I don't own Harry Potter (but I wish I did).

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It was a foggy night with a crescent moon in the sky that could barely be seen. A little girl of six years of age, though she could have passed for a four year old, crouched beneath a slide. She wore a glazed look in her eyes. Is my mother really gone? she thought.

Father was angry. He had been having the drink again. She knew this because Mother always pushed her under the table when Father came home wobbly. She was always afraid for Mother when this happened. Mother and Father were screaming again. No, not screaming at her; screaming at each other. She was too young to understand, but what she did understand was that Mother was mad at Father for using too much of the drink this time. Father was calling Mother a...freak? What was a 'freak'? Father then pulled out a pointy object that she knew was called a knife because she had seen Mother use something similar many times in the area that was used to make food. Father wasn't making food, so why did he carry a knife? Mother suddenly grabbed her and made for the open window nearby. Father tried to grab Mother, but missed. She heard something snap. Mother was lying on the ground and crying. Mother couldn't use her leg. "Amy, darling," Mother croaked, "I need you to run far away from here. Run, Amy. Can you do that for me?" She shook her head. "Please, Amy?" Again she shook her head. "Amethyst Heart, go now!" Mother was using her commanding voice. Father was towering over Mother and her. "You won't get away from me this time, you bitch," he growled. Her legs were able to move now and she ran. They led her to a nearby playground. She finally sat down, shivering, under a slide. She never did see what happened to Mother.

The little girl awoke to jeering voices. Fortunately the voices were not paying any attention to her.