Taking Fate on by the Storm

Prologue

He could remember smiling faces, though he couldn't remember whose, he assumed it was his parents. That was all he could remember from before he was two. Once he was two he had remembered he had cried and cried. Something had exploded, cursing, and then he was thrown into this dungeon. He was seven now, being in there ever since then. He knew it was when his parents were killed. They were killed by a man known as Voldemort. And he was left with his uncle, the one who threw him in here. He was told it was because he had strong dangerous magic in him, being the purest of purebloods. He had tattoos all over his seven year old body, his black hair a tangled mess. The tattoos were part of his magic, appearing after he caused the explosion in his fit of despair after his parents died. He had a sorrowful look in his green eyes and he looked down at the square of sunlight that filled the room. It was the little sunlight he got. He could never look up though, less it hurt his eyes. He curled up, the manacles clinking on his wrists and ankles. He heard the slot open as a tray of his food was pushed in. Some bread, cheese, and water. He quickly went over to it, and ate, before moving back to his spot in the sun. He looked up toward the window, putting a hand over his eyes to shade them. His name was Fate Storm, and he longed to be free.