Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. Too bad, really. I would have fixed the last book to not include a real ending.

Author's Note: As readers may have guessed, I am terrible at updating, and usually abandon my stories if I find they no longer interest me, or as is more likely, I forget what I was doing, and cant remember the intended plot for the life of me. I am the opposite of orginized, you see, and I never write anything down.

Artfully Insane

The Darkness is warm.

Much warmer than the woman who feeds me.

Much warmer than the eyes of the woman who teaches me.

Blazing hot compared to the words of disdain that the man throws at me.

It is warmer than my blanket

Warmer than the carpet under my feet

Far warmer than the metal doorknob turning under my small palms

It envelops me as I leave the chilly house

I enjoy the sensation as darkness surrounds me,

ignoring the gentle snowfall brushing my cheeks and hair

My hair is like Darkness!~ Isn't that so nice.

I pad slowly toward the forest, where the darkness is warmest.

Away from the street lights

Away from the houses

Away from the cold people.

It calls to me.

Mrs Figg could not help but wake up that night, staring at her ceiling for a long while, wondering what was amiss. Her blankets were warm, and the lights were all off. She remembered feeding all her children last evening, and did her groceries just a few days ago. The aging woman looked around, watching as her cats sat stiffly by the windows.

That got her attention. Normally they laid about at night, perhaps wandering about the house or sleeping next to her. But this night, they sat upright, tails stiff and hackles raised. Every one of them stared as something moved outside the window, each of them moving their heads in sync to watch whatever it was.

Mrs Figg slowly pushed her covers back, stepping slowly out of bed, only the pale moonlight outside lighting her way. Pushing her feet into some worn-down slippers to ward off the winter chill, she crept behind her cats to look outside.

At first she saw nothing but shadows outside. As her eyes adjusted, however, they widened in surprise and horror. Across the street, she watched as the young potter boy walked languidly across the snow-covered street, his seven-year-old form slowly being covered in snow. He also walked with his head high, focused on one thing as he walked.

Never mind how he walked! It was the dead of night, and the boy was waltzing about with nothing on but his nightclothes! She bustled about, ignoring her cats strange actions for the moment in favor of going to usher the boy back inside. Pulling on an old coat, she stepped out into the snow, wincing as bits of it reminded her that she was still only wearing slippers. With wet feet and fogged breath, she hop-walked down the sidewalk towards the young Harry Potter, determined to get him inside, trying her best to ignore the uncomfortable prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck. Trying desperately to ignore the way he had not stopped, even after she called out to him.

When she got close enough, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

She should have stayed in bed.

It whispered beautiful words in my head

It caressed my arms and face and made me comfortable in this dreary weather.

It tugged at my clothes, urging me to hurry

I, however, was under the idea that just being in the presence of Darkness was enough

I walked slowly, always keeping my eyes on the center of where I knew the darkness to reside.

Always going toward the forest.

I heard the crunching of snow, and the Darkness told me that it was the cat lady who took care of me sometimes.

She was warmer than the woman who fed me.

But she was still cold.

I did not want her.

I felt Darkness getting antsy as she got closer.

Felt it starting to rise up out of its bed, warning and protecting me.

I trudged through a snow bank, breathing in the crisp air that Darkness inhibited.

And jerked in surprise as a cold hand touched my shoulder.

I let out a small cry, much like that of a startled bird, and fell back into the snow like a puppet suddenly cut of its strings.

The cat woman looked on in horror as her own, as well as the my shadow started to move unnaturally, twisting out of mimicry and rising up to attack her.

How dare she touch me!

I soon got to my feet, smiling softly as I continued his journey to the forest

The cat lady would not bother me again tonight

That year, winter took a very harsh toll on the Surrey area, blanketing it in thick snow that seemed to build up more, every time a warm front passed.

Snow covered the woman's body, leaving her hidden until the following spring, when the falling frost finally took its leave.

The authorities came, and proclaimed her dead of a broken neck, and exposure. Her spine had been snapped, after all, and with her laying face-down in the snow like that, one could only assume such proclamations to be true.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley never mentioned that their nephew had also disappeared, not particularly caring about his fate. They told his teachers that they decided to home-school him, and went on with their lives.

No living soul saw that night, as the boy finally reached his destination. No one saw as the shadows whirled around him, cascading and twisting like some living river of darkness. No one saw as his face lit up with joy as the darkness enveloped him completely, imploding into his small frame and taking him away. No one but his relatives knew Harry Potter had gone missing.

Well, Aside from Arabella Figg, but she was in no real place to talk. The cemetery does not give one any real audience, you see.