Chapter Four: The Ostracized Oak
Almost before Mungo knew it, which was, sadly, fairly long afterwards, they had their bags out on the pavement outside the Leaky Cauldron, sweaty from the exertion of pulling them down the stairs, and dreading packing them into a single car compartment. The compromise was that Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan had to ride to the station in the Gorssons' car, and the Abendroths had to take the luggage in the back seat and hope it didn't fall out through the floor due to its sheer weight and the frailty of the vehicle.
Mungo, Duncan, and Penoria soon forgot about the imminent peril of their luggage, and were chatting animatedly, giving various bits and pieces of advice to Penoria about Hogwarts. They reached the station after an hour of blissfully ignored Muggle traffic (the children ignored the traffic, Mr. Gorsson was constantly cursing it.) They clambered out of the car and got trolleys to carry their luggage on. They had to wait for quite a bit, as the Abendroths' car got stuck in the traffic worse than the Gorssons' had, due to their understanding of and obedience to Muggle traffic laws.
When the car finally arrived, they unloaded their entire luggage onto the trolleys, and headed inside the station.
It was nearing 10:45, and Mungo was getting fretful. He quickly headed for the barrier between two stations and ran at it, not waiting for instructions or a plan.
He was going full tilt at the barrier, only thinking of getting through, when he rammed into it with a horrible, deafening crash. The trolley tilted over, and his suitcase skidded off and hit a lamp post with a discordant clang.
"Oh no, it's sealed itself!" Mungo said, climbing up frantically and slapping it. Strong hands pulled him away, and Mungo saw Mr. Gorsson.
"Mungo, that's the wrong barrier. That's between platforms 8 and 9." Mr. Gorsson explained, setting the trolley right and putting the luggage back on.
Mungo, needless to say, felt extremely stupid.
After dispersing the concerned and angry Muggles ("It's all right, the wheels of this trolley are really wobbly. The lad lost control." "Fiddlesticks. Of course he's not daft.") they proceeded cautiously through the correct barrier, Mungo's face still red. Mungo went last this time, as if everyone else wanted to make sure it was the right barrier before they trusted Mungo with it.
When they got through, it was even more crowded than Mungo remembered it being last year. Students and parents alike were jostling to get onto the train, the parents to help their children with their luggage and say good-bye.
Mungo, Duncan, and Penoria decided it would be easier to say their goodbyes on the platform, the better to penetrate the masses. Mungo and Penoria hugged Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson, and shook hands with the Abendroths.
"You have a good term, Mungo. And keep an eye on Duncan." Mr. Abendroth said to Mungo.
"Why? He's never done anything wrong-" Mungo started.
"I mean, make sure he gets out of the library for a bite or two every once and a while, okay?" Mr. Abendroth said, smiling.
Duncan rolled his eyes and dragged Mungo by the sleeve to the train, the luggage trailing awkwardly. Penoria followed afterwards, easily following in the wake of Mungo's erratically swinging trunk.
Heaving their suitcases on board, Mungo, Penoria, and Duncan pushed their way to a compartment near the front of the train, which only had a sleeping, black-haired first year boy. They stowed their trunks as quietly as they could manage, and sat down around him. Uncomfortably.
Mungo looked outside the window, and saw that the train had already started moving, the platform sliding by. A rather plump, red-haired woman started running along the train, holding something grey in her hands, and passing it up to a window. Mungo promptly ignored it.
Thus they sat, not daring to talk for fear of awaking the newcomer to Hogwarts. The countryside rolled by silently, and still he slept. After the trolley lady came and went, they eventually decided that they could probably talk comfortably. If an eleven-year-old boy didn't wake up at the sign of sweets, he wouldn't mind a small bit of conversation.
Mungo leaned forward, away from the boy.
"Well, this was aboot t' seem like the quietest trip to Hogwarts I've ever been on, at any rate." He said in a quiet voice.
Duncan nodded, and said,
"I hear you. This chap can sleep through a lot, can't he?"
Conversation collapsed for a moment. Then, with a sudden clarity of mind, Mungo remembered what he had heard in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Duncan! I've just remembered something. Ye recall tha' Harry Potter was stayin' at th' Leaky Cauldron with us?" He said, rather more loudly than he wished, but ignoring it due to his eagerness.
"Yes," Duncan agreed noncommittally. Harry Potter was not a subject that greatly excited either of them, except for the You-Know-Who part. Celebrities are all fine and good, but when you live near them in school for a year the starshine begins to wear off.
"Well, I heard him talkin' t' a man, might ha' been Weasley's father, and Mr. Weasley warned Harry noot t' go lookin' fer Sirius Black. An' then Harry asked why would he wan' t' goo lookin' fer someone who wanted t' kill him. Apparently, Harry thinks that Black is after him, but why?"
Penoria came up with an answer right away.
"Dad has a friend who's in the Ministry, a magical law enforcement officer, or something. Anyway, I heard them talking, and Dad's friend said that Sirius Black was a big supporter of You-Know-Who, like second in command. After Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, it seems that Sirius Black felt that if Harry was dead, then You-Know-Who might just come back. So that's probably what Potter and Mr. Weasley were talking about."
"But, as Potter so aptly put it, why would he want to go looking for someone who wanted to kill him?" Duncan asked.
"I dunno. Maybe Mr. Weasley thought tha' Potter had some kind o' hero complex, an' tha' he wanted t' goo after Black himself." Mungo said.
"Pfft. Potter's not stupid. Black's killed thirteen fully grown people, a thirteen-year-old wizard's not going to be much of an obstacle." Duncan scoffed.
The train very suddenly lurched, as if it was stopping. Mungo swiftly looked outside, looking for the platform he had been wanting to see all summer. However, the scene outside wasn't there; the train was in the middle of a bridge over a valley. It was getting dark, and rain was beginning to fall.
"We're noot there yet, why's the train stopped?" Mungo placed his hand on the window, to support himself to see higher.
Mungo squinted, and saw faint black figures swiftly flying towards the train. Mungo watched a while longer, and saw that they weren't riding broomsticks. He gasped in realization, and quickly withdrew his hand from the pane of glass. He frantically took hold of the thin curtains by the window and slid them closed
"There're dementors approaching the train!" Mungo whispered. He drew his wand out of his sheath, and started feeling in his pockets.
"What! Dementors? I thought they only lived in Azkaban!" Penoria said, leaping for the window too. She accidentally knocked the first year with her knee, and he woke up with a start.
"What's the idea?" He snarled at Penoria.
"Dementors are approaching the train, twit!" She snapped back.
"Get back from the window!" Mungo hissed, pulling Penoria back away. "We wan' this compartmen' t' be empty!"
The lights flickered and died, eerily. Mungo perked his ears, listening for any sound. But there wasn't any noise in the deathly stillness.
"Duncan, latch the door!" Mungo whispered. Duncan turned pale, and withdrew his wand from a pocket. He crept to the door, and poked his head outside along the corridor. He gasped and hurriedly shut the compartment door, fumbling with the lock.
"They're right outside! In the corridor!" He whispered frantically, pouncing back onto the seat.
Mungo nodded, and found what he had been looking for in his pockets. They were some potions that sparkled with a reddish light.
"Smash these on the floor if they get in, and shield yer eyes. They're jest light potions, but it migh' deter them a bit, spook them off."
"Light potions? Spook dementors?" the first year asked incredulously.
"Aye, made from Clabbert postules. Emits a blinding-"
"Hush!" Duncan said, watching the door. A tall, dark figure could be seen through the clouded pane of glass, and it paused. Mungo began to feel a cold seeping into his very bones, even though he was tightly wrapped in his school robes. He began feeling depressed, going over sad thoughts in his mind… Mungo shook his head like a worried horse. Then, suddenly, a bright image flashed into his mind: a reptilian head with bloody, ruined eyes. He yelped, and the figure behind the glass reached an arm to the handle.
Duncan roared something incomprehensible, and threw himself at the catch, fighting with the figure for control of the door. His arms strained, and the cold lessened subtly. Again, the bloody eyes of the basilisk appeared in Mungo's mind, and the first year was whimpering.
Suddenly, it appeared that Duncan won against the dementor, for the figure released the handle and floated away towards the back of the train. The deathly cold began to fade, and at last had completely vanished. Everyone breathed a gasp of relief, and soon the lights relit and the train was moving. However, everyone was speechless, stunned by the encounter. Mungo stared blankly at the door, Penoria fidgeted, and the first year was still shivering. Duncan was the only one showing any animation, digging in his luggage for something. In an instant he found it, a grey-covered book, and started flipping through it.
"Chocolate! Chocolate will make us feel better." Duncan exclaimed a few moments later.
"Always worked for me." Penoria said glumly, picking up a yet unwrapped Chocolate Frog. She unwrapped it unconcernedly, letting the Wizard Card fall to the floor, and took a bite.
"What ho! He's right!" She said immediately, smiling.
Mungo hurriedly got a Chocolate frog as well, and bit into with a relish. Liquid warmth seemed to flow under his skin, allaying all his worries and cold from the dementor attack. He grinned, and started putting his light potions back into his pocket.
After everyone had finished eating their chocolate, they became more animated.
"What was all that about?" Was the first and obvious question, so obvious that I wonder why I even bother writing it. It barely even matters who said it. But for those who care about such details, it was Penoria.
"They might have been searching for Sirius Black here. The papers say that they're using dementors to look for him." Duncan said, still eyeing the doorknob. He kept wringing his hands, as if they were dirty.
"Come off it," the first year said, apparently regaining his confidence. "Why would they think he was going on a train?"
"They don't have eyes, they can't tell that it's a train. All they can feel is a bunch of happy wizards and witches, maybe one or two unhappy ones, and a couple evil gits like Morrigan and Erebus-" Duncan replied.
"My name is Derek Erebus." The first-year growled. "I can only assume the 'evil git' is referring to my brother, Benjamin Erebus."
Mungo and Duncan stared at the first year for a second.
"He's told me loads about Scotty McGorsson and Dumbcan…" He said, beginning to leer.
"I can oonly assume that 'Scotty McGorsson' is no' some kind of Muggle quick food product." Mungo said, mimicking Derek's growling voice.
"Well, I'm not going to spend too much time bothering you 'hard working' Hufflepuffs. I suppose the few Hufflepuff graduates from Hogwarts get Ministry pensions just for feeding themselves." Derek got up hurriedly, seized his trunk, and left before Mungo could collect his outraged nerves to hex the stuffing out of the snotty git.
Duncan smiled.
"It's called fast food." He said to Mungo.
"Well, I suppose gittiness runs in th' family." Mungo said angrily, absentmindedly tearing a Chocolate Frog wrapper with his hands. "I think the odds are favourable that he's gooin' t' Slytherin."
"So they thought Sirius Black was on the train?" Penoria asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Erebus and his family, who Mungo and Duncan were now heavily abusing.
"Apparently." Duncan said. "Or else there was just too many feelings on the train for them to ignore. The alliance with dementors and wizard's are not as tight as some would wish, or as some people in the Ministry want to believe."
They sat discussing the dementors for a while, until a particularly heated discussion about Ministry controls over dementors was cut short by the announcement of the approach of the castle. Mungo and Duncan hurriedly stuffed a few odds and ends into their suitcases and left with the rest of the teeming mass of students. Penoria clutched at Mungo's skinny wrist, not wanting to get separated in the press of children wanting to get out of the train and into the comforting confines of Hogwarts.
Mungo could hear the chattering of the students about the dementor attack. There was talk of someone fainting, but Mungo couldn't catch the name.
They made their way outside, where it was pouring a dreary, dark, depressing rain. Mungo grinned smugly. His prized hat was water-proof, the pouring rain sluicing off it like water on a duck's back.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a deep, hoarse voice called out over the crowd, coming from what looked like a desperately wet bear.
"Go along with him, Penoria, it's all righ' tha's jus' Hagrid." Mungo said, giving her a little encouraging pat.
"Just Hagrid?" Penoria asked skeptically, as if the gameskeeper was too much to be a 'just Hagrid,' but went forward with the other first-years. Mungo saw her squint and stick out her toe out to trip somebody successfully, but Mungo didn't see whom.
Mungo watched for a little while, remembering his own first night at Hogwarts. Then he remembered the other students. He looked around, and saw the last couple students trailing along a path. Mungo ran along after them, and caught them getting into a carriage.
"Oy! Let me in!" Mungo shouted, but the students swiftly closed the door and laughed and made faces at him. Mungo's stomach dropped as he realized that they were none other than Erebus and Morrigan, his worst rivals.
The carriage rattled away, and it was then that Mungo realized that there was nothing driving it. But it didn't matter to Mungo. It wouldn't matter to Mungo if dragons were pulling the carriages. He was now going to have to trudge all the way to the school, in the rain and mud.
Mungo groaned, swore a little under his breath, and drew his wand. He waggled it at some rocks and turned them into green galoshes.
"Tha'll help a wee bit." Mungo growled, slipping them over his shoes.
"Jus' a wee bit further…" Mungo whispered wearily twenty minutes later. His galoshes had torn apart after a treacherous root tripped him, and now Mungo was muddy, cold, and hungry. He could see the castle lights ahead, and by the slowly brightening moonlight Mungo noticed that, for some reason, Hogwarts looked a lot more rugged.
There was also a severely depressed-looking tree on the side of the road. It was hard for Mungo to read emotions from a tree, but this one looked like its sole purpose in life was to show people the utter depths of sorrow there were in the world.
As Mungo passed by, the tree sighed.
"Go on, walk on by, just like all the others." A breezy, rasping voice said. Mungo started and stared at the tree. The bark seemed to have twisted themselves into a tragic face, whose mouth appeared to say the words.
"Every year, year after year, they roll in on their carriages, chatting happily about the exciting school year ahead, and pass me by without even saying 'Oh, Merlin's Beard, what an ugly tree that is.'"
"Ye're a talking tree!" Mungo said, stating the obvious.
"Yes, I can talk. Samuel Goldwater cast a charm on this tree sixty years ago, on the way home, and never cared enough to take it off. But no one cares about me."
Mungo was feeling very uncomfortable. He started edging cautiously up the road.
"Surely someone cares aboot ye," He tried, smiling encouragingly.
"No one does. I have to squeeze what little water I get from the ground, no one pays any attention. When my leaves fall in the autumn, I have to clear them away MYSELF so they don't rot around me. It takes hours just to move one of my twigs, by the time I've cleared away the leaves it's winter and I get the most horrible aches in my left branches, but no one cares…"
The tree's monologue drifted off as Mungo hurriedly pounded off into the distance. There are only so many things one can do in a scything rain, and trying to comfort a tree was too much to ask of Mungo.
Finally, Mungo trudged between the gates between the statues of the winged boars. He could see the grand doors of the entrance hall beckoning him. Mungo gritted his teeth and ran the remaining distance to them, desperate not to be left out any longer.
Mungo reached the doors, and gave them a heartfelt pat. He pulled them open and slid on the slick floor, twisting and landing painfully on his side. He swore, and scrambled back onto his feet. Mungo limped over to the doors of the Great Hall, and slid subtly through the doors. He heard the Sorting Hat's voice shout out "Ravenclaw" as he tried to walk inconspicuously to the Hufflepuff table. He sat down next to Duncan, who immediately started bombarding him with questions.
"Where the devil were you? You look a mess, mate, what happened?" He asked, scooting a bit further along the bench to get away from Mungo's dripping muddiness.
"Shh sh sh! What's this?" Mungo asked, gesturing weakly to the front of the Great Hall. The first years had just been completely Sorted, and a number of other students with extremely fat toads were clustering in front of the Great Hall.
Duncan shook Mungo concernedly.
"That's the Sorting Ceremony, Mungo. You had it last year." Duncan said.
"They're dooin' it in groups now?" Mungo asked sarcastically.
"What? Oh, Dumbledore said something about a special musical treat. I hope it's better than the school song. Did you know he wrote that himself?" Duncan said matter-of-factly.
"I reckon I did." Mungo said, smiling.
The choir started up, singing to Professor Flitwick's energetic arm movements. For a few seconds, Mungo had trouble finding the gist of the song, but then he managed to catch things such as toil and trouble, and cauldron bubble, but he was far too tired to catch any gist of it. The last phrase caught his ear, however:
"Something wicked this way comes!" A toad croaked, (Mungo had great difficulty finding their purpose in the performance, and decided it needed further reflection later) and the girls walked off the stage.
"Something wicked this way comes? That's a nice way to start off the school year." Duncan said cryptically.
"Maybe they were talkin' aboot th' exams." Mungo said. They chuckled a bit to themselves until Dumbledore walked up to a gilt pedestal, flanked by dripping wax candles and carved owls; a new feature. Mungo noticed several things different about Dumbledore this year; his hair was grayer, his voice was stronger, deeper, and had a different accent, and he wore a different hat.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." He began speaking, as the Hall respectfully fell silent at his words. "Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast." First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, professor." He swept his hand graciously towards the staff table at the head of the hall, where a man in dusty, pale green robes, with straw-blonde hair and a thin mustache, bowed briefly. It was his ill-luck to be seated by Professor Severus Snape, who was glaring at him with a wrath that Mungo would flee to Taiwan to be free of.
"Is it jus' me, or does Snape seem t' dislike Professor Lupin more than he disliked Bundimun?" Mungo asked Duncan, referring to Gilderoy Lockhart, a man whose intelligence and force of personality was similar to a small, magical creature that resembled a piece of moss and that bit unwary toes.
"Dislike? I haven't seen a such a look of pure hatred since Mum saw what Emperor Fredrick did to the sofa. I'd watch myself around Snape this year." Duncan answered, as Professor Dumbledore resumed speaking.
"In addition, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid."
Most of the school applauded as the huge man stood up, nearly knocking over the table in his haste, Duncan and Mungo clapping rather half-heartedly. They didn't have his classes, and thus were unaffected by this decision, and they had only met him for a brief detention in which they buried dead roosters. But he had a reputation of being kindly, and friendly to the students, so they wound up applauding him anyway.
"Finally," Dumbledore said gravely after the cheers had died down, "On a more disquieting note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban, until such a time as Sirius Black is captured." The students immediately began whispering fearfully amongst themselves, but Mungo and Duncan paid close attention to what Professor Dumbledore said over the muttering student body.
"The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They'll not distinguish between the one the hunt and the one that gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving."
The school took it hard. Fearful faces looked on one another, and whispers along the lines of "Dementors? Are they mad?" floated around the Great Hall. Dumbledore, seeing this, raised his hands, and silence fell as he spoke more cheerfully.
"But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times," he swept his hand over a candle nearby, and it flickered out. "...if one only remembers to turn on the light!" and he swept it back, and the light re-appeared. At the same time, the tables groaned as they took the burden of the huge feast that suddenly appeared, to feed the famished students.
Mungo dug in with his usual relish, tackling everything in reach and more. For a while, talk was abandoned as he ate steaks, potatoes mashed, fried, boiled, and baked, chicken, and everything else. When the dessert came, his experience with Hogwarts feasts had served him well; he had left enough room for his favourites: Rich, chewy brownies, quivering jellies, and a heaping bowlful of plain vanilla ice cream. At last, the food and plates vanished again, and it was time to go to their dormitories.
Several minutes later, swept along by the tide of other Hufflepuffs, Duncan and Mungo made their way down into the cellars of the castle, and to the statue at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. Exhausted and yawning, the friends went to their old room where they had spent most of last year, which Mungo was (in his exhausted state) surprised to see that the plaque now said 'Second Years.'
They got into their familiar old beds, with their familiar trunks at the end, with the customary hum of all the activities of the castle above. Suddenly, a shrill shriek ran through the entire castle, and a glass of water by Mungo's bed shattered into small pieces.
"Blast tha' Fat Lady, tha's time number one this year." Mungo muttered as he habitually swept the shards off onto the floor behind the nightstand. "Welcome back t' Hogwarts, Duncan," he said as he took off his glasses and hat and laid down to sleep.
"Shut up and go to sleep already!" Duncan grumbled irately. "Between you, the Fat Lady, and the library, it's going to be a wonder if I get any rest at all this term!"
Author's Note: I personally deeply regret the passing away of Richard Harris, the 'old' Dumbledore. He was always what I pictured Dumbledore to be, and I can only say that we miss him.