Hello lovelies, I'm giving fanfiction another go! I had previously posted this story on a different account, but deleted it, edited, and here it is again, under a new pen name. Review, review, review, and I'll love you forever. Enjoy!

Morgan opened her heavy eyes with an almost inaudible sigh, blinking furiously at the the gray light that streamed through her window. Morgan's was one of six windows in the entire mansion. It was an intimidating manor, and it didn't really look like a home. The drive was lined with albino peacocks at had been there almost as long as the Malfoy family itself. The manor was always chilly, aside from the kitchen, which was always cheery, with a fireplace in each corner. Morgan's room was at the very end of the third floor hallway, and was decorated with endless green and silver.

Green and silver were the preferred colors of the Malfoy family, representing Slytherin, one of four houses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Morgan would be going to school starting in September. Well, not definitely, but her whole family had, so how could she not? Morgan had not yet recieved her acceptence letter, and was starting to get worried.

Morgan's whole family were witches and wizards, so far back on the family tree that they were called Purebloods. It was a rather nasty term in Morgans's opinion, though not as nasty as "Mudblood", the Malfoy's name of choice for witches and wizards of non-magical descent. Speaking of rather nasty things, Malfoy manor was a rather nasty place to grow up, with its cold stone floors, hidden passageways, and hidden heirlooms.

Morgan hauled herself out of bed and walked down the stone stairs to the kitchen where her father and brother were waiting for her. Morgan's obnoxious, thirteen year old brother's narrow face lit up. Scorpius Malfoy was that ugly playground bully crossed with an angry dragon. He didn't hesitate to pursue his favorite subject, Morgan's lack of Slytherin malice.

"I bet you won't even get your Hogwarts letter Morgan! I bet twenty galleons you're a squib!" he shouted gleefully. Morgan almost wished she was a squib, then people would stop trying to influence what house she would be in at Hogwarts. She didnt care about the house so much as she cared about getting to Hogwarts at all. She could be a lousy hufflepuff and still be happy!

"I'll hold you to that." Morgan said.

"No child of MINE is a squib. I was very much respected in my early years at school, and I expect the two of you to follow in my magnificent footsteps." Father boomed.

"Yes father. Where's Mother?" she asked. Morgan had learned by the time she was eight that it was easier to just let Father shout himself out then to try to reason with him.

"Still in bed, obviously. She mustn't strain herself. We do have a house elf after all, so why are you complaining? Speaking of which, where is the little monster? Hoppity!"
Hoppity was the Malfoy's timid house elf. Said house elf hobbled over, weighed down by trays of delicious food. Her bulbous lemon colored eyes were averted from them, and her ratty pillow case toga dangled just below her knobbly knees. She placed the trays around the table, careful to keep the bacon away from Scorpius, who was not allowed meat in the mornings.

"Thank you Hoppity" Morgan said with a small smile.
"Morgan, don't speak to the elf." Father nagged.
"Yes father."
Morgan stood up and started to walk out of the kitchen, but was stopped by her dramatic, disheveled mother's arrival to breakfast. As usual, her hair and makeup was beyond perfection, but the effect was marred as she was wearing her nubby red bathrobe. Hoppity let out a squeak of pain as she was trodden on by the slightly graying woman that was Astoria Malfoy.

"Inferior creatures are to be seen and not heard, Hoppity."

"Yes ma'am!" Hoppity said, rubbing her head, which had sustained a rather nasty looking lump. Astoria was a drama queen. She would never be seen outside of her home in anything but finery. With her jet black hair and her deep brown eyes, she looked absolutely nothing like the rest of her family.

Morgan looked a lot like her father and brother, with silvery blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She looked like a Slytherin princess, but she had a feeling that Hogwarts would have something different in store for her.
During all the commotion, Scorpius had dumped the whole tray of bacon into his large mouth and was working on the sausages."Scorpius! Stop that at once! You know you mustn't eat meat before noon! You have a bowel condition!" Mother screeched. Scorpius reluctantly spit out a mouthful of chopped ham.

"At least I'm better than Morgan. I bet she won't even be a Slytherin. I bet she'll be a hufflepuff. Or even worse, a Gryffindor." Scopius sneered. He had by now given up on the meat and moved on to the omelets. Mr. Malfoy slammed his fork down.

"Scorpius, I really hope that you're joking, because if Morgan isn't a Slytherin, I'll have the sorting hat burned to a crisp." he hissed. Morgan discreetly rolled her eyes.

She glanced at the bewitched clock. It was rather extraordinary. It automatically called out where you needed to be, as well as displaying the time down to the second.

"Morgan is due at Mrs. Norton's place!" it trilled. Morgan stood up and put the dishes into the sink, and Hoppity staggered over and started to clean them. She walked out of the door and smiled at the nice weather. It was so dark in Malfoy Manor that the day always seemed unnaturally bright. Morgan skipped down the lane to elderly Mrs. Norton's one story home. Mrs. Norton had three rather shabby owls that she was too old to care for.

Morgan had been coming for almost two months to feed and water them. The owls hadn't carried letters for so long, it seemed they had forgotten how. Although Morgan loved the owls dearly, that wasn't why she had taken this job. She was saving up for her own owl to take to Hogwarts with her. Her parents had offered many times to buy an expensive owl for her, but it just wouldn't be the same. Anything her parents had to do with seemed almost... Poisoned to Morgan. No, she wanted to buy a pet for herself. Quite honestly, she would rather have a fluffy kitten, but she was terribly allergic.

At this point, Morgan had four galleons and eight sickles. She didn't know which owl she could afford, only that she didn't want what Scorpius had, an eagle owl. Scorpius's owl was named Riddle, after The Dark Lord. He had wanted to name him Voldemort, but was forbidden to by Father. Morgan knew that Father, along with Grandfather Malfoy and Grandmother Cissy, had worked for Voldemort himself, but Morgan didn't think about that much. It was far before her time, and now the Malfoys simply minded their own business.
By now Morgan had arrived at the little house. She let herself in and was met by a terrible sight. The oldest, smallest owl, Daffodil, was dead. The two other owls, Jodie and Hoot, we're staring forlornly at their leader of thirteen years. Hot, angry tears pricked at Morgan's eyes. Morgan gingerly picked up Daffodil's limp body and went out to the backyard. On second thought, she grabbed a trowel. She placed the elf owl on a mossy stump and went back for the other two birds. She brought them out, perches and all, and set to work digging a proper grave. Jodie could tell something was wrong; she kept hooting fretfully. Hoot however, looked half dead himself, and Morgan feared that he would soon be rejoining Daffodil. She gently placed the fluffy little owl into the hole, tears running silently down her cheeks; Daffodil had always been her favorite. Daffodil had had quite the spicy attitude, nipping and pecking everybody.

Morgan filled in the hole and picked bunches of dandelions out of the sparse lawn, and lay them across the dirt mound. She brought the two remaining owls inside and fed them, a hollow feeling beginning to spread throughout her body. She knocked on Mrs. Norton's bedroom door. This was going to break the old lady's heart, but she had to know, frail and tired as she was.

"Come in Morgan." called Mrs. Norton. Morgan twisted the doorknob and walked in quietly.

"What is it dear? Something the matter?" Morgan was terrified that the old woman might die of shock. What would she do then? She couldn't bury Mrs. Norton in the back garden! What if she got arrested for it? She could see the Daily Prophet headlines already: Malfoy Name Disgraced! Morgan Malfoy Kills Mrs. Amelia Norton With Bad News!

"Something wrong, Dear?" Mrs. Norton repeated.

"Yes actually, Mrs. Norton. It's Daffodil. She's... Passed on." Morgan said.

"About time," said Mrs. Norton, with surprising force, "She's been moping about for days. Don't you worry about it Morgan. You took excellent care of that owl. You made her last months the best of her life. You go home dear, and don't feel bad, all right?" Morgan was surprised by Mrs. Norton's gumption, but covered it with a smile.

"Yes Mrs. Norton. Thank you so much." Morgan said. She walked out of the dark bedroom, said goodbye to Jodie and Hoot, and walked home. When she got back, she was surprised to see her family still sitting around the breakfast table.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Letter for you." said Mother.

"Who from?" but no one answered. Morgan saw for herself. It was her Hogwarts letter. A smile took over her pale face from ear to ear.

"Scorpius?"

"What?"

"I believe you owe me twenty galleons."