A/N: bites lip nervously OK. Please don't hurt me. Remember—senior in college, trying to graduate over here! AND trying to juggle three stories at once on here! Lol so cut me some slack…
Alright, I actually had a real point to make here…WARNING: I just wanted to mention that rape is talked about in this chapter, but in a comical sort of way…just making a mockery of the Mary Sue –type rape situations you get in stories…soooo….sigh not trying to be insensitive or horrible in any way…so please don't get offended. I feel that it may be inevitable that I will offend someone out there…possibly a rape victim or someone who knows a rape victim…but that's definitely not my intention. I am NOT making light of rape…just the scenario in a typical Mary Sue context.
And ok...I know this chapter's short...again. But I swear, I'm slowly (yes, very slowly...lol) working towards the meatier chapters!
My Childhood
I grew up in a rather wealthy suburb of St. Louis, Missouri in the United States. My father is a muggle doctor, and my mother is a witch. She used to be a healer, but when she became infatuated with my dad and married him, she quit her work, realizing that his income was more than enough to support a family. And it was. We were quite well off financially, and my parents bought me everything that my heart desired—clothes, a pink bicycle, a doll house that was furnished as luxuriously as our own house was—I had everything that a girl could wish for in the material sense. One thing I was lacking, however, was love. I am convinced that my parents cared nothing for me and still don't. And I personally feel that it was this particular aspect of my life that truly influenced my personality. Because of the lack of affection I received as a child, I grew up to never desire it—despite the great amount I have always received wherever I go. I find it rather unnerving actually, by the amount of attention I get from my fellow students and professors—particularly of men. Some of my female friends (who are of course in my house and year—I would never dream of befriending anyone who didn't share a dormitory with me) suspect that it is because of my looks. I cannot deny this theory, but at the same time I feel as though there is something more that drives the overabundance of attention that I so often receive. Perhaps by delving into the depths of my past I may be able to discover what that 'something' is about me.
Negligence on the part of parents seems to be punishment enough for a single individual to endure, yet I have another qualm that I must regrettably share about my past. In addition to hoarding all their time and love for themselves, my parents would often physically abuse me—particularly my father. You see, they were very fond of alcohol. Everything—from the finest muggle and wizard champagnes, to the cheapest liquors that are only found in seedy pubs—they enjoyed it. Oftentimes a little too much, to a point where I became victim of their drunken violence that would always result from their frequent binges. I still have nightmares about the terrible nights I had as a child, waking up to my parents coming home in the early hours of the morning, bringing in the filthy stench of whatever pub or party they had been attending. I would bolt up and out of bed, racing to the door to make sure they were alright, only to receive a forceful push from my father that would always sending me hurdling towards the wall, saying "Of course everything's alright, you thickheaded twit with braids! Go back to bed!" And if I didn't get out of their sight fast enough, I would endure even more shoving and often a few hexes at the hand of my mother.
The last tribulation that I care to share from my childhood, as mentioned in my introduction was becoming a victim of rape at the young and impressionable age of ten. My attacker was Lucius Malfoy, a wizard made famous not only in Great Britain, but back in the United States as well. The wizarding community in the states, of course, is rather small, and foreign wizards, particularly those associated with the ministry, have always been held with much regard—Lucius included. He was and still is a man of large fortune, dwarfing the wealth of my own father. My mother, too, was quick to notice this, and was later discovered to be having an affair with the man. Not long after, my father had found out, and set out looking for Malfoy and my mother while they were on one of their escapades. I had been left home alone, which by the age of ten, was perfectly normal for me. On this particular evening, Malfoy came crashing through my bedroom window on his broom—and I was most surprised to see my mother riding with him, clutching hard to his waist and looking thoroughly frightened. She was wearing a long, lavender dressing gown that hugged the beautiful curves that I had managed to inherit from her. She hopped off Lucius's broom, and for a moment I thought that perhaps he was dropping her off, possibly feeling guilty about his affair. But then he too jumped off his broom—a sleek, new Nimbus 1000—and tossed it onto my bed.
"This must be your daughter…" I remember him saying to my mother, though he kept his eyes on me. And before I knew it, Lucius had stupefied my mother and soon had heaved me onto my bed, throwing himself on top of me.
And then it happened. The details of my encounter with Lucius Malfoy are still fresh in my mind six years later, and I find myself completely incapable of writing them down. It simply pains me too much to relieve the memory of that horrible man doing things to me that only a savage beast would do to an innocent child. All I can say on the matter is that it happened—most arbitrarily too, I might add. To this day I do not know why Lucius Malfoy did what he did. Was it to avenge my father? Maybe even my mother? He had hexed her, after all…perhaps he was simply using her in their affair, and by stealing my virtue he felt he had maximized the damage incurred on my family. But then the question would arise, why would he want to hurt my family? To my knowledge, we had never even been remotely associated with him or anyone in his family. Yet this is just another infinite, vicious and completely empty circle in my past—so many things, it seems, are completely unaccounted for in my life. Another disparagement from my critics, I know—so many loopholes in my past—but I ask you, my dear readers, what is one supposed to do in such a situation? I think it is only fair to assume that I could hardly confront Mr. Malfoy, demanding for some explanation as to why he committed such iniquitous crimes against my family. Nor could I ever consult my parents on the matter. In fact, almost immediately after the fateful night, I found myself packing to go to England, in order to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—an anecdote that I will recount further on. I have spoken minimally with my parents since, as they only prove to be an interference in the life I prefer to live—spending weeks at a time with various friends and/or lovers, or in the company of Professor Albus Dumbledore, a dear old man who has come to mean much to me as a friend and mentor.
In light of all the physical and verbal mistreatment I have received in my childhood, many of my critics often wonder how someone such as my self can rise out of such a dysfunctional family to become the immaculate figure that I am. I believe that my ability to overcome the trials I have faced in life is due to the strength of mind and character that I undoubtedly possess. How else can one explain how—after being so sadistically violated at such a young age—could I not be uncomfortable having sexual relations with men? It only makes sense that I was fortunate enough to have inner and outer strength of such high caliber, that I would be able to overcome the most trying situations a young girl could ever face.
Now, as mentioned previously, almost immediately after being violated at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, I was shipped to Great Britain to begin my magical education. At the time, I had been completely shaken up by the incident, and could not stand to be anywhere near the place where my purity had been tainted. Why, one may ask, did I go to Great Britain, where the odious man himself has always resided? Again, a rather arbitrary move made in the course of my short life. I sometimes like to think that I subconsciously knew that Hogwarts was in my destiny. After all, it is the place of action. Lord Voldemort went there. Harry Potter goes there. The late Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster there. There is always something going on at that school, and it is only natural that I should retain close proximity to it. Additionally, it is the place that I had countless, torrid love affairs which obviously could never have happened if I had remained in the States.
Additionally, Professor Dumbledore had sent me a letter, inviting me to the school. Yes, I was only ten; and yes, the cut-off age for entering students has always been eleven. However, Dumbledore was an extremely intelligent man who had felt my potential, and sent me my letter a year early. Despite my knowing that I would be moving geographically closer to Lucius Malfoy, I could not help but feel a rush of excitement at the possibilities of moving miles away from my family, starting a new life. I decided to make the sacrifice and take a chance, accepting my invitation to attend the legendary Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, thus beginning a whole new phase in my life as I entered a whole new world.
