The Storm | Regulus Black

Epitome of Hell... or Heaven?

Being pure-blood was like a contract with a forged signature.

Agatha had learnt at a very early age not to expect, not to trust and not to show. She had learnt to expect nothing because if you don't you needn't be disappointed, she learnt not to trust because barely a handful of the inner circle was trustworthy and lastly she had learnt not to show feelings because if you did, people would see you as easy to manipulate and take use of.

When Agatha was a child she had been like a ray of sunshine who thought the best of everyone, now she was cold like ice and only saw the truth. She and Zelia, Emma, Regulus, Evan and Barty were like grey, cold, glum clouds in a storm.

To the majority of the Slytherin students' defence, they did not have a loving, nurturing upbringing. Zelia's family was pure-blood and wealthy and powerful, yes, but her parents truly loved her, they wished the best for their daughter. Surely, the rest of the Slytherin population's parents loved them, but did they like them? It would be inhumane for parents not to love their offspring, but they were not obligated to enjoy being in their children's company. Perhaps 'twas because of the repetitive practice of arranged marriages in the pure-blood community. At the end of the day Agatha, Evan, Zelia, Emma, Barty and Regulus would be courted by someone, if they were lucky, a person they already knew. It didn't matter if they were related or not, the only thing that mattered was their blood status.

They all knew, even their parents and grandparents knew that it was foolish. Alas, it did not matter what they thought. If they said anything about their beliefs, being pro-muggle for instance, they would get disowned. They all secretly wished to have been born under different circumstances.

At the Parkinson Summer Party the kids had looked as if they'd been through hell, being elitist was the epitome of it. At least on the train they looked a smidgen more hopeful and content, all due to the fact that they were going back to Hogwarts. 'Twas peculiar, all of them loved the school. However, they had to act as if they despised it and in a way they did; the muggle adoration and more recent views on topics and, to the pure community, issues and nuisances. Well, they had Slytherin House as a safe haven.

Agatha Burke was an elitist girl who had been through hell during the summer. She had always been met with a grain of salt, a critical eye, a judgemental whisper. She was not well liked by the student body but that didn't much matter to her, for she had always been feared and due to that she had been respected. It was all she really desired. Respect.

And even though purity was like a contract with a forged signature, it did come with its perks.

That Friday morning Agatha and her two girlfriends walked up the stairs to the great hall for luncheon after Potions.

"Excuse me," said an unknown voice.

The three girls turned around. A muggle born girl stood there, Ravenclaw.

"Yes?" asked Emma.

"I've been assigned to ask students questions for Muggle Studies."

Zelia started laughing, "We are not going to be of much help."

"Do you not already know enough, being mud-blood?" asked Emma.

She stared at them. "Never mind then." She then promptly walked in the other direction.

The girls turned to look at each other and then started laughing.

"Poor girl," chuckled Zelia as they entered the great hall.

Agatha rolled her eyes with a lopsided grin. "Salazar give me hope," she sighed.

They sat themselves down next to three boys.