The American Mudblood

Dinner

When dinner arrives, I do take Ron up on his offer, sitting beside him at Gryffindor's table.

"Hey, short stack," Derek greets me as I sit down.

"Hey, treetop," I smile at him.

I know he was upset yesterday, when the hat placed me in Slytherin, I could see it on his face.

"Did Snapple have you demonstrate for class?" He asks as he shovels a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

It takes e a second to put the pieces together and I chuckle when I do.

"Yeah, you?"

"Sure did," he chuckles.

Derek's animal is a large, black wolfhound. He mastered transfiguration before I did. I remember night when I would snuggle into his fur to keep warm in the abandoned warehouse before I finally mastered it too. After that, we would curl up together, sharing body heat through the winter.

Derek, also being a year older than me, was always very protective. Even when the sweet couple found us and took us in, he was always on edge, making sure I was safe.

Sergei and Margie were a magic couple that had heard about a panther and a wolfhound coexisting in a ware house for nearly a year and decided to investigate. When they found us, they immediately knew what we were and took us in, giving us food, new clothes, warm water to bathe in, and a roof over our head that didn't threaten to come crashing down on us at any given moment.

Our real parents were nomages and didn't want anything to do with us. They told us we could go play at the park a few blocks away and when we came back two hours later, they were gone. We never saw them again. Derek was eleven and I was ten at the time. We didn't know what to do. We figured that if our parents didn't want us, no one would. So we grabbed a few bags, stuffing them with food and clothes and found somewhere we could hide away from the world. We moved from warehouse to warehouse and barn to barn for almost four years, collection any information on magic that we could. We stole a book from some girl's bag one day and that's how we learned about how to cast spells and how to transfigure. When we finally mastered it, we decided to stay put.

Sergei and Margie put us in school, helping us to get caught up to the other kids our age.  My behavior got us kicked out of two schools, the finally one having the Congress revoking my wand.

That's a secret that I'm not ready for anyone but Derek to know at this school, though I suspect it will be made evident soon. I've managed to figure out simple magic I can do without my wand, but I didn't it will get me by here.

The conversation is pleasant at the table, no on even bothered my the fact that I'm at the wrong table. That is, except for the Slytherin table.

I keep getting glares and sneers from them, but I can hear some snickers and chuckles of amusement every now and then. Degrading and belittling me, no doubt, being that I'm at the wrong table.

I roll my eyes and ignore the looks, continuing to enjoy my time with Derek and his friends.

When the meal is over, I head for the library, in need of a book for my divinations class. It's a fascinating class, albeit a bit strange, but fascinating none the less.

My arm is suddenly grabbed and I'm dragged to the back of the library, my shoulders pinned to one of the shelves.

"You're making Slytherin look bad," the white haired boy before me hisses through his teeth.

"And how am I the one doing that, Mouthboy?" I raise a brow, "seems like you and your lot do just fine making yourselves look bad."

"You're making us look pathetic, hanging around with Gryffindor and sitting at their table," he growls, "you're a Slytherin, you will sit at the proper table, mudblood or not."

My eyes narrow at him.

"What did you just say?" My voice is quiet and full of menace.

"You will sit at the proper table," he leans in closer, pressing my shoulders harder into hw shelf but I ignore the pain.

"After that," I snarl, "what did you call me?"

He pauses before a evil little smirk appears on his lips, knowing he's struck a nerve.

"Mud. Blood."

He's so close now that I can feel his breath on my lips as he looks down at me, being that he is a whole eight inches taller than me.

I jerk my head forward, connecting my forehead with his nose quickly, grinning as I hear the satisfying crunch.

He stumbles back, holding his nose.

"Be grateful that I didn't pull out my knife," I glare at him, "don't fucking call me that."

I turn to go back to get the book I needed in the first place, leaving him to his broken nose.

I feel the throbbing pain in my head as I walk away, internally groaning.

No one ever wins with a headbutt.

After retrieving the book, I go to the hospital wing to find Mrs. Pomfrey.

"Hello, dear, is there something I can get you?" She asks, her tone very friendly but I can hear a bit of exhaustion in it.

"Something for a head ache?" I give her a small smile.

"Of course," she returns my smile, hurting over to a small cabinet and pulling out a small vial, "this should do the trick, just make sure to drink plenty of water with it. If it doesn't get better, come on back and we'll try something else."

"Thank you," I take it from her gently.

"You know," she says thoughtfully, "you're very nice for someone in Slytherin, the others are so demanding and impatient."

"I'm nice to people who are nice to me," I say tucking the vial away in my robe pocket, "you're a nurse, you help people. So what reason is there to be mean?"

She seems stunned by words at first, but smiles.

"None I suppose."

I nod and leave the wing, headed for the dorms to, hopefully, finally be able to study in peace.