Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It is owned by J.K. Rowling. The lyrics are Concrete Angel by Martina McBride.

Summary: Harry is abused but everyone who is suspicious or knows about what is going on doesn't do anything. What will happen to Harry? Rated T for character death. LET'S STOP CHILD ABUSE!

A/N: The lyrics are about a girl. The words that aren't in italics are the ones that I've changed to make it fit for a boy. The original lyrics are at the bottom of the page.

Concrete Angel

He walks to school with the lunch he packed

Nobody knows what he's holding back

Wearing the same clotheshe wore yesterday

He hides the bruises with the ill-fitting clothes, oh

Harry crept out of the house silently, clutching his packed lunch; he didn't want to gain his aunt and uncle's attention. Once he had slipped out of the front door and up the garden path Harry could breathe more easily. They couldn't hurt him here. Not where anyone could see. His head was bowed as he walked slowly up the familiar street. There was no need to rush. His aunt and uncle couldn't hurt him here and he had plenty of time before school started. It wasn't as though he had any friends to play with before school either. Harry did his best to ignore the loneliness he felt as a result of the other children's laughter. He tried to ignore the looks the other children sent him. He was an outsider, a freak, and he knew it. Harry saw a mother hug her daughter and he looked away quickly. He wished he was loved. Harry walked into school completely alone, as always.

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask

It's hard to see the pain behind the mask

Bearing the burden of a secret storm

Sometimes he wishes he was never born

It was a hot day so Harry removed his jumper when he sat down in his classroom, revealing the purple, finger-shaped bruises, standing in stark contrast against his pale skin. He saw his teacher pause at his table, seeing the bruises. She hesitated a moment as though she was about to say something but she seemed to decide against it and moved on. Harry knew why, he was a freak. He wasn't worth it. That was why he hadn't told anyone. He deserved every blow he received. His aunt and uncle were just trying to make him into a better person.

Through the wind and the rain he stands hard as a stone

In a world that he can't rise above

But his dreams give him wings and he flies to a place

Where he's loved concrete angel

Harry sat by himself during break time, watching the other children play and have fun. But fun wasn't for him. Fun was for good boys, not freaks like him. Normally Dudley's gang were chasing him but today they had all been kept in so Harry was sitting at an abandoned picnic table. Just then a young girl in his class ran over. She was new and had seen him sitting by himself. Obviously she didn't know what a freak he was or she'd never have come over. She introduced herself, Emily, her name was. Harry liked Emily, she made him laugh. She was a very cheerful girl, always smiling. Harry felt happier than he had in a long time. He hoped Emily would be his friend. He'd never had a friend before.

Somebody cries in the middle of the night

The neighbors hear but they turn out the light

A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate

When morning comes it will be too late

It turned out that Emily had moved into the house next-door to Harry's so that night, Harry snuck into Dudley's second bedroom and opened the window as she opened the window to her bedroom. The two children were laughing and Harry wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. It was because of this that he didn't hear Uncle Vernon walk up the stairs. Harry didn't notice what was going on until Uncle Vernon was opening the door. Harry was startled; he didn't have a chance to hide. Uncle Vernon crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed Harry's arms and started to shake him. Harry looked desperately at Emily who hadn't yet gone away from the window. She made no move to help him. This didn't please Uncle Vernon; he grabbed Harry's jaw and turned Harry's head to face his, screaming at Harry to look at him. Emily was scared. What should she do? The little girl decided that she would wait until morning and phone ChildLine. Emily continued to watch as Harry's uncle dragged him over to the corner of the room. Although she could now only see their shadows, Harry's cries rang clearly through the open windows. Tears were pouring down Emily's face. Morning couldn't come soon enough.

Through the wind and the rain he stands hard as a stone

In a world that he can't rise above

But his dreams give him wings and he flies to a place

Where he's loved concrete angel

It was now only a couple of hours till dawn but Emily couldn't stand it anymore. She hadn't slept at all. Slipping silently from her bed, she tip-toed carefully past her parents room. Emily hadn't told them what she'd seen and heard. Morning was too far away, Emily needed to talk to someone now. She remembered a poster that she had seen at school with the ChildLine number on it. Emily dialled the number and listened for the sound of someone answering the phone. Tears poured down her cheeks again as she told the woman on the other end of the line what had happened earlier that night to Harry. The woman thanked her and told her what a good girl she had been as she phoned 999. A few minutes later, Emily heard the sound of sirens and ran outside to watch as they drew up outside number four. Emily stood behind the yellow tape that had been set up and watched the police and doctors rush in and out until her parents woke up and took her back inside. Instead, Emily peered out of her bedroom window, looking out of the gap between her house and Harry's. Recognising that there was no chance of their daughter getting to sleep, Emily's parents stayed with her and when they saw the battered, broken, bloody corpse of Harry James Potter being carried out of the house they did their best to comfort her.

A statue stands in a shaded place

An angel boy with an upturned face

A name is written on a polished rock

A broken heart that the world forgot

Harry's funeral took place a few weeks later. It was very small. The only people there were Harry and Emily's head teacher, class teacher, Emily's parents and Emily herself. Emily stood in front of the four adults as she stared at the small grave. Harry Potter 1980-1987. His life had been too short. Harry had only been seven years old when he died. Emily blamed herself. Why hadn't she acted sooner? She could have prevented this. Harry must have been lying there for hours before Emily had done anything. Harry had suffered from abuse for six years and yet she couldn't even pick up a phone. Emily knew that she would never be able to forgive herself. She would never stop trying to make up for it. Emily decided that she was going to dedicate the rest of her life to help children like Harry. It wouldn't be enough though. Nothing would ever be enough but at least she could help other children.

Through the wind and the rain he stands hard as a stone

In a world that he can't rise above

But his dreams give him wings and he flies to a place

Where he's loved concrete angel

Emily felt something behind her. She turned around. There was Harry, looking alive and well. He was obviously very happy and he smiled a huge smile at her. Behind him were, Emily presumed, his dead parents. The woman had the same eyes as Harry and the man was almost a clone except for the eyes. Hazel instead of green. They both smiled at her, as though thanking her for what she had done for their son. The son they both loved. It was easy to tell that they loved their son; you could see it in their eyes. Harry stepped forward and gave Emily a hug; she hugged him back, glad that he was happy now. Once they had separated Harry stepped back and his parents gathered him up into their arms. Emily watched as the small, loving family slowly faded. Emily turned back around once they had gone, feeling happier. She was still sad that he had to die but at least he was happy and he was with his parents again. His parents who loved him.

5 children die every day from child abuse in the USA alone. YOU can help stop this!

A/N: If you know of or suspect child abuse than report it. Failure to do so could cost that precious child their life. If you live in the UK then call ChildLine at 0800 11 11, or call the NSPCC at 0808 800 5000, or call the emergency services at 999. If you live in the USA then please call the National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453), or call the emergency services at 911. I'm afraid I don't know what numbers there are available in any other countries but if you live in another country please find out. It could be you that saves a child's life.

She walks to school with the lunch she packed

Nobody knows what she's holding back

Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday

She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask

It's hard to see the pain behind the mask

Bearing the burden of a secret storm

Sometimes she wishes she was never born

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone

In a world that she can't rise above

But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place

Where she's loved concrete angel

Somebody cries in the middle of the night

The neighbors hear but they turn out the light

A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate

When morning comes it will be too late

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone

In a world that she can't rise above

But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place

Where she's loved concrete angel

A statue stands in a shaded place

An angel girl with an upturned face

A name is written on a polished rock

A broken heart that the world forgot

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone

In a world that she can't rise above

But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place

Where she's loved concrete angel