AN: I don't own Harry Potter. I just like twisted things. Read on, dear reader.
Prelude
You must think that my mother was cruel and insane. All those awful, horrible, evil things she did. How could she be anything else but a monster? And how could her daughter be any different? The apple never falls far and still waters run deep and dirty, all that. Thank goodness that they found that girl and took her away. I don't really know that much about my mother. She must have done some horrible thing to your family and for that I'm sorry. But, she could also be kind.
The very first thing I can remember was my mother brushing my hair. I must have been two or maybe three. We had the same wild curly hair my mother and I, and she knew just what to do with it. She brushed it back into two ponytails which she braided and twisted into a knot. That day, she held her silver backed mirror to me. "Look how beautiful my little Vulpie is! Just remember that Mummy loves you forever." And then I said "I love you forever too Mummy." Then she and Daddy left, placing me in the charge of Tilley our house elf. I would always cry my eyes out, and Tilley would try to console me by baking cookies and telling me stories, usually about enchanted talking animals who would go on dangerous but exciting adventures. Looking back on it my parents were always leaving, sometimes for a couple of hours, sometimes a couple of weeks. But they always came back.
The very second thing I remember is it was night. And it was raining. Mummy and Daddy were having an argument. I tried to shut the noise out by pressing my teddy bear to my head, but I could still make out snippets of the conversation.
"I don't care what you want I'm going to find him!"
"It's the middle of the night! You can't possibly-"
"All the better then, no one will see!"
"But what about Vulpecula. You can't-"
At this point I had already climbed out of bed and was halfway down the steps when I heard:
"What about her! I'll be back soon enough!" She shoved her cloak on, grabbed her wand.
"Mummy…" I murmured, rubbing my eyes. "Where are you and Daddy going?"
My mother turned to look at me. "No where sweetie. Now, you just run back upstairs. We'll be back in the morning." And with that she strode out of our London townhouse, my father following behind her. The door slammed. Tilley lead me to my room and tucked me in and told me my favorite story about how Mr. Fox and Ms. Beaver went through the evil forest to rescue a baby Mouse. Then she told me to get some sleep, and in the morning Mummy would be home. I tried to get to sleep, really I did. But all I could do was toss and turn and wait until morning so that when I got up my mummy would be home and she would fix my messy hair and tell my I was beautiful and that she loved me forever.
Mummy never came home.