Almost seventeen years ago, I was born alongside my twin brother, Draco, into the family of the Malfoys through my father, and the Black family through my mother. I was born just six mere minutes after my twin.
I can remember bits of our childhood almost perfectly. Our parents, Lucius and Narcissa, spoiled us and loved us and taught us the high importance of pure-blood wizards and to look down upon all others. They filled our minds with stories about muggles and the wizarding world, and when we were old enough, we would be trained as a wizard and a witch.
Even though my brother took well to the ideology of pure-blood supremacy, a part of me found no difference between what my parents referred to as a mudblood, and a pure blood wizard. I didn't believe a pure blood was any better or greater than a half-blood or muggle born wizard. I of course never mentioned this to my parents and took to their teachings without complaint or objection.
When I was seven though, I received my first letter. From him.
My Dearest Adeline,
It's been almost seven years since I last saw you. I was able to meet you the minute you were born and one more time a few months after. I am your mother's cousin, your mother's aunt's son, Sirius Black. I'm sure you have several questions, but please, I must first get across that I have to be the one to educate you about the wizarding world. I know your parents are teaching you of pure-blood supremacy; my dear, don't believe it. Since the first time I laid eyes on you I knew that you wouldn't care about the dominant role pure-bloods seem to play. All wizards are the same in my eyes; the only difference is whether they are good or dark. Surely you see it this way too. I hope to write to you again soon.
Sirius Black
My being so little, I did not understand all of what my cousin was telling me, but I got the main point he was trying to make.
"My dear, what do you have there?" I remember hearing my father ask.
I was sitting on the floor in my play room, the letter clutched in my hand. He was kneeling down next to me, his grey eyes calm.
I reluctantly handed him the letter and waited for his reaction.
His eyes turned from calm and warm to cold and hateful. "Where did you get this?" he asked, not looking up from the worn piece of parchment.
"An owl brought it to me," my seven-year-old self explained, "through the window."
My father then looked up and saw a brown barn owl sitting on the ledge. He let out an angered sigh, scooped me up in his arms, then took me to the drawing room, in which a grand and very long dark wood table stood, along with several chairs to accompany it. My mother sat at the head of the table at one end, with Draco sitting, drawing in the seat to her right.
"Your cousin has written our daughter a letter," father spat after setting me down next to her and slapping the parchment on the table before my mother.
My mother read it over several times then peered at my father. "How did she get this?"
"An owl brought it to her," he spat again, snatching the parchment and walking to the grand fire place mounted in the wall behind Draco.
"How did he get it out of Azkaban?" she asked, pulling me onto her lap and holding me tight. She took comfort by stroking my waist-long white, blonde hair.
"He's obviously been sneaking around and he's had help, but I can't be sure how exactly."
To my father, I was his perfect little princess, and anything that jeopardized that infuriated him.
He stopped at the fire place and gazed into the inviting flames, then tossed the letter into the fire with another thought, then faced my mother again.
"Perhaps I'll write to the Ministry," he concluded, then disappeared into his office.
"Promise mummy that the next time an owl brings you a letter from my cousin that you'll tell us," my mother told me and I didn't dare refuse her promise.
Until another owl showed up.
It was a week later, in the middle of the night. I heard tapping at my bedroom window and looked up to see another barn owl at the ledge. This time, it carried a small package in its beak.
I crept out of bed, pushed open the window as much as I could, then took the package into my hand. It was addressed to My Dear Adeline.
The owl squawked quietly and I gave him a treat before he took off and headed south.
I looked over the package again, then tore of the paper. It turned out to be a small, square, sky-blue book with the words The Tales of Beedle the Bard engraved around a portrait of a middle aged man, who I assumed was Beedle. The book wasn't in prime condition and was indeed worn, which clashed with all my belongings which were all brought to me new and unused.
I didn't care though. It obviously meant something to Sirius.
I remember opening the small, fragile book, and out slipping a piece of parchment:
Adeline,
Something I acquired as a boy when I left my family. I am passing it down to you because I know you'll hold it near and dear as I once have. I hope it answers your many questions.
Sirius
The rest of that night I sat in my bed and flipped through the book. I discovered that the book had children's tales that I knew I wouldn't be aloud to hear or read. I took well to it though because I knew Sirius took well to it and he'd passed it to me for a reason.
In the early morning, when I heard the house elves emerge from their rest, I hurried to find a hiding place for the book and note. I crept around the room until my foot stepped on a plank of wood that squeaked. I dropped to my knees and began to pull the plank up until it gave way and erected itself in the air, giving me the perfect hiding place.
I stuffed the book and note inside, closed the plank, then hurried to my bed. I fell onto the soft surface and fell fast asleep.
Sirius managed to send me a letter each week and after several letters, I began writing back as best I could. He began to tell me where he was and the truth behind why he was there, my question of what Azkaban was answered. He told me how we were related even more and I was very much a Black as he was. He was kind in his teachings of the Wizarding World and opened my eyes to an alternative to the Malfoy lifestyle.
My parents never suspected anything of my letters because of how discrete I was and how smart the owls Sirius sent where. My father had grown rather proud of himself because he believed the Ministry took care of Sirius.
It went on for years, and when Draco and I had received our letters to Hogwarts, Sirius gave me the best advice.
I have a feeling, my dear love, that you won't be sorted into the Slytherin House like our family. No matter what house, though, that you are sorted, I will think no differently of you. I cannot say the same for your parents though. In our family, being sorted into anything other than Slytherin is a disgrace, but let that not matter. The Sorting Hat will know you better than your family. Better than me, even. If you are sorted into anything else, remember. It's for a reason. You're family won't and should not be disgraced, but if they are, they don't realize how great of a daughter they have and how lucky they are to have her.
I remember it well as I look back to my first year at Hogwarts, the night I was sorted. I hardly remember my brother giving Harry Potter hell as we waited before the Great Hall. I had way too many nerves to scold him for being a git.
McGonagall finally let us into the Great Hall where all the other students were waiting. We arrived in front of the staff table where the Sorting Hat sat on a stool.
New student after new student was sorted into all different houses when suddenly, McGonagall called,
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Draco stepped up with a sly smile on his face and before the hat even touched his head and he sat down, the hat declared him a Slytherin. The Slytherin table burst into cheers and applause as they welcomed my brother. He sat next to his friends Crabbe and Goyle, then locked eyes with mine.
"Malfoy, Adeline!" McGonagall called and I instantly got the feeling to throw up.
I finally carried myself up to the front and sat myself down while McGonagall placed the hat on my head.
"Mmm, another Malfoy. Excellent. But this one is different. Unlike her family very much, if I might say. Not a dark bone in her body and instead, bravery to be unlike the others. Bravery to be who she is. Gryffindor is the only place for you, Miss Malfoy!"
Both the Gryffindor table and the Slytherin table didn't know what to do. It was rare that a Malfoy was ever sorted into anything other than Slytherin, especially Gryffindor.
When I looked at Draco, he looked like he wanted to punch me square in the face.
The Gryffindor table was still silent as I stepped down from the stool until two third years, red haired twins, stood up and began to shout.
"Oi, congratulate the poor girl!" one said to his fellow Gryffindors.
"Yeah, come on, we got a bloody Malfoy for Merlin's sake!" the other pointed out.
Then all of a sudden, the Gryffindor table burst into applause and the twins welcomed me personally, sitting me down between them. They never left my side henceforth.
The next day, however, my parents showed up in Dumbledore's office, demanding I be resorted. I could only guess that Draco tipped them off, which made me want to punch him.
I remember my father staring at me in anger and disgust when I entered the office, escorted by Professor McGonagall, obviously shocked with what happened the previous night.
"You are going to be sorted again, Adeline, by the request of your parents," Dumbledore said gently and kindly, leading me to a stool on which the hat sat.
He picked up the hat and placed it back on my head after I sat on the stool, my father's gaze weighing on me.
"Miss Malfoy, I believe I sorted you a Gryffindor last night," the hat remarked matter-of-factly.
"She's supposed to be a Slytherin, like me, her mother, and brother," my father snarled. "I've done all I can to ensure she's been brought up the way I have, as well as her mother. Her brother has obviously taken well to it."
"Lucius," Dumbledore interjected calmly, "please."
My father sighed sternly, and let the hat continue it's business.
"Your daughter is purely a Gryffindor. She has bravery, courage, a brilliant mind, endless talents, and is kind hearted. Slytherin is not her place, like it was for you Lucius, and Narcissa, amd young Draco. I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I cannot place a student where he or she does not belong. She remains a Gryffindor," the hat explained. "And wear that proudly Miss Malfoy."
Dumbledore took the hat off my head and returned it to its home on a high shelf in his office.
My father didn't say anything and stared at me as if he'd seen Sirius escape prison before his very eyes.
"What has been running through your head, girl?" he spat with hatred.
"Nothing that you haven't taught me, father," I lied innocently.
"Then why aren't you a bloody Slytherin?" he demanded in a roar.
My mother reached out and hugged me close, as if to shield me from my father's fury.
"Lucius," she scolded.
"She's disgraced the family," he whispered coldly, then left the office in a hurry.
When I looked up at my mother, I could tell she wasn't particularly happy with the sorting, but she wasn't taking it as bad as my father.
"My dear, why not go down and join your classmates for dinner?" Dumbledore asked kindly. "I'd like to have a few words with your mother."
I nodded and hugged my mother goodbye, who in turn reminded me to write to her, before leaving the office with Professor McGonagall. The whole journey down to the Great Hall and McGonagall only said one thing to me.
"My dear, I am glad you're apart of Gryffindor," she mumbled, then left me at the entry of the Great Hall to join the staff table.
I was about to walk to the Gryffindor table and find Fred and George Weasley, the twins who saved me from embarrassment last evening, when I felt several people walk up behind me.
"I hope you know you're not father's perfect little princess anymore," I heard Draco said with amusement.
I turned around to find Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy all staring at me with stupid smiles on their faces.
I rolled my eyes and began to walk away when Pansy grabbed my arm.
"Don't ignore Draco," she stammered, her dark eyes glaring into mine.
"I'm his twin, I'm allowed," I glowered, pulling my arm away from her. "What are you, his girlfriend?"
Pansy's eyes grew darker, but before she could do anything, Fred and George walked up behind me.
"Problem?" George asked in a sing-song voice.
Pansy's expression softened and she stepped behind Draco. "No," she mumbled.
"Good," Fred said cheerfully, wrapping an arm around me and leading me away with George.
This was the first day that would mark the hatred between me and my twin.