Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter Books belong to J

Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter Books belong to J.K. Rowling. Yada, yada, yada. The biggest trolls belong to Theodor Kittelsen (Norwegian artist, long dead), the middle trolls I don't know, but the house trolls are based on a troll in a comic by InkaLill

A/N: Thanks to all you guys who reviewed this: Krissy, *Jia*, Terra, Alice, Fawkes, Alex, becki~, kp, Thorn Baggins.. Lusa: that thingie you said, it was just in case I write something bad, y'know. Thanks to Cali and Iris Pseudacorus, my fellow Norwegians, who understood that I didn't remember Crabbe's first name. It's Vincent. Rrrright. On with the story.

The Exchange Students: Chapter Two

Harry and Ron's spirits had sunken way down below about the Exchange Project when they knew that Malfoy was going with them. Hermione, on the other hand, had used all her spare time to learn more about Norway.

"Did you know that Norway has a population on just 4,4 millions? (A/N: Hey, it's true!)" she said excited to the boys sulking besides her in the common room. "And that if you turned Norway around to the south, it would reach straight down to South Italy?"

"Whatever," Ron said. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Can't you stop sulking? Now you have been indifferent to this whole thing for almost a month. Grow up."

"Hermione, we're going to go to a country full of polar bears with Malfoy."

"So what? Malfoy is not going to ruin this trip. Besides, it isn't polar bears in Norway."

"You read that in that book of yours, didn't you."

"No, actually not. The polar bears only live on the Northern Pole, Grønland and Svalbard, an island belonging to Norway."

"Whatever."

"Awww, come on. It's almost Christmas. And Snape hasn't pulled any tests."

"Yet."

"I'm so sick of you guys! Jeez, can't you ever stop sulking and get over it? Man!" Hermione stood up. Harry and Ron looked baffled at her. Hermione usually didn't get this worked up.

"Hermione-" Harry tried.

"Oh no, don't try to explain it. I've heard it enough times. I'm not talking to you before you get over this thing." And with that, Hermione went through the portrait hole with her book about Norway under her arm. Harry and Ron sat there, gaping after her. Fred and George came over to them.

"You know, she is right. You shouldn't let a git like Malfoy ruin your trip to Norway," Fred said.

"I mean," George continued, "think of the possibilities. One: you won't have Snape or Filch lurching around."

"Two: Malfoy will only have Crabbe to fight for him." There was an evil glint Harry and Ron knew only too well in Fred's eye.

"Three: think of all the blond brainwashed girls!"

"George!" Ron was shocked.

"Okay, okay, forget the last one. But think of the other two!"

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Maybe we should apologise to Hermione." He and Ron got up and went looking for Hermione. The twins looked after them.

"You know, it will be a bit quiet when they are gone," Fred said to George.

"Yeah. We will have to double our tricks to make it even." The Twins went for an appointment with the Slytherin Common Room and some dungbombs, grinning identical mischievous grins.

***

After Harry and Ron had faced that they would have to have Draco Malfoy along to Norway, they actually started looking forward to going to Norway. They had got a list over things they would have to have with them.

"I can't believe they don't have school uniforms," Ron said.

"Is it such a bad idea?" Hermione asked. "Think about it. You can wear anything you want to wear."

"Yeah, but… never mind." Ron shook his head. Then he looked down at his list. "We have to bring summer clothes too? How long are we going to be there? A year?"

"Honestly, Ron, haven't you got even that with you? Of course we have to bring summer clothes – we are going to be there all the Summer Term! But I don't think I will bring all that clothing with me – we are going to use a plane, after all. Or maybe I'll just shrink my luggage…"

"We aren't going to use Floo powder or anything?" Harry asked.

"No, Professor Dumbledore and that Headmaster over there, Risevis(A/N: translation something like Giantwise – a rise is a Norwegian giant), wouldn't risk it, since we have the Northern Sea between Norway and England."

"How are we going to bring Crookshanks, Pig and Hedwig?" Harry wondered.

"Um, I don't think I will bring Crookshanks," Hermione said. "He'll only be trouble on the way, and think if he runs away on the moors in Norway or something…"

"Yeah, maybe that isn't such a bad idea," Ron said. "I think I'll leave Pig behind too, Ginny could look after him. Well, that is in the holidays and stuff, when he isn't in the Owlery…"

"I'll tell Hedwig that she can stay here if she wants to," Harry said. "Although I want her to come with us. If she want to come, she can only fly over to Norway."

"One thing is certain: She can't be with us when we fly over to Norway," Hermione said.

"We're going with plane?" Harry asked.

"Yep."

"Oh. I reckon we have to have Muggle clothes on the journey, then."

"You don't sound all that optimistic."

"Are you kidding? The only Muggle clothes I have are some old ones from Dudley."

"What about me?" Ron asked. "You have forgotten that I don't have any taste in Muggle clothes. The only ones my family has are some hippie and Hawaii clothes. I'm doomed. Hey – what are you looking at us for?"

"I was thinking… I could take you on a shopping trip to London for Muggle clothes in the Christmas holiday – one of the days the shops are open, of course." Hermione looked at them with a look any man should beware of.

"I don't have the money," Ron said shortly.

"Look at it like a Christmas present, then."

"…"

"Oh, come on, Ron," Harry said. He was getting sick of Dudley's clothes. "Go for it. It will be a present from me too."

"Please, Ron? You wouldn't want to look like a total idiot in front of those Norwegian guys, would you?"

"No…" Ron wasn't sure yet.

"Pleeeaaasse?" Hermione had Bambi eyes.

"Oh, all right."

"But you won't get any other presents from us."

"I said 'Yes', didn't I? But Hermione, we're not going to go shopping for more than four hours, okay? Or I'm not going with you."

"Why would I want to go shopping for more than four hours?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Hermione," Ron said, "you have forgotten that I have a mother and a little sister at home who have charge over all the shopping."

Hermione said a very bad word.

***

(In Norway: Trollheimen, School of Wizardry. Dinner in the Great Hall)

"Stille! Jeg har en kunngjøring," Risevis, the Headmaster, said. (A/N: Oooops! Sorry! Those who can't speak and read Norwegian, raise your hands. *Everybody raises their hands* Oh, right. Umm, I better translate it, then. Oh, and that weird "ø"-letter does not exist in the English alphabet, as well as "æ" and "å". I won't translate it; I'm too lazy. If you really wonder how you pronounce it, or any Norwegian words-and names-, please write it in your review. Back to the story.)

"Quiet! I have an announcement," Risevis, the Headmaster, said. "The last day of the Christmas holiday the students from Hogwarts will be arriving on Gardermoen(A/N: The airport at Oslo, the capital in Norway). Two students – from the fifth year – will be with me as a welcome committee. They will also be the students showing the students from Hogwarts around Trollheimen and help them when they are here. And, of course, you will have to speak English with them. Any volunteers?" The students looked at each other. One girl with dark brown hair started talking with a blonde girl. It seemed that they came to an agreement. The two girls stood up.

"Bjørnson? Leirgulen?" Risevis asked, looking at them.

"Why not? I promise to behave." The blonde girl smiled innocently.

"I need a boy too," Risevis said. A boy who sat beside the two girls, stood up. Risevis smiled. "All right. I have no objections. Please come with me." Risevis led the students into another room behind the teachers' table. "Ok," he said. "I want you to make a good impression on these students. I don't want them running back to Dumbledore talking about how stupid, borish and out Norway, and we, are. Because we're not. Understood?" He looked at all of them with piercing blue-grey eyes.

"Count on me, Hansi," the blonde girl grinned. The Headmaster rolled his eyes, while the other students grinned.

"Not if I could avoid it," he joked. "You may leave now. I don't want to disturb your dinner any longer. You will get more information later. And Kjersti," he said after the retreating blonde, "please don't overdo it. And don't call me 'Hansi'." Kjersti only grinned and went after the others. (A/N: 100 points to those who can guess who Kjersti is.)

***

"Look at all those muggles!" Ron exclaimed excited.

"Ron, can't you shut up?" Hermione hissed. People (muggles, that is) were starting to cast weird looks at them.

"But what are they all doing here?" Ron asked.

"I don't know... do you think they are taking the plane?" Hermione said sarcasticly.

"Very funny. But I've never seen so many muggles in one place!"

"Shut up, Weasley. People look strange at you," Draco Malfoy said in that drawling tone of his.

"Now, really. Don't you think that that's because some of us refused to wear Muggle clothes?" Ron said sarcasticly. He feigned thinking about it. "No, it has to be me." Draco was going to make another comment, but Professor McGonnagal cut in on the argument.

"Please behave, all of you. I don't want any fighting, especially not here." McGonnagal was wearing a light grey suit (with skirt) wich she looked born in. The students wore a mix of different muggle clothes, some very misplacen (like a jogging suit and bow tie), but others, like Hermione, Ron and Harry, looked very Muggle-ish indeed. Draco wore an ice blue wizard robe. Pansy Parkinson was practically drooling all over him. (By the way, she wore a pink mini skirt and a green shirt. And yellow rubber boots.)

"Okay, everybody, place your luggage here on this ramp," Professor McGonnagal said. Draco, Pansy and Crabbe did. Hermione, Ron and Harry, who had shrunken their luggage so that it fitted in their handluggage didn't need to. Neither did Professor McGonnagal who didn't have any luggage because she was just escorting them to the Norwegian airport, where they would meet the people from the Norwegian school.

"Where are your luggage?" Professor McGonnagal asked, turning towards Hermione.

"We, uh, shrank it," Hermione said hesitantly. "We didn't want to drag it around all the time." McGonnagal looked at them for a moment, then she smiled. (A/N: Okay, her lips turned slightly upwards. Picky, picky, picky.) "That's all right, then. I gather you have it in your handluggage?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said.

"Let's hope the reverse spell works, then. You wouldn't want to have miniature clothes in Norway, would you?"

"No, Professor."

McGonnagal turned towards the others, who had followed the entire conversation. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "We have to catch a plane."

"'Catch a plane'?" Ron muttered. "How do we catch a 'plane'?"

"Oh, Ron, it's just a figure of speech," Hermione said. "What she meant was that our flight goes soon, and we have to be there."

"Oh." Ron looked relieved.

Harry waited for a hard comment from Draco, but it never came. Looking over at him, Harry saw Draco staring around with slightly wide eyes, trying to get away from Pansy Parkinson all the while. He probably hasn't seen so many muggles in one place either, Harry thought. And doesn't have any idea what a plane is. He's probably nervous. Harry was nervous himself, since he never had flown in a plane before. The Dursleys had never taken him with them on their holidays in other countries. Or any other places, for that matter. Going over to Draco, he said:

"Relax. The plane won't crash. Not likely. It has to be very stable to not crash when it has Dudley – that's my cousin – in it, and it never has. Crashed, I mean." Draco turned over to Harry, opening his mouth, but closing it again. Then he narrowed his eyes.

"Are you mocking me, Potter?" he asked coldly. Harry was surprised, and didn't try to hide it. "Why would I do that?"

"You know I have never sitten in a plane."

"Hey, neither have I. The Dursleys would never take me with them on holidays." Now why did he say that?

"You hate them, don't you?" Draco said.

"Yeah. And they hate me."

"Why? Because they are muggles?"

"I don't think that has so much to do with it. I think it's more because I'm different from them. They don't like that." Harry looked hard at Draco.

"Then it is because they are muggles," Draco stated.

"You don't have to be a muggle to hate the people who are different from you, Malfoy." Harry looked Draco in the eyes. For a split second they locked stares. Harry knew that Draco knew what he had meant. Draco looked away almost immediatly.

"That's enough lecturing for today, Potter," he said coldly. Harry went forward to Hermione and Ron.

"Did it work?" Hermione asked. Harry didn't know how she knew what he had done, but he didn't bother to find out.

"I don't know. But I think the seed is there, perhaps growing." He smiled, and looked back behind them. Pansy Parkinson had come over to Draco.

"What did he say?" she asked Draco.

"None of your business," Draco said coldly.

"Did he bother you?"

"Yes. Even worse than you do."

"Then it must have been pretty awful," Pansy said angry.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

Pansy strode angry away, muttering darkly to herself. Draco smiled. Then he saw Harry, Hermione and Ron watching him. The smile quikly faded. He sneered at them.

***

They were on the plane. Draco had ignored Pansy's open hinting that she would love to sit beside him on the plane. Instead, he sat beside Crabbe five seats behind Pansy, who was now sulking. Draco didn't care. He was getting sick of Pansy drooling all over him every time he said anything to her. She had been practically ecstatic since that ball in the fourth grade, ignorant of the fact that he only had went with her because no one else had asked him. And why should they, Draco thought. Nobody wants to go with Malfoy. I'm just the bad boy and Harry the hero. Not that so many girls had asked Harry to go to the ball with them. Famous Harry Potter. They just want to go with him because he defeated Voldemort. Draco suppressed a shiver. He didn't like the thought of Voldemort. It made him think of his father. He brought me up like this. It is his fault that I'm the way I am. But what if it wasn't? Maybe he had something to say after all. It seemed that Harry, Hermione, and Ron thought so. What do they matter? I don't care what they think. Or did he? He remembered what Harry had said. "You don't have to be a muggle to hate the people who are different from you, Malfoy." Now why did he say that? I know perfectly well why he said that. Oh, well. I'll just wait and see. I don't have to change just over night. Why should I anyway? But Draco knew why, although he didn't want to admit it. Yet. He looked out the window at all the white, puffy clouds under the plane. They made a funny fairy tale country – with plaines of puffy clouds, trees of puffy clouds and creatures of puffy clouds. The sun was bright over all the white of the clouds and blue of the sky. I guess the saying is true, he thought. Over the clouds the sun always shine.

***

The speaker in the plane beeped. "This is the captain," it said. "We are now five minutes from landing on Gardermoen. Please fast your seatbelts. Do not unfasten them before you get the signal. Thank you." Harry did as he was told and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. The take off had gone fine, but the landing… He looked back at Draco. He had gone paler than usual. Harry mouthed: Good luck. Draco hesitated, before he reluctantly replied: You too. Harry smiled and turned around. The butterflies were treatening to fly out his mouth. He took a firm grip on his chair arm. Hermione smiled reassuringly at him and Ron, who had turned slightly green.

Suddenly the plane falled evenly down- and forward. They fell through the clouds, and Harry saw what looked like a line of green lights marking a "road". The air was full of snowflakes. The plane landed with a *bump* and rolled forward on the landing road. Quikly it slowed down. When it was standing still, the lights over the seats reading "Seat belt on" went out. Everybody unfastened their seatbelts and got their handluggage. With Professor McGonnagal in the lead, they went out of the plane and through a gangway before they got out in the airport hall. The plane waitresses smiled, nodded to them and said: "Have a nice day!" Harry wondered how many times a day they had to say that sentence. He shuddered at the thought. "Der er de!" (A/N: Translation: "There they are!") Harry turned towards the voice.

***

"Ok. Remember to behave," Risevis said to the students, although he looked at Kjersti.

"Relax, Hansi," Kjersti said. "I'm going to be nice. Almost nice."

"Don't call me Hansi."

"Of course, Hansi."

"I could get you detention for lacking respect for the Headmaster."

"I'll be nice."

"Just don't call me that when these students come. And not in front of the whole school either."

"We are not in front of the whole school, Headmaster."

"I know that. You know what I mean."

"Oh, all right. Where are they going to arrive?"

"Gate five," Mona said (A/N: the other girl), looking up at the blackboard with the arrivals and departures of the planes. "Seems like it is the last plane to land or take off."

"Not strange. This snow is going to be a blizzard soon," the boy, Mats, said.

They were at gate Five now. People were going out of the gangway between the plane and the airport hall.

"There they are," Risevis said. He went forward and shook hands with a strict looking woman in grey suit with her brown hair in a tight bun.

"Professor McGonnagal," she said.

"Professor Risevis. I'm the Headmaster," Risevis said.

"I have a letter here from Professor Dumbledore, our Headmaster." McGonnagal took a letter out of her purse. "It will tell you what you need to know about the students. We have had … problems with them before."

Risevis looked over the students from Hogwarts, raising an eyebrow at one of them, a boy with unruly black hair and brilliant green eyes behind glasses. "I wager you have," he smiled. "Don't worry, I know Dumbledore personally and we can handle it."

"I doubt Dumbledore would have sent him to you if he had any doubts you couldn't," McGonnagal said. Then she lost some of that strict look and smiled. "I only wish you good luck. You are going to need it."

"Thank you – I think. Our students will arrive sometime tomorrow at noon with the train."

"They will find the way?"

"Yes. The teacher with them has been to Hogwarts before."

"Okay. I'll ask Hagrid – that's our Ground Keeper and one of the teachers – to meet them on the trainstation at Hogsmeade. Your teacher will recognise him as a very large man."

"That would be perfect. My regards to Dumbledore."

"Yes. Oh, and if there is any trouble, just 'call' us. Do you have the code?"

"Yes. Thank you. Bye."

"Bye." Professor McGonnagal went to the Lady's room to apparate back to Hogsmeade (A/N: You can't apparate inside Hogwarts, you should know that) and Risevis turned towards the students from Hogwarts.

"Hello. My name is Hans Petter Risevis. I'm the Headmaster at Trollheimen, the Norwegian school of Wizardry. These students," he indicated the four students from Trollheimen, "are going to show and help you around when you are at Trollheimen. If you would follow me, please, we will find your luggage and we will get to the school."

Kjersti motioned for the students from Hogwarts to follow, and they went to the Luggage arrival part of the airport.

***

Hermione and the others looked at the three students who had come to meet them. McGonnagal stood a little away from them, talking to a young man in the mid-twenties. All the Norwegians had muggle clothes, which wasn't surprising. They were, after all, on an airport full of muggles.

"Hi. I'm Kjersti," one of the girls said. She had silver-gold hair with streaks of white reaching halfway down her shoulder blades, black tight-fitting flared jeans, a black top with tiger motive in silver, and a black leather jacket, just a little longer than the waist, hanging open. The other students had clothes that didn't … separate them from a mass so much. The girl had shoulder length dark brown hair, a light blue sweater and blue flared jeans. The boy had wide jeans hanging real low (A/N: I don't know the word for that fashion in English, in Norwegian it's called 'sagging') on his waist(ok, it hang below his waist), and a dark blue college sweater. It seemed like they used those clothes all the time. "This is Mona and Mats," the girl named Kjersti continued, pointing at the other students with her. She looked questionary at Hermione.

"Oh! Umm, I'm Hermione, and this is Harry and Ron," Hermione said and pointed at Ron and Harry. Any minute now she's going to jump squealing at Harry and shriek: "Oh my god! It's Harry Potter!" and faint, she thought. But the blonde just smiled and said: "Nice to meet you. Let me guess: Ron Weasley and Harry Potter." Ron looked taken aback, Harry looked relieved that she hadn't shrieked at him and didn't stand talking to his scar, and Hermione thought that Kjersti maybe wasn't that braindead after all. (A/N: HAHA! Not all blondes are!)

"Umm, how did you know my last name?" Ron asked. He understood that she knew Harry's, but…

"That brother of yours, Charlie/Bill, have been around sometimes after that affair with the Norwegian Ridgeback a friend of yours had."

"How do you know about Norbert?" Ron spluttered.

"My brother was one of those flying away with Norbert," she said. Seeing the looks on their faces, she smiled. "Don't worry. Norbert is now enjoying himself barbecuing jotuns trying to escape from Jotunheim."

"What is a 'jotun'?" Harry asked.

"It is a sort of troll. It can have many sort of shapes. Jotuns was the enemy of the old Northern gods. Jotunheim is their exile place. It means 'Jotun's Home'."

"Yeah, I've read about them," Hermione said excited. "Odin, Tor, Sleipner, Mjollnir…,"

"We get the picture, Hermione," Ron said.

"You've read about the Northern Mythology?" Kjersti asked entusiastically. "That's cool. I really like it…"

"Hermione reads about everything she can get her hands on," Ron grinned.

"Shut up, Ron."

"But," Harry said before Hermione and Ron could attack each other, "you said the jotuns was in some mythology. How can they exist?"

"Oh, they are real. Mythology is based on a few facts, you know." Kjersti smiled.

"Great," Harry muttered.

Then the guy Professor McGonnagal had talked to turned towards them, and smiled.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Hans Petter Risevis. I'm the Headmaster at Trollheimen, the Norwegian school of Wizardry…"

***

After retrieving their luggage, the Hogwarts students followed the Trollheimen Headmaster to a Mini bus parked outside the airport. The blizzard shrieked around them, tugging at clothes and tipping over luggage. Risevis took the car keys and pressed a button on them. The car blinked, and the doors were open.

"Get inside!" he yelled over the howling wind. The Norwegian students hauled the luggage in the back of the bus, while all the Hogwarts students climbed into the bus. Hermione, Ron and Harry placed themselves at the back of the mini bus, in a three-seat: it was one row with two seats and one with three seats. A little while later Kjersti and the other girl, Mona, sat on the two-seat beside them. Hermione noted that the Trollheimen students didn't seem touched by the cold, howling blizzard outside, although she and the other students from Hogwarts all had shattering teeth.

"So," she said. "Is it always this cold in Norway?"

"Cold?" Kjersti looked surprised. "Do you call this cold? This is warm. Just wait 'till when the polar bears comes! That's when it's cold!"

"Polar bears? You've got polar bears here?" Harry looked at Kjersti and Mona with a look of outmost disbelief. It seemed like Mona tried hard to suppress a laugh.

"What's wrong with that?" Kjersti asked innocently.

"Hermione, you said they didn't have polar bears here!" Ron looked accusingly at Hermione.

"But-but, they don't…," Hermione stammered.

"..have polar bears? Of course we do. And if you think this is cold, you don't stand a chance when it's January. That's when the polar bears come down from Finnmark (A/N: the northern most county in Norway.)," Kjersti said calmly. That was when Mona couldn't suppress it any more. She laughed and laughed and laughed. "I can't take it anymore… I can't!" (A/N: This was originally said in Norwegian, but for your benefit, I got her to say it in English.)

"Ummm, why is she laughing?" Ron asked. That was when Risevis asked in a surprisingly chidingly (and Dumbledore-ish) tone:

"Kjersti? Are you pulling that 'polar bear-trick' again?"

"Polar bear trick?" Harry, Ron and Hermione turned towards Kjersti.

"Ummm, yeah," she said in a small voice.

"You told me you would behave, Kjersti," Risevis said accusingly.

"Yes."

"And you said you would, didn't you."

"..yes."

"And was that a nice thing to do to our guests?"

"…no…"

"So what do you say?" Risevis hid a smile.

"I'm sorry I pulled the 'polar bear-trick' on you, we don't have polar bears in Norway, they only live on Svalbard, the Northern Pole and Grønland-"

"I told you!" Hermione said triumphantly.

"-and I promise not to do it again. Satisfied, Hansi?" Kjersti concluded.

"I didn't quite hear that last part," Risevis said pointedly, although that smile he tried to hide was creeping over his face.

"Satisfied, Headmaster?"

"That's better."

"Thank you."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that last comment."

"Kjersti?" Hermione asked.

"Yes?" Kjersti turned towards her. The bus had become warm, but the blizzard was still storming outside.

"What does 'Trollheimen' actually mean?" Ron and Harry turned towards them too.

"In English it's 'The Troll home'."

"Uh, you don't have any trolls, do you?" Harry said uncertain. Kjersti looked strangely at them.

"Of course we have. That's why we call it Trollheimen, after all."

"You are kidding, right?" Ron said sceptically. "Come on, we're not going to fall for it another time."

"I'm not kidding," Kjersti said. "We have trolls, lots of 'em! We even have House trolls."

"House trolls?"

"Yeah, one for each house. What?" Ron, Harry and Hermione looked at her like she was a madman.

"You're not kidding," Hermione whispered. "You actually have trolls in your school."

"What's wrong with that?" Kjersti asked. "Trolls are cute. Right, Mona?"

"Hmmm?" Mona had fallen asleep. "What?" (A/N: This was said in Norwegian.)

"Isn't it right that trolls are cute?" Kjersti repeated.

"Yeah, shure. Especially with those tails…" Mona yawned and fell back to sleep.

"Tails? Trolls don't have tails!" Harry said.

"Of course they have. Cute little tails with-" Kjersti stopped. Then she slapped her forehead. "Of course! Maybe I am pure blonde after all! This was totally dumbheaded, so.." (A/N: Sometimes I say that, since I'm not stupid and a natural light blonde)

"What was?"

"You think about that sort of troll that is in England! I forgot that the word 'troll' are used both on those stinking, dumb, ugly monsters and the original troll," Kjersti explained.

"What do you mean, original troll?" Ron asked.

"Did you know that the word 'troll' actually comes from Norway? (A/N: It's true) Well, in Norway the word 'troll' is used about some good creatures, too. So when we talk about 'house trolls', we mean cute little creatures with cute little tails and stuff. There are three troll types in Norway: those big ones who look mostly like large rocks with moss on them and has a tree on the nose, some who have about the same size and appearance as we and rather lion-like tail – those are the ones usually used on the souvenir postcards – and those cuddly little house trolls."

"Oh. That's all right then. We thought you meant those yukky mountain trolls," Hermione said. "Fortunately, you weren't."

"Yup."

"Kjersti?" It was Hermione again. Some time had passed – the wind had settled more down, but it was still snowing heavily.

"Yes?" Kjersti turned towards her, away from the book she was reading.

"How long does it take to get to your school?"

Kjersti looked down at her watch. "Another hour, I think. Normally, I mean, muggle way, it would take a few days with car or bus, but since we are using magic, it only takes as many hours as it would have taken days."

"Oh. Are we flying?"

Kjersti smiled. "Not really. It can seem that way, but actually we are jumping from one place to another, in the air. It wouldn't be safe to be on the road, since we could risk landing on a muggle car."

"How do we, er, jump?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Out in the front there is a map with jumping points," Kjersti told her. "Each jumping point has a code number, which Risevis – you know, the Headmaster – dial in on a desk top with his wand. It really is just a mix of technology and magic. Very practical, but if you don't know where it is you're going, it can be very dangerous."

"Professor Risevis," Hermione said thoughtfully. "He must be very powerful."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, he is rather young to be Headmaster over a wizard school, isn't he?"

Kjersti looked forward at the driver of the mini bus. "He is, isn't he? I remember our old Headmaster. He was ancient. The worst part about him was that he mixed us students with students he had had fifty years before. Maybe that's why the other teachers wanted a young Headmaster. They were getting tired of that old guy."

"How old is he, really?"

Kjersti breathed slowly out. "Let me think now. He's got birthday in…right. He's twenty-five now. He was twenty-three when he got the job."

"Oh. He was fortunate, then."

"I don't think he would agree with you on that."

"Why not?"

"Let's just say that certain students doesn't have that Headmaster-student-very-much-respect relationship with him. You know, like you have with Dumbledore. He's more a big brother-figure than that grandfather-figure."

Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, but realised that it actually was true. Dumbledore was more a grandfather you wouldn't want to disappoint than some sort of policeman watching over you, waiting for you to do something wrong so he could throw you behind some bars.

"But is that so bad?" she asked.

"Probably not, but then, he hate the paperwork too."

"Oh. That explains it."

"And Hermione," Kjersti said before Hermione turned towards a book, "my name is pronounced 'Cherstee'. Without that round 'r' you are so fond of."

"'Cherstee.' Okay. My name is pronounced 'Her-my-oh-nee'."

"I knew that," Kjersti grinned. "I just said it different to irritate you."

"You are a very bad girl," Hermione smiled.

"I know." They grinned at each other.

"Kjersti?"

"How many times are you going to start asking something with that word?"

"Oh, I don't know. 50 more, maybe." They laughed.

"So, what was it know?" Kjersti's smile took off the edge in the words.

"Aren't you guys very good in English? I mean, it isn't your native language."

"Well, no, but we start with English when we are about nine, and there is very much English in movies and stuff."

"Muggle movies? Do you watch them?"

"Shure. We aren't so disconnected from muggles as you maybe are."

"Well, I have muggle parents, but…"

"They aren't much involved in the wizard part of your world?"

"No."

"I have muggle parents too. And an elder sister… well, she is muggle, but we kinda forget that sometimes."

"Oh."

"Well, when we come to Trollheimen you'll know what I mean. But don't think all of us are so good in English. I'm not either, you know that slug I get when I speak the words…"

"I think you speak it rather well."

"Thank you. But Mats is much better than I. Have you heard him talk much English yet?"

"No…"

"Well, he's a genius. But wait 'till you hear those from Oslo and places around it… Every time I hear them try speaking English I try to resist laughing." Kjersti took on a dumb look and said: "Dey speak wit a verry larrge 'rr'. And they roll it. The 'r', I mean."

"But why can you so much English?"

"Books. I'm a bookworm. You wouldn't think it by looking at me, would you? Well, most of the books I read are in series, and most of them aren't published in Norwegian, so I read them in English. And then, there are the books which isn't published and probably won't be published in Norwegian…"

"What kind of books do you read?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Mostly 'fantasy'. You know, with magic and dragons and stuff…"

"Like the wizard world?" Hermione smiled.

"Yeah, but in other worlds – I mean, not our own world. Besides, it is rather funny to read fantasy books written by muggles… Although some of them are wizards. What about you?"

"Oh, I read – like Ron said – any kind of book I can get my hands on, except the books about the Dark Arts. What are you reading now?" Hermione looked at the book in Kjersti's lap.

"Oh, this? For once it isn't a fantasy book. It's, er, in English it's translated 'Anne Frank's diary", but I'm not shure if it's called that… do you know it?"

"Yeah, that diary a Jewish girl wrote during World War Two?"

"Yes. You read it?"

"Yes. It was really sad, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. This is the second time I read it."

"I've read it three times."

"You got me there."