"Imagine that from the minute you could understand English, you were told you were... special. That even amongst other wizards, with their own abilities, you were prized even above them. That the name Malfoy meant something to people. That it meant power, money, and strength. That you should be proud of your name because you were the product of a thousand wizards and witches before you, hailing all the way from the first recorded use of magic.
You are told that the word 'pureblood' is a significant one. That it means one who is descended from magic itself. And soon, after you learn the word 'pureblood,' you learn a few new ones: Outsiders. Thieves. Muggleborns. Mudbloods. Blood Traitors.
They explain it to you in such a way that it makes perfect sense: Muggleborns steal magic. That's why squibs exist. The pureblood population and ideals are steadily falling to the wayside as the Muggleborns begin to outnumber them, forcing their ideas on us when our lives were just fine before. Those who support them are traitors to their blood. Blood traitors.
And one day, they tell you of a savior. They said he was kind, powerful, wise beyond his years. That he had a plan to put us back on top. That he was horribly misunderstood; that he was our only chance of having peace. That the roles were reversed: he was the Light, and Albus Dumbledore was the Dark. Dumbledore was taking away our rituals, our way of life, the proper way to use magic. So, I was taught to anticipate the Dark Lord's arrival. To be ready for his return. To be ready for the honor of joining him. I repeated every word my parents told me these last four years, hoping to meet this great man, this great… savior.
And, this summer, I got to meet that kind, wise, patient, and loving man. And I very quickly learned that he was neither kind nor patient, and that he did not seem to understand the concept of love at all."
You are told that the word 'pureblood' is a significant one. That it means one who is descended from magic itself. And soon, after you learn the word 'pureblood,' you learn a few new ones: Outsiders. Thieves. Muggleborns. Mudbloods. Blood Traitors.
They explain it to you in such a way that it makes perfect sense: Muggleborns steal magic. That's why squibs exist. The pureblood population and ideals are steadily falling to the wayside as the Muggleborns begin to outnumber them, forcing their ideas on us when our lives were just fine before. Those who support them are traitors to their blood. Blood traitors.
And one day, they tell you of a savior. They said he was kind, powerful, wise beyond his years. That he had a plan to put us back on top. That he was horribly misunderstood; that he was our only chance of having peace. That the roles were reversed: he was the Light, and Albus Dumbledore was the Dark. Dumbledore was taking away our rituals, our way of life, the proper way to use magic. So, I was taught to anticipate the Dark Lord's arrival. To be ready for his return. To be ready for the honor of joining him. I repeated every word my parents told me these last four years, hoping to meet this great man, this great… savior.
And, this summer, I got to meet that kind, wise, patient, and loving man. And I very quickly learned that he was neither kind nor patient, and that he did not seem to understand the concept of love at all."