Marauding at Hogwarts

There was once a little boy who had a proper wizard family. His magical ancestors went back through the ages- a true lineage. He was surrounded by witches and wizards who believed themselves to be superior to the rest of the world and taught the boy the same. But the boy was different from his family. He had thoughts of his own. He often dreamed of a world where people could be who and what they are without any strings. No one was better than anyone else because of blood, wealth, race, or species. The boy was punished for his dreams. He was shoved in a corner. Was told to shut up and sit still. Be seen and not heard, because anything he had to say was not worth hearing. The boy grew angry. He had a fiery passion in him that he could not control and it scared him. Filled with anger and fear he went off to Hogwarts where he met another little boy who applauded his dreams and damned anyone who did otherwise. The boy was struck with hope. Hope that someone actually liked him despite his differences, despite him failing to meet such high expectations. He met someone who was proud to call him a friend- to call him brother. He taught him how to love and how to be loved in return. He taught him about loyalty and acceptance. About honour and sacrifice. And the little boy changed. He no longer tried to fit in with his proper wizard family. He had a new one now. It wasn't a proper. There was no purity. Not one of them was the same as the other. One was a half-blood with messy hair and a wicked smile. One was a muggle-born with blonde hair and a wild imagination. One was a werewolf with brown hair and a quiet front. But they fit with the pure blood like no one else had.