pdf - dance with me harry - Sahits

The Nichols looked pensive. "I think it's some sort of trade school," John said quietly. "I think he
may be a little shamed that he's not going to a proper public school or the local comprehensive,
especially given how bright he seems."
Pat looked up and gave Paul, the bartender, a wave for two more porters. Then resumed looking
thoughtful. Then he looked up directly into John's eyes. "It's not for me to speak ill of someone
when I don't know the facts..." and then he paused as Paul brought the pints over.
When Paul left, Pat resumed. "What I was saying is that, well...do you think they beat him?"
"Beat him?" Merelie said in shock.
"Aye," Pat said. "He has the look."
The four were silent for a long time. Finally, John spoke up. "Look, Vernon Dursley is a boor, and
an obnoxious one, at that, but that doesn't make him a child abuser."
But Merelie put her arm on her husband. "Tell me, Pat. What did you see?"
Pat sighed and took a sip of his drink. "Look, when I was a wee one, I had a mate named Frankie.
He was a good one to have around, but he never took us home with him. He never talked about his
folks. And he would get the same haunted look I saw on Harry today. Then, one day Frankie didn't
show up at school. After two or three days, my mates and me went to see him. But there was no one
there and a copper chased us off the property. Said there was a kid killed in the house and the place
was off-limits. It was Frankie. His pa beat him to death in a drunken row. I heard a story that he was
sticking up for his mum, and his pa clubbed him with a spanner. It's been a long time since I
thought of poor Frankie," Pat let out a long sigh. "But I saw him clear as day when I looked into
Harry's eyes this morning."
Merelie suddenly shivered. "You don't think...?"
Evvie, who was gripping her husband's arm tightly, shook her head. "We don't know. That's why
we needed to talk tonight. We don't know what to do."
John lowered his head with a frown. "Could it be drugs, d'ya think?"
Pat shook his head. "I don't think so. There was no signs that I could see. And remember, I worked
the docks. I've seen it all, from reefers in the warehouses to guys OD'ing on the hard stuff who had
to go direct to detox to the PCPers who thought they were God and tried to take dives off the gantry
cranes. This look was coming from something Harry was forced to go through, not something he
took to get high."
Merelie looked truly alarmed now. John raised his head and began to examine the pub patrons. "Is
Atlee here?"
Merelie looked startled. "You mean Clement Ashwell? Don't call him 'Atlee.' You know he hates
that."
John spotted Ashwell in the back, kibitzing a game of snooker while his wife socialized with
several women at a nearby table. "Clem!" John called out, and waved the man over.
A tall, gangly man with sandy brown hair and a buttoned down shirt ambled over. He reached out
his hand to John and smiled warmly. They shook hands and John grabbed a nearby chair. "Sit
down, Clem. We've got some important ministry business to discuss."
Clem laughed. "John, has Merelie been beating you again," he said chuckling. Then he turned to the
Downeys. "Or is it you, Evvie. Hasn't Pat been supporting you?"
Chuckles ran their course around the table, before Pat's face took on a more serious mien. "Clem, do
you know Harry Potter?"
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