L'amour Predestine

I pointed the wand dramatically at the invisible foe. "Die! You are no match for the mighty Draco Malfoy!" I shouted shrilly, flicking the strip of wood once more for good measure. Then I strode over, past the conquered villain, and bowed clumsily before the imaginary princess. Just then, my father entered the room.
"Hello, Daddy! Would you like to play wizard cops with me?" I exclaimed, running over and hugging his knees.
"Draco, I have not come to join in your childish games. It is time you learned of the Hogwarts houses." I scowled, irritated that he wouldn't play with me, and put the toy wand into a wooden chest. I then returned to my father's side, looking adoringly into his cool, reserved face. He turned on his heel and set off down the corridor at a brisk pace.
I already knew some about the four houses at Hogwarts, as our house was decorated mainly in the colors of one of the houses. The plush carpets around the mansion were varying degrees of forest and emerald green. Portraits along the richly decorated halls depicted scowling young witches and wizards in dark robes with silver crests. Even my play robes and wands had silver and green emblems proudly displayed. I quickly followed my father, our footsteps echoing on the marble floors.
"As you well know, son, Hogwarts is one of the three schools of magic. You shall be admitted there in five years, when you turn eleven. The students are divided into groups; the four houses." By this time we had arrived in the parlor. My father sat in a plush green chair, directly in front of the fire. He gestured for me to sit in front of him, then began speaking again. "Ravenclaw is for the sharp-witted, Hufflepuffs admire hard workers. Those in Gryffindor are brave and courageous. Slytherin is for the clever, ambitious, Pure-bloods."
"I'm brave and clever, Daddy! I want to be in Gryffindor or Slytherin!" For a moment, Lucius stared straight ahead, expressionless. Then he bent down slowly, clenched his jaw, and looked me in the eyes. Then I was sprawled on my side, forehead to the cold, unfeeling cherry floor. My left cheek stung and my eyes began to fill with tears. My parents had never been overly affectionate, but they had not ever slapped me before.
"We have pure blood, Draco. It makes all the difference. Gryffindor is a house for blood traitors, mudbloods and those too feeble minded to get ahead in the world. No son of mine will mingle with those below him in such a way. You will be in Slytherin, the king of the houses! Every great, powerful, pure-blooded wizard in the last hundred years has come Slytherin!" While my father continued to sing the praises of the Slytherin house, my mind wandered. I had clearly made a mistake in my father's eyes, something terrible. But if mentioning Gryffindor in a positive way was so horrendous, why was it still a house? And how did my blood set me apart from other children? Dismissing these thoughts, I decided to agree with my father, accepting that Gryffindor was a terrible house and that my father knew best.