The Dark Arts

Chapter One:  We are normal

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Draco    

Now I know that you have heard many horrible things about the dark arts. I myself have heard them. Some rumors are true others are not. You see we, the followers of this fine way of life, were not always frowned upon. There was a time before I was even born, that my parent's, lord Voldemort and his successors were celebrated. A time of witch burning and what not. You remember. We all do. They teach us about it in school. About how muggles were afraid of us. They are the ones who started it. Not us. I have decided to write a journal because as you will see, Slytherins come to school with a bad rep. No need to earn it. You see, Salazar Slytherin was a normal person back then, but when you mix him with Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw what do you expect?  Helga was a muggle born witch and therefore had dirty blood. Excuse me if Salazar was the only one to see her for what she truly was, a dirty mudblood. Rowena was a halfblood witch would have been tolerable, if she was not always sticking up for the rights of mudblood and muggles. And Godric, who was Mr. pure and holy, had to stick up for them and everything they stood for. All and all, Salazar was the only wizard, which founded the school, with a head on his shoulders. He would have never allowed a muggle loving fool like Dumbledore to run the school!! Never.

So it all starts in my sixth year. The battles have started. More murders every day. My father was released out of Azkaban, on account of all the stuff he's done for the ministry. I am happy; he asks me if I want to get my dark mark yet. He says I should do it soon, so the dark lord knows my loyalty. And I am unsure.

Today is September first, the train leaves in four hours and I am happy. It is my escape. From my father, and all his talk of the dark mark. The morning dawns bright, unusually so for September. I meet Crabbe and Goyle at kings cross station. They were different. Instead of being sluggish, they were almost jumpy. I guess they too were having a hard time at home concerning the dark mark. Don't get me wrong. I am all for getting a mark and joining the death eaters and my father. I just want to take some time to enjoy tormenting mudbloods at school and not having the thought of Azkaban running through my mind every time I pound some third grader.

We boarded the train at about fifteen to and much to my surprise there was already more than half the school mingling around the train. We could only find one compartment available. And much to my annoyance there was already some one in there. Well actually they weren't exactly in the compartment their stuff was. It was a Slytherins trunk so we decided that if the fifth year, it says on the side so the house elves know where to put it, I could always tell them to leave.

It was about five thirty when she entered. It was not at all whom I expected. I had expected maybe one of the fifth years I had seen around the school. Nothing could have prepared me for her. She walked in with a tear-stained face and you could tell she had been crying for quite a while. I had seen her before. She was in Gryffindor. She was Ginny Weasley.