VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!!!

If you are at all familiar with my work – I do have several stories - you will know that I find it extremely difficult to finish any story longer than one chapter. Because of that, I have many little plot bunnies sitting on my desktop feeling very alone, and unwanted. Inspired by others who've made 'Plot bunny Farms' already, I figured I'd give these little ideas a second chance. So, if you want to use one of them, just tell me in a review because I will want to read the story too!

Thanks for bothering to read this note,

Echo

Bunny 1

Warnings: child abuse.

Time: second year summer

Short noon shadows fell upon bed forming black bars not unlike those of a jail cell. Across from the bed sat an open wardrobe. Sharing that wall was a locked door. Even with such basic things, the room was crowded and uncomfortable with only a small path of floor to walk upon. However, the boy lying on the bed didn't feel like walking about. The savior of the wizarding world stared up at the celling, still dressed in his sleep shorts. He had nowhere to go. His wild hair was at that awkward stage between cuts and was very greasy. He hadn't had a shower since June. His glasses were somewhere to his right, he knew that. But Harry didn't feel like looking for them at the moment. His celling needed no close examination; he had stared at it for many hours already. His green eyes blinked slowly and he sighed.

Harry's stomach had stopped growling sometime last week. His ribs had begun to show a month ago. By July he had stopped performing his chores. The Dursley's didn't care; they hired a maid. After casually telling her the small room upstairs was just storage - it needn't be cleaned - all danger had been erased. Harry continued his existence undisturbed and unnoticed. Even his uncle, who for many weeks had been faithful in his daily checkups on his morbid experiment, had forgotten him. The door had not been opened in three days. He had not been fed for even longer, though the exact numbers… time was hazy in his mind as night and day faded into strange changes of light and dark between random but frequent catnaps.

Harry shifted his shoulders and grimaced as his bones rubbed together painfully. Padding tissues had been eaten away by hunger; it even hurt to sit up. Below his room he could hear the murmur in the kitchen of the Dursley's eating lunch. A loud, honking laugh was easily recognized as Piers. Funny, how easily the world accepted his absence. At first, when hunger was fresh and anger was roaring in his ears, Harry had dreamed of someone showing up to say 'hi', or check on him. After all he was their savior and only an apparition away. But July was almost over and no one had bothered to even owl him. It was beginning to feel like some sort of dream. A fairy tale the night had sent to taunt him. Maybe he wasn't really special. Maybe his friends only wanted him for his fame, or perhaps they were just a figment of his imagination. How long had he really been locked up in his room? What if the year had never happened? He was still ten and destined to attend Stonewall High in the fall?

His eyes drifted to Hedwig's empty cage. No, it was real. The cage had become a anchor for his sanity in the last few weeks. Early that summer, when the food was just beginning to dwindle and Vernon was spending the early hours of the morning yelling about "THAT RUDDY OWL!" Harry had suggested, hotly, to just let her go free. Amazingly enough, Vernon's sleep-deprived brain agreed, and Harry had quickly sent her from the back yard with the whispered words, "You need to stay somewhere else. Don't come back here. Meet me at Hogwarts in September, okay girl?" She had blinked in what he could only hope to be a 'yes' and soared off. Now Harry sorely missed her company, but doubted she'd survive the starvation.

Starvation. What was Dumbledore doing as Harry lay in his bed, to weak to move? With a sour smile Harry wondered what sort of important meetings and decisions he was thinking about. What type of tea should he have with his biscuits? What robes should he wear to the big party, the yellow or the purple? Or perhaps his new silver ones - the embroidery was quite wild. On that sour note, still idly imagining what the Headmaster of Hogwarts was doing, Harry fell asleep.

He woke to the sound of the doorbell. Dazedly he heard the door open with a squelch and the high fake voice of Petunia. "Welcome, do come in. Here, I'll take your hats. What a lovely coat, Mrs. Mason," she exclaimed, her voice growing steadily softer as they moved into the dining room. He dimly realized it had to be yet another business dinner. How funny, how perfect, the house seemed with him out of the way. The Dursley's must be overjoyed. As their voices faded to only muffled murmurs, Harry began to fall back asleep when there came a loud POP! His eyes flew open only to catch sight of an incredibly dirty rag. There came a gasp and another POP! He raised a tired eyebrow, and fell asleep.

He slept fitfully, hunger nawing at his insides. He was at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall, looking around for Ron and Hermione, but they were at the Slytherin table. He waved at them, calling them over to join him. They didn't even look at him. They ignored him as Draco smirked from beside them as if to say, "You thought they were your friends? Forget it. Who'd want to be friends with you?"

Food appeared on the table and the students began to eat. Harry eagerly reached for the turkey, but he couldn't hold onto it. It slipped out of his grasp even when he used two hands. He tried to scoot it to his plate, but it refused. He tried to lean down and bite it from the dish, but it hopped away. He was so hungry! The heavy aromas of the feast were torturing him. He reached out for the juice, carrots, salad, ham, but nothing would let him eat it. He looked up at Dumbledore. They mans' blue eyes looked over him as if he didn't exist. Harry was not important. He continued to struggle with the food. The settings swirled and he was staring at it floating before a black background. The food began to dance before his eyes, multiplying and dripping juice. It hovered just beyond reach and every swipe he took at it it avoided with ease. Desperately he tried to hold it but it swerved out of the way with a rattling noise. They rattling noise got louder…

Harry awoke with a start. The room was dark, it was obviously late at night and the loud snores of Vernon could be heard down the hall. Shivering he debated reaching down for the blanket at the foot of the bed. The rattling noise didn't stop. Turning with the speed of a man hundreds of years old, he looked out the window. There with his nose pressed up against the window was the freckle face of Ron! He was sitting in what appeared to be a floating car! Grinning Harry turned a bit more to see him better. He had to be dreaming. Ron's face kept peering through the window; he obviously couldn't find Harry in the pitch black of the room. Harry watched him turn back in the car, and for a heart-stopping moment he thought Ron would leave. But then, another face appeared in sight of the window. The twins had come! A rope was tossed out and tied around the bars. Harry grinned.

The engine revved loudly. Harry winced. If Vernon woke… and with a crunching noise the bars slid straight out of the window. The car dropped a bit, he heard the thump of the bars hitting the grass and watched a hand drop the rope. The car pulled right up to the window and parked. Ron poked him head in, "Harry? You here?"

With a smile still wild on his face Harry tried to say, "Yeah over here!" but all that came out was a raspy cough. "Sorry," he rasped, dry-throated and weak lunged. I'm here." Ron looked worried at his voice

"You okay?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. Ron rushed to climb through the window. "Quiet! Don't wake them!" Ron moved more carefully and jumped inside, followed by the curious twins.

Ron stumbled a bit in the dark. "Where are y -" Ron cut himself off as he saw the figure in the bed. "Harry?"

"Here we go!" whispered Fred from the door. A quiet click and the light flashed on. Harry winced, his eyes smarting from the unexpected light as the three boys gasped out in horror.

"My God."

Every one of his ribs stuck out above his hollowed stomach. His arms, scrawny but slightly muscular only months ago from Quidditch, were bones covered tightly by skin. Even his thighs had lost all extra fat and lay like twigs beneath his jutting hipbones. Familiar green eyes squinted at them from the skeletal body. He smiled, his lips stretched tight against the teeth. "Hey."

They stared, open mouthed, "Are you going to take me away?" he asked them.

"Yes," George told him. The words seem to shake him from his horrified stupor. He nodded again. "Ron and I'll help get him into the car," he told Fred. "Go get his stuff, okay?"

Nod. "It's in the cupboard beneath the stairs," Harry told him. "It's locked. The bottom stair creaks."

Fred whipped out a hairpin with a smile that tried to lighten the mood, but his hands shook and his eyes held no joy. Fred hurried to leave, and Ron walked over to the bed.

"Can you move?" he asked quietly. Harry didn't answer, but saved his breath to struggle to push himself up. It hurt so bad. Biting his lip he finally sat up. George got right beside him. "Mind if I carry you?"

Harry shook his head. Ashamed he told him tightly, "Just get me out." Awkwardly, but attempting to be gentle, George lifted Harry bridal-style in his arms. Two steps and they were at the window. Ron scrambled ahead, and between the two of them they managed to set Harry in the back seat. "Ron, There's a loose floor board beneath the bed, two in from the right…" Ron nodded and jumped back out. Fred appeared moments later with his things. Ron clambered back in the car with his small bundle and they zoomed away leaving a broken window, and lighted room as the only proof of their visit.

Minutes later Harry was once again asleep and the silent brothers sped home worriedly.

The sky was touched with a hint of pink when the car bumped down on the road an hour later. Harry opened his eyes and saw Ron sitting beside him, staring blankly out the window. Harry looked out the window as well. They were coming to a stop before the strangest house he'd ever seen. Chickens were just beginning to scratch about in the house's long shadow. The house itself teetered precariously seeming more magic than wood or stone. It had perhaps began as a normal, ordinary small house, but with one room added there, and another there, it became a dangerous stack of magic and nails and the occasional stone or brick. As soon as the car was stopped, George bolted from the passenger seat. "MUM!" he yelled, racing towards the house. "MUM!"

From the front door came marching a short, plump red headed woman. "Do you have any idea - " she began to lecture, but George cut her off.

"Later. We need help. We got Harry but - " he glanced around at a loss for words. "Come." He took her arm and dragged her to the passenger side where Harry lay still on the seat. Ron held the door open. Molly opened her mouth, and froze, her hand flying to her heart. "Oh my god." she whispered.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice quavered when she spoke. "St. Mungo's, now." She decided. "Boys get back in that car. No, Fred, stay and go wake everyone. Keep them here, but you floo your father. Tell him what happened. What were you thinking, moving him about so much?!" At a run Mrs. Weasley took the drivers seat. Ron looked at her in surprise.

"Got a drivers license with your father back when we were dating," she told him shortly as they buckled in. A quick U-turn and they were off, speeding even faster through the skies.

"Why didn't we just port-key?" Ron asked, glancing worriedly at his sleeping friend.

"Portkey? Can't you see movement hurts him! It'd be worse than apparition and almost as bad as floo! Now hush, I need to concentrate." In the back seat Harry dozed with a wince creased into his face. Beside him George rested a hand on his bony knee in shock. Ron stared over the shoulder of the front seat at him in shock. The car was silent as a graveyard as the three Weasley's made the longest journey of their lives.

In all reality, the car, flying at speeds dangerously fast, took less than half an hour to arrive in London. Courtesy of the invisibility button Molly was able to park right in front of the unused shop disguising St. Mungoes. Punching the button to un-disillusion the car, the mother ordered the boys to stay behind as she sprinted inside.

Her wooden shoes clattered loudly in the you're-a-stranger or I-so-worried silence that fills all hospitals. She cut right in front of the entire line at the receptionist's desk. Men and women glared at her, but she ignored them. This was an emergency.

"There is a line -" the bored woman began, but Molly spoke over her.

"I have a boy in out front. I need healers now, he's too weak to move. Starvation." she blurted out. The curly haired woman behind the desk looked shocked. Stammering she dropped her quill onto the papers in front of her, leaving huge ink stains that blossomed like bleeding flowers over the self-important words. The line behind her gasped as the words she said spread throughout the group. Starvation? The receptionist yanked her wand from where she'd used it like a pencil to put up her hair. A tap on an orange button got a bell chiming by the swinging double doors across the hall.

"Patient out front, severe starvation." Molly even forgot to thank her, as she ran off, shoes clacking, to the exit as four healers in orange emergency robes sprinted from the double doors, robes flying, gloves on. She ran beside them and pointed out the car. With quick wands and efficient movements, the four moved Harry onto a stretcher, told the Weasley's to wait in the Waiting Room and ran back inside in less than five minutes flat. Ron, George, and Molly stared after Harry's corpselike form.

"He's gonna be okay," George said. But none of them believed it.

A/N: Leave a review if you want it, or you just want to comment!

Echo