite closed and she heard Petunia's soothing voice, at first unable to distinguish the words. "It's ok, Harry dear.. it will be ok by tonight and I'll even give you sweet dessert if you just don't talk to the people downstairs. You be a good boy now and tell them how much we love you and everything will be alright." At that, she pushed the door open, picked up the half-dressed boy, his hands still wrapped in the t-shirt Petunia had just been putting on him, and whisked him out the door. Harry gasped in surprise, but held on to the stranger anyway. In his mind, any change could only be for the better. As the social worker passed the livingroom, she called out to her colleague, "Serve them the papers. It's all true. And make sure they pack a bag for him before the police take them away." She walked out the front door, cuddling Harry to her and only stopping to put the rest of his shirt on when she had him safely in the car. Her movements were gentle and she caressed his arm while she strapped him into the car seat. "We'll take care of you now, Harry. You don't have to be afraid anymore. They can't hurt you now, sweetheart." She sat next to him and when he reached for her hand, she allowed him to hold on tight as they waited for the man to join them.

Arabella Figg stood in her breakfast nook as she watched the social workers' arrival and her first thought was to contact Albus Dumbledore. She walked to the back of her house, out into her garden, straight to the small foliere she had allowed the Hogwarts' headmaster to set up there. She quickly sat on the bench beside it, took paper and pen from the drawer underneath it and wrote a few words. Quick and efficient in her movements, she attached the rolled up paper to the foot of a small grey owl that leaned its head into her hand before it hooted once and took off. Arabella threw in some grain and opened a cage of mice before she closed the foliere once more. Frantic squeaking on one side and fluttering of wings on the other accompanied her walk back to her house. By the time she reached the kitchen door, contented silence had set in again as the owls fed on their prey. The small elderly woman heavily sat down at the table where she could watch what happened and she found herself praying that help would come in time. When she saw the woman put the small boy clinging to her in the car, and moments later the man join them, she knew she had failed. A single tear slid down her cheek as she inadvertantly waved goodbye to the boy she'd tried to watch over.

It was late evening when the Headmaster was back in his office. Immediately he noticed the small owl perched on his window sill, and his steps were unusually quick as he went to relieve it of its burden. He quietly thanked the small bird and watched for a moment as it took off to the owlery. The sparse message on the paper made him sigh and stroke his beard anxiously.

Eventually he went to bed. Fawkes settled on the rod on his nightstand, tucked in his head and went to sleep. Sleep eluded Albus Dumbledore for quite some time, until even his busy mind decided his body needed rest.

He woke up early, and as he dressed in the unfamiliar clothes he would have to wear today, he shook his head at the effort Muggles went to to look proper and businesslike. At last, he stood and tucked his pocket watch into the vest next to his wand and stepped up to the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic," he clearly and loudly stated as the powder dissipated with a puff, delivering him to one of the many fireplaces on the Ministry's main hall. He quickly walked out the front doors and sought out a phonebooth with a directory inside. The address he found under the entry he'd sought, surprised him a little. He'd expected it to be in a slightly better part of town. But then, it figured... Maybe the location was chosen for a reason. He stepped out of the cubicle and walked to the curb, hailing a cab. It didn't take long for one to stop for the imposing old man and he folded his tall frame into the backseat with some difficulty. Brooms were SO much more comfortable but today he couldn't afford to look conspicuous. He got a surprised look from the cabby when he told him the address he wanted to get to but without further ado, he started driving.

After 40 minutes and some backstreets to avoid the traffic in the main arteries of London, they arrived in front of a non-descript house in a residential area. Dumbledore paid and got out. He looked up at the four storey building and hoped he would find what he sought there. He took the steps with assurance and opened the door to "Children's services" as the plaque beside the door stated boldly.