Drake Stone wasn't his real name.
It was a stage name, created by his producers because it was much catchier and had much more flair than his original name.
Ollie Finn was his real name. He never really liked it; it was a name his father had given him.
And he hated his father. He never could understand his son's interest in spiked hair and punk clothing- always told him he looked like a pansy and would never get any real respect.
Once, he bleached his hair with peroxide. His natural hair color was dark brown and it didn't turn out quite as he wanted. His dad found out and he was whipped until he bled and black spots dotted his vision.
His mother wasn't around either- she was six feet under. He doesn't even know her real name because she buried in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere that doesn't have a name and his father won't talk about her- the last time he asked about her, he ended up with a black eye.
But he knows what she looks like, his father had a picture of her hidden in the attic- and he knows it was his mother because he asked his father and got a beating afterwards. The picture was shredded by his father's rage- but he was able to commit it to memory.
She was beautiful, and it made him resent his father that much more because the only thing he didn't get from his father was his father's cold blue eyes.
She had strawberry blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes, and she looked delicate- like a china doll.
When he was twelve, his father remarried. She was a big boned woman, with fiery red hair and a temper to match.
Her eyes were brown though.
Her name was Ginny and she could cook and clean well, but she wasn't fond of children.
And he couldn't make noise around her, only yes ma'am's and no ma'am's and yes sir's and no sir's, and if he asked a question or spoke out of turn he was beaten with her broom handle- until it broke from beating him and then his father's belt was sufficient enough.
He tried to stay out of the house mostly, most of the time he went down to the magic shop and played cards with the shop owner- a nice old lady who cheated most of the time, but it was all good natured.
Then her younger brother came for a visit.
He was tall and muscular, with blonde hair (that was spiked!) and dark clothes with black combat boots.
Everything Ollie wanted to be, everything Drake was.
He looked up to this man, who said his name was Draco, and to a twelve year old boy that looked up to this sort of thing and always wanted to be like this, it was fucking cool.
Draco always talked to him with respect, like he was a human being and not a piece of trash like he grew up to believe.
Once after a particularly bad beating, he ran out blindly into the street and Draco found him and took care of him.
Then he told him about sorcery. At first, Ollie was suspicious, how could something so…amazing and whimsical exist in this world?
But then, Draco's curtains caught fire, and he shrieked and almost ran out of the room- but Draco grabbed him and held him tight and made him watch.
The curtains went out, they weren't burned at all, and then, they began to dance.
They moved like puppets on a string and he laughed- insanely and loudly and passed out.
When he awoke, Draco was twisting something 'round his fingers- it was purple and silver and large.
"This will be your…ring of sorts…" It wasn't a ring though, it was a silver belt buckle, with a Celtic design that contained amethysts.
At his confused expression Draco laughed and explained, "Every sorcerer and sorceress needs a channel. For their magic."
"For their magic?" He asked, slowly.
"For their magic. Most use a ring, since it is closest to the hand and therefore the magic is easier controlled. However, others, such as myself, use other things- such as, my bracelet,"
He stuck out his wrist and show the thin iron piece, dotted with rubies.
"And, in your case, a belt buckle."
"Why do I need a belt buckle? Why can't I have a ring, or a wand? Or, why do I even need anything? If I can do magic why can't I use my hands or my mind?"
"You have a potential to be a sorcerer. However, every sorcerer must have help doing so, you must have help in channeling your magic. If you did it without a channel, you would explode."
His eyes widened, "That- that sounds dangerous!"
"No, it's only dangerous if it gets out of control. Now, the channel has to be made out of a pure substance, such as silver or iron, the jewels usually represent your…side."
"There are Merlineans and Morganians."
"Which one is bad?"
"The Merlineans. They follow the old, narrow minded ways of sorcery. They follow Merlin, who sounded like a good man, but all in all, was a narrow-minded selfish bastard. The woman, who tried to stand up to his deceitful ways, was Morgana le Fay. She tried to help the others understand and help get rid of him, but he soon tricked her into a horrible prison where she is tortured for her beliefs. However, one brave soul, his name Maxim Horvath, kindly fought for her and managed to get his revenge for Morgana by killing Merlin, but his once friend, Balthazar Blake, had already been controlled by Merlin and trapped him in the prison as well."
"That's horrible! What happened to Balthazar?"
"He searches for the one destined to destroy this world, but his whereabouts are unknown."
The rest of the day, Draco taught him of the backgrounds of sorcery and gave him his Encantus.
"For now on, I will be known as your Master."
And from then on, he learned from his master.
It was harder, he had to learn to channel the energy through his belt buckle but control it with his hands.
At first, he learned wind based spells, he seemed to be best at those, and the plasma bolt took a bit, but he finally got it. And then illusions came, and he mastered most of the forty-three spells within the afternoon.
He was always in a better mood after the lessons, always made him feel proud of himself. He could finally protect himself against his father and stepmother (The police won't ever know how the arsenic got in their tea). And after his parents' death, he moved in with his master.
However, as his learned more, it seemed his skill with magic declined. Fire seemed to singe him and avoid his fingertips, water always seemed to go the very opposite direction he wanted it to, and it's best to avoid mentioning lightning spells.
His master would always torture him if he didn't get his spell right. Crawling Cuts was his favorite torture spell.
And when he awoke, after a particularly bad torture, he found all of Draco's stuff gone. He found out the date from the newspaper. Two days ago he had turned fifteen.
He visited the magic shop, hoping to find out what happened to his master. But when he asked about her brother, she gave him a funny look and told him that she didn't have a brother and she hated when kids like him came into her place and bothered her.
Draco wiped her mind.
He found himself out on the street. But with his training, he was able to do tricks and earn money.
However, the scars were a problem. They covered every inch of his abdomen and arms and he usually wore long sleeved shirts to cover them up.
But, he soon found another way to do so. He saved up money, and eventually, when he had enough money, he went into the tattoo parlor and said, "Cover my scars."
And they did, they did tattoos of the most nonsensical stuff, which was either a popular tattoo or something that meant something to them.
He has a rose on his hand because one guy's mother was named Rose and she died from a fever last week, he had gotten a diamond on his shoulder blade because the guy thought it looked cool, a sparrow was on his shoulder because a guy came in right before him to get a sparrow done because that was the bird he killed most often.
So in some twisted sense, they did have meaning, just not to him.
When he was sixteen, he went to America. Well, more like he hid the storage unit of a boat, living off of the bread and bottled water they had down there until it arrived in Rhode Island.
And then he was found and sent to live in foster care. His foster parents didn't really understand him, but they allowed him to be him and never once brought a broom to his back or whipped him when he spoke out of turn.
It was when he was seventeen and appeared in his school's talent show (which he won) that he was discovered.
He was sent to Hollywood and slowly but surely worked his way through the ranks.
He was twenty when they sent him to New York, to perform at a convention. He stayed, he fell in love with the city and his fans fell in love with him.
And then, he met Horvath. He vaguely remembers Horvath from the story his mas-Draco told him and this was not that man.
This man was cruel, this man was evil.
This man ended his life.
So...I don't really know if I like this one or not...mixed feelings I guess...but whatever. Tell me if you like it in a review or pm me :)