This chapter is an entry for the #Bronte200 contest.

The carriage ride was miserable.

During the half-a-day ride, I can't stop myself from grumbling, feeling querulous. The paths we crossed were bumpy, the horses were walking too slowly, and to top it all-Alberic!

My explosion-obsessed neighbor, who happened to receive the same letter as I did. Such a shame-I expected to boast it to him.

Why should our parents put us in the same carriage, despite knowing our bitterness towards each other?

"Jethro Earnshaw, yes?" The coachman approached, with a bowl palmed on his trembling hands. Instinctively, I stood up and opened a vacant spot for the poor, exhausted guy, and placed his bowl full of soup on the wet grass.

He smiled genuinely in return, sitting carefully on the ground. Judging by his face, he must be above sixty. Wrinkled face, squinting eyes...

"Ouch!" I almost knocked him sideways when a harsh force shoved from my right. I glared at the doer, who's none other than my fellow passenger himself-Alberic Grunnion.

"Alberic! Are you not satisfied with bothering me all day?" I scolded, frowning deeply at his mischievous, punchable face.

Leaving to Hogwarts should've freed me from his torture, but apparently...

"That's not good, son." A hoarse, shivering voice chimed in. The coachman, despite already wearing a warm set of clothes, is still trembling within his wrapped blanket. "You shan't..."

"Yeah, sir." He shrugged nonchalantly, slamming his bowl of soup to the ground and splattered some drops to random directions.

In an irked demeanor, I rose with my empty bowl, rushing to the other side of the coachman. Leaving Alberic alone, being the farthest between us three.

I spooned a ladleful of steaming soup from the black pot and poured it into my bowl, where a warm sensation emanated from later. I observed the soup with my wooden spoon, checking for any insects...

"What did he do to you, boy?" The coachman shuffled closer to both the flickering bonfire and me, seeking for more warmth in the chilly night.

Alberic's behaviors had driven me nauseous almost the entire ride.

"He stole my suitcase's key and ransacked the insides, which mom had packed so neatly." My voice quivered, containing the anger and irritation I've tried to bury. "He impudently unloaded my stacks of paper, and read my private diary out loud. Including insulting my relative, which was of a different race."

Hence, my bottled resentment burst out once more.

"He treated me harshly when I avenged him by doing the same. Can't you drop him somewhere and leave him there?" I pleaded, hopeful of his agreement.

He seemed to be thoughtful as he played with his spooned carrot. "So, that was why the carriage shook horribly all along." He gave a little, halfhearted smile my way. "However, I can't, since his parents paid me too, boy! To be honest, I'll be delighted to get rid of him from my beloved carriage." He whispered in my ear, and I chuckled.

It's been a day since we met him, and he has been displeased at the sight of Alberic. Serves him right for being a bully he is.

"Ah, too bad. Say, sir, when'll we continue our trip?" I glanced at the two restless horses, which neighed irksomely now and then.

Maybe damp grasses aren't their type of resting place.

"Tomorrow, as early as possible. When the sun appears. Your school's still far away." He pointed over the distance, where there's nothing but shaped darkness.

Another long ride with Alberic it'll be.

"You're a nice kid, Jethro. I'll help you." He crossed both his legs and put his empty bowl on it. Scratching his bare chin, his eyes gazed to nowhere in particular. "If he ever teases you again, you can call me. I'll find you a place on the driver's seat."

I laughed aloud for the first time in a while. Driver's seat? Where does he expect me to sit-on his lap? It only fits for a person.

"Don't you mind, kid. This old man will help his best. After dinner, please ask your friend to help with striking the tent. My bones are too vulnerable for this... Youthful activities."

I nodded curtly and returned his small smile.

As soon as he stood up and returned to the carriage to gather our camping equipment, my eyes drifted towards the scornful looking boy, who's throwing a cynical look at me.

Ugh, how I hate this adventure. If it isn't for the pleasant coachman, I would've jumped out of this carriage and went straight back home!

"Oh, Earnshaw, look at your family tree! How could they look all high-and-mighty while you're looking silly?" A jeering voice looped in my head, urging my tears to burst out. "Hey, they rhymed! How about... Jethro Earnshaw the Jackstraw!"

I nearly teared up again when the painful words Alberic spat this noon replayed continuously in my head.

Why does this have to happen to me? Am I so pathetic and pitiful in everyone's eyes?

If I followed my heart, it wants to stay home and never go to other schools anymore. It's still vivid, the day when my previous school's principal called my parents and asked me to move to a different school because I'm a poor, ill-fated punchbag.

But if I rejected the acceptance letter to Hogwarts, I feared what to come.

As much as I fear this new world, I'm also curious.

"Come and help with the tent, Jethro. Have you done your dinner?" The coachman stacked a plentiful amount of objects next to me, puffing unpleasant scents into my nose.

"Almost." I stammered between my sudden sneezes, my spoon dangling dangerously in my grasp.

God, my allergy's reacting again.

"Aaa-" I lifted my head, about to blow another sneeze when a force jerked my body backward, sent me tumbling headfirst on the grass. A couple of disgusting clumps slipped through my opened lips, and I sputtered them out disgracefully.

A loud, satisfied cackle reverberated through the air.

Almost all of my outfit were littered with grasses. They were persistent enough to resist my aggravated pats.

"Alberic!" I growled, and unhesitatingly dashed for the carriage, where our suitcases lied on the floor. I slammed mine open and grabbed a wooden stick mom tucked in the corner of the suitcase.

With a raging fury, I pointed it towards him and yelled, "Flipendo!"

A spark exited from the tip, hitting Alberic square in the chest and slammed his back onto a nearby giant tree.

Bam!

Astonished at what the wand can do, I rooted there, stupefied. The coachman clasped his mouth in shock, and scurried to Alberic's side, who's rolling on his back and groaned like a breeding lamb.

W-what did I do...? I didn't mean it!

Pop!

I turned my back and found an intimidating man, dressed in dominant black and a boater hat. He's far bigger than the three of us, striding grumpily with a frown on his face.

As if it isn't bewildering enough, with a flick of his wand, he cast a spell upon the gawking coachman. He immediately fell to the ground, face first, motionless.

It all happened so quickly that I don't even have a chance to save him.

"No!" I shuddered, scuttling to the fallen man's side. I kneeled abruptly, shaking his still body with all I have. "Sir! Wake up!"

"Let him be, kid. He's a Muggle." An authoritative voice sounded out, which boiled my insides. What a careless dude! How can he do it to an elder?

Muggle. Does it mean normal people?

"Vermin." Another balloon pop resounded next to the carriage. This time, a tall man with a pointed hat and beard appears. A shawl was hung around his neck, increasing his dislikable aura.

I gulped. Is this because I cast that spell, which I read shortly before departure?

Fear crawled up my insides, and I sweated profusely because of it. What if I got expelled? Or worse?

"Ah, Phineas." The first guy's tone sounded grumpy and reluctant. "A midnight walk?"

"Blame your minister, Vermin." The second man stepped forward, approaching the first one. "What's going on here? Why did you Obliviate that... Uh, Muggle?" Our eyes met briefly, and hurriedly I averted mine. His deep blacks terrify me in a weird way.

The first man glared my way, full of dislike and resentment. "This Muggle-born kid broke the law. Is he goin' to your school, Phineas?"

"Ask him." The second man clucked his tongue and chose to stride towards the injured Alberic. Goodness, I even forgot that he's here all the time...

"What's your name?" The harshly asked question was directed at me, and I've no choice but to face this terrifying stranger.

"Jethro Earnshaw."

"Show me your Hogwarts letter." He stared with a piercing one, coercing me to leave Mr. Coachman all by himself until I find the acceptance letter.

My heartbeat stormed forcefully in my chest. My grip was slippery and nervous. Everything I touched fell back to the suitcase, either with a loud thump or a mere squeak.

When I found the ancient envelope, I slammed the lid of my suitcase and exited the carriage, almost swooping nose-first. The cold night wind whipped my sweaty back as I rushed to the waiting man's side, handing him the letter.

He snatched it impatiently, reading each engraved words thoroughly. I bit my lip at the sight of his bony, branchlike fingers, which seemed to be able to crush the letter at the first try.

Above all days, why should unluckiness strike me today?

"He is, Phineas." He called out, and the scowling man returns his gaze. "A first year."

"No wonder." The man named Phineas grumbled, scoffing at the two of us. "I'll leave it to your hands, Vermin. Good luck taking care of the little Mudblood."

A part of me sank as he uttered those words. I ever read it, somewhere. Judging how dirty it sounds, the meaning mustn't be good.

"Ahem. So..." The man called Vermin stared at me lazily, clearly loathing this job. "You just violated an unspeakable law which bans wizards under 17 years old..."

"It was an accident!" I exclaimed in defense for myself. "I... I was emotional... He... That boy-" I shakily pointed to the unconscious Alberic, suddenly experiencing guilt for knocking him out. "I... Flipendo was..."

"You'll come with me." Vermin grabbed my wrist abruptly, dragging me with him while I'm protesting with all I have.

"This is a mistake! Listen to me, sir!" I pleaded tearfully. What would I say to my parents when they receive the embarrassing expulsion letter? No, I can't let it happen! It wasn't my fault that I cast that spell! "Mister Vermin, I can explain..."

He halted suddenly, eyes boring holes into mine and whispered, "Watch your mouth, you filthy Mudblood. Only those I have permitted to can call me so." The way he whispered was malicious, causing my hairs to stand on edge.

Argh, this sucks!

I ended up playing his game. I obediently followed wherever he walked to, and...

"Grab my arm." He commanded stiffly, and I reluctantly obeyed.

I cast a worried look to the unconscious two, along with their mender, Mr. Phineas.

"But sir, how about them? My luggage? Our soups..."

"Your Headmaster will take care of it. Shut the hell up."

Great, thanks for increasing my anxieties, Mr. Vermin. I prepared to bid farewell to my forthcoming, expectable school days at Hogwarts.

"Grab tight."

I dug my fingers deeper into his long-sleeved suit, and seconds later, a nauseous sensation swirled in my stomach. The soup I recently swallowed threatened to spill out, while my head's feeling like it's about to be severed from its position.

Soon, when the sensation stopped, a different environment greeted me. I crouched on a dusty pavement and was about to spill my insides out when a firm grip clenches my shoulder, warningly. He yanked me back on my feet and hauled me agitatedly.

The night was replaced by the morning sun. The vast field turned into a narrow alleyway, full of dumpsters and disgusting leftovers. Graffiti littered both sides of the brick walls, makes me want to claw against it and rip those nuisances.

"Come on, you troublesome sloth." He tugged on my short-sleeved shirt, forcing me to continue walking despite my disability to.

I spat a mouthful of acidic saliva to the cracked floor. "Look, I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Please let me go." I looked at him solemnly and buried all the resentments towards him.

"Kids' best sentence." He mocked, stomping. His grip doesn't recede, it tightens. "You'll have to go through a procedure. This way."

We arrived in front of a clean telephone booth, shining brilliantly red under the light sun. There's nobody besides us anywhere. He opened the door harshly and shoved me inside, later joining me too.

"What is this? Where are we go-"

He pinched my arm, and I yelped in surprise. Good gracious!

"For the second time, shut the hell up, kid." His slender fingers deftly typed on the numbers. 6, 2, 4, 4, 2. Gotta ask someone in Hogwarts later about this odd combination.

If I still have a chance to attend it.

A woman's voice suddenly pops out of the blue, sounding like a worthless rambling to me in my sickened state. I was still feeling groggy when the booth shuddered, and descended startlingly, throwing me off-balance.

With a howling scream, I clung to Mr. Vermin's long sleeve, which he tugged repetitively to keep his own balance. The outsides turned darker and darker.

Is this some kind of underground site?

Blurb-I'm gonna puke!

A strange gurgling sound exited my mouth, and sour liquid poured out from it. The swift movement of this elevator triggers my sickness even worse.

Well, don't blame me. It's his idea to take a full-stomached me into this hellish ride.

"Ah, this nuisance!" He screamed when my ears are compatible enough to catch voices. "Tergeo!"

To my surprise, the orange liquid was suddenly wiped clean from the floor. The disgusting wetness which tainted my outfit disappeared, and so does the foul smell. But the sour taste on my tongue still remains, and I cringed in disgust.

I looked up to find the man stuffing his wand back in his coat. A gritted scowl smeared across his face.

But I shouldn't thank him for anything.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Hope you enjoy your time here." The lift jerked into a halt, knocking my head to the box's wall. Grouchy, I dragged myself on my feet and hastened to match Mr. Vermin's stern pace out of the box.

"W-Where are we..."

"Shut up, kid. You still smell like a rotten mold." He scrunched his nose in distaste, and I pursed my lips in shame. I better admire this place's exquisite details, since I'm determined to make it my last visit here.

A transparent window acted as the semicircle roof of the place. Surprisingly, instead of showing a heavy shower of sunlight, it showed a light drizzle.

Do weathers change that fast here?

Towing me by my sleeve again, Mr. Vermin stormed past the large mass of crowds, aiming for a series of elevators on the opposite side of the room.

No more elevators, please! My sickness isn't over yet!

I whimpered pathetically as the boxes came nearer in sight. "Sir, please understand my condition..."

"Shut up!" He hissed abominably, throwing a demeaning look my way.

He yanked me as the box's door opens, revealing four office-uniformed people inside. Workers of the Ministry too?

"Why so crowded, Vermin? This isn't working hour yet!" A man questioned apprehensively as the golden door shuts. Judging by his casual tone, he's known Mr. Vermin too.

I balled my fists tensely at the sudden jerk of the lift upwards. My stomach goes all queasy, threatening to pour out the remaining leftovers. I bated my breath, preventing the remnants of the soup to climb my throat.

"Who knows." He doesn't bother to cast the man a look.

"I heard a bunch of new Hogwarts students misbehaved." A shrill woman's voice chilled me to the core. She coincidentally mentioned me!

Does this mean I'm not the only oblivious one to the unwritten and unsocialized law?

"Level 7, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating..." The same woman's voice from the telephone box boomed inside, and the lift's door opened with a creak. I didn't manage to finish the sentence since they're filled with foreign terms.

Nobody either exited or entered.

"These bloody kids stole rest from us." Mr. Vermin croaked next to my ear, full of hate and dislike. "Torts for being a worker on Level 2."

It resulted in his fellow workers' chuckles. All I could do was frowning towards nobody in particular.

"I also heard that a group of extremists escaped from Azkaban. Dark wizards, they are." A deep, grouchy voice commented.

"No wonder the Atrium's a wreck."

I clammed my lips and squeezed my eyes shut. My, this is the worst experience in my lifetime after Alberic!

The lift ascended again, almost sent me tumbling backward towards the steel wall. Suddenly, I noticed a golden rope hanging from the lift's ceiling and timidly clung to it for dear sanity. I needed to tiptoe to secure myself better.

"Level 6, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control..."

A beautiful brown owl flew inside, deciding to float above the only woman's head. In its beak, a violet envelope was embedded safely. The golden gate shuts, the lift ascends higher.

Phew, thank God, the sickness recedes. It must be because I'm not as wobbly as before when I grabbed to nothing.

"Level 5, Department of International Magical Cooperation," The voice announces flatly, and the owl flew out. In exchange, a spectacled, hunch-backed man entered, placing himself near the lift's door. He didn't turn to greet his coworkers.

"Level 4, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," The man quickly stormed out, and the odd woman giggled to herself.

"Level 3, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," Mr. Vermin grouched silently, followed by the earlier querier's relaxed exit.

"Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, incorporating the Improper Use-"

"Come." Mr. Vermin coughed, and reluctantly I untangled my fingers from the firm rope, catching up behind him. The two workers also strode behind us. From the opposite side, a group of cloaked men barged into the lift, looking stern and serious.

Instead of asking, I chose to inspect the marble obsidian-colored tiles, which contrasted with the plain white walls of the corridor.

Suddenly, Mr. Vermin halted and turned left, facing a brown, sturdy door with a sign 'Improper Use of Magic Office'. Swiftly, he opened the metal-hinged door and beckoned me to enter, along with the two men.

My anxiety disorder returned the moment I enter.

Dozens of owls perched atop the opened windows, bathing under the glinting sunlight. Four desks stood rigidly in the room, two on each side. Each desk is equipped with a paper sign which has the desk owner's name on it.

I clutched my heart in shock when a paper read 'Douglas Vermin'.

The refreshing air inside the room failed to soothe my insides. In a worrisome fear, I strode across the room towards his desk, which is in the far end of the left side. The rest of the desks were already equipped with an 'offender', all around my age.

A girl with brown pigtails and a massive amount of freckles. A boy with snakelike, hateful eyes and a crude smirk. And a redheaded girl with a sweet smile.

The two men who previously entered with me immediately seated themselves on their respective chairs, in front of the two girls. A sour-faced madam was facing the boy.

"Ahem. Have a seat." A venomous, alerting voice snapped me out of my observation, and I cautiously sat on the wooden chair across Mr. Vermin, much aware of his temper.

He looked older than last night. His sleek black hair is now unruly, and his frown explains exhaustion, no longer exasperation. His gaze's unfocused, as if worried.

In his hand is a black quill with a white feather.

"Full name?" He glanced with an eye and returned to his paper, which seemed to be a form.

"Jethro Earnshaw." I gulped nervously, fidgeting with my thumbs under the table. My glasses almost slipped from my bridge uncountable times that day, thanks to my sweaty and greasy face.

"Parents?"

My heart skipped a beat, and I shuddered in fright. "H... H-Hareton Earnshaw. And Cathy Linton."

"Occupations?" His question sounded more and more like accusing, not interrogating.

"Uh... Businessman, and... A housewife?" Good gracious, I'm not supposed to ask!

"Address." He stated flatly, and I strained my right arm to receive the paper and quill when he jerked backward, along with the paper.

Wasn't he asking me to write it down?

"Address, idiot. I wasn't asking you to jot it down!" His face blossomed with fury, and he gritted his jaw closely together. "I'm insane if I ask a snotty child like you to write in that dreadful handwriting of yours, in such an important file!"

God, when'll this end? I just wanna go home. There'll be no Alberic and Mr. Vermin back in Wuthering Heights, only a horde of friendly cattle.

"W-Wuthering Heights," I mumbled unclearly, wiping a persistent tear off my lenses. "I... I-It's in Top Withens, 5 kilometers in the southwest of Haworth."

He paused and pinched the spot between his eyes, seeming to understand none of my explanations. Supporting his elbow on the table, his dominant hand started to jot it down, anyway, despite his disbelief in my ability to answer it.

"Are your parents Muggles?" I disliked his tone so much, which contains lots of resentment and arrogance. I growled inwardly and slumped back to the chair, biting my dried lips to bottle up my unstable emotions.

"They're not wizards." Was my reply, instead of agreeing to use that term. Muggle. What kind of stereotypical man would create such a discriminating term?

Apparently, wizards aren't more perfect than most normal people.

The papers collided with each other as Mr. Vermin scrambled his desk, looking for a certain item. Later, he revealed a porcelain white paper and smoothed it in front of me. In neat italic font is the title.

'Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery Draft'.

"Now tell me why you violated this law." He demanded in a calculative, cold voice, and rested his chin upon his curling knuckles.

I avoided eye contact, choosing to stare at my long, pointy nails. "It was an accident. Alberic... I mean, the boy I attacked, had teased and bullied me all day long. I'm usually a patient person when it comes to-"

"I'm not asking about yourself." I halted midway, gawking in disbelief. "Describe the details of your actions, not your habits. Believe in my lack of interest." He drawled, which provoked me to punch his long nose.

Huffing silently, I started over. "He shoved me harshly, humiliating me for the thousandth time. The first thing flashed to my instincts was retaliating with my wand."

"Why?"

"Because..." I murmured lowly, fearing to meet his piercing stare. "I've been bullied for everything. For my knowledge, the absurd things I can do... I don't want to get bullied in my next school too."

"Which is why you memorized those jinxes?" He scribbled on his parchment, and my heart stopped pumping in terror.

Could he be writing a letter which suggests Mr. Phineas-I mean, the Headmaster, to expel me?

"Don't expel me please, sir!" I breathlessly exclaimed, almost splattering a bottle of ink with my darting palm. "Please don't tell the Headmaster to expel me! I swear I won't fight against Alberic again, and behave well!" I begged, ignore his shouts.

I'm no longer in control of myself. My whole body trembled and tears streamed down my sweaty cheeks, unable to think of anything.

"Vermin, are you done? All three of us have done our cases." A familiar man's voice approached, followed by a series of firm footsteps on the paneled floor. "We'll soon Apparate them through the fireplaces. I'll go with them to The Black Lake if any of the fugitive intercepts."

"Argh, just a sec." Mr. Vermin exclaimed in fury, and hastily I wiped the tears from my eyes. "This snotty sloth requires tons of patience!"

He hurried to write down as his face contorted in anger. His quill flicked from a side to another in a fluid motion, unable to keep track of.

"May I won't see you anytime soon." He nodded curtly, throwing a shabby old envelope which I caught awkwardly.

This is it?

"Am I expelled?" An exasperated shake of his head. "Am I punished?" He grunted lowly, glaring at the desk.

Solely a warning letter and no punishments?

"Thank you, sir." I stammered, suddenly tongue-tied.

"You didn't do it purposely. You were in an emotional state, and you prove it. Wizards tolerate it."

Ah, thank God! Justice for the bullied, at last!

A throat-clearing sound startled me from my gleeful muse.

Hastily, I stood from the chair and tailed behind the three other students.

When I forced one last glimpse of the aggravating yet forgiving man, he's already nowhere in sight.

*****

"So, where d' you guys wanna be sorted into?" Carmel glanced to her back-to us three who are still panting to ascend the next stairs.

"Anywhere but Slytherin." Key blew her sticky brown bangs from her forehead and resumed her pace.

"You're too s... Racist, Key." An annoyed frown shaped Felix's lips, making his face twice as displeasing. "I'm confident I'm a Slytherin. While Carmel's a Gryffindor."

"No, I'll be in Hufflepuff!" Carmel scowled at a sneering Felix, eyes glinting dangerously. Her face was red of both exhaustion and emotion.

As their debate continues, I focused on my sloppy steps. We've arrived late from the ministry, and The Sorting Ceremony has started, according to the caretaker.

A voice booms in the distance, followed by erupting clamorous cheers. I hastened my pace, now matching Carmel's.

A chuckle came from my back. "What's the rush for? You're surely a Ravenclaw. Relax!"

No, Felix, how can I relax when the entire school's about to witness my disheveled face? How can I calm down when a hat's going to decide my future?

"Promise me guys, we'll make history." Carmel giggled as her steps slowed down, waiting for the other two. "After The Sorting, we'll still be together. Hopefully, we're the only friendship group which consists of four different houses, like the founders themselves!"

"You're too sentimental, Carmel." I cringed when Felix landed his fist on Carmel's red curls, and he received a direct palm on his forehead as a reply.

"Alberic Grunnion." A stern voice rang just when the four of us entered The Great Hall, earning curious stares from every direction. Another student, taller than each of us, ushered us inside.

My limbs tensed, uncaring whether anyone's moving me somewhere.

There he is, looking as mischievous as usual. He survived the jinx with barely a trace! How odd, was it magic too?

I shivered when he sent a nasty smirk my way.

"Ravenclaw!" The mouthed hat exclaims, and a lot of blue-shawled crowd accepted him with a handshake as he soared to their table.

Alberic's a Ravenclaw! No, this is a too realistic nightmare! I can't stand it!

Wait, am I joining the line already? There are only three more students before me!

I was too panicked and anxious to even glance at anywhere else. My eyes are glued to a certain direction. The little brown stool and the big, terrifying brown hat.

I nearly shrieked when I notice the one wearing it now. Carmel!

"Gryffindor!"

I watched silently as her eager expression turned into a hidden pout, and calmly she strode to her housemates, smiling politely.

Now, is it Felix?

I seemed to be more nervous than he is...

"Hufflepuff!"

He exploded in an indescribable laughter as he hopped down the aisle, greeting his new housemates.

"Key Sanaroia." She ascended the aisle, looking as emotionless as before. It didn't take long for the hat to announce, "Slytherin!"

An unseen force clenched my lungs when the last name was mentioned. Tipsily, I skittered to the stool, shrinking as the heavy hat rested on my head.

I closed my eyes in distress and clasped my palms tightly on my sides. Shivering greatly, I bit my lip as its whisper reached my ear, "Should I place you in Ravenclaw or Slytherin? You have a big potential in both."

Huh? Ravenclaw and Slytherin?

Key and Felix's conversation replayed flashily in my head. "Anywhere but Slytherin."

"Ah, you don't want to be a Ravenclaw because your nemesis is there. Not Slytherin either? Did your friend contaminate your thoughts?"

My entire body trembled greatly in fear, my teeth chattered while replying, "No."

"Argh, fine, I'll decide." Its voice raised an amplitude higher. "Slytherin!"

Cheers erupted from the second table from the right, and shakily I stood from the stool. Oxygen was never this much-needed. Still too perplexed to respond the greetings and cheers, I staggered to an empty spot next to Key.

"Anywhere but Slytherin." A bead of tear dropped on her quivering lips' corner. I followed the direction of her fearful gaze, which landed on the staff's High Table.

A stabbing stare from the Headmaster.

"He hates students, especially Slytherin Mudbloods like us. Racist ministry staffs accused my relatives to be dark wizards because they're Slytherin Mudbloods. Today, they escaped."

Uh-oh. I've got a bad feeling that another trip to the ministry will soon occur, and this'll be a challenging first year.