The American Mudblood

Transfer Students

We sit at the tables in the dinning hall, waiting for the the Ofe to make any announcements so we can finally eat.

"I heard we have transfer students coming tonight," a girl a little ways down the table says over all the noise, "a brother and sister."

"I heard they're from America," the boy across from her adds, "and that they're mudbloods."

I sneer and roll my eyes, turning to Crab and Goyle.

"When are they going to stop letting filthy mudbloods into this excuse of a school?" I mutter.

"Donno," Goyle shrugs.

The pair have never been good conversationalists being that they're both halfwits. I'm not sure why I keep them around.

"Attention students."

"Finally," I look to Dumbledore.

"Tonight, we will be joined by two new students," he starts, "Derek and Milo Foster from America."

The doors open and two people walk in, neither one seeming to be impressed or enthused to be here.

Guess we have that in common.

The boy it tall with dark hair and pale skin while the girl is shorter with deep purple hair.

"My money is on Ravenclaw, for the both of them," Goyle says.

"I'd say Ravenclaw for the bloke, Hufflepuff for her," Crab counters.

"I'm with Goyle on this one," I add looking the siblings over again, "definitely Ravenclaw."

"I think the lad is gonna be Gryffindor," someone next to us says, but I ignore them.

The pair walk to the front where the sorting hat and Professor McGonagall waits for them.

"Derek Foster," McGonagall says loudly and the boy goes to her, taking a seat and waiting for the hat to me placed on his head.

The hat is silent for a few seconds before it shouts.

"Gryffindor!"

"Called it," the person from earlier says as Gryffindor's table cheers.

"Shut it," I snap at them then turn back to the girl.

"Milo Foster."

She goes up and sit, crossing her legs.

The sorting hat is put on her head and it immediately start talking.

"Such chaos," it starts, "such power. A nac for mischief. Better be.... Slytherin!"

My jaw drops and I look to Crab and Goyle, their faces just as shocked as mine as the rest of the table cheers.

"A mudblood. In Slytherin?" I hiss.

I look to the girl again as she stand, a smug smirk in her face as she looks to her brother, like she knew what was going to happen. Her brother looks disappointed.

As she walks over, she runs her hand through her hair and it changes colour, different shades of green placing with black.

"How'd she do that?" A girl asks in shock, "she didn't even pull out her wand."

She takes a seat at the end of the table as the head girl tries to introduce herself.

"I'm-"

Foster hold up her hand, silencing her.

"I don't care who you are, or what your status is," she says, "I can already tell you some type of 'authority'," she makes air quotes, "of the house so you should know this. I don't follow rules. I don't take orders. I set the last girl that tried to boss me around's hair on fire. So don't try your luck. As long as you take that that into consideration before you talk to me, we'll be good as gold. Okay?"

The girl is stunned, not sure what to say, so she just nods.

"Good," Foster gives her a smile and scrunches her nose in a mocking manner.

The food finally appears and people begin to dig in. I put a few things on my plate, glancing at Foster every now and again.

She hardly puts anything on her plate, taking small bites as she goes.

"So what year are you?" Someone asks her.

"Year six," she answers shortly.

Of course she's in the same year as me.

"So why did you transfer?"

"Got my brother and I kicked out of our old school."

Her disinterest in the conversation is clearly evident in her body language and lack of eye contact.

"How'd you manage that?"

"Set the Headmaster's office on fire."

The conversation ends just as fast as it started which seems to please her.

When the food disappears and the desserts appear in their place, I notice that she doesn't touch any of the sweets and instead waits for the meal to be over.

She's odd. Very odd.

Once the meal is finished, we head for the dormitory.

"Pure-blood," someone says to open the painting.

We all walk in but a few girls stop Foster from entering.

"Sorry, no mudbloods allowed," the girls snigger.

Foster raises her hand quickly to the girl's throat a blade now present in it.

"Call me that again," she hisses through her teeth, "and you won't have a tongue so say anything ever again."

The girls move and with a wave of her hand, the blade is gone and she walks in.

"How do you do that?" A boy asks her.

"Do what?" She raises a brow at him.

"Magic without a wand."

"Can't exactly whip out a wand in front of a Nomag," she says like it's obvious, "you learn a few tricks."

"Nomag?" I look to her in confusion.

"Non magic folk," she says slowly like I'm thick.

"We call them muggles," I cross my arms, "so you're allowed to do magic outside of school under age in America?"

"No," she scoffs, "but rules never stop me from doing anything."

"Oh I like this one," one of the boys say, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

"Get it off or you are gonna be short an arm," she says annoyed.

He quickly takes his arm away and backs up.

"The girls dorms are to the right," the head girl says, "curfew is ten pm. If you get caught sneaking out on the grounds, you'll get detention."

I can tell she's choosing her words carefully, making sure she doesn't sound like she's trying to tell her what to do, just warning her of what could happen if, no, when she breaks curfew.

"Good to know," she plops down on one of the couches, "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that the paintings might rat on me if I do sneak out."

"If they're awake."

"Okay."

She's definitely going to sneak out.