Word had spread fast at Durmstrang that English students were arriving. The consensus was entirely split. Some students anticipated their arrival massively and some wished they would simply stay in their own country. The promise of the first female students was also widely debated. Many of the men drooled over the idea of seeing a girl their age every day at school and others thought them unfit to be at the institute. One student who had thought about it very little was sixth year, Viktor Krum.
"Let them come, see if they can last a month here." He had said in an indifferent tone. The other men hooted and hollered, enjoying his sentiments. It was not that he disliked the English, he just didn't see the point in their trip. The triwizard tournament had been postponed a year, for obvious reasons, following the war and Viktor couldn't help focusing on becoming a warrior for the championship, rather than making new friends.
They had all been lined up, in an orderly fashion, to greet the newcomers. Viktor was placed near the front, next to the new headmaster: Sergei Chigvintsev. He was new to the school and many of the students believed him to be weak, allowing this scheme to take place. Whether they liked to admit it or not, the men were excited for the arrival of the new students and the throng hummed with anticipation as the boat arrived. Viktor, however, tapped his foot impatiently and counted the seconds before he could return to his training.
Hermione stood in awe of the castle. It was smaller than Hogwarts and perhaps more angular, but it was made of a similar stone, which was comforting in a way. The pack of men scared her out of her wits. She had stared into the soul of the most evil wizard who had ever lived, yet seeing hundreds of mean looking men left her shaking in her boots. She took a deep breath as she began to walk. One of the more obvious scars that she had gained from the war was a limp, caused by an injury to her right ankle. She was embarrassed of the obvious impairment, even more so now, with hundreds of people watching her. She struggled along, at the back of the pack, beside Neville.
"Are you sure you don't want-" He began to ask.
"No Neville, thank you." Hermione interrupted him. She did not want to be seen as weak. She was not in any physical pain, only annoyance and until she felt pain, she would walk on her own two feet, unaided.
Viktor looked upon the strange bunch in confusion and a hint of wonder. The first student, also the first girl, wandered in, looking around with an expression of absolute bemusement plastered on her face. Her hair whipped around her face, creating a white haze around her. Viktor dismissed her quickly, finding her rather confusing, but vapid in a way that was uninteresting to him. The boy that followed her was tall and muscular, with a good physique and a confident air about him. He smiled handsomely and stared into the throng of angry men glaring him down. He seemed easy going enough and Viktor was sure he would do well. The boy that walked in the middle of the pack was different. Viktor recognised in him a quiet self respect that he valued massively. He walked, with his hands placed firmly by his sides and his posture straight, staring directly into the masses. There was no fear in his eyes, no anxiety, only a pain that Viktor could not comprehend. Trailing at the back of the pack were the final two students. The boy was tall and large with youthful muscle. Viktor thought if he had a haircut he would look almost like a Durmstrang man. He walked beside a girl, a girl that caused whispers in the crowd. She limped, her step attempting to be graceful , yet failing. Viktor noticed the boy offer help and raised an eyebrow as the girl immediately denied it. However, apart from seeming physically handicapped and possessing hair which he had never seen the likes of before, she was also, very uninteresting.
Hermione stood in awe of the student body, as the Headmaster came to welcome them.
"Hello. Velcome to Durmstrang. Ve all hope you vill enjoy your year here. Please come, I vill escort you to your rooms." He turned and marched away. Hermione noted how harsh and cold he seemed, despite his warm words, but she wondered if that was maybe just the eastern attitude. The crowd parted for them, allowing the students to enter the castle. Hermione felt herself shiver, the temperature of Durmstrang being at least ten degrees below what it had been at Hogwarts.
"It's a bit chilly, isn't it?" Neville whispered to Hermione, who shivered and nodded in agreement.
The stairs proved to be a slight challenge for Hermione, but it was not something that she could not overcome and her room was only on the first floor. It seemed that both Hermione and Luna had received their own rooms, to which Hermione was very shocked, yet pleased. The group left her to continue and she was at last alone. The halls filled with conversation in a language that Hermione did not understand, but she could detect the tone of the speech: amused. No doubt they had expected a more impressive group and instead they received a handful of scrawny teenagers, scared out of their boots.
Viktor had asked to be an aid to the English students, but had strongly refused. He had far superior things to worry about and had no intention of having any business with the English. Another fifth year student, Vlad, had been recruited as one of Hermione's aids. He would go with her to some of her classes and ensure that she was settling in well. Vlad was one of the scarier looking men. He was six foot five, with a large frame and dark blank eyes. He knocked on Hermione's door to escort her to dinner. She answered, looking up at him with fear in her eyes. He chuckled once, looking down at the poor girl, who appeared to be positively terrified of him.
"Food." Was all he said to her. She was starving and nodded following him as he left. No names were exchanged, he didn't have a clue who she was, only that she was the witch with the bushy hair and the limp.
Hermione missed the intricate locking system at Hogwarts. Durmstrang had only a simple recognition charm, that although more secure, seemed far inferior in flare. She pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan, feeling her body shiver. She had opted to leave her tie back in the room, wearing only a white shirt, black cardigan and grey skirt. She did not keep up with Vlad as he walked ahead of her, her limp causing her to fall behind. He stopped and allowed her to catch up, before giving her a worried look.
"Don't worry about me, I'm just a little slow." She smiled up at him jokingly. He nodded, face deadpan as he continued at a decreased pace.
Neville, Luna, Seamus and Cormac all sat at a table of their own when Hermione entered the hall. However, it seemed her helper had other ideas. When she looked over to the table, he tapped her shoulder and pointed to two free seats in the middle of the room. Hermione understood that there was no real element of choice in this situation, so sent an apologetic look Neville's way and followed the very large man. He pulled her seat out for her, Hermione nodded, impressed by the gesture. Placed before her was a kind of meat stew that she began to gobble down, both famished and freezing, which the heat of the dish helped with. She looked up from her meal to see the men surrounding her staring in both amusement and shock. She placed her cutlery down for a moment and poised herself in a more respectable stance.
"Vlad." Her very large guide grunted, thumping his chest once. Hermione nodded.
"Ah, your name is Vlad. Alright. Well I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger." She placed a hand delicately to her chest then removed it moments after.
"Her-my-own?" Vlad attempted her name and she felt the need to correct him, but thought she shouldn't out of fear of offending him.
"Yes, that's it, sort of." She smiled up, trying to be as civil as she was able.
Soon, a whisper began around the table and eyes became wide with realisation, looking towards Hermione. She couldn't imagine where this had come from, but she feared she might be about to become the victim of a beating, the knowledge of her being muggle born spreading. The men called a friend over and Hermione's anxiety began to swell.
"Hello, I am Aage. I speak English." The man announced to her. He had slicked hair and a thin moustache that reminded Hermione of old black and white muggle movies.
"Oh, hello. I'm Hermione Granger." She replied, again trying to be civil. He outreached a hand, in between two heads, towards her and they shook, in a very muggle-like fashion, which shocked Hermione.
"The men vould like to know, if you are the Hermione Granger?" He managed to pronounce her name correctly, which impressed her immensely. She was unsure how to reply to this question. She knew that the simple answer was yes. But, she did not want to enter this institute with any kind of reputation.
"I am that Hermione Granger if you speak of the war." Hermione's voice broke. She hated speaking about the war and she hated people thinking she was a hero because of her part in it. Aage replied to his companions in the language that Hermione did not understand and they nodded one by one, in disbelief that they were in the presence of one of the witches who killed a part of he who must not be named.
Viktor sat in the corner of the hall, with the quidditch team and watched as Aage asked the girl a question. He did not fully hear the English, nor was he sure he would have understood it if he had. But what he did understand was the ripple of conversations that came his way.
"She is Hermione Granger, the one from the war." One of the men whispered.
"She killed a part of you know who." Another man replied. Viktor looked at the girl, who was now the subject of such gossip and sighed. Her face was red, yet she shook with cold, her arms were crossed in her lap and she looked down at her stew, not wanting any of the attention she was receiving. Viktor knew this feeling all too well. When he would leave Durmstrang, girls would flock to him, screaming out to the world class seeker, declaring their love. He had managed, after a long time to block out their screams and chants, but he could tell that this girl was new to this attention and was enormously uncomfortable with it.
Hermione wanted to leave, to go to bed and sleep in preparation for the day that lay ahead. However, she was unsure of the way back and she did not want to seem rude. She gazed enviously as Neville, Seamus, Luna and Cormac left, wishing she could go with them. She wondered why none of them seemed to have a strangely possessive guide, why she was the only one saddled with the social butterfly. But she supposed, in the long run, that it was good that she was at least there to participate in the social aspect of Durmstrang life, despite how uncomfortable it made her.
Eventually, Vlad grew tired of his active conversation and stood, signalling for Hermione that it was time to leave. She was tired, she was worn out and she hated that fact that she had to walk back to her room. However, she stood up straight, lifted her head and walked with pride, despite how much discomfort she felt in her ankle.
Once they got back to her room, Vlad stood with her in the doorway.
"Thank you, for taking me." She chimed up to him. He stared down at her in confusion, then said something in a language that Hermione didn't understand.
"O-Okay." She nodded, unsure as how to reply. Vlad nodded and turned on his heel, marching away. She showered quickly, crying out as the freezing water touched her skin. Then she laid in her bed, contemplating what was going to happen whilst she was here. There was an obvious language barrier between the only student she knew and the lack of successful communication scared her senseless. The sound of the trees rustling in the breeze lulled her to sleep, falling into slumber for the first time since leaving England.