Chapter 1 : Beginnings, Mornings and Letters
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Everything you see apart from the storyline and OC's belongs to J. K. Rowling and her amazing imagination.
By the lovely and amazing Lucie Longhorn @tda
I woke up with a start, springing up in bed breathing heavily. I hate my dreams; they always make me scared that my father will come back even though I know he can’t find me.
Today is a Saturday; obviously my mind was being oh-so-nice and decided to let me stress on my weekend off... Yeah, thanks so much brain, you’re just great.
Sighing, I pulled the purple covers off of me, swung my legs out of my bed and jumped down to the ground. Sometimes the height of my bed just proved how short I was. Ok, so I wasn’t that short—I was 5”4, but my bed still trumped me.
Crossing the cold wooden floor of my room to my mirror, I stared at my reflection. I had chestnut hair that sometimes looked red in the sun, brown eyes that, unlike other people’s, always showed exactly what I was feeling.
This was always highly annoying with people that know what they’re looking for.
I was pale, too; living practically on the beach with the sun shining down on me every day didn’t seem to make me any darker in colour.
Stupid albino genes.
All in all, I pretty much looked average, not ugly, but not exceptionally pretty either (Some people didn’t seem to agree with that, but we will get to this problem later).
“MATILDA, GET UP NOW!” Yelled a woman’s voice from somewhere outside my door. Why did she have to yell every morning? It gets very tiresome, not to mention hurts my ears and gives me a splitting headache.
I sighed, turning away from the mirror and towards my chest of drawers. This was always the best time of day, finding clothes to wear…NOT! After debating for about 10 minutes on whether to go with outrageously bright jeans or not, I took the safe option, grabbing a pair of black jeans, an ACDC top, and a pair of red Converse. I might add that I had this all done before 7:25 (having woken up at 7:00) in the morning and was now racing down the stairs to get to the kitchen before 7:30 so nothing bad would happen.
Maybe I should explain.
See, my mum is what you would call a shitty parent: she’s abusive and degrading, and treats me like a servant. I am not even slightly kidding. Her exact words were, “Why should I get a maid when I can get a worthless girl like you to do it for me?” See? No self-confidence building material there. It gets worse when she’s drunk, that’s when the abusive bit comes into play. I have so many bruises from times I am unable to get out of the house before she finds me. I’ve learnt from experience that when she’s in a shitty mood, running for my room, locking the door to give me some time, and bailing out my window to my best friend Ben’s house is the best option to avoid the pain. I like to think of it as a daring adventure; really it’s just self-preservation.
Anyway, back to the present.
Finally walking into the kitchen after plummeting into the wall at the bottom of the stairs to stop myself from running, I saw my mother at the kitchen table with—what a surprise—a glass of scotch in her hand.
Did I mention it was 7:30? Oh, yeah, I did.
“There you are, you filthy girl. Make my some breakfast; I need to leave for work in half an hour.” My mother drunkenly stuttered to me.
Wonder how many she’s had.
After 10 seconds, when I still hadn’t started heating the pan, I got a mouthful on how “ungrateful and useless and blah, blah, blah” I was. After about the 10th time I heard this same speech, I just sort of started zoning it out.
I finally finishing making a disgustingly greasy breakfast for my deranged mother, my way of pay back for the way she treats me. I really want to see what she would look like fat.
I went out to the mailbox to get the mail. Walking back into the house with the mail in my hand, I walked back to the kitchen, smashing into 2 walls on my way. Looking where I’m going? I think not!
Anyway, as I was looking down at the letters that were in my hand I noticed a letter that had my name on it... which was pretty weird seeing as how they usually got burnt in the fire of my mother’s wrath before it even enters the house. Obviously she was to drunk.
The letter had a yellow tinge to it, like it had been in the sun for way to long and got a tan like people do. Which is totally weird to say seeing how paper can’t tan.
On the front of the letter was written:
Miss M. Dae
The second Master Bedroom
184A Gamezy Court
I found it odd that there was no postcode but hey, who likes those stupid things anyway.
I turned the envelope over to find a stamp that had a lion, a raven, a badger and a serpent in a coat of arms, which sealed the envelope. Two minutes after trying to carefully pull the stamp away and failing, I ripped open the envelope and read the weird looking paper inside.
Dear Miss Ryan,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain. Please meet me, Professor McGonagall, in the entrance hall for your sorting due to the fact that you are starting fourth year, not first.
Term begins on September 1st. We will accept your owl no later than July 31st.
You will be departing from platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station at exactly 10 o’clock. Don’t be late.
Headmaster of Hogwarts
I looked at it and smiled while all the thoughts of what this letter was about ran through my head.
Mum snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Why are you standing in the doorway, and what the hell do you have in your hand!” She yelled at me from the kitchen table.
I stared at her thinking of what to say; it’s not like I could tell her the truth, she wouldn’t believe it anyway. Okay, she would believe the wizard part, but not the Hogwarts part. According to her, I wasn’t good enough to get into a school for witchcraft and wizardry. I’ll have to go to Ben if I actually wanted to get out of the country, let alone get to this school. Stupid I-need-a-servant mother.
“Girl, for god’s sake, read what’s on that letter! Or are you too illiterate to even accomplish that?” She yelled. Damn, I’m going to get a headache from this. But God... Wait, that gives me an idea.
“Dear Miss M. Dae,” I read, “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School for Psychos and Dummies in freeze-your-ass-off Britain.” I took a pause to breathe and went back to reading.
“Please find enclosed a list of all the books and equipment you will need for you first year, including How To Be Psycho for Dummies. Term Begins on September 1st. You will be departing from platform 9 ¾ because whole numbers are just not fun, at 10 o’clock exactly. 10:01 is not acceptable.
Head of heaven and
Controller of Earth.”
“How cool, God wrote me a letter, I feel so special.” I finished. I looked up at my mother with a smile on my face. She has her hands on her hips like she was mad, which was most definitely the case.
Before she could yell at me and bet me up, I ran to my room locking the door behind me, laughing my head off. I turned the music up full blast so I didn’t have to hear her screaming and tried to find my mirror underneath my bed. I had to talk to Ben about Hogwarts and how the hell I would get there.
Now, where did I put that damn two-way mirror…
If my mother even considers trying to stop me from running away to school… Actually, I’m good with just getting away to Britain. If I can’t get away I may kill someone. I really don’t want to leave all my friends behind in Australia and go to bloody freezing Britain (which I might add, is half way across the freaking WORLD!), but it’s better than staying here. If all else fails... I wonder what it would be like to get hanged...
Parts in bold have been taken from Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone, page 42 & 43 of the paperback and all credit goes to J. K. Rowling.
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