Black Blood | S. BLACK

01.

IT WAS NOT unknown, nor was it entirely a secret, that the pureblooded population of the wizardry world was declining. Even a small dash of muggle ancestry was viewed as a taint to the perfect society of the noble and ancient houses.

Those who were proven pure, but did not agree with the terms and conditions that came with such a 'privilege', were often referred to as plagues to their pristine heritages. Blood-traitors, they were called, and such title at times seemed even worse than mudblood.

Prince was one of these fortunate and unfortunate families.

The pure blood that ran through their veins meant nothing to the hierarchy, not anymore.

Eileen Prince had been a pure-blood witch. From a young age, her life had been planned and wrought right before her eyes. She had never been given a choice or a say in her fate — not until she decided to carve her own path rather than walk the one her family had laid out for her.

She left her family,  disappeared in the night, and never returned again. Neither to her ancestral house nor the magical world. It was better to think of her as dead.

Everett Prince's story, however, was different from his sister's. Through some strange miracle, he somehow managed to convince his parents that perhaps love was more important that blood purity. He married a muggle-born witch and earned all of his family's riches, and was neither disowned nor forgotten.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he was never able to trace down his sister. Eileen was lost.

Although Everett had not been shunned from his family, he could not prevent himself from being shunned from the community he had grown up in.

But he would do it all again. All for the one child he had and loved.

"Prince, Augusta."

Her breath hitched when she heard her name and a wave of silence fell over the crowd.

Wiping the sweat of her palms onto her robes, she slowly approached the wooden stool, never tearing her gaze away from the old hat.

There's no pressure, she reminded herself as she clenched her fists. Her father had made it quite clear that he did not care what house she would be sorted into, but it did not ease the bitter taste in her mouth.

She sat upon the small stool and before she could even muster a reaction darkness surrounded her. The large hat had been placed upon her head. It smelled old as time itself. It was dusty scent of ancient books in the library; the scent of the wet earth after rain.

Just breathe —

-Hm, nervous aren't we?

She almost gasped at the sudden voice that intruded her mind, as if it had any rights to be there in the first place.

- A peculiar mind, I must say. Not at all as one would expect, given your ancestry.

She gripped the hem of her robe and crossed her ankles.

-Would your family approve of the house I have set in mind? The hat asked.

"Why would their opinion matter?" She asked, low enough for only the hat to hear. It chuckled, although she had not thought it possible. It was a dry and hoarse laugh.

-Daring! Should I perhaps put in Gryffindor, hm?

Augusta bit her bottom lip. The thought of Gryffindor did not scare her. It sounded quite nice. But Gryffindor was golden glory. She had never liked attention.

-Ah, the hat mused. Not a fan of fame? What about Slytherin? I see ambition on your heart, no? What do you think?

Augusta thought for a moment.

- Ah, I see now...

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The shock was evident on her face as the bright light of the Hall washed over her again.

She was given little time to process what had just happened before McGonagall gently pressed her hand between Augusta's shoulder blades, urging her to walk towards her house.

She could barely hear the cheering crowd as she slowly walked towards the bright wave of yellow robes. But as gentle claps were left on her shoulder and kind eyes wished her congratulations the shock faded.

She was only left with a warm feeling in her chest.