khaoula McGamoura, I think you'll particularly enjoy the end of this one. It has what you asked for...
Anyway, Disclaimer! I don't own Harry Potter :'(
Annabelle hadn't gotten any food the first two days of being back home, and when she finally did, it was obviously dinner scraps. The food looked barely suitable for a dog, not a growing child. Annabelle ate it anyway, and she'd been eating the same since then.
It was harder now because she was used to eating all she wanted at Hogwarts. Her body had actually begun to fill out while at school. She had muscles forming from playing Quidditch and fat had begun to grow over her ribs. Looking in the mirror, she could already see the beginnings of the effects of being home.
Annabelle had been home for a week and a half now, and Christmas had long since come and gone. That was the one day where her food was more than marginal scraps. Her mother had brought a whole plate of food up and told her that was all she was getting for Christmas, and that if she looked ungrateful, that her father would take care of her.
Annabelle couldn't have been more grateful, but she'd still gotten a visit from her father later that night. He'd decided that, since she was home, she'd entertain him. She had gotten out her flute and begun to play, but it wasn't as good as normal. She hadn't practiced much since arriving at Hogwarts, and so her skills were a little rusty.
The following day, the pair took a trip to a metal shop where they melted the flute down. Annabelle hadn't controlled her tears and now had to pay the price for crying. Every day since then, her father had set a time aside in his 'busy schedule' to come pay her a visit and teach her what happens when people cry. Annabelle was sure there wasn't a spot on her whole body that wasn't bruised. She felt she could hardly move, and she wanted out. She wanted out so bad, but she had no way of leaving.
She didn't have an owl to contact anybody, and she couldn't perform magic outside of school. It was almost time for him to come back, and she wasn't ready. She was too close to tears already today. If he saw her crying, it would only last longer. She moved to lock Sylvanna's crate, much to the cat's displeasure.
The first day he had come in to 'teach her a lesson,' Sylvanna had disobeyed Annabelle and leapt out to attack him. However, on Annabelle's tearful orders, she backed off. Since then, Annabelle had made sure to lock her crate before he came. Now, she sat on her bed, waiting for the inevitable to come.
At quarter after four, her father stumbled into the room, obviously intoxicated. He shut the door behind him and scanned the room. His eyes passed right over Annabelle for a moment, but then they snapped back and a cheesy, sour grin covered his face. "So, Anna, have we learned our lesson?"
The witch simply nodded, and focused her gaze on the quilt below her.
"I can't hear you, freak." He sneered and took a step in her direction, almost losing his balance in the process.
"Yes, sir. I learned my lesson." She mumbled, but refused to look up at the inebriated man.
"Let's test that." Grabbing a handful of blonde hair, Mr. Wyte tossed his daughter to the ground. He chuckled when he heard her head hit the corner of the desk, but hadn't expected to see the amount of blood that oozed from her head and covered the floor. His thoughts jumbled as the blood continued to soak the carpet and the cat began to mewl noisily. This was becoming too much.
Miranda was going to kill him. Looking down, he began to think straight again. Surely, a girl her size could easily fall, hit her head, and die, right? He stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Annabelle let out a sob as the door shut. Her entire being hurt. She tried to crawl into a sitting position, but only managed to lean against the desk. She tiredly reached up and grabbed the crate, pulling it down and onto her lap. "Sylv'ya, we need out." She fumbled with the lock, but after a minute, she managed to unlock it and pull open the door.
The witch was growing more light-headed by the second and now her vision was growing cloudy. Sylvia stood with her nose practically touching Annabelle's and she seemed to be saying something. Annabelle knew they needed help, and there was only one person who came to mind, but she couldn't reach them. Another sob shook her body and her vision faded to a dull black for a few moments.
She was awoken by a rough tongue cascading over her skin and she pushed Sylvia away. "Not now…." Her voice was nothing but a groan now and she curled in around herself, needing the warmth. Then the image of a little elf came to mind. Would Lindy still answer her even if she was far away? "Lindy?"
Lindy jerked her head away from Mistress and her ears shot up, roving like satellites. She could have sworn she heard Little Miss call, but it was probably just her imagination. She turned back to Mistress and finished pouring her a cup of tea. "Sorry, Mistress. Lindy was distracted."
Minerva simply smiled and reached out to the house elf. "That's not a problem, Lindy. You know that." She and Albus were lounging in the study, both of them reading and drinking tea. Minerva had needed to relax after everything that had happened so far this year. Between the Chamber of Secrets and now her star pupil growing a tail and fur, Minerva didn't know what to do! She had not been happy when Poppy informed her of that little mishap. The worst part was the fact that Miss Granger was still in the hospital wing and wouldn't tell them how it happened! She said it was an accident!
Forcing herself to calm down, she looked toward Lindy again and noticed her faraway expression. It was as if she was trying to hear something that wasn't there. Before Minerva had a chance to ask, Lindy disapparated with a 'pop.'
Annabelle gave a shy smile when she saw the elf appear in front of her. "You heard me…" Her voice trailed off in the end as she was growing constantly weaker. She couldn't seem to concentrate as the elf began to buzz around her, asking questions that Annabelle couldn't really make sense of. Finally, she looked up when she heard a 'pop' and groaned when she realized that the elf was gone.
Lindy reappeared in the study, looking horrified. "Mistress! Little Miss needs help!"
Minerva looked up from her book and her eyes grew wide with shock upon hearing Lindy's exclamation. Annabelle needed help? "Is Litt…er Miss Wyte injured?"
The elf simply nodded her head vigorously as she asked, "May Lindy bring Little Miss here?"
"Y-Yes. Bring her here." Minerva couldn't help a stutter. Annabelle was hurt, and it was all her fault. She should have stopped the girl from going home. She could have stopped this from happening. She never should have let her go home.
Once again, her thoughts were cut off by a light touch from Albus. "Tabby, it's not your fault. What you need to do now, is help the girl. I'm sure that Lindy won't take long to bring her back."
Lindy reappeared in the witch's bedroom and bent over her figure. "Little Miss!" She didn't respond, so Lindy tried lightly shaking her arm. "Little Miss!"
This time, Annabelle's eyes fluttered open. "Lindy.."
The little elf nodded vigorously. "Lindy takes Little Miss to Mistress and Master. They can help Little Miss."
Annabelle pulled Sylvanna to her chest. "Alright." She felt the elf grab her arm and soon she felt the familiar pull of apparition. Just as quickly as it started, it finished as she landed on a couch beside her Transfiguration professor. That was the last thing she had seen before she passed out.
Now, Minerva stood over her student, performing a few spells to check her over while Albus floo'ed Poppy. Minerva knew that it was a job for the mediwitch the moment she'd seen the blood. She'd already poured a tiny bit of dittany over the wound, but head injuries needed special treatment, not just immediately healing. This was certainly not how Minerva planned to spend her New Year's Eve!
Albus walked back into the room with Poppy at his side. "Minnie, what's-" The mediwitch cut off short upon seeing the blonde witch. This was worse than Albus had said. Poppy practically flew over to the pair of witches and immediately began a few diagnostic spells. "Minnie, she's covered in injuries. It's not just her head." The mediwitch was whispering because she didn't think she could reign in her temper if she got any louder. Whoever had done this to the child would pay. "Minerva, I need her in the hospital wing. My supplies are all in there."
Minerva moved in between the mediwitch and her student. "No. She stays here." There was a certain fire in Minerva's eyes that told Poppy and Albus that there would be no arguing that point. They'd have to go through her to get the younger witch out.
Poppy conceded and looked between Albus and Minerva. "Levitate her to the nearest bed and place a cold, damp cloth to her head injury. I'll be right back." The mediwitch turned on her heel and floo'ed back to the infirmary. She grabbed a bag off a nearby shelf and grabbed a couple potions off her desk, sticking them inside. After a split-second of consideration, she grabbed more of each and floo'ed back to Minerva's quarters. If the Transfiguration professor had anything to do with it, Miss Wyte would never see the inside of the hospital wing!
Walking into the private quarters, Poppy quickly made her way back to the guest bedroom, where she knew Minerva would have the younger witch. "Out of my way!" She dodged both adults and stood beside the bed. She pulled a sickly looking green potion out of her bag and carefully poured it down Annabelle's throat. Then, she pointed her wand at Annabelle's injury and spoke, "Vulnera Sanetur." The injury appeared to close itself most the way and the mediwitch nodded her approval.
Still pointing her wand at Annabelle's head, she said another spell, "Tergeo." This one simply washed the blood away from her scalp and hair, but also from her clothing as Poppy directed her wand toward every speck of blood she could see. Now that her patient was stable, she turned on Minerva. "How on earth did this happen? I thought this witch was going home!" Then a thought crossed her mind as she continued to point a long, thin finger at the witch. "Don't tell me those muggles did this to her. Minerva, they will pay for this."
Minerva let her friend rant and then nodded, clenching her teeth tight. "Yes, Poppy, they will. First, however, we need to get her healed. That's my first priority, but believe me: the muggles will pay for this." The fire in Minerva's eyes only intensified as she spoke about Mr. & Mrs. Wyte. "They will pay."