Pure

The next morning when I went down for breakfast, Father looked uncharacteristically solemn. I was sure he had sent my mother up to talk to me last night and she had told him about my vehement reaction. If he was hurt, I was devastated. I had always been extremely close to him; I'd aspired to be just like him, but now that couldn't be farther from the truth. Mother's words had damaged the situation more, if that were possible.

I had read quite a lot about the Dark Lord, and it turned my stomach to think that he wanted to find him to try and help him, the monster who had murdered hundreds and destroyed so many lives and families. Worse even than Grindewald, whose stories had always sent a shiver down my spine. Though, Father, I thought bitterly, probably had taken lessons from him.

My appetite was normally quite vigorous, but I could barely manage to swallow the small bite of toast I had taken. Mother would look at my every now and then from the corner of her eye, but Father was blatantly staring at me, his blue eyes spilling all the words he wasn't saying. Pursing my lips, I tried to ignore it and the plethora of emotions colliding together inside; I was completely miserable and it wasn't even ten o'clock.

Finally, he spoke. "Prinzessin," his voice pleaded and I looked at him, instantly taken aback; his eyes were full of tears. "I never vanted you to know. You are my light, my engel*. You must know anything I do, I do it to protect you. The Dark Lord- he vill come back, and ven he does, I vant to be sure vee are protected. He vill punish me by hurting you and your mother; I cannot let zis happen. Bitte, verzeih mir*."

By the time Father finished speaking, tears were streaking their way down my cheeks and I could barely keep myself from sobbing. I still knew it was wrong, cowardly even, the route he was taking; instead of standing up to the evil man, he was following him- but, he did it for us. Standing from the table, I hurried over and threw myself into my father's arms. I let all my feelings erupt and distantly I realized as I broke down, that Father was crying just as hard as I was.

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My views on their supremacy have never changed; it literally turns my stomach to think of innocent people being murdered because of their birth. People are all the same underneath our skin. We all have hearts, feelings, lives and the right to live. No one should decide if someone is worthy of life or not. I've often, disgustedly, wondered if my parents would have killed me, if I'd been born to someone else and happened to be a muggle born, or if I'd turned out to be a squib.

Though I've never said this to my parents, I know they suspect I feel this way. It's a subject of taboo, the Dark Lord and all their beliefs. It's a sign of how much they respect and love me that it is so. Many parents have tortured or disowned their children for such "rebellion", but I think they, deep down, believe my views will change as I age. They are sadly mistaken.