The Tribrid Slytherin (Draco Malfoy)

New Orleans

Crack. I emerge from the flames and smoke. Hesitantly, I take a step out of the unknown fireplace. Because of my impaired vision caused by the excessive layer of smoke and soot, I was unable to view the path ahead of me. Which to my surprise was nothing.

I fall face first, plummeting down five stories. I grip my wand tightly within my right hand and nonverbally cast a levitation spell seconds before I hit the ground. My breath gets caught in my chest as I hover inches from the concrete path. Then I drop, falling chest-first onto the ground, keeping my head up to avoid face injury.

Who the bloody hell decided to put a fireplace on the edge of a building? Obviously, M.A.C.U.S.A. chose the brightest witches and wizards for the floo construction department.

I stand up and brush off the extra soot and ashes from my muggle clothes. A small glass shard sat on a pile of rubbish, about the size of a Hogwarts: A History textbook. I bend down and fix my facial appearance.

My hair was a bit frizzy but that was nothing a simple nonverbal charm couldn't fix. I tilt the tip of my wand toward my matty mess of a hairstyle and twirl it, thinking of the incantation in my mind and reshaping my hair into neat curls.

I look around. It appears I am in an alley, narrow and grimy. I walk through until I reach the exit. The alley must have been as dark as a Gringotts vault because when I entered the streets, the light came tumbling into my vision, almost blinding.

Great, I was in the city.

Not quite where I needed to be.

I gaze around. Muggles rushed across the path in busy hoards. I maneuvered my way through the crowd. I tried my hardest to contain my anger when a very arrogant man shoved my shoulder as he passed, having the nerve to grumble "bitch." I nearly pulled my wand out on instinct but I had to stay collected.

The only thing that mattered was getting out of this city. To find him.

Olde Town Conyers, New Orleans.

That's where I need to be.

Out of the herd of muggles, a fiery redhead catches my attention as she waves her hand high in the air, dangling on the edge of the sidewalk. I curiously tilt my head to the side as I observed her. A yellow automobile materialized into view and stops in front of the girl.

She steps into the odd car. It drives away within seconds. Interesting.

I step up to the curb and wave my hand violently. To my surprise, a car identical to the one before came rushing to my service. Huh.

Just like magic.

Hesitantly, I reach for the car door and step inside. It smelt of grease and something Americans love... What was it? Ketchup.

I had to force my nostrils still as they began twitching from the revolting odor.

"Where to?"

I jumped out of my skin. A plump man sat in the driver's seat. He had short, brown hair with grey streaks of age. He peered at me through the rear-view mirror with brown eyes.

His voice was firm but kind. It welcomed confidence without enforcing it. He shifted uncomfortably at my unease. "Didn't mean to scare ya, ma'am."

"Oh, no-no you didn't. I apologize, I guess I'm just a little skittish today." I shrugged, clicking the seatbelt into place.

His eyes lit up, "A Brit I see," he beamed. "Only met a few in my life. This one young woman named Charlotte, I met her back in '65 when I had just started cab driving, she almost made me crash when she screamed I was driving on the wrong side of the road," he chuckled. "Nice girl." He quit rambling and lifted his head sharply, "So, where to?"