Secrets Run Deep

Chapter One: Prologue

Tradition, standards, and rules. These pillars of pure-blood families have been the guiding principles of my life for as long as I can remember. Anyone peering into the lives we lead would undoubtedly consider our practices as backwards, even archaic but within the confines of our esteemed lineage, they are common. My name, Gothe, which I proudly bear, is known by many and feared by some. I carry this name and its secrets with pride, despite Its legacy, a heavy burden, weighed down by the insatiable hunger for status and power that has pervaded my family for generations. My life was predetermined for me before I was born, my acceptance letter to Hogwarts was no surprise, nor was the knowledge that I would join the ranks of Slytherin House like my father, his father, and the father before him. Beyond that, the path was predetermined—I would wed a suitor chosen by my family, further cementing our legacy and connections. I never questioned these decisions; in fact, there was a part of me that felt safety in the absence of choice. Freedom is a terrifying concept when you've never had a taste of it.

I had always been sheltered by my family, I hadn't the slightest idea of the events of the Wizarding War, nor the concept of Death Eaters, nor any real explanation to who The Dark Lord was, only that we were awaiting his return and that "unlike that Lucius Malfoy and his family" we never gave up hope. Growing up, I was simply presented with just enough information to keep me quiet, but not enough to stop my silent questioning. Although I didn't really understand what the term "muggle-born" meant until I was older, my family held a dislike—no, a disgust—for them. My parents maintained high walls of secrecy when it came to me, my mind was always plagues with questions about their secret parties, their gatherings, their "very important" meetings that I knew nothing about. This resulted in me, at a very little age, alone wandering our mansion, exploring its various halls and passages, observing its gothic architecture that seemed to echo the dark history of my family, a history unknown to me. Despite my cold relationship with them, I always strived for their attention, for their approval. I loved them, as any child would.

On the dawn of my first year at Hogwarts, I met Draco Malfoy—a boy whose surname often echoed throughout my home. His parents and mine were friends, and they attended numerous events together, He was the embodiment of pure-blood privilege, his aristocratic features and haughty demeanour mirroring that of his family. We exchanged polite greetings, but I could sense the unspoken understanding between us. We were heirs to our families, bound by formalities and tradition, expected to continue their legacies, and maintain the bloodline's purity.

My life at Hogwarts settled into a routine of both comfort and challenges. I found myself consistently ranking in the top 5 of all my classes, a testament to the rigorous upbringing I had received before arriving at the school. Yet, it wasn't without its quirks. My academic prowess, I was well aware, had come from the countless hours of reading, studying, and practicing magic under the watchful eye of my teachers. My mastery of Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, was a source of pride. It was as if those subjects had been designed for me, and I revelled in my ability to excel in them.

My parents, eager to uphold the family's reputation, sent me letters weekly, each message a litany of congratulatory words praising my academic performance. They expected nothing less than excellence, and I had learned early in life that mediocrity was never an option.

In the bustling halls of Hogwarts, I forged friendships, yet, as is often the case in a world steeped in ambition, I also made my fair share of enemies. Rivalries born from competition and jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, adding an extra layer of complexity to my life.

Trouble had a way of finding me as well. I was no stranger to the cold, stone walls of detention, it was as if I couldn't help myself from sneaking out of my dormitory after curfew. Always as if the night was calling to me, I wandered the halls of the castle, seeking the secrets it held, I often found myself at the library in the Restricted Section.

One person who always seemed to have an eye on my activities was Professor Snape, the enigmatic Potions Master. His piercing gaze followed me like a shadow, and I often caught him whispering in hushed tones with the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, their discussions veiled in secrecy. I couldn't help but wonder what they were discussing, and whether I was somehow the subject of their clandestine conversations.

It was however, the summer right before my 5th year, that would change me forever.

***

TW list (this list may be altered/added to in the future):

Torture, implied/referenced torture;
Implied/referenced eating disorder;
Implied/referenced child abuse, past child abuse;
Neglect, implied/referenced neglect;
Older man/younger woman;
Underage at the beginning;
Pure-blood society, Pure-blood politics;