Chapter 2: My Story
Once upon a time, in a bedroom, far, far away, two people, a man and a woman, where having sex after one too many and conceived me... this is a true story. The story of my life. Isn't it wonderful!!!!
Yeah.
That's how my father met my mother... in a bar, yes. The Hog's Head, actually. They had gotten drunk. Father chased after Mother for more than half the night 'till finally Mother caved in and they went and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron. They didn't expect anything out of that night, except some relief. Instead, they got ME!!! The poor bastards.
Imagine, having to raise me, pamper me, and deal with me for 18 years until they can finally consider me an adult and kick my sorry ass out of their home. They still have three more years to go before they can get rid of me, the suckers.
Anyway, that's how I was conceived. But the real story begins about 15 years after that... the day my mom died.
Yeah. She went and died on me. I didn't want her to, but she went ahead and did it anyway. And right in front of my eyes, too. The doctors said that the experience kind of messed my head up more than it was before. Said I'm showing signs of some sort of psychosis... I don't really see it, but I guess that's why we have doctors because we don't really see anything. My dad's in denial, I think. I accept what the doctors say and I secretly take the little blue pills they prescribed for me. I have to go and buy them with my money because dad doesn't believe that I am a psycho, or whatever, and therefore I don't need "them goddamn horse pills."
Yes, pills. The things muggles use to cure, help, or fight against various illnesses and diseases.
You see, at the time that Voldemort, yes I call him by his 'name'. I think it's just stupid how people call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named. Just stupid. And I tell them that, too. Made quite a few faces frown and quake, both in annoyance that I didn't uphold the fear of superstition kind of bullshit and in fear that I was going to somehow call him to me like some 'real-life' version of Candy-man.
... Sorry, I tend to get a little side-tracked in everything I talk about.
Anyway, way-back-when, my mom and dad got the feeling that it was a bit too dangerous to have and raise a kid in this kind of place. What, with people going missing and people being tortured and killed (not to mention what happened to the muggles around there!!), who wouldn't think that it was just a little bit dangerous. So, being one of the smarter people, they got up off their asses and hauled it right out of there as fast as they could get out. And halfway there I got bit seasick (I was in my mom's tummy at the time, you see), so I decided it about time to make myself known to the world... my mom gave birth to me a short while before they landed. One of the muggle sailors said it was something that I was born on the sea. Some sort of superstition. Anyway, all I know is that all that sea water really did something to me while I was on it... wasn't really what my parents expected a baby to be. For one, I was a quiet little fucker, and when they used to sit me up, I would just look at them with my eyes, not ever moving my head.
I gave them the creeps that what I did. Once, I had heard them talking about how being born on the sea must have messed with my head or something... my auntie thinks that I'm some sort of 'empty vessel possessed by the devil'... her exact words. Can't you just feel the love????
Anyway, anyway... I'm getting side-tracked, again. So I'll make this short.
Because of the rise of the ever scary Lord Voldemort, my mom and dad moved out of there and headed to Canada... yes, Canada. I'm a peacekeeper!!! Well, not anymore.
Ever since mom kicked the bucket dad couldn't handle her death and the fact that he would have to raise me all by his lonesome. So, being the ever considerate dad, we hauled it back out of Canada and right in the thick of what he and mom had been trying to run away from, from the beginning. Lord Voldemort.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I do believe that he is resurrected and back in action. He's like the freakin' anti-Christ for fuck's sakes. You can't get rid of him just by rebounding the 'killing curse' at him.
He's got to have a spectacular demise. Something I doubt that the skinny little shrimp for a hero we have, would ever be able to give to the freak bastard Voldemort.
Yeah, I know about Harry Potter. On the way back to London, my dad spilled the beans and told me all about the magic world and that I was actually a pureblood witch. From a French family actually. Ancient family, according to dad. Well, whatever I said to him. As long as I get taught some real nasty spells and hexes, I'll be happy.
He had already taught me quite a few of the more nastier hexes he knew. The numerous water rats in the storage hold of the ship where used for practise. I'm still wondering what the sailors are saying to explain the skinned, exploded and totally mutilated rats that where found there on the day we hit shore. I don't know. Don't really care.
We live, right know with my dad's family. His mom and dad. He has three brothers and a sister. One of the brothers is dead, killed by the Dark Lord... you know, that is such a stupid name, but I guess it's also a name to be proud of. I would be if I had it... wouldn't be 'lord', though, would it???
The other two brothers and the one sister live a bit away from the family house. Another one of the brother's was, umm, what's that word???
......
Anyway, grandmother and grandfather kicked him out for marrying a muggle... I learned that they are very strict about the whole pureblood thing. They kind of look down on dad for taking me and mom to go live in Canada as muggles. They're peeved at him but granny (she told me to call her that) granny said that they would forgive him soon anyway.
I also have to call my granddad, 'grampy'... pretty stupid, huh??? Oh well, if it's what they want I'll indulge the old farts. They're pretty cool. As soon as I stepped foot into the huge ass mansion thing of theirs they were gushing all over me and my brother.
Oh yeah, and did I mention I have a brother???
I didn't.
Oh well, I have a younger brother, at any rate. I would say smaller, but I'd be fibbin'. He's almost a foot taller than me and I'm four years older than him. It sucks I know but that way he takes care of me if anyone is bothering me. I don't really need it because I'm pretty good at all that self defence bullshit and I had a reputation of being one mean scrapper. But most of the time I don't feel like dealing with fighting or whatever bullshit the other people want to do, so I just get my brother to deal with it... that kid has really got a violence thing going on, he loves to cause people pain. Sometimes even me if I cause him grief. Lately, though, after I witness mom's murder and all that he's been like my watchdog or something, pushing people away if they so much as got too close to me.
Not that I'm complaining or anything, I'm not. I feel real loved. Yup, yup. Dad, granny, Grampy and lil' big bro are really laying on the whole spoiling and comforting. Just yesterday I was just sitting in my awesome bedroom that granny and Grampy decorated for me (it's all old-time Goth- style... it's really cool, I love it!!!) and all of a sudden my bro comes in and tells me we're going to relaxing and stuff in the family room... I figured it was supposed to be a family thing, so I went with no complaint.
When we got into the living room, I looked around. Granny was sitting in an old oak rocking chair, knitting god knows what. Grampy and dad where playing chess on one of those wizard chess things... I really want to learn how to play that shit!!! Anyway, I was looking around and all of a sudden I go and blurt out, "Where's mom?"
Everything kind of stopped.
Granny's knitting needle stopped it's continuous whirling, Grampy and dad looked like a still-life photograph and bro kind of gasped beside me.
I guess I looked stricken and about to cry at that moment... because I sure felt like I was going to. And that's what happened. It was gradual though. I really tried not to cry... I had cried enough that night alone, I didn't want to go through that again. But as soon as I sniffled, Granny had jumped up from her rocking chair and was holding me close to her breast.
That just got me going.
Real soon I was just bawling. Everyone else scurried around, fluffing pillows, ordering the house-elves to get some hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, and just trying to comfort me.
Soon I was one the big comfy couch that was in front of the fireplace, leaning against Granny and holding on to her like a lifeline...
And in a way I was.
I was experiencing, what me and mom had dubbed, "Death's Blanket." We called it that because it was kind of like I was being surrounded by this real thick blanket. You know, those kind that are real comforting but could smother you if you got tangled in it??? Like that. But this wasn't your ordinary blanket, no sir. This blanket was just darkness and it comes at me at the corner's of my eyes. I get the feeling that it's supposed to be comforting but for some reason it just scares the shit out of me. And the darkness just keeps coming and pretty soon all I could see was Granny's face. It feels as though the darkness was suffocating me, like the less I could see the less air I had, and pretty soon all I could see was Granny's face in front of me and my hands in fists grasping at the front of her shirt. Granny's face was crinkled in concern and near-panic, but I could see that she didn't stop talking to me, not once did she stop... just the way mom always did when I went through this. I focused on Granny's face and tried with all my might to listen to her words, just the way I did with mom. And I listened so closely and soon I could tell that she wasn't talking, she was singing.
After a while I could hear her words:
"Hold on to me, love You know I can't stay long All I wanted to say was I love you And I'm not afraid
Can you hear me? Can you feel me in your arms?
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
I'll miss the winter A world of fragile peace Look for me in the white forest Hiding in a hollow tree
I know you hear me I can taste it in your tears
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Closing your eyes to disappear You pray your dreams will leave you here But still you wake and know the truth No ones there
Say goodnight Don't be afraid Calling me Calling me As you fade to black
Say goodnight Don't be afraid Calling me Calling me Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Holding my last breathe..."
By the end of the song, I wasn't gasping and choking on the air. I had long since stopped crying but I continued to look at Granny's face and still clung to her. It was all that kept the blanket from wrapping around me.
I stayed there until I fell asleep. I'm small, not even 5 feet tall, and the time I was starved at the hands of mom's murderer's got rid of my excess fat on my frame... I used to think I was big boned but apparently I was just fat. I used to weigh 130 pounds now I barely weigh 90 pounds. So it wasn't much work for either my dad or bro to carry off to my bed and tuck me in until the morning sun crept in and woke me from my crying induced sleep.
That was one my more better sleeps I had in a while... and it would be one of the last I would have in quite while.
Once upon a time, in a bedroom, far, far away, two people, a man and a woman, where having sex after one too many and conceived me... this is a true story. The story of my life. Isn't it wonderful!!!!
Yeah.
That's how my father met my mother... in a bar, yes. The Hog's Head, actually. They had gotten drunk. Father chased after Mother for more than half the night 'till finally Mother caved in and they went and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron. They didn't expect anything out of that night, except some relief. Instead, they got ME!!! The poor bastards.
Imagine, having to raise me, pamper me, and deal with me for 18 years until they can finally consider me an adult and kick my sorry ass out of their home. They still have three more years to go before they can get rid of me, the suckers.
Anyway, that's how I was conceived. But the real story begins about 15 years after that... the day my mom died.
Yeah. She went and died on me. I didn't want her to, but she went ahead and did it anyway. And right in front of my eyes, too. The doctors said that the experience kind of messed my head up more than it was before. Said I'm showing signs of some sort of psychosis... I don't really see it, but I guess that's why we have doctors because we don't really see anything. My dad's in denial, I think. I accept what the doctors say and I secretly take the little blue pills they prescribed for me. I have to go and buy them with my money because dad doesn't believe that I am a psycho, or whatever, and therefore I don't need "them goddamn horse pills."
Yes, pills. The things muggles use to cure, help, or fight against various illnesses and diseases.
You see, at the time that Voldemort, yes I call him by his 'name'. I think it's just stupid how people call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named. Just stupid. And I tell them that, too. Made quite a few faces frown and quake, both in annoyance that I didn't uphold the fear of superstition kind of bullshit and in fear that I was going to somehow call him to me like some 'real-life' version of Candy-man.
... Sorry, I tend to get a little side-tracked in everything I talk about.
Anyway, way-back-when, my mom and dad got the feeling that it was a bit too dangerous to have and raise a kid in this kind of place. What, with people going missing and people being tortured and killed (not to mention what happened to the muggles around there!!), who wouldn't think that it was just a little bit dangerous. So, being one of the smarter people, they got up off their asses and hauled it right out of there as fast as they could get out. And halfway there I got bit seasick (I was in my mom's tummy at the time, you see), so I decided it about time to make myself known to the world... my mom gave birth to me a short while before they landed. One of the muggle sailors said it was something that I was born on the sea. Some sort of superstition. Anyway, all I know is that all that sea water really did something to me while I was on it... wasn't really what my parents expected a baby to be. For one, I was a quiet little fucker, and when they used to sit me up, I would just look at them with my eyes, not ever moving my head.
I gave them the creeps that what I did. Once, I had heard them talking about how being born on the sea must have messed with my head or something... my auntie thinks that I'm some sort of 'empty vessel possessed by the devil'... her exact words. Can't you just feel the love????
Anyway, anyway... I'm getting side-tracked, again. So I'll make this short.
Because of the rise of the ever scary Lord Voldemort, my mom and dad moved out of there and headed to Canada... yes, Canada. I'm a peacekeeper!!! Well, not anymore.
Ever since mom kicked the bucket dad couldn't handle her death and the fact that he would have to raise me all by his lonesome. So, being the ever considerate dad, we hauled it back out of Canada and right in the thick of what he and mom had been trying to run away from, from the beginning. Lord Voldemort.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I do believe that he is resurrected and back in action. He's like the freakin' anti-Christ for fuck's sakes. You can't get rid of him just by rebounding the 'killing curse' at him.
He's got to have a spectacular demise. Something I doubt that the skinny little shrimp for a hero we have, would ever be able to give to the freak bastard Voldemort.
Yeah, I know about Harry Potter. On the way back to London, my dad spilled the beans and told me all about the magic world and that I was actually a pureblood witch. From a French family actually. Ancient family, according to dad. Well, whatever I said to him. As long as I get taught some real nasty spells and hexes, I'll be happy.
He had already taught me quite a few of the more nastier hexes he knew. The numerous water rats in the storage hold of the ship where used for practise. I'm still wondering what the sailors are saying to explain the skinned, exploded and totally mutilated rats that where found there on the day we hit shore. I don't know. Don't really care.
We live, right know with my dad's family. His mom and dad. He has three brothers and a sister. One of the brothers is dead, killed by the Dark Lord... you know, that is such a stupid name, but I guess it's also a name to be proud of. I would be if I had it... wouldn't be 'lord', though, would it???
The other two brothers and the one sister live a bit away from the family house. Another one of the brother's was, umm, what's that word???
......
Anyway, grandmother and grandfather kicked him out for marrying a muggle... I learned that they are very strict about the whole pureblood thing. They kind of look down on dad for taking me and mom to go live in Canada as muggles. They're peeved at him but granny (she told me to call her that) granny said that they would forgive him soon anyway.
I also have to call my granddad, 'grampy'... pretty stupid, huh??? Oh well, if it's what they want I'll indulge the old farts. They're pretty cool. As soon as I stepped foot into the huge ass mansion thing of theirs they were gushing all over me and my brother.
Oh yeah, and did I mention I have a brother???
I didn't.
Oh well, I have a younger brother, at any rate. I would say smaller, but I'd be fibbin'. He's almost a foot taller than me and I'm four years older than him. It sucks I know but that way he takes care of me if anyone is bothering me. I don't really need it because I'm pretty good at all that self defence bullshit and I had a reputation of being one mean scrapper. But most of the time I don't feel like dealing with fighting or whatever bullshit the other people want to do, so I just get my brother to deal with it... that kid has really got a violence thing going on, he loves to cause people pain. Sometimes even me if I cause him grief. Lately, though, after I witness mom's murder and all that he's been like my watchdog or something, pushing people away if they so much as got too close to me.
Not that I'm complaining or anything, I'm not. I feel real loved. Yup, yup. Dad, granny, Grampy and lil' big bro are really laying on the whole spoiling and comforting. Just yesterday I was just sitting in my awesome bedroom that granny and Grampy decorated for me (it's all old-time Goth- style... it's really cool, I love it!!!) and all of a sudden my bro comes in and tells me we're going to relaxing and stuff in the family room... I figured it was supposed to be a family thing, so I went with no complaint.
When we got into the living room, I looked around. Granny was sitting in an old oak rocking chair, knitting god knows what. Grampy and dad where playing chess on one of those wizard chess things... I really want to learn how to play that shit!!! Anyway, I was looking around and all of a sudden I go and blurt out, "Where's mom?"
Everything kind of stopped.
Granny's knitting needle stopped it's continuous whirling, Grampy and dad looked like a still-life photograph and bro kind of gasped beside me.
I guess I looked stricken and about to cry at that moment... because I sure felt like I was going to. And that's what happened. It was gradual though. I really tried not to cry... I had cried enough that night alone, I didn't want to go through that again. But as soon as I sniffled, Granny had jumped up from her rocking chair and was holding me close to her breast.
That just got me going.
Real soon I was just bawling. Everyone else scurried around, fluffing pillows, ordering the house-elves to get some hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, and just trying to comfort me.
Soon I was one the big comfy couch that was in front of the fireplace, leaning against Granny and holding on to her like a lifeline...
And in a way I was.
I was experiencing, what me and mom had dubbed, "Death's Blanket." We called it that because it was kind of like I was being surrounded by this real thick blanket. You know, those kind that are real comforting but could smother you if you got tangled in it??? Like that. But this wasn't your ordinary blanket, no sir. This blanket was just darkness and it comes at me at the corner's of my eyes. I get the feeling that it's supposed to be comforting but for some reason it just scares the shit out of me. And the darkness just keeps coming and pretty soon all I could see was Granny's face. It feels as though the darkness was suffocating me, like the less I could see the less air I had, and pretty soon all I could see was Granny's face in front of me and my hands in fists grasping at the front of her shirt. Granny's face was crinkled in concern and near-panic, but I could see that she didn't stop talking to me, not once did she stop... just the way mom always did when I went through this. I focused on Granny's face and tried with all my might to listen to her words, just the way I did with mom. And I listened so closely and soon I could tell that she wasn't talking, she was singing.
After a while I could hear her words:
"Hold on to me, love You know I can't stay long All I wanted to say was I love you And I'm not afraid
Can you hear me? Can you feel me in your arms?
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
I'll miss the winter A world of fragile peace Look for me in the white forest Hiding in a hollow tree
I know you hear me I can taste it in your tears
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Closing your eyes to disappear You pray your dreams will leave you here But still you wake and know the truth No ones there
Say goodnight Don't be afraid Calling me Calling me As you fade to black
Say goodnight Don't be afraid Calling me Calling me Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Holding my last breathe Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you Sweet raptured life It ends here tonight
Holding my last breathe..."
By the end of the song, I wasn't gasping and choking on the air. I had long since stopped crying but I continued to look at Granny's face and still clung to her. It was all that kept the blanket from wrapping around me.
I stayed there until I fell asleep. I'm small, not even 5 feet tall, and the time I was starved at the hands of mom's murderer's got rid of my excess fat on my frame... I used to think I was big boned but apparently I was just fat. I used to weigh 130 pounds now I barely weigh 90 pounds. So it wasn't much work for either my dad or bro to carry off to my bed and tuck me in until the morning sun crept in and woke me from my crying induced sleep.
That was one my more better sleeps I had in a while... and it would be one of the last I would have in quite while.