Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
We deserved better.
Better life and a better story. Life is not so easy to live. It was meant to be a chapter-by-chapter storybook, a detailed storybook of how you conquered the dragon and slew it, or a book-selling biography that told how you waited for that alarm to wake you up, the birds giving you a reason to live, cherishing the moments you had with the people who left the world, and maybe telling people how you traveled the world with the known knowledge that your existence it a just a mere vision of others. Then when you close the book, you bring it close to your heart and dying grave with no regrets before taking a final breath and embracing the life you once had before kissing it goodbye and letting it off with a sweet farewell.
Unfortunately, for us, we aren't as lucky as most people say we are. Duty and Honor weighed us down our entire life like how Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. But the world didn't depend on us. I always wondered, maybe, just for once in a fleeting moment, if I was born differently. If I was raised to know that I would have to bend a bloody knee to the Dark Lord and do his bidding like a loyal hound. But then, I was raised to try and survive, conquer, and repeat. It was a broken record in my head on a loop, over and over until it engraved itself in the wall of my head.
But even after years of trying and surviving and sticking to the book, it was clear...quite clear that we...had no place in the world full of black and white.
I was a war-raised child. It has been evident since my childhood. A perfect orphan from the House Black, a prestigious family that had loyalty in their blood, but the question is: Who was I loyal to?
Up to this day, people discuss my allegiance. Of course, they were baffled by how I could so simply raise my wand in the opposite direction and aim a killing spell towards my aunt. Kin slaying isn't my forte, but I did so. I could guess it was the "madness" in my blood. They always regard me as a rabid animal. It doesn't matter to me who I am to them. All they needed to know it was their fault I came out like this.
A simple orphaned child from the House Black. Raised by Narcissa Malfoy and Abused by her dear husband who had thrown every name in the book because the poor child was a 'Bastard'. No problem, I made it their problem. It was only reasonable that they should learn not to use me as a child. They should've learned like how adults should, but for the second time in history, they failed so miserably.
If the first wizarding world nearly wiped out half of what my blood calls family, the second one took it with ease like a slice of cake. All I've ever known from that is no one wants me and my blood never wanted me to begin with. The only salvation this war gave me is my Aunt. Narcissa Malfoy taught me everything I should know to be a human. She always told me: "You have purpose, not now but one day, and you should be grateful for what is given to you, gratify it, my star." I'm not saying I'm not grateful, but...I should have died.
