Written For:

Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition: Tornados - Round 11 - Captain
Write a story inspired by the Season 7 Round title "Who's Afraid of the Dark?"

Spooky Dark

Nine-year-old Harry Potter closed his eyes. He tried to imagine himself in a happy place. Full of sunshine and laughter. Maybe the beach. Or a park. He had never been to the beach. He had never seen the ocean. It would be an adventure!

But the park would be nice too. As long as it was a sunny day. Without a cloud in the sky. And no darkness anyway close by.

He hated darkness. It brought out the monsters. That kind that hid under the bed. Or made stomping noise up above. Or scratching noises at his door.

He thought he heard a noise, and his eyes flew open. He quickly sat up in his small bed. He grabbed his pillow and held it tight, squeezing it to his shivering body.

He looked around, unseeing, everything clouded by the inky blackness of the dreaded dark. He hated the dark. He wished he could go out into the light.

But he knew better than to ask his aunt and uncle for a nightlight. He could imagine their twin looks of revulsion at the idea of spending even more money on him. He shuddered at their mocking laughter and Dudley's joy at the idea of Harry Hunting with such a scaredy-cat.

He laid back down and closed his eyes. If his eyes were closed, he could almost believe it wasn't dark. It's amazing the things the mind could do if one just believed enough.

X

"119, 120, 121, 122, 123…"

Harry's eyes were closed as he counted as high as he could go. He hoped that by counting, he would make himself tired enough to fall asleep. But so far, it hadn't worked.

He heard someone, or maybe something, stomping around upstairs. He stiffened and curled up into a ball, making himself as tiny as possible as he continued to count. "129, 130, 131, 132-" There was a loud whale-sized thump, immediately halting Harry's progress.

"It's probably just Dudley," Harry muttered to himself. If he didn't know his cousin loved his sleep so much, he would have thought Dudley was purposely trying to scare him. It wouldn't be the first time, but the only thing Dudley loved more than sleep was food. There was no way Dudley would willingly sacrifice something as precious as sleep just to torment Harry.

There was another thump, and Harry jumped, squeezing his ratty blanket to his chest. He closed his eyes and hummed a tune that sounded so familiar, but he didn't know where it was from. He liked to think that maybe his mum used to hum it to him. Why else would a warm feeling in his chest engulf him, making him feel safe and loved for the first time in his memory?

Hopefully, the morning would come soon.

X

Harry yawned as he stood at the sink, slowly cleaning the breakfast dishes.

"You're taking your sweet time, Boy," Uncle Vernon said. There was nothing explicitly threatening in the words themselves, but the tone made Harry freeze.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm just a little tired; I had trouble sleeping last night." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.

"Let me guess, your bed was too lumpy, you ungrateful brat," Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry quickly shook his head. "No, of course not."

Uncle Vernon stomped over to him and grabbed his wrist, yanking him. "Come here, Boy."

He had no choice but to follow. He was dragged to the hall closet. "If you're not happy enough with what you have, we can certainly make it harder for you. Clean and organize the closet. And that includes dusting, vacuuming, and wiping the dirt off of the walls. And you won't eat until you're done."

As if the threat was the magical words, his stomach growled. He hadn't been allowed to eat more than half a piece of burnt toast before Aunt Petunia ordered him to the dishes. He didn't complain, though. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Uncle Vernon stomped away, calling for Aunt Petunia. Probably to tell her to not feed him until the work was done.

Harry peered inside. It was a mess, but it was doable. Hopefully, he'd be able to finish before lunchtime.

He scrutinized everything, thinking about where to start.

First thing first, he should start by taking everything out.

More than once, Harry was forced to ignore Dudley when he looked from the stairs. If he didn't engage, hopefully, Dudley would find something else to entertain him. It was a dream at least.

When everything was finally out of the closet, he went into the garage to get the duster and the vacuum. He kept his eyes averted when he heard Aunt Petunia watching television in the living room. She didn't even spare him a word.

He plugged the vacuum into the wall and quickly vacuumed the carpet in the closet. It was a small space, and it was quickly finished. Just as Harry began dusting the shelves, making sure to leave the closet door open so light came in, Aunt Petunia stepped in the doorway. "I'm going to the bank. Don't break anything while I'm gone," she ordered.

Harry silently nodded, continuing to diligently work. If he could just finish, he could eat. He was so hungry.

The front door shut, and Harry moved the duster along the shelves, sneezing every couple of minutes as dust flew up in the air.

Harry was so focused on his task, that it took him a moment to notice there was no light coming from the hallway any longer. He turned and faced the imposing figure of his cousin. "What do you want?"

Dudley smirked. "Doing what mum says. Making sure you don't stop working."

"I'm having trouble seeing where the dust is with you standing there."

Dudley's smirk widened. "Okay, maybe this will help you." And just like that, he was gone, and the door was closed, leaving him in pitch blackness.

He dropped the duster and stifled his scream of terror. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it was locked. Of course, it was locked, and there was no way to unlock it from the inside. Only their house had locks on the outside of doors and none on the inside.

He banged on the door. "Let me out," he screamed.

Dudley started singing, "I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you…" so off-tune. Harry cringed at the awfulness of it all.

Harry blindly reached up and found the string that was supposed to turn on the light. He tugged on it, and the bulb flickered to life. Harry felt a moment of happiness, but it was soon dashed by the light turning off as quickly as it turned on.

Tears came to Harry's eyes, and he sat on the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. He was trapped in a small room, with nothing but darkness for company. And he wasn't even going to be able to finish his job, and then there would be no lunch for him.

Harry took a shuddering breath and unable to stop the tears this time around, he silently cried. He cried for the parents he never knew. He cried for the friends he never made. He cried for the love he never felt. And he cried for the light that he was sorely missing.

"I want light, I want light, I want light," Harry muttered to himself. And his wish was granted. A ball of light appeared out of thin air, floating up above him.

Harry sniffled, wiping the tears from his eyes. He studied the light. He put his hand up, feeling for heat but didn't touch it, afraid it would burn like fire did. No heat emanated from it, though.

"How?" Harry asked, awestruck.

It was magic. That's the only way to describe it. The Dursleys always said there was no such thing as magic. But magic was giving him light. Maybe magic could do other things for him. Maybe magic could save him.

All he knew was that if he could do magic, the Dursleys could never find out about it. He didn't know what they'd do to him, but it wouldn't be good.

Harry smiled, allowed himself to relax for the first time in a long while, bathing in the oh-so-glorious light. Now, he would no longer be stuck in the endless darkness in his cupboard under the stairs. Just as long as the Dursleys never found out.

XX

(word count: 1,426)