"Crucio!" Bellatrix yelled, laughing at my attempts to choke back the tears that were quickly forming in my eyes.
"Stop, please stop!" I cried in agony, writhing on the floor, my body feeling like it was burning. Mother laughed maniacally again and increased the intensity of her curse, enjoying the power she had over me, waiting for the screams. She got her wish a few seconds later as she sent yet more Dark magic through her arm and into her wand. I couldn't help it. I screamed.
"P-please stop," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. Then everything turned black.

By the time I'd regained consciousness, Mother had left. I was sitting in the corner of my room — well, I say room; really it was the smallest dungeon cell in the basement of Malfoy Manor. It had one "window" (which was really just a fairly small hole with bars over it) at the top of the wall on the right side. It allowed a little light into the room, but it also meant that bugs and dirt were forever coming in. The rest of the walls were just stone, and the door was made of iron. It was always kept locked, although I knew the spell to unlock it. I also knew that there were many spells in place around this room to only allow those with a Dark Mark the ability to apparate in or out, to stop sound from being heard from outside of the Manor, and a lot more.

I sighed. Why had I been born if all I would know was hatred and pain? If my father, Lord Voldemort, the most feared dark wizard in the world, didn't want me, then surely he would have killed me by now. I wished for the millionth time that I was allowed to go to Hogwarts. I was thirteen, and a witch, but my father had refused to let me go when my letter came before, and I knew why: it was full of Mudbloods and blood-traitors. I didn't see what could be so bad about them; I mean, they were still witches and wizards, despite their heritage or beliefs.

My father's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"IVORY FERALI RIDDLE, COME HERE RIGHT NOW!"
"I'm in for some trouble now," I whispered to myself, before rushing up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest, wondering what was going to happen. "Y-yes, Father?" I asked, trying to avoid eye contact with the Death Eaters that were stood around the edge of the room.

"It has come to my attention that you, Ivory Riddle, have been skipping your lessons with your tutor."
"Please Father, I-I can explain—"
"Silence!"
I fell silent at once, flinching as he shouted at me, well aware of what he could do if he got too angry.
"As a punishment," he continued, "you will not have any meals for a week. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," I whispered, keeping my petrified eyes on the yew wand in his hand. I had leaned to fear that wand; it had tortured and murdered hundreds — if not thousands — of witches and wizards, many in front of my eyes.

"Go. Bella will see you tomorrow about some extra... tutoring."
At these words I heard a few of the Death Eaters chuckle, but one glare from my father silenced them immediately. I turned and walked away, wondering in terror what this extra tutoring my mother was going to give me would be. From the reaction of the Death Eaters, it couldn't be anything good.