Harry chanced on a compartment containing a slightly threadbare professor at one end and Hermoine Granger at the other, and sat precisely between the two. The one slept, the other read, and Harry looked out the windows until the train stopped and the dementor came.
He felt better after he ate the chocolate and, rather than discuss the occurrence with Granger, turned to the adult.
"Thank you, Professor -"
"Lupin. I'm sorry; your friend knew who I was already. And you're -"
"Harry Potter. The famous one." One thing he'd learned from Snape: get to it first, say it just the right way, and people stopped talking about history books.
"So you are. And a third year in - Slytherin?" Adults always looked surprised that he'd sorted into the snake-pit. Harry always wished they wouldn't. Doomed to disappointment, both of them.
"My parents were Gryffindors," he offered neutrally. It was nothing more than baiting, and Harry felt a little ashamed of the tactic. And wary: Granger was still there, listening. And he wasn't as sure of himself, back at Hogwarts again.
"So they were," replied the professor softly, and might have said more if Malfoy hadn't burst in, trailing minions. Granger slipped off to a quieter seat, perhaps in the Weasley compartment.
"Harry! There you are - did you see those awful things?"
Harry shrugged. "They came through."
Draco took a seat, just before the train lurched to a stop, and took a sidelong glance at Lupin, encompassing his threadbare robe and generally disreputable appearance in one disapproving look. "We all had a compartment up front - you should have come up there."
Harry was just as glad he hadn't. It didn't sound as though anyone else had had fainting fits. "Sorry, Draco," he said. Draco was up again as soon as the train stopped, and pulling at him impatiently. He turned back in the door of the compartment. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Lupin."
