Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a creative work of fiction based on the world crafted by J.K. Rowling. All rights, characters, and original concepts belong to her, and this fanfiction is an homage to their imaginative brilliance.

Chapter 1: Shadows on the Rails

The Hogwarts Express seemed to hum with excitement as students bustled through its corridor, eager to reunite with friends and embark on another year of magical adventures. But for Harry Potter, the journey back to school was anything but ordinary.

Mr. Weasley's warning about Sirius Black's sinister intentions weighed heavily on his mind, casting a dark shadow over the start of his third year. To make matters worse, it was feeling that each compartment was somehow filled, with no space for Harry and his friends to sit in together.

Luckily, at the far end of the carriage, Harry's eyes fell upon a lone compartment with its door slightly ajar. This compartment was almost empty, with just one occupant. In his few trips on the Hogwarts Express, Harry had never seen an adult, except the witch who pushed the food cart. 'Isn't the Hogwarts Express reserved for students?' he thought.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

With no other options available, Harry reluctantly took a seat opposite the sleeping stranger, his senses on high alert as the train started on its journey towards Hogwarts. He was soon joined by Ron, Ginny and Hermione, who after shooting suspicious glances at the adult, sat down and made themselves comfortable.

Shooting an apologetic glance towards Ginny, Harry turned towards the two people he had been friends with since joining Hogwarts. "I need to talk to you in private," he muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed. The truth was he didn't trust Ginny, not after what had happened last year. He knew, logically, she wasn't at fault—Voldemort had manipulated smarter and more experienced people. Yet, a nagging doubt lingered, a fear that she might do it all over again, just to get some attention from him.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron, his tone firm, shooing off his little sister from "their" compartment.

"Oh, that's nice," Ginny retorted huffily, and she stalked off, leaving the compartment with an air of indignation.

With Ginny gone, Ron refocused his attention on the stranger in their compartment. Or, would it be more correct to say they were the intruders in the stranger's compartment?

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron whispered as he sat down, sliding the door shut after Ginny's departure and taking the seat farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione whispered back at once.

"You just know everything, don't you?" Ron asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Honestly, Ron! It's on his case," Hermione replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where a small, battered case adorned with neatly knotted string sat. The name 'Professor R. J. Lupin' was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. "If you ever paid any attention to stuff around you, you would know too, wouldn't you?"

"Wonder what he teaches?" Ron pondered aloud, furrowing his brow as he examined Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," Hermione whispered, a hint of condescension in her voice, like she was someone above them due to her greater knowledge. "There's always only one vacancy, isn't there? Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already experienced two Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. It was rumoured that the position was cursed, with not one professor lasting more than a year.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," Ron remarked doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." He turned to Harry, prompting him to continue. "What were you going to tell us?"

"Well," Harry began, his voice low, "I had a talk with Mr. Weasley before we boarded the train."

"What about?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued.

"About Sirius Black," Harry replied, his gaze shifting to the compartment window, where the passing scenery blurred by in a rush of colours.

Hermione's eyes widened in concern. "What did he say?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.

"He told me that Sirius Black is after me," Harry continued, his tone grave. "He said the Ministry has reason to believe that Black is intent on finding me and... well, doing something to me."

Ron's expression darkened. "Blimey," he muttered under his breath. "That's heavy stuff, mate."

"But here's the thing," Harry continued, his frustration evident. "Mrs. Weasley was against telling me. They argued about it right in the middle of the Platform! I have every right to know what's going on with my life."

"That's ridiculous, Harry," Hermione exclaimed, her brow furrowing in disbelief. "Mrs Weasley is an adult and she knows what she is doing. How do you know it involves you?"

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Mum can be a bit overprotective sometimes," he said, frowning. "But she means well."

Hermione raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Are you sure, Ron?" she interjected. "I think Mrs. Weasley knows what's best for Harry, she is an adult after all. He's been through a lot, and maybe it's not a good idea to burden him with more worries."

Harry's jaw tightened. "I'm not a child anymore, Hermione," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can handle it. Besides, Mr. Weasley clearly thinks I should know."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, but... maybe dad's just being a bit rash," he suggested tentatively. "I mean, it's not like Sirius Black is definitely after you, right?"

Harry's patience was wearing thin. "I overheard them, Ron," he said firmly. "Black is targeting me. I need to know what's going on."

Hermione sighed, sensing the tension in the air. "Look, let's not argue about it," she said, trying to diffuse the situation. "We'll find out more about Sirius Black and figure out what to do next. There is no point in discussing this further."

Harry nodded silently, feeling a sense of betrayal gnawing at him. He pulled out a book from his bag and buried himself in its pages, avoiding further conversation. Deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that his friends didn't understand him as well as he thought they did. They were supposed to be on his side! But for now, he decided to focus on what he could control: his own actions.

The train continued rattling down scenic landscapes, hurtling towards Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione were talking about Hogsmeade, which caused another pang in Harry's heart. He was looking forward to visiting Hogsmeade, but his ghastly relatives hadn't signed his permission slip. 'Maybe Professor McGonagall would help,' Harry thought, but immediately sobered up. 'Nah… When has she ever listened to even a single complaint I make.'

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

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

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

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor.

Professor Lupin gave a snort.

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

"New teacher," said Harry in a bored tone, continuing to leaf through his new book. "You were saying something, Malfoy?"

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

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Ron sat down again, massaging his knuckles. He soon turned on Harry. "Why didn't you say anything to defend my mother, Harry? How could you just let Malfoy insult her like that!"

Hermione, sensing the rising tension, quickly intervened. "Ron, calm down," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not worth getting worked up over Malfoy's petty insults."

Ron shook off Hermione's hand, his temper flaring. "But Harry should have said something!" he insisted, his voice rising.

Harry looked up from his book, his expression impassive. "Why bother, Ron?" he replied coolly. "It's always the same with Malfoy. He taunts us, you react, and then it just escalates. I'm tired of playing his games."

Ron's face turned red with anger. "So, what, you're just going to let him insult us without doing anything?" he demanded.

"It's not about letting him insult us, Ron," Harry shot back. "It's about not giving him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of us. We've got bigger things to worry about than Malfoy's childish taunts."

Before Ron could come up with a retort, the train started slowing down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

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

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry - d'you know what's going on? - Ouch - sorry"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea - sit down -"

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

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice. Harry felt her pass him, heard 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 -"

'Was she really?' Harry thought sarcastically. 'Or has she just come here to be closer to her hero when she does something stupid again so I am forced to "save" her again?'

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" said Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner.

None of them spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, grey face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a 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 contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water...

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart...

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in the cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't... a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him -

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping his face.

"W - what?"

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking - the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that - that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale.

"But I heard screaming -"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

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

Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else.

"One of the dementors of Azkaban."

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

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I Don't get it... What happened?" said 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"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching –"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," said 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," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her. Harry tried, he really tried to feel bad for her. But no matter what, he could not convince herself. This was the same girl who had last year decided to stupidly write away her life to a young Voldemort who used her to release a monster in the one place which felt like home to him.

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know..."

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.

The rest of the minutes crawled for Harry. 'This has to be a new record altogether. Not even at Hogwarts, and I could have almost died.'

Harry's mind raced back through the years, each moment flashing vividly before his eyes like scenes from a nightmare.

The first Quidditch match, when Quirrellmort had almost successfully cursed his broom to fling him off.

The harrowing gauntlet at the end of his first year, with Fluffy, the Devil's Snare, the winged keys, the chess set and the poisons, not to mention coming face to face with Voldemort himself.

Dobby's tampering with the Bludger during his second year, which resulted in him being knocked off his broom and nearly falling to his death.

The encounter with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, where he battled the monstrous serpent and stared death in the face.

Confronting Tom Riddle, the memory of Voldemort's teenage self.

And then there was Lucius Malfoy, who had almost cast a killing curse at him in a fit of rage when he had freed Dobby.

As these memories flooded his mind, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and abandonment. Isn't Hogwarts supposed to be the safest school? Yet, time and time again, he had faced death and danger with little to no support from the adults around him.

Dumbledore, who kept sending him back to the Dursleys, subjecting him to neglect and abuse.

Snape, who did nothing but constantly belittle and torment him, showing no ounce of compassion or understanding.

McGonagall, his House Head, who never listened to him, dismissing his concerns and struggles without a second thought.

As the train rumbled on towards Hogwarts, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of disillusionment. He had always believed in the inherent goodness of the adults around him, but now, he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly on his own in this fight against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

As Harry's mind delved deeper into the darkness, a seed of bitterness began to take root within him.

Why should he fight for this world? His parents had sacrificed themselves so he could live, but what kind of life had he been given in return? Ten years of abandonment and emotional torment at the hands of the Dursleys, who had treated him as nothing more than a burden and a nuisance. Their cruelty had left scars that ran deeper than any physical wound, scars that still haunted him to this day.

And what had he received for his sacrifices? A lifetime of danger and near-death experiences, all in the name of a world that seemed determined to drag him down into the abyss. From the moment he had set foot in Hogwarts, he had been thrust into one perilous situation after another, forced to confront dark forces that threatened to consume him at every turn.

Was this really the life his parents had wanted for him? To be constantly on the brink of death, fighting battles that weren't his to fight? Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal and anger. Why should he continue to put his life on the line for a world that had given him nothing but pain and suffering in return?

As the train rolled on towards Hogwarts, Harry found himself grappling with these dark thoughts, unsure of where his loyalties truly lay. Would he continue to fight for a world that had failed him time and time again, or would he finally break free from the chains of destiny and forge his own path forward? Only time would tell.

AN: Well, we are back with another story. We are finally doing a standalone Harry Potter fanfic this time- no crossovers. A small disclaimer, this is going to be our take on a dark, gritty Harry Potter storyline, with a strong emphasis on politics and how the political game is played.

A lot of the sequences for this chapter are picked verbatim from HP . We have tried to augment the scenes with internal commentary and thoughts. Moreover, some of the dialogues have been changed to add a bit more nuance to the characters.

For people interested in Rïsa abr du skulblaka, that story is under development, and we are sorry to say that the next update might take some time.

This story is going to be updated sporadically. We will still keep our main focus on writing and updating The Chosen One(s) & Triumvirate.

Cheers

Dragonstaff and Technomage