Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 3- The Dementor
The light is dim in the passageway that I sneak down. I don't remember how I ended up here. The stones beneath my feet radiate coldness as if they were underneath a thick sheet of ice for a long time. My breath comes out as smoke in front of me, and my hands are shaking from the frigid air.
On either side of me there are wrought iron bars covering holes in the wall. Dirty, unwashed, and underfed people reside behind those bars sitting listlessly on the mats on the floor that are supposed to be their beds. Some of the prisoners jeer at me as I pass by. I want to flinch away from them, to turn around and exit the fresh hell that I seem to be in.
I can't though. Its like there is some unseen force that is pulling me further down the dank stone corridor onto a path that I may never be able to get off of. The corridor is ending, and I find myself standing in front of the last cell in the block. It is too dim in order to clearly see into the cell. There is a foul sort of smell emanating from it like all the others, unwashed bodies and rotten food.
I grip my hands into fists to try and control the shaking that has gotten ahold of them. This is not happening to me. I am only dreaming. I will wake up and find myself back in bed, late in getting up for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley will scold me, but then be all kind and worrisome when she figures out that I've had a nightmare. Then she'll make everything better.
I'm almost able to delude myself into thinking that way but for the fact that I'm not waking up, I'm unable to keep my happy thoughts. I'm disturbed from my frantic thinking by a rasping croak that I'm pretty sure is supposed to be a laugh. I startle and jump a little. I can hear a slow shuffling noise coming out of the darkness that is in front of me.
Suddenly there is the looming shape of a man coming forward. A few seconds later he is close enough to the light in order for me to make him out more clearly. I can assume that he is a tall man for even though he's hunched over, he is still taller than me. He is wearing threadbare prison regulation rags. For the first time since getting here it strikes me that this must be Azkeban.
His frame is rather withered, but there is still enough bulk on him, that I can tell that he was once a rather intimidating man. Very long dark sandy hair hangs from his head. His hair shines in the light from the amount of grease it has accumulated. Another throaty rasp comes from him.
"I should have known that Black would have been serious. I should have prepared myself for him to escape. He's not the only one with unresolved issues…" The man wheezes, his throat raw from disuse. Suddenly his head shoots up violently from it's hung position.
Fierce familiar dark blue eyes meet mine. There's a tinge of hysteria, and psychosis in them. "Daniel's brats are still out there." He snarls. I jump back in shock mind reeling, trying to get away from him as fast as I possibly can.
"I can still feel that they're alive…"
I awake gasping in a cold sweat in bed in the room that I'm sharing with Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron. I'm not in the cold corridor; I'm not in Azkeban. I'm safe, he's not really here, and I didn't really see Augustus. I heave a breath of relief and sag back against the pillow.
Today is supposed to be a good day. Today I get on the Hogwarts Express and make my way back to school. I'm going to be safe; I'm going back where I belong. My heartbeat is slowing, and the panic that had gripped me is fading. I slip from my bed and head to the bathroom so that I can take my shower before anyone else is up.
When done, I change into my clothes for the day and slip out into the hall in order to not wake up Ginny. There's no need in having two sleep-deprived kids on the trip today. Once I'm out on the landing I hear activity going on around me. It seems like the rest of the Weasley's are up and getting prepared for the day.
I run into Percy who still looks thunderous, and I allow him to step aside me in order to get to Harry's room although I do not know why he is going there. Percy ended up yelling at Fred and George who were in Harry's room congratulating Ron on infuriating Percy once again. I couldn't help but chuckle at all the chaos that had been caused this early in the morning. Harry and Ron emerge from the room finally.
"Morning." I greet them somberly trying to gauge Harry's mood and whether Ron knows anything about what happened last night. Ron has this puzzled dopey look on his face and Harry looks annoyed so I'm guessing that he hasn't had a chance to spill the beans, and he's annoyed for Harry wants to talk about it.
"Morning Jamie." Ron mutters trudging down the steps ahead of us.
"Did you sleep all right Jamie?" Harry asks me worriedly. I jump startled at the question.
"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking you that?" I question giggling nervously. Harry gives me a serious look and I know that he means business.
"I'm fine Harry. It's not the first night that I've had trouble sleeping. How about you? Your night couldn't have been that good either." I tell him. Harry sighs and shakes his head at me.
"I've definitely had better. We're going to have to talk about it with the others on the train. But come on no need to worry everyone else quite yet. Besides, I'm starved and if we're not careful I'm sure that Ron and the twins will eat all the food before we have the chance to get any." Harry tells me with a genuine smile.
That makes me smile as well so I follow him the rest of the way down the stairs, and into the bar where everyone else is gathering. Mr. Weasley is reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley is telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them are rather giggly.
We slip into spots on either side of Ron who is still looking rather grumpy. Luka is opposite me, and he shoots me a concerned look with a raised eyebrow in question. He knows me well enough to be able to tell when I've had bad nights. I shake my head at him slightly letting him know that I don't want to talk about it.
After breakfast its total chaos while getting ready to leave, are are too busy heaving all our trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig, Dionysus, and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. Two small wickerwork basket stand beside the heap of trunks, one of them spitting loudly.
"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione coos through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."
"You won't," snaps Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?" He points at his chest, where a large lump indicates that Scabbers is curled up in his pocket.
Mr. Weasley, who has been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, sticks his head inside.
"They're here," he announces. "Harry, come on." I roll my eyes at the ground. For someone who is trying to make it look like there is nothing wrong, Mr. Weasley sure is going about it was wrong way. He's jumpier than a nervous rabbit.
Hermione, Ron, and I follow along behind the pair not wanting to get lost. Mr. Weasley quickly shuffles Harry into the backseat of one of the two dark green cars, with a man dressed in a suit that could only be an agent standing in front of it. We're hustled in along behind Harry so that it's the four of us, and much to Ron's dismay Percy as well.
Great that means that we'll have to play nice for a little longer with mister Big Head himself. The trip itself is rather boring, the four of us talk about nothing really in hushed voices for we know that Percy is listening in on our conversations. Doesn't he know that eavesdropping is rude?
We reach King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers find us trolleys, unload our trunks, touch their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drive away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.
Mr. Weasley keeps close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station. "Right then," he says, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry." I watch as Harry gives him a steely stare that Mr. Weasley just doesn't catch. I don't think that Harry's enjoying the Harry sitting that he's receiving. As soon as they're through, Luka and I go through the barrier with our trolleys.
After us comes Percy and Ginny who are panting like they had taken the barrier at a run as well. "Ah, there's Penelope!" says Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny catches our eyes, and we all turn away to hide our laughter as Percy strides over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she can't miss his shiny badge.
Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione have joined us, Harry and Ron lead the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looks quite empty. We load the trunks onto it, stowing Hedwig, Dionysus, and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then go back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Mrs. Weasley is in full on teary goodbye mode. Percy allows her to give him a kiss to his cheek, and she thoroughly embarrasses Fred and George by trapping them in a hug and kissing them as well. Ron grumbles and wipes off the kiss that he received, and then she goes on to kiss Hermione and Luka as well.
My brother has a pink tinge to his cheek as he raises his hand to the place where she kissed him. There's a sort of bewilderment about him. "Jamie promise me that you'll try and stay out of trouble this year. Oh, who am I kidding! But… you do know that the offer still stands though dearie. I may not be your mum but you can always come to me if you need to." Mrs. Weasley tells me softly cupping my face in her hands.
From the way that she's looking at me I know that she can tell that there's a lot going on in my head and that a lot of it isn't good. I feel the sting of tears behind my eyelids, but I push it away. Now is not the time to breakdown. "I know Mrs. Weasley and thank you." I tell her with a wavering voice.
"Good now don't be a stranger while at school, write me sometime it will be a welcome distraction from chores. And Jamie, if you don't write me, I will write you and remember, I'm not afraid to use howlers!" Mrs. Weasley tells me with a stern smile on her face. I immediately blush remembering Ron's howler last year.
"I promise Mrs. Weasley!" I tell her hurriedly, accepting her kiss on my cheek. It feels weird where she kissed me but nice at the same time. I have never really had that growing up. Kingsley was never the really affectionate person. Now I know why my brother looked so put out earlier. Thankfully Mrs. Weasley has turned onto Harry who has just come back from talking with Mr. Weasley.
The train sounds a brief whistle, and all of us kids hurry on board so that we don't miss our ride this year. We run to the compartment, and Ron throws our window open so that we can wave goodbye to the redheaded couple standing on the platform. Mrs. Weasley has started crying by now. Once they've disappeared out of sight, we sigh.
"Well I'll see you late Jamie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny. I'm going to go to my compartment. Michael got this really cool transfiguration book over the summer and I want to see what he's been writing about all summer. See you at the castle!" Luka says turning, and bidding us farewell.
"I need to talk to you in private," Harry mutters to Ron, Hermione, and me as the train picked up speed.
"Go away, Ginny," says Ron.
"Oh, that's nice," says Ginny huffily, and she stalks off. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all are full except for the one at the very end of the train.
This has only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I check on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express is usually reserved for students and we have never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushes the food cart.
The stranger is wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that have been darned in several places. He looks ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair is flecked with gray.
"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hisses as we sit down and slide the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispers Hermione at once.
"How d'you know that?" Harry asks.
"It's on his case," she replies, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there is a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin is stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
"Wonder what he teaches?" says Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.
"Come on Ron I know that school hasn't started up yet, but even Malfoy could get this one. There's only one post that's been open at Hogwarts in which to teach! Defense Against the Dark Arts." I tells him rolling my eyes. Ron sticks his tongue out at me in response.
I'm about to retaliate but Hermione gives me this looks that tells me that I better act my age. "Well, I hope he's up to it," says Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway . . ." He turns to Harry. "What were you going to tell us?"
Harry explains all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he's finished, Ron looks thunderstruck, and Hermione has her hands over her mouth. She finally lowers them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry . . . you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry —"
"I don't go looking for trouble," says Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."
"That's for sure." I mutter, and Harry hits me on the arm for that.
"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" demands Ron shakily.
"I think stuck in the psych ward in St. Mungo's would be nutter enough." I quip unhelpfully but I can't help it. I make jokes when I'm really nervous about something.
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," I say uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."
"But they'll catch him, won't they?" says Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too. . . ."
"I don't know the aurors have been looking for him for a while and haven't found him yet." I say morosely.
"Helpful Jamie… really helpful." Hermione says turning a shade of white.
"What's that noise?" says Ron suddenly. A faint, tinny sort of whistle is coming from somewhere. We look all around the compartment.
"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," says Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he has pulled a Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It is spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly. That can't be good.
"Is that a Sneakoscope?" asks Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.
"Yeah . . . mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron says. "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?" demands Hermione shrewdly.
"No! Well . . . I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys . . . but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"
"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advises as the Sneakoscope whistles piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."
He nods towards Professor Lupin. Ron stuffs the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deaden the sound, then closes the lid of the trunk on it.
"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," says Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."
"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asks Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —"
"Yeah, I think it is," says Ron in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"
"What's that?" asks Hermione.
"It's this sweetshop," explains Ron, a dreamy look coming over 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 in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next —"
Great now he's made me hungry. I know a fair amount about Hogsmeade but not enough to really contribute in this conversation.
"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione presses 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," says Ron, who is plainly not listening to a word Hermione is saying.
I turn my attention to Harry. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?" I ask him smiling noticing that he had been quiet for a while.
"'Spect it will," says Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."
"What d'you mean?" asks Ron.
"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."
Ron looks horrified."You're not allowed to come? But — no way — McGonagall or someone will give you permission —"
Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, is very strict.
"— or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —" I try thinking of another way that this can work. I'm not going to Hogsmeade if I can't be with all my friends. What's the point?
"Jamie!" says Hermione sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose —"
"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission," says Harry bitterly.
"But if we're with him," tries Ron spiritedly to Hermione, "Black wouldn't dare —"
"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snaps Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because we're there?"
She is fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she speaks. Oh no this can only end badly. I'm not ready for the first official Ron v. Hermione fight yet. It has to happen on school grounds so that I can run and hide, not in a small cramped compartment! Why Merlin do you hate me so?
"Don't let that thing out!" Ron says, but too late; Crookshanks leaps lightly from the basket, stretches, yawns, and springs onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembles and he shoves Crookshanks angrily away.
"Get out of here!" Ron cries.
"Ron, don't!" says Hermione angrily. Ron is about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirs. We watch him apprehensively, but he simply turns his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and sleeps on.
The Hogwarts Express moves steadily north and the scenery outside the window becomes wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thicken. People are chasing backward and forward past the door of our compartment. Crookshanks has now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.
Harry and I have taken to playing a game of muggle cards that he had taught me last year with a deck that he had apparently stolen from his cousin Dudley. Harry seems particularly proud of that one.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrives at the compartment door. "D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asks awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."
Hermione approaches Professor Lupin cautiously. "Er — Professor?" she says. "Excuse me — Professor?" He doesn't move.
"Don't worry, dear," says the witch as she hands Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."
"I suppose he is asleep?" says Ron quietly as the witch slides the compartment door closed. "I mean — he hasn't died, has he?"
I take the cake that Harry passes me with a grateful smile, I was seriously starting to starve there. For a moment I thought that I might not make it back to Hogwarts before expiring.
"No, no, he's breathing," whispers Hermione, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry passes her.
He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in our compartment has its uses. Midafternoon, just as it has started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, we hear footsteps in the corridor again, and our three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Or lovingly called Dumb and Dumber by yours truly which is a more apt name.
"Well, look who it is," says Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckle trollishly.
"Ooh Mr. Originality himself! That was a good one Malfoy I almost forgot to be offended there for a moment!" I shoot back at him. Malfoy decides to ignore my taunts though.
"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," says Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?" Ron stands up so quickly he knockes Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gives a snort.
"Who's that?" demands Malfoy, taking an automatic step backwards as he spots Lupin.
"New teacher," replies Harry confidently, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"
Malfoy's pale eyes narrow; he isn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"C'mon," he mutters resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappear. Harry and Ron sit down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.
"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he says angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and —" Ron makes a violent gesture in midair.
"Ron," hisses Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful . . ." But Professor Lupin is still fast asleep.
The rain thickens as the train speeds yet farther north; the windows are now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkens until lanterns flicker into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattles, the rain hammers, the wind roars, but still, Professor Lupin sleeps.
I was beginning to feel sleepy myself and my head is resting upon Harry's shoulder as he read from a book. I read along with him for lack of something better to do.
"We must be nearly there," says Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window. The words have hardly left him when the train starts to slow down.
"Great," says Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast. . . ." I lift my head up off of Harry's shoulder. Something doesn't seem right… I don't like this one bit.
The train is getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fall away, the wind and rain sounds louder than ever against the windows.
Harry, who is nearest the door, gets up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads are sticking curiously out of their compartments.
The train comes to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs tell us that luggage has fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps go out and we are plunged into total darkness. Okay that I don't like! I definitely do not like this!
"What's going on?" asks Ron.
"Ouch!" gasps Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!" I feel someone sit down beside me, and I reach out grasping his hand for I know that its Harry.
"D'you think we've broken down?" I ask nervously squeezing tightly to the hand in my grasp.
"Dunno . . ." Harry replies softly. There is a squeaking sound, and we see the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.
"There's something moving out there," Ron says. "I think people are coming aboard. . . ."
"What? I don't think that's supposed to happen… I don't like this guys! I really don't like this!" I whimper scooting closer to Harry. Monsters I can deal with as long as I can see them and I've had proper time to prepare and steel my fleeing reflexes. Mysterious people coming aboard our stopped train in the middle of no where with no lights on, that's another story entirely!
The compartment door suddenly opens and someone falls painfully over Harry's legs and onto mine.
"Sorry — d'you know what's going on? — Ouch — sorry —"
"Hullo, Neville," says Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.
"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?" Neville asks worriedly.
"No idea — sit down —" I tell him pushing him along to where the empty seats are. There is a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. That would have been more entertaining if I could have seen it happen though. I feel a squeeze to my hand and return the gesture to let Harry know that I'm still with him.
"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," comes Hermione's voice. I feel her pass me, hear the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.
"Who's that?"
"Who's that?"
"Ginny?"
"Hermione?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was looking for Ron —"
"Come in and sit down —"
"Not here!" says Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"
"Ouch!" cries Neville.
"Quiet!" says a hoarse voice suddenly. I'm not expecting it so I jump a little from my spot squished in between Harry and Ginny. Okay at any time this nightmare can just be over and I can wake up. I'm not kidding this time!
Professor Lupin appears to have woken up at last. I can hear movements in his corner. None of us speak. There is a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light fills the compartment. Professor Lupin appears to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminate his tired, gray face, but his eyes look alert and wary.
"Stay where you are," he tells us in the same hoarse voice, and he gets slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.
But the door slides slowly open before Lupin can reach it. What comes next is surely going to haunt my nightmares for years to come. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, is a cloaked figure that towers to the ceiling. Its face is completely hidden beneath its hood. My eyes dart downward, and what I see make my stomach twist. There is a hand protruding from the cloak and it is glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that has decayed in water. . . .
But it is visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed my gaze, the hand is suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.
And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it is, draws a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it is trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.
An intense cold sweeps over us all. I feel my breath catch in his chest. The cold is going deeper than my skin. It is inside my chest, it is inside my heart. A violent shiver shoots through me and I close my eyes against the cold.
"Run Alexis! Take Luka and Jamie! I can't hold them off forever!"
"Don't be stupid Daniel I'm not leaving without you!"
"Think of the children my love! They have to survive!"
"I don't want this to be goodbye…"
"I know but this is the only thing that we can do…"
I come back into myself with a shudder. That couldn't have just happened. I blink a few times and see that Harry has fallen onto the compartment floor and that Ron and Hermione are slapping him, trying to get him to wake up. Neville and Professor Lupin are watching on. I slide down to my knees beside them and give Harry's shoulder a shake.
"W-what?" Harry sputters coming to finally. I heave a sigh of relief and give a grateful smile. Thank Merlin. Ron and Hermione help Harry back up into his seat.
"Are you okay?" Ron asks nervously.
"Yeah," says Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature has vanished. "What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?"
"No one screamed Harry." I tell him pretty sure about that one. My dead parents might have been talking, but there definitely wasn't any screaming. I shiver again from the cold that seems to be lingering in my body.
"But I heard screaming —" A loud snap makes us all jump. Professor Lupin is breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. I don't think that I can eat after what just happened. Lupin starts handing us each a part of the chocolate bar.
"Eat it, it will help." Lupin tells me dropping a fairly large chunk into my palm; larger in size then everyone else's except for Harry's who's by far is the largest.
"What was that thing?" Harry asks Lupin.
"A dementor," replies Lupin, who is now wiping off his hands. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."
Everyone stares at him. Professor Lupin crumples up the empty chocolate wrapper and puts it in his pocket.
"Eat," he repeats. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me . . ." He strolls past Harry and disappears into the corridor.
"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" says Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.
"I don't get it. . . . What happened?" asks Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.
"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 —" Hermione attempts to explain.
"I thought you were having a fit or something," says Ron, who still looks scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —"
I shudder just thinking of what had happened and I didn't even see what was happening to Harry. I'm too busy reliving the last and only words that my parents will ever say to me.
"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," says Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away. . . ."
"It was horrible," squeaks Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"
"I felt weird," says Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again. . . ." I agree with that wholeheartedly. All the worrisome things that had been on my mind are now crushing their weight down onto my shoulders.
Ginny, who is huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as I feel, gives a small sob; Hermione and I go over and put a comforting arms around her.
"But didn't any of you — fall off your seats?" asks Harry awkwardly.
"No," says Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though. . . . and Jamie was just sitting there breathing really fast like she was going to be passing out…"
Professor Lupin has come back. He pauses as he enters, looking around, and says, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know. . . ." I raise my piece of chocolate shakily to my mouth, and I'm instantly happy that I decided to try it for warmth spreads through me as soon as I eat it. That's much better.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," says Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?" Harry looks shocked that the professor knows his name but everyone in the wizarding world knows who he is. Harry mutters a fine and we go back to silence.
We didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stops at Hogsmeade station, and there is a great scramble to get outside; owls hoot, cats meow, and Neville's pet toad croaks loudly from under his hat. It is freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. Just what I needed an ice bath after I had just warmed up from being internally frozen!
"Firs' years this way!" calls a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I turn and see the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake. I can't help the smile that comes to my face even though I'm about to catch hypothermia.
"All righ', you four?" Hagrid yells over the heads of the crowd. We wave at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around us are shunting us away along the platform. We follow the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches await the remaining students, each pulled, I can only assume, by an invisible horse, because when we climb inside and shut the door, the coach sets off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.
The stagecoach smells like moldy straw but I'm not going to complain since I'm out of the freezing rain finally and at least a little more dry. I couldn't help but keep shooting worried glances at Harry along with Ron and Hermione. He really scared me there. I'm not ready to lose my best friend just quite yet.
As the carriage trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, I see two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf me again; but I just gritted my teeth and turned my attention to Hermione. The carriage picks up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione is leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage sways to a halt, and Hermione and Ron get out and I'm right behind them.
As Harry steps down, a drawling, delighted voice sounds. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
Malfoy elbows past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.
"Shove off, Malfoy," says Ron, whose jaw was clenched.
"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" says Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"
"I bet you were crying for your mummy Malfoy." I snarl at him. No one gets to talk to them that way.
"At least I have a mum Pendragon!" He sneers. I wince and turn my face away from Malfoy not wanting to see him get the best of me.
"That was a low blow Malfoy!" Harry growls taking a step towards Malfoy.
"Is there a problem?" says a mild voice. Professor Lupin has just gotten out of the next carriage.
Malfoy gives Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which takes in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he says, "Oh, no — er — Professor," then he smirks at Crabbe and Goyle and leads them up the steps into the castle.
Hermione prods Ron and me in the back to make us hurry, and the four of us join the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which is lit with flaming torches, and houses a magnificent marble staircase that leads to the upper floors. Ah, it's good to be back.
The door into the Great Hall stands open at the right; we follow the crowd towards it, but have barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which is black and cloudy tonight, when a voice calls, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"
Harry and Hermione turn around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, is calling over the heads of the crowd. She is a stern-looking witch who wears her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes are framed with square spectacles.
"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she tells them. "Move along there, Weasley, Pendragon." She tells us. Reluctantly Ron and I watch as Harry and Hermione trail off behind McGonagall.
"Come on, we best get a seat so that we can get some food." Ron tells me grabbing me by the elbow, and steering me into the Great Hall towards the Gryffindor table. Ron and I make it to seats beside either Weasley twin and save the seats next to us for Harry and Hermione. George nudges me with his elbow from his place next to me.
"I hear that Harry had a rough time of it on the train. He all right?" George whispers. I nod my head. "Smashing that means that we can get on to much more enjoyable topics like what good natured practical hijinks that we're going to get up to this year. Freddie and I have been coming up with some great ideas and new inventions all summer." He explains.
I grin at George but I'm still fairly distracted on the account that two of my best friends are currently with McGonagall at the moment. I allow myself to get pulled into the whispered conversation with George as the Sorting begins. Looking at all of the small terrified faces of the new first years, makes me wonder if I was exactly that small and that scared looking when it was my first year here.
The Sorting goes by and my friends are still not here yet, and Ron is starting to look worried as well. Suddenly Hermione is slipping into the empty seat next to me, and Harry into the one next to Ron. "What was that all about?" Ron questions, and I learn forward across the table so I'm able to hear. Harry opens his mouth to explain but he doesn't get far.
Headmaster Dumbledore has risen to the podium to speak. Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gives an impression of great energy. He has several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose.
"Welcome!" says Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. . . ." Dumbledore clears his throat and continues, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
I shudder at the mention of Azkeban again; it reminds me of my nightmare last night. Have those dementors seen my uncle before?
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continues, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," he adds blandly, and Harry, Ron, and I glance at each other. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he says.
Percy, who is sitting a few seats down from me, puffs out his chest again and stares around impressively. Dumbledore pauses again; he looks very seriously around the hall, and nobody moves or makes a sound.
"On a happier note," he continues, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.
"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There is some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clap hard, me among them. Professor Lupin looks particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.
"Look at Snape!" I hiss into Hermione's ear. Professor Snape, the Potions master, is staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It is common knowledge that Snape wants the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even I, who hate Snape, am startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It is beyond anger: It is loathing.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continues as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin dies away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I stare at one another, stunned. Then we join in with the applause, which is tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. We lean forward to see Hagrid, who is ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.
"We should've known!" Ron roars, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I are the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore starts speaking again, we see that Hagrid is wiping his eyes on the tablecloth. "Well, I think that's everything of importance," says Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets before us fill suddenly with food and drink. Just looking at the food makes my mouth start to water. I don't know when I became hungry but now I'm positively starving!
It is a delicious feast; the hall echoes with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I however, are eager for it to finish so that we can talk to Hagrid. We know how much being made a teacher means to him. Hagrid isn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been us who had cleared Hagrid's name last year.
At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart have melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gives the word that it was time for us all to go to bed, and we got our chance.
"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squeals as we reach the teachers' table.
"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it . . . great man, Dumbledore . . . came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough. . . . It's what I always wanted. . . ."
"As long as we don't have to deal with any more student eating creatures Hagrid, I think that you're class is going to be the best of them all." I tell him patting him as high as I can right which is his arm.
Overcome with emotion, he buries his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shoos us away. I heave a great yawn suddenly reminded that I didn't sleep that well the night before and that it was getting fairly late. All I want to do is get into my pajamas and curl up in bed.
We join the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asks us, "Password?"
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy calls from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"
"Oh no," says Neville Longbottom sadly. He always has trouble remembering the passwords.
"Don't worry Neville, I think that this year might just be your lucky year." I tell him sleepily as I pass by him. Neville shoots me a grateful look. We climb through the portrait hole and say goodnight to Harry and Ron as they head up to the boys dormitory.
I follow behind Hermione up to our floor where the new sign read third years. We push into the circular room with five four-poster beds with all our stuff all ready in front of them. I collapse onto my bed face first and let out a long contented sigh.
"It does feel good to be back I have to say, even if there are dementors around." Hermione tells me flopping down onto her bed as well. I manage to push myself up into a sitting position.
"Yeah, it does feel good to be back…" I trail off thinking about all the problems that have followed me back to the castle, that none of my friends know about. "Really good to be back…" I whisper, and drop back down onto my mattress.