CHAPTER 62
Among this crowd of people meeting arrivals, I naturally did not spot a single adult I knew, and a moment later students began pouring out of the train. Noisy joyful reunions, happy smiles, or strict approving nods. One question remained: where do I go? I know that the wizarding platform has the number "nine and three quarters," and that the entrance to it is hidden in a column between platforms nine and ten on the Muggle side. I overheard that. Fine. But where is the exit? And, as luck would have it, I could not see any Muggle-borns or half-bloods I knew, anyone who might even theoretically live in the ordinary world. Maybe I really should have gone together with Justin and the others. They did offer.
"What is it, Granger," Malfoy's voice came from behind me, and I hurried to turn around, meeting the gaze of him and his ever-present companions, Crabbe and Goyle. "Lost?"
"And good health to you as well, gentlemen…"
That single phrase was enough to load their brains for a full second. Then Malfoy twisted his face and pushed straight forward, as if not seeing me at all. How did it go in the book? Without pulling my wand from its holster, I made a small motion with the hand holding it, forcibly feeding magic into the wand. Naturally, the magic surged out of it in accordance with the movement.
"Protego Muris," I whispered very softly, because experiments have shown that this is sufficient.
An invisible wall appeared between me and the advancing "threat" in the form of three boys who had decided to shove past me with their shoulders, displaying their disdain. Draco flew straight into that wall, having given himself momentum with sheer arrogance, and a moment later his companions followed.
"What the…" Malfoy clutched his nose, which had clearly suffered along with his pride. As had his friends.
Remembering the experience of the previous scuffle, as well as the ability of local wizards to learn from a wand what spells were last used, I sent an impulse of neutral energy through my magical instrument, immediately trying to draw it all back in. Honestly? It hurts a little. The body of a local wizard does not really know how to absorb and store energy. Or rather, it can, but in such tiny quantities that it can be ignored. Still, this move should work, and there was unlikely to be anything left on the wand. The clarity of taking "spell impressions" from a wand depends on the time since they were cast.
"It seems you should see a healer. Sudden nosebleeds do not happen for no reason," I extended a hand to help them up, but Malfoy slapped it aside and stood up himself.
"You…"
All this time, I could not help but notice a pair standing out among the many, approaching us rather quickly yet with importance and a certain grandeur. Draco could not see them. They were coming from behind him. A tall, imposing middle-aged man in a black suit of an old cut and a fur-trimmed cloak. His distinguishing features in this crowd were platinum hair falling below his shoulders and a black cane. Beside him practically glided a lady of indeterminate age, almost as fair-haired, a truly beautiful blonde whose appearance forced at least a dozen men of various ages on the platform to turn and look after her.
Draco was already about to spit out another insult, or stupidity, or both at once, but the man abruptly and quite sharply laid the handle of his cane on the boy's shoulder.
"Draco," the man said dryly, clearly the boy's father. "It is not worth being rude to someone who offered you help."
The younger Malfoy and his companions immediately stepped aside, letting the older generation pass, though an intense desire to say something to me was plain in Draco's eyes.
"And you," the elder Malfoy looked at me, his face and gaze expressing a whole range of emotions, restrained and not so restrained, "I suppose you are that newcomer people are talking about?"
In this man it was not hard to read a deeply ingrained contempt for people like me, for my origins, and the like. What he was trying to project was mild curiosity with a touch of benevolence. Good. His wife, however, was even better. If not for the shard of the elf, I would never in my life have seen anything beyond the icy mask with its obligatory elements of arrogance and disdain. I would wager that this lady went through very harsh upbringing drills in childhood to tame a hot-tempered and even explosive nature. But I am not some great expert on people. In the elf's life there were a couple of acquaintances, elven women of this type, and only much greater life experience allowed them to fully hide their temperament from humans.
"Perhaps I am, or perhaps not," I smiled politely, having no intention of telling him about myself in response to such a vague and general question. "Draco, should I hope that you will introduce us, or will you continue shooting lightning at the floor with your eyes?"
I had not said anything special, really, but it allowed me to observe the reactions of the others. Crabbe and Goyle were clear enough. They are slow of mind, though not stupid. The elder Malfoy looked at his son expectantly, as if to say, "Indeed, show some manners." Lady Malfoy instantly harbored a tiny, childish resentment toward me, because I had touched a nerve by addressing her son. True, her face did not change at all. A flicker of nostalgia for these icy masks came from the elf shard, but vanished just as quickly. To the abyss with that. Politics and high society, without need, not a step. I even hope I will not be allowed there.
"Father, Mother," Draco spoke up. "My classmate from Hufflepuff, Hector Granger. My father, Lucius Malfoy, and my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."
He introduced us briefly, I would even say in the minimum form allowed by etiquette.
"Very pleased, sir. My lady," I inclined my head.
"I have heard," Lucius smirked slightly, and a strong sense of deja vu washed over me, "that you are talented in Transfiguration, and even in Potions."
Quickly running through all possible sources of information available to Lucius, I compared them with some knowledge about the Malfoys and photographs from Hogwarts albums of past years.
"Oh, come now," I mirrored the elder Malfoy's slight smile. "I am sure Professor Snape exaggerates my talents. Though that is strange, as he is not inclined to exaggerate virtues. Unlike shortcomings."
"In some measure, you are right. Well then," the elder Malfoy nodded and smirked. "You are surely in a hurry to meet your parents."
It was not a question, but a statement.
"And for so busy a man as yourself, it would be inconvenient to linger here unnecessarily. All the best, sir, my lady, classmates," I nodded, and having received barely perceptible nods in return, turned and walked away.
My attention was drawn to a pair of law enforcement officers in red cloaks, and I headed toward one of them.
"Excuse me, sir," I addressed a middle-aged man. "Could you tell me where the exit to the Muggle side is?"
"And why do you need it?"
"I am Muggle-born, but due to certain circumstances I have only traveled to Hogwarts by fireplace up until today."
The wizard in the red cloak looked me over appraisingly for a couple of seconds.
"There," he nodded curtly toward one of the brick columns. "You need to walk through that column."
"Alright, understood. Thank you."