Disclaimer: I'm fifteen years old, and I live with my mother. You thinkIown Harry Potter? Guess I should feel honored. The poem isn't mine either. I have no idea who wrote it. It's a Norwegian poem, and all I own is the fact that it says "he" and not "she", and that it says "Harry" And not "Amy". It was also I who translated the thing.

Title: Little Harry

Rating: T

Genre: Tragedy

Pairing: None

Warning: Character's Death

AU. No Magic. Harry Potter starts 1st grade one week later than everyone else. Going through the years with no friends can be hard on a child. The harassment seems to have no end. What's a little boy to do? Oneshot.

Extra: Based on the Norwegian poem "Little Amy". Also, due to the fact that this is taken from a Norwegian poem, and because I myself am Norwegian, the school system here is like that of a Norwegian one. This might also be because I'm lazy and won't bother to do some research on British schools... But hey, if American authors can get away with making a fanfiction with an American school system, I don't see why I can't get away with this, right? Don't worry though, it's not so focused on the school system, so you might not even notice.

Norwegian pronunciation: If you want to know how Norwegian sounds like, and how to pronounce the poem, check here norskklassen. /

Remember to remove the spaces people!

Important:This story is also dedicated too all those that has at some point during their life, experienced any type of bullying, whether it's through isolation, beatings, name-calling or any other sort of harassment. If you do know anyone being bullied in any way, please help them. You never know when he/she reaches their breaking point, and by then, it'll be too late.

This is also now dedicated to a reviewer, Serious Fan, due to her hardships earlier in her life for starting half a year too late.


Alt var glede den første skoledagen.
Vi var spente, ett skritt nærmere den voksne verden.
Vi ble ropt, en etter en.
Stolte foreldre sto å så på.

Hvor var du da. lille Harry?


Everything looked bright the first day of school.
We were excited, one step closer to the adult world.
We were called up, one after the other.
Proud parents by our side, watching.

Where were you then, Little Harry?


Slowly, but surely, the classroom filled with children.

These children were going to start first grade. And with them, were their parents. The parents lined up at the wall, and talked amongst themselves, as they watched their children interact between themselves. They watched with pride in their eyes as their children gained new friends among their classmates. You could already see the bonds of friendship forming in between the children.

"I can't believe my little boy is already starting school... Imagine, my youngest son." A slightly short, plump woman with red hair muttered. Her voice filled with pride.

"Yes, it is rather hard to believe that the children grow up so fast, isn't it?" A woman with brown hair and brown eyes smiled at the red-headed woman.

"Yes, indeed! Oh, and where are my manners... I'm Molly. Molly Weasley." The red-head smiled "And that," She pointed to a red headed boy that was slightly taller then the rest, "is my son. Ronald. He's my youngest son. I've got a daughter that's younger then him by a year and five other boys that are older." Molly smiled.

The brown haired woman smiled at the other's enthusiasm. "I'm Jane Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you, Molly. I only have one daughter I'm afraid..." She pointed at a small girl with bushy brown hair. "That's her. Her name's Hermione. She's very intelligent for her age." Jane smiled proudly at her daughter. The two women continued to chat on about the children, and everything else that came to their minds.

A stern woman with her hair pulled back in a bun clapped her hands loudly. "Can I have your attention? Good. Thank you. We're going to take roll call now. So please, step up here when I call you. One by one the children were called up. It was eighteen young first year students that had started Hogwarts Primary School. The parents were watching, proud smiles on their faces.

Their children were growing up.

I remember that day, vaguely. What I just told you now was what my mother told me. Why weren't you there that day Harry? So much would've been different if you where there...


Etter en uke kom det en ny gutt, vi så han nesten ikke.
Vi måtte være snille mot ham, han hadde ingen foreldre.
Det er for sent å begynne etter en uke, da får du ingen venner da.

Hva drev du med, lille Harry?


After a week, a new boy joined the class, we hardly saw him.
We had to be nice to him, He had no parents.
It's too late to start after the first week, you won't get friends then.

What were you doing, Little Harry?


The first week passed, and nothing had really happened that was out of the ordinary. We had already got divided into groups of friends that played at school, and visited each other after. But then, when the first week had passed, and a new one started, something changed. Of course, no one really noticed what had changed until the teacher came into the classroom. It was then that she introduced us to you. You had green eyes and wore round glasses on your nose. Your hair was black and messy.

You were much smaller then the rest of us. You looked like you couldn't be more then four. We started to snicker at you, and whispered among ourselves. I remember the teacher sending us a stern look. We had to be nice to you, she said. Your parents had died in a car crash, when you were only a year old. A lightning bolt shaped scar on your forehead was the only evidence that you had ever been in a car crash.

Of course, by then you had started too late. We had already started to go into certain groups. There was room for no one else. None of us wanted to play with you. None of us did play with you. You gained no friends that day. You were completely alone, sitting at your desk, quietly. You didn't complain; you just sat there.

I wonder what you were doing, what you were thinking, when you sat at that small desk, all by yourself.


Årene gikk.
Vi ble sterkere: Du ble svakere.
Vi ble til gjenger som gikk sammen til skolen, og var hjemme hos hverandre etterpå.

Var du ikke ensom, Lille Harry?


The years passed by.
We grew stronger: You grew weaker.
We became groups that went together to school, and visited each other after.

Weren't you lonely, Little Harry?


The years flew by, and nothing really changed. You didn't gain any friends the day you started at our school, and you didn't gain any friends later either. You were completely alone. We started to laugh at you a little more. But it never seemed to crush your facade of calm coolness. You never complained to the teacher. Never.

The groups that we had gotten into in first grade were still the same. But now we were tighter. None were to ruin our close friendships. No one was to be included. We kept to ourselves.

I wonder how you managed. I wonder how lonely you really were.


Jeg husker et selskap i 4 klasse.
Alle var bedt, du også
Vi kledde oss opp i de peneste klærne
Vi måtte le da du kom i dine.
Vi spiste kaker og lo, du smilte... Kanskje.
Før vi skulle gå, ville vi ha en morsom lek.
Det var min idè, du ble valgt ut.
Du fikk vasket håret i klissete cola.
Vi lo, du gråt.

Kom det tårer, Lille Harry?


I remember a party in 4th grade.
Everyone was invited, including you.
We wore our nicest clothing.
We had to laugh when you came in yours.
We ate cakes and laughed, you smiled...Maybe.
Before we were going to leave, we wanted to play a funny game.
It was my idea; you were chosen to be the victim.
You got your hair washed in sticky coke.
We laughed, you cried.

Came it tears, Little Harry?


In fourth grade, Draco Malfoy had a birthday party. Everyone, including you, Harry, was invited. Do you remember it? I remember being so proud of my fine clothing. My family wasn't rich like the Malfoys, but my parents had bought that clothing especially for that day because I was going to Draco's birthday. I remember all of us laughing when you came in your ragged clothing. They looked like most of your clothing did. They were way too big for your small body. The only thing making them better then your usual ones was that they weren't horribly torn.

After a while, we sat down at the table, eating a lot of cake and candy. I remember you taking a small piece of cake. That was all you ate. Why? Why did you eat so little? I remember that we talked about a lot of things, and laughing. We laughed a lot. After all, we were small kids that were high on sugar. We laughed at every little thing. If my memory is correct, then you smiled. It was a very small smile.

It was also the first time I ever saw you smile.

We had such great fun. I remember that it was the best night I'd had for a long time. Then, being the sugar high kid I was, I wanted to play one last game before we were to leave. I said that we could do something funny. I said that we could do it on you. We got some of the remaining coke, and filled a casket with it. Then we pushed you down on your knees, and washed your black hair in it. I'll never forget how we laughed, thinking it to be so funny, while you had thick tears running down your cheeks.

However, no sobs escaped your lips. No crying sound was emitted from you. You just sat there, quietly crying, accepting what we did to you. Perhaps you hoped that if you let us do this, we

would accept you?


Du var ikke så smart, hadde mange feil.
Julen kom og julen gikk.
Men først skulle vi ha julespill på skolen.
Josef, Maria Og Jesus.
Du var Jesus-barnet i krybben.
Jeg var Maria. Vi kløp og klorte deg.
Selv under forestillingen plaget vi deg.
Du var Jesus-barnet det uskyldige.

Hva tenkte du da, lille Harry?


You weren't that intelligent, you made many mistakes.
Christmas came and Christmas left.
But first, we were going to have a Christmas play at school.
Joseph, Mary and Jesus.
You were the Jesus-child in the crib.
I was Joseph. We pinched and scratched you.
Even under the show, we bullied you.
You were the Jesus-child, the innocent.

What did you think then, Little Harry?


I remember when Christmas came. I was looking forward to it so much! I had a very huge family, so I got a lot of presents each year. It was great. I loved that time of the year, and I still do. At school, before Christmas Holiday started, we decided to have a Christmas play for our families. The teacher decided who was to play which roles. I was to be Joseph, and you were to be the Jesus child. I remember that Hermione Granger played the role as Jesus's mother, Mary. Hermione was my best friend, and I'd already developed quite a crush on her.

When the show started, we played the play quite well for being in fifth grade. Everyone thought it was great! I remember my mom complimenting me on my performance for two weeks after. I got an extra present from my parents as a reward. I doubt I'd have gotten that extra present if anyone had noticed what we did to you during the play. The part I remember most about the performance was how we constantly pinched and scratched you, how we hit and kicked you during the whole performance. Even while our parents and siblings watched, we bullied you without anyone noticing. I find it very ironic now that you were the Innocent Jesus-child. It was a mockery of the Christian religion, of my religion, to treat you like that.

And I find myself wondering whether you saw the irony in that as well? Did you wonder why we mocked you, even when you were playing the role of Jesus?


Jeg husker en dag.
Vi skulle ta med gamle familieting og fortelle om dem i klassen.
Jeg hadde med bestefars tresko.
Du hadde en nydelig dukke. Den var av porselen med silke kjole og gullhår.
Den var din oldemors.
Den var for fin.
Vi tok den og knuste hodet, vi badet den i søla.
Reiv i klærne og klippet av håret.
Vi ødela den helt.
Vi ødela en bit av deg.

Kan du tilgi, lille Harry?


I remember one day.
We were going to take with us old family objects and tell about them in class.
I had my grandfather's tree shoe.
Youhad a beautiful doll. It was made of porcelain with a silk dress and golden hair.
It belonged to your great grandmother.
It was too pretty.
We took it and crushed the head, bathed it in a puddle.
Tore the clothes and cut off the hair.
We completely ruined it.
We destroyed a piece of you...

Can you forgive, Little Harry?


One day in sixth grade, we were asked to bring an old family object. I was very proud of my grandfather's three shoe. It was very well made. I loved it. I was the one that asked if I could bring it. And my grandfather allowed me to! I was thrilled. And of course... then you came. You had brought something that had belonged to your great grandmother. Your great grandmother that had died before you were born, you said. I wonder, did you know anyone in your family?

All the girls ogled at it. And I know that I wasn't the only boy who was very jealous of you at that moment. After all, we wanted the girls to stare at our things to. We wanted their attention. I remember one girl touching it, exclaiming that it was made of porcelain. They seemed so impressed. And when Hermione walked over there as well, I could feel my blood starting to boil. So I did what I usually did when I got mad at you. I talked to the guys, and got them to help me. We ripped the doll out of your hands, and ran out of the door.

I can still hear your small, light footsteps as you came running after us. You were screaming at us to give it back. I was ripping the silky clothes off the doll as I ran. I screamed that boys don't play with dolls. I mocked you, even as we were running away from you. I threw the clothes over my shoulder. I could hear you sobbing behind me. I laughed. I ripped some of the golden curls off the dolls head. We were now outside of the school building. We ran towards a puddle. I continued to rip out the golden locks. Every time I threw another lock over my shoulder, I could hear another sob escaping your lips.

As soon as we reached the puddle, I threw your doll in it. I started to hit it against the ground under the puddle. You had stopped running. You were just behind us. I remember you falling to your knees. No longer did I hear sobs racing through your body. But you were still crying, weren't you? As I hit the doll repeatedly underneath the puddle, the doll's head started to crack. I started to hit it harder. Only when I had completely destroyed the head, did I stop. I then threw the doll in front of you. The head was nearly completely gone. All the pieces were in the puddle. You cradled the small doll against your chest, rocking back and forth. We snickered at you, and walked away.

Did you ever forgive me, Harry? Did you ever forgive me for ruining such a beautiful memoir? One of the very few you properly had left of your family? Did you ever forgive any of us?


Vi fikk nye venner.
Men du var der fortsatt, som en skygge.
Vi truet deg, til og fra skolen sparket vi deg.
Til jul engang hadde du fått en ny penn.
Jeg tok den, jeg har den ennå.
Den var av god kvalitet så den skriver fortsatt.

Hva skriver du med, lille Harry?


Junior High School.
We made new friends.
But you were still there. Like a shadow.
We threatened you; we kicked you on the way to and from school.
One time you got a pen for Christmas.
I took it, and I still have it.
It was of good quality, so it still writes.

What do you write with, Little Harry?


And then we started Junior High. I remember that I started hanging out a lot with a guy named Dean Thomas at that time. Everyone was gaining new friends. Everyone but you, that is. You were still walking around on your own. No one cared. Not even the teachers took notice of you. You were completely abandoned. This was also the time when the bullying went up a notch. We started to threaten you with all sorts of things. We started to really beat you up, and threatened that we would kill you if you ever told.

That was just the way things were. We always abused you. We hit you, kicked you, pushed you, and stole from you. It didn't matter. As long as we could hurt you in some way, we didn't care what the methods were. After Christmas at the first year, you had gotten yourself a pen. It was quite a nice pen. And I'd used up all the ink in mine, so I could use a new one. So I took yours. That was always my solution to everything. My family was poor you see. So I didn't want them to waste extra money on a pen for me. So why not take yours?

I still have it you know. I guess it must have been quite an expensive pen, since it was of such good quality.

So, who was it? Who bought it to you? Were they mad when you told them you lost it? Because I'm sure that's what you told them. You never did tell anyone what we did to you. So, what did you write with Harry? Now that I stole your pen, what did you use to write with? I wonder...


Jeg husker en gang i åtene klasse, noen stjal jakka mi.
Jeg så hvem det var, to gutter fra første.
Jeg gråt, den var ny og innmari dyr.
Jeg gikk nedover koridorene, egentlig var det vel time, men jeg gråt.
Helt i enden traff jeg deg.
Jeg hulket.
Du kom bort til meg og spurte forsiktig hva det var.
Jeg fortalte deg gråtende alt, du trøstet meg med få ord.
Jeg gråt inntil din magre kropp.

Hvorfor var du så snill, lille Harry?


I remember, one time in eight grade, someone stole my jacket.
I saw who it was, two boys from 1st grade.
I cried, it was new and very expensive.
Walking down the corridor, it was really class at the time, but I was crying.
At the end, I met you.
I sobbed.
You came over to me, and carefully asked what was wrong.
I cried while I told you everything, you comforted me with few words.
I cried against your skinny body.

Why were you so kind, Little Harry?


When we were in eighth grade, I remember feeling like I was at the top of the world. I was an adult now. At least, in my eyes I was. The bullying of you never ceased, no, quite the opposite. It was worse then ever. I remember that.

But one day, after class I found my jacket gone. I saw two boys running out of the hallway, carrying the jacket that I had received for my birthday. My family wasn't rich, so my mother had saved up for it for weeks. I tried to chase after them, but there was no hope. They were long gone before I reached the end of the corridor.

I just continued to walk back and forth at the end of the hallway. I knew that recess was over, but I didn't care. I remember that I had started crying. I was so down. I couldn't imagine going home, telling my mother that someone had stolen the expensive jacket she had bought me. She would be so mad... And I hated it when my mother got mad at me.

But then, you came. Just looking at you, I couldn't contain myself. I remember the sobs that shook my frame. Carefully, with your normal soft, almost soundless steps, you approached me. And ever so gently, you asked what was wrong. Your kind words and concern broke me completely.

I remember that I spilled everything, how those boys had stolen my jacket, even how my mother had saved up to get it for me for my birthday. You pulled me against you, and let me cry against your bony chest. Sometimes you would whisper soft words of nothingness to comfort me. They weren't many, but they were there, comforting me, eventually causing my tears to dry up and my sobs to soften and slowly disappear like they were never there.

I didn't understand then, and I understand even less now, sweet Harry. How could you be so gentle? How could you comfort meof all people? After everything I had said to you... Despite all the horrible things I did to you... Why were you still so kind, Harry?


Vi gikk inn i neste time, du litt etter meg.
For jeg ville jo ikke at det skulle se ut som vi var sammen.
Da skoledagen var slutt, tok vi deg.
Alt det myke hadde jeg glemt.
Vi kloret deg.
Jeg beskyldte deg til og med for å ha tatt jakka mi.
Så jeg tok din; den var ikke like fin som min, men den var OK.

Frøs du da, lille Harry?


We went to the next class, you came a little after me.
I didn't want it to look like we were friends.
When the school day ended, we took you.
All the softness, I had forgotten.
We scratched you.
I even accused you of stealing my jacket.
So I took yours; it wasn't as nice as mine, but it was okay.

Did you freeze then, Little Harry?


After I had stopped crying, we hurried over to our class. We were late, but I didn't care. I don't think you cared either. At least if you did, you never said anything. But then again, you never did complain either.

I told you to wait five minutes outside before going in after me. You didn't ask why, and I'm glad you didn't. Though I think you knew. No... I know you knew why I didn't want to go in with you. We both knew that I would never want to be seen being friendly with you. I didn't want anyone thinking we were friends. So you simply nodded. As I walked in and sat at my desk, giving an excuse to the teacher, I was afraid that you would come in sooner. But no, exactly five minutes later, you walked in with your own excuse. No one ever suspected a thing. And why would they?

School ended three hours later. We had left you alone all day. I think it was a relief for you. But that relief wouldn't last long. As soon as we had exited the school building, we looked for you. It took us only a few seconds to see your small form among the student body. We came over to you, and practically dragged you behind the school. You didn't scream. You didn't fight. No, you just came along quietly. It was the same as every other time. After all, even if you did scream, no one would come to your rescue. There were no adults outside, and no other pupils cared what happened to you. You knew that, so you just... didn't fight the inevitable.

I didn't care about earlier that day. I pushed away all those soft words you had spoken to me in comfort. I repressed the memories of your thin arms around me in a comforting embrace. I didn't want to remember you that way. We scratched you. We hit you. We kicked you when you fell down. And then, when you were down, bleeding from the scratches we had caused on your face, an eye starting to swell, clutching your stomach that I had kicked three times, I accused you of stealing my jacket.

I actually accused you, the person that had comforted me. I even took your jacket, saying that it would be a nice payment for stealing from me... Sure, it wasn't as nice or as expensive as the one my mom gave me, but I could just tell her that me and a friend of mine swapped clothes for fun. I was sure she wouldn't mind.

After that, we left you alone on the ground. It had started raining, the wind picking up in strength. You had to walk home in a small storm without a jacket. I wonder if that was why you didn't come to school the next day. Did you get ill? How cold were you that day Harry?


Vi hadde om mobbing på skolen, var det nødvendig?
Klassen vår var jo så god, godt miljø og hvertfall ingen mobbing.
Vi hadde prøver, du måtte hjelpe oss.
Vi lagde lapper der du måtte skrivet svaret, ellers...
Du gjorde som vi sa, det hadde du alltid gjort.
Så kom læreren, du ble tatt i juks, bare du.
Du protesterte ikke, fikk straffen, LG som vi skulle hatt.
Det ble mange slike, vi røpte oss aldri.
Du tok imot vår straff.

Husker du da du var Jesus-barnet, lille Harry?


We had talked about bullying at school, but was that necessary?
Our class was so good, a good environment and certainly no bullying.
We had tests, you had to help us.

We made notes where you had to write the answer, or else…
You did what we said, like you always had.
Then the teacher came, and you were caught cheating, only you.
You didn't protest, got the punishment, an F that we should've had.
It became many of those, we never confessed.
You accepted out punishment.

Remember when you were the Jesus child, Little Harry?


One day, during the first lesson, we had a test. A bullying test. You know the kind; where you have to cross in the squares about whether you were bullied or bullying someone else? The teacher was using the rest of the lesson to rant about the wrongness of bulling. Well, that was how it was supposed to be.

The teacher just asked us some questions. We side-tracked a lot; after all, we didn't really needthis. Our class was great, after all. Everyone was friends. We included everyone in what we did. No one was left out. At least, that was how our class seemed to all of our teachers: The model class.

Poor Harry... Not ever the teachers really noticed you, except when something was wrong. That was the only time you were noticed by anyone.

One example of this was a few days later. We had a test, and like always, I hadn't bothered to study. I wasn't the only one that hadn't. My best friends, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan hadn't bothered to either. And why would we? We knew we could just get you to help us. You always did what we told you to, after all. I have to wonder now, did you listen to us in a vain hope that maybe, just maybe, we would someday give you a thank you?

Then, without you noticing, the teacher came. You, only you were caught cheating. You didn't cheat, we all knew that. You didn't need to. No, the only reason you did was because we threatened you like we always did. Even though everyone knew this, no one spoke up. We kept our silence. I still remember the disappointed look the teacher gave you. I still remember his stern voice as he declared to the entire class what your grade would be.

You didn't say anything. You didn't protest. Never have I ever heard a single complaint escape your lips. You simply sat there, accepting our punishment; accepting our F. You didn't deserve it, and you knew that; yet, for some unfathomable reason, you accepted it without as much as a sound of argument.

Sometimes I wonder, did you deep down think you deserved it? Deserved it all, due to some strange reason buried deep inside of your consciousness? Or perhaps you simply were unselfish. You never did seem to think of yourself whatsoever. Which reminds me, do you remember when you were the Jesus Child, Harry?


Vi hadde jo vinter også.
Den var vel den værste for deg.
Jeg husker vinteren i 8, den var litt spesiell.
Jeg var sur på alle, det gikk utover deg.
Hele klassen var med, vi tok tak i hodet ditt, ristet deg og rev av deg jakka.
Hodet ble dyppet i snøen menge ganger.
Vi begravde deg i snøen og kjørte over deg med akebrett.

Så du noe, lille Harry?


We mustn't forget about the winter.
It probably was the worst one for you.
I remember the winter in eighth grade.
I was mad at everyone; I took it out on you.
The whole class participated; we grabbed you head, shook you and tore off your jacket.
You head was dipped in the snow several times.
We buried you under the snow, and drove over you with a toboggan.

Did you see anything, Little Harry?


Winter in seventh grade, I'll never forget that winter. Not only did my great aunt visit that winter, which always get me in the worst of moods, but I also took it out on you. I think that might've been the worst winter that you ever experienced in your life. I never did like my great aunt. And neither did my father. She was always pestering him about work and the likes.

I talked to the whole class. They thought it sounded like great fun. And of course, none of them ever passed up the chance to hurt you. You were just too amusing a victim for any of them to pass up. And so, when food recess arrived, we had a great time. And like always, you were the one to suffer from it. We grabbed your head, and continued to shake you until you were so dizzy, you had problems standing. I remember that me and Dean clung to your jacket as you fell, ripping it off. One of the arms was torn off, and the zipper was completely ruined.

But we didn't stop there. We were laughing, all of us. You had started crying. I still remember how the tears running down your reddening cheeks looked about to freeze to ice. You looked so cold where you lay on the ground. But that wasn't enough for us. We were on a roll, and none of us wanted to stop.

We took an armful of snow and threw it on you. You tried to shake it off, but we were so many, that by the time you had managed to shake off what one person had thrown on you, seven other would throw more snow on top of your shivering body. Even though you were crying, no sound escaped you. It never did.

After a while, all fight in you ceased, and you let us scoff all that snow over you, covering you completely from view. No one could even see that we had disturbed the snow lying there. You stopped struggling because you thought we would be done by then, didn't you? But no, we thought that was why you had stopped, so we started sliding over you, causing the snow to press against you.

Was it dark in there Harry? Could you see the white snow on top of you? Or did you just see blackness, the same kind of blackness that we all see as we close our eyes or turn off all of the lights in the house? Did you see anything at all?


En lærer kom og fant deg, sykehuset neste.
Klassen måtte skrive brev til deg, der du lå.
En av klassekameratene våre hadde besvimt av hodepine i snøen.
Og vi var jo en god klasse, så god-bedring kort og konfekt var en selvfølge.
Men hva tenkte du da du så de skulte truslene i brevene og da du så at alle de beste sjokoladebitene var borte.

Hva tenkte du da, lille Harry?


A teacher arrived and found you, the hospital was next.
The class had to write letters to you, where you lay.
One of our classmates had fainted of a headache in the snow.
And we were a good class, so of course we gave a "Get Well Card" and chocolate, what else could you expect?
But what did you think, when you saw the hidden threats in the letters, and when you noticed that the best chocolate pieces were gone?

What did you think then, Little Harry?


When next recess arrived, you hadn't been in class. None of us were worried, and the teachers figured out you had just decided to skip. They thought you impossible. Did you know that Harry? Did you know that it took two hours of absence, before the teacher decided to look for you?

The teacher found you lying there in the snow. I can still hear the sirens of the ambulance when I close my eyes. You were driven immediately to the hospital. The teacher was so worried. The next day when we arrived at school, we were told to write a get well letter to you, one letter each. We were told that you had fainted of a headache in the snow. We all knew why, but we never said anything. I remember feeling annoyed that I had to waste my time, writing a letter to you,even though it was my fault that you were in the hospital in the first place.

Of course, being the perfect model class and wonderful classmates that we were, we wrote you the get better cards. We even bought you a box of confetti to go with it. The teacher was so proud of us, and she didn't hesitate to tell us so either. But we were ourselves even then, and we would never get caught red-handed being kind to you of all people.

I wished back then that I could've seen your reaction as you opened those letters, and saw those threats, where we dared you to tell what we had done. I wished I could've seen your reaction as you opened the already opened box of confetti, and saw that there were only a few chocolates left, the ones that no one in our class liked. What I want to know now is what went through your mind when you saw all those things. Was that when those thoughts started? Or had they started a long time ago?


Du kom på skolen igjen.
Litt stillere enn før, litt reddere enn før?
Vi tok skolebøkene dine,du gjorde jo alltid lekser, så nå slapp vi det også.
Karakterene dine sank vel?

Hva sa de hjemme da, lille Harry?


You came back to school again.
A little more quiet then before, a little more scared then before?
We took your school books; you always did homework, so now we didn't have to do that anymore either.
Your grades probably sank, didn't they?

What did they say at home, Little Harry?


It took two weeks before I saw you at school again. For some reason, you seemed even smaller than before you went to the hospital. Didn't you eat properly at the hospital? Or were the portions you got just smaller then what you had at home?

You might have spoken little before, but now it was even more evident. You never spoke more then a few sentences a day. And that was only when the teacher asked you a question, which wasn't often. You also avoided us more. You seemed so scared, so small- so innocent and terrified. We didn't do anything at first. Nothing; and that seemed to scare you more than anything else.

A week after your return, we struck again. You didn't find your schoolbooks in your shelf one day. Of course you didn't find them in your shelf. They were all in my bag. You were pretty much finished with all of your homework, since you never did anything else then work, you never had anything else to do. So now I wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. And neither did my friends. In our eyes, it was the most brilliant thing we had come up with until now.

How did they react at home, when teachers sent notes about you not doing your homework? How did they react at home, when they discovered how quickly your grades sunk? How was your home life at this time, Harry?


Det ble sommer, klassen dro på utflukt til stranda.
Du var så spinkel i dine blå badebukser.
Vi svømte og spilte ball i det herlige vannet.
Så tok vi deg..Igjen.
Vi gjorde det for morroskyld.
Du så altfor fredelig ut der du svømte.
Vi hang oss på deg og vi holdt deg under vann.
Du hostet og svelget vann.

Hvorfor skrek du ikke, lille Harry?


Summer came, and the class went on a trip to the beach.
You were so skinny in your blue bathing suit.
We swam and played ball in the wonderful water.
And then we took you... again.
We did it for run.
You looked too peaceful where you swam.
We hung onto you and dragged you under.
You coughed and swallowed water.

Why didn't you scream, Little Harry?


Summer came. We only had a few weeks left of school until summer vacation. The class decided together that it would be fun to take a small outing with the class to the beach one day. I noticed that you smiled a little. Even you were excited for this small trip. Were you hoping that we would leave you alone on such a day?

That day, I remember curling my lips in slight disgust as I saw you. You were so skinny, so very skinny, in your blue boxers. You were practically skin and bones. No meat on you at all. You looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over its bones. I found it disgusting.

For a while, we all ignored your existence. We had so much fun, throwing a ball back and forth in the semi-warm water. It was freezing when you took your first step into it, but we quickly got used to it. We had no care in the world, and for a while, I forgot all about the thin organism that was Harry Potter. I'm sure if someone had mentioned your name at that moment, I would have responded with a "Harry who?"

But then... we got bored. And as you know, when we get bored, you're the one who suffers. We had no reason for it. You just looked so peaceful, swimming calmly in the water, a smile of bliss on your face. We did it only for our own amusement, for fun. I remember that I jumped on your back, and someone held your head under water. We were all clinging to you, dragging you under. You had no chance against us. We were ten, and you were one. I remember hearing coughing noises coursing through your body as you swallowed water, over and over.

I wish I could ask you why you never screamed for help.


Du besvimte i vannet, vi dro deg i land etter håret.
En lærer fikk liv i deg igjen.
Stakkars liten, hun fikk kramper i vannet.

Drømte du, lille Harry?


You fainted in the water; we dragged you to shore by your hair.
A teacher got life in you again.
Poor thing, he got cramps in the water.

Did you dream, Little Harry?


After a while, you fainted. It was Lavender who noticed and remarked on it. If she hadn't, we might have drowned you by accident. I remember laughing as Gregory and Vincent grabbed you by the hair and dragged you to shore. All of us were following, trying our hardest to stifle our snickers and giggles. We all managed to look concerned for your well-being by the time we reached the teacher.

The teacher started to give you mouth to mouth, and push on your small, pale chest. The teacher started to look more and more concerned as time went by. We had been closer to drowning you then we thought. None of us felt remorse, however, and we had to hold back laughter as the teacher put his mouth to yours. However, after a while of CPR, the teacher managed to get life into you again.

You started to cough out water. I remember how weak you looked. You just laid there for a few minutes, blinking at us before standing up, not saying anything to the teacher. The teacher asked us what had happened, and we hesitated for a few seconds before Draco saved us. Poor Harry, his leg cramped while swimming, and it was too deep for him to stand.

I think I should research whether you dream when you lose consciousness. If you do, I wonder what you dreamt about. Did you meet your parents in your sleep maybe? Was that how the thoughts started to take shape?


Sommerferien kom, vi gledet oss.
Du ble glemt i gleden.
Du var vel glad da, gledet deg når vi gledet oss.
Sommerferien skilte våre veier, sommerferiens gleder sto for døren.

Hadde du det gøy, lille Harry?


Summer holiday arrived, and we rejoiced.
You were forgotten in the joy.
I guess you were happy then, happy when we were happy.
Summer holiday separated our paths, the joys of summer vacation stood at the door.

Did you have fun, Little Harry?


Finally, at the end of June we said farewell to our last day of eighth grade. A new year awaited us in two months, and along with it, new adventures and new stories to tell. We were all excited, but what we loved most was vacation. We were thrilled. I remember telling everyone about my upcoming trip to Egypt to visit my oldest brother.

None of us bothered to bully you during the last week of school. When we were happy, we had no aggression to get out. And without any aggression, we had no motivation to bother you. I guess you were happy then. When we were happy, you were left alone. Was it lonely, not being noticed at all?

During the summer holiday, I didn't see you whatsoever. I didn't mind at all. And I doubt you minded much. Did you enjoy your vacation Harry? Not only was it your vacation from school, but was it also your vacation from us, your tormentors?


Skolestart igjen, Du var enda tynnere nå og blekere.
Skoleåret åpnet med blåmerker for deg.
Vi banket deg opp første skoledag.
Omtrent en gang i uka fikk du.
Du ble holdt utenfor, aldri hadde du en venn.
Vi stjal ting fra deg, det vi ville ha, tok vi.

Hvordan hadde du det, lille Harry?


School started again; you were even skinnier now and paler.
The school year opened with bruises for you.
We beat you up the first day of school.
You got it at least once a week.
You were isolated; never did you have a friend.
We stole things from you, what we wanted, we took.

How were you, Little Harry?


The two months passed, and on the 22nd of August we started a new school year. I remember seeing you, smaller then ever before. If it was possible, you were even skinnier and even paler. I remember feeling a shiver run up my spine, and I had to wonder why you were so thin. Why did you never gain any weight? Did you dread school that much?

But my curiosity quickly left me, making room for more cruelty. We beat you up at the first recess, covering you with bruises. Some of us had made friends with some people from other classes during summer vacation, and we knew the people a year underneath us; so this time there were even more people then usual beating you up.

The bullying increased. It was now worse then ever. We beat you up at least once a week. There wasn't a day when you didn't sport multiple bruises across your petite body. And yet, the teachers didn't notice. If anyone else was even slightly bullied, they noticed immediately. But not with you. They ignored you. They didn't want to see.

Even the new students at the school never talked to you. You were completely isolated. No one wanted anything to do with you. We all froze you out completely. You never had a single friend during the school years; and I have to wonder, did you even have any friends that you hung out with after school? Or were you completely alone?

I remember stealing a lot from you during that time. And I wasn't the only one; we all did. If you had something we liked, if you had something we wanted, we took it from you. I remember stealing your shoes and socks once. You had to walk all the way home clad with nothing on your feet. It was winter, -5 degrees C. The ground was covered in snow. Was it cold walking all the way home with your bare feet? I can imagine that you must've had some sort of frost damage when you arrived home.

You must've had it terrible Harry


Intill en dag i Mai.
Vi kom på skolen, vi så deg ikke.
Læreren var blek...Rektor kom inn i klasserommet.
Hun druknet seg i natt.
Klassen ble stille, Samvittigheter mørknet.
Ute var våren i full gang, snart sommer nå.

Du valgte en fin dag å dø på, lille Harry!


Until one day in May...
We came to school, we didn't see you.
The teacher was pale... the headmaster came into the class room.
He drowned himself yesterday night...
The class turned silent, consciences darkened.
Outside the spring was in full bloom, almost summer now.

You chose a nice day to die on, Little Harry!


But then, one day when I got to school, everything changed. I noticed that you weren't there. And that was an oddity in itself. You never missed school unless we had done something to keep you from attending school. I remember shrugging it off, thinking you must've been too afraid or something.

Then the teacher came in. He didn't say anything. He didn't tell us to take up our books; he didn't tell us what we were to do that day. He had nothing to say. All he did, was stand there, ashen pale. Then our Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore entered the room. His expression told us that it was grave news he had come to deliver.

He opened his mouth, the word 'he' escaping his lips before he closed his mouth again. He cleared his voice, squishing his eyes closed, as if it pained him to say this. "Harry Potter drowned himself last night."

I remember the chills running up my spine. I remember the horrible guilty feeling overwhelming me. I remember what flashed in my mind. '' It was like a mantra, repeating itself over and over. It never seemed to end. It was silent. No one said anything. And it made the mantra in my head so much clearer, so much louder. I felt like crying. I felt like drowning myself. For surely, what I had done could never be forgiven, right?

And it was then that I realized... you had never done anything. You were completely innocent. We had tormented you. We had driven you to suicide.We had... ruined you, broken you, and torn you asunder. And as I looked around the classroom, I thought that none of us had the right to be sitting there, breathing. It was all of us that should've been found in the water, dead. Not you. You were innocent. You were pure. We were defiled. We were filthy.

And I realized that our crimes were too many to count. While the only crime you had ever committed was: You started school a week too late.

It was so quiet in the classroom that I could hear the birds outside sing. The flowers had started blooming, the spring was here fully. A thought suddenly hit me, and that was what finally broke me. It caused me to cry, tears slipping down my cheeks. Unlike my normally loud screaming when I was crying, this time it was silent. I cried the way you cried when we did something extremely cruel and/or painful. Silently.

What a perfect day you died on, Harry.


- Letter that Ronald Weasley laid inside the coffin of one Harry James Potter.


A/N: Never, ever again! I used hours translating the freaking poem, and then I had to drag my way into writing this. Never again, I tell you!

I hate translating things! Hate it, hate it, hate it! Gah... At least I didn't have to translate anything from English to Norwegian, because if I had, I'd just blown my head off and be done with it!

Edit: The companion piece to this called Kjære Barn is posted. It is about Harry's death.

Finally, I can post the Beta'ed version! Lykii, thank you so much for betaing it! :D

As you all can clearly see, I've also added the Norwegian version of the poem. Juuuuust because I wanted too. :3