A bunch of arrogant fools
Satoru
Gojo has been living in the same room; and sleeping in the same bed, for a week now. And he still confused when waking up in he morning.
The beds were way to soft (why are they four poster beds? It's a school! Not a palace!) and also it sounds different here, back in Tokyo your alarm clock were the crickets chirping at dawn, here all he hears is the gentle snore of his roommates and the eerie sounds of the lake, which is right outside the window!!!Literally! There was only a window separating them from certain death!!
It was not all bad though, Gojo learnt his English primarily from American TV shows, he was basically as high as Suguru understanding-wise. It was all fun and games until some rich blond prick decided to say something (which Satoru guessed was meant to be offensive, a shame he couldn't understand it. The posh accent got in the way) But upon releasing that Suguru and Satoru could not comprehend said posh accent, laughed his head off and mocked them, so Satoru, the utter genius, master of the universe and the strongest; stuck his tongue out in a most orderly manner and dragged Suguru off before Blondie could express his disgust.
Also the sweets collection was acceptable.
Geto on the other hand obviously hated everything about the UK. He was always complaining, he had a permanent frown on his face and had been told off by multiple teachers for 'disrupting class' which was basically a fancy way of saying that you've been gossiping about people way to loudly, even if they didn't understand a word they were saying. And Suguru's lack of English complicated about every other matter.
Shoko seemed to be fitting right in, the members in Gojo's and Geto's house were all self-righteous twats, but Shoko seemed to get along well with hers, and was always surrounded by people whenever Satoru saw her (she was probably just dealing illegal substances with them (that was Gojo's theory at least, Geto was saying that Shoko had created some sort of secret nightclub.))
One of the worst things about this strange cult school, was that they weren't meant to tell anybody about the fact that there sorcerers not wizards, apparently Dumbledore doesn't want the word to come out that another form of magic that doesn't use baguettes that shoot fireworks exist ('wands' posh boy had said). The bloody wands. To remain undercover, they were forced to carry the magic sticks EVERYWHERE with them. And Gojo has never been more annoyed, he had already caught a bunch of hypocrite weirdos looking at him strangely for holding the wand the wrong way round.
And worse was that for whatever reason whenever he attempted to cast a spell it exploded! No joke. A literal explosion came from one side of the wand. Gojo simply answered the questions with 'technical difficulties'. Technical difficulties! That had gotten even more stares. What else was he meant to say! He was meant to have lived in this odd universe his entire life yet he knew absolutely nothing about it! It was impossible not to be suspicious, especially as the old man gave them bloody guides to help them.
The guides were probably the worst of it, there were four of them: a curly haired girl with a name that was to long for Gojo to remember, a red haired dick who had a name to short for Gojo to remember, the messy haired boy with glasses and a scar that gave off odd cursed energy and was apparently some sort of celebrity and the blond haired fool with the cursed energy arm from before. Only the blondie was in Satoru and Suguru's house, the others were in the red house. There were way to many names to remember and Satoru would be damned if he had to remember them all. Goddammit! He could hardly remember his own name half the time!
The four stranger-guides seemed to get along horribly, Satoru was now getting used to the accents and could just about understand what was being said when they weren't talking at 100 miles per-hour, so most the time he and Suguru got Shoko to translate everything.
Draco
Draco was not having fun. In fact the past week sucked (please excuse his mudblood language. but that's how bad it was.) . When he was not suffering through lessons his free time was spent escorting the three transfers (who were some of the most peculiar people Draco had ever met) with the golden trio, so in reality his week did not suck, but was absolute hell.
He had hoped to at least make some progress with the broken vanishing cabinet, but every God was not on his side, and instead of trying not to die he was spending his last months on earth being a babysitter with idiots for colleges.
He wanted to go home.
But that was a death wish.
His day consisted of observing and being observed, it was awfully tiring. His relationship with the Griffindors was not improving, in fact nothing was improving everything was going wrong! He had already caught the white haired and sunglasses transfer staring at his arm multiple times a day, as if he could see the thing lurking beneath the surface, which made Draco even more uncomfortable, and every time he caught Gojo looking he tugged at his sleeve, and that made everyone else look. He swears that the golden trio is staring at him more suspiciously then usual. He had heard that the previous year Potter had some sort of connection with the Dark Lord, so could it be possible that he saw Draco at some point?? Could he know?
No. That's not possible. If Potter knew Draco would be dead, or at least rotting in Askaban with his father.
Draco immediately banished that thought from his mind. The more guilty he felt the more suspicious he would seem, The more emotions he felt the more un-Draco like he would be, and that was just setting himself up for disaster; not just death.
He headed down for breakfast.