Dear Mummy.

At school age 5

"Good morning class. This sunday is mother day. So today we are making mothers day cards for you to give your mummy's. Lets get started."

Walking around the classroom the teacher noticed Harry Potter was just sitting there, watching the other children.

"Why arnt you making a card like the other children?"

"My mummy's dead"

"Who do you live with?"

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and my cousin Dudley."

"Dudley Dursley? Over at the other table?"


"Well... why dont you make one for your aunt like your cousin is?"


On Mothers day.

Harry walked up the stairs to give Petunia his card. Standing outside her bedroom Vernon noticed him.

"Boy, what are you doing here?"

Harry silently showed the card he made. It was obvious that he had put a lot of effort into it and, unlike Dudley's card, was clean and unwrinkled.

Vernon snatched the card and ripped it to shreds.

"BOY! How DARE you try and upstage our Dudders! Go to your cupboard and stay there. We dont want anything that YOU make."

Harry slowly walked away with tears in his eyes.

A voice followed Harry "Oh Duddykins! This is the best card I have ever seen!"

School age 10

Miss Smythe was watching the class and saw that, like every year, Harry Potter was not doing anything.

"Harry, you need to make a card. Why dont you make one for your aunt again?"

"Aunt Petunia doesnt want it from me. Only Dudley is alowed to give her anything."

"Alright, why dont you write a letter to your mummy and we can get a priest to send it to heaven for you?"

"Realy? Cool...'Dear Mummy...'"

At the end of the class Harry handed his finished letter to the teacher and walked back to his Aunt's house.

As he walked he looked up at the sky. "Wherever Heaven is, I hope you like your present Mummy."

As Harry was walking home Miss Smythe read the letter. Shocked at what was written she hurried to see her local priest.

"Father Gibbons, I need some help with one of my students. He is 10 now and his parents died when he was a baby. I think that the aunt he lives with doesnt like him much. Will you please read the letter he wrote for his mother and tell me what you think I should do?"

"'Dear Mummy,

You might not remember me but I am Harry James Potter. This week is mothers day and instead of making a card I was alowed to make this letter.

I don't remember you or Daddy and I dont know what your name is but I hope it is ok to call you Mummy.

Aunt Petunia said you got drunk and crashed the car and I should have died like you did. Why did you die?

Aunt Petunia said that I am lucky she takes care of me. But I dont think so. She doesnt like me and Uncle Vernon and Dudley hurt me lots. I wish you were here.

I sometimes have dreams and I am playing with a lady with red hair and a deer and a dog are there too. I ride on the deer's back and the lady holds me on. I think it's you.

I asked Aunt Petunia about it and she just said I was a freak for dreaming like that. Am I a freak?

I wish I knew you and that you were still alive.

In Heaven do they still have Mothers Day? I hope so.

Happy Mothers Day Mummy. I love you.


Harry James Potter.'"

Father Gibbons took off his glasses and wiped the tears from his eyes. Even after 47 years as a priest emotional letters like this still could make him want to cry.

"You were right to bring this to me. Are there any other signs of neglect or abuse?"

"None of his clothes fit properly and are worn to rags. His cousin is in the same class and is always in the latest styles and all his clothes are new. His glasses are often broken and he is sporting and trying to hide bruses more often than can be easily explained. I have talked to child welfare but nothing seems to happen." Miss Smythe said in a rush. "And several times I have seen his cousin steal his lunch or tease him for not being given any food."

"Leave this with me and I will do what I can for the boy."

"Thank you Father. I will see you at Mass on sunday."

As Miss Smythe leaves Father Gibbons leans back in his chair.

'The boy who lived is here in my parish?"