Remus wasn't pretending to sleep initially. He'd got to the train early to make certain he could claim an empty compartment, and it was after a full moon, and sometimes random unplanned naps happened. James used to tell people he was narcoleptic, which was so embarrassing, but was better than the truth.

But he made the choice, when confronted by tiny, crackling teen voices, not to "wake up." He didn't really want to ruin their train ride any more than a random sleeping adult in their compartment already had. And honestly he was too tired to completely slip into his responsible adult persona after so long without practice.

And then, "Did you hear from Harry at all?" He desperately needed to hear their conversation.

"Not since his birthday. My present was returned! Have you ever had an owl return your post?" The little girl had obviously never tried to write a letter to a dead person. But then, she was young. There was plenty left to learn.

"Mine came back too. Mum says that can happen sometimes if someone is hidden by magic. If they're somewhere unplottable. She recons Dumbledore might be using extra precautions, what with Sirius Black."

"Hmm," was all the girl said, as though she were really considering this piece of information, turning it over to see if it had any flaws. "Well he'll have to be at Hogwarts, even if he didn't ride the train. Dumbledore would never make him leave Hogwarts! It's the safest place in the wizarding world!"

The boy voice, a fuzzy red blob when Remus tried to get a look at him without actually opening his eyes, muttered something that sounded like "Basilisks, sure, safe," but that couldn't have been it. Dumbledore would have told him if there were basilisks in the school.

Maybe.

[line break]

The Fortescue dropped off two nervous looking girls, nearly identical to one another at King's Cross Station. One in a neat skirt and blazer, clutching a straw boater to her chest, the other dressed in a long black scholar's gown, like a tiny barrister.

Harry was just grateful Hogwarts uniforms were unisex, as he wouldn't relish the knee socks and tartan. Mostly he was just excited to be early this year after last year's absolute disaster of an entrance. Fortescues didn't fly to school, Mrs. Fortescue had pressed, as she helped him to shape himself into the role of her heir representation at Hogwarts.

Fortescue didn't do a lot of things, though Harry had put his foot down when she said that he might perhaps be better served to choose an academic club rather than quidditch. Potters played quidditch. And Harry didn't think his flight style was so recognizable that everyone would instantly assume that he was Harry Potter in disguise.

Mrs. Fortescue took this with grace, told him that if he made the team, she'd send him a broomstick, but reminded him that first years weren't allowed to take one, and that it had been one hundred years since the last time a first year had been admitted to a team. Then she dropped the subject, moving past Harry's stubborn jaw to the subject of charms club, and her time in the Hogwarts art society.

Harry climbed onto the nearly empty train and froze when he saw a three members of the Slytherin quidditch team chortling together in the corredor like they'd just done something horrible.

"Hi there dovey, what's your name?" A Slytherin chaser who had actually tried to kick Harry in the head once, did an awkward kind of half squat like he was trying not to tower over Harry. Which was just. Hilarious.

"Fortescue," Harry said, chin jutting and elbows ready for anything.

Instead of mocking or laughing or cursing him, the three boys exchanged some kind of significant look and then lined up to shake his hand.

"Hello Miss Fortescue, it's so lovely to meet you, I'm Miles."

"I'm Terrence,"

"I'm Thomas."

"Do you need help with your case?"

"Let's find you a compartment."

Harry let his hand be shook, trying not to show on his face that he was feeling rather as if each of the boys had pulled out a herring and slapped him in the face with it. It would have made more sense.

When they started making off with his trunk, Harry almost protested, but he wasn't sure if the rules were the same in this upside-down land. Perhaps, if you weren't Harry Potter: Gryffindor Seeker, Slytherins would show you the same courtesy that Fred and George had showed Harry in his first year.

"Let's see," said Thomas, peering into a few open compartments, "Here we go! Do you know Astoria Greengrass?"

Harry shook his head, still baffled to see a member of the Slytherin quidditch team smiling. He didn't even know they could smile. Smirk meanly, sure.

"Miss Greengrass, may we present Miss Fortescue?" The girl in the compartment was clutching a massive book in a nervous way that reminded Harry painfully of first year Hermione. Harry might be nervous of his disguise, but he knew how to talk to Hermione.

"Hello Astoria, I'm Fabergé, what are you reading?" He stuck out his hand, ignoring uncomfortable parallels to his own first train ride.

She pulled one hand off the book but made a pretty solid shake. "It's nice to meet you Fabergé," she looked back to the three boys and didn't answer the question.

"Lovely," Terrence broke in, "you're friends already. Astoria be a doll and let Fabergé sit here with you?" He didn't wait for an answer before lugging Harry's trunk up into the rack.

Harry stood in the middle of the compartment, just watching, confused at the world while the boys made their goodbyes and promised to check up on them later. When they were finally gone, Harry sat down next to the window, gazing out to see who else was at the station. Draco Malfoy was hugging his mother on the platform when Astoria broke in, "It's Hogwarts a History, but I wasn't reading it."

"Huh?" Harry jerked around, almost forgetting who he was meant to be, "I mean, excuse me?"

"The book. My sister gave it to me." He knew her last name sounded familiar. What was her sister's name.

"Oh?" Harry knew about siblings. It was impossible to say whether this was a positive or negative statement.

"It's a history book," she continued, curling her lip slightly, "it's completely boring."

Harry leaned forward to get a glimpse of the title, unsure if she would share. It was Hogwarts, A History. Harry wanted to laugh, but he was worried it would come out slightly hysterical.

"D'you not like reading then?" Harry could understand that. Compared to the magic of daily life in the Wizarding World, books, even magic books, just couldn't compare.

"Oh reading's fine," Astoria waved the hand that was not keeping a firm grasp on her book, "But if there's no dragons, what's the point?"

And how was it that Harry kept accidentally befriending people who were mad for dragons? How was this his life?

"I, er, I haven't read it, but I think there might be a Basilisk in there." Had there been a Basilisk? Where had Hermione found the record of Slytherin's monster?

Astoria frowned thoughtfully down at the book. "Only one Basilisk?" She asked, like this was not enough giant monster snakes.

"I mean, yeah. They're not really social, I think. Not really big on community." Why did words keep coming out of his mouth? What was the end goal here?

They stayed in silence for a long moment, before Astoria began scouring the index to try to see if her sister's book could possibly have interest to her. Harry sat back against the seat, fiddling with his new wand. His holly wood wand was too distinctive to take to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Fortescue had taken him down to her family vaults and let him choose an ancestral wand to borrow. The white, shiny aspen wood was almost shocking in his hand after two years casting with a familiar wand. What Harry really wanted was to learn some more magic. He wasn't really thrilled to start back in first year, but second chances didn't come around every day, and perhaps if he managed to land in Ravenclaw, he could convince an older student to let him practice with them.

The compartment door opened again. it was about two minutes to ten, and the train was about to leave. Someone was quite late. "Hello Astoria," a familiar voice drawled, and Astoria looked up, calmly!

Harry's shoulders were somewhere near his eyebrows, which he instantly tried his best to smooth because, he reminded himself, Fabergé Fortescue had never met Draco Malfoy in her life. And, taking a look, he lowered his shoulders even more, because Harry Potter had never met a Draco Malfoy who was smiling, not smirking, but actual, pleased, curve-of-the-mouth smiling at Astoria.

"I've brought a new friend for you," Malfoy was saying, not sneering! Harry was just staring dumbly at this stranger until he stepped back and suddenly there was another girl in the compartment. She sat primly next to Astoria while Crabbe and Goyle brought in her trunk.

At least they were still the same and hadn't started spouting poetry or something. Malfoy was saying more words, potentially introducing this new person, but what did Harry know? He could be reciting potions ingredients for all Harry was listening, too caught up in his whole worldview being shifted. Who were these people? Why were they being so nice?

When they were left alone, Harry had to ask, "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Scarlett." She did not elaborate.

[line break]

"Silence!" Remus ordered as a chill swept over the train.

He got a good look at the group in his compartment for the first time before he swept out with a rasped "I'm going to go talk to the conductor."

The Hogwarts Express never stopped on the ride to Hogsmead. It was unheard of. There was absolutely no reason to do so. And the chill feeling of happiness leaching out of the corridors told him far too well what they had picked up. But surely no one in the ministry could think that sending Dementors to inspect school children could be a good idea. Sure, they were idiotic, but no one was that stupid.

Except, apparently Fudge was. Which was a problem for future Remus. Present Remus made it to the front of the train with a few dozen quick strides, not stopping to check in on the students until he knew exactly what was going on.

The conductor was standing, white faced, at the front of the train. Tension radiating off her as she gripped her wand. She wasn't quite in a ready stance, but she looked like she could go from zero to casting in about three seconds. Remus approved.

"What on earth is going on?" Remus asked.

"Ministry orders," the conductor gritted out, "Dementor are permitted to search anywhere Sirius Black is liable to be."

"But surely they could have done that after the children got off?" Subjecting school children to Dementors? Of all the nonsensical things. Sure, he was a mass murderer, but he didn't eat people's souls.

The conductor shook her head, "Dumbledore says we're to comply with the ministry's orders for now. Nothing I can do until they get through searching."

"And how long will that be?"

"Until they find something, I imagine." She runs one finger down her wand like she'd dearly like to catch a dementor "finding" something.

"Well, I don't care what the ministry thinks it's doing. Dementors can exacerbate trauma in children, and they didn't commit any crimes. They can wait until the children are off the train before searching." Remus wasn't often stubborn, he liked to think, but there were some things that could not be borne.

The conductor nodded almost imperceptibly, as though she didn't quite want him to see her do it. "Ask Agnes for- if you need anything. You'll need chocolate yes, for the effects? She'll give as much as you need for the children, we'll invoice it to the ministry, yeah?"

Remus grinned, sudden and fierce. "Yeah."