Prologue-
I remember when I was younger, sitting on the drawing room floor for hours, staring at a large, woven tapestry. It showed our family tree, our history. I believe that many of the pureblood family's have the same one. There were many small holes burnt into it, those who had disgraced the name of pureblood.
I also recall once asking mother how many of those remaining names were in Slytherin, like her and father had been. Her reply only half startled me, "All of them. " I then turned back to the tapestry to see how many little holes there were in my direct blood-line, my grand- parents and great grand-parents. None. I traced my finger of my name, gleaming in gold thread.
I pictured my mother burning a hole strait through it with her wand, a sad smirk on her face, my father mumbling "Disgraceful." under his breath in the background.
I was only 8 at the time, yet that day I made up my mind to be the perfect little pure-blood boy. To do whatever my father told me to. I would be exactly what they wanted. They had always bought me fancy gifts and brought me to parties, yet I was on a short leash. If there was one thing my parents were truly unable to give me, it was love.
For they had told me they were proud when I beat someone, but never when I drew a nice picture. They never showed me off because they loved me; they just showed me off because I was a pure-blood. If anything, I was quite afraid of my father. When I was 10, he started to hit me whenever I slipped up. He would make me practice flying for hours, though I truly never was very good.
I had always known my parents were in the inner circle with the Dark Lord, but I had never known they planned for me to be the same. On my eleventh birthday, 2 days before my departure to Hogwarts, my parents threw a little party. They invited many Death- Eaters, those who believed the Dark Lord would one day return to power. They told me that when he did, I was to become a Death Eater too. They also told me that if he ever died, I was to carry out his mission as his heir.
That night, I cried. I didn't want to be bad; I didn't want to have my entire future mapped out for me, when I hadn't even started school yet. But, I knew that I could not refuse my parents, or the Dark Lord. Or they would kill me without a second thought. I now knew why I was born I was born a slave, a slave to evil.
For my entire life, all I have known is being above and better than everyone. But, at home, the tables are turned. To my parents, I am a disposable pawn in Voldemort's game. I am lower than dirt, I am dirt.
My life has already been planned, I have no power of decision. I'm scared. I'm just a scared, worthless child. Just a child, who was Dead Before I Hit The Ground.