EDITED: September 12th, 2021.

Wow, last chapter kind of had a lot of responses? Thank you, xenocanaan, for reviewing, and thank you, Lame Lenny, AidenTrash, YseraVex, aestrea, and Estela prime for following and favoriting! I hope you all like this chapter.

11 - Dementors, Oh My!

My wand was in my hand before I could fully wake up.

Everyone was a blurry shape in the dark, but my friends hadn't changed spots while I slept. Harry was still the closest to the door on the right side of the compartment while on the left Ron was the one next to the window looking the outside. Hermione and I were in the middle, me next to Ron while she was sandwiched between Harry and Professor Lupin.

Our end of the train was awfully quiet. I could only hear the rainfall and my friends' exaggerated breathing.

"We can't be there yet," Hermione whispered. "We've still got forty minutes left."

"Why are we stopping, then?" Ron asked hushedly.

He touched the foggy glass. With morbid fascination, I watched as ice cracks began to form around his fingertips. He pulled away hastily, but the shape of his hand was still imprinted.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

I squinted past the handprint. Regardless of the storm, I could've sworn I saw a shadow moving, but it was impossible. The train had stopped in the middle of a bridge.

"There's something out there," I muttered, and stood up.

"Ouch! Anya, that's my foot!"

I sat down immediately. "Sorry."

The door of the compartment suddenly opened and I caught sight of the outline of a tall person before they fell. Harry grunted.

"Sorry—d'you know what's going on? Ouch—sorry—"

"Neville." I moved closer to the door compartment to avoid being crushed.

"Anya? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea!" said Harry. "Sit down—"

I heard a hissing sound and a yelp.

"Not on Crookshanks!" Hermione yelped. "We are too many here—I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on." She opened the door, and for a moment, our compartment was illuminated.

Professor Lupin shifted a bit as the weight of the grumpy cat settled on his lap. Orange eyes watched around carefully; the hairs of its tail stood straight, mouth curling back into a soundless hiss. Next to them was Neville Longbottom, who only covered the seat with half of his backside while his legs dangled from Harry's lap. On the other hand, Harry was trying to glue himself to the window facing the hallway. I looked out for Ron—but the door slid shut and we were in the dark once more.

Not a second later, I heard a thud and two squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron —"

"Come in and sit down —"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Keep the door open," I ordered, and seized Ginny's wrist, hauling her to the spot between her brother and me.

Hermione committed the mistake of closing the door before she sat down.

"Ouch!" said Neville, then Ron shrieked as he received a lapful of Hermione.

"It's me!"

"I know!"

"Quiet!" hissed a hoarse voice.

There was a crackling sound. Then Professor Lupin's face was revealed behind a handful of orange flames. He gazed around, eyes falling on Hermione, who lay across Ron's, Ginny's, and my laps, then on Neville who had all but tumbled to the floor, knees bent awkwardly.

"Don't step out of this compartment," he commanded. "Do not, I repeat, do not make a single sound!"

He stood up slowly, stepping over Neville as one would with a boulder, hand reaching for the handle of the door compartment.

There was a quiet click.

Lupin stilled.

The door slid open slowly, revealing a clawed hand. It shoved the door aside quietly until it revealed a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling.

The lights from the corridor flickered on and off. Like an X-Ray, I saw the shadow of a skeleton beneath the robes, but its face remained completely dark.

It took a long, rattling breath.

I felt all the warmth of my body leave instantly. My body reacted without thinking, pressing back against Ginny only to slid sideways and fall to the floor, right onto Neville's legs.

The creature glided inside. Its robe fluttered, touching my hand.

I saw everything and nothing at once.

Tom Riddle glaring down at me—

—Hermione's betrayed face as she ran from the basilisk—

—Harry facing Quirrel in front of the mirror of Erised—

—The troll that had almost killed Hermione and I—

—Professor Dumbledore telling me I'm a witch, his face turning into Natasha's as she tells me you are not alone—

—Me punching Carol Davis over and over, Carol's bloody face staring up at me in horror as she screamed stop stop stop her, and it wasn't her who I was punching anymore but Tom, Tom who betrayed me, my bloody grandfather grinning up at me as he said no lies, we're the same—

"Anya!"

A hand slapped me. Hard.

Everything came into focus.

I stumbled to my feet, got out of the compartment, and vomited in the hallway.

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

The stinging in my eyes was because I refused to shed any tears. Or maybe a side-effect of the three-minute retching. Either way, I refused to cry or vomit, which was why I hesitated to eat the small piece of chocolate Professor R. J. Lupin had handed out before I ran off to the nearest loo.

I'd needed to use a bathroom only once, and that had been back in first year before I caught a glimpse of Hogwarts for the first time. Nerves hadn't helped my bladder, and I'd sat on the toilet seat for ten minutes before deciding there was nothing else to do—either I peed myself in excitement or endured the pressure for the rest of the night. Thankfully, neither happened.

This second time is worse. I was stuck in a small space with only a toilet, a sink, and a window that was far too up and didn't allow too much air. But it didn't smell bad—courtesy of magic. In fact, it smelt like cinnamon apple so heavily you couldn't really breathe any natural air...

... not a good thing for someone who'd just puked her entire fill of the day.

"Why do wizards go for anything sugary?" I complained aloud.

"I believe their options were rather limited," said a voice outside the door, muffled, "as all they knew were medicinal plants from the Middle Ages for millennia."

The voice wasn't particularly distinctive but there was no kid on the train who spoke with tenor.

Hesitantly, I unlocked the door and opened it a midge—just enough to peer out with one eye.

Professor Lupin had stepped back from the door and leaned against the opposite window, unbothered by the rattling of the Hogwarts Express. He held himself casually, almost lazily; one hand was inside his trousers' pocket while the other held a bunch of black fabric, and he had one leg crossed over the other, head bent as he looked at me in curiosity.

He was really tall. It was baffling then to see him close on himself physically as if hunching would make him invisible.

His eyes widened considerably when I opened the door wider.

"Hermione's got a mean swing," I grumbled, aware of the red handprint on my left cheek. It throbbed too.

"It's a miracle Mr. Potter did not receive the same treatment," he said, and I snorted.

"He wasn't the one screaming."

No, Harry had fainted. The effect of the dementor had been so harsh on him his body couldn't handle it. After snapping me out of my panic attack, everyone had unanimously decided that Ginny wake Harry up, less Hermione knock him out for a longer period. And when he did come around, Harry had asked about a woman screaming.

"That was Anya. She had a worse reaction than you—" Hermione said.

But Harry shook his head. "No. It wasn't Anya, it was a woman."

"Harry," said Neville tentatively, "nobody but us was here. The dementor fixated on you and it touched Anya."

At that, Harry swung to his feet to peer at me outside the compartment. Ron was rubbing my back awkwardly while I retched on an empty stomach.

"You touched it?"

"Its cloak touched my leg," I groaned, leaning on the window heavily with my forehead. "Oh my God, I think I'm gonna vomit again."

And here I was. My stomach and throat ached, my body felt weak, and I was getting dizzy again.

Important life lesson to remember: never touch a dementor.

"I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey will meet with you once you arrive at the castle," said Lupin. He smiled at my dramatic groan.

"No," I whined. "I don't want to go to the hospital wing; I've had enough of it."

His eyes flickered. "So I've heard. But it wouldn't be a good precedent for the new teacher to not ensure his student's health." He held out the black fabric—and I realized it was my robe. "Miss Granger thought it would be better if you just used your robe instead of your full uniform," he smiled. "Fortunately, no one ever notices what the clothes underneath are."

I smiled, but I was sure it was more of a grimace so I stopped. Frowning heavily, I extended my hands and he handed me the robe. I shoved my arms through the sleeves and buttoned up the front.

"Is it too late to turn back to London?"

"Eat the chocolate, Miss Barton. I assure you it will help you lots... until you are in Madam Pomfrey's care, of course."

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

Professor Lupin was right. The chocolate worked wonders, returning my energy at a slow pace. But it wasn't a miracle worker; I spent most of the carriage trip with my eyes closed, too tired to pay attention to what was being said over my head or to count the time we would reach the castle.

As it was, my state made it seem like I was going from one moment from another; in the blink of an eye, Hermione was shaking me gently to inform me we had arrived. I climbed out of the carriage with her help—only to be shoved back into it as a blonde boy streaked past me.

I snarled at the sight of Draco Malfoy. He was a Slytherin in our year who absolutely loathed the idea of niceties and whose hobby was to torment Harry every chance he got. Malfoy also had the bad habit of finishing his sentences with my father will hear about this!

And it was at this moment that I remembered I was related to him. Right now, I couldn't tell you which relatives we shared blood with, but I was awfully thankful I did not look like him at all. I couldn't bear the fact of looking like I got something nasty stuck in my nose.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron snarled.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" Malfoy said loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

I squatted and picked up a rock, but just when I was about to throw it, Lupin peered outside his carriage as it came to a stop.

"Is there a problem?"

Malfoy's eyes roamed; he looked at Professor Lupin from head to toes, mouth curling in disgust.

"Oh, no—err—Professor." Smirking, the Slytherin led his apes, Crabbe and Goyle, up the steps into the castle.

I dropped the rock. "Insolent brat."

We hurried to join the crowd, swarming up the steps and going through the giant oak doors. We were welcomed by the torches' flames of the Great Hall, allowing us to catch a glimpse of the marble staircase leading to the upper floors.

Just as we were about to enter the Great Hall, a voice called: "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Barton!"

I tried to squirm my way into the Great Hall, but Harry took hold of my shoulders and turned me around—forcing me to receive the full brunt of Professor McGonagall's scowl.

I grinned and waved. "Professor! How nice to see you—we won't take your time though, so—"

"Hold it, Miss Barton."

Well, I tried.

The woman stopped before us, her cat-like eyes analyzing each. She had the same emerald robes she'd used the last two years, making me wonder if this outfit was bought for the beginning of each school year.

"There's no need to look so worried—I just want a word in my office. Move along there, Weasley." When she saw me trying to tiptoe around Harry, she warned, "Don't you dare, Barton."

When we got to her office, we were immediately ushered to take a seat in front of her desk. Once she settled in her own chair, McGonagall said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you both were taken ill on the train, Potter, Barton."

There was no chance to make excuses. At that exact moment, Madam Pomfrey burst in.

Harry flushed. "I'm fine. I don't need anything—"

I backed into the chair as the older woman all but hovered over me like a wraith.

"Hi, Poppy," I squeaked.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

I threw my hands into the air. "I didn't do anything! It's not my fault there was a bloody dementor in the train, is it?"

"A dementor!" shrieked the matron.

Then she pulled out an old-fashioned thermometer and stuck it into my mouth. I gagged.

"I told the headmaster it was a terrible idea, but did he listen? Classes haven't begun and students already are dropping like mayflies!"

"It wasn't like Professor Dumbledore had much of a choice, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall wearily.

"The minister is a complete nincompoop if he thinks they'll catch Black like this," sneered Madam Pomfrey. "What the Aurors need is brains, the whole lot of them!" She pulled out the thermometer and glanced at it scornfully. "Normal temperature. You will survive the night. But drink this—yes, Anya, don't argue with me."

"Blood Replenishing potion for a stomach bug? Come on!"

"This one was prepared so it does not interfere with your other treatment. Now, drink up, drink up!" As I pinched my nose and threw the potion back, she turned to Harry and slapped a hand on his forehead. "And you collapsed, didn't you? He won't be the last one. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate—"

"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Of course you are not," said the matron flatly.

"What do they need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should they perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine!" said Harry, jumping up.

I grunted, rolling my shoulders and pulling out what was left of Lupin's chocolate to wash out the bad taste. "Speak for yourself."

"Both should have some chocolate," said Pomfrey.

"I've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave our friends and us some."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

We both stood up.

"Oh, no! You're going to stay here, Barton!" said Pomfrey sharply, forcing me back into my seat.

"What?"

"Professor Lupin told me you that you had a different response to the dementor's presence."

"Well, Professor Lupin is a tattletale, if you ask me!"

"Touching a dementor... I swear you are my heavenly test, Barton. Most people go into shock, but all you did was puke. And taking into consideration your medical history... we need to do a complete checkout."

"You go first," I grumbled at Harry. "I don't think I'll have time for the feast after this."

"What are you talking about? You're staying at the hospital wing with me."

I slumped in my chair and almost slid off to the floor. Harry patted my shoulder in sympathy.

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

Madam Pomfrey and I stayed in Professor McGonagall's office for the checkout. As I undressed and let her do her healer-stuff, I strained my ear to hear Headmaster Dumbledore's voice coming from the Great Hall.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors."

"On a happier note," Dumbledore continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Who would have thought that troublemaker would've become a teacher?"

"Professor Lupin was a troublemaker?" I asked incredulously. "But he looks like—like he wouldn't hurt a fly."

Pomfrey stilled briefly.

"No, he wouldn't. Remus was a kind child. A shy child. It took him most of his first year to befriend one person. Oh, but then he was dragged into Po—well, by troublemakers, and there was no going back. He grew into a handsome, shameless young man... still as kind as ever. Then the War happened." Her eyes saddened. "He isn't the same from then. Quiet, yes, but it's like he doesn't have any reason to live for."

I put on my clothes, eyeing her. "Is that why Professor Dumbledore offered him a job? To give him a reason?"

She sighed. "One of many." She eyed me. "If I tell you this you must promise me no one else will find out from your mouth."

I paused on putting on my robe.

"Then why tell me?"

"Because of Sirius Black. I know you're aware he's your uncle," her brows rose at my pointed look. "Your investigation into your family wasn't a secret."

My thoughts whirled. "He's another reason Dumbledore brought Lupin." My eyes widened as it occurred to me— "They were friends."

"You are quick. That's good. But the headmaster is of two minds: either he is aiding Black, or he's one more target to take care of." But she pursued her lips... as if she were withholding information.

"But you don't think so."

She harrumphed. "What I think doesn't matter. The ministry was very clear about that."

"You—why did you go to the ministry? Did they interrogate you about Black?"

"I have said too much." She went for the door but paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. "Anya, just know that there are two sides to a story. When the Black incident happened, it got swarmed by many catastrophic events. People just wanted to get over it."

I could imagine. But it was a good start as many. Still...

"Where should I start?"

"Remus is fond of chocolate," were the matron's last words before she ushered me to the hospital wing.

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

I awoke at the shy time of five o'clock in the morning, courtesy of a disheveled Madam Pomfrey. The sight of her—the strangeness, the distorted shape—frightened me so much I rolled the opposite way and fell to the floor, wand pointing at the ceiling.

Madam Pomfrey leaned over the single-sized mattress to look down at me entirely unimpressed.

"You will poke someone's eye out," she scolded.

After another scolding for yesterday's events, a reminder to keep drinking my usual Blood Replenishing potions, and shove out of the infirmary with said potions in my arms, I travelled my way up to Gryffindor Tower.

I'd been outside my dorm in clandestine times, all of them occurring at different times before or past midnight. But the light that illuminated Hogwarts at this hour was bewitching. I was guided by a mixture of purple and blue shades that changed whenever I entered a new hallway. And over the dangerous hills that outlined the school's grounds, a band of red, orange, and yellow slowly crept up.

But I couldn't ignore the shadows flying out there. Hundreds, I'd dare to say. The dementors were supposed to protect us—catch Sirius Black—but all I felt was the beginning of a headache and my skin breaking into goosebumps.

The colors died the moment I reached the secret passage that led to the Fat Lady's portrait. She was—as any sane soul should—sleeping deeply. She'd changed her frilly dress for her version of pyjamas, an equally frilly cream-colored dress with a matching sleep cap that shook with each loud snore.

I cleared my throat.

She continued snoring.

Narrowing my eyes, I knocked on her frame. I didn't stop until she, at last, was shaken from her sleep.

"What?"

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping watch?"

"I need my beauty sleep, child!"

"Portraits don't get to sleep," I argued.

"When you have to endure preteens for five hundred years, you can get back to me on that," she snarled. "Besides, why are you out?"

"Madam Pomfrey's doing. Can I get in?"

Puffing up, she opened her mouth to say an obvious no—but I grasped each side of her frame and glared up at her.

"Fine, fine! Get your dirty paws off me." Without warning, the portrait swung aside, almost hitting my nose.

I threw her scathing smile and went through the opening... finding myself in an all-too-quiet common room. Representative of the house of lions, the furniture and rest of the décor were in shades of red and gold. On a sunny day or when the fire was up, it would look marvelous; today, on this first day of classes, it looked gloomy.

To the left were the girls' dormitories and that's where I went. I climbed the stairs past the first two doors, stopping until I found the one labelled 'third year'. When I turned the knob, I found myself stepping into the very same circular room I have been staying in for the last two years. Five four-poster beds with red curtains greeted me—all occupied except for one.

I admired the mattress longingly for a few seconds before setting to work. The potions went at the bottom of the wardrobe behind closed doors. My clothes, I noticed, had been already hung next to my uniform and robe.

"How does this keep happening?" I muttered.

Books, stationery, left-over candy, and other knick-knacks were soon in place. Then, my Hogwarts corkboard went on the shelf carved at the top of my bed.

I hesitated though. It had gone up the very first day when I didn't know shit about my parents. As the information grew, my dormmates questioned me about it at some point. Lavender Brown and Fey Dunbar had even contributed some information. But now I knew who they were. I had a strong source of information in Andromeda Tonks, willing to give me the harsh facts. Did the corkboard have any use now?

"You're back."

I turned hastily. Hermione, ever the early riser, was coming out of the secret door that led to our showers. She was clad in a fluffy bathrobe, a fluffy towel, and a fluffy pair of slippers.

She looked very fluffy.

"Yep. Madam Pomfrey has a limit when it comes to me and apparently, she reached it yesterday."

"Are you not putting up your investigation?"

Damn her shrewd eyes.

"Yes, I am. But I was thinking it seems a little too light. I did tell you about Andromeda, right?"

Hermione went to her bed and pulled the curtains closed to change.

"Yes, your aunt."

"Yeah, her." I pulled out my uniform and went to the showers.

An hour later, we were both ready and the other girls were just starting to rise.

Someone squealed. With a speed not even Harry could achieve with his Nimbus, Lavender Brown flew across the room and snatched Crookshanks from Hermione's bed. You'd think the cat would've tried to get out of her arms; instead, it remained nonplussed as Lavender squeezed her cheek to its head.

"He's so cute!" she gushed. "And fluffy! Where did you come from?"

"It's mine," said Hermione, looking just as eager as Lavender. The girl was the first to compliment the cat. "I bought it from Magical Menagerie this summer. Can you believe no one wanted him?"

"Noo!"

"Let it be," I told Parvati as she stared in horror. Our friends were chatting like they had been besties since day one—all because of Crookshanks. I could understand the shock of it. "It will die down."

Fay Dunbar walked past us and towards the showers, her clothes tucked under one arm.

"Yeah, let them bond over the ugly kneazle," she said. "Merlin knows it will come in handy one day."

Before we left for our annual visit to the library, I left a face powder compact—the most popular in the market, according to Witch Weekly—inside Lavender's wardrobe. A silent apology for stealing hers last year.