Harry Potter : Years 1-7 Pt 1

CHAPTER 1: HOGWART LETTER ARRIVES

Caitlin's Prov

I woke up to the sunlight burning it's way through the curtains and into my eyes. I didn't want to get up, I wanted to stay in bed and sleep for a few more hours but I know I had to otherwise I was going to be in trouble later. I sighed as I pull the blue colored blanket off me letting out small annoyance groan as I pushed myself off the bed and made my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Once that was done I walked over to my drawers, pulled out some clothes and got changed. I threw on a white singlet, some black jeans with some black flats.

I walked over to my small mirror on top of my drawers and started to brush my long crimson red hair(I know it's a weird color to be born with but I liked it even though some people made fun of me because of it) tying it into a quick ponytail letting my parted fringe hand on the right hand side with some of my front hair hanging down both sides of my face. I picked up and put on my necklace that I've had ever since I was born, I quickly look at it before lifting the top of my singlet a bit so my top could hide the pendent that was on the chain before opening my door and headed downstairs to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast before my parents wake up.

Oh yea sure you'd think it's nice that a daughter is cooking breakfast for her parents because she loves them and such..well sorry to say if you thought that then you are wrong. In fact it's the exact opposite. There is no love in this family, hell I'm not even treated like a proper daughter more like a maid then anything... just then my father Harold came plopping down the stairs as I finished cooking up the beacon "Hurry up and make me a coffee you stupid little girl" he says "yes dad" i reply as i switch off the stove and start to plate up the breakfast before grabbing 2 mugs from the cupboard and began pouring the coffee and tea knowing mum's going to demand one so better get that ready.

If just on cue my mum walks in with her purple robe wrapped around her and her dark black hair done in a messed up bun. I look at her from the corner of my eye to find her facing me, hands on hips and a really mean scrawl on her face, I've grown up long enough to know what that look means and it means that she's not happy. "You stupid little bitch, what have you done with my french del'e amor necklace?!" (A/N:Idk I just made it up) she says yelling at me, I turned to look at her "I don't know, I've never touched it" I responded back but i can tell she doesn't believe me, she never really does. "You lying little shit, i know you've gone and done something with it, now where is it!?" " I swear I don't know" she storms over to where I am and slaps me really hard on the cheek sending me to the ground a bit holding my left cheek.

"BULLSHIT!" She screams as she leans down and grabs me by the hair pulling me up (which by the way really hurts) so I meet her eyes that are full of hatred "I'm warning you right now. If I find my necklace to be in your possession, you better watch out!" i gulp as she says it cause I know full well that she means it. She throws me into the kitchen bench letting go of my hair in the process. My back collides with the pointy part of the counter sending a stab of pain through me which sends me to the floor as the pots and pans that were hanging on the side of the kitchen wall come crashing down on me as I curl up and use my arms to protect my head from the hard metal falling impacts.

My mother just huffs and turns on her heels to grab both her and dads drinks walking over to the table to place his coffee in front of him. I slowly push myself up off the floor using the bench to help support me as I turn to see my so called mom approach my dad yet again note that they're not even fazed at the fact that I'm hurt "Morning honey, how are you?" she says giving him a quick kiss on the lips "Fabulous my dear Sophie, you look beautiful today by the way" he says touching her hand as she sits down "Oh thank you my darling" she says as they continue to have a conversation. I want to cry but I hold back my tears so I don't give them any satisfaction as I quickly grab their plates, placing them on the table and walk back into the kitchen to pick up the fallen pots and pans.