Hermione didn't know what Mudblood meant; the term had never once made an appearance on any of the pages out of the countless books she had mentally consumed. Though, given the vehement tone in Malfoy's voice, she assumed its definition was quite unpleasant. "I beg your pardon?" she demanded.

Goyle and Crabbe were flanked at their leader's sides―the flirtatious look in Goyle's eyes had dissolved―and pointedly glowering at Hermione.

"Both of your parents are Muggles, aren't they?" he maliciously interrogated. The repulsed emphasis he had put on "Muggles" couldn't have been anymore indicating of his prejudiced dogma.

"That's right," Hermione boldly responded, "I'm a Muggle-born."

Malfoy combusted. "A MUDBLOOD! WE HAVE A MUDBLOOD IN SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione saw that other Slytherins were casting vicious glares behind Malfoy and his minions. The Purebloods glowered in their direction with disgust; many shook their heads in acknowledgement of an utter disgrace. Hermione instantly knew that this House would chew her up and spit her out―the walking stain of dirt disrupting their fraternity's harmony with her presence. This was an unpleasant memory she had a feeling she would vividly recount well into her adult years―given that she lived that long. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back the tremors of fear rumbling within her. Her calmness was crumbling…

"Has not being washed too often driven that tattered, ugly, old hat senile? How could it sort a Mudblood here? Salazar Slytherin must be rolling in his gra―!" The tip of a wand jabbing into the back of his neck ended the boy's irate rant.

"That will be enough, Malfoy." The raven-haired male prefect who had guided the first years to the common room was glaring holes through the platinum rear of Malfoy's head. Crabbe and Goyle, aware of the lesser authority that came with a prefect's position, withdrew quietly to merge into the audience.

"I think Professor Dumbledore would be interested to know of this situation." He nodded to Hermione. "Granger―come."

She timorously followed without question as the prefect seized Malfoy's arm in his constricting grip and yanked him towards the common room's entrance. She observed that several Slytherins were still glaring at her, but the majority―older students and a good amount of the first years―had shifted their glowers to Malfoy as he was dragged from the room, assaulting the prefect with vicious expletives. It became clear to Hermione that those Slytherins were disgusted by Malfoy's words and response to her blood status―they'd all been glaring at him. The scoffs and curling lips of the more decent demographic of the House reduced the evil-eyed supremacists to black specks, in comparison.

Before the entrance closed, Hermione heard a female Slytherin whisper, "Poor girl."

Malfoy, Hermione, and the prefect stood before Professor Dumbledore's desk in his office. "What exactly happened between Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy, Ian?" he patiently asked.

"Malfoy was calling Granger a Mudblood," the prefect (Ian) answered. "Made a huge scene about it in the common room, he did."

Behind his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore's blue irises impaled Malfoy, ran through him like two swords crafted dangerously out of ice. Hermione silently gulped at the chilling change in Dumbledore's gentle disposition. A bead of sweat trailed down Malfoy's temple, his blood becoming frigid. Ian sneered wickedly at the delicious dismay clear-cut in Malfoy's expression.

"Is that true, Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore icily questioned.

"I-I…w-well I…I just―"

Dumbledore looked to Hermione. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes, P-Professor," she sputtered, "he did."

"One month's detention, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said instantly.

Malfoy's jaw dropped. "A whole month?! But it's my first offense!"

Dumbledore stood. "One that's penalty can very easily be expanded to two months, might I add."

"But, Professor―!"

"Please escort Mister Malfoy back to the common room, Ian," Dumbledore instructed, graciously tuning out Malfoy's whining. "I wish to speak with Miss Granger privately, please."

After Ian hauled Malfoy from his office, Professor Dumbledore's eyes melted from their ice-cold state back to the warm puddles of benevolence they were initially. "My veracious apologies, my dear," he ruefully spoke. "I'd imagine this wouldn't be the ideal first day one would expect. We do not tolerate the discrimination of bloodlines, therefore I would ask of you to bring it to the attention of a prefect or staff member should something like this occur again."

Hermione nodded. "Professor…what exactly does Mudblood mean? Can you tell me? I could tell it was really rude, of course…"

Hesitation flickered in Dumbledore's eyes, but he ultimately answered to her request. "Mudblood…is an extremely derogatory slur that regards the blood of a witch or wizard born to Muggle parents as unclean―dirty blood, in summary."

She folded her arms. "I see…"

"Don't think much on it, dear. Mister Malfoy comes from a pure-blooded family that has endorsed supremacist convictions for generations. You would not be the first to be antagonized by a member of their branch."

"Blood-supremacy I was aware of before I arrived at Hogwarts," she morosely discerned, "but it perplexes me that I was placed in Slytherin. I don't particularly abhor the House, despite its reputation. But its founder was steadfastly against Muggle-borns being permitted tutelage here in Hogwarts. So how could I possibly belong in his House?"

Dumbledore gently patted her shoulder. "Miss Granger, Salazar Slytherin may have preferred to teach Purebloods, but, should any student hold the potential for his House, they will be sorted there, regardless of their blood status. What's more, your House does not define you; belonging to Slytherin isn't a betrayal to your heritage. One of Slytherin's earliest and greatest members helped to pave the way for Muggle-born rights, you know!"

"Yes," she acknowledged. "Merlin."

Dumbledore nodded. "As for Slytherin's reputation…every House has its shadows, and foulness is not exclusive to but one. So do not let Mister Malfoy's stance cloud your judgement on Slytherin as a whole."

"I'm obviously in no position to do such," she dispiritedly conceded. "After all, I am a Slytherin…"