Debilitas

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

It is said that the Gryffindor courage sets them apart. It allows them to choose what is right, even when it is not easy. Of course, almost everybody in the house has a very narrow definition of ‘right’. My Gryffindor courage gave me the strength to stand up against those who I considered brothers, and to choose a path that would give me, along with courage, strength and power.

I spent my first years in the house of lions fawning over Harry Potter, who I saw as the epitome of the house qualities. I counted on him to protect me from Voldemort (I couldn’t even say His name then.) and the other horrors of the world. He never failed, I thought. He couldn’t let me down. It makes me ill to look back at the naivety that was flowing in my blood.

It was Cedric’s death that awakened me. A blessing, really, though I didn’t realize it at the time. My hero, my undefeatable Potter, had let him die. He, apparently, was not as God-like as I had thought. It was a slow descent after that, but I came to realize that I couldn’t rely on others to protect me. Nobody in this world really gives a damn about anybody else. Even perfect Potter was only worried about saving his own skin and that of the people he loved. If I couldn’t rely on him, then I knew I could only rely upon myself. I had to protect my family, and myself, somehow.

It was then that I heard of Voldemort’s offer to half-bloods and muggle-borns

I could prove my loyalty to Him easily; how much did I know about Potter, from watching his every move for 3 years, that He could use? I knew it was the only way. If I wanted my family safe, then I wanted – no, I needed – people to fear me.

A fellow Gryffindor writhes upon the ground in front of me, terror and pain shining in their eyes as they feel the burning of the Cruciatus curse, delivered from my wand. This, my brother, who now understands what I came to with Cedric’s death.

Trust yourself, brother, and no one else.

I am Colin Creevey, Gryffindor. And I rely upon myself only.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

So harmless, people would say when they looked at me. So loyal and patient and utterly harmless. Then they would turn around, and they thought that I couldn’t hear their whispers. So helpless, so useless. My other house members accepted it without blinking and ignored the whispers and looks of pity that the other houses gave us. I could not. I would show them.

Ambition and courage and intelligence are all fine, aren’t they, but what do they give you if you don’t work? I worked. I worked and worked and worked. Still they looked at me like I was lower then them, like they were so much better then me. I would show them.

My worked paid off. I remember when my Lord first sent one of his servants to approach me, to offer me a position in his legions. Nobody else saw me, but he did, oh yes. They didn’t appreciate my strengths, but he saw them and cherished them and cherished me. Of course I joined him.

The Slytherins that sneered at me and called me worthless are below me now, trying to redeem themselves with compliments and lies and manipulation, but I see through them. I know what they are, and I know that if I had not opened their eyes they would still think Hufflepuffs useless. The Gryffindors that patronized my house again and again in everything we did fear me. They fear my name and they fear what I can do.

Now I stand with my wand in hand, and a Ravenclaw boy trembling at my feet, and I see fear in his eyes. Am I helpless and useless and harmless now, little boy? Do you think this will teach those other houses how powerful a badger can be? Well, little boy?

Avada Kedavara.

I am Elenor Branstone, Hufflepuff. And I showed them, didn’t I?

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

My fellow Ravenclaws were always so obsessed with knowledge. The pursuit of knowledge, in and of itself, is, of course, worthy of respect. But they wanted knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Even in my first year, I didn’t understand. I suppose that the sorting hat considered putting me in Slytherin for a reason.

Because for me, pursuit of knowledge runs parallel to pursuit of power.

The Ravenclaws who remain supporting that old crackpot Dumbledore still hide behind their books and their research. I’ve seen, perhaps, three of them on the front lines in all of my time serving the Dark Lord. The rest, as far as I can tell, are holed up in labs across the country, trying to find antidotes and shielding charms and who knows what else. They sicken me.

They have lived in fear their whole lives. The studiousness, the seriousness; it’s always to hide some deep-rooted insecurity that keeps them from having the courage of a Gryffindor or the ambition of a Slytherin. So they are content to read, to study, to research, to discuss in quaint cafes.

I am above that now.

I moved above it when the great Lord Voldemort offered me a position that offered both power and knowledge. Here I have the best of each world. In the afternoon’s I fight, with all of the courage of a lion, underneath the gold of the sun, red staining the ground around me. In the evenings, underneath the Ravenclaw blues and bronzes of twilight, I can debate with some of the greatest minds of our age, others who have chosen the correct path alongside me. And at night, under the silver of the moon, come the manipulations and power plays that are, above all, Slytherin.

I am not like the other Ravenclaws, those who fear to kill and fear to face death.

Perhaps I have achieved perfection.

I am Roger Davies, Ravenclaw. And I have taken hold of that which has called to me.

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

The Slytherin children of Death Eater families are weak.

They have been raised in the lap of luxury, with all of the frills that life can afford. And sometimes I wonder if my Lord even wanted them, or if He took them only because they were offered freely.

I was raised beside them in the snake’s den, watching their petty scheming and childish attempts at manipulation. And I believed that they would grow beyond it quickly, because they were the chosen few, the elite even among other Slytherins. But they never did.

Constant bickering over seats by the fire and Quidditch, things so unimportant that it awed me. They could be discussing plans to bring followers to my Lord, but instead they gossiped about who was snogging who. Beyond even my Lord wanting them, I wondered if perhaps the Sorting Hat had made mistakes in every one of their cases. Hufflepuffs, all of them, in my eyes. Except, without the loyalty, justice, patience and hard work.

I knew that since I was not the child of my Lord’s servants I would have to work much harder then the other’s to reach a proper position in His legions. Unlike the blessed and chosen Slytherins, I had to fight for some things in my life. And fight I did.

I do not remember having any friends during my time at Hogwarts. It suits me just as well, however, because I’m sure I would have betrayed them without a second thought anyway. Instead I focused my attentions on taking hold of every opportunity placed in my vicinity. I molded myself into the perfect servant for my Lord, and when the time came, my work paid off.

I belong to Him now.

I am Tyria Montague, Slytherin. And I faithfully serve my Master until eternity.