Half Blood Royalty

Family Curiosities and Secret Abilities

I couldn't find it in me to go to sleep that night. Laid awake, I just stared up at the ceiling... trying to find something for my eyes to focus on (the way I would when I couldn't sleep back home... or at the Manor)- pretty hard to do when there's a giant canopy drooping over your four-poster bed. The quiet stillness in the room helped me lay back and wonder. Could I be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Could Harry? It'd make more sense for him. Yes, I'm part of Slytherin House, but he's the one related to a Pureblood Wizard. My father comes from partial muggle descent, and even if I don't know anything about who my grandmother was... I'm sure she wasn't a descendant. And it's so obvious my grandfather wasn't- Salazar didn't even want those with muggle blood to be a part of his House, let alone share his blood. Still... what is it that I know about my father's family? He never once talked about his parents... not like the Malfoys, at least, who seemed proud of their heritage. Always boasting about their blood purity statues; "A Pure-Blood witch or wizard must always stick with the plan, for there are others who try to change the Wizarding World to include those of other blood." as I've heard Lucius Malfoy say as I roamed around the Manor as a child. I'd expected that he never counted me as one of the others; same goes for my own father... with how they've considered the two of us as family. I've always found myself jealous of Draco when it came to family histories... able to ask his parents about where his family came from without being told that it 'didn't matter'. Some days I did actually pretend that I was a part of the Malfoys, able to learn about my blood relatives whenever I asked, but even if they were to say otherwise... I'd never be one of them. I couldn't help but wonder about how Harry was coping with the information inside his head. Parselmouths. Carrying around an ability nobody else carried with them. He's Gryffindor, though. He couldn't be related to Salazar Slytherin, could he? If the Sorting Hat would put Weasleys all into one house or put Draco in the same house as his own parents... wouldn't the Hat have given Harry his own little reserved spot in Slytherin if he was a descendant to Salazar Slytherin. Maybe the Sorting Hat gave Harry a hard time during his sorting as it had with me? A long decision... thinking and conversing before making that final choice. I practically begged for my house and the Hat listened. Maybe it was destined for me all along. I was meant to be here. Wasn't I? This is my father's house... the Malfoys had this house... Draco was here... It was the only place I dreamt to be sorted. My mother was Gryffindor, but that couldn't have made a difference, right? Quietly, I tried to speak in Parseltongue... anything, really, but the words never came. Could I even speak to snakes myself? I've never tried before. Yes, I've heard words before and understood Harry tonight... but maybe that was just some kind of sibling intuition. Something I did in order to protect him before his own friends turned against him... or maybe it was just something I managed to know how to do since we shared the same blood.

"You are Slytherin," I whispered to myself.

"Salazar Slytherin... The Heir of Slytherin... it would make more sense to be you, rather than Harry Potter." A little voice in the back of my brain spoke out loud to me, "Don't you remember that little stunt you pulled tonight... about to use Crucio on your own flesh and blood, in front of everyone... much like Voldemort would've done. Much like-"

"Enough." I told myself, "Hush."

**

By the next morning, a light snowing that occurred overnight had suddenly turned into a blizzard. Today, out of all days, I dreaded the dungeons being so cold. Trudging myself downstairs towards the common room where a fire had been lit, wishing I could use it to get warm but a crowd of Slytherin students was already crowded 'round it. Of course, they were. My father doesn't even keep our own house this cold when we're home... why must he keep the dungeons so cold? I know... I know... I doubt he has much of a say, but still. It's the principle.