A Matter of Blood

A Matter of Blood

I'm a Slytherin, and blood matters.

Purebloods are the most dominant and superior wizards in our hierarchal house. Anything less than pure and you are nothing more than dirt--a vile, undeserving waste of air and space.

I'm a Slytherin, and my blood is not pure.

Unbeknownst to Muggles, a completely magical world exists right beneath their noses. They can't even see the truth. I was one of them for a time. My parents are Muggles, and I hide it from my housemates. I am not pure, but I will not be alienated from the people I must share a dorm with.

To keep my secret, I lie to my housemates. Pansy Parkinson believes I am pure. She does not ask questions about my family anymore. I learned to survive amidst wizards that hate my kind, who would hate me if they knew the truth.

I'm a Slytherin, and I'm a Muggle-born witch.

Every year for the last six years, I have lied about where my parents were when I boarded the train to head off to school. The excuses were all the same. "They're in France," I'd reply, or sometimes it was Germany, Russia, Egypt, anywhere but on the Muggle platform. When the train would pull into the station for the summer, I would wait until our platform was clear and then make my way to meet my parents. No one knew. No one would ever find out. If they did, I'd be lost.

My pureblooded housemates speak horribly of those of Muggle decent, of half bloods or worse. They insist on calling them names like "mudblood" or "foul," and I join in to prove I'm just like them. I know that if I were to speak up in defence of Muggle-borns, I would be called a 'Muggle-lover'.

I am a Slytherin, and I do not belong.

My whole life I'd always known I was different, known that I wasn't like the other kids I went to school with. It wasn't like I wanted to be different. I tried hard to blend in, to be like them, but I couldn't. I could do things, things I didn't understand. Like making Mrs. Goldburn's flowers burst into flames when Joey mad me angry, and Dad's tool shed. Then I learned I was a witch, and would be leaving that world of difference behind for a world where I'd fit in. But I would never fit in. Not in my own house. Not in Slytherin.

Tomorrow is the first of September. Tomorrow I will lie to my housemates. I'm already concocting my lies of where my parents are. This year, I think I'll say they're in Tahiti, or maybe Singapore. Tomorrow, I'll fill my life with lies, and a facade that no one has been able to decode. I'm a double agent, playing my role in our world of lies.

I'm a Slytherin, and I used to believe in fairy tales.

My dream, my hope of being accepted, of being part of something, being where I belong, has been shattered. I used to believe that one day I'd find where I belonged. I'd learn that there was this castle in a world not like my own, and I'd live happily ever after; but there are no fairy tales or happily ever afters. No castle exists in a world not like my own, where I am accepted and happy, because Hogwarts is only my school.

It's three o'clock in the morning and I just don't feel like sleeping.

Life has its way of being cruel to us little people. Why was I sorted into Slytherin? Why am I the one to worry about being found out? Can I prove my worth to the pure and superior? Can my life have meaning even in Slytherin house?

I remember the Sorting Ceremony, way back in first year.

'Millicent Bullstrode,' Professor McGonagall called.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't want to be in front of all these people, watching me, waiting for me to be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts Houses. I wanted to blend in, to be unseen, and to be unnoticed.

I walked up to the stool, my hands sweaty with nervousness and slight fear. Taking my seat, the hat was dropped over my eyes.

'Hmm,' the hat whispered in my head, and made me jump.

I could hear some of the students laughing in the foreground. I didn't want to be laughed at, and my large fingers curled into fists.

'You could do well in Hufflepuff,' it said.

'I will not be in that house. I've heard it's for weaklings. I'm no weakling!' I responded hotly.

'No, indeed you are not. You are not meant for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw...'

'Could you just hurry it up? I don't feel like sitting here all day.'

'Slytherin!' it called.

The hat made no comment on my blood; it just put me in Slytherin, probably because I wouldn't go to Hufflepuff and I wasn't suited for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. I'm sure the hat knew I was a muggle-born, knew I'd never be accepted in Slytherin house. Yet, I don't understand the hat anymore than I understand Professor Dumbledore.

I'm a Slytherin, and a coward.

I could just come out about it. I could just let the whole school know I am a muggle-born--get it over and done with. They'll find out anyway. Eventually I won't be able to keep this up. I can already feel the strain of lying on my mind. It's hard to keep up lying without getting caught. I'm tired of lying; I'm tired of hiding the truth. I know what will happen when the purebloods find out. I'll be called a 'mudblood'; I'll be treated no better than a Gryffindor. I want acceptance but I won't find it in Slytherin house.

The Platform is quiet when I arrive. No one is around; I didn't think we left that early. Mum and dad are gone, and I'm left to find a seat on an empty train.

"Bullstrode!" I hear behind me, I know the voice. It's Potter and I'm sure his stupid little friends. I don't have time to deal with them.

"What?" I reply coldly, turning to glare at them.

"Were those your parents on the platform?" Potter questions me.

"No," I say quickly, and turn to walk away.

"You're a muggle-born, aren't you?" he persists.

"If you tell a soul, Potter, the Dark Lord won't get a chance to kill you. Understand?"

"There's nothing wrong with being muggle-born," Granger says, but she obviously doesn't understand the way things work in Slytherin.

"You know nothing about Slytherin, Granger." I turned and walked away from them.

They don't understand the politics of being in a house for purebloods. I don't know what I'll do if someone in Slytherin finds out. I suppose I'll find out soon enough. I just hope Potter knows how to keep his mouth shut.

I watch as people walk past my compartment. Pansy, Draco and Theodore wander past, glaring in at me. I hear them snicker as they continue walking. Normally they would have sat with me. Normally, we'd have made the trip to Hogwarts together. So instead of just sitting here, I leave to find them.

I can hear Pansy's voice; she's talking loudly to some of the seventh years. "That's right, Bullstrode is a mudblood. I heard it myself. She's no better than Granger." My worst nightmare has come true. They know what I am.

I return to my empty compartment. No one is bothering to come near me. News does spread fast, and I'm left to sit by myself. Alone again. I'm not surprised. It was bound to happen. I just didn't expect it to happen today.

I'm a Slytherin, and blood matters.