Chapter two

                                    

                                          
Violet's POV
𝓘t was about seven in the evening when I all of a sudden heard a knock on the front door. 
"GO GET THE DOOR YOU LITTLE BITCH!" My foster mother screamed at me. 
"Yes Katherine." I muttered as I stood up from my spot in the corner of my room and walking into the living room. 
I'm sorry, did I say room? I meant to say supply closet. Honestly, the supply closet wasn't so bad, compared to the other things in my life. I outgrew it by the time I was ten, but other than that it was relatively cozy in there. 
Yes, I know. You thought I was going to complain about how terrible my life was and how much I wished to leave? 
Well you're wrong. 
Sure, I would have loved to leave, but I had slowly accepted the fact that I would live in this house and dealing with my foster family and their bullshit until the legal age to get emancipated, which was 16. 
I even lit my foster sister, Julie's hair on fire, not even caring that I would most likely get a backhand slap across the face from my foster father, Preston Hale. Well, I didn't do it purposely, but I was proud of it. 
She ripped one of my library books, the only luxury that I had in this apartment. I got pissed since it would cost at least fifteen dollars to replace it, and it was as if fire came to my hands and I shot a fireball at her. 
I looked through the peephole to see a boy that reminded me of Percy Jackson with glasses and an elderly man that reminded me of Gandalf. 
The boy had jet black hair and little circle glasses that looked oddly familiar. 
I opened the door. "Welcome to the Hale Residents, how may I help you?" I asked with a fake grin. The Hale's make me say that every time I answer the door since they have a 'successful business', which was selling drugs. 
It was disgusting and the house always smelled like alcohol and drugs, especially because my foster father couldn't go an hour without smoking weed and doing his weekly shot of heroin. 
"We are looking for Violet Lily Potter. Does she live here?" The mini Percy Jackson with glasses said, shriveling up his nose in disgust at the smell. 
"That's me..." I said with my voice trailing off. "And it's Vi."
I locked eyes with the boy, his emerald green eyes meeting mine. 
"What happened?" asked the boy, pointing to the bruise that's forming under my eye in the shape of a handprint. 
I slapped my hand over it, wincing a little. "It's nothing." I lied. 
"Well, nice to meet you, Miss Potter." Gandalf said. "May we come in?"
What I realized was that they were both British–which was extremely weird. 
"Uh...Katherine?" I asked. 
"What do you want—" she cut herself off. 
"Oh hello, Professor Dumbledore, come in! Excuse her rudeness. It's not her fault. She has a disability which makes her unable to hold her tongue." My foster mother said. 
That's what she said every time she introduced me to people, just because I wasn't a normal kid. 
Everything bad has always happened to me. I lit Julie's hair on fire, and everyone at school thought I was a freak because the teacher yelled at me for getting a D  on my math exam, and the cup on her desk exploded right after. Not to mention the time that Julie shaved my head in my sleep and it immediately grew back the next morning.