Summary: The story changes all because a mother trusted her gut and called a few friends for answers. Meanwhile Holly and Harry friendship is sum up in a few words.

Note: This takes after Mr. and Mrs Dane.

Mrs. Dane was right something was off about Harry and she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all because Harry was a sweet child, but he was too busy trying to cook or wash the dishes and as much as she tried to get Holly to do those things, she knows no child should be wanting to do them like Harry does. She wasn't a smart woman, but she learnt a long ago to trust her feelings, to trust her gut. After it saved her and her mother all those years ago and she was willing to trust her gut again when she got an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Holly, go take Harry to your room and play with paint or something dear."

"Sure, mum. Come on Harry."

She watched Holly drag Harry away and heard the words. "What about the dishes?"

Something was indeed of and while her husband, went around looking for the street Harry had, given him she contacted her friends. Called everyone and asked them all the same question.

"What, do you know about a boy name Harry? His clothes far too big, his body far too skinny and a lightning bolt scar with the most wonderful green eyes I've ever seen."

It took a while for any of her friends to reply back before she got a few answers.

"Oh, that's the Dursley boy," one said. "He's nothing, but trouble ill in the mind at least that's what Petunia said. Her poor sister died in a car crash with a drunk of a husband and he was in it at the time. The boy was just baby though."

"What else do you know?" she would asked.

"I'm sorry dear, that's all I know, but I think I might know someone who could help. Her name is Mrs. Figg. My son, don't like her much, but he doesn't like cats so he's a bit judgement when the topic comes up. She lives nearby the Dursley and looks after young Harry at least that's what she told a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago."

"Thank you."

She was able to get Mrs. Figg number down and rang her up shortly after. The phone took some time to be answered, but there was a voice on the other end. It sounded of, like someone was terribly sick.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I was wondering…"

"I'm sorry dear, but if you are here for one my cats it might have to wait for a couple of days," Mrs. Figg coughed. "I've got the cold at the moment."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm not here for one of your cats Mrs. Figg. You see I'm Mrs. Dane and my daughter brought home a friend from the park. He says his name is Harry. Do you know anything about him?"

Mrs. Dane told Mrs. Figg all she knew about the kid with the green eyes and lighting bolt scar.

"Yes, that's Harry. I was meant to look after him today, but I didn't want him catching anything so I told Mrs. Dursley I couldn't do it. Why, what seems to be the matter?"

"He's fairly skinny," she said in a low whisper.

Her mind still trying to process how skinny Harry was and she knows that maybe she shouldn't overthink too much about it. Since, some people are just born skinny, but this didn't feel like a natural skinny. It felt as if the poor child wasn't allowed to eat and if he was it was only enough. She understands about healthy meals, but a child that age should at least be given something else to eat. It's all about balance at the end of the day and this felt horribly of balance and she did not at all like this.

"Mrs. Figg?"

There was no answer on the other end, but she knew the woman was there because she could hear heavy breathing and coughing.

"Can I tell you something Mrs. Dane?"

"Of course."

"Just be mindful about this okay, Mrs. Dane because I'm a bit unsure what would happen. But I've warned him. I've told him in my letters, but he never replied."

"Mrs. Figg. I don't think you are making too much sense at the moment. Is it the fever?"

Mrs. Figg coughed.

"No, it isn't. It's the truth you see that boy is Harry Potter and the Dursley do not at all treat him right. Their own son is far too big and gets everything, but young Harry gets nothing. I've seen him in the garden pulling weeds all by himself on the hot summer day. While he should be outside playing with friends and having fun."

She knew it.

"He also doesn't get food very much."

She knew it, she knew it, where was her husband she needed him to come back home so they can keep Harry here, where he is safe and happy, and being a child.

"Thank you, Mrs. Figg."

"Not at all. Is that all dear?"

"Yes, that's all. And, just know that Harry just had some soup and a small sandwich. He's currently playing in my daughter room with paint. Which I really should check on."

Mrs. Figg let out a small laugh.

"Oh, don't worry too much about it, Mrs. Dane. I don't think Harry would paint on the wall."

"I'm not worried about Harry painting on the wall Mrs. Figg. He's far too sweet to do that. I'm more worried about my own daughter painting on the wall. Last time she ended up getting paint on the celling and that was after I caught her painting the roses bright yellow."

"Roses?"

"Yes, my daughter a bit odd like that she would paint anything that moves."

"Oh dear, will I will let you go. Lovely speaking to you Mrs. Dane."

"Yes, very lovely speaking to you Mrs. Figg."

The two ladies hang up the phone.

Little did Mrs. Dane know that Holly was indeed playing with pink paint, happily painting the walls with Harry trying to stop her because Harry didn't think that was a good idea.