I do not own Harry Potter and related characters.
There will be OOCness and OCs you have been warned.
"In addition to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Hogwarts will be housing a magical family. Setimika Dream Stalker," a tall Native American man steps out of the shadows of the Great Hall, "Syeira Burtenshaw," a woman of average height appears out of one of the Hall's many torches, "and their daughter Meoquanee-Tasarla Burtenshaw."
A girl of fifteen with dark skin makes her way soundlessly toward the Wizard that called her name. Whispers and auras swirl around her; she brushes them aside without care. A distinct aura catches her eye and the girl stops, turning to look at the Wizard it belongs to. Bottle green meets jade as Meoquanee spots the boy that holds the aura and she pauses. She can feel her father's steady gaze and mother's curiosity upon her as the Roma-Indian girl studies the boy.
His natural aura is a bright lightning green, but something dark and unnatural swirls within it. The main focus point of the darkness emanates from the lightning scar on his forehead, pulsing with its own life. Eyes narrowing, Meoquanee strikes at it with her own aura. The corupţie (taint) howls and curls within itself, withdrawing from the boy's aura. The boy himself cringes and grasps at the scar in a sign of pain. His eyes now water as he meets her gaze with suspicion.
Meoquanee dismisses him from her mind, deciding that will be too much effort to speak to the boy about his corupţie right now. More mutterings and whispers rise around her now, speaking of a 'Dark Lord' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Her father raises a dark eyebrow in question, but does not push when she shrugs. Even the teachers now look at her warily, with the exception of Filius Flitwick—an old friend of her mother's—and Severus Snape—her father's friend. Severus merely quirks an eyebrow in question and Filius grins knowingly. When the entire family is standing before Dumbledore, facing the multitude of students, the Headmaster makes a final announcement.
"Setimika Dream Stalker is going to be teaching a class about Curses as well as Occlumency and Legilimency. He will be hosted by Slytherin." Excited murmurs emerge from the able of silver and green. "His lovely wife Syeira will be teaching a class about Foreign Magic and helping our Groundskeeper with Care of Magical Creatures. She will be housed by Ravenclaw." Dumbledore continues with a smile and twinkle in his eye that makes Meoquanee uneasy. She projects the feeling to her parents who give whispers of acknowledgement. The old Wizard places both hands on Meoquanee's shoulders—feelings of regret, self-assured, risk everything for the 'Greater Good'—and finishes with, "Their daughter is going to join as a classmate to all of you, so let's get her sorted."
Sitting on the stool, the Roma-Native American holds herself stiffly as a weather-beaten, powerful Artifact is placed upon her head. "Well, well. What is it we have here? A Shaman and Mystic, you are powerful indeed child. Neither Hufflepuff nor Gryffindor would suit you in the slightest. Now, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. To be honest, my dear Shaman neither fits you well enough for me to have a solid decision. I'm afraid you must make the choice."
Choose between snakes and ravens? How amusing, all things considered. But… Meoquanee's emerald gaze travels to the boy with the tainted aura. Which has more interaction with that boy? The one with the corupţie.
"Oh, you speak of the Potter boy. He is in Gryffindor, so the House to have the most contact would be Slytherin. Are you sure that is the one you want? You can't change your mind later."
That one. He is…interesting. As a șaman (shaman) it is my duty to help. Also if Mother finds out she will hound me to help him.
"Oh, I see. Trying to avoid difficulties. How very…Slytherin of you. Very well, you shall be SLYTHERIN!"
Cheers come from the table of silver and emerald, clearly smug that they have gained the new student as well as a teacher. As Meoquanee's father takes the hat and helps her off the stool the girl looks to her mother. Syeira give a secretive smile, winking at her daughter—reassuring, proud, happy—before allowing Flitwick to escort her to the table of teachers.
You are all right? It took much time for the item to make a decision. Setimika's voice in his daughter's mind allows her to breathe easily—protective, loving, strong—as he walks her to the table of snakes.
Yes. It wished to speak with me. Apparently I am not suited for any house so I had to choose. Meoquanee sits in between a pale blonde—smug, noble, decisive—and a male teen whose skin is nearly matching hers—playful, sly, proud—accepting the hands held out to help her onto the bench. She smoothes the out the wrinkles in her skirt, where there had been black is now the green of the Slytherin uniforms but the white remains.
"Hello, Draco Lucius Malfoy," white-blond, almost silvery hair rests over a pointed, fine boned face that is clearly of nobility, "at your service. My best friend Blaise Zabini sits on your right."
Meoquanee finds her hand taken by the dark skinned teen. High cheekbones and long, slanting dark eyes, mouth pulled into a charming smile. He kisses the back of her tanned hand. "Charmed to meet you, my lady."
She raises an eyebrow at the boy—though that could change—an amused smile ghosting her lips. "Meoquanee-Tasarla Veshni Jukkel Burtenshaw. I am pleased to make your acquaintances." The Roma tugs her hand gently away from the darker boy and turns to study to food. She doesn't recognize many things on the table and turns to the pale teen. "Draco, I have not eaten many of these foods before, would you suggest something?"
Storm grey eyes meet hers and full lips curl into a smile—pleased to have her rely on him, even for something so small. "Of course. Is there anything you are allergic to, or simply don't enjoy?"
"No. We do not waste, so I have no preferences. Though I am rather fond of Japanese food and puddings." She has not spoken so much for quite sometime, her voice is husky and soft from the disuse.
Draco inclines his head and points out several dishes, the ones that are not so extravagant with spices. Thoughtful of him, considering that he doesn't know what types of food she normally eats. Blaise also directs her attention to several different puddings, jade shines in delight at the sight. She places a small serving of the things Draco has suggested on one plate, then several bowls for the different puddings. She carries a light conversation with the two Slytherins when they are rudely interrupted by a hard feminine face and voice.
"Well, clearly Mother was right when she said the Gypsies are uncultured heathens. She can't even recognize the most basic of foods. Must not steal the right food then, filthy Gyppie thief that she is."
"Pansy!" The storm clouds harden to granite. "That is incredibly rude! What the hell makes you think you can say that?"
"It rather makes you look like the 'heathen'. Such degrading terms to speak to such a powerful Mystic." Near-black eyes carry a harsh light.
Meoquanee says nothing, dabbing at her mouth with a cloth napkin before setting it down on the table. Silently she stands, moving away from the table, and walks around the long table. The Great Hall has fallen silent, watching her every movement. The Native American comes to stand off to the side of 'Pansy', appearing completely calm. She raises a delicate hand, pointing to Pansy. "Ridicǎ-te." (Stand up)
"What are you—EEEEEEK!" The pug-nosed girl shrieks as she is forcibly yanked from her seat and forced to face the new transfer student. "LET ME GO! LET GO OF ME YOU FILTHY GYPPIE—!"
Meoquanee has no change in demeanor as the girl shrieks like a caught chicken. The Roma-Indian does not tolerate racial slurs against her blood, call her anything else but something like that will not go without consequence. "Nepoliticos fatǎ." (Rude girl)
"PUT MISS PARKINSON DOWN, MISS BURTENSHAW!" An older Witch is striding toward Meoquanee's back, magic crackling around her. "THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR WILL NOT BE TOLERATED—!"
Meoquanee sees that the pale and dark teens from earlier have come to stand behind her, blocking the teacher from having a clear shot at the Roma's back. Her father and uncle are striding down toward her as well; Meoquanee's mother bares her teeth at the squealing pig—irritation, pride, permission to continue—but remains seated at the head table.
"Minerva, if you continue to yell at my student you will get nowhere." Silky, slippery, Severus cuts off his colleague. "Burtenshaw, let Miss Parkinson go. We will go deaf otherwise from her shrieking."
Meoquanee complies, not before she speaks a Curse. "Cu adevărat esti un porc murdar, guițat. Deveniți astfel atunci când se comportă ca atare." (Truly you are a filthy, squealing pig. Become as such when you behave as such.) She drops the girl, turning to face the three adults. The woman has black-grey streaked hair pulled into a painful bun. Stern, wrinkled face with beady brown behind square glasses—amused, outraged, for the 'Greater Good'—glowers at Meoquanee.
The woman opens her mouth to speak—scold, punish, deduct points?—but is distracted by the sound of a pig. Everyone—Draco, Blaise, Father, Uncle, herself—moves to look at the decent sized pig sitting on the floor wearing the Slytherin uniform. Draco's mouth twitches in refraining from smiling while Blaise openly snickers. Laughter pours out from the students—hysterical, she deserves it, that is brilliant—and some teachers. The older Witch is gaping at the sight; Severus keeps his stern look but obsidian glitters with amusement; Setimika allows a flicker of laughter over his face before becoming stoic once more.
"Draco, Blaise, would either of you mind showing me to the dormitory? I feel rather tired from today's traveling." Meoquanee covers her mouth in a yawn.
"Of course." The pale young noble extends and arm, taking it—accomplishment, curiosity, amusement—she allows him to lead her out of the Great Hall. Blaise walks beside her—glee, acceptance, appreciation—forming a solid wall between her and potential spells. Both ignore the teacher that calls out after them, the trio leaving the Hall without hesitation.