No matter how much Mr. Weasley scolded the twins, these two pranksters still didn't give up on their plans and only became more determined. But Harry wasn't worried about that right now; the most important thing to him was that he was home, in the magical world with his friends. Even the new girl, Jeanne, who initially caused him strange visions, quickly stopped bothering him. So what if she had unusual hair and eyes? He had met plenty of young witches from France!
"Oh, by the way, where are you from?" Harry asked her during dinner.
For a moment, a self-satisfied smirk slid off her face, strongly resembling Draco Malfoy. If he didn't know she was French, he would have mistaken her for his sister, if not for her messy hair - Malfoy always had perfectly groomed hair. After looking deeply into Harry's eyes with her amber gaze for a moment, Jeanne asked in French:
"Que dites-vous?"
One of Ron's older brothers, Bill, immediately joined the conversation.
"Harry, she doesn't understand what you're saying."
"You can ask her where she's from," Harry suggested.
"From France, of course," Bill answered.
"And more specifically? What city or province?"
Bill exchanged a couple of words with Jeanne and then translated her answer:
"She's from Arc. Jeanne from Arc."
"Oh, so the Orleans Maid herself has graced our table!" Fred joked. "The great Joan of Arc has honored the humble Weasleys with her presence!"
For a moment, Harry felt as if Jeanne understood every word Fred said, looked at him with a gaze that could melt the strongest metal. But as soon as Harry blinked, he heard her ringing laughter. She had caught the essence of the joke and laughed cheerfully. Well, what a nonsense. Just a coincidence. After all, aren't there any Jeannes living in French Arc these days? While the twins were fooling around, dancing around Jeanne and pretending to be her loyal warriors, then friends, then a king, then Gilles de Rais, Harry caught himself thinking that all the nightmares of the past few days wouldn't lead him to any good. Relaxing, he let go of his worries and devoted all his thoughts to conversation with friends and dinner. He was with his friends, he was safe, and in their company, there was no need for him to worry about trivial matters.
"Oh, the time!" Mrs. Weasley suddenly exclaimed. "Everyone should have been in bed a long time ago..."
Harry felt like he had just touched his head to the pillow when he was awakened by Mrs. Weasley. A peaceful night without dreams. Much better than another round of horrors.
At dawn, a procession led by Mr. Weasley set off towards the portal on Stotthead Hill, with Harry, Hermione, and Jeanne in tow. Only when they all gathered at the top of the hill, on a tiny patch of ground with two Diggorys, did Harry unexpectedly catch a close-up glimpse of Jeanne's face – attentive, focused, and resolutely impenetrable. Despite his desire, he couldn't tell whether she was thinking about touching the portal in the form of an old shoe or about holding someone's hand nearby. As the group's feet lifted off the ground and they were carried away far away, Harry noticed how the faces of everyone who had traveled through the portal for the first time changed. Only Jeanne's face remained unchanged. It kept its expression even at the moment of landing. Contrary to the expectations of the adults and the reality that awaited the children, Jeanne landed on both feet instead of just falling randomly on the clearing near the landing point, as if she had traveled through the portal before. Unfortunately, without educated Bill, he couldn't ask her anything. Thoughts about her inexplicable calmness, it seemed, occupied only him, so after the group got back on their feet, they continued their journey to the tent camp near the stadium. In this tent city, they encountered many familiar and unfamiliar faces, similar and different. It was there that Harry first saw foreign students.
"Who do you think they are?" he asked. "They're clearly not from Hogwarts."
"Seems like they're from some foreign school," Ron guessed. "I know there are schools like that, but I've never met anyone from there. Bill used to correspond with someone from Brazil... a hundred years ago... He even wanted to go there on an exchange, but his parents didn't have the opportunity, and Bill wrote that he couldn't come. The Brazilian friend got very offended and sent him a cursed hat – Bill's ears folded from it."
"But what about Jeanne? Where does she go to school?"
"Ask her yourself where she goes to school. All we managed to get out of her is that she's transferring to our school."
"Don't you find it strange – going to study at a foreign school where they'll teach in a language you don't know?"
"She doesn't seem to be concerned about that," Ron shrugged. "She probably has it all figured out on some level. Maybe they'll finally assign her a translator or cast some spell on her."
Harry shrugged in response. If even a wizard friend who breathes and lives all of this doesn't know something, how would he?
"And where did you even find her?"
"Mum and Dad went to Diagon Alley when they were preparing to receive guests and brought her back with them. They couldn't pass by a lonely girl and invited her to stay with us."
"And what was she doing in Diagon Alley?"
"She was buying supplies for school."
"I wonder what faculty she'll end up in?"
In response, Ron merely shrugged.
The kids didn't have time to get bored during the day - they helped Mr. Weasley set up their place in the tent village, interacted with new and old acquaintances, walked around, talked, and had fun. Harry even missed the moment when Fred and George placed their bet on the championship.
- ...Ireland will win, but Krum will catch the Snitch - Fred declared.
Harry probably wouldn't have remembered the twins' bet later, and Hermione and Ron wouldn't have thought about it either. Only Jeanne attentively watched Ludovic Bagman's face with her piercing gaze and silently listened. The whole scene could have sent shivers down Harry and Ron's spines, but at that moment, they didn't think about the new acquaintance with whom they couldn't even have a normal conversation. Meanwhile, Jeanne seemed like a lurking predator. No one could tell what she was thinking, and she remained silent, listening attentively as if lying in wait and patiently waiting for her moment.
In the evening, the campsite came alive, and if during the day the wizards had been pretending to be Muggles, now magic was buzzing everywhere. Traders transgressed at every step, and the crowd thickened. A gong sounded under the cover of darkness.
"It's time to go," Mr. Weasley said.
The colossal size of the stadium, capable of accommodating a dozen cathedrals, impressed not only Harry. There was no one in their group who wasn't impressed. Even Jeanne turned her head in amazement, wanting to get a glimpse of the enormous structure, while Mr. Weasley explained how five hundred top-class wizards had spent a whole year building and protecting it with defensive charms. Impressed by this stadium, akin to a new Wonder of the World, Harry even felt a slight chill on his skin. One hundred thousand seats! They had seats in one of the best places - in the Minister's Box. People came to their box for the next half hour, some more important than others. However, the most important people were not even the highest-ranking officials of the Ministry, not even Minister Cornelius Fudge himself. The Malfoys, seated behind the Weasleys and their guests, behaved more importantly than anyone else. Their importance was so great that even Jeanne couldn't resist and smiled at their excessive arrogance, drawing their attention to her.
Upon seeing her reaction, Draco became indignant.
"And who are you?" he asked.
She immediately got up from her seat, extended her right hand, and began speaking in French. She spoke in a deep, beautiful voice. Draco didn't rush to kiss her hand, but his mood changed.
"Be careful, Draco!" warned Mr. Malfoy. "Some French women can have Veelas in their ancestry. If you submit to one, you'll forget your own name forever!" Turning to Jeanne, he asked, "What is the name of this lovely creature my son has the honor of meeting?"
She looked at him for a moment as if he were dirt she feared getting dirty with, smirked disgustingly, and replied, "Jeanne d'Arc."
Mr. Malfoy tried to stare down the young Frenchwoman, but his attempt turned into a game of staring in which he lost. Jeanne's amber eyes resembled those of a hungry predator, and the just-unleashed monster found its victim. Mr. Malfoy didn't want to find out right now with whom or what he was dealing, and hastened to take his seat.
At that moment, Ron and Harry involuntarily compared their new acquaintance to Hermione.
"She'll have a hard time if the Sorting Hat puts her in Slytherin," Ron whispered to Harry. "Malfoy will bury her alive for that."
"Maybe it's better if she ends up with us," Harry suggested.
"Yeah, maybe. That's better."
The match ended, leaving a sea of bright impressions for the kids and adults. Everyone was happy and celebrated. Fred and George were especially happy, as their prediction for the game came true, meaning they were now contenders for the golden reward.
On the way to the tent, Harry caught up with Jeanne and asked her, "So you understand English? I saw Malfoy talking to you, you..."
Jeanne nodded discreetly. "A little."
"If you want, you can talk to us more often, that way you'll learn the language faster."
In response, she nodded barely noticeably and smiled.
"Good night, 'Arry."