Ron's baffled expression was the only answer Arin received, before the compartment door slid open yet again. This time, it wasn't a friendly face. A pale, pointed face framed by sleek, white-blond hair peered in, accompanied by two larger boys who looked like bodyguards. The boy's grey eyes swept over the occupants with a cool, dismissive curiosity. "I heard Harry Potter was in this compartment," he said, his voice a lazy drawl that carried an air of practiced superiority. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." His gaze lingered on Harry, then flickered to Ron's worn robes with a barely concealed sneer. He finally settled on Arin, who was looking at him with an open, friendly expression, as if meeting a long-lost cousin.
"It's nice to meet you, Draco," Arin said, completely missing the hostile undercurrent. "I'm Arin. Are you excited for Hogwarts? I am. I wonder what house we'll all be in. I hope it's a friendly one." The sincerity in Arin's voice was so disarming that Draco paused, his usual opening gambit of insults about Weasleys and fame dying on his lips. He was used to sycophants, enemies, and the indifferent, but this... this was something else entirely. "It's... Hogwarts," Draco managed, a flicker of genuine confusion in his eyes. "The houses are a matter of pride. My family's always been in Slytherin." "Oh, that's interesting!" Arin replied, leaning forward. "What's Slytherin like? Are they very brave, like Gryffindor?" The question was so innocent, so utterly devoid of mockery, that Draco's two cronies looked at each other, lost. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy found himself at a complete loss for words.
[+8 GP | You disarmed a potential adversary with bewildering sincerity.]
Draco's lips parted slightly, then closed. He shot a look at his cronies, who merely shrugged with identical expressions of confusion. "Slytherin is... ambitious," he finally said, the word tasting odd in his mouth, stripped of its usual venomous context. "We value cunning and resourcefulness." "Oh, that makes sense," Arin nodded thoughtfully, as if Draco had just explained a particularly interesting potion recipe. "Like being really good at finding shortcuts to the library? Or clever ways to finish your homework? That's a useful skill to have!" This was not the reaction Draco had ever received. He was used to fear, respect, or contempt, not this earnest, practical approval of his house's core tenets. He felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth creep up his neck. "Well, yes, I suppose," he stammered, before quickly regaining a sliver of his composure. "Anyway, Potter. We'll see if you live up to the hype. And you," he added, pointing a finger at Arin, "you're... weird." But the insult lacked its usual sting, sounding more like a genuine, baffled observation. He backed out of the compartment, his cronies following in a daze, and the door slid shut, leaving a stunned silence behind.
The compartment door clicked shut, leaving a sudden, ringing silence in the wake of Draco Malfoy's retreat. Ron stared at the door, his mouth agape. "Blimey," he breathed, looking from the door to Arin. "You just... you just talked to him like he was a normal person. He called you weird, but I think you actually broke him." Harry was watching Arin with a similar expression of awe, a small smile playing on his lips. "That was brilliant," he said quietly. Hoot, the owl, chose that exact moment to wake up, let out a soft, inquisitive "Hoo?", and then begin preening a feather with intense focus, as if nothing of note had occurred.
Arin, however, wasn't paying attention to their praise or the owl's antics. A strange, tingling sensation had started behind his eyes, a bit like the feeling right before a sneeze, but warmer and more pleasant. He blinked, and suddenly, hovering in the air just in front of him, was a shimmering, translucent rectangle of light. It looked like a pane of perfectly clear glass, etched with soft, glowing blue letters. It was silent and didn't seem to reflect the compartment at all, existing as its own little pocket of reality. The text read: