Two Souls

Chapter Eight

         "Hi," I say awkwardly. Fred and George snicker to themselves and quickly leave the compartment, leaving me alone with the trio who is giving me skeptical looks. I debate on whether or not to close the compartment door behind me, but I decide to close it not fully just incase I need a quick way out.

Ron raises an eyebrow at me. "What did you do to Fred and George to make them want to introduce you to me?" He asks suspiciously.

I'm surprised he asked me that. "Nothing, I just told them I was a fourth year and they did the rest."

Hermione wrinkles her nose. "Shouldn't you be with Malfoy?" She asks disgustedly. "I thought you and him were dating after all."

My happy demeanor falls. "We aren't dating."

Ron looks at me skeptically. "You and him were together at the Quidditch World Cup. Malfoy doesn't hang around with just anyone," He tells me.

"Our parents are friends. That's all it is. That boy has hardly said ten sentences to me," I reassure the trio.

Harry Potter, who hasn't said a word yet, decides to input. "I believe her," He says, still looking at me.

"Why?" Hermione asks, tucking her book into the bag next to her and staring at Harry as if he has six different heads.

Harry shrugs. "She has an American accent, she mustn't have been here for long. And she hasn't given us a reason to not believe her."

My insides melt and I'm grateful for him at this moment. Ron and Hermione seem to agree with his statement because the next thing I know Hermione is moving over and allowing me to sit next to her by the window. The thick rain blocks the entire view of the outside, but I don't mind.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," Ron says from next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother wouldn't say. Wonder what—"

"Shh!" Hermione whispers suddenly, startling me. She presses a finger to her lips and gestures to outside the compartment.

"... Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore— the man's such a mudblood lover— and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn about them, not just the defense rubbish we do..." Draco's protruding voice said from outside of the compartment.

Hermione tip toed to the compartment and fully shut the door, blocking out Malfoy's voice.  "So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" Hermione says angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" Harry asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes," I respond to Harry. "And it's got a horrible reputation. My old Headmaster told us that the school puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts," I say, my eyes trailing to the compartment where Malfoy is probably still standing.

"I think I've heard of it," Ron says vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" Hermione asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Er— why not?" Harry asks uncomfortably.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their where- abouts so nobody can steal their secrets," I tune in matter-of- factly.