Hermione jumped and gave a small scream when Ron thumped the thick newspaper down on the kitchen table.
"Can you believe this?" he shouted indignantly.
"Keep your voice down Ron, some people are still sleeping!" Mrs. Weasley brandished a wooden spoon at him.
"But just look at this, Mum!" he insisted. "They're blaming Lupin for the attack! Somehow that Bulgarian bastard weaseled his way out of it, even though everyone knows it was him!"
"Ronald Weasley! We do not use that language in this house!"
Ron ignored her. "And look! He made up some codswallop about how 'Remus Lupin is a werewolf so he shouldn't be allowed to play' and they believed him! They actually sided with him, and now Lupin's banned from ever riding a broom again!"
The kitchen went silent. Then Fred laughed and said, "C'mon Ron, stop kidding around! You know they'd never ban Remus Lupin from Quidditch! I mean, he practically is Quidditch! Without him, the sport's boring!"
But Ron's lips just tightened in a fair imitation of Minerva McGonagall and held the newspaper up for everyone to see. Six pairs of eyes widened in shock.
"Now do you think I'm lying?" Ron hissed.
He most certainly was not. The headline said it all: 'WEREWOLF BANNED FROM FLYING – UMBRIDGE TRIUMPHANT!' Underneath it was a sickening photo: a short, ugly woman with a butterfly hair pin setting fire to Lupin's broom as he was forcibly restrained by the same security wizards who had escorted him out of the stadium. The Irishman looked anguished, and Harry remembered how he had looked during the game; like flying was what he lived for.
What's he going to live for now? Harry thought sadly.
"Poor boy." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "He seemed to enjoy it so much. What a shame."
George snorted. "A shame, my arse! It's robbery, that's what it is! A crime!"
Everyone agreed emphatically and began talking at once. Everyone, that is, except for Hermione. Ever the bookworm, she jerked the newspaper away from Ron and began to read.
Remus Lupin, 20, a Seeker for the Irish National Team, was banned from the game of Quidditch yesterday after a vicious attack on the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, 17. He was also forbidden from flying ever again, and was fitted with a restraining bracelet shortly after the hearing. This blatant violence shown by a werewolf has proven that Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Control of Dark Creatures office at the Ministry, has been right all along.
"Oh, dragons are fierce enough," she stated in a press conference outside the Wizengamot, where the trial took place. "But they've got to be the dumbest things you'll ever meet, excluding flobberworms. If werewolves were that stupid, they'd be relatively easy to handle. The problem with all half – breeds is that they are too damned smart! They can act human; even pass as human, so they call themselves our equals! And then something like this happens and they claim we're just being prejudiced! I say that we should crack down on these miserable creatures while we still can! Show them who's boss!"
And after an attack like this, there's no doubt in this reporter's mind that Miss Umbridge is entirely correct. After meeting Mr. Lupin in person, I have to admit that he is a very charming and humorous individual. But his charisma is obviously hiding his true nature: that of a bloodthirsty, violent beast. One that should be thrown in Azkaban forthwith.
Hermione couldn't bring herself to read any more. She folded the paper up and threw it in the fire. Everyone cheered.
"Arthur, he's going to miss the train!"
"He'll be there in a minute, Molly!" Mr. Weasley grabbed Harry by the shoulders and hissed, "Harry, you've got to promise me you won't go looking for Black!"
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would I go looking for someone who's got it in for me?"
"Arthur!"
"Just a minute! Promise me Harry."
The train was beginning to move. Harry broke out of Mr. Weasley's grip and sprinted after it. Ron and Fred grabbed him and pulled him aboard.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked as they waved goodbye. Mr. Weasley still looked rather worried.
"I'll tell you later." Harry whispered. The two boys found Hermione in the aisle, struggling with a panicked Crookshanks.
"Just hit him over the head, that should do it," Ron told her. She glared at him. When she had finally managed to stuff the cat back into his basket, they continued down the aisle, searching for an empty compartment.
"Can you believe that the best Seeker in the world is actually gonna teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Ron said, lugging his trunk along behind him. Harry shook his head.
"It's blinkin' amazing! I wonder how Dumbledore managed to pull it off, convincing the Ministry and all? I mean, I don't think Lupin ever went to school! How's he going to teach us?"
"Well, he probably knows quite a lot about werewolves…" Hermione said offhandedly as she peered through a compartment window. "Hey, there's only one person in here."
She opened the door and stuck her head in. "Excuse me?" No response. She tried again. "Excuse me, but can we sit here?" Still nothing. Ron pushed by her and into the compartment.
"He obviously doesn't care. Look, he's asleep!"
And so he was. A ratty old baseball cap covered most of his face and his robes were decidedly dirty. He was stretched out along one whole bench, head propped up against the window. The three friends claimed the other bench as their own, and put their luggage in the overhead compartments. Trying to be relatively quiet, they sat down and made themselves comfortable.
"Who d'you suppose he is?" Harry asked, jerking his head in the sleeping boy's direction. Hermione shrugged.
"Probably a seventh year."
"I don't recognize him."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can't even see his face, Harry."
"Oh yeah."
When they had settled in, Harry proceeded to tell them about Sirius Black and the warning Mr. Weasley had given him on the platform. They reacted in typical fashion; Ron unable to speak from terror and Hermione filling the compartment with her worried warnings and scolding. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"C'mon guys! I mean, sure, this Black character sounds dangerous, but I'm going to be at Hogwarts! The safest place I could possibly be! And this whole thing with your dad," he nodded to Ron. "Is complete hogwash! Why would I go looking for the blighter? I'm not completely daft!"
Ron looked like he was going to oppose that last comment but was silenced by Harry's fierce glare.
"I'm not going to get all paranoid about this," he continued, "And I'm not in any danger! At least not anything I can't handle. So would you please stop stressing?"
Grudgingly, they complied. The three played cards and Wizard's Chess as the English countryside whizzed past. Neville and Ginny joined them after about an hour, and they had an enormous game of Exploding Snap. The disheveled boy slept through the whole thing. When the food cart came around, Harry treated everyone to a snack. Hermione poked the boy in the shoulder, trying to wake him up in case he was hungry. He grunted and mumbled something unintelligible, then fell asleep again.
They were nearing Hogwarts, and it was getting darker. Suddenly the train began to slow.
"Are we there yet?" Neville asked through a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty. Ginny shook her head.
"We can't be there yet."
Suddenly the train lurched to a stop. Ginny screamed as she was thrown into Harry's lap. Luggage fell out of the overhead compartments. The boy fell off the bench and landed with a thump and a small "ow". The lights flickered, flickered again, and went out.
"Ouch! Neville, don't sit here, I'm here!"
"Ginny, as much as you may need a seat, this is really rather awkward."
"Oh god, Crookshanks! Come back here!"
"What is going on?"
"Yo! Quiet!"
The clear voice cut through the chaos like a knife, stopping everyone mid – sentence. There was a scraping noise and a match the strange boy held dimly lit the compartment. His face was still in shadow, and the others peered curiously at him. Something in his voice sounded vaguely familiar. The match burned quickly so he shook it out and lit another one.
"What d'ya suppose is going on?" he asked, his cheerful Irish accent taunting Harry as he struggled to remember where he had heard it before. It was Ron who finally answered the question.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
The boy chuckled. "I highly doubt that. You forget that I was asleep until about five seconds ago. Ouch!"
He lit another match and went to the door. "I'm going to go talk to the driver. Oh, here's your cat."
He bent down, fished Crookshanks out from under the bench, and handed him to Hermione.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Crookshanks, is it? He's a cutie!"
Hermione raised her eyebrows, rather amused to hear a teenage boy utter the word 'cutie'. Lighting yet another match, he made for the door, but something else got there first. A tall, sinister figure, covered in a long black cloak. It stood in the doorway, just looking around at everyone. Then it drew in a long, rattling breath, and everything changed. It was as though life would never be happy again. Everything good, and bright was sucked out of the compartment, replaced by grief and fear. Ron shuddered as he remembered the giant spiders chasing them through the forest, the enormous Queen hitting him over the head in the giant chess game… But he was not the worst off by far. Ginny was shaking, her knees drawn up to her chin as she rocked back and forth on the floor. And beside her Harry was lying face down, twitching. Ron looked back up at the Dementor (for he had heard of these creatures from his father, who spoke of them with fearful hatred), and saw that the mysterious boy was still standing in front of it, his wand out now.
"You will not find Sirius Black here. Go."
The Dementor paid no heed, just stood there breathing in and out. The boy brandished his wand at it and muttered something. Bright, blue light erupted from the end of it, forcing the Dementor backward. With an earsplitting shriek, it turned and fled, leaving the compartment in darkness once more.
Lighting the lantern with his wand, the boy turned back to his terrified companions. It was only then that they got a good look at his face at last. Ron gasped. Hermione and Neville gaped. Ginny just stared.
Their guardian angel was none other than Remus Lupin.
The young man shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny and smiled uncertainly.
"Umm… yeah…" Apparently deciding he would deal with this later, he bent down next to Ginny and put a hand on her arm.
"Are you okay?" She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Okay, let's get you up off the floor, then. There ya go. Actually, that bench doesn't look any more comfortable. Oh well."
He knelt next to Harry and turned the boy over onto his back. Tapping Harry's face gently with one hand, he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out an enormous bar of chocolate. Handing it to Ron, he said, "Here. Eat this, it'll help." Ron raised an eyebrow. Lupin saw the look and chuckled.
"Chocolate has magical healing properties, didn't you know? It'll make you happier, go on! And no, it does not cause acne, so no pimple worries."
They laughed, and Ron split the chocolate between them all. They looked on in concern as Lupin tried to revive the comatose boy on the floor.
"Do any of you know any wakey – uppey spells?" the world – famous Quidditch player inquired. "I'm afraid I'm rather useless with a wand."
"What was that thing you did to make the Dementor go away, then?" Ron demanded.
"Oh, that was one of the five or so things that I know how to do," Lupin said good-naturedly. Hermione took out her wand.
"Let me," she said, bending down next to him.
"Absolutely, good lady," he said gallantly. Hermione blushed furiously. She jabbed her wand at Harry and mumbled something, and the boy groaned.
"Amazing!" remarked Lupin. Harry's eyelids fluttered, then opened.
"Hermione? Lupin?"
The Irishman raised an eyebrow. "Glad to know we're on last – name terms. Remus, if you please."
They helped Harry to his feet, and they sat down again as the train began to move. Hermione immediately expressed her concern for the still pale boy opposite her.
"Are you alright Harry?
"I – I think so…" he stammered, running a shaking hand over his face. "Who… who screamed?"
They all exchanged confused glances. "No one screamed, mate," Ron said. "We were pretty close though."
Harry looked confused. "But… but I heard someone… a woman. She was screaming… pleading."
"It was the Dementor," Lupin said bluntly. "The thing that was in here. They feed on good feelings and happiness, leaving only your worst memories to torment you. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and were searching the train for Sirius Black." His blue eyes searched Harry's green ones.
"Harry… Potter, is it?" Harry nodded. Lupin sat back in his seat, an unreadable expression on his face. The compartment was silent for several moments, and then the Irishman leaned forward quickly, obviously deciding that they had brooded long enough.
"Well, I know you're Hermione, and you're Harry. That's a good start. May I have the pleasure of your name?" He was staring at Ginny, who turned bright red under his gaze. Ron rolled his eyes. Finally Ginny managed to squeak it out. Lupin grinned and shook her hand.
"Pleased to meet you Ginny." He turned to Ron. "I assume you're her brother?"
"To my endless shame," Ron said, shaking his idol's hand reverently. "Ron Weasley."
Ginny punched her brother in the arm as Lupin laughed. "Oh, don't worry Ron. I have a younger sister too, and it's not as bad as you think. Just kidding with you, don't hurt me!"
Chuckling, he turned to the only remaining person. "Neville Longbottom," Neville said nervously as they shook hands.
"And I," Lupin said, turning to the rest of the group, "am Remus Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Though I doubt I shall be much use." He tapped his skull with his knuckles.
"Hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny, you see."
Hermione shook her head ruefully. This man was quite a character; she could say that for him. Ron, unable to restrain himself any longer, blurted out, "You're the Seeker for the Irish team! We saw you at the World Cup! You're bloody brilliant!"
Lupin grinned. "You were there?" Ron nodded emphatically.
"We were in the Top Box!" The Irishman's eyebrows shot up.
"Whoa, nice! So you must have seen my little accident there at the end? Gotta love that Victor Krum. Yeah, gotta love him…" His happy expression faded, and an angry gleam shone in his eyes. But it was gone a moment later as his grin returned.
"You play Quidditch?" he inquired. Ron shook his head, then gestured at Harry.
"No, but he does." Lupin's crystal blue gaze turned to the black haired boy once more.
"Really? What position?"
"Seeker."
"All right! A comrade in arms!" he exclaimed, pounding Harry on the back. The boy smiled at his excitement. "Do ya like it?"
Harry nodded. "It's great!"
"How long have you been playing?"
"A couple years."
"Brilliant! Well, I'll have to come watch your games, won't I? Man, lookin' forward to it!"
He turned to the others and said, "So, what's this Hogwarts place like anyway?"
They launched into a lengthy explanation, interrupting each other and telling stories about various mishaps involving trick stairs and suits of armor. Lupin listened appreciatively, asking questions here and there and sometimes telling an amusing story of his own. In this way, the rest of the journey passed quickly, and the teenagers exited the train, sure that this year was going to be much better than the last.