Part 01: The Black Letter
It has been several days since I have been staying at Prince Manor, and during this time, Grand Daddy Prince and I have engaged in numerous late-night discussions. Our conversations have ranged from topics such as the Ritual and my Goblin Fuck-over idea to more general inquiries about potion-making, magical genetics, and history.
One particularly fascinating topic that we delved into was politics. According to my grandfather, centuries ago, before the establishment of Hogwarts, the magical world operated under a predecessor to the current Wizengamot.
Representatives from various covens, tribes, and clans would convene annually for what essentially amounted to a New Year's festival, or as I understand it one big ass Orgy. During these gatherings, they would participate in rituals, engage in discussions regarding the decisions that needed to be made for the upcoming year, and do sacrifice people.
'Well, Grandfather didn't say people, but we both know he meant people.' I concluded.
He explained to me how over the years, there were significant changes that led to the current political situation, and in summary, it is a tale of mistakes, negligence, enormous levels of fuckery and stupidity.
'Seriously! The human race is destined to fuck itself in the arse no matter what!' I thought, when he narrated it to me. I mean, even with literally the power to change reality, they manage to screw it up.
By allowing and often ignoring the influence of the church and muggles, withholding crucial information, and isolating themselves, the magical community made it easier for Muggles to hunt them down one by one.
Additionally, their tendency to eliminate individuals with the potential to become powerful figures, such as potential Arch-Mages or Dark Lords, which are basically the wizard kind's equivalent of Jedi Grandmaster and Sith Lords. They only further weakened their own ranks, the idiots.
'The whole group of them motherfuckers cannot stomach that they need to sacrifice some power on a personal level if they want to save our kind.' I concluded silently.
Despite being aware of these historical blunders, many in the magical community remain unwilling to accept or even tolerate the possibility of another Dark Lord's rise or the emergence of a formidable Arch-Mage. The sheer power wielded by such figures is intimidating, and this fear regularly hinders individuals from uniting and fighting for their collective interests.
This is also the explanation, why magical Britain is seemingly eager to instigate another war; they yearn for a conflict where they can target Dumbledore and have the old goat fucker perish in the process.
Meanwhile, Gandalf, the stupid arse, driven either by spite because of not having sex in decades, a misguided sense of nobility, or his twisted notion of the greater good, has started to systematically dismantle the system established by the Pure-Bloods.
He forbids what he is unable to control, outlaws practices that give Pure-Bloods much of their advantages over the rest, and is basically against anything of which he lacks knowledge or that the Pure-Bloods did not disclose to the Ministry. All while elevating individuals who may benefit in the short term from the changing system, but are oblivious to the long-term losses incurred by their descendants.
After five generations of magical heritage, you are basically an established budding Pure-Blood family, but if all the advantages are gone, then you are the same as those who have started out recently.
What is then the point of aspiring and building a legacy, of working with others?
The question is, are you even able to? The government by that point has total control of your life, and controls how high you may rise, as they are holding all the cards.
Anyway, my grandfather was actively preparing me to become the heir of the Prince family, all the while indoctrinating me to hate the ministry with all my heart. He spent countless hours on my re-education, and being the stubborn old fool that he is, he insisted on conducting the training himself.
'Seems like being easily annoyed and bitchy runs in the family,' I mused happily, when I noticed how often he'd lose his shit about random shit.
Two weeks into my training, one morning, I suddenly received an owl. I couldn't help but wonder how the damn bird even found me, but apparently, they are trained for tasks like this.
'Fucking magical world! Trains birds to be better at finding people than fucking dogs!' I cussed at the damn bird.
Which is quite creepy if you consider using them to stalk someone who, let's say, is not magical. If she or he tries to evade capture, all you need to do is send out a letter via owl post, and follow the bird.
Dear Severus,
I trust this missive finds you in good health and high spirits. As the auspicious occasion of my annual birthday celebration approaches, it is with great pleasure that I extend to you a cordial invitation to join me in commemorating this joyous day.
On the eve of the seventh day hence, the esteemed halls of Black Manor shall resound with revelry and mirth as we gather to honour the passing of another year. The presence of esteemed individuals such as yourself would undoubtedly enhance the splendour of the occasion.
In preparation for the event, I would be most grateful if you could kindly inform me of your intention to join us, so that suitable arrangements may be made in accordance with your preferences. Your timely response would be greatly appreciated.
In eager anticipation of your favourable reply, I remain, with warm regards and utmost respect,
Your friend,
Regulus Arcturus Black
"Damn it! I knew he offered to invite me to his birthday, but I didn't think he would actually follow through!" I muttered to myself as I clutched the letter, uncertain of what to do next. This birthday party would mark my debut in high society, and I couldn't afford to make a fool of myself, not only for my sake but for the reputation of the Prince family as well.
"Hey Gramps, I received a letter and I need your advice," I announced as I entered his study.
The old man was engrossed in his usual activities, and I couldn't help but wonder what kept him occupied for hours on end. We didn't even have internet, or magical Porn—what could he possibly be doing in there?
"Oh, a letter from whom? A lady friend, perhaps?" he inquired with a twinkle in his eye, clearly eager for some juicy gossip.
"No, just from my friend Regulus Black. He's invited me to his birthday party," I explained, handing him the letter.
"Black?! Well, this is unexpected. It seems you've managed to forge connections despite your awkward social status. Nonetheless, it's a welcome surprise," he remarked after perusing the letter.
"So, what do you suggest?" I asked, eager for his guidance.
"We'll need to find a suitable gift for the lad and ensure you're dressed appropriately. No grandchild of mine shall make a fool of himself in front of others," he declared, calling for the house-elf. "Slavon!"
"Yes, Master?" Slavon responded dutifully.
"Take Severus to Diagon Alley. Help him select a few sets of clothes for various occasions, and assist him in finding a suitable gift for young Black. Nothing too extravagant, but nothing cheap either. He may be an acquaintance, but he's not yet a friend."
Part 02: The Ritual and Farewell
The whole gift-buying ordeal isn't my forte, but nonetheless, we managed to find something for Regulus: a set of robes enchanted to the max, designed in a regal style, yet in black.
According to Slavon, this is the most fitting birthday gift for someone whom you don't know well enough, but enough to want to make a great impression on.
I mean, the guy better be happy. This set of robes cost ten times as much as a wand, but apparently, this is well within reason for a birthday gift.
'I don't get rich people's logic...' I concluded mentally.
Anyway, currently I am standing naked in front of my father, who is also naked in the basement of the Manor, inside a burning circle of salt, dirt and blood.
My mother's bones are hovering around us, flying around in circle, which is creepy as fuck, but I am not gonna comment that to Grandfather.
Life has a funny way of playing tricks; apparently, I shall be as naked as the day I came into the world for the ritual, cleansing myself of the taint through taint.
My grandfather is standing just outside of the circle, his wand pointed towards the circle the two of us are standing in, and he is mumbling something in Latin.
I am not very fluent in the language, but from what I understood, he is repeating the sentence "By choice I discard, by choice I discard, and willingly I choose...".
Over and over again like a madman, but this is part of the ritual, I am doing this without being forced to, and it has to be made clear.
"Sev, why?" my actual father asks me with great difficulty. He has his legs and arms broken and looks as if he has been tortured for days, deprived of proper nourishment. His voice sounds hoearse, and the man looks like shit, basically, one can say that I am doing him a favour at this point.
According to the ritual's logic, I should win in a fight, but funny enough, there is nothing about my enemy having to be in fighting condition. Not that I wouldn't be able to take care of the man if he were in his best form, but my grandfather doesn't know that, and he wanted to help in his own twisted loving way.
"No hard feelings, old man. I am doing what I ought to do, just as you did what you thought you ought to do. You beat me up, let yourself go, and made my mother unhappy. And you did all that, despite knowing what she had sacrificed to be with you. You betryaed her love and trust, and now I am giving you a taste of your own medicine."
"I know, I commited many mistakes, son, but you don't have to do this," he says weakly.
"Stop thy whining, Bitch! I have to do this!" I say.
"But why?"
"The world is made up of choices, by men who are willing to choose. Those who don't choose perish alone and are forgotten," I say angrily. I have all of Severus's memories, well, my memories, and I can say my father is a shitty human. Not shitty enough to deserve death, but also not good enough that him being alive will benefit the world. He is like all other humans, just an NPC not aware that he is an NPC, unable to actually make decisions that will change the story for the better or for worse.
They are all just existing and waiting that someone comes along and gives their miserable lifes a purpose by exploiting them.
*Sigh*
"Farewell, Father!" I say as I plunge the dagger into his body. Instantly, flames shoot out of his wound and engulf me; I am burning.
'Fuck! This hurts more than I was told it would,' I curse, annoyed.
The act is symbolic, and I don't have to actually cut out his heart and eat it, or chop off his head and bathe in his blood, or something else like that, which is okay. I would have done it if it were necessary. But I am happy I didn't have to.
Eventually, the pain recedes, and I can stand up. The first thing I notice is that I feel weaker.
"Why am I feeling weaker?!" I ask, annoyed.
"Congratulations, Severus Ulysses Prince!" My grandfather says loudly as he approaches me and gives me a set of robes to hide my nakedness.
"Huh?!" I wonder where "Ulysses" came from.
"Well, traditionally you need a new name as my heir, and now you're deserving of one! Oh, and you'll feel weak for a few days due to basically having burned half of yourself away and replaced it with your Prince side," he explains.
"How does that even work?" I question.
"Well, technically, you are my grandson, but genetically you are now more like my son as you have only the template of your mother left in you. Well, magic, right?!" he says, as if that explains anything.
"I am tired. I need to find out what has changed later on, but for now... I ... will..." I didn't even manage to finish that sentence before I lost consciousness.
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