Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Criminal Minds or any of their characters. I do however own this story, I wrote it and I do NOTgive permission for anyone to post it anywhere else. If you want to share it post a link.

Harry staggered out of his cupboard, already magically exhausted from the effort and gratefully used the key in the sideboard to unlock the front door, limping away from the house as quickly as he could. He wondered what the time was but hadn't had the energy to waste walking into the kitchen to see the clock. The streets were dark and deserted but that didn't mean much in a suburb like Little Whinging so sometime between nine in the evening and five in the morning was his best guess. Passing a letter box he dropped in his most recent letter to Spencer, leaning on it for support for a moment and wishing he could find a stick to lean on but the tidy little gardens of the housing estate didn't have any obliging trees big enough. Only little stunted things, it seemed that even trees didn't want to live in west Little Whinging.

Finally he staggered up the steps of the Little Whinging police station, alarming the young constable at the desk. "I'd like to report child abuse and request to be placed into foster care," he said hoarsly.

The constable pushed the button to call for extra assistance and came through to the waiting area to support the child who looked about to fall on the ground. Careful to take note of where he touched the child he led him through into the sickbay area and helped him onto the bed. He spoke briefly to the senior constable who answered his summons for assistance before calling a doctor and crime scene technicians.

"He's seriously injured and he says his uncle did it. He lives with them in Privet Drive," the junior constable reported.

Taking over Senior Constable Jones obtained an address from the now sleeping boys backpack and sent the sent the crime scene techs with backup to asses the house for a possible scene of the assault. "I don't have high hopes for the crime scene not being thoroughly cleaned up by now, the injuries don't look new but he must have been somewhere, look for signs that he was being locked in."

-o0o-

Dear Spencer

Sorry I haven't written for a while but I've been locked up in the cupboard injured for the last four days. For some reason my ability to unlock the cupboard door wasn't working until today. Perhaps I was too injured for it to work or that the power was too busy trying to heal me. That didn't work either, I'm still really hurt and I can barely walk.

I'm on my way to the police station to make a complaint about the Dursleys and to ask to be put into foster care. You were right, I'm not safe at the Dursleys anymore. Vernon knocked me down and kicked me. I could hear my ribs breaking, then he kicked me in the head and I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew I was lying in my cupboard and the back of my head was all sticky with blood and I'd pissed my pants, probably more than once from the smell so I'd been unconscious for quite a while. I tried to heal myself and it didn't work, then I tried to unlock the cupboard since it was dark outside I figured it would be safe but that didn't work either, I just tired myself out and fell asleep and the next think I knew it was day time and I could hear Dudley jumping on the steps over my head. I kept trying to heal myself enough to be able to make a run for it and my breathing got easier but the pain didn't go away, and he must have kicked my legs while I was unconscious because my right knee was so swollen it actually fills Dudley's trousers tightly. I started writing this letter so I could send it to you on my way to get help and kept trying to open the door every time that I knew it was late at night or nobody was home and finally I got it open. So I'm finishing this quickly before I go.

I am afraid to telephone for an ambulance from here. If Vernon were to hear me I would be dead before help arrived. If I could trust someone to call the police or an ambulance for me, I would knock on their door but the police station is closer than the restaurant and I can't trust anyone else. I hope I make it but I guess if I don't someone will find me unconscious on the street and hopefully call an ambulance. I think I'm going to be in hospital for a while but I'll write and let you know how I'm doing when I can.

Your friend

Harry

Spencer read the letter in horror, sorrow and guilt, but once he had time to think about it, he wasn't truly surprised that Vernon had been so violent. He felt that he should have tried harder to get Harry away from his relatives, perhaps even convinced him to go to the police while he was with him in Vegas so he'd be placed somewhere in the area and he could have kept an eye on him.

He paced around his room agitatedly until Ethan grumpily asked him what was wrong. He was so worried about Harry's well-being that it didn't even occur to him until after he started to write back to him that he had no idea where Harry would be living, or when he'd be able to get back to the restaurant to get his letters. Sighing he decided to write anyway, knowing this was more an emotional need to reach out to his best friend than a logical decision. He wondered if Harry would still be in hospital and if so whether the Little Whinging police station would tell him which hospital Harry had been sent to. Collecting his weeks' worth of coffee money, he went down to the payphone and attempted to call them.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed followed or favourited this story for your support.