Here's a 1300-word response to my own Rewriting challenge on The Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum. It also fits the March 15th Prompt of the Day on Hogwarts Online: "Little Brother".

Warning: this is an extremely bigoted and slightly disturbing take on the creation of Mudbloods, based on the myth of Prometheus. Sue me, I'm a pure-blooded bitch ;)


Your challenge theme for the next two weeks will be: rewriting! I want you to pick a specific element or a storyline from either a myth, a tale or any piece of literary work, and use it within a Harry Potter story. Wordcount must be a multiple of 100. Set the Muses loose, people! ;)

"Tell us a story, Auntie! Tell us a story!"

Walburga smirked, looking down her nose at her oldest niece. "Aren't you too old for bedtime tales, Bellatrix?" she taunted.

The girl didn't back down. "I am, but not Cissy," she replied, "and it's always much more fun when it's you… Please!"

She sighed. "All right then." One hand carefully laid across her slightly swollen stomach, she sat in an armchair by the fire, while the three girls rushed to the nursery's couches, whispering excitedly. "Just one, and then I want all three of you in your bedrooms without the slightest delay! I am not your mother and shall tolerate no whining."

"Mother doesn't tolerate whining," Andromeda pointed out.

Walburga's eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't contradict your elders!"

Andromeda looked down, and Bellatrix fidgeted. "Our story, Auntie?" she demanded.

Walburga straightened up in her seat with a sigh. "Very well." A small smile grazed her thin lips. "Once upon a time, wizards were the only people of the earth. They lived there in harmony, enjoying their rightful position."

"They were the only ones?" Andromeda whispered, "there were no Muggles?"

A severe look came in response. "Use your head, Andromeda, this is what I just said." Walburga sighed with irritation. "So they lived alone and ruled the earth. However, one day two reckless brothers decided to experiment so they could create new beings.

The first brother took some rock and from it he moulded the goblins. He gave them keen eyes, so they could see the riches of the world, cunning brains to recognize and use them, and long fingers for seizing and crafting! He also gave them greed.

The wizards saw the goblins take all the gold, and they realized they should have it for themselves, for they had been there first. They claimed back the gold and used it as money. Then they built banks and let the goblins run them, so they could at least be useful.

The creator, Epimetheus, then decided to mould yet another species. He took some sand and some water and he designed the first house-elf. He gave it physical abilities in the form of great stamina, so it could serve the wizards well, a tiny brain and no willpower. Then he set it loose. The house-elf didn't know what to do with itself, so it came to the wizards who gave it tasks to perform, and also a cloth to cover its feeble body. Those were the wizards' great acts of kindness to the elves, and as was just and fair, the creature and all of its offspring became wizarding property in return, never to expect such favours again. So was the order of things, and all was well."

"What happened then?" Bellatrix murmured. Walburga looked down into the child's transfixed face, glinting black eyes holding her gaze fearlessly.

"Then," she spoke slowly, "Epimetheus created other creatures, so they would populate the corners of the earth the wizards had no use for, designing them as his fancy dictated. Giants, werewolves, centaurs, unicorns and trolls, fairies and dragons were born under his hand, beauty or ugliness fostered by the whims of his curiosity. And all throughout Prometheus, his younger brother, watched. He was awed at first, and then enticed, before finally, a mad jealousy started a vicious fire in him. Prometheus looked and looked for something of his own to shape and to craft, but all images that flashed through his brain, all material that fell under his hands wore the marks of his sibling's ownership. Nothing was new, and Prometheus seethed as his desire grew. Then his gaze fell on the wizards, before him, that ruled the world. They were above any of Epimetheus' creations, and young Prometheus smiled as he saw a way of surpassing all that had been done before. Caught in the folly of his project, he crouched low against the ground and gathered, in his bare hands, the dark, earthy-smelling mud that Epimetheus had not deemed worthy of his work."

"Ew!" Narcissa whined, stirring for the first time. Walburga glared viciously at her, and Bellatrix, breathless, pinched her arm. The little girl cowered against her sisters' sides.

"Yes," Walburga spoke again, her voice getting louder, "Prometheus dragged his fingers through the mud, and started moulding physical beings from the vile substance. He wanted them exactly similar to the wizards; he thought they could be brothers to this unmatchable race, and thus superior to any and every creature Epimetheus had ever crafted. But there was something he had not considered. Prometheus' mud men had no magic, and he was powerless to gift them with the few tricks that his brother had offered some of his creations. His misplaced pride would have kept him back anyway, for he wanted to make them equals to wizards and witches.

Naturally, the raw, primitive creatures Prometheus had crafted found nothing but scorn and disgust among all other human beings they were presented to. As they were born from the mud, the wizarding community called them Muggles and turned away in horror. Furious and frustrated, Prometheus roamed around brooding on his disappointment – until he stumbled upon a sad and distressing sight. A baby wizard had died, his feeble body too weak to survive; and as the tiny corpse came into his vision, Prometheus was struck by a most repulsive idea. He stole the little body, and squeezed from it, before it could fade into nothingness, the magical fire it had borne at birth."

Walburga's gaze swept over the cowering girls once more. "Yes," she said, "this vilest of men took magic from dead bodies, from children who had not yet revealed their powers, and fed it to his creatures. At first nothing happened, and Prometheus, dismayed, sent the horrid things away, deeming them a hopeless cause. But years passed and the Muggles reproduced; and although their race remained, on the whole, just the same, part of their offspring saw the long-stolen magic resurface from somewhere within joined the wizards to be educated; but those called them Mudbloods, for they could never forget where they came from."

Sighing, Walburga leaned back in her armchair. "And this is how Muggles and Mudbloods came to be, girls. Because of a foolish, foolish man named Prometheus."

"But what happened to him?" Andromeda questioned urgently, "was he judged for his crimes?"

"Oh yes." A cruel smirk appeared on Walburga's face. "The wizards would not let him walk away unchastened, of course. They captured him, bound him to a rock and charmed an eagle to deliver his punishment: the animal would come and devour his liver, but it would be healed before he could pass away, and then be taken again, and again, and again…"

"That's gross," Bellatrix muttered; her cheeks were aflame with excitement from the story she had just heard, and she was fidgeting in her seat, restless.

"Yes," Walburga agreed absent-mindedly, "rather dirty business."

"And the Mudbloods?" Andromeda inquired timidly, "it wasn't really their fault, was it?"

Walburga laughed cruelly. "Well, they were punished too," she replied. "The wizards sent them one of their women, a foolish, beautiful thing named Pandora. The Mudbloods swooned over her and thought she was a gift from the gods, but the lovely lady was bearer of a dark fate: she carried with her a cursed box, from which, as soon as she fell prey to the temptation of opening it, escaped jinxes and evils! That ought to have taught the foul creatures to keep away from true witches, for they could only be their downfall; alas, stupid as they are, they still admire and, sometimes, attempt to seduce us."

"In which they fail," added Bellatrix vehemently, shaking her head.

Walburga chuckled. "Yes, dear. In which they fail, for we are Toujours Pures."