I am Seth – Part One

The Racism

The room has three rows of desks, which was filled with twenty eight students. Ten in the back row, ten in the middle row and only eight in the front row. It would look like the class is in a seating plan, in which two students were away, or even that one boy was in trouble and had to sit alone, but it was not. Seth sat, two desks separating him from next student, who was unwillingly sitting there. That's the punishment for being late… sitting next to Seth. This was not because he was ugly and smelled or that he was a bully… it was the fact of his blood. Seth, in the eyes of the students, was a half wizard, a half muggle. They thought he was only half their standard.

The school that Seth attended was full of pure blooded wizards. Seth was here on a scholarship. It was for the senior years, fifth, sixth and seventh years. Drashkov institute in the Art of Magic offered one out every year, and Seth won it, last year, when he was attending a small, public school in Isle of Skye, with only 40 students. It was here he was coached by an old wizard, an exceptionally old wizard, named Nicholas Flamel. He had noticed Seth's talents with magic, and the amount of power he had in him. Professor Flamel got him the scholarship papers, and recommended him to the school. So this is Seth is, the 16 year old boy with light brown, curly hair. His eyes were brown, and he was average height. He looked ordinary, if not a bit on the good looking side.

The room he was in right now was his History of Magic class, and they were looking at the Halloween celebrations in the early 1100. It was an interesting topic, though the way they were taught was not. Seth was trying to concentrate, he needed high marks to get into the training course he wanted after he graduated school, but it was hard. The teacher spoke in a monotonous voice, almost hard to understand. Finally the bell went, signalling the end of class.

It was a relief to leave the room, though it was nerve racking walking to the dining room, where everyone ate lunch. There were not many professors or adults in the halls, and many times Seth was tripped, his bag flying, or wet, water getting into his books and ruining his notes. It was times here were many tricks were played on him, causing everyone to laugh at him when he reached the dining room, or next class. Today was one of those days when a practical joker tried one of his many jokes. Because Seth was subject to many curses or hexes, he had read up on counter-curses so he could un-do the damage done to him by his fellow pupils. When Seth reached the hall and sat down, he got many curious and disgusted looks. Sighing, Seth picked up his silver goblet, looking at his reflection. It looked alright to him, a bit stretched, but that was because the goblet was circular. Wondering what was wrong with him this time; he shook his head, and turned back to his meal.

"Students, if I can have you attention, please!" Professor Wentworth stood, banging his goblet on the bench at the front of the room. The chatter and noise died down, all heads turned to their Head Master. "I would like to introduce to you, Mitchell Dragon, the seeker for the Russian Quidditch team. I am sure you all know about him? Yes, of course you do! Anyways. He would like to address you all!"

"Mitchell Dragon? Did he say Mitchell Dragon?"

"The Dragon, the real Dragon?!"

"Oh, my, God… I think I am going to faint!" Mutterings and excited talk rose from the tables, as a young man, about the age of 25, stood up.

"He's even better than in the photos!" One girl to the left of Seth said, fanning her face. Seth was also excited, as his idol was Mitchell, who was known as the Dragon. Even though Seth wasn't that good at Quidditch, he loved to watch the games, and the Dragon was his favourite player.

"Boy's and girls! I have an announcement to make! We are looking for two lucky people to come with me, to meet the Russian Ravens, and stay with them for a week! If you are chosen you will train, eat and… what is that smell?" During his speech, people had started to sniff and whisper to each other. One by one, everyone eyes had turned to him.

"Seth shit his pants!" yelled a voice, from the other side of the hall. The laugher was loud, as everyone pointed and laughed, even the Dragon was laughing. Seth felt his face redden. So that's why he got some queer looks at the start. He still couldn't smell it, though he supposed that was part of the spell. Seth fled the hall, running down the corridor, all the way to his room. He was glad, not for the first time that they each had their own rooms. When he got there, he locked the door, and sat heavily on his bed, leaning back until he was lying down, starring at the ceiling. He wasn't crying, nothing that they did could make him cry, but he was embarrassed beyond belief, ashamed that the only time he would met the Dragon, was the time when he had "shit his pants" as people thought he had.

Seth knew that he could handle the embarrassment given to him by the others, god, he had lasted nearly two years of being an outcast, but the thought of what the Dragon thought… it made him angry. Why should he be ashamed? He did nothing wrong… it wasn't his fault! It was the others! Why should he just lay down to what ever they do to him? Seth made up his mind to try out for the Russian Quidditch Competition. Even though he didn't know when or where it was, and it was no use asking someone, because they would just laugh and give him the wrong time, it should be on a poster on ONE of the notice boards. People miss lunch all the time, so there was bound to be stuff written about it somewhere. Now all Seth had to do was to find a poster!

When Seth left his room, he went searching down the halls, stopping at all the notice boards. As he had expected, the first board he came upon was covered in a bright yellow and green poster, with the Dragon flying around it, catching a snitch. Here was the information Seth was looking for. "Hmm. Tomorrow, ten o'clock, on the Quidditch field… classes cancelled… I guess the whole school will be there watching those who are game enough to try out… wonder who will."

"Hey look. Maybe Smelly Seth want's to compete in the Quidditch competition!" A sneering voice from behind him came. There was laughter, idiotic laughing. Seth rolled his eyes. Smelly Seth? Now THAT was original. Seth just walked away, laughing to himself. Seth had no time for Yoland and his cronies. Yoland was in charge of this group, made up of about six of the guys, who called themselves the Purities. They strived to make the world "PURE" of the mudbloods and so. That's what they thought anyways. They were poor imitations of Grindelwald, and thought that they would be on the Lords good side, when he supposedly came. Their parents followed Grindelwald, perhaps they were even in his cult, and many people were supporting his movements. Many people were against him as well. He was the one who started the word "Mudblood".

Well, it was already known, but not used as an insult. Grindelwald was the person in charge of the killings of innocent people. Seth didn't really care about Grindelwald; Seth had not had any loss of someone close to him. It did not bother him that people were dying, and the outside world was in turmoil. All that Seth was worried about was surviving until graduation. As Seth walked away, he pictured himself flying tomorrow, laughing at Yoland, and wining. Seth knew the chances of him wining were slim, Seth was not exceptionally good at flying, but he still wanted to get out there, and have a go.

..........

The next day dawned nice and bright. Once Seth had gotten dressed, he pulled out his wand, and performed the strongest hex reflection spell he knew. Knowing that he would be a prime target for people on the Quidditch pitch, Seth knew that it was necessary to take these precautions. When Seth reached the entry to the dinning room, he faltered, looking at the Dragon. He was sitting on one of the long benches, surrounded by girls who were giggling and waving bits of paper in the air, begging for an auto-graph. Seth squared his shoulders, and marched into the dining room, ignoring the few comments and laughs in his direction. When he got to his normal seat, he sat down, and started to eat, waiting for the announcement of the start of the Competition. He did not have to wait long. "Ladies and gentlemen! Let us all congregate at the Quidditch field!" The Dragon's words were replied with cheers.

"Oh, Lorinna! Do you think we might see him fly?"

"I better go get my broom then."

"Save me a seat, Butler!" Seth caught bits and pieces of conversation as he returned to his room, to fetch his broom. He picked it up, and was about to leave when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Seth sighed. The broom in his hands was an old one, likely to pass out in mid-air. The robes he was wearing were old and ratty, too short, and showing his ankles, and his face was pale, brown hair un-brushed. Seth looked like a lost, little boy. Did he really want to go through with this? Was it really worth it? Seth knew that there would be trouble if he went down to fly; he knew that there would be some smart ass who would make Seth regret the idea of going down. So Seth sat on his bench, and started to write in his Diary.

……………………………………..

"I let them get to me again. I promised to never let them get to me, and they do. I know I should never

have thought of going down, but I did, and I had some dream, some idea, that if I did alright, I might just, might

just be accepted! What a fool. What a fool I am!" - From the diary of Seth

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