Chapter 5.
The Hogwarts Express
The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily along the tracks, its rhythmic clattering usually a source of comfort. But today, the sound felt strangely hollow, reverberating through Harry's chest like an ominous warning.
The air was thick, heavy with a presence he couldn't quite identify.
The corridors stretched before him, seeming unnaturally long, each compartment he passed adding to the weight on his shoulders. His eyes darted over his fellow students, some laughing, some chatting excitedly, others settling into their seats, but none of it felt right. It was like the noise was too loud, the faces too bright, the air too warm.
The air was thick, heavy with a presence he couldn't quite identify.
Harry's mind wasn't on the train, the chatter, or even the familiar routine of returning to Hogwarts. His thoughts kept circling back to the broadcast that he'd heard just before leaving Angel Grove, to the words that had been addressed not to Harry Potter, but to the Green Ranger.
"How do we determine what's good? In a democracy, good is a conversation, not a unilateral decision. So I urge the Green Ranger to come to this Hill of the People tomorrow. To see those who have suffered by his hand. The world needs to know what he stands for. How far will he take his power? And does he now act by our will or by his own?"
The invitation played over and over in his head, each word cutting deeper than the last. This political figure had questioned his intentions, his very purpose.
"Suffered by his hand."
The phrase lingered, echoing louder than anything else. The phrase gnawed at him. It wasn't entirely untrue, and that was what stung the most. He could still remember the chaos and destruction he'd wrought for Rita Repulsa. People had suffered because of him, and no amount of good deeds could erase that fact. But the idea that he might choose to wield his power for anything other than good was unbearable.
He hadn't decided yet whether he'd respond to the invitation. The idea of being scrutinized not for who he was but for what he could do, made his skin crawl. And yet, there was a part of him that felt an obligation to answer.
"Harry!"
The familiar voice cut through the fog of his thoughts. Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione waiting for him, both of them grinning and waving. Ron's freckled face shone with warmth, his messy hair even more disheveled than usual, while Hermione looked tanned, her hair swept up into a bun that only barely contained her curls.
"Hey!" Harry greeted, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He pushed through the crowd and walked over, his feet light despite the unease still churning in his stomach. The sight of his best friends, just as he remembered them, was a welcome comfort.
Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Blimey, it's good to see you!" he exclaimed.
"How are you?" Hermione asked, her gaze softening as she studied him, the concern in her voice unmistakable. "Is everything okay?"
Harry hesitated, caught off guard by the question. "I'm good." he replied, maybe a little too quickly. "How about you two? Been busy?"
Ron grinned broadly. "You could say that." he said, pulling out his wand with a flourish. "Look at this beauty, fourteen inches, willow, unicorn tail hair. Got it after..." He paused, his cheeks coloring a little. "You know, the old one didn't make it out of the Chamber."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "Nice wand, Ron." she said with a teasing look before turning to Harry. "I've already started reading ahead on magical creatures. Did you know that —"
But Harry wasn't listening anymore. He heard her, of course, but her words faded into the background as his mind wandered again.
Hermione nudged him gently, pulling him back to the present.
He blinked, realizing they were standing outside a compartment, the door already cracked open. Inside, a man sat slouched against the window, his face hidden in shadow. His robes, worn and frayed at the edges, hung loosely around him. His graying brown hair was slightly unkempt, and the bags beneath his eyes suggested a long and restless journey.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer, more probing than before.
Harry forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said quickly, the smile faltering. "Just tired, I guess."
Hermione studied him for a moment longer, her gaze searching his face. When Harry didn't elaborate, she gave a small nod, accepting his answer, for now.
"Who's that?" Ron asked in a lowered voice as they stepped inside, settling themselves at the far end of the compartment. Harry, still distracted, followed, his gaze flickering to the man.
Hermione glanced at the man's luggage, which had an old, battered label. "Professor R. J. Lupin."
"Think he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Hope he's up for it. Looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over."
Hermione shot him a pointed look, but didn't respond, her attention already drifting back to Lupin. Harry, however, didn't speak a word. His eyes were locked on the window, but his thoughts were elsewhere, his mind lost in the rising tide of unease.
The warmth of the compartment, though normal for the chilly fall night outside, felt stifling to Harry, like the air had thickened with an invisible weight. It wasn't the heat that unsettled him, no, it was a deeper sensation, a presence, malignant and suffocating, lurking just beyond the walls of the compartment.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up, prickling with a primal, visceral sense of danger. His grip tightened involuntarily on the edge of his seat, and just as he was about to speak, the temperature in the compartment dropped, sharply, violently.
"Why's it so cold all of a sudden?" Hermione whispered, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"Not normal." Ron muttered, his eyes darting around the compartment.
Harry didn't answer. The feeling only intensified, the sense of an approaching danger. Something about the cold, the air, felt like it was pushing in on him.
A flicker of green energy sparked around his fingers, an involuntary surge of power responding to the growing sense of danger.
The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
And then, the door to the compartment slid open with a cold, metallic creak.
A shadow filled the doorway, towering and cloaked in darkness. The figure moved forward without sound, its presence suffocating the room. It was wrong, a grotesque distortion of what should have been. A long, decayed hand reached from beneath its tattered robes, fingers elongated and dripping with something dark and glistening.
The temperature in the compartment plummeted, and his breath was visible in the freezing air. The chill sinking deep into his chest triggered something. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The memories were starting to flood in, unwelcome and violent.
He wasn't sitting on the train anymore.
He was back in Angel Grove, standing amidst a smoldering ruin. It was a nightmare made real. Buildings were collapsed, walls crumbling to the ground, and smoke poured into the darkened sky. The sound of screams echoed in the distance, piercing his mind like a knife.
He was wearing the Green Ranger armor, his hands tightly gripping the Dragon Dagger. The city around him was a graveyard, and he was its executioner. He saw people fleeing in terror, the faces filled with fear. Fear of him. His hands were covered in blood. His actions had destroyed lives. He had been the monster.
The scent of death filled his nostrils. The screams echoed in his mind, the weight of their terror unbearable.
This wasn't him anymore. He had changed. He wasn't that monster. Not anymore.
The Dementor moved closer, the foul scent of decay filling the compartment. The temperature dropped even further, but Harry wasn't afraid. He had been through worse. He had been through hell and come out the other side. The memories might plague him, but they would not control him.
The Green Ranger didn't cower. The Green Ranger didn't fall. The Green Ranger fought.
"Stay back." His voice was low, steady. There was no panic, no hesitation.
The Dementor's cold hand reached for him. Its fingers curled, ready to make contact, to feed on his soul.
The green energy flickered around his hand again, more intense this time. His fingers twitched as the Dragon Dagger began to materialize in his grasp.
For a moment, the air crackled, and the Dementor faltered. Its decayed form stiffened, its hollow eyes flicking nervously from Harry's hand to the energy beginning to take shape. It recoiled slightly, as if uncertain, as if something deep within its being recognized the danger in that flickering power. It wasn't threatened, no, the Dementor was too far gone for that. But it was wary, unsure, instinctively taking a step back.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Harry's eyes snapped to the doorway. Professor Lupin stood there, his wand raised with an air of absolute control. From the tip of his wand emerged a silver wolf, its form blazing with light, fierce and majestic. The wolf leaped forward with a growl that vibrated the air, charging at the Dementor with an unstoppable force. The creature recoiled, retreating into the hallway with a hiss, its form dissipating as the temperature began to rise once again.
The wolf dissolved, and the warmth returned to the compartment.
Lupin lowered his wand, his expression calm but still watchful as he turned his gaze toward the trio. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment longer than the others.
"Is everyone all right?" Lupin asked, his voice grave but gentle.
Ron and Hermione nodded quickly, still pale from the ordeal, while Harry didn't answer immediately. His face was impassive, but his mind was still grappling with the intense flood of memories.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, her voice still shaking.
Lupin's face darkened. "A Dementor. They guard Azkaban. They're searching the train for Sirius Black."
Harry didn't react, his face neutral, but his thoughts were far from calm. The memories had shaken him, but they wouldn't stop him. He couldn't afford to let them.
Lupin looked at him carefully, as if he had noticed something in Harry's eyes. "You felt it strongly, didn't you?"
Harry nodded, his voice clipped but steady. "I've dealt with worse."
Lupin didn't press, but his gaze softened slightly. He handed them each a bar of chocolate. "Eat this. It'll help."
Ron and Hermione immediately dug into theirs, but Harry only held his piece in his hand, staring out the window at the passing countryside. The unease still lingered, but he could feel his control returning, his steady pulse grounding him. The memories of destruction would always be with him, but they were not who he was anymore. He had changed.
"Get some rest." Lupin said gently. "We'll be at Hogwarts soon."
Harry nodded, but his gaze was distant, lost in thought.
Hogwarts
As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station, Harry joined the throng of students disembarking. The cool evening air bit at his skin as he looked around for the carriages that would take them up to the castle.
Standing at the edge of the platform, Harry froze. For years, the carriages had always moved on their own, seemingly enchanted. But now, something stood between the shafts, harnessed to the carriages.
They looked like horses, or at least, horse-like. Their fleshless black forms shimmered faintly in the dim light, their skeletal frames taut and leathery. Their heads bore a dragonish quality, and vast bat-like wings sprouted from their shoulders. Their pupil-less white eyes stared ahead, their breath misting in the chill air. A strange, unsettling mix of fear and curiosity gripped Harry.
He stepped closer to one of the creatures, the students bustling around him oblivious. As he reached out tentatively, a voice broke his trance.
"Harry." said Lupin, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.
Harry turned quickly. Lupin was standing a few feet away, watching him with a careful gaze. The older man stepped closer, his cloak shifting slightly in the breeze. Ron and Hermione lingered behind, chatting as they waited for Harry, oblivious to the exchange.
"What are you looking at?" Lupin asked, his tone cautious, yet kind.
Harry hesitated, unsure of how to explain. He gestured toward the nearest carriage. "The horses pulling the carriages." he said quietly. "What are they?"
Lupin's expression softened, though his eyes filled with something like sadness. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "They're called Thestrals. Not everyone can see them."
"Why not?" Harry asked, his voice laced with unease.
Lupin hesitated, glancing toward Ron and Hermione, who were still unaware of the conversation. His voice was low and serious when he replied. "Only those who have witnessed death can see them, Harry."
Harry felt his stomach twist. He turned back to the Thestrals, their eerie, otherworldly forms standing silent in the gloom. The memories surged forward unbidden, the destruction he'd caused as the Green Ranger. The weight of it bore down on him, a sharp pang of guilt and responsibility rising in his chest.
"Harry! We're going to be late for the feast!" Hermione called, pulling Harry from his thoughts. She and Ron were already climbing into a carriage, looking back expectantly.
Lupin gave Harry a small, understanding nod. "Go on." he said gently.
Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on the Thestrals for a moment longer before he turned to follow his friends. As he climbed into the carriage, he glanced back once more at the creatures. Their empty eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, he felt an unspoken understanding pass between them.
Then, with a faint lurch, the carriage began to move, carrying him up toward the castle and the warm glow of the Great Hall beyond.
Hogwarts
The Great Hall's clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation faded into the background as Harry slipped out through the main doors. No one seemed to notice his absence, not even Ron or Hermione, caught up in the excitement of the start-of-term feast. He needed air, space, and somewhere far from the oppressive warmth and noise of the hall.
The night outside was cool, the sky a deep velvet punctuated by glimmering stars. Harry made his way down the sloping lawns of Hogwarts, the castle's light casting faint reflections on the surface of the Great Lake. A gentle breeze stirred the water, rippling the moon's silver reflection.
Reaching the edge of the lake, Harry sat on a large, smooth rock and let the quiet envelop him. The sounds of the feast were far behind him now, replaced by the soft lap of water against the shore and the distant rustle of leaves in the Forbidden Forest.
But even here, his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone.
Harry sighed, picking up a small stone and skipping it across the surface of the lake. He watched the ripples spread and fade before throwing another, harder this time, as though he could fling his frustration into the water along with it.
"May I join you, Harry?" a familiar voice asked gently, breaking through the quiet.
Harry turned, startled, to see Dumbledore standing a few paces behind him. The Headmaster's silhouette was framed by the faint glow of the castle, his half-moon glasses catching the moonlight. He looked as calm and unhurried as ever, his hands clasped lightly behind his back.
Harry nodded, unable to find his voice. Dumbledore walked closer and seated himself on the grass beside the rock where Harry sat, his long robes pooling around him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The stillness of the night wrapped around them, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the lapping of the lake.
"I understand there was an encounter with a Dementor on the train." Dumbledore said finally, his voice low and kind. "Were you hurt?"
"You know that I wasn't."
Dumbledore's expression shifted, the faintest flicker of concern crossing his features. "That's not what I meant. I meant, are you all right?"
Harry's gaze dropped to the water. "Yeah." he said, his voice steady.
"You've endured more than most your age, Harry," Dumbledore replied gently, his voice almost a whisper.
Harry didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned the smooth stone over in his palm, the silence stretching between them. Finally, he said, "I went back to Angel Grove over the summer."
Dumbledore leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. He was listening, carefully, intently.
"I helped them fight one of Rita's monsters." Harry paused, the weight of the words still unfamiliar on his tongue. "I couldn't run away from it anymore."
Dumbledore's gaze was steady and calm, his attention fully on Harry. He waited patiently as Harry's voice grew more sure, more resolute.
"It felt… it felt like it might be the first step toward making things right." Harry said, his voice growing stronger. "I know that I can't undo the damage that I caused, but if being a Power Ranger means I can protect people, then that's what I'll do. I'll do whatever it takes."
The words hung in the air, charged with a determination Harry hadn't fully realized until he spoke them aloud.
Dumbledore, as always, gave him his full attention, his eyes soft but thoughtful. "You've taken on a great responsibility, Harry. To protect others is an admirable purpose, but it is also one fraught with difficulty."
Harry nodded, feeling the weight of those words. "I know. But if I have the power to stop the destruction, then I owe the world that."
For a long moment, Dumbledore said nothing, his expression unreadable but kind. He leaned back slightly, gazing at Harry as though he were considering every word carefully.
"You can be their hero. You can be anything they need you to be... or you can be none of it. You don't owe this world a thing. You never did." Dumbledore said, his voice gentle and full of kindness. "But if this path you've chosen is truly what you believe is right… Then know that you are not alone."
"Professor Lupin…" Harry began, changing the subject, and throwing another stone into the lake, watching the ripples spread. "He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"
"Yes." Dumbledore said, his tone becoming more reflective, almost wistful. "An old friend of your parents. He's a skilled wizard, and I believe you'll learn much from him."
Harry hesitated before speaking again. "He seems kind."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Now, I believe it's time that you returned to the castle."
Harry stood too, his shoulders still heavy, but the weight didn't feel quite as unbearable as before. "Thanks, Professor."
Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder briefly, a gesture of quiet support. "You are always welcome to seek my counsel, Harry."
Harry and Dumbledore walked back toward the castle under the starlit sky.
Washington
The crowd outside the courthouse was a volatile mix of emotions. Protesters yelled accusations of danger and unchecked power, while others shouted in defense of the Green Ranger, holding signs that proclaimed him a hero. Police officers stood as a wall between the two factions, their presence barely keeping the tension from boiling over.
In the midst of the commotion, a streak of green energy descended from the sky. The Green Ranger landed at the base of the courthouse steps, his armored form commanding attention. The noise from the crowd grew louder, some boos, some cheers, all charged with emotion. But as he began to ascend the steps, his presence seemed to dampen the chaos.
With purposeful steps, he pushed open the courthouse doors. Inside, the quiet was almost deafening, a stark contrast to the tumult outside. The Green Ranger's boots echoed off the marble floors as he walked through the halls, the weight of countless stares pressing down on him. People whispered in hushed tones, their gazes a mixture of awe, fear, and curiosity.
At last, he reached the main courtroom.
Inside, the atmosphere was even more stifling. Rows of seats filled with reporters, politicians, and concerned citizens all turned toward him in unison. Conversations died mid-sentence, and all eyes fell on the Green Ranger as he entered. The sound of the doors closing behind him echoed ominously in the silent chamber.
At the far end of the chamber, a senator sat behind a microphone, flanked by advisors and officials.
"Let the record show." the senator said, her voice steady but wary, "that the Green Ranger has entered the chamber."
The Green Ranger stopped in the center of the room, standing silently as the senator began to speak. Her words were carefully measured, a practiced monologue about accountability and responsibility.
"Let's put our cards on the table here." the Green Ranger interrupted, "You're scared of me because you can't control me. You don't, and you never will. But that doesnt mean I'm your enemy."
The senator raised an eyebrow. "Then who is? Rita Repulsa?"
The words had barely left her mouth when the room exploded.
A deafening blast tore through the chamber, engulfing it in fire and debris. The ceiling crumbled, sending beams and plaster crashing down. Flames spread rapidly, and thick smoke filled the air. Screams erupted as people were thrown from their seats, some pinned beneath rubble, others desperately trying to escape.
The Green Ranger's armor shielded him from the worst of the explosion. Standing amidst the chaos, he surveyed the devastation, his fists clenched. He knew immediately who was responsible. The telltale crackle of magic still lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable.
"Rita." he muttered.
Outside, chaos erupted. The crowd scattered in panic as smoke billowed from the courthouse windows. Emergency vehicles screeched to a halt, and first responders rushed toward the scene.
Inside the smoldering ruins of the courtroom, the Green Ranger moved with purpose. He lifted a beam off a woman trapped beneath it and carried her to safety. Over and over, he worked tirelessly, pulling survivors from the wreckage and handing them off to paramedics.
"Thank you… errr… we're going to need a little room to work." one of the paramedics stammered, their voice trembling as they gestured for him to step aside.
The Green Ranger nodded, stepping back. His gaze swept over the scene, firefighters battling the blaze, paramedics tending to the injured, and in the distance, bodies being covered with black sheets. The weight of the destruction, of lives lost and ruined, settled heavily on him.
As the last of the survivors were pulled from the wreckage, the Green Ranger stood silently amidst the devastation. His armor reflected the flickering light of the flames.
His fists tightened at his sides, and without a word, he vanished in a flash of green energy.
Angel Grove
Kimberly sat cross-legged on her bed. The soft glow of the television flickered across her face, casting fleeting shadows on the walls. She hugged a pillow tightly to her chest as she watched the news coverage unfold.
The images on the screen were devastating, smoke pouring from the shattered courthouse windows, emergency crews scrambling to pull survivors from the wreckage, and faces of mourning etched with grief.
"...in the senate hearing room where the Green Ranger was testifying. We don't have exact numbers yet, but I can tell you more than a dozen people have died in this explosion. First responders are at the scene, still bringing victims out." the reporter said, her tone somber. "Initially, the Green Ranger was seen helping victims after the blast, pulling people from the wreckage. But he seems to have disappeared, raising questions…"
Kimberly muted the television, unable to listen anymore. Her gaze dropped to her communicator resting on the bedside table. Its silent presence felt heavier than usual.
She reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly, and pressed the button. The familiar hum filled the quiet room.
"Harry." she said softly, her voice laced with apprehension. She waited, straining to hear the slightest hint of a reply.
Only static greeted her.
She swallowed hard, then tried again, her tone more urgent. "Harry, please… It's me."
Kimberly's shoulders slumped, and she lowered the communicator to her lap.
Her room was quiet save for the muted flicker of the television. Outside, the faint sounds of crickets filled the warm night air, their rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos replaying in her mind.
Kimberly leaned back against her headboard, clutching the communicator in both hands. For the first time since becoming a Power Ranger, she felt completely powerless.