When Voldemort Stole Pink Rabbit

When Voldemort Stole Pink Rabbit

Chapter 1: Yellow Hair and Tomato Faces

He woke up, but didn't open his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep. He still felt tired.

He was cold. Really cold. Maybe Mummy had left the window open.

His hand snaked across the crib mattress, reaching for his favorite floppy, pink stuffed rabbit. But Bunny wasn't there.

And he wasn't in his crib. The surface underneath his palm was too cold and scratchy to be his crib.

Harry opened his eyes, wanting to see Mummy's face. But she wasn't there. Mummy was always there when he woke up.

No, all he could see was a wide, gray sky, stretching out for miles and miles above him.

Harry stood, his knees trembling, and a soft purple blanket fell off him. There was also a letter, but he couldn't read the strange marks on the paper. Where were Mummy and Daddy?

And then he remembered. Mummy waking him up, wet running down her face. The bad man with the white skin, pointing a wand at Mummy. More wet. Mummy falling down. Harry crawling to her and playing with a few strands of red, but Mummy didn't move. The bad man pointing the wand at Harry. The man going away. The changing table falling on him.

Harry looked around. He didn't know where he was. Everything was cold and gray. Had the bad man hurt Mummy? And where was Daddy?

He heard a noise and turned around, the steps cool to his bare feet. A tall woman with yellow for hair was standing behind him, her hand over her mouth.

"Mummy?" he asked, taking a few steps towards her. "Mummy?"

The woman scooped him up, along with the blanket and the letter. She brought him into the house, which was nice and warm after being outside.

"Vernon!" she screeched up the stairs, setting him back on his feet. Harry trembled on his unsteady legs and fell down. The carpet was hard a rough. Who was Vernon?

A very big, very tall man came down the stairs, making a loud noise. Harry put his hands over his ears.

"What is it?"

"I found him outside, on the front steps ..."

"Who is it?"

"It ... it looks like ... like him."

"You mean her ..."

"That's right, her husband."

Harry didn't know what they were talking about. All he knew was that the skinny lady and the scary man didn't know where Mummy and Daddy were.

"I want Mummy an' Daddy," he whispered, standing up again, his eyes shut tight and his hands clamped over his ears.

"I want Mummy an' Daddy," he said, a little bit louder. He continued the chant, each time his voice getting louder and louder, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I want Mummy an' Daddy! I want Mummy an' Daddy! I wa-"

His hands were pulled out of his ears, his arms held tightly to his body in a very firm grip. He squirmed, but the big hands wouldn't let go.

"Look at me," came the scary man's voice. Harry opened his eyes. The man had a very big, red face from up close. He looked like a tomato.

"You are going to shut up now," said the man. "All right?"

Harry nodded.

"Oooooh, look who woke up!" cooed the woman with yellow on her head, hurrying up the stairs and picking up a boy Harry's own age who also had yellow on his head. "Mummy's got you ..."

"Mummy?"

"Don't you start again," the scary man said, giving him a little shake. "She is not your Mummy."

"I'll make us some breakfast," the woman said, coming back down the stairs, the boy in her arms. "You'll get Duddy dressed for me?" she added, handing Duddy out to the scary man, who let go of Harry and reached out to take the boy. "And find something for him to wear as well. Can't have him run around in that pajama set, can we?"

"But what are we going to do?"

"We'll talk later," she answered. Harry noticed she picked the letter up off the floor and took it with her into another room.

"Suppose I've got to get you two dressed," the man grunted. He shifted Duddy in his arms and started to climb the stairs.

Harry lifted his arms into the air, but the man ignored him. "Up?" he asked.

"You can walk it," the man replied.

"Up!" insisted Harry.

"Walk," grunted the man.

"UP!" Harry shrieked.

The man leaned over and put his face into Harry's. "Walk," he snarled in a dangerously low voice.

Harry tottered over to the stairs and began to crawl up them - painfully slowly.

Finally, they reached Duddy's room. The scary man picked out an outfit for Duddy, then looked through the closets one more time.

"I don't think there's anything in here that'll fit you ... oh wait, here's something ..."

He pulled out a T-shirt with a doggy on the front. Harry clapped his hand, delighted.

"Pa'foot! Pa'foot!"

"What?"

Harry came closer to the shirt and poked the doggie's nose. Why wouldn't it move?

"Pa'foot move now!" he commanded. "Move!"

"Shut up and put it on," was the scary man's reply. He pulled Harry's pajama shirt off. He liked that shirt. It had snitches on it.

The man stuffed Harry's head and arms through the holes. The shirt was big, but not too big. Nice and roomy.

The man found a pair of pants and put them on as well. The he and Duddy and the man went back down the stairs and into a big yellow room. The lady was at a stove, stirring something in a pot.

"Sit down, all of you," she said, pointing to a table with four chairs. The man put Duddy into what Mummy called "a big boy chair."

"Bi-boy-tair?" he asked the lady. Mummy had never let him sit on the Mummy-and-Daddy chairs before.

"We don't have an extra one, Harry, so you'll have to make do with this," the woman said, plopping a big book onto one of the Mummy-and-Daddy chairs.

"Harry!" the scary man said. Harry turned. "So he is ... her son!"

The woman nodded, spooning oatmeal onto Duddy's plate.

"And just how do you know this?"

"The letter," she said simply, dropping the paper on the table.

The scary man read the note out loud. Harry didn't understand very much of it. He concentrated on separating the burnt parts of his oatmeal from the rest of it. The lady wasn't very good at making food, not like Daddy.

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. I am deeply sorry to inform you of the passing of your sister and her husband. They were murdered. The thing is still a great mystery; I cannot fully explain it here. Suffice to say that the murderer tried and failed to kill their son, Harry.

"This is where your help is needed. We have decided to award you custody of Harry James Potter. When he is older, other arrangements might be made, but for now we would like you to raise him. I am sure you will all be very happy together. Albus Dumbledore. PS: His birthday is July 31. I will be sending along a pair of socks."

"What rubbish," the man snapped, tossing down the letter. "There wasn't anything else with it?"

"That - that was it," said the woman, but Harry noticed she was patting her apron pocket almost protectively.

"Well, he can't stay here!"

"Why not? I thought that -"

"He's - he's one of them, Petunia! There's no telling what he's capable of!"

"He's fifteen months old! Please, Vernon, just ... what harm could he be?"

They continued arguing, but Harry blocked them out. He heard his name a few times and knew they were talking about him.

Finally, the woman bent over him and put out her hand. "Would you like to stay with us, Harry?"

He glanced at the scary man and was about to say no, but then he saw a change in her eyes. They locked ... they looked like Mummy's eyes for a moment ...

"Mummy?"

"No." She shook her head. "Aunt Petunia."

"Aunt Tuna?"

"No - Petunia."

"Aunt Pet?"

"That's right. Why don't you come upstairs with me now?"

He reached out and took her hand and as he did so, he felt a warmth spread through his entire body, like when Daddy lit a fire and he and Mummy and Daddy all sat in front of it, safe and cozy and warm.

* * *

He lay that night on a small mattress in Duddy's bedroom, listening to him snore.

He wanted his room back, with his books and his toys. And he wanted Mummy's face there in the morning when he woke up, shining above him, but he knew it wouldn't be there.

He rolled over and tried to fall asleep without his pink Bunny.

Chapter 2: The Fireflies Are Smiling

Harry had lived with Aunt Pet, Ucle Vernie, and Duddy for a long long long time.

Nine months, in fact, but he didn't know that.

And he couldn't feel the warm anymore. And he couldn't call them Aunt Pet or Ucle Vernie or Duddy.

Harry didn't know why. He had only wanted to make a fire like Daddy did. With one stick giving fire to the other sticks. Only he didn't have a Mummy and Daddy stick. So he waved his hand instead. And fire had come out of it. Real fire. It was hot.

Maybe Ucle Vernie didn't like fire.

He yelled at Harry. He put Harry in the dark. For a long time. Almost as long as Harry hadn't seen Mummy and Daddy. Then Harry said "Ucle Vernie" and ucle hurt his hand.

Now they were: Aunt, Cousin, and Uncle, with the "ennnn" sound very clear.

Aunt wasn't nice anymore like she was at first. And not Cousin neither. And not Uncle.

Harry was afraid of Uncle. Uncle could hurt him. He didn't, but Harry knew he could.

Uncle was very strong.

Harry wasn't scared of The Dark anymore. When Uncle first put him in The Dark he had shaked and shaked and cried very loudly. But now he was a big boy. He spent a lot of time in The Dark, so it wasn't scary anymore. Only cold.

Harry never felt warm now. Not ever.

Cousin was a big meanie. Cousin could hurt Harry, and he did. Only Harry wasn't afraid of him. Cousin couldn't really hurt him, not if Harry pretended he couldn't and said it in his mind over and over and over.

Uncle didn't like when Harry talked, so Harry didn't. His school Mummy, Miss Webber, said Harry could tell her anything he liked. He talked to Miss Webber. She was nice.

But Miss Webber was only his school Mummy. Harry wondered when Mummy and Daddy were going to come take him away. Maybe they had to get better after the bad man hurt them. Maybe they were all better now and would come take him home tomorrow.

* * *

Tomorrow came.

Harry waited for Aunt to open up The Dark. When she did, he went fast up the stairs to the potty, but it was too late and there was already smelly water by his underpants. Aunt didn't like that. She sprayed cold water on him and gave him new pants. Harry quickly pulled on the new pants and then went down the stairs with Aunt. Aunt put him in Cousin's high chair and pulled the strap very tight. Only Mummy called them "big boy chairs", not Aunt. Now they were high chairs.

Aunt made breakfast. Harry waited for Cousin to wake up so Aunt would take him out of the high chair. Aunt did that every day. Harry would always sit in the high chair with the strap done tight until Cousin came down and wanted to eat. Then he would sit in a big chair.

Uncle came down the stairs and opened the paper.

"Dudley awake yet?" Uncle said. 'Dudley' meant Cousin.

"He's got a little cold," said Aunt. "I'll take him some breakfast as soon as I'm done down here."

That meant Cousin wouldn't come to breakfast. That meant that Harry wouldn't have to sit in a big person chair, like he usually did. When Harry sat in his big person chair he sometimes fell off. Today was special.

Harry pushed at the buckle on the strap. The strap was really starting to hurt.

Aunt saw him pushing. She did a frown, but made the strap feel better. "But if you wiggle around," she said in her Angry voice, "that's being tightened back up."

Harry knew Aunt meant it. He nodded Yes.

Aunt put two breakfast plates on the table, one for Harry and one for Uncle. Uncle had hot cereal. Harry did too, only his was cold.

On the day Miss Webber called Sunday, when there wasn't any school, Aunt made a biiiiig bowl of hot cereal, special for Harry. She put it in the Cold Box and gave Harry a little of it every morning. Except when Harry got to eat it, it was very cold and lumpy.

And very yucky, he decided once he took a bite.

The Ding-Dong rang and Uncle went to open the door. Harry watched as Uncle picked up a package that had been sitting outside.

Aunt saw it too. "What is it, Vernon? Another package for Dudley?" 'Vernon' meant Uncle.

"No ..." Uncle said. "It's for ... it's for him."

'Him' meant Harry.

"But it couldn't possibly - "

Aunt and Uncle talked loudly while Harry finished his cereal. Harry didn't like their loud voices, but they weren't yelling at him, so that was okay. When he finished, Harry waited for Aunt to take him out.

He waited a long time.

Then, Aunt took him out of the high chair and put him on the floor. "Here," she said, giving him the package.

It was all wrapped in paper, so Harry tore it off. And inside - there were socks.

Harry liked the socks. He thought they were pretty. There were six all together, two red, two blue, and two a pretty yellow color.

Harry looked up at Aunt. Was it okay if he smiled? Aunt's face was ugly - no, he shouldn't smile.

"My socks?"

"Of course they're your socks," Aunt said in her Get-Into-the-Car-Right-Now voice. "Why else would we give them to you? Now take them out of here right this instant."

Harry picked up all the socks and ran into the living room. He sat on the floor and pulled one blue and one yellow sock over his bare feet.

The socks were fuzzy and warm inside, almost like the Bunny toy Harry remembered. It was pink. He didn't have any toys now.

Maybe the socks can be my toys, Harry thought happily when he realized his feet weren't cold anymore. Now I can have toys too!

Harry grabbed the other socks and took them into The Dark. He closed the door ...

The yellow sock on his foot and the one he was carrying were lighting up! They made The Dark pretty, and it wasn't so dark anymore.

Harry felt like giggling, but he knew Aunt and Uncle would hear him and they wouldn't like it. So he smiled.

Aunt and Uncle can't see me in here. I'm hiding from them, just like Mummy and Daddy are hiding from me.

The thought of hiding made Harry smile more. He switched the yellow sock on his foot for a red one, then swung the yellow socks around in wild circles above his head.

They look like fireflies ...