A/N: Well hello again. Still reading after this long? That truly is amazing.

Oh, and please excuse any opinions in this chapter about, well, everything that there's an opinion about in this chapter. It isn't necessarily true for everyone, but it is for some.

Disclaimer: Not mine. The fact that I'm disclaiming should be enough to tell you that.

Chapter 8

Some people may be wondering as they read this what the purpose of me writing down my story is. Well, the answer is simple. Though the story of my life as the Boy-Who-Lived is well documented, the life (what I feel like especially) after I fell from public favour is normally ignored, or simply brushed over as it being my own fault as to everything that I did afterwards. That just goes to show how stupid the world is. I myself am just a kid, but Merlin only knows I've been through loads.

But that is not what this part of my tale is truly about. This section is about what happened the day I got back to my Father's home for Christmas.

Christmas is supposed to be a fun time isn't it? Filled with happiness, giving and spent around family? Well you obviously don't realise what a load of bull that is. Sure, that's there sometimes, but not usually. Usually it's a time of greed, commercialisation and want, which are all terrible things.

It's like, the better a time is meant to be, the worse it actually is, but you don't care about that, do you? You probably just want me to get on with how my first Christmas with actually blood relatives went, don't you? Well, I can tell you in three words: It was total and utter crap. Okay, make that six words.

The day I got back I immediately went to my room, there being no way in high heaven, hell and limbo that I would willingly socialise with people that had tried to kill me so many times and failed (honestly, you'd think they could get it right at least once, wouldn't you?). Well, regardless of that, my father decided that he wanted to see me so he sent my favourite (kindly note the sarcasm) to fetch me. He just had to use Bellatrix Lestrange of course.

Well, what you may or may not know (I certainly haven't told you, that's for sure) is that the person who sent the curse that sent my godfather, Sirius, through a curtain (the correct term may be veil, but do you think I actually care?) which killed him (unbelievable that a curtain could cause a death, I know, but it did) was his own cousin. That cousin also happens to be one of my Father's Death Eaters, and that Death Eater happens to be Bellatrix Lestrange. I really hate her. Don't ask me why (okay, so there's the obvious reason) but I've never been able to stand her. Could be because she's a total bitch.

"Lickle baby Potter-kins," the crazy bitch giggled, calling into my room. Oh, did I forget to mention that she is genuinely insane, and it isn't just me insulting her? That's what the effects of prolonged exposure to dementers can do to a person. "Your Daddy wants to see you."

Okay, so I may hate her, but she certainly does make things slightly more interesting around the 'Death Eater Palace' (wonderful thing to call the place, don you agree?). She is, after all - being the most insane of the loonies here - the only one with the gall (besides myself) to call my father my 'daddy'. Interesting, no?

"Lestrange," I growled at her, and she just giggled. Honestly, she lacks even more sanity than Lovegood. "What does my 'Daddy', as you so eloquently put it, want?"

She smiled at me then. Gawd, she's annoying.

"Your Daddy just said he wanted to see you. I no ask Master why."

I rolled her eyes at that comment. Why my father insisted on everyone calling him 'master' or 'my lord' is beyond me. Okay, so no it isn't, but you know what I mean, right? Well, maybe you don't, since I'm not even sure myself. Hmm, maybe I'm losing what small amount of sanity I had left now.

You know, I think I heard a rumour once that my father was having an affair with her. None of it was true of course, but the rumours were still there. I think they came about because she was the only female Death Eater in the inner circle and because she was the only Death Eater my father called by a shortened version of their first name. The thought's disturbing, but I suppose I will survive, considering they were all false.

Well, anyway, I followed Lestrange, who was walking around in a kind of dream-like (maybe nightmare-like would be slightly more accurate) trance towards my father's main chambers.

I'll never understand a lot of things about my father. The main one is his fascination with the skulls of the people he had killed. Sure, I know it was a tradition in some culture way back when to drink blood from the skull of your enemy, supposedly giving yourself more power or something, but come on. We live in the twentieth century. Nowadays that kind of thing is just creepy. Cool, but still way creepy.

Well, as I've just mentioned, my father has a fascination with human skulls, but what you don't know is what his fascination is. He has literally shelves of human skulls of all sizes, complete with the lower jaw and all of the teeth, all around some of the main rooms that are used. I think he thinks it looks intimidating. Well, I'm not going to be the one to break it too him that so many of them isn't. You can if you want. Just don't let him decorate your house afterwards. Or before, for that matter.

"Cruccio," my dad hissed. For those of you that have never had the distinct pleasure of being under the cruciatus curse, or have never heard of it, let me tell you a few things about it. First off, when it hits you you feel like you are being stabbed hundreds of times with sharp, pointy and shiny knives. Then (no, the pain doesn't lessen) you wish for either to black out or to die, whichever is first. Usually, by the time you reach that point the person who cast the curse lifts it, and you have to deal with the after-effects of shaking, shivering, convulsing, sore throat, a few scratches, stuff like that. Fortunately for me, the curse wasn't kept on long enough for me to have to deal with the after effects.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" I yelled at him. Yes, I do have quite a mouth on me, don't you agree?

"That," My father said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Was for that letter you sent me back in September, and I hope it will teach you some respect."

I glowered at the man, and a few minutes of silence pass, neither of us willing to break it, when my father finally became too uncomfortable with it.

"I believe, my son," here he spat out the word 'son' like it was Bumblefuck's name. "I said I would teach you the Dark Arts to get revenge on those pathetic muggles that ended up bringing you up, something which they hardly did a good job of."

My heart leapt at the prospect of being taught the Dark Arts. Finally! I had been waiting for, how long was it? Three months? Four? It didn't matter. I had waited too long for this. I hadn't even been able to check some books out of the library at Hogwarts, because they all thought I would be using the books for my education in the Dark Arts. Stupid, paranoid, accurate bastards.

"Of course, if you're going to learn them from me," my father began, and I knew what was to come. I should have expected my father to use this as some sort of bargain. Typical conniving Slytherin. "We will learn them my way under my rules. You will show me the proper respect as your father, and you will learn when I say you learn, and you will not get expelled from Hogwarts. Got it?"

"Fine," I nodded my consent. Truth be told I was so bored with normal spells and things, that I would do just about anything to learn Dark Arts. Just about. "But I am not getting up in the early hours of the morning."

See? That's the one thing I refuse to do, along with be nice to Dumbledore, but even my father would draw the line there... right? Right?!

My father is a bloody slave driver! You may or may not know that, but he is, and it really gets on my nerves. You'd think a guy aiming for whatever my father's aiming for (world domination, or some such crap) would loosen up a bit, wouldn't you? But noooooo, he has to be an uptight bastard about, well, everything! He doesn't even relax when it's Christmas! For Marlin's sake (a phrase that greatly annoys my father, since the idea came from a muggle movie about a fish), he really need to chill out!

Now, you may be wondering what brought on this really sudden burst of hatred towards my father, considering now that's I've told you he's teaching me the Dark Arts. Well, I'll tell you. It's Christmas day, and guess what? I WAS UP AT SIX A.M. LEARNING WHAT MY FATHER CALLED 'SELF DISCIPLINE'! I don't need self discipline! I'm disciplined enough, thank you very much! Bloody bastard.

He obviously doesn't realise that on Christmas day I would rather sleep in. You know, I'm starting to regret agreeing to his terms. In fact, I'm almost starting to regret agreeing to learn the Dark Arts... Almost. I'm not quite stupid enough to, especially considering the fact that, apparently, I'm almost ready to use the Avada properly on a human - and can you guess who that human will be?

A/N: So what do you think? And sorry for the delay I was having a few problems with, uh, stuff.

Kage Mirai: That is exactly the reaction I hoped to get.

Ciara: That's probably true about the cruciatus, so alternate methods of torture will be needed... I like your idea about The Song being repeated over and over and over. That would be more than enough to send me round the bend. And the howler was delivered at breakfast. I believe what I put exactly was 'The next morning, after a couple of fights in the common room (which I didn't start, but got the blame for anyway) the previous night, I received my first ever howler' And you're just given me an idea for some of the next chapter.

ChaosDream: Thank ye very muchly!

MMockler4Tonks: Simple, he hasn't been arrested for one very simple reason: they have no evidence against him and nothing to incriminate him with the exception of his heritage.

Ciberloco: The ways to torture Harry will increase as the story goes on.

NatalieJ: But that wouldn't solve anything. Killing me directly after you sent the review if I didn't update wouldn't solve anything, as the next chapter would, kinda, fail to be written.

Aspid: Thanks! And I swear I won't write The Song down ever again... unless I can't find the teletubbies theme song!

NateP: Of course it's funny! Life is funny! Well, my life is anyway.

Silver-Entrantress-Elf, Shadowface, :P: Will do!

BalrogMan65: Yeah, I know. I'm almost considering putting Harry through the torture of watching an entire episode of the teletubbies... but that would mean accessing my repressed memories of watching the episodes when they first came on TV.

HAZZAGRIFF: Good!

borne-shadow-childe: No, I think the real reason we grow to hate kids shows is because we realise that the actual ideas and characters in them are disturbing, not a result of karma or mental trauma. I mean, come on, look at all the little kids stuff that it out there? Kids shows and kids movies too. If you think about it, most of it really is scary. Yeah, you can add me to your Yahoo friends list thingy. I kinda lack people on mine.

Crouchintiger: I thought up the Barney bit because it's part of an old running joke between me and my friends. The muggleborn kids ran out of the room because, well, I don't really know. But I do know I would.

angelkitty77: Compliments will get you everywhere!

Marvin the Depressed Robot(42 ::giggles:: Funny death threat!

HecateDeMort: I'd hoped as much.

Talis: That is a very good saying. Thanks!

ironic-humour: I'll update! I'll be good!

LadyBlackIce01: Parents are cruel.

Lady Phoenix Slytherin I'll try.

mpDemonOfDoom: Well, I don't think I've actually revealed how strong Harry is at this point yet.