The Beginning
I remember very little of my father. All memories I have come in blurry images and snippets that I see in my dreams, all I know is what people told me about him. He was a "traitor", that is the main word used to describe him when I was young and still in the care of my grandmother, she would show me photographs of him, he was young when I was born, just left Hogwarts, and was about to turn 18, tall, slender, with dark hair and gray eyes. It was apparent to me from a very early age that I received a majority of my physical traits from my mother, whoever she may be, I am rather short, always at least a few inches shorter than a majority of my peers, with blonde hair, and brown eyes. My favorite photos of my father are the ones of us together, as those are often the ones he looks the happiest...
I often imagined what it would have been like growing up under my father's care if I would have been happier, less anxious. I imagine us living in a little house by the sea, with white paint and forest green doors to match the woods behind our home, where the windows would have shutters and flower boxes underneath them, our living room filled with bookshelves and a comfortable sofa and armchairs, wooden floors, covered by a plush area rug, and a cozy fireplace used during the colder months of the year. Our kitchen, open and airy with a window above the sink and a breakfast nook surrounded by windows, with sage green cabinets and light wooden countertops, the pantry always stocked with our favorite snacks and the kettle always whistling, our two mugs set beside it, ready for our afternoon tea. Up the stairs, my bedroom, separated from the rest of the house by a white door with a gold doorknob, inside are walls of pale yellow, and enchanted ivy growing up the walls and connecting on the ceiling, my own personal library along the wall across from my comfortable bed, with white sheets, and an obscene amount of pillows and blankets, a bay window overlooking the sea, with squishy white cushions and an orange tabby cat sleeping in the sunlight, disorganized art supplies and records a strewn about the room, and a vase of white roses on my nightstand that my father bought me at the market as he knows they're my favorite. Down the hall of family photos, of holidays and birthdays, another white door, leading into my father's room, equally as welcoming as the rest of our home, only more organized and slightly more refined, and more sage green, as according to my father "that shade of green suits me better then emerald does, just as yellow suits you better than green my flower." It would be just us two, neither of us would ever need anything more than that.
Instead, I grew up in the dark, in the cold, that was number 12 Grimmauld place, where there was more forbidden rooms I was not allowed in than not, hundreds of dark objects, a strict grandmother, determined to make me "better" then her sons, and a house-elf, who no matter how hard I tried would not be my friend. When my grandmother died, I was handed off to my father's cousin, Narcissa, and her husband Lucius, who would later have a son Draco, better known as the Malfoys. Malfoy Manor, while grander in size was no more welcoming the number 12 Grimmauld place, it was equally as cold, with its marble floors and tall ceilings, with black stained wood, and even more forbidden rooms and cursed objects. My bedroom while larger in size than the one in my fantasy's equally as cold as the rest of the house, with marble floors and white walls, a large emerald green bed, with a black wooden bed frame. Large floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the neatly trimmed hedges, were framed by black velvet curtains. My mirrored closet door led to another small room where all walls were covered in black, silver, and green clothing, shoes, and accessories. The bookshelf in my bedroom pertained to dark arts and the histories of the sacred 28, no stories of great adventures, and absolutely no novels by muggle authors. A large bathroom was attached with a large clawfoot tub and black marble floors. My reality was nothing like the warm fantasy I would daydream about, it was cold, dark, and privileged.
I spent my days with the Malfoys in etiquette lessons, and ballet classes, in hopes of making me a more refined young lady, my tutoring lessons learning about basics, and blood purity, and my evenings were spent in my "uncle" Lucius' study discussing the Dark Lord, and how much of a disappointment my father was, I was told of all the things he supposedly did wrong, so I would become nothing like him. Little did they know it would only bring me closer to him, it made me strive not to be cold, and reserved like the rest of my family. I learned very quickly, however, that it was better to act like I was who they wanted me to be, a quiet, refined, well mannered, child who would go on to fulfill what my father couldn't, to serve the Dark Lord, and uphold the pureblood values. I learned very quickly what would happen if I spoke out of turn, or did something my uncle didn't agree with, I know what the consequences of my actions would hold.
As my eleventh birthday approached, I began to imagine what it would have been like with my father.
One morning while we were eating breakfast together, an owl would fly through the open window and land on the back of a spare chair situated at the end of our table,
"Well, go get it." My father would say, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, and a soft smile on his face. I would hop out of my chair, my bare feet padding across the floor, slightly covered by my plaid pajama pants, I would stick my hand out, fingers grasping the envelope, while the other would come up and gently scratch the owl's feathers and offer him a treat. I'd climb back into my seat across from my father, and scan the green ink that was sprawled across the envelope reading;
Miss A. Black
The House by the Sea
Tinworth, Cornwall
I would look up with a gasp, quickly flipping it over to see the purple wax seal with the Hogwarts Crest embossed in it, a squeal escaping my throat.
"It's my Hogwarts letter!" I'd exclaim, bouncing up and down in my seat, looking up at my father with a large smile on my face. He would let out a low chuckle at my excitement, responding
"Well go on. Open it."
His permission was all I needed for my finger to slide in-between the envelope and separate the seal from the envelope and pull out the letter reading aloud:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY
✷HEADMASTER: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE ✷
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
DEAR MISS BLACK,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"I'm going to Hogwarts!" I'd yell.
"Now hold on just a minute..." my dad would start looking at me over his cup while taking a sip of his coffee, "who said I was gonna let you go?" He'd question completely serious expression on his face. I'd pause looking at his face not being able to tell if he was serious or not.
"What?!" I'd shout, "Dad you have to let me go! You went! Our entire family went! I need to learn how to do magic! Unless you want me to keep exploding mugs when I get surprised or making it rain in the house when I'm sad!" I would ramble about all the reasons why I need to attend Hogwarts, and only stop when my father would begin laughing at me.
"Honey. Honey. Honey!" He'd say while laughing at me, "I'm only fooling you, of course, you can go... besides I'm running out of mugs, and you know I hate replacing the rugs, and moping the floors when you make it rain." I would roll my eyes at him in irritation,
"Daaaaad..." I'd drag out, "that's SO not funny!"
"No? I thought it was." While running his hand through his already disheveled hair. "I guess I should send an owl back to McGonagall, saying you'll be there?"
"Uhhh obviously." I'd state.
"Okay." He'd say while smiling at me from across the table. "I'll write to her after breakfast." And I would smile back at him.
If only that is how it actually happened. Instead, I received my letter on a silver platter, carried by a cowering house-elf, at the long breakfast table one morning, my aunt and uncle seated at each head of the table, with Draco sat across from me. I pick it up off the tray and say thank you to the little house-elf.
"Asteria! We do not acknowledge them!" My Uncle spat at me from the head of the table.
I look down at my lap "Sorry uncle."
"What did you receive Asteria dear?" My Aunt asked me, breaking the loud silence.
I glanced at the forgotten envelope on the table next to my plate,
"My Hogwarts letter aunt Narcissa."
"Oh, how exciting!" she states happily with a light smile.
"yes." My uncle drawls out. "Another Slytherin added to the family tree."
"What?!" My little cousin Draco exclaims, " I want to go to Hogwarts!" As he crosses his arms and glares at me from over the table.
My aunt laughs and says "you'll have to wait a few more years, Draco dear."
Lucius ignores both his wife and child and looks at me. "I'd like to speak with you in my study after breakfast." I nod silently, knowing what conversation is going to be had in the privacy of his office, away from the prying ears of my aunt and cousin.
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After breakfast, I leave the dining room, walk down the long always down to my uncle's heavy oak door, and lightly knock on the door.
"Come in" I hear through the door. I twist the nob and walk in closing the door behind me. I sit in a black leather armchair in front of my uncle's large wooden desk. He stares at me in silence for a few moments before speaking.
"You know what receiving your letter means don't you?" He questions. I know he's not expecting an actual answer so I reply with a quiet yes. " Good, so you understand that you will be sorted into Slytherin? That you will focus on the Dark arts courses, and when the time comes, you will pledge yourself and your loyalties to the Dark Lord? You will serve him, do whatever he asks of you. You are a Black. Your family name has fallen from nobility, after the actions of your spineless father! It is now your responsibility to bring it back to its once noble status." I know I shouldn't have said anything other than "yes Uncle." That would have been a wise choice, but instead, I said;
"My father wasn't spineless." I muttered, "he was brave." My uncle glared at me from across his desk. He rose from his seat and walked around his desk. I look down at my shoes, already regretting my decision, I should have just agreed with him, not spoken out of turn... I see his shiny black dress shoes join my own and see his pale hand reach down and grasp my jaw tightly, fingertips digging into my pale skin, forcing me to look into his face.
"Listen here, girl." He glares, "Your father wasn't brave. He was stupid. Spineless. A filthy blood traitor. And it is because of his poor decisions I wound up with you. You should consider yourself grateful. Without me, you would be nothing. You will do as I say. You will be in Slytherin. You will serve the Dark Lord or die trying. I will accept nothing less from you. Do you understand?" He asks. I stay silent trying to look anywhere but his face. He releases my face, only for his hand to move into my hair, pulling it harshly so I would look at him. "Do. You. Understand?" He asks again, pulling my hair tighter. My eyes begin to water out of pain, "yes Uncle Lucius." Hoping to escape from his grasp as soon as possible.
"Remember girl, you never knew your father. It would be wise you don't defend him, he is nothing but a disappointment to our bloodline. Do not become the same as him. You will not like the outcome if you do." He spat these words into my face, in a threatening manner, smirking when he sees my eyes watering. "Leave me. I have seen enough of you this morning."
I quickly rise from my chair, and exit his study, hoping to leave avoid him for the rest of the day. I make it up to my room and escape back into my fantasy of the life I wish I had... the one with my father. The one where I was happy and safe, safe from the future I didn't want. Where I had warmth, light, and his warm embrace that I can vaguely remember from my first year of life. It would just be the two of us we would be all we ever needed, each other's best friend, neither living in fear of the world around us.
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