The Real Dark Lord
Chapter One

I was lonely as a child, with no brothers or sisters to play with and a father that hated me it was no wonder...

My mother was a witch as I found out, though my father denies it. He told me she died giving birth to me and blamed me for her death, he never forgave me and took every chance to remind me of that fact.

He used to be something, we used to be rich, you wouldn't know it but we had a big mansion, a posh car and lived in luxury. My mother adored the finer things in life and my father would give it to her, nothing was too grand. That was until my mother died.
My father gave up, decided it wasn't worth it, he resigned from his job and sold the house.

Now he lives as a slob, leaving his mess for me to pick up whilst enduring harsh words and occasional beatings from him, just for the hell of it. That was, until my 11th birthday.

I awoke to piercing sunlight shining through my gritty curtains and after a few moments I realised the date, the 18th of May. It was my 11th birthday, I sighed, another year, another day of cleaning up after my father. I could expect no presents, no kind words or wishes, just sweeping around my dozing father. I stretched and slowly got up, I wasn't looking forward to the pitiful existence I had had to get used too. Then my fathers drunken voice came flying up the stairs.

"Cally, get your useless backside out of bed! There's a letter down here for you, once you're done with that, I want my breakfast! NOW!"

I got up and marched down the stairs, a letter, that was unexpected. Maybe I had a long lost relative that was going to whisk me away from this place, well, I could hope. It seemed to be the only thing that kept me going in this dingy place.

I got to the bottom of the stairs and there was a letter on the shelf by the front door addressed to me, cautiously (I was almost afraid it would disappear), I picked it up and looked over the envelope. In very neat writing on the front was my name and address, but there where no postage stamps in sight.

"Cally, there's a bloody owl on the window sill, get me my gun, you can make my tea with it tonight, come on girl hurry it'll fly away!" Shouted my father.

Oh god. I thought, as I hurried in the living room I tried to make myself as big as possible hoping that as I walked past the window it would fly away. Instead it just sat there hooting away at itself, as I picked up the gun and handed it too my father, the owl seemed to realise something was wrong and took off.

Thank goodness, I thought to myself.

"Damn it, owls make damn good eating. I was hoping it was stupid you see, being as it were out in the daytime and all that." Sighed my father, he never used to talk like that; he used to talk as though he ruled the world, every word pronounced correctly, no slang or short words, not now though, not ever again.
He continued to drink his beer as though nothing had happened.

It was rather strange I guess, I thought as I put the gun back behind the cabinet, but I turned my attention to more pressing matters, my letter.

Dear Miss Chase,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely.

Armando Dippet,
Headmaster

What a joke, I thought; some people have such a weird sense of humour.
Without a second thought, I tossed it into the rubbish and forgot about it.

I was sitting up in my room thinking a couple of days later when my father's shouts broke through my thoughts.

"Cally! There's more letters for you!"

He sounded surprised.

And so was I, there at the foot of the stairs, in front of the door was a small mountain of letters, all addressed to me in the same neat script. I read one and it held the same information that the previous one had. I ripped the all up and tossed them into the rubbish again, someone really needs to get a hobby if this is all they can do for fun.