I am a pure blood. My father is a wizard, who doesn't use his power. According to him, magic is a curse. He says it runs in our veins and corrupts us. Unfortunately, from my fathers side, paranoia and illness runs in the family. Sometimes it skips generations and sometimes it doesn't. Currently, he is fine and just doesn't use anything to do with magic. He used to believe he was a Muggle at some stage and refused to use magic. At this stage he was very ill and my family locked him up in his room, afraid he'd never get any better.

I quietly opened the door. The room was dark, faintly smelling of rotting flesh. The room was bare, save for a small, dingy bed and a paint crusted bed side table. Lying, pale and very still was a thin man. His opened slowly. I felt my hear racing. This was my father. His face was pale and thin, with a horrible sickly look.

"Come here." he muttered beckoning me forward. I obeyed, slowly stepping toward him. My father grabbed my arm when I was within arms reach. It frightened me. The look on his face, his bony arm. He was practically, bones, only held together by his opaque skin. "Clarabelle, my dear, never use magic. Do you understand?" he huffed.

All I did was nod in fear. In all my life so far, I had never been more scared than seeing my father in his state. "Do you promise?" he asked raising his voice, causing him to collapse back into the bed. Head on pillow. Very still. My mother bolted into the room, thrusting me into her arms. "Promise me!" screamed my father, at the top of his voice. I felt like I would scream. Running from the room, my mother locked the door and waved a finger at me, after we were away from the room where my father lay, terribly sick. "Let your father have his rest. If he gets lots of rest, he'll get better. Do you understand?" I nodded, but soon found myself crying. "Its okay, sweetie," in a soothing voice, my mother said. "Everything will be okay, just let your father rest." 

My father doesn't use magic anymore and considers himself as a Muggle but he has magic blood. He is by far better now. No longer, with any illness.

My mother uses magic constantly on the other hand. Though my father disapproves of her use, they still love each other. My mother was a Charms professor, well she is qualified to be one, though she prefers to be a house mother. During my father's time of sickness, she cared for my brother and I, while taking on my father's job as a shop assistant at Obscurus Books. I always thought my mother was a strong woman and she is. She loves writing and while she worked at the book store, she read numerous books while customers weren't in the store. This sparked her inspiration and she is currently writing a book, that she may self publish.

I also have an annoying younger brother, who is also a wizard. He doesn't do much, except for eat, sleep, play video games, repeat. When he's older hopefully he'll be invited to Hogwarts. I'm not so keen on the idea but I guess I'll have to live with it. I survived before... I can do it again!