"BOY!" yelled Vernon Dursley, a rather large man. Large, that would be an understatement. He was about the size of a whale.
"Yes sir." said the flat tone voice of a very tiny three-year-old Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, son of two light Gryffindors. His black-haired head bowed as he awaited his punishment for having not been able to complete the seemingly endless task of chores. Yes, a toddler had chores in this household. Well, only Harry did. His fat blonde-wigged pig simply sat at the television or computer all day, getting larger and more plump by the day. Today, he was set to the task of making the two whales and a stick, a dinner.
Unfortunately, he burnt it. What else could have been expected from a three-year-old not even tall enough to sit on the stool his Aunt had forced him on to cook on the stove, something every parent would agree would be a stupid idea to let a babe near one, let alone cook on it!
Sadly, Petunia and Vernon Dursley weren't exactly the best of parents. Spoiling the jerk of a pig son, and abusing and neglecting a magical boy they named Freak, when his real name was Harry, lying to him about how his parents died and his parents living career, which was an Auror and Healer. But to these stupid cow of an aunt and uncle, told him his father was a drunk and his mother was a .. well, I don't think it'd be proper to say the words they used in front of his delicate ears.
Harry bit his lip as the large beefy hand made contact with the back of his little head. He remained still as his head was forced lower with the palm of the whale of a man's hand.
"You will not be getting any food for two days for this disgusting lack of work you have been giving us. We have clothed, fed, and sheltered you and this is what you repay us with, burning your family's dinner. Go to the cupboard freak!" bellowed the man. Harry nodded and toddled to his bedroom, a.k.a the cupboard under the stairs. He crawled in as Vernon bolted it shut and slammed the vent down so Harry was in the dark.
Harry whimpered inwardly, and breathed silently. He leaned against a bumpy shelf and thought back to the song. Yes, the song that helped him out...
--FLASHBACK-- Harry was simply sitting on a bench alone, when he heard a small tingle of a sound. He perked up, alert as he listened to a woman singing. -END-
She walks to school with the lunch she packed,
Nobody knows what she's holding back.
This made Harry looked up at the beautiful woman in black hair and blue tints. She was singing to a crowd, not noticing the boy.
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday,
She hides the bruises with linen and lace.
Subconsciously, Harry pulled his overly large hand-me-down sleeves over his arm which exposed a beefy hand print.
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask,
Its hard to see the pain behind the mask.
Bearing the burden of a secret storm,
Sometimes she wishes she was never born.
Harry smiled softly, he knew how that felt. To wish one was never born...
Through the wind and the rain,
She stands hard as a stone,
In a world that she can't rise above,
But her dreams give her wings,
Harry thought about his dreams about being taken away to a relative who wanted him.
And she flies to a place where she's loved.
Concrete angel.
'Concrete Angel?' mouthed Harry to himself.
Somebody cries in the middle of the night,
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights.
Harry frowned at that sentence. That was what happened to him all the time.
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate,
When morning comes it'll be too late.
Harry stood up, listening closely to each word as they drifted to his tender little ears.
Through the wind and the rain,
She stands hard as a stone,
In a world that she can't rise above,
"But her dreams give her wings,
And she flies to a place where she's loved.
Concrete angel," Harry sang softly to himself along with the beautiful woman. The woman turned to him and began her next verse of the heart-breaking song.
A statue stands in a shaded place.
'A grave?' Harry thought.
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock.
A broken heart that the world forgot.
The woman gently comes over to him and knelt down in front of him, lifting his chin up. Harry noticed it had been down when he first thought of a grave.
She smiles at him.
Through the wind and the rain,
She stands hard as a stone,
Harry joins her as the lady lifts him up in to her arms. The two of them sing.
"In a world that she can't rise above,
But her dreams give her wings,
And she flies to a place where she's loved.
Concrete angel," sang Harry, falling in to a sleep of peace...
"Concrete Angel." whispered Harry back in his cupboard on number four Privet Drive. "What?" asked Harry curiously. "Remember for me, whenever you are forced in to the unpleasent, remember that Light can be found in darkness if you look hard enough for it." she said softly, touching his cheek before, right in front of his eyes, she faded away. "I will." promised Harry, alone now at the park. -END-
-FLASHBACK-
"Remember for me Harry," said the woman, after Harry willingly admitted to her about the abuse he suffered at his relatives.
"The light right now is... I'm never alone," whispered Harry in his dark and damp cupboard. He smiled, his cheeks flushed bright red as he hummed the song in his head softly.
"Thankyou.. mum." Harry whispered subconsciously, falling asleep.
That, my friends, is how the boy-who-lived stayed sane as he grew up to the age of ten-years-old, before he met a world entirely different. Yet as he grew up, those words always remained in his heart and the song was always played in thy darkness.