Those Years Struggling to Survive in the Black Family

[Harry Potter first-generation fanfic]

Good news: I, Celine Black, have finally found my wealthy biological father's family!

Bad news: my father is dead, the current head of the family is my elegant but harsh aunt, and the house also has two brothers with completely different styles.

My eldest brother, Sirius, is the light of Gryffindor and a pioneer of family revolution. The way he looks at me is like I'm some Black family merchandise bought with free shipping on a shopping app.

"Stay away from me, Slytherin" — that was the first complete sentence he ever said to me.

My younger brother, Regulus, is a model Slytherin student and the family's hope. Every day he keeps wavering between "inheriting the family business" and "being inherited by the family business."

"Sister, this is the "Self-Cultivation of Pure-Bloods" that Mother asked me to give you."

And me, a poor child raised in a Muggle welfare home, suddenly having to face:

my aunt's KPI: keep an eye on my eldest brother, build connections, and revive the family;

my survival battle at magical school: how to live elegantly in Slytherin without being poisoned;

the "care" of my two blood relatives: one treats me like air, the other like a rival.

Fine, staying alive is still alive, but why do your looks at me keep getting stranger and stranger?

"Breaking legs? That's just the ordinary orthopedic drama of a family."

"In our Black family..."

"My eldest brother wants to take me and run away, my younger brother wants to drag me into inheriting the family business, and all I want is to quietly get all O grades."

Now, looking at the Black brothers facing each other in a narrow road, I hugged Advanced Potion-Making and sighed:

"Can't we wait until after I finish my NEWTs before discussing the family's ethical drama?"