The next few days passed so fast that I barely even had time to register the cuts and bruises I was getting, and before I knew it, the first of September had arrived. I woke up earlier than usual that morning, my excitement almost overwhelming - so much so, in fact, that I could hardly feel how hungry I was, even though I was now just a couple of days away from the end of my two week ban from eating.

Tempus, I thought, moving my index finger in a clockwise circle. Glowing numbers appeared in the air, telling me it was 4:25am.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I grabbed my purse from its hiding place and climbed into it, making sure to set up a spell so I'd know if anyone approached my 'room'. After taking the numerous potions I needed to keep my hunger more or less at bay, and checking I had everything on my Hogwarts equipment list for what must've been the hundredth time since my trip to Diagon Alley, I went into my library to start my daily training.

On my return from Diagon Alley, I'd realised that there was big problem with Father only wanting me to learn wandless magic - I couldn't actually do the spells I knew if I was using a wand. Even the simplest spells, like lumos, alohomora, and wingardium leviosa, had taken me a bit of practice to get right, and I still found all of the more complex spells impossible with a wand. So, in addition to my work on the Patronus Charm, I'd been trying to learn the correct wand movements for the spells I used most often, as well as all of the spells I knew I would've been taught if I'd attended Hogwarts for the first two years.

I spent a while practicing using my wand, getting increasingly frustrated as I failed to cast fairly simple spells over and over again. I'd been trained in magic since I was three, and yet I was failing to do what a thirteen-year-old Muggleborn would find easy. It was pathetic!

To try and calm myself down, I decided to switch to practicing the Patronus Charm. I put my wand down on the nearest table, held out my hand in front of me, and focused on Father telling me I was going to Hogwarts, and the trip to Diagon Alley that had resulted.

Expecto patronum! I thought, flicking my wrist.

And finally, after weeks of practice, from my outstretched fingertips burst not a formless, misty shield, but an animal, shining an almost blinding silver. I squinted, trying to see what it was. It took me longer than I care to admit, but eventually I worked it out - it was a puppy! I watched, entranced, as it chased its tail round and round in circles, then faded from existence as the effort of keeping it there became too much for me.

"I did it," I said softly, not quite believing it. "I - I actually did it!"

A wave of exhaustion flooded over me, and I quickly stumbled to my potion shelves, grabbed an Invigoration Draught, and drunk it down in one go, using the energy it gave me to climb the ladder out of the purse and back into my 'room'. That was more than enough practice for the day - I didn't want to wear myself out before the journey to Hogwarts.

Tempus.

This time, the glowing numbers showed that it was 6:10am, and I gave a frustrated sigh. I still had about four and a half hours stuck in this prison of a house, at the mercy of my father and the Death Eaters.

To try and distract myself from the wait, I summoned one of the potions books from the library in my purse, turned to a random page, and started to read.

'Veritaserum is a truth-telling potion, indistinguishable from water until it's already entered one's system. It can be mixed in with any drink, and just three drops is enough to force the drinker to give a completely truthful answer to any question put to them, according to whatever the drinker perceives to be true. This potion can be resisted using an antidote or Occlumency.'

Frowning slightly as I wondered why Veritaserum wasn't used as a part of criminal trials, I skipped ahead a couple of pages, and continued to read.

'The Wolfsbane Potion eases the symptoms of lycanthropy (though does not cure it), allowing lycanthropes to hold onto their mental faculties post-transformation, which would otherwise not be possible. When successfully brewed, this potion will produce a faint blue smoke, and will have an unpleasant taste. Adding sugar, or any other sweetener, will counter the potion's effects, thus rendering it ineffective.

'To work properly, the Wolfsbane Potion must be taken once a day, every day, in the week leading up to the full moon. Failure to take the potion on any of these days will result in a true werewolf transformation, and a transformation after a full week without taking it will release all the wolfishness that has been suppressed via the use of the potion.'

I read for as long as I could, getting more and more fidgety as time went by, until I finally couldn't take the waiting any more. I closed the book, sending it back to its place in my library with a flick of my wrist. Then, I checked the time again.

How in Merlin's name is it only half past seven?

Wanting to distract myself for a little longer, I conjured a mirror from thin air, and used my magic to change into a few different outfits, trying to decide which one I should wear for the journey to Hogwarts. Eventually, I settled on a long-sleeved green dress, delicate black gloves, and black ballet flats.

As I admired the dress' intricate golden stitching, my attention was drawn to the numerous cuts, bruises, and scars on my face. I worried about what people would think when I, the supposedly evil Ivory Riddle, daughter of the Dark Lord and Bellatrix Lestrange, showed up at platform nine and three-quarters with my face looking as though it had been used for target practice.

Suddenly, the door to my 'room' flew open, and Mother strode in, vanishing the mirror as she did so.

"Having fun looking at ourselves, were we?" she asked, her voice sounding as though she was talking to a baby. "Was ickle Ivory wishing she was pretty?"

I turned to face her, putting on the emotionless expression I knew to wear when she was in that sort of mood.

"I was just thinking-"

"Thinking?" she mocked, still using her stupid babyish voice. "I didn't know you could think. Perhaps you should do that more often, hm?"

"-about what people would think when they saw my cuts and bruises, Mother," I finished quietly, acting as though I hadn't heard her comment. I knew from experience that giving an answer to her taunting would only lead to a punishment.

Mother glared at me, taking out her wand and pointing it straight at my face. I flinched, betraying the fear I'd been trying to hide, and braced myself for the pain I'd long since learned to expect from that wand. But no pain came. Instead, to my great relief and astonishment, I felt my face tingle from a healing spell so powerful, I knew it would've removed all trace of the injuries which had resided there just moments before.

"When you get sorted, you will be put into Slytherin, otherwise the Dark Lord and I will put you through more pain than you could ever imagine. Understood?"

A familiar wave of fear washed over me as I thought about just how bad that would be, and I quickly forced the emotionless mask back onto my face, nodding slowly as I did so.

"Yes, Mother."

"Good."