My name is not important. at least, that is what I keep telling
myself. What is a name, anyway? It's just a sound, mainly used to give us a
sense of identity. Whatever its uses, a name is not supposed to determine
our character. And yet, everyone I meet and give my name to instantly
recoils with a look of scorn and coldness and maybe even barely suppressed
hate. Knowing this, I hesitate to give you my name, and yet I feel I must;
my name is Fiora Malfoy.
Thirty-seven years have passed since the Boy-Who-Lived confronted You- Know-Who for the first time. Since then, Voldemort, or You-Know-Who, has been completely vanquished by the famous Harry Potter. All the families who served the Dark Lord lost all their wealth, influence, respect, and homes. My family, the Malfoys, was one of these families. My grandfather, Lucius Malfoy, was one of Voldemort's servants, or a Death Eater. He served the Dark Lord because of his extreme hate for Muggles. My father, Draco, hates them as well. My father knew Harry Potter in school and is convinced that he is a Muggle-lover and show-off, just like the rest of those weak-kneed, lily livered, soft skulled, dolt-headed, stupid faced, slobbering and nauseating egotistical nincompoops (to put it in his words). The way he tells it, we were wrongfully thrown off of our rightful ancestral homes, that instead of being ashamed of our family's past, we should be proud of how far back we go. As if how many generations of idiots called themselves Malfoys was something to be proud of! Nowadays, the name Malfoy is associated with evil or scorn, never respect. Ever since Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, we have been poor, spit upon, friendless and avoided at all costs. Although we are dressed in rags and excluded from wizard society, my father doesn't mind. He thinks we are too good for them. Is it just that I be punished because of the stupidity and snootiness of my forefathers?
It is not that I don't have any family pride. It is just that my father and grandfather have always disliked me, which leaves me with a mutual aversion to them, and they are the only family I have ever known, except for my twin brother. My mother died because of an overdose of Marijuanissa Conrana, a type of marijuana with toads added to make it a more powerful stimulant. My earliest memory of my grandfather is of him performing a mild form of the Cruciatus Curse on me because I was wearing Muggle socks. My father is always showing a preference for my brother, because he always laughs at Father's Muggle jokes and I never do.
But never mind. For the first ten years of my life, I passed the days alone and friendless, a hollow-eyed girl with stringy brown hair and a wistful smile. Then, on my eleventh birthday, I got a letter. My very first letter! Upon opening it up in a secret place behind our shack where I often go to be alone, I realized that it was from Hogwarts, the best wizarding school in the area! My joy only became greater with the realization that my brother had not gotten one. I would be able to go to school away from my family; I would be able to start a new life!
My father, upon hearing the news, was utterly dismayed at the fact that my brother had not been accepted.
" A Malfoy who has not been accepted into Hogwarts???!!! Niro (my brother), you stupid boy, you have single-handedly destroyed the legacy of the glorious Malfoys! You are the weak link in our family's chain! Who shall carry on our family's line? Certainly not a Squib like you! You've killed your own heritage! All pureblooded wizards in the family for as far back as memory goes, and you a Squib!"
After he had been griping for about an hour at Niro, he suddenly turned on me.
"As for you; get out! You should have been the Squib, and your brother the wizard. And don't come back until the school year is through!"
It didn't matter to him that school wasn't to start for another month. I hurriedly got out, before he started berating me. I am always wary of Father when he becomes angry and is within reaching distance of his wand! Once I had left our shack, I began wondering exactly how I was going to arrive at Hogwarts without any money for a train ticket. As I wandered along, pensively scuffing my dirty shoes as I walked, wondering about expenses, I was interrupted by a loud yell.
"Hey! Malfoy Brat, heads up!"
I looked up just as a rock came hurtling in my direction. A gang of Weasley children, all with red hair, mean eyes, and tough looking freckles.
"Oh, no," I whispered. "I better run for it!"
I tried running away, but they were too fast. Luckily though, I managed to duck one of their jinxes and escape their curse and get on my way with my head still on my shoulders; the only problem was that my hand kept on punching me (one of their ingeniously invented jinxes). After I got away from them, I was finally on my way to Hogwarts. My new life was just about to begin!
****Please let me know what you think of this, it is my first story on fan fiction****
Thirty-seven years have passed since the Boy-Who-Lived confronted You- Know-Who for the first time. Since then, Voldemort, or You-Know-Who, has been completely vanquished by the famous Harry Potter. All the families who served the Dark Lord lost all their wealth, influence, respect, and homes. My family, the Malfoys, was one of these families. My grandfather, Lucius Malfoy, was one of Voldemort's servants, or a Death Eater. He served the Dark Lord because of his extreme hate for Muggles. My father, Draco, hates them as well. My father knew Harry Potter in school and is convinced that he is a Muggle-lover and show-off, just like the rest of those weak-kneed, lily livered, soft skulled, dolt-headed, stupid faced, slobbering and nauseating egotistical nincompoops (to put it in his words). The way he tells it, we were wrongfully thrown off of our rightful ancestral homes, that instead of being ashamed of our family's past, we should be proud of how far back we go. As if how many generations of idiots called themselves Malfoys was something to be proud of! Nowadays, the name Malfoy is associated with evil or scorn, never respect. Ever since Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, we have been poor, spit upon, friendless and avoided at all costs. Although we are dressed in rags and excluded from wizard society, my father doesn't mind. He thinks we are too good for them. Is it just that I be punished because of the stupidity and snootiness of my forefathers?
It is not that I don't have any family pride. It is just that my father and grandfather have always disliked me, which leaves me with a mutual aversion to them, and they are the only family I have ever known, except for my twin brother. My mother died because of an overdose of Marijuanissa Conrana, a type of marijuana with toads added to make it a more powerful stimulant. My earliest memory of my grandfather is of him performing a mild form of the Cruciatus Curse on me because I was wearing Muggle socks. My father is always showing a preference for my brother, because he always laughs at Father's Muggle jokes and I never do.
But never mind. For the first ten years of my life, I passed the days alone and friendless, a hollow-eyed girl with stringy brown hair and a wistful smile. Then, on my eleventh birthday, I got a letter. My very first letter! Upon opening it up in a secret place behind our shack where I often go to be alone, I realized that it was from Hogwarts, the best wizarding school in the area! My joy only became greater with the realization that my brother had not gotten one. I would be able to go to school away from my family; I would be able to start a new life!
My father, upon hearing the news, was utterly dismayed at the fact that my brother had not been accepted.
" A Malfoy who has not been accepted into Hogwarts???!!! Niro (my brother), you stupid boy, you have single-handedly destroyed the legacy of the glorious Malfoys! You are the weak link in our family's chain! Who shall carry on our family's line? Certainly not a Squib like you! You've killed your own heritage! All pureblooded wizards in the family for as far back as memory goes, and you a Squib!"
After he had been griping for about an hour at Niro, he suddenly turned on me.
"As for you; get out! You should have been the Squib, and your brother the wizard. And don't come back until the school year is through!"
It didn't matter to him that school wasn't to start for another month. I hurriedly got out, before he started berating me. I am always wary of Father when he becomes angry and is within reaching distance of his wand! Once I had left our shack, I began wondering exactly how I was going to arrive at Hogwarts without any money for a train ticket. As I wandered along, pensively scuffing my dirty shoes as I walked, wondering about expenses, I was interrupted by a loud yell.
"Hey! Malfoy Brat, heads up!"
I looked up just as a rock came hurtling in my direction. A gang of Weasley children, all with red hair, mean eyes, and tough looking freckles.
"Oh, no," I whispered. "I better run for it!"
I tried running away, but they were too fast. Luckily though, I managed to duck one of their jinxes and escape their curse and get on my way with my head still on my shoulders; the only problem was that my hand kept on punching me (one of their ingeniously invented jinxes). After I got away from them, I was finally on my way to Hogwarts. My new life was just about to begin!
****Please let me know what you think of this, it is my first story on fan fiction****