19 Oct 2024, 03:08
Bitterness of Solitude.
The week had dawned to an end with Friday morning. At this point, Meiyu had been at Hogwarts for over a month, slowly settling into her new life and the choices that would soon shape her into the witch she was determined to become. As she trudged into the Great Hall, seating herself at the Gryffindor table, her mind drifted, not toward spells or potions, but home.
It wasn't that she missed the city of Oxford, the quiet streets, or even her familiar room. Meiyu was far too proud to admit she was homesick. But the silence from her family gnawed at her. They had yet to write to her once since being sorted into Gryffindor, not a single word of acknowledgment. This absence felt like a deliberate statement. The lack of communication during such a momentous occasion in her life left her feeling bitter, growing resentment twisting in her chest like a thorn.
She glanced around the hall, watching as her housemates laughed and chattered over breakfast, their plates piled high with different assortments such as eggs and toast to fruit variations. Their lives seemed so simple, so carefree. Her peers seemed to fit into the unfamiliarity of the castle quicker than she had. Meiyu, felt... distant, as though a spectator in someone else’s dream. She had worked hard to maintain a composed, almost cold demeanour. It was more convenient that way.
As she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, she caught sight of the flutter of wings overhead. Owls swooped down gracefully, delivering letters and packages to students. A few parcels landed on the table in front of her, drawing excited gasps from her classmates. Meiyu turned her eyes away, knowing she wouldn’t receive anything. Given the absence of communication from her family, Meiyu was adamant she too, would not receive an OWL today.
One owl caught her attention. It was larger than the rest, with dark plumage that gleamed almost ominously in the candlelight. Its piercing eyes locked onto hers as it flew lower and lower, finally landing directly in front of her with an unnerving precision. Her heart froze.
There, clutched in its beak, was a letter.
The owl waited expectantly as she hesitated, staring at the folded parchment it carried. Slowly, she reached out and took the letter from the bird, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The moment the letter left its beak, the owl took off, vanishing into the air as quickly as it had previously arrived.
Meiyu’s gaze fell to the familiar, elegant script on the envelope. Her grandmother’s handwriting. Still unsure, she turned the envelope and upon recognising the Knight crest embedded in the wax seal, she was able to confirm the letter was from her.
Her stomach churned as she carefully opened it, dread creeping up her spine. This wasn’t a letter of warmth, a gentle greeting, or words of encouragement. No. She already knew, before even reading the first line, that this was going to be something else entirely. The weight of the Knight name loomed over her as she unfolded the parchment.
For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the letter in her hands, the sounds of the Great Hall fading into the background. Her chest tightened, breaths shallow and uneven, as her eyes began to scan the words.
Reducio
Dear Meiyu,
I trust this letter reaches you well, though I fear the words I am about to write will burden your heart as they do mine.
When I received your OWL of your placement at Hogwarts, I held a glimmer of hope, a belief that you would uphold the legacy that courses through our bloodline. The Knights have always been proud of our heritage, our strength, and our wisdom. The Sorting Hat's decision, however, to place you in Gryffindor, a house known for recklessness, impetuousness, and foolish bravery — brings great shame to our family.
For generations, we have upheld a standard of elegance and superiority, always keeping ourselves aligned with power, control, and the sharpness that runs through Slytherin’s halls. Your mother had the decency to uphold those values despite failing to place in Slytherin, even after leaving England, and I expected you to do the same. Instead, you have chosen to walk a different path — a path of disgrace, of weakness.
Do you even understand what you’ve done? You’ve aligned yourself with those who lack the vision to see the world as it is. Gryffindor is a house of those who act before they think, who sacrifice logic for fleeting ideals of courage. Courage, Meiyu, does not feed a family, nor does it uphold a dynasty. It crumbles in the face of power. Power is what we Knights are destined for, not these delusions of valour.
Blood matters. Lineage matters. And you have betrayed it. The fact that you stand among the very people our ancestors would scoff at — people who will never truly understand the honour that comes with bearing the Knights name — disgusts me.
Do not think I have forgotten who you are, Meiyu. I have seen the quiet strength in you, the potential to rise above these insignificant fools who surround you. Yet you squander it. You lower yourself to their level. Have you no pride? Have you no respect for what our family has built, for the sacrifices we have made? Perhaps the highland air has already tainted you. Perhaps the blood of the weaker world your father brought into the equation is diluting what once made you strong.
I can only imagine how they must see you now — a Knight, a daughter of our family, thrown into a house of brash idealists. Do you feel proud, Meiyu? Do you feel like you belong? I need you to understand this clearly: You do not belong there. No matter how much you try to fit into their world, you will always be a stranger to them. And when they betray you, because they will, you will realise just how far you’ve fallen. You will find yourself alone, and when that day comes, do not expect the Knight name to shield you.
Perhaps I should not be surprised. Perhaps your father’s influence has already poisoned your judgment. But I had hoped for more. I had hoped that you would carry on the purity of our legacy, that you would stand tall among those who deserved your respect. Instead, you have aligned yourself with mudbloods, half-bloods, and those who believe equality is a virtue.
Power defines us. You would do well to remember that.
This is not a letter of concern, nor is it one of guidance. It is a warning. If you continue down this path, if you allow Gryffindor’s values to warp the strength that lies within you, then you will cease to be a Xiang. You will be nothing more than another faceless witch, easily forgotten, and forever lost to history. Our name is all that endures. Do not forget that.
You are not my granddaughter if you continue like this. And you will not be welcome in this family if you insist on walking this shameful path.
Reflect on your choices, Meiyu. This is your final chance to prove that the Knight blood that runs through your veins is not wasted on you.
Agatha Knight.
As Meiyu read the letter, her heart raced, each word hitting her like a cold wave crashing over her. The message was harsh, laden with disappointment and judgement. Her grandmother’s disapproval was palpable, each sentence dripping with disdain for her being sorted into Gryffindor, a house that, in her eyes, was synonymous with recklessness and emotional weakness.
“You’ve shamed our family,” it read, “You do not belong there.”
Meiyu's breath hitched, anger and shame swirling within her like a tempest. She could feel the eyes of her housemates on her, the buzz of laughter and chatter suddenly feeling invasive. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back fiercely. She wouldn’t dare give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her break.
The letter felt heavy in her hands, a tangible reminder of her family's expectations and the suffocating weight of her heritage. Why couldn't they understand? Her thoughts raced as underlying bitterness resurfaced.
As the words blurred before her, Meiyu’s expression hardened, transforming her hurt into a steely resolve. She was determined to prove them wrong, to show them that she was strong enough to carve her own path, even if it meant standing alone. With a trembling hand, she crumpled the letter and shoved it deep into her bag, standing to leave the table and Great Hall.
From that moment on, Meiyu was not just fighting to be accepted in Gryffindor; she was fighting to reclaim her identity, even if it meant wrestling with the shadows of her past.
NOTE: letter (non-font) below...
Reducio
Dear Meiyu,
I trust this letter reaches you well, though I fear the words I am about to write will burden your heart as they do mine.
When I received your OWL of your placement at Hogwarts, I held a glimmer of hope, a belief that you would uphold the legacy that courses through our bloodline. The Knights have always been proud of our heritage, our strength, and our wisdom. The Sorting Hat's decision, however, to place you in Gryffindor, a house known for recklessness, impetuousness, and foolish bravery — brings great shame to our family.
For generations, we have upheld a standard of elegance and superiority, always keeping ourselves aligned with power, control, and the sharpness that runs through Slytherin’s halls. Your mother had the decency to uphold those values despite failing to place in Slytherin, even after leaving England, and I expected you to do the same. Instead, you have chosen to walk a different path — a path of disgrace, of weakness.
Do you even understand what you’ve done? You’ve aligned yourself with those who lack the vision to see the world as it is. Gryffindor is a house of those who act before they think, who sacrifice logic for fleeting ideals of courage. Courage, Meiyu, does not feed a family, nor does it uphold a dynasty. It crumbles in the face of power. Power is what we Knights are destined for, not these delusions of valour.
Blood matters. Lineage matters. And you have betrayed it. The fact that you stand among the very people our ancestors would scoff at — people who will never truly understand the honour that comes with bearing the Knights name — disgusts me.
Do not think I have forgotten who you are, Meiyu. I have seen the quiet strength in you, the potential to rise above these insignificant fools who surround you. Yet you squander it. You lower yourself to their level. Have you no pride? Have you no respect for what our family has built, for the sacrifices we have made? Perhaps the highland air has already tainted you. Perhaps the blood of the weaker world your father brought into the equation is diluting what once made you strong.
I can only imagine how they must see you now — a Knight, a daughter of our family, thrown into a house of brash idealists. Do you feel proud, Meiyu? Do you feel like you belong? I need you to understand this clearly: You do not belong there. No matter how much you try to fit into their world, you will always be a stranger to them. And when they betray you, because they will, you will realise just how far you’ve fallen. You will find yourself alone, and when that day comes, do not expect the Knight name to shield you.
Perhaps I should not be surprised. Perhaps your father’s influence has already poisoned your judgment. But I had hoped for more. I had hoped that you would carry on the purity of our legacy, that you would stand tall among those who deserved your respect. Instead, you have aligned yourself with mudbloods, half-bloods, and those who believe equality is a virtue.
Power defines us. You would do well to remember that.
This is not a letter of concern, nor is it one of guidance. It is a warning. If you continue down this path, if you allow Gryffindor’s values to warp the strength that lies within you, then you will cease to be a Xiang. You will be nothing more than another faceless witch, easily forgotten, and forever lost to history. Our name is all that endures. Do not forget that.
You are not my granddaughter if you continue like this. And you will not be welcome in this family if you insist on walking this shameful path.
Reflect on your choices, Meiyu. This is your final chance to prove that the Knight blood that runs through your veins is not wasted on you.
Agatha Knight.