I was always one for good, but they tried to call me Cloudy. I was always the one who hated the evil to which I'd been forced to stoop, but they taught me Dark Magic. Hogwarts has become a source of darkness, not of light, with the Dark Lord himself as headmaster.
Of course, I'm nine, so I don't know much about Hogwarts School of Darkness and Evil. But the Dark Lord also happens to be my father.
I'm pretty mad about that.
But this is my life, I guess. Yet they call me Cloudy to show darkness. I hate this new world. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, which Voldemort won, Harry Potter has been known as dead, and Draco Malfoy has been Deputy Head.
I'm at home right now, in the house of Francesca LaDramea, the most evil woman in the world and my mother. I always have called her Ms. LaDramea or something else of that sort instead of Mum, mainly because she's so evil.
"Cloudy!" she yells to wake me. "Breakfast!"
In the LaDramea household, breakfast is not a meal. It's a time when Ms. LaDramea reads from the printout of some story where Voldemort lost, then from the Book of Truth. I secretly smuggled a collection of printouts of legends where Voldemort lost.
Now, on the Book of Truth. It's a horrible book written by my father. He gave himself the last name "LaDramea" to signify drama that was stirred up by some Life Dementors, as the rebels call themselves. The Book of Truth is all about Voldemort's being perfect.
I'm secretly a Life Dementor.
When I was five, I said I wanted to join them. Voldemort force-fed me poison. Well, not the real kind, but the kind to make me hallucinate slugs.
Ugh. I hate slugs.
Anyway, I listen to the Book of Truth. It's as horrific as always, and we've come to the part where Molly Weasley, a Life Dementor, gets thrown into Azkaban when Voldemort barges in.
"Cloudy, you need to study," he barks. I'm almost glad I got stuck with him because he's Head of Hogwarts, so it's practice.
I groan. This will be a long day.