"Trust me, you shouldn't want anyone like me on your back."
"Maybe I don't want anyone like you on my back," His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, confining me tighter into barely any space as my back pressed against the wall.
"Maybe I want you. U...
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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
WE SAT IN THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS as the train rushed past the passing landscapes like water through a waterfall—fierce, uncomprehending.
Ilvermorny was somewhere far behind us now, its familiarity lost to the winds. I knew in my heart somehow that I was never going to return there. The castle was just a stop, I had known it even before I had arrived there with the Beauxbatons' delegation for the Huntlock tournament. That castle had always just been a stop, a brief space of time in the journey I had made and was yet to make.
In all its strange dormancy, the castle had still changed me. Before having come to Ilvermorny, I was tortured and now leaving it, I felt less so. Before having come, I didn't know my great uncle, and now leaving it, I had his blood on my hands and his twisted legacy in my chest.
The entrance to platform 9 ¾ had been summoned by Albus Dumbledore in a way that the threshold lay beyond the crossing of one of the small peaks of the Greylock in Ilvermorny's periphery. Having to run headfirst into the stone of an ancient mountain peak had been unnerving, yet it had gotten us through to the train station where the Hogwarts express had lain in wait.
The station had been empty, and the headmaster of Hogwarts had let us know promptly that the train had just made a round from Hogwarts to take students home for winter break a day ago, which meant that the castle would stand empty to greet us with the exception of a few staff that had been asked to stay behind.
Beauxbatons followed a similar pattern, and Ilvermorny too for there were no classes to be held for the duration of the Huntlock tournament.
"The Irish," Viktor Krum spoke, shaking his head. "Don't get me started on those fuckers."
"Well," Zubair Dimitrova shrugged nonchalantly. "They had their time to shine didn't they? It'll be our turn next."
"We did get that snitch though," Krum ran a hand over his head. "I doubt they'll forget that."
I turned away as the guys conversed about last year's Quidditch world cup. I didn't realize how long I had zoned out when Viktor addressed me.
"You ever been to Hogsmeade, baby?" Viktor Krum spoke in my ear, though his tone was nothing reminiscent of a whisper. "I can show you around. Pretty cool village, Zubair and I made friends with some bartenders last time and that pays off sweet."
His hand gently squeezed my shoulder from behind me, as I rested my head on his muscled arm.
"Ain't that right Zubair?" The Durmstrang nodded towards his friend, who was sitting opposite to us in the train compartment, his own arm similarly around Bridgette's. Except, she had nodded off to sleep.
"Remember all those rounds on the house we got?" Krum grinned.
"Yeah," Dimitrova mused, a mirrored grin on his own face. "All we had to do was give them a show."
