The air from the corridor seems disproportionally cooler, and it rushed in around the dark shadow that stepped over the threshold of the compartment.

A tall, cloaked figure stood in the doorway, its outline only built by the mellow, blue glow of a wand-point.

"Lupin," it spoke. "Dawlish mentioned you'd taken on the post this year."

He raised an eyebrow. "He hadn't mentioned a sting operation, on the flip side. You've had the students falling over themselves. I thought I heard... shock and awe?" The Professor extinguished his own impressively burning hand, and the tall woman's wand began to glow brighter, and brighter still, until the shadows in the compartment were banished. They shook hands amicably, but their faces remained stiff.

"Is the SA satisfied?"

"We knew it was a long shot," she said. "But it's an effective security measure all the same. Covering our cloaks, so to speak. We're working in tandem with Hogwarts on this case, as you well know. Not as much as we'd like, but things are heating up in the south and on the Green Island. We're split for work. He's high priority but that's being called into question with some recent events."

"I am certain that myself and the other Professors will do our very best, and remain cooperative with your forces, Amelia. We understand the convention takes precedence." She suddenly turned to look around the compartment like she'd just noticed the large group of Gryffindors.

Harry looked at her light cloak in dark blue, with gold lining. She was an Auror, he thought. Not a despicable creature of soul-sucking capabilities. How could he ask why? Why didn't the dementors stop the train this year?

"Auror Bones," she announced at large. "Our team does apologise for the strange fright, but we didn't want to give Black any forewarning."

"Black!" Hermione squealed. "But- on the train - "

"He is not," Auror Bones said gently. "We have checked front to back," she gestured to their carriage generally. "And we are very thorough."

"But why?" Hermione pressed. "Why are you looking for Sirius Black here?"

Bones looked confused. "Well, it's not the most notorious of his crimes, but aside from his... attack, of those innocent people that night, Black had been a grand supporter of... You-Know-Who. He's an adept duellist, or he was, and had been the Dark Lord's right hand man for all the time we thought he was with us. It's not unlikely that the Black madness would lead him to Harry Potter, in an ill-advised attempt to avenge his leader. It's fairly well known of a theory, so I feel comfortable explaining that. Don't need to go on demiguise hunts to find out what we're here for."

Hermione was gearing herself up for a shout at Harry the second the adults were gone, he knew it. Because he didn't look surprised, only resigned, and she watched his expression hungrily. He nearly sighed.

Harry thought maybe Auror Bones didn't know he was there, but then she turned to face him fully. "Now don't go worrying yourself, Mister Potter. It's only a possibility. After all, he's spent twelve years in Azkaban. He may have no motivation outside of his own freedom, but we remain vigilant. Your Professors will monitor the situation and if we need to be called in to protect Hogwarts," here she snorted at herself, "then we will be prompt and prepared. He was an adept duellist - now he's a shell of the man he once was, at best. Is that clear, Mister Potter? And Mister Potter's friends?"

"Yes, Auror Bones," said Harry, a little taken aback. In a strange way, her blunt attitude was reassuring.

"You lot will be arriving soon, so chins up. Lights will be on in a few." She began to dim her wand light again and stepped back into the corridor, and Lupin removed his hand from his pocket again and let it burn. It was such an eerie conjuration. Harry watched Hermione watch the Professor, clearly deeply interested, but still shaken but the potential closeness of the threat of Sirius Black.

Once it was apparent that Auror Bones was quite gone, Professor Lupin took to really looking around the compartment.

His eyebrow drifted up again, at Harry's round wire-frame glasses and likely the small, infamous scar on his forehead by his fringe. "Harry Potter, sir," he said, to jumpstart the introductions.

"Professor Lupin," he said. "Pleased to meet all of you - " He looked expectantly to Neville, who was eyeing the flaming hand as intensely as Hermione, but with a great deal more trepidation.

"Oh - " he blinked. "Neville, er, Longbottom. Professor, sir."

"Ah, and let's go around," Lupin said with a smile that could put Professor McGonagall at ease.

"Hermione Granger, Professor," she said eagerly. "Is that an enchantment?"

"Whatever makes you ask that?"

"You didn't say a spell out loud, and both times you only used your right hand, sir." He smiled in the way that crinkled his eyes in the corners.

"Quite right, Miss Granger- and you three?"

"Ron- "

" -and Ginny Weasley," she said. "His sister," and she jammed a rude thumb into Ron's arm with a smile.

"Dean Thomas," the last member of their brigade gave a small wave to the Professor. "Hullo, sir. You seem pretty alright for a bloke who's hand's on fire."

"Thank you, Mister Thomas, and I'm quite alright. No call for concern, it is indeed an enchantment- " There was an odd shutter through the train and the sound of the Express awoke again, and the lanterns swelled with light once more. "An enchantment no longer needed," he finished. "A little something that's fairly easy to cook up, after you've got your N.E.W.T's, usually." That last part seemed directly at the blatantly enthralled Hermione, who seemed prepared to steal Professor Lupin's hand for study at the earliest opportunity.

Lupin had yet to sit back down, and in fact made for the door as the train began to prod itself into movement. "I believe the Aurors have concluded their work before we land in Hogsmeade Station. We'll be there shortly - I think it'd be good to check on the rest of the students best I can, I imagine it was a strange experience for most and I'm not sure if all the Aurors were as concise and helpful as Amelia.

Harry personally thought she had been aloof, but he supposed yes, concise and fairly helpful even if not the warmest. Winston gave a soft hoot and Lupin, most oddly, gave him a small salute on the way out. He slid the compartment door gently shut behind him.

"Do you think we'll actually learn something this year then?" Dean asked at large.

"I like him," said Ron, almost challengingly. "He'll be brilliant." Harry couldn't help but smile at him.

"I've got a great feeling about Defence this year."

"Lockhart wasn't great," Ginny said. "Learned a lot about hair products and how to read a novel right, but..."

"At least you didn't have Quirrell," Dean said.

"So much garlic." Neville shuddered. "Couldn't think straight."

"Couldn't barely hear him with that stutter, how about?"

It wasn't long at at all after that, that they pulled into the station. The stone-cobbled platform was shiny slick under the lantern light, the forest behind dark and hungry. Getting out unscathed from the masses was an affair, and Professor Lupin had not returned to claim his little, beaten luggage. Hermione fretted, and nearly made to take it with but Ron convinced her that he might think it stolen. It was best to let Professor Lupin do what Professor Lupin wished to do. After the train ride, Winston the great grey owl seemed pleased to stretch his wings - he circled above the wriggling student body before taking off directly for the lake and castle across.

"I suppose we're within the wards now, he'll find his way." She said it, but still Hermione watched her bird vanish with worry written in her bitten lip and clenching fist. Scabbers awoke momentarily to peak out of Ron's robe pocket and hunker back down. Harry watched the movement carefully, and felt old, familiar anger swell. But he also remembered the man's own hand choking him to death after helping Harry escape. It was, disturbingly enough, a mild soother. Ron gripped his shoulder for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw.

They managed, just like everyone else, to move with the general throng in the direction of the carriage path. They heard the familiar accented tones of Hagrid calling for the first years, fading further and further as he moved them towards the boats.

The thestrals were as gaunt and chilling a sight as ever; their black, leathery skin was gripping tight to sharp, protruding bones. What might've been slightly worse a sight at that moment, if you were to ask Ron Weasley, was the grimacing Professor Snape standing at the head of the students, at the start of the carriages.

"What the hell is he doing?"

He wasn't the only one disturbed.

"Since when do Professors take the carriages?"

"Snape?"

"Shouldn't he be up at the school?"

"Don't make even eye contact, Harry," - this advice was from Seamus - " don't tempt him to take points before the Feast's even started."

The Professor had his wand raised and seemed to be waving forward the crowd in increments, which slowed the pace considerably, but didn't do much else.

"They must be really worried about Black," Hermione said pointedly. "Harry - "

"I mean, could be worse," he said evenly. "They could've brought dementors."

"Dementors?" A older boy with a strong jaw who must've been listening in, balked nearby. "Why on earth would they bring dementors to Hogwarts? Just because he might be out for you? On the chance that he can even get into the castle - we've got Dumbledore and Flitwick's a duellist and hell, even Snape could whip him up real good. Have you seen Black's picture? He looks half dead already!"

"Yeah, that would be pretty crazy," said Ron. "Just imagine."

"Imagine," Harry echoed.

"I would hope that the Ministry of Magic wouldn't send monsters that eat souls to a school."

"If only everyone were as sensible as you, Hermione, it'd be a simple world."

Snape was getting closer- well, they were getting closer to Snape. The students that had passed him were now splitting off to get a carriage or waiting on friends, milling about in-between the rows. Snape saw them approaching, more aptly he saw Harry Potter approaching, and his face grew even more tired and sour (if such a thing were possible). Like a godsend, Professor Lupin emerged from the forest to the far left and made a straight beeline for the Professor, in front of the slow-moving student body. He had his ratty trunk following behind him like a strange pet, stopping to tap the ground occasionally or turn this way and that.

Snape's entire body language shifted; his reaction to Harry was nothing comparatively. They weren't close enough yet to quite hear the exchange of words but Snape must've been near hissing levels of defensive.

Lupin on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease. He was rolling back on his soles, hands in his pockets. He had a slightly lazy grin on his face, that made him look inviting despite the prominent and wretched scars. With a final gentle shrug and a slight dip of the head, Remus strode away from Snape into the forest once more. Snape watched him go with almost eerie focus, nearly vibrating with rage. Or maybe Harry was seeing it more clearly than others who didn't know... the entirety of their storied past.

It was maybe because of this distraction in Snape's anger that they managed to pass him by with minimal damage.

"How fortunate," he said. "That you survived not only a trip into an apothecary, but your train ride unscathed. With your habits I'd have thought you'd hijack, perhaps, a flying motorcycle this year... or have been eaten by a beast in the shop."

"If only you'd be so lucky, sir." Harry smiled winningly. The way the Professor's nose twitched was the only indication he heard, and he impatiently waved them on while his eyes subconsciously seemed to drift back to where Lupin had vanished into the wood.

"Harry that was rude," Hermione said.

"I implied something true, and besides I don't think the good Professor even heard proper."

"Harry meant well," Ron tried to come to his defence. "Unfortunately." Half-heartedly.

"He didn't seem to like Professor Lupin," Hermione said thoughtfully. Neville shook his head. That might've indicated agreement or not, but no one asked.

Finding a free carriage was quick. "Oh - right - Dean you're off with Seamus?"

"Yeah we're going to ride with Gervin and Entwhistle."

"See you at the Feast," Ron waved. Ginny had hovered awkwardly when they arrived, and ended up sticking with her brother instead of finding her teammates again. Due to the events of her first year... she didn't really know much of anyone. Well, she knew Colin Creevey. Colin was just so infectiously social it was hard not to know him. She knew Luna because they were neighbours but they were never particularly close, and they were in different Houses.

It was so strange to think that Ginny had just woken up in the chamber a few months ago. For Harry, it's been years. The strange pressure in his chest came again, and he rubbed at it until he could ignore it again.

Once they'd gotten their trunks on the back of the carriage and piled in, Ginny distracted herself in an argument with her brother over the Holyhead Harpies. Ron was heartily in it, and Harry felt calm watching. This was what they came for - it was right here in moments like this. So they didn't have a flawless plot and it was rushed and botched and sudden, but look at all the wonderful people alive.

Alive.

On the other end, Hermione and Neville were talking about the fire-hand of Professor Lupin's. It was mostly Hermione theorising aloud after Neville mistakenly commented about gardening enchantments for fire-plants. He was now nodding at intervals, wide-eyed. Just doing his best.

When the last of the students had passed under Snape's nose, it seemed they were a little slow to pack into the carriages. The impatient man was waving the doors shut here and there, with a snap of his wand - giving helpful shoves to students in his way. Gracefully, of course, but still.

Harry had forgotten in the wake of the man's death and having, well, watched it happen, that Severus Snape was a hard, hard nut to crack.

At that exact moment, with much more patience and gentile behaviour, he was trying to herd a pack of Slytherins into a carriage two rows over. In the middle was a familiarly blond head. It was bobbing this way and that, but the dour Professor was not having it. From the way his hands were thrown out he was close to losing his patience. But that was also just Snape, a very, very impatient man - even for Lucius Malfoy's son.

Harry nudged Ron out of his argument, who leaned past him to see out the window better. He too, saw Malfoy and his craning neck, and snorted.

"He's looking for us, how much you want to bet," said Harry.

"Ha! No bet," Ron said. "I haven't got money to lose- and doesn't Malfoy love that." He considered for a moment. "It's a bit unhealthy isn't it?"

"What?"

"He's a bit obsessed, isn't he?"

"Oh, Ron! Maybe he's in love with you," said Ginny, with the best poker face Harry'd ever seen.

"I hate you," Ron said plainly. "Sometimes I really do."

The charmed flight was fast, and the view spectacular. And yet swooping down in front of the grand turrets, dizzying towers, and enormous lake spilling out beneath was nothing compared to the sensation of knowing this Hogwarts was untouched. It was nothing like knowing the wards remained in place, the suits of armour at rest.

"Glad to be back," Ron said. "It just looks extra brilliant this year."

"That it does."

"It always looks magical," said Neville.

The experience of entering through the double doors into the Great Hall... that was like being born again. The expansive skies that glittered above the ever-burning candles, the High Table at the far end... and it was full. Snape and Lupin had gotten here before they did, and Hagrid was sitting up there too! The first years must be with Professor McGonagall.

They poured in and the Hall filled quick, with chatter and life, but Harry was distracted as he got seated by the High Table most of all. It was captivating.

Harry saw Professor Sprout smiling at Neville before he ducked his chin down and she returned to her chitchat. Beside her was Professor Sinistra, and she was drinking deeply from her goblet, talking excitedly with an equally merry, although much shorter man - he might've taught Muggle Studies. Next to them was a normal-sized, white-haired man who only had one eye, one arm, and an enormous moustache that curled at the ends, and past Kettleburn was the largest man Harry had ever seen- and he wasn't entirely man, he was brilliant Hagrid, the most fantastic half-giant. Harry was ever so glad to see these characters again, and wondered with warmth what they were talking about with such excited, arm-flapping, air-clawing gestures.

Professor Hooch was sitting next to the excited duo, with close-cropped grey hair and a pointed chin, appearing to be disapprovingly chewing on her pipe during their conversation. Every now and then, seemingly whenever someone made a particularly wild gesture, she frowned and puffed out a cloud of sparkly white smoke.

Looking along the High Table, Harry felt like it was the culmination of the Great Hall - a kaleidoscope of all the best colours in the world.

And especially today, the Welcome Feat, as the staff of Hogwarts seemed to all be dressed in their very best robes and hats. So, underneath the shifting night sky and floating candles of the Great Hall, they looked even brighter and more wonderful.

Although, of course, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore in the middle of the High Table outdid them all by leagues— in his resplendent golden robes that were covered in gleaming fiery birds, with his golden half-moon glasses and ruby red earrings, and his tall hat with such long scarlet feathers. He made his own wizardly Chocolate Frog card look dull by comparison.

He was smiling broadly at Professor McGonagall, who wore her yearly tradition - her crushed velvet emerald-green robes and wide-brimmed hat - and was coming down the aisle, a long set of two lines of first years.

Harry had never noticed that Professor Snape looked so much younger than the rest - he'd always been so distracted by the man's air of malice. But he was, with his pale skin, striking nose, and long black hair, a perfect image of a sullen young man among the others. His hair was as shiny as the many silver fastenings on his dark robes, gleaming the candlelight, and when he meet Harry's gaze it was with a look of casual disdain. He was saving the venomous looks of hatred for Professor Lupin, two seats down, chatting amicably with Professor Vector.

Lupin's illness and shabby robes - nothing wrong with that of course - did clearly age him, now Harry could see. He looked older than Snape, more tired, and it felt deeply unfair. But as pleasant as this all was, and fascinating to see, the oddest thing at the High Table was the robust presence of the very personable Horace Slughorn, sat to the direct left of the Headmaster.

That would need explanation, and hopefully Dumbledore's customary speech would cover it. Lupin was here... he was here - there was no need for a Potions Master, or a Defence Professor.

Harry clocked into Dean and Neville's conversation once he'd finished cataloguing the Head Table.

"No I heard, I did. My mum works in the Creatures department. How'd your Gran hear?"

"She knows everything," Neville said miserably. "She really does. And she's never liked the Irish- no offence Seamus- "

"None taken," he waved him on.

"So she thought it was terribly... funny. That they must've done it to themselves..."

"Six people died," said Dean. "And it was the Wampus' fault, no one else's." Seamus made a funny noise at that.

"Well, that's my Gran." Neville sighed.

"My mum said it's Fudge's fault. Said it's a good name for 'im, cause he fudges plenty up. He shouldn'ta fought the ICW."

"What do you know about the ICW?" Dean said.

"I read the Prophet!" Seamus blustered.

Harry was lost. "What's what?"

"Ah," Ron joined in. "Well, remember the kappa? Turns out St. Catchpole's not the only place with a creature problem. Foreign beasts cropping up where they shouldn't be. People are getting a bit shifty about it because, well... the timing's odd. I have to say, I get it. Fudge sort of... fought on this trade agreement... I dunno exactly what it's about. And now, stuff keeps happening. It's getting a lot of, er, " Ron gestured rudely. " Skeeter coverage."

"Ah."

"I would feel shifty too, if my neighbours got half-eaten by a highly intelligent cat that can read minds," Dean said.

"They're more like panthers," argued Seamus.

"This isn't normal, is it?" He said, looking at Ron.

Ron shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think it ever was."

So it hadn't happened in the original third year.

Harry had known Ron had never told any stories of fighting kappas before third year but... this seemed a bit bigger. Ron went on to say,"But it just seems like Ministry policy things. It'll be fine."

"Right. Right, of course." Harry said it, even though he couldn't help frowning.

As they clapped along to the Sorting, Harry felt simultaneously better than he had in ages- to say, he was sitting in the Great Hall at full capacity- and he also felt so much more nervous.

When Harry woke up later, it was due to violent shaking and his heart nearly leapt out of his mouth. He was grasping for his wand at his bedside - its the first night and they're in Hogwarts - what the hell is -

The person connected to the hands that shook him awake, was crying.

Even without glasses he could see that, and even without glasses he knew who.

"Hermione?" He managed to get out, hoarsely. "How did you get... in... here... are you - okay? What time..." He found his glasses on the bedside table, and slid them on. Ron was standing behind her, ensconced in shadow.

He blinked.

Looked between the two.

"Hermione?" He repeated.

She wiped her face viciously but the tears, they kept going.

"If I'd n-never gone back," she finally spoke. His heart was leaping for a different reason now. "Then I couldn't have gone back at all. I'm so sorry, Ron, Harry - "

"Hermione," Harry whispered.

"Oh," she gave a watery laugh. "I've used the Muffling Charm - "

And then she threw herself at him and Ron came closer and it looked like he'd been crying a bit, too. Harry didn't say anything, and when Hermione finally let him go, he still hadn't processed it.

"Seven turns?" He asked stupidly.

She laughed again, healthier this time. "Ron was in the common room still, you'd gone to sleep early. I left after eight to go to McGonagall, remember? So it was tonight - I got the time-turner from McGonagall tonight, Harry - if I've never touched it then I've never existed - so I had to wait... it was so strange, Harry... "

"Then how did Ron and I... before you?"

"I can't remember why," Hermione said. "Can you?"

And Harry couldn't. In fact, he couldn't really remember how they had gotten the time-turner to work like this at all. It was so terribly confusing, and cloudy.

It felt like a strange dream, but then again seeing Hermione -their Hermione- felt like a strange dream that was too good to be true.

"It's really you?" He got out.

She grabbed his wrist tight. "Yes."

He looked at Ron, and he said, "Then we're going to be okay."

"Just maybe," Ron said after swallowing. His voice was hoarse, too.

"Hermione," Harry repeated.

"Yes," she said. "Yes."