Author's Note

Wow! I'd love to say I'm speechless, but I can't stop talking about this. Never in my time on this website have I had so many reviews, follows and favourites so fast! Thank you thank you thank you! You guys are amazing! I hope this update will suffice.

However, I'd like to warn you, updates for all my stories may be a bit bumpy for the next while as my GCSEs (exams) are coming up. Also, if anyone is reading either of my Wings of Fire fanfics, I'll be updating both soon.

Chapter 2: No Longer Alone

Miss Lake stared after the boy. That'd been the - actually, she'd lost count of the amount of times he'd missed his homework. She sighed, turning back to her marking. She really hating punishing children. The work didn't take long and soon she found the task of looking over his lines unavoidable. She despised this. Reading 100 lines of "I must do my homework and give it in on time" was so dull! Perhaps she'd just give them a glance...

Miss Lake stared. This wasn't lines, it was a letter. At first, she was angry. Then she became confused. So she began to read.

By the time she'd reached the signature at the end, tears clouded her vision.

"That poor, poor boy," she whispered. It never crossed her mind that he might be lying. Something about the letter's tone, so desperate and pleading, made her believe every word. She wanted to make all his pain go away, to tell him that she was sorry for all he'd suffered and it was going to be okay. She wished with all her heart that she could take back all those stupid detentions. Why hadn't she noticed and helped sooner?

Suddenly, she found herself putting pieces to a puzzle she hadn't even known existed. She saw him, so small and skinny for his age, with baggy clothes, a bashed-up bag and glasses that clearly needed replacing 3 years ago. With horror, she even recalled walking passed him at lunch, and the way he'd gobbled his food like he hadn't seen a good meal for a week. Perhaps he hadn't, she thought in dismay.

For a few minutes, she simply sat staring blankly at the paper, wondering what to do. She had no experience in this kind of thing. Then she had an idea. Mr Andrews. He'd worked in the school for over 15 years and, had, as he said "seen it all." He also happened to be a good friend. Snatching up the letter, she ran down the corridor.

"Mr Andrews!" She shouted breathlessly, bursting into his rather cluttered classroom. He was at his desk, his golden-brown hair falling into his eyes as he tried to mark homework. He pushed it away, trying to simultaneously adjust his glasses.

"Elizabeth," he said, surprised. "You know the kids are gone, you..." he trailed off, sitting up straight. "What's happened?" He pulled up a chair, pushing aside his paperwork.

"Just read this," she said, pressing the letter into his hand. For a few seconds, his just read. Then his face turned grim.

"When did he give you this?" His voice was quiet.

"Just now," Miss Lake replied. "Michael, what do we do?"

Mr Andrews wasn't listening. "I had Harry in my class for a year. Nice child. I always liked him, but I never guessed..." He trailed off.

"I know. Neither did I. But what do we do?"

He seemed to come back to reality. "I'm not sure actually," he answered, looking worried. "Usually, we'd report it to the member of staff in charge of such affairs but she's sick."

"Are you serious?" Miss Lake exploded.

"Isn't there someone who stands in for her? That's just stupid."

"You're preaching to the choir. And no, there isn't. In normal circumstances, we'd report it to her and she'd tell the authorities. We also need to inform the headmistress, but she's also not in."

"Can they report this?" Miss Lake asked. "I mean, would it be enough evidence?"

"Yes," Mr Andrews said gravely. "They'd want to carry out an investigation at least."

Miss Lake nodded. "I suppose. But what the heck are we going to do?" She groaned. "I can't bare to leave this, even for a day."

Mr Andrews nodded. "One of us has to make the call."

"I guess so," Miss Lake said.

"It should be you. You're his teacher," Mr Andrews continued.

"Me? But I've never done anything like this!" she argued, horrified.

"There's a first time for everything," Mr Andrews pointed out. "Come on. I have a phone we can use." He lifted a pile of papers away, revealing it.

Miss Lake took a deep breath and dialed the number for social services.

"Hello," said a female voice.

"Hello. I I'm Elizabeth Lake, I teach at St Grogory's Primary School. I'm calling to report a case of child abuse." There, she'd said it.

The woman was calm. "What kind?"

For a second, Miss Lake was confused. Then she realised. "Emotional and also neglect," she responded.

There was the sound of a pen on paper. "Child's name?"

"Harry James Potter," she replied, still nervous. Was she doing this right?

"Names of guardians?"

"Vernon and Petunia Dursley," she said, growing in confidence. "They're his aunt and uncle. He's an orphan."

There was more scribbling on the other end.

"What class?"

"Year four."

"Address?"

"Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whingeing."

"Have you seen this treatment firsthand?"

"No. I heard about it in a letter the child wrote to me."

"We'll send someone over as soon as possible to examine this document. Would tomorrow be convenient? Perhaps they could also meet the boy."

"Yes, yes that would be fine,"

"Okay then. Thank you for your call." The woman hung up. Miss Lake sat back, relieved. She wished they could've gotten this sorted out today, but she knew that wasn't possible.

"They'll come as soon as they can," Mr Andrews said consolingly, sensing her thoughts. "And meanwhile, we'll work out how to make life better for Harry while they look into things."

Harry waited until everyone else had gone past before making his way into the playground. He'd spent the last night tossing and turning, wondering whether she'd read his letter, and if she had, did she believe him? Would she send yet another note home to the Dursleys, cataloguing another of his alleged crimes? Was he in for the punishment of a lifetime?

Suddenly he spotted Dudley and, to his horror, his entire gang not far behind. He ran, charging past his classmates and dashing through the door. He sprinted down the corridor, finally finding himself where he always did, in the toilets. Harry dived into a cubicle and sat down, heart pounding. A few minutes later, he heard footsteps. Holding his breath, he wondered if he could squeeze behind the toilet. Then he heard a voice.

"Harry?" It was Miss Lake! "Are you in here?"

"Oh no! I'm really in for it!" he thought, panicked.

As if she could read his mind, Miss Lake spoke again. "Harry, it's okay. I'm not going to shout at you. I promise. Would you mind maybe coming out though, as I'm blocking the door." Her voice was gentle. Harry hesitated. Well, if she was lying, it was going to happen anyway.

He opened the door and walked over to her.

"I saw you running from your cousin and I followed," she explained.

"Harry, I read your letter."

Harry's heart stopped. She had? "You did?" He asked nervously.

"Yes. And I believe you."

Harry gasped. Suddenly, he began to feel a little hopeful. "You do? Really?"

She nodded. "I called social services. They're the people who're going to help you."

Harry was speechless. He had hoped with all his heart of course, but he'd never thought it'd actually work. He felt as if his heart was soaring to the moon. Tears poured down his cheeks.

"Will they, will they… take me away from them?" he choked.

"I believe so," Miss Lake said.

Suddenly, Harry threw his arms around her. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He gasped. And, forgetting and frankly not caring about rules, she hugged him tight.