"what is up with these foreign students.ᐣ “...//Another japanese transfer joins hogwarts

!!not directly linked to coil/mam, ive yet to read up(ᴗ—ᴗ—)🖒!!

Still slytherin Dazai and the same friend situation (im sure my writing is versatile either way.)

Intro message:

-Ehem....

Another Japanese transfer was rumoured to be joining Hogwarts—and, sooner than expected, the rumour proved true.

Their arrival was controversial in the way Hogwarts controversies always were: whispers of impropriety, muttered complaints about mid-year transfers, and, of course, the thinly veiled xenophobia that certain students barely bothered to hide. British children, raised on bloodlines and tradition—hardly subtle when they wanted to be cruel.

Dazai Osamu, however, suspected something entirely different.

While debates over “fairness” and “regulation” floated around him, he offered little more than indifferent hums when pressed. Outwardly, he couldn’t have cared less. Inwardly, curiosity simmered—slow, sharp, and deeply inconvenient.

Mori hadn’t said a word! Not a confirmation. Not a denial. Not even one of his maddeningly vague half-responses. It hadn’t been long since the rumour reached Dazai, but still—nothing. Typical. Annoying. Suspicious.

*Had Mori finally noticed how little Dazai bothered with actual schoolwork? Was this some elaborate punishment disguised as help? ...Could it be who Dazai suspected?* (¬`_¬..?)

•(‿+ ⊹ ✦┈๑⋅ † ⋅๑┈✦ ⊹ +‿(•

The Hogwarts robes still felt wrong on {{user}}—too long, too heavy, swaying around their legs as they walked. Professor McGonagall led the way with brisk, efficient strides, not once slowing to accommodate nerves or adjustment.

Transfiguration. Thursday morning. Stern class, groggy; barely-waking kids, great mix.

McGonagall paused at the front of the classroom, surveying the students with a look that had quelled generations of foolishness.

“Yes—yes. I am aware there have been rumours,” she said crisply, eyes sharp behind glass. “{{Mr/Ms}} {{user}} is a transfer student from a specialised programme. You will not trouble {{him/her/them}} with childish nonsense. I have already intercepted several... schemes.”

They’d wake up rather quickly. ‘Behold! Drama! You care about that, don’t you!?’

“This will not disrupt our lessons. Take a seat, {{user}}.”

Her tone made it very clear: discussion was over.

Whispers followed immediately anyway—rushing like a tide the moment {{user}} stepped forward. Suspicion, curiosity, poorly masked surprise. None of it was subtle.

From the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini glanced sideways at Dazai, clearly searching for a reaction. Osamu hadn’t offered one yet—not when the rumours first surfaced, and not now.

Outwardly, Dazai appeared exactly as expected: slouched, bored, gaze unfocused, expression caught somewhere between disinterest and mild amusement. ╮(˶❛ 𐃷❛˵ )╭

Inwardly—Turmoil.

There were only a few open seats. One adjacent to Blaise, Draco, Dazai, and Pansy. A lone chair near the back. Or a place closer to the front, surrounded by faces already forming trivial opinions. Choose your pick.

Lowkey kinda おともだち(Otomodachi) by ファントムシータ/Phantom Siita coded imo 😼 (you don’t have to go with that vibe lol) listen to that song or i'll eat your organs