A CHILD'S CALL

A Harry Potter fan fiction story by Porcelain American Princess

Summary

8 Year old Harry Potter is fed up with the Dursleys' mistreatment and, with no one to turn to, writes a letter to his teacher, changing his life forever.

Disclaimer

I know all of you probably know this, as this website is called , but I'm going to say it anyway: I don't own the Harry Potter world. The person who does own Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1: The Letter

It was a normal day in St Grogory's Primary School. Yet just because it was ordinary, that didn't mean it'd been good. First, Harry had to tell his teacher that he once more hadn't done his homework, but couldn't admit that this was because of the copious amount of chores he'd been given yesterday. Therefore, he had another detention later. Just to add insult to injury, somehow his cousin had, for once, scraped an A in his homework. His teacher had given him a look that clearly said:

"There. See what you could do if you'd only try? This could easily be you right now?"

Which wasn't all that encouraging. Then, at break, Dudley's gang had stolen his snack, poured it over his head and chased him all around the playground until he'd finally managed to escape to the toilets. As he couldn't leave without risking a bashed-in skull, and no one would dare do him a kindness, Harry had yet again gone hungry.

Now, they were sitting in the hall, waiting for some special guest. To be honest, Harry wasn't looking forward to it. The last visitor had been a dentist, who'd spent the entire half hour saying "brush your teeth" in different ways. He was more focused on how he was going to get through the day. For him, there was not ray of hope anywhere. When he got home, there'd be more chores and no supper because he was still being punished for talking to a little snake at the park. The Dursleys had been particularly narked about that one. After locking him in his cupboard for two weeks, they'd still insisted on another week of no dinner. Although Harry often snuck out of his cupboard at night to eat, he could only have a little. An orange here, an apple there, and that wasn't enough to make the constant hunger go away. He sighed. There was nothing but anger, loneliness, hurt, hunger and exhaustion to look forward to, which, quite frankly was basically how he felt right now. So in short, nothing would change for him.

"Good morning everyone," A woman said. Her brown hair was pulled into a bun, and she was still wearing a thick blue winter coat even though it was warm inside.

"Before I begin. I want to ask you a question. You don't have to answer out loud. When was the last time that you just needed to talk to someone? Maybe you were feeling sad? Lonely? Angry?"

Harry almost laughed. Of course he had! But what did that matter? There was no one to talk to. He didn't have any friends or relatives besides the Dursleys, and they were no help, owing to the fact they were usually the cause of his unhappiness.

"So then ask yourself this. What did you do? Did you talk to someone? If so, who? Or maybe did you just keep it inside? Again, you don't need to tell me."

Harry wondered whether the Dursleys would go out this weekend, and if he'd be lucky and they'd leave him on his own again. Maybe he could catch up on all that missed homework. Then, he could play with Dudley's toys and watch TV. And of course, eat. Harry tried to recall the last time he'd had a square meal that wasn't a school dinner.

"Okay. Sorry, I'm asking you a lot of questions aren't I?"

There was a little laughter from the children.

The woman smiled. "You see, I'm Mrs Down and I'm a psychologist. That's someone who helps people with problems, like depression and trauma. Who knows what trauma is?"

Harry wasn't listening. He was trying to inch away from some boy, probably Dudley, who was attempting to put something likely a bug down his neck. A girl put her hand up.

"It's when something really bad has happened to you and you freak out," She said.

"Sort of, yes," Mrs Down said.

"I work with kids just like you, though other psychologists work with adults. But you don't have to come to me if you need help, though you certainly can talk to your parents and get them to hook you up with someone like me. However, if you don't feel comfortable doing that, there are plenty of people you can talk to instead. Friends, family and even teachers. I know they'd be glad to help. Just remember, don't keep it inside."

Harry sat up, allowing Dudley to slip a spider down his neck, but he didn't care. Teachers? He'd never thought of that. They were such distant people. People who always took Dudley's side. Would they listen to him? Doubtful. But who else did he have to turn to? He knew the answer to that question already. No one. No one cared enough to listen. It was either this or nothing. What was the worst that could happen? Harry grimaced. He didn't want to contemplate what horrible punishment his relatives would surely and quite happily dole out. It wasn't worth the risk.

"Or is it?" A little voice in his head argued.

"If it works, you could get out of there forever. You could have a home, just like other kids. Get three meals a day, proper clothes and a bedroom. You'd never be locked in a cupboard again, or be beaten up by Dudley."

It was very tempting. Perhaps, just maybe, the reward would be greater than the risk?

The woman was still speaking, but Harry wasn't paying attention. He was too busy planning. He immediate ruled out talking to his teacher directly. He was too scared, and anyway, she was inclined to tell him she was too busy or just not listen. Perhaps he could send her a letter? He could write it in lunchtime and put it on her desk at the end of the day. Best of all, it would be at the end of detention, so no one would be around to think he was weird.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Harry got to his feet and made for the door. He needed to find a place to do this. The toilets would just have to do. Not now though, it was time for lunch. However, as he followed the other kids out into the playground, planning to dash inside as soon as possible, he heard a shout.

"Potter!"

Uh oh. He'd forgotten Dudley would be mad because he'd ignored the spider. Not that he ever bypassed a chance to beat his cousin up anyway. He wasn't alone either. He had Denis and Malcolm with him. Harry ran for his life. Past the swings, through a group of girls, shouting "sorry", as he darted past, behind the slide, around the monkey bars and behind the bins. He stopped, heart pounding, hoping against hope he wouldn't be spotted and that this wouldn't end up like the last time, when he'd somehow managed to end up on top of the school kitchens. He heard the sound of running feet.

"Potter!" Came Dudley's voice. "We know you're here somewhere!" He stopped in front of the bins. Harry held his breath.

"Probably in the toilets crying his eyes out," Denis pointed out. There was a snigger.

"You're right," said Dudley. They left.

"Thank goodness I didn't try there," Harry thought, breathing out slowly. However, it wasn't safe to come out yet, and he couldn't write from here. Harry almost burst into tears. His one hope was gone. Then he perked up. Did he dare? He took a deep breath. It'd be a risk, but if all failed, what would he have to loose anyway? He'd do it.

"Right class, you can pack up. Except for you Harry, wait there please," said Miss Lake. Finally. Harry pulled out a piece of paper. There was a snigger from several other children. They all ran off happily, chattering and teasing each other, making plans to meet up, telling each other what they'd be doing now and moaning about homework. Harry sighed, his heart aching for the 1,000th time. He never got to join in this kind of thing, even when he didn't have detention, Dudley made sure of it. The only one who paused was Dudley.

"I'll see you later," he hissed.

Harry shivered. Mental note, as soon as he got in, hide. Quick. When everyone was gone, miss Lake turned to him.

"Write this 100 times."

She wrote a sentence on the blackboard.

"I much do my homework and give it in on time."

Harry sighed. It was short, so he wouldn't have much time.

"Okay," He said, reaching for a pencil. Miss Lake sat down at her desk with a pile of marking. Harry began.

"Dear Miss Lake

I know you expect 100 lines, so I apologise for that. I would've done this during lunch, but I had to hide from some bullies behind the bins. My cousin actually. He beats me up a lot. But I won't say sorry for not doing my homework, because it wasn't my fault. You see, my aunt and uncle make me do all kinds of chores, even though Dudley doesn't do any, long before and after school. Cleaning, laundry, cooking, taking out the rubbish, getting the post, gardening, tidying, you name it, I've done it for them. People say they love me, that I should be grateful. But I'm not, because they don't. I know they love Dudley because they hug and kiss him, feed him lots of sweets, chocolate, cookies, cakes, big macs, chips and pizza, all the things I never get. They give him loads of presents too, toys, games, clothes, books, though he never reads. But I've never gotten a single gift from them. The only clothes I have belonged to Dudley. The only toys I own are things I found when I was tidying that were broken and I knew he wouldn't miss. I hope it's not stealing. I just did it because I have nothing and I knew he wouldn't care.

I don't even have a proper bedroom. I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. It doesn't have a carpet, it has dust. There's no window, there's just a lock on the door. Dudley has two bedrooms, one for him and one for all the stuff that doesn't fit in the first one, mostly broken toys.

Please listen. I don't have a family who love me. I live with people who treat me like a servant. I don't get enough to eat. Right now, I'm living on school dinners and small things like fruit I take from the kitchen at night. I'm sorry if it's wrong, but I need to survive. They dress me in rags. They lock me in my cupboard for weeks at a time, alone in the dark. Please believe me. I'm telling the truth. Please, I'm begging you, if there's anything you can do, do it quick. I can't go on like this.

Yours sincerely, Harry Potter"

Hands shaking and with tears in his eyes, harry dropped his pencil and folded the paper.

"Finished!" He said, his voice a little shaky.

"Good. Just bring it over," Miss Lake replied, not looking up from her marking.

"You can go."

"Thank you," Harry said.

He pulled on his bag, which was falling to bits, and placed the paper on her desk. Well, it was done now. If she believed him and decided to help, he may have just escaped the Dursleys forever. If not, he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. Either way, he'd find out soon, but not now. He walked quickly, eager to get away. Once he was out of the classroom he found he was running and out of breath.

Harry knew it was unlikely this would make any difference. He knew that he'd go to bed hungry tonight, and that there was nothing but chores and punches from his cousin waiting for him at home. Yet somehow, in a way he couldn't explain, he felt better.