Celestia Eleanor Young is the newest generation of the Pure-blood Young family of Singapore. The Young Clan has the power of a monarchy and the wealth of a first-world country.
Not only does she have to prove herself to her family that she's capable...
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Today's gossip topic for breakfast is the crumbling Parkinson Empire. Daphne reads aloud the front-page of the Daily Prophet titled "Parkinson Family's Messy Divorce Reveals Underground FAIRY DUST Factory!". We all munch on our eggs and bacon as we snigger and slip in uncalled-for comments.
With the ugly divorce and the headline drug scandal, their family's reputation is in the gutter. Pratty, on the other hand, did not seem too affected by it. Or rather she is, but she has been too busy complaining and demanding pity and sympathy from her little posse who are all practically duplicates of each other. Just your typical group filled with racist, White, pure-blood witches.
They're considered "popular" enough, as expected from a horde of gossip-starved blabbermouths under the rule of the "Head Prattler", but they cannot match up to our level.
Our exclusive clique of six is far more superior than any of the other little groups of social-climbers. It has always been the six of us. Two united trios with bonds thicker than blood.
Respect comes in many ways. Those with good-natured hearts tend to think the best kind of respect is civil admiration. We, on the other hand, choose to think that respect is rooted in fear. True, forced respect can never be too faithful, but to stay in power means to always require the need of keeping others in their places, which is beneath us, always.
Vince and Greg are beasts with their intimidating presence and their violent nature, frightening others away into cowardice. They are the tail of our snake-like hierarchy, striking whoever dares to set a foot near. Daphne and Blaise tend to slither their ways into other cliques beneath us, just to get all the undisclosed gossip and news that can be deemed useful, and to influence opinions and conversations in our desire. They are the body of our snake, entangling their way around necks and lock them in their unaware cages beneath us.
Draco and I are the head of the snake. If there were two sides of a coin, we will always be on the same side. Our minds move uncannily alike, never having any huge disagreement besides something stupid. We latch our venomous fangs on whatever prey we target, biting into anything we desire, and sucking every bit of information until they shrivel up dead like rotten apples. Like a king and a queen, we will go to whatever extent we want to get what we desire.
Either the fellow young wizards and witches wish to be us, or they wish to be with us. Vince and Greg has their share of admirers, but Daphne and Draco has the most pursuers in our year. Boys want the hand of the most perfect and graceful pure-blood heiress, and girls want the current most powerful British pure-blood heir's ring on their fingers.
Make no mistake, Blaise and I have loads of admirers as well, but he could not care less and I know better than to assume authenticity in their affection. I am no stranger to the world of advantage and control. I'm completely aware of how most, if not all, of the boys—and girls—who are interested in me are only interested for my inheritance. I don't dare to consider otherwise.
