HP: The Big Bad Wolf

[Part 01: Being an asshole runs in the Family]

As we eventually reached our final destination, bad wording! I don't want to set a flag!

As we finally arrived at King's Cross, a realization struck me—a slight oversight I had failed to consider earlier.

I contemplated the dilemma silently: How the flying fuck am I supposed to locate my Grandfather, aka Lord Prince? Growing up, I never laid eyes on a picture of him, and my mother never spoke about the man. He was never depicted in the movies either.

'How am I supposed to find him?' I lamented internally, kicking myself for not asking Regulus, or the man himself, while I had the chance.

Nevertheless, I shrugged off the concern. Surely, he would recognize me; after all, I am fabulous, bitches!

'I really should work on my Narcistic Tendencies!' I thought to myself, ever since I look fantastic, I've developed some unhealthy fascination for myself.

Exiting the train, I made my way onto the platform. Observing the bustling scene in front of me, I saw families reunite, some weeping, others hugging, as if they'd just survived the most challenging year of their lives. Amidst the emotional reunions, there were also individuals like me—lost amidst the crowd.

Perhaps they were orphans, or those with troubled family dynamics. Or perhaps, like me, they had yet to locate their families amidst the disgusting chaos.

As I made my way, I spotted Lucius and his father, the elder Malfoy appearing displeased at the idea of his son being ridiculed in school by a mere half-blood.

*Sigh*

'Don't I ever get a break from clapping asses?' I mused to myself, unafraid of confrontation or even violence.

Call me a sociopath or a psychopath, but I don't buy into the notion that human life is inherently precious. It's a fairy tale perpetuated by the church on behalf of the rich to keep the masses compliant and instil a fear of death.

And if someone dares to get their hands dirty, you toss them into prison before they can gather enough support to pose a threat to the status quo. It's absurd; the wealthy kill others for sport all the time, but if a poor person even thinks about it, suddenly it's a grave offence?

Before I could delve deeper into my disdain for the rich, the M&M's duo had reached me, ready to give me a piece of their minds.

"So you're the dirty half-blood who's chosen to bite the hand that feeds him?" Lord Malfoy asks me, his disgust evident.

I notice some redheads from the side moving closer; I assume they're Weasley's. They always seem to be around, ready to engage in a feud with the Malfoy's. It's become a family hobby at this point.

"Hello there," I say, looking at the older man as if he's an idiot.

"Hello there?" he questions, clearly puzzled.

"Well, last time I checked, you start a conversation with a greeting, unless you have absolutely no manners, like some backwater hillbilly," I retort, feigning shock at his lack of basic social etiquette.

*Snort*

I can hear someone trying to suppress a laugh but failing miserably, which is worse than just laughing outright.

"I deemed you unworthy of a greeting," Malfoy declares.

"Oh, well, okay. Have a nice day!" I reply casually, turning to move away. Why bother talking when I'm deemed unworthy of even a simple greeting?

*Snort*

Once again, the repressed snicker.

"Boy, you dare to turn your back on me?!" I hear an extremely angry voice from behind me.

*Sigh*

I turn back to the fool with bleached hair and decide to explain to him why he's a motherfucking idiot! I don't know how to deal with idiots besides messing with them. "Well, I don't know what to do then, Sir?! You don't want to greet me like a decent human being, meaning you don't want to talk with me, but when I try to leave, you get pissed off! Seriously, Sir, if you have mental problems, then please seek help at St. Mungo's. I may be quite educated, but I most certainly am not good enough to treat people. Lucius, please take your ill parent and seek some help for him. Having a man with mental problems run around and make a joke out of himself in public is surely unbefitting of House Malfoy, right?!"

*HAHAHAHAHAHA*

I see the redheads break out in laughter, unable to contain themselves much longer.

In the next second, after the slow-ass brains of the blonde duo process what I've said, they both pull out their wands and are about to spell me back to my ancestors. But then I see Malfoy Senior falling down and crying out in pain like a bitch.

Lucius still throws a spell at me, which looks like a glowing red ball of pain and agony, but I just sidestep and allow it to hit the person behind me, who starts throwing up blood.

"Well, that one has to hurt," I say, and I see the redheads pulling out their wands and attacking Lucius, who tries to defend himself. Then even more people join in.

All the while, I see the older blonde squirming on the ground like a bitch, and I decide to have some fun while everyone else is preoccupied.

I summoned his wand to myself and strode over to the squirming piece of shit, delivering two swift kicks to his Pure blooded balls, hearing a satisfying crunch. Moments later, I heard a voice say,

"Well, you must be my grandson?"

Turning around, I spotted a man in his late 40s. Despite his graying hair, he was impeccably dressed, a far cry from the mental image I had of my grandfather, who should be around 70.

"Are you Lord Prince?" I inquired, seeking confirmation.

"I am," he confirmed with a nod.

"Well, you're looking much younger than I expected," I remarked, taken aback.

"Magic," he said, with a smirk, before adding, "And money."

"Why did you help me?" I asked, seeking clarity if he was the one who took care of the older Malfoy, and if yes why so.

'I don't want to owe anyone any favours.'

"Ah, you seemed quite capable on your own, but a grandfather must ensure a good first impression," he replied, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

"What spell did you employ?" I inquired with curiosity, if I get that spell I'd be able to beat people with too much of a hassle.

"Let's depart before the Aurors arrive," he urged, grasping my hand and leading me away.

"Slavon, fetch the children's belongings to the manor," he instructed, prompting a house-elf to appear and whisk my belongings away.

After moving a safe distance from the brawl, my grandfather apparated us to safety.

Before leaving, he revealed the spell he used, "I applied a Crucio on the blond's arse! Who does he think he is, attacking royalty?"

[Part 02: Talking with Gramps.]

The first thing that struck me upon regaining my senses is the sheer size of Prince Manor. It is one big ass monument of showing off, its walls adorned with portraits of old and honoured witches and wizards from the Prince family, all seemingly scrutinizing me as I entered.

"So, what's your opinion?" my grandfather inquired, breaking the silence.

"Opulent. Way too opulent for my taste," I replied, my tone devoid of enthusiasm. Displaying one's wealth in such a flamboyant manner seemed unnecessary to me; history had taught that lesson well enough.

Just look what happened to King Louis of france, he got offed because he loved opulence more than he loved his people.

*Sigh*

"You'll get used to it! Seems like I need to rid you of your pleb mentality," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

'Damn it! Old man, who are you calling pleb?!' I thought, feeling a pang of annoyance.

"So, what was that about royalty? You mentioned it before apparating us away," I probed, curiosity piqued.

"Oh, it appears your mother hasn't told you anything about anything! Well, let's get you into some proper clothes, feed you, and then I'll explain everything. No offense, but the way you look I feel kinda offended to be in the same room as you!" Grandfather declared, gesturing for me to follow him through the sprawling manor.

'Motherfucker!' I cussed at the old man mentally.

As we wandered through the halls, he showcased his wealth and level of fitness with evident pride. Eventually, he summoned another house-elf named Slavto, instructing him to assist me in washing, dressing, and preparing for dinner.

"How did you pick the names?" I inquire, genuinely curious.

"Oh, that's a family tradition. We call them Slave-One, Slave-Two, and so on, but we shorten it to make it sound more like a name," he explains matter-of-factly.

'Well, he is a pure-blood. What was I expecting?' I think to myself, mildly amused by their naming convention.

After completing my washing, dressing, and dining, I found myself seated in my grandfather's study. He poured us each a glass of wine before settling back into his seat.

"Wine, really?! I am a minor!" I say to the old man.

"Nonesense! I started drinking at the ripe age of 12!" he declares proudly, fucking alcoholic.

"Well, okay."

"Okay, Severus, let's talk," he begins.

"Royalty?" I interject, eager to delve into this revelation.

"Well, the Prince family traces its lineage back to the British Royal family. At some point, one of the royal family's children exhibited magical abilities, and thus he was sent to Hogwarts. Given the situation it was clear that we need a representation in magical britain, and so the surname Prince came to be. From there, our family emerged. Even now, every few generations, we have intermarriages when a member of the Royal family who possesses magical ability. They marry into our family to seamlessly integrate themselves into magical Britain, and not lose their nobility," he explained.

"Huh? Then are the Sacred Twenty-Eight families also nobility?" I ask, pondering the implications of the revelation.

'If Britain has magical royals! what about the rest?!' I wonder.

"Hahaha, god no! Those bastards aren't nobles. Well, not all of them, at least! The Blacks are nobility and a few others, but the main reason why they're called the Sacred Twenty-Eight is because they're the families that have managed to produce a Dark Lord, and because they're the group of assholes who conspired against the Big Five," Grand Daddy Prince explains.

"Who are the Big Five?" I ask, curious about the actual hidden story of magical Britain.

"What do they teach you kids in school? Four of the Big Five are the ones your Hogwarts houses are named after, and the last one is House Pevere, or Peverell as they became later known in Britain. Said house had the most knowledge about Magic, and they conquered great parts of Britain when they came with the Romans. They were powerful, but eventually fell due to betrayal and infighting," he shortly explains.

'Da fuck?' I curse mentally.

"So the Sacred Twenty-Eight are all families of Dark Lords?" I ask him.

"Well, yeah. Someone comes along, becomes super powerful, kills a bunch of people, creates his legacy, and dies. This is how it goes. But eventually, they all fall. Magic is fickle like that! Even our family is close to falling, as I am the last Prince," he says with a heavy tone.

"Well, you shouldn't have kicked my mother out of the family then," I say with a snarky tone.

[Part 03: The Offer]

"What would you know?! Your mother has caused more trouble than I could stomach!" He says a bit too loudly.

"How so?" I ask the old man, trying to understand where he's coming from.

"Do you know why the term 'Pure-Blood' is important?" He asks me.

"Isn't it just a term to justify their cockiness?" I ask him.

"No! Pure blood has a very real impact on our society, unlike what they want you to believe in school! The Ministry is full of assholes nowadays," the old man drifts off into his hate for the government.

"What is their impact?" I ask to get him back on track.

"Magical awakening. The first one we call Muggle-born because they awaken from parents that have no magic! This is the first magical awakening, the second one usuall happen after three generations of magical heritage, and the third one after seven generations, but generally the older the lineage, the more powers a bloodline develops! Such as the Slytherin families' Parseltongue, the Black family's Metamorphmagi, or the Gryffindor's accursed charisma, which bordered being under an Imperius curse. The more magical a bloodline gets, the stronger the offspring, but suddenly marrying a Muggle or Muggleborn undoes the work and sacrifices of centuries away!" He explains.

"So being a Pure-Blood has extreme advantages and the only disadvantage is that you need to find a matching partner, right?" I ask him.

"Way more advantages than disadvantages, but yes," he replies.

"And my mom threw us back by decades on this path, right?" I ask for clarification.

"Your mother, my daughter, was a complicated woman. She loved herself more than she loved the family. In her mind, a family has to support her, but she has no obligations towards the family, and this led to her discarding everything I and my ancestors worked for," he says as he drinks his wine.

"So is there a way for me to repair the damage?" I ask.

"Sure. There is a way, but I don't think anyone will be willing to go through with it, and it is also against the law," he says as he leans back to observe the ceiling of his study.

"What is the way? If my mother was unwilling to sacrifice, then it falls unto me to sacrifice, right?" I ask him as I wait for his reply.

"There is a ritual. You have to discard your Muggle heritage through the sacrifice of your Muggle parent, but if said parent has already died, then there is no way to go through with the ritual," he explains to me.

"So I have to commit patricide?" I ask him, shocked.

"If you want to become a Prince, then that is the only way. You have time to think this through for as long as your father is still alive..." He tries to calm me down.

"I will do it!" I say resolutely.

"What?!" he asks, shocked.

"I said I am willing to go through with the ritual!" I repeat myself.

"Why? How?" he asks, a bit shocked at how easily I agreed to what basically amounts to killing my own father.

"You don't know it, but that man is a monster! The amount of pain he has brought upon me and my mother is enough for me to kill him just for laughs and giggles, but in this way, his death will at least have a purpose," I say to him.

"Okay, I will prepare the ritual, but I think we have talked enough for one night, Severus," Grandfather says as he calls for an elf and basically calls it a night for both of us.