Harry Potter Imagines

Every Word - Harry Potter

Requested by LeahLP_3245

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The signs had been there all along.

They were reluctant to allow anyone not of pureblood status into our home, they had acquired a list of the Sacred twenty-eight, mother had begun to attempt instilling pureblood supremacist views into me, and they began to leave me home alone for "friendly catch-ups" with the neighbours.

Our neighbours were the Malfoys. No catch-up with them could be considered "friendly."

Therefore, I had no reason to be shocked when they revealed to me their dark secret; my parents had become death eaters.

Alas, I was shocked. All the pieces came together, and suddenly, I began to understand why they had been acting so strangely.

I slowly began to disassociate myself with them. When around them, the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. I had to tread carefully around them, almost as if I were walking on shards of glass.

I stopped dining with them. Their dinner table discussions consisted of their Dark Lord's greatness and their gratuity toward the Dark Lord for "opening their eyes to the evil world around them."

I kept conversations with them to a minimum. No longer could I speak out of turn. If I did so, father and mother saw to it that I would receive a severe punishment.

All literature in my room and in the library was scoured through in case it were muggle. If it were a muggle work, it was thrown into the fireplace.

This went on for a grand total of two weeks. By the end of the two week period, my parents were branded, and they began to speak of branding me as well.

I would not allow it to go that far.

Still, I was lost.

I found myself slowly sinking into a black pit of despair.

I was trapped.

I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and nothing I could do. I could leave, sure, but what would I do? No one would understand my struggles. I couldn't think of anyone who had been in my place.

I was alone.

I was scared.

And rightfully so! I only had two options: accept what my parents had done, follow their teachings, and bare the mark, or I could run away and be left with absolutely no one and nothing to fall back on until I managed to straggle my way to Hogwarts. While the latter option was ideal, the former option offered security; I would know that I had a bed to sleep in, a roof over my head, and my parents would be proud of me, but I would be left to feel guilty, I would be ashamed, I would be reduced to being the most miserable person alive.

With conflicting thoughts, paranoia, and a feeling of shame, I was reduced to a shell of a human.

My stress over the entire situation rendered me silent and weak. My appetite had decreased dramatically. I could hardly stand to leave my room. Most days, I would wish for my silent end. Death seemed better than what would come if my decision were to be made, I was sure.