Disclaimer – I wish I was JKR but I'm not. Just playing in her sandbox.
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Chapter 1 – St. Polycarp's
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Sebastian sprinted around the corner, robes streaming out behind him, just in time to see the rest of his group vanish into thin air. He lunged desperately at the statue where they had been, but to no avail. The portkey had left.
He turned and trudged disconsolately back up the hill towards his house. There was nothing else for it. He would just have to floo to school. Again. If it wasn't for the dratted clock on the Headmistresses wall he would have skived. Unfortunately if your hand didn't point to a good reason to be absent, like death or absence of limbs, the repercussions were far worse than just a chewing out and detention. At least his mother had already left for the day, so he wouldn't have to sneak into the house.
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As he sat through yet another History of Magic class, Sebastian mentally reviewed everyone who should be cursed for him being here. He should be at Hogwarts, he was a Pureblood of the higher echelons of society but here he was, stuck in St Polycarp's School of Wizardry. If he'd been at Hogwarts he wouldn't have to take a portkey to school every day so he wouldn't have a Saturday morning detention to look forward to for being three seconds late. Oh, and he wouldn't have to live with his alcoholic excuse of a mother.
The first curse should really go to his mother. She was the one who forgot to put his name down at birth for Hogwarts. It was her responsibility after all, as his father was stuck in Azkaban for merely following the true leader of the wizarding world.
The second curse had to go to Dumbledore, meddling old mudblood-loving fool that he was. It was his interfering that led to MuSES, the Muggleborn Scholars Enrolment System. Why should mudbloods get first choice of the places at Hogwarts, just because they didn't know about the wizarding world. He'd like to see any of them come to St. Polys, they wouldn't last a day! From what he'd heard, some of the Hogwarts houses were nearly half mudblood nowadays. Not Slytherin of course.
The third curse …. He flinched as an elbow landed in his ribs. He turned and glared at Aloysius Urquhart sitting next to him, then rapidly schooled his face to a bland expression as Professor Herdman's gaze swept the class. He glanced down at his page to check that his Quick Quotes Quill had taken notes for him as he seized the quill and pretended that he had in fact been paying attention.
".. and so in conclusion I would like you all to write 3 feet on why muggles were excluded from Wizarding society in 1215 and how that impacted on the development of house-elves, due in next Wednesday. Please remember that any use of the word mudblood will lose you marks – again. Class dismissed."
The class stretched and yawned as they rose to head to lunch. Sebastian decided that his third curse should go to Professor Herdman. Although he hadn't had anything to do with Sebastian ending up at St Polys, surely there couldn't be a more boring teacher on the face of the planet. Hogwarts had a GHOST teaching them, that was bound to be more interesting!
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Sebastian trudged back up the hill towards his house, his bag slung over his shoulder and his hands deep inside the pockets of his robe, fingering his wand. Some day he'd be able to get his own back at the society that had robbed him. He was sick and tired of his cousins sneering at him every time there was a family gathering. Montague especially, cocky Quidditch Captain, although he hadn't been quite as cocky at the family gathering over Easter. Maybe that would be worth further investigation.
At least he only had 7 weeks of school left until he would be released for the summer and this year he didn't have OWLs or NEWTs, being a 6th year. He had hoped that he would be able to transfer to Hogwarts after his OWLs but unfortunately even Crabbe and Goyle had managed to scrape a pass, albeit in a single subject each, so there were no spaces in the 6th year. Hopefully if Professor Umbridge was still there the next year, she would have managed to chase off some of the mudbloods and he would at least get one year at the school that was his birthright.
He finally reached the top of the hill, standing in the doorway of the simple house he and his mother lived in. He only had vague memories of the manor house they had lived in before his father had died, a victim of the wonderful care and attention lavished on the prisoners of Azkaban. The house and vaults were held in trust by his uncle until he could assume the mantle of Head of the Family on his seventeenth birthday, mostly to stop his mother from drinking them away. He felt a tingle pass through him as the wards recognised him as family and stepped into the hallway, dumping his bag on the floor. He turned to the living room as he saw a shadow moving out of the corner of his eye.
"Hello nephew", said an oily voice.