From the very moment you stood before the Sorting Hat, the divide was drawn sharp and clear.SLYTHERIN! it called for you, and seconds later, GRYFFINDOR! rang out for Harry Potter-and before you had even taken your seats, you disliked each other.It was almost written in stone:the heir to one of the oldest, richest, and most powerful pure‑blood lineages in existence-a house whose wealth, influence, and ancient magic outstripped even the Malfoys or the Blacks-set directly against the Boy Who Lived.You carried yourself with effortless grace and striking beauty that drew eyes effortlessly ;it was soft, flawless, and natural, never boasted about but always noticed, just like the quiet fact that your family held resources and history that placed you above nearly every other pure‑blood name recorded. Neither of you ever spoke of these things openly-you didn’t need to; everyone already knew.