*Revised 2/16/18

"Harry! Harry!" and "Oy, Harry!" two very familiar voices called simultaneously.

Harry spun around, searching, and finding a familiar gaggle of red-heads (plus one bushy brown head) making their way towards him through the crowded station platform.

Harry's already huge grin increased exponentially. He was sure his face must be shattering from the width of his mouth, though he hoped he looked nothing like Marge had. He raised his twiggy arm into the air, waving back enthusiastically at the mob.

As they drew closer he shouted over the din, "Hey Ron, Hermione!"

"Oh Harry, we were so worried when we heard- well, Mr. Weasley heard about your aunt and all, and then you didn't come to meet up with us in Diagon! Harry, I'm so glad you're alright! You're not expelled!" Hermione blurted worriedly, throwing her arms around him in a crushing hug and almost knocking him off his feet.

Oww. The hug made his already sore back and ribs feel like they were on fire. He did his best to keep from stiffening up, instead patting Hermione on the back and laughing, "I'm fine, Hermione. I'm fine. The Ministry let me off the hook, but my Aunt and Uncle wouldn't let me come to Diagon until today." He heard a loud hissing noise as Hermione pulled back, coming from a wickerwork basket set on her trunk. "What's that?" he asked warily, motioning towards the basket.

"It's a monster, that thing is," Ron spat angrily, glaring at the basket.

"Don't be silly, Ron. Crookshanks is a wonderful cat, isn't he?" she cooed at the still-spitting basket. "Don't worry, Crookshanks, I'll let you out on the train."

Ron jerked his gaze up to Hermione. "No you won't! What about poor Scabbers, eh?" he yelled, gesturing to a lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation!"

They continued arguing as Mrs. Weasley moved in, bestowing Harry with another painfully crushing hug. "So nice to see you, Harry dear. I hope your summer went well," she said cheerily, though she looked a bit doubtful at the last statement. "Percy's been made Head Boy, you know. I'm ever so proud. Second Head Boy in the family!" He smiled at her and mumbled an affirmative. As she pulled away he saw Mr. Weasley hanging back behind the rest of his family. Harry noticed he looked a bit uneasy. Ginny was lagging behind too, but seeing as she was rather red in the face, Harry assumed she was just embarrassed, after everything that had happened last year.

Percy Weasley strode up next, Head Boy badge glimmering on his chest. He solemnly held out his hand to Harry, who shook it, trying not to laugh. "Harry. How nice to see you," Percy said formally, as if they had never met. "I hope you're well?"

Harry rather felt as if he were being introduced to the mayor. He bit down on his lip to keep from giggling. "Very well, thanks," he replied.

"Harry!" burst Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing flamboyantly before wringing Harry's hand up and down. "Simply splendid to see you, my boy!"

"Ah, yes!" George cut in, seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Marvelous, marvelous. Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled as Harry snorted with suppressed laughter.

"Boys, really," Mrs. Weasley chided, "That's enough now."

Fred spun around as if he had only just seen her, gasping, "Mum!" He seized her hand too, pumping it violently up and down. "How really corking to see you-"

"Enough I said," Mrs. Weasley reprimanded sternly, leveling disapproving looks at the twins, hand placed firmly on her plump hip.

Percy escaped from the throng, nodding back at Harry and bidding him a farewell. He smoothed down his hair and puffed his badged chest out pompously, having caught the eye of a girl with long, curly hair. He strode over, calling, "Penelope!"

George commented exaggeratedly, "Ah, young love!" He and his twin dramatically pretended to swoon, then blew kisses at the couple, who turned away, blushing. Percy's ears looked especially red. Ginny's mirthful eyes met Harry's and she turned her face away, chortling. Harry followed suit.

Mrs. Weasley had turned away for a moment but soon caught on to their antics, bustling over to smack them both upside the head. The twins grabbed their heads simultaneously, protesting irritably to their stern-faced mother. Harry was still laughing; the whole situation was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time.

"Come on," Hermione said urgently. "We've got to find a compartment!"

There were only fifteen minutes left before the Hogwarts Express began her journey. Ron led the way down the train until they came to a mostly-empty compartment. They hurriedly hauled their luggage inside, stowing Hedwig and Crookshanks in the overhead rack, before going back out to say goodbye.

Mrs. Weasley kissed her children in turn, then Hermione, and finally Harry. Harry was a bit embarrassed, but also pleased when Mrs. Weasley gave him an extra hug. Or rather, he would've been pleased if it hadn't hurt so much.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him fondly. "Do take care, Harry, dear," she said, eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her gigantic floral handbag, saying, "I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron... No, they're not corned beef... Fred? Where's Fred? Oh, here you are, dear..."

Mr. Weasley chose this moment to draw Harry aside, glancing around nervously. "Over here a moment, Harry," he whispered, nodding to a large pillar.

Harry followed him over, leaving the others behind with Mrs. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley rubbed his hands together anxiously, saying, "There's something I need to tell you before you leave, Harry. It's about Sirius Black - the criminal - you've heard of him?"

Harry nodded. Was Mr. Weasley going to tell him more about this criminal who was after him?

"You see," Mr Weasley took a breath, seeming to choose his words carefully, "you must keep yourself safe this year. Those... adventures you've had the past few years, you've been lucky. But Black is a murderer –killed twelve Muggles and a wizard in the middle of a crowded street –and though there are some who think you're too young to know... he will be trying to get to you this year." He looked at Harry nervously, assessing his reaction.

Harry knew he should feel scared, but he just wasn't. Not after everything. "Why is he after me, Mr. Weasley?" he asked curiously.

Mr. Weasley glanced around again, leaning in closely to half-whisper, "Black was in with You-Know-Who back in the day, Harry. Some say he was You-Know-Who's right-hand man. When he was defeated- well, let's just say that he would do anything to bring back those days. You understand, Harry? He's already escaped Azkaban, which was supposed to be impossible. There's no telling what he may do. The guards said he'd been muttering in his sleep, 'He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts.' You must keep yourself safe this year, Harry," he grabbed Harry's shoulder, "Black will do anything to kill you. I don't mean to frighten you, but you must understand." Mr. Weasley was looking more and more tense by the second, pleading with Harry.

"I understand, Mr. Weasley," Harry said solemnly, "but I'm not scared. I mean, he can't be any worse than Voldemort, can he?

Mr. Weasley flinched violently at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, but passed it off.

"Harry, I'm pleased you're not scared- I always knew you were made of stronger stuff than Fudge thinks, but I need you to promise-" he was cut off as Mrs. Weasley spotted them behind the pillar.

"Arthur!" she yelled, "What are you doing over there? The train's about to leave!" She began herding her remaining brood onto the train.

"Promise that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" Harry asked, trying not to sulk.

"Not exactly," Mr. Weasley said, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him before. "I need you to swear to me that you won't go looking for Black."

Harry furrowed his brow, confused. "Why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?" he asked incredulously.

"Harry, promise me, that whatever you might hear, you won't go looking for him. This is very important." Mr. Weasley said hurriedly.

A loud whistle sounded guards walking up and down along the train, slamming all the compartment doors shut.

"Arthur, quickly!" Mrs. Weasley shouted exasperatedly.

Harry made to move towards the train, but Mr. Weasley's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Promise me, Harry!" he cried desperately.

Steam began to billow heavily from the train as it screeched into movement. Harry pulled away from Mr. Weasley's hand, running to the compartment door as Ron threw it open for him. They leaned out the window, waving at a worried-looking Mr. Weasley and an irritated Mrs. Weasley until they rounded a bend that blocked them from sight. What reason did Mr. Weasley know that would make Harry want to seek out a wanted murderer?

Harry took his friends aside in the half-full compartment. "I need to talk to you guys. Privately," he added.

"Go away Ginny," Ron demanded.

Ginny huffed, saying, "Oh, that's nice," and stalked off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off along the corridor with their luggage, searching for an empty compartment. Unfortunately all seemed to be full, until they reached the one at the very back of the train. This compartment held only a single man next to the window, who seemed to be fast asleep. As the Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students, they had never seen an adult there before, aside from the witch who pushed the food trolley.

The strange man was wearing an extremely shabby pair of brown wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted, dark bags pronounced beneath his eyes and face pallid. He seemed young, though his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

The trio slid into the compartment, taking seats furthest from the window.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed loudly, sliding the door shut.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered at once, whispering much more quietly than Ron.

"How d'you know that?" Ron asked her incredulously. "How is it that she always knows everything?" he directed at Harry.

"It's on his case," Hermione huffed, pointing at a small, battered suitcase held together with generous portions of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling gold letters.

"Wonder what he teaches," Ron mused, frowning at Professor Lupin's sickly profile.

"That's obvious," Hermione whispered, "Defense Against the Dark Arts, it's the only vacancy."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two different Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in two years. There were rumors that the position was jinxed.

"Hope he's up to it," Ron said doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." He turned to face Harry. "What were you going to tell us?"

Harry explained about Mr. Hankins the Ministry man, leaving out his Gringotts adventure (he still needed time to process that himself), then led into Mr. Weasley's desperate warning. When he finished Ron looked stunned and Hermione had her hands over her mouth, tears swimming in her eyes. She turned away until she composed herself before saying, horrified, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry... you'll have to be really, really careful this year. Don't go looking for trouble-"

"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry interrupted, peeved, "It goes looking for me."

"How thick would you have to be, to go looking for a nutter trying to kill you?" Ron asked shakily.

They were taking the news much worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened than he was. It's not as if Black was any worse than Voldemort, and in his memory they had faced him twice- no, thrice, if you counted that time in the Forbidden Forest (and Harry did) -already. Or rather, Harry had. Now that he thought back on it, Ron and Hermione had never come face-to-face with the evil megalomaniac: it had always been Harry alone, or with Draco. He sneered inwardly, remembering the prat's cowardice.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before, and he was a top-security prisoner, too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione asked hopefully. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking for him too..." She looked up at Harry suddenly. "By the way... did you get contacts?"

Ron looked puzzled, obviously not having heard of the muggle invention.

Harry, caught off guard, stuttered, "Wh- what?"

She answered Ron's curious look first. "They're a Muggle form of glasses. It's a lens that you put directly on your eye instead of a frame on your face." Ron looked disgusted, but she turned to Harry again, asking, "So did you get them, Harry? You look good without your glasses." Her eyes widened and she looked down, embarrassed, quickly adding, "Not that you didn't look good... before."

"Err...I don't need them anymore, but thanks Hermione," Harry lied, unconvincingly. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell his friends he had broken them.

Hermione looked suspicious for a moment before Ron burst in, "Wicked. I bet that's loads more convenient."

"Yeah," Harry answered, relieved that Ron seemed to be buying his fib, "it's a lot nicer."

Hermione seemed willing to drop the subject for the moment, as she asked curiously, "About your aunt... you didn't really blow her up, did you?"

"I didn't mean to," Harry said hurriedly as Hermione shot a disapproving look at Ron, who was roaring with laughter. "I just- lost control for a moment."

"It's not funny Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"So am I," Harry replied. "Forget expelled, I was lucky not to be arrested."

"Yeah, well, that's probably because you're the Harry Potter. I bet if I blew up my aunt I'd be hauled off to Azkaban. After my mum murdered me, of course," Ron said sulkily.

Suddenly a faint, tinny-sounding whistle filled the compartment.

"What's that noise?" Ron asked suspiciously.

They all looked around the compartment for the source of the sound.

"I think... it's coming from your trunk, Harry," Hermione said tentatively.

Ron stood up and reached into the luggage rack, feeling around in Harry's trunk before pulling out the Pocket Sneakoscope from between a pair of Harry's robes. It began spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand, glowing a brilliant orange.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" Hermione asked interestedly, standing up and edging towards Ron for a better look.

"Yeah. Mind you, it's a cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" Hermione asked knowingly, raising her eyebrows and giving him a patronizing look.

"No! Well... I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. He's not really up to long journeys... but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?" Ron said, embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope let out a piercing whistle, "or it'll wake him up." He nodded at Professor Lupin, who was thankfully still sleeping, for now.

Ron hurriedly pulled out a particularly horrid, mustard-colored, brown-stained pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, stuffing the Sneakoscope inside to mute the sound, before tossing it back in his trunk and shutting the lid.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," Ron suggested, sitting down. "They sell those sorts of things in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

Harry was overcome by a horrible sinking feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach as he remembered his Hogsmeade form. He hadn't gotten it signed. His shoulders slumped as he realized he wouldn't be able to visit Hogsmeade this year.

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked, eyes brightening in interest. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain-"

"Yeah, think it is," Ron replied offhandedly, cutting Hermione off. "But that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," Ron said dreamily, a far-away look creeping into his eyes as a grin spread across his face, "where they've got everything... Pepper Imps - they make you smoke at the mouth - and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck on in class and look like you're just thinking what to write next-"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place," she pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain-"

"-and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," Ron continued over Hermione, clearly not listening to a word she was saying.

Hermione shot Ron an annoyed look before turning to Harry. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade? It's bound to be fascinating!" she said enthusiastically.

"I'll bet. You'll have to tell me all about it when you get back," Harry said sullenly, crossing his arms and scowling at the floor.

"Wha' d'you mean?" Ron asked, seeming to come down to Earth from his sweet daydreams.

"I can't go. The Dursleys wouldn't sign my form." That was an understatement.

Ron looked flabbergasted, then horrified, as if missing out on candy were the worst thing in the world.

"You're not allowed to go? But- no way! McGonagall or someone will give you permission!"

Harry gave a hollow, sarcastic laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was exceedingly strict. She would never bend the rules for anyone.

Ron perked up suddenly, whispering excitedly, "Or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle-"

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of the castle with Black on the loose-"

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask her to sign," Harry spat bitterly.

"But if we're with him," Ron continued spiritedly, "Black wouldn't dare-"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said shortly. She shook her head, irritated. "Don't be daft. Black's already murdered a bunch of people in the middle of a busy street. Do you really think that two teenagers will stop him from attacking Harry?"

Hermione was fumbling with the straps on Crookshank's basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron shouted, but it was too late. Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees. The lump in Ron's pocket trembled and Ron shoved Crookshanks away angrily.

"Get out of here, monster!" he yelled.

"Ron, don't!" Hermione shouted furiously.

Ron was about to shout back when Professor Lupin stirred. The three froze, tense and watching apprehensively, but he simply turned his head to the window, a soft snoring emanating from his slightly his open mouth, and slept on.

The Hogwarts Express was traveling quickly northward now, the scenery outside the window becoming wilder and darker as the clouds overhead thickened. People dashed to and fro past their compartment door. Harry got a good look at Hermione's new cat, as Crookshanks had settled into an empty seat, face turned toward Ron, eyes locked on Ron's top pocket.

The ginger cat was enormous, with thick, fluffy fur. However, it was a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as if it had run headlong into a brick wall. At the moment it was poised like a viper ready to strike, yellow slit eyes waiting intently for its prey to emerge.

At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at their compartment, asking brusquely, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ron looked over at Professor Lupin, still sleeping, awkwardly.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" he asked, nodding in the Professor's direction. "He looks like he could use some food..."

Hermione got up, tentatively approaching Professor Lupin.

"Er- Professor?" she said cautiously. "Excuse me, Professor!" she tried speaking louder.

He didn't move in the slightest.

"Don't worry, dear," the trolley witch said casually as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

Harry had the sudden revelation that the Hogwarts Express actually had a driver. He had just assumed it functioned by magic, stupidly. Or really, not that stupidly, seeing as most everything else in the magical world seemed to be, well, magical.

"I suppose he is asleep?" Ron asked quietly as the witch shut the compartment door. "I mean - he hasn't died, has he?" he asked anxiously, giving a nervous laugh.

"No, no, he's breathing," Hermione whispered, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry passed her.

He might not have been very good company, but a Professor's presence in their compartment did have its uses. It was midafternoon and had just started to rain, blurring the rolling hills and valleys into a flat plane of abstract green streaks outside their window, when they heard footsteps in the corridor again. The footsteps drew closer and suddenly their three least favorite people – students, Harry corrected himself, there were people lower on the totem pole of un-favoritism than them – appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since their first encounter on the train ride to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, resided in Slytherin House. He played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team, but Harry was much better at it (and didn't cheat like Malfoy). Crabbe and Goyle seemed to only exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscled: Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck, while Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-like arms. Together, Harry mused, they could make up the contents of a small zoo. He imagined a rat, bulldog, and gorilla stuck in a cage, the rat squeaking stupidly at its uncomprehending minions. Or perhaps Aunt Marge trying to train them. He had to work to keep his face straight.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual arrogant drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and Weasel."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

Harry's good mood instantly evaporated, replaced by anger, and he sent a glower Malfoy's way.

Think he's clever, huh? Immature idiot, he thought in irritation.

Malfoy turned to Ron, saying mockingly, "I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley. Did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up so quickly he upended Crookshank's basket, which fell to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a loud snort.

"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, surprised, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet as well, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What was that you were saying, Malfoy?" he asked in mock-politeness.

Malfoy's steely gray eyes narrowed; he wasn't enough of a fool to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose. Unfortunately.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, backing out of the compartment. They turned down the hallway and disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat back down, Ron cracking his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any more crap from Malfoy this year," he said furiously. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his neck and..." He made a violent twisting gesture in midair.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione. "Violence is no way to solve your problems. Plus, you need to be careful." She pointed discreetly over at Professor Lupin.

But the Professor seemed to still be fast asleep.

They each fell into their own thoughts as the train sped yet farther north, rain thickening. The foggy windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until the lanterns flickered magically into life along the corridor and over the luggage racks. The train rattled in the gale, rain pounding an angry tattoo on the glass as the wind roared with the ferocity of a lion, occasional eerie whistles sounding as it brushed the train. Somehow, Professor Lupin still slept on with all the noise surrounding him.

"We must be nearly there," Ron said suddenly, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the inky black window.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the train started to slow.

"Great," Ron said enthusiastically, getting up and walking past Professor Lupin to try to see outside. He pressed close to the window, squeakily rubbing a hole in the fog with his sleeve, and peered out. "I'm starving, I can't wait to get to the feast!"

"We can't be there yet," Hermione said confusedly, furrowing her brows as she checked her watch.

"So why're we stopping?" Ron asked, tilting his head slightly as he turned away from the window.

The train continued getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons disappeared, the howling wind and beating rain sounded louder and eerier than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up, opened the compartment door, and peered into the corridor. Many curious heads poked their way out of other doors along the train, exchanging confused looks.

The train came to a sudden halt, nearly throwing Harry to the ground. Distant thuds and bangs signaled that luggage had fallen out of the racks in other compartments. Then, without warning, the lights all flickered out, then back on, then off again, leaving the train shrouded in complete darkness. A few startled screams echoed down the corridor as Harry ducked back into the compartment.

"What's going on?" Ron asked nervously from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"

Harry felt his way back to his seat, listening intently. He was used to darkness from all the time spent in his cupboard at the Dursleys, sneaking out at night to snatch a bit of food from the kitchen, and of course sneaking around Hogwarts.

"D'you think we've broken down? We might be late for the feast..." Ron said with disappointment.

"Dunno..." Harry replied softly, straining his ears for the slightest sounds, of which there were many. None seemed unusual though, just distant voices, thumps, the sounds of feet.

There was another squeaking sound as Ron wiped off the window again. Harry saw his dim outline peering out into the night.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said interestedly. "I think people are coming aboard."

The compartment door suddenly slid open, someone falling in and painfully coming to rest on Harry's legs.

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch- sorry-" a familiar quavering voice said.

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark until he caught hold of Neville's cloak, pulling him up.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?" Neville asked worriedly.

"No idea- sit down..." he replied as Neville shifted.

There was a loud, angry hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's determined voice. Harry felt an eddy of air stir as she passed him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?" Hermione asked.

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron-"

"Come in and sit down-"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly as he felt them moving. "I'm here!"

"Oww!" Neville shouted.

"Quiet!" a hoarse voice whispered urgently.

Professor Lupin seemed to have woken up at last. Harry could hear soft movements from his corner. None of them spoke, the sounds of their breathing filling the quiet compartment.

There was a soft muttering, then a slight crackling noise, and a dancing yellow light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They cast his tired, gray face into stark relief, but his eyes looked alert and wary. Harry felt stupid for not thinking of using magic to create a light earlier, and briefly wondered why Professor Lupin didn't just cast lumos.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same raspy voice, slowly getting to his feet, his handful of fire held out defensively in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it, a draft of freezing air seeming to permeate the room.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Professor Lupin's hand, was a black-cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward and what he saw made his stomach clench. There was a grayish hand protruding from the cloak, glistening as if coated with a thick slime, and scabbed, like it was from someone who had died and decayed in water.

But it was only visible for a moment, swiftly withdrawn into the folds of the creature's cloak, like the thing had sensed Harry's gaze. From within the creature's hood came a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from the room...

And then a wave of intense cold swept over them all, much stronger than the previous draft. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, as if a vicious being were clawing its way through his heart, leaving an icy black hole in its wake. The cold was much deeper than the skin, permeating into his very bones with a fierce, aching emptiness.

Harry struggled against the invisible force pinning him down, stopping his breath. His eyes rolled up in his head. He couldn't see! He couldn't breathe! He was drowning in the cold abyss. There was a rushing in his ears, his heart beating much too fast, and yet much too slow. He was being dragged downward. The roaring grew louder-

He found himself huddled on the floor, knees drawn up in a fetal position, arms protecting his head, back against the wall. He looked up, shakily uncurling himself, to find a group of worried faces staring back at him. The lanterns flickered above as the floor shook – the Hogwarts Express was up and running again. He seemed to have passed out on the floor or something. Ron and Hermione were kneeling nearby and above them he could see Professor Lupin and Neville watching. He felt very ill. He raised a shaking hand to his forehead, feeling the cold clamminess of his skin as he swiped at the beads of sweat there.

"Harry...are you alright, mate?" Ron asked, fear flickering in his eyes.

"Yeah... I think so," Harry replied, struggling to stand up, eyes flicking to the door, now mercifully monster-free.

Hermione and Ron helped him back to his seat.

"What happened? Where's that- that thing?" Harry asked.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously, everyone's pale faces still turned towards him.

"I'm fine, Hermione. What happened?" Harry persisted.

"Well..." Hermione trailed off, for once seeming to be at a loss of what to say.

"You were screaming," Ron said nervously, always the master of subtlety.

"I- what?" Harry sputtered.

Everyone jumped as a loud snap resonated in the silent compartment. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said, holding out a particularly large piece to Harry. "Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate, but didn't eat it.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Well..." Hermione tried again.

"That was a dementor," Professor Lupin said, now passing out chocolate to everyone else. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him wide-eyed. Professor Lupin casually crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with the driver..."

He brushed past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"You're sure you're all right, Harry?" Hermione asked again anxiously, worry shining in her deep brown eyes.

"I said I'm fine, Hermione. Now would someone tell me what happened?" he asked, exasperated, wiping cold sweat off his face once more.

"Well- that thing – the dementor – stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) and you- you-" she didn't seem to know how to continue.

"You sort of went rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching-" Ron cut off, still looking scared. "I thought you were having a fit or something."

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," Hermione continued, seeming to regain her speech, "and he said 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor came closer, so Lupin muttered something and a glowing silvery thing burst out of his wand at it, and it didn't seem to like that and sort of glided away..."

"And then you woke up, and s- started screaming. It sounded like you were being murdered!" Ron said fearfully, voice shaking. "And you backed right into the corner and wouldn't let anyone near you without going nuts..."

"It was horrible," Neville said, shuddering, his voice higher than normal. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..." He hugged his arms to his body.

Ginny, who was huddled in the corner, looking pale and dreadful, gave a small, hiccupping sob. She looked about as bad as Harry felt. Hermione scooted over and gave her a comforting hug before settling in beside her, arm laid protectively across her shoulders.

"Didn't any of you... uh, fall off your seats?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"No," Ron answered, looking worriedly at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking terribly, though..."

Harry still didn't understand what had happened. His muscles felt like limp noodles, his skin still clammy, nauseous and faint. He shivered slightly, feeling as if he was recovering from a particularly bad flu. As a bonus, his pain from earlier was back, and worse. He quickly blocked out the pain before it could overwhelm him, but he couldn't block out his emotions. He was frightened, yes, but not overly so. After all, one can't face the darkest wizard that ever lived without overcoming some sense of fear. No, he was ashamed. Why had he fallen apart, having some sort of fit, when everyone else was fine?

Lupin reentered the compartment at that moment. He paused at the doorway, giving a small smile as he looked around. "I haven't poisoned the chocolate, you know," he said teasingly.

Harry tentatively took a nibble, not knowing how his stomach would handle it, and was surprised and pleased to find warmth spreading through his body from his head to his toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Professor Lupin announced, looking carefully at Ginny, then Harry. "Are you alright, Harry?" he asked kindly.

He must've given everyone a fright with his... fit. He didn't bother to ask how Lupin knew his name: everyone knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, flushing with embarrassment. To have passed out and went nuts in front of everyone!

There wasn't much talk for the rest of the ride, aside from Hermione whispering gently soothing words to Ginny, who was still having trouble holding back her tears. Harry stared into space, flickering thoughts and memories dancing just out of his reach. Every time he verged on remembering what had happened with the dementor, he caught a glimpse of something before it was snatched away into the recesses of his mind, forgotten.

At last, the train came to a much gentler stop at Hogsmeade station. Everyone scrambled to get off, a huge jumble of people, luggage, and animals dashing about the tiny platform. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his pointed hat. It was freezing on the platform, the rain driving down in icy sheets, though it was nothing compared to the dementor earlier.

"Firs' years, this way!" a familiar, booming voice called out above the din. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned, seeing the gigantic, wavering outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking (even more so than normal) first years forward to the fleet of boats that would take them on the traditional journey across the lake. Harry was glad the weather had been partial to his first journey to Hogwarts, not envying the new students one bit.

Hagrid caught sight of them, yelling, "All righ', you three?" over the sea of heads and hats. They waved at him but had no chance to talk – the mass of students swept them away down the platform, shoving and pushing as they went. The trio gave up on Hagrid, succumbing to the tide of bodies shunting them along the platform and onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited them. Harry could only assume that each was pulled by an invisible horse (or magic, more likely), because when they climbed inside and shut the door the coach set off by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

Hermione and Ron kept shooting him looks when they thought he couldn't see, as if he might suddenly break down again. The faint smell of mold and straw in the old-fashioned coach was a bit unpleasant, but Harry felt much better since the chocolate, though still weak and wobbly.

The carriage trundled up a hill toward an enormous pair of elegant, wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with magnificent winged boars. As they drew closer Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors standing guard on either side of the gates. A wave of cold sickness washed over him again, threatening to drag him under, and he leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes until they had passed by. The carriage picked up speed once past the gates, wobbling even more up the long, sloping drive to the castle. Hermione was leaning out the tiny window, studying the many turrets, towers, and candle-lit windows of the ancient castle as they drew nearer. Eventually they reached the foot of the castle, the carriage swaying to a halt. Hermione and Ron got out, Harry making to follow.

As Harry stepped down gingerly, an amused, drawling voice reached his ear.

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

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione eagerly, blocking Harry's way up the stone steps of the castle, his face filled with delighted mirth as pale eyes glittered maliciously.

Ron stepped up beside Harry supportively as he replied through clenched teeth, "Shove off, Malfoy."

Malfoy clapped his hands slowly, mockingly. "So it's true, then! The great potty Potter sent cowering by a mean old dementor," he drawled with feigned compassion. "Poor, poor Potter."

As if he wasn't scared at all, the damn liar, he thought angrily.

"Still scared that the dementors are going to get you, Potter? I hope they do, and your filthy friends too," he sneered.

Ron started forward towards Malfoy but Harry pulled him back, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked. Professor Lupin had just exited his carriage, walking towards them.

Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent, haughty stare, taking in the patches on his frayed robes and dilapidated suitcase. With just the barest hint of scorn in his voice, he replied, "Oh no- er, Professor." He then smirked at Crabbe and Goyle, turning on his heel and strutting up the steps into the castle.

However, just before he reached the top his foot slid on the slick stone, sending him crashing down on his bottom, soaking his robes. Malfoy immediately jumped up again, looking around embarrassedly as students giggled at him, cheeks tinted a light pink. He rushed up the remaining steps and disappeared inside, brushing off the assistance offered by Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry laughed, the action shaking off the last chill of the dementors. This year hadn't gotten off to the best start, but Hogwarts was his home. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. That's what magic was for, right?