Memoirs of a Pureblood

I was born and bred a pureblood, and I was taught from an early age that Muggles and Mudbloods were beneath my notice. I wasn't from one of those incredibly rich pureblood families that practiced the Dark Arts and flaunted their loyalties because they knew they had too much influence to be bothered by petty legalities and laws and tribunals and trials and other such silly nonsense for the bourgeois class. As you can probably tell, I hold families like the Malfoys and the Parkinsons in utter contempt. After all, Lord Voldemort is a half-blood. Why do they profess their loyalties to him? At least, this was what I used to think.

But then, I should probably begin at the beginning.

I was a late bloomer. I didn't show my first signs of magic until three years before I was accepted into Hogwarts. Most of my siblings were born practicing magic. My mum's favorite story is that of when my other brother Icarus was born, and he began bawling, and the all of the windows in the hospital shattered simultaneously ... and not because he screams loud. When I received my letter for Hogwarts, I was naturally delighted. I already had a wand (I had gotten it the day after I performed my first magical feat) and so my mum went to Diagon Alley and bought my stuff for me.

I spent the entire summer pondering what house I wanted to be in. Slytherin was nice, and I would get a break from all of those useless Muggles and Mudbloods, but then, the House was filled with students from families just as stupid ... Malfoys, Crabbes, and Goyles. Ugh. I would rather be in Hufflepuff than be in the same house as Malfoy. Gryffindor was nice and noble, and good if you wanted to get a job anywhere (Gryffindors are always trusted while Slytherins are always suspected) but Gryffindors also tend to be recklessly stupid. I definitely did not want to be classified with them. Hufflepuffs would have been wonderful (Hufflepuffs are not dunderheaded, thank you very much ... my mother is a Hufflepuff, and she holds a high Ministry position--abnormal because she is a witch and the prejudice against women is just disgusting--she's one of the few competent politicans there are) but they also had the highest Muggleborn to Pureblood ratio. And Ravenclaws? I had met one too many arrogant Ravenclaws in my time, and did not wish to turn out like them.

Of course, the ultimate decision was not left to me. The Sorting Hat would be the one who decided who I would spend the next seven years with.

I arrived at Hogwarts, and I was sorted. I found that I had to deal with Mudbloods on a day-to-day basis, and found that by simply glaring at them, I could keep most of that filth away from me. I was top of my year, and was Prefect in Fifth and Sixth Year, Head Girl in Seventh. I received a healthy number of O.W.L.s and I received the most N.E.W.T.s in my year (though my scores couldn't even begin to compare with Snape's--who held the current record, McGonagall's--whose record Snape had beaten, or Riddle's--whose record McGonagall had beaten). I graduated and applied for a job in the Department of International Cooperation. A couple of years after my graduation, Voldemort began his second reign of terror.

By this time, I had transferred and was a Researcher. I was trying to prove that the Muggle influx into the wizarding population was increasing the number of Squibs (using various experiments with magical powers and genes). Lord Voldemort was interested in my experiments and approached me.

That is when I found out why most people became Death Eaters so readily.

Lord Voldemort may look repulsive with his snake-like nose and blood-red eyes, but he is a man of vast intelligence and full of charisma. He proposed a contractual agreement which caught my attention immediately. I would continue my research and publish my results worldwide so everyone could know of the taint the Muggles brought. In return, he would finance my research, and make sure I was not harassed by those who wished me to discontinue my resesarch. I would receive the Mark of the Death Eater and join his ranks, and in return he would make sure that my family stayed safe from attacks (for the Death Eaters held an atttitude of "if you're not with us, you're against us" and most of my family despised them).

This contractual agreement was pleasing to me, and I accepted it. It served me well. I had been brought up to despise Muggles, and though I didn't necessarily wish to exterminate all of them, it was a necessary evil. I cooperated with Voldemort and in turn, he gave me all that I could ever have hoped for and more. You could equate it with selling my soul, I suppose, but I don't regret it.

Then Voldemort fell, defeated by Harry. Of course, my ties with him were discreet at most, and even slightly unwillingly. (I had even evaded the Dark Mark, claiming that it would set off the Dark Magic Detectors at the various institutions, universities, and schools I lectured at).

With my prime benefactor deceased, the finances for my research gradually dwindled until none was left. Pureblood families that had supported me were now in Azkaban for being Death Eaters. Pureblood families that would have helped me were now afraid to because they were still under suspicion from the Ministry.

Almost penniless, and my family dead in the infamous Massacre of Death (the euphemism for bloody Aurors going berserk and convicting and killing almost every Slytherin in sight, as well as several prominent pureblood families), I was alone in the world. Out of lack of better options, I applied and received the position of Professor of the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. I brushed up on my Bulgarian, and taught there for twenty years.

Then, I was politely booted out (with a healthy amount of severance pay). Ever since then, I have been in this dilapidated cottage by the sea. I wake up to the sea, go to sleep hearing the sea, and spend every moment of the day acquainting myself with the bloody sea.

A couple of months ago, I had the brilliant idea to write my life story down. It wasn't very interesting, and so I shortened it to this. I have decided to call it my Memoirs, to be released upon my death. After all, I am old, alone, and close to death. The crowning disappointment was three weeks ago. Some upstart young Researcher continued my research (trying to prove the opposite) discovered that Squibs and nonMagic have nothing to do with genes, but everything to do with a difference in the brains and random mutations (as well as inbreeding). She also discovered that Muggles had the technology to alter the brain waves of Squibs and correct their mutations, thereby granting them magic.

Muggles!

Old and alone? I have one correspondent, being Mr. Summers, my worst enemy and the teacher of Potions at Beauxbatons. He Owled me with the news promptly and gloated about it. I hate that man.

And yet, whether this writing gets published or not does not matter. What matters is that for once, someone mayhaps will listen to the other side of the argument. Purebloods aren't all rich snobby brats who want the entire Muggle population exterminated. Some of us are just people seeking a chance to prove ourselves. Regardless of what other people will think or say, this is and shall always remain ...

...the memoirs of pureblood.