Unlike most children who were excited to finally receive their letter to Hogworts, I was not happy. It was two days after my birthday that it came in and my parents were all smiles and joy. While all I felt was dread. They did not see what I saw.

My parents were in ravenclaw when they went to hogworts. A house made for the intelligent. So they could grow and prosper. Yet they were blind to what was in front of them. A depressed child, dreading the end of summer and wearing the scars from previous school years. Blind to him coming back like he spent the last year in a war.

Who I am talking about is my older brother Jasper, who is starting his fifth year this September. I remember when he first got his letter and was just like all the other kids. Excited. Then he got put into the slytherin house and it went down hill from there.

He has burns and scars. Not made by him, but products of those believing that they were doing a public service by beating a slytherin. Letting them know their place because all slytherin were soon to be death eaters. Or so they believe.

That was why I do not want to go. I did not want to be placed in a house that would define and divide me. The housing system is a system that bred hate and I want no part in it. My parents would not listen though.

So now here I was, sitting on the Hogworts express. Waiting to be judged by a hat, that would decide my fate.