Demigod Days: Hogwarts is Real!

Chapter 1 - Drunk stepdads are bad news

Hey,
This is my first fanfic so any comments are much appreciated. Also I'm British writing a story in which lots of the main characters are American so please could you let me know if I use any Americanisms incorrectly and I'm only going to do the disclaimer every five chapters or so.
Disclaimer: All the Harry Potter stuff belongs to my queen JK Rowling,
All the demigod stuff belongs to my idol Rick Riordan
and the rest is mine.
I hope you enjoy it.
Hugs and butterfly kisses
Lupinlorna

'After all this time? Always.' I sigh deeply. A beautiful line in a perfect story. Breaking my eyes away from the page I look around my bedroom with a smile. Harry Potter posters coat the walls and film tickets are stuck on my cupboard doors, it's my safe haven. Glancing back down to the book in my hands I continue reading.

"Natalie", my stepdad's shout cuts through the peace. He sounds furious, he only ever gets this angry at me when mum's away on her night shift at the hospital. The door slams open, rattling on its hinges. "Stuck in your books again. You act like you care for them more than me," he snarls stalking towards me threateningly. What have I done this time? Would what haven't I done be a better question? "I told you to have dinner ready for when I came back but you are just useless aren't you. You are too busy reading your little magic stories," he sneered grabbing my shoulder and dragging me out of bed and onto my feet? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows falls to the floor forgotten. "If I had it my way you would be sent away to boarding school where I don't have to see you." As he forces me out of my room I can smell the alcohol in his breath. He can't have gone to work today, he's been out drinking instead. My heart feels like it is about to burst out of my chest it's beating so hard. My stepdad is always worse when he is drunk.

As he pushes me into the kitchen I wince at the sight. There is a large heap of washing up and the bin is overflowing. I planned to clean after school as well as cook dinner but I got distracted. I'm shoved to the ground and am instantly back on my feet. Inexplainable anger courses through me. What right has he to treat me like this? He is not my father and never will be? "Fine I'll make you food now Victor", I spat out his name with disgust. If anything this made him angrier. "Don't talk to me like that Natalie Wilson". He is no longer shouting. This should be a warning to me but I can't control myself any longer. "My name is not Natalie Wilson, it is Natalie Locket and you are not my dad", I shout back at him. With an animalistic roar he pounces on me, slamming my back to the wall and pinning my shoulders with his forearm. Victor has never been this violent before. He is always bad when he has been drinking and Mum's not around but has never made me feel so helpless. I struggle against his arm but how can a small, skinny ten year old overpower an anger-fuelled, adult man? Drips of cold sweat collect under my fringe. What will he do this time? Normally it is just a couple of slaps and a 'get out of my sight'. Victor reaches out with his spare hand and tugs a large chefs knife from the knife block. I slump inside, defeated. He could do anything he wanted right now and I would not even have the strength to resist. "You're useless girl", he sneers, "I bet you're father left before you were born because he has no sense of responsibility like you. You will come to nothing and once you're sixteen you're out of this house." The knife rises and I close my eyes preparing for impact.

I can hear a shrill scream as pain explodes through my forehead. All I can feel is agony and the cold blade moving jaggedly through my skin. The knife is removed and I realise that the scream is coming from me. It ends abruptly at the sound of my stepdad's voice. "There now you look like your hero. Maybe you could become part of a freak show in the future", and with that he releases me and storms out of the room, dropping the bloody knife on the floor. I collapse to the floor, breath coming out in little gasps as my hands cradle my forehead, tears mingling with the blood on my face. Eventually I find myself able to stagger to my feet and stumble up the stair to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

That girl in the mirror can't be me, she looks like she is from a horror movie. Wide eyes and pale skin, a mixture of congealing and flowing blood smeared across her face. But that is me. It is my blond fringe streaked with red, my hands that look like they have committed murder. I turn on the faucet, close my eyes and splash water on my face. It feels soothing across my forehead. I gaze down as the water flows over my hands, turning red as it goes down the plug hole. My eyes rise back up to the mirror and I sweep my hair to the side, unsure if I want to know the extent of the damage. A bolt of lightning. Victor cut a bolt of lightning into my head. Strangely enough it has already scabbed over even though it was bleeding only minutes ago and quite heavily. I scrub the rest of the blood off my face and by the time I feel clean again I have made my mind up. Tomorrow I will leave and never come back.

With my head held high I hurry to my bedroom, pulling my rucksack off the floor and onto the bed. The school books I need for tomorrow are already inside so I only have to put in what I can't leave behind. The Harry Potter books go in first including book seven which I pick up from the floor where it was dropped earlier. Lifting my Hogwarts Express money box off the shelf I shake the notes and coins onto the bed sheets. $53.27. I was saving up for a trip to the Harry Potter studios but I guess I'll never be able to see the inside of the great hall or the Knight bus. The money fills my purse and lands on top of the books. What else will I need? Of course, food. Carrying my bag down the stairs and into the kitchen I try to ignore the blood smears and weapon on the floor. After making my usual packed lunch for school I also add in a pack of cookies and a couple of cans of coke from the fridge. All ready? Not quite. I grab a pack of bandaids from the medicine cupboard, I'm my mum's girl at heart. Now I'm prepared for anything tomorrow could bring.