Thanks again to ChuckTheElf for beta reading this for me.

Chapter 13: Parselmouths and Dementors

By mid-August, Holly had come to know Diagon Alley like the back of her hand and quickly settled into a daily routine. The Alley was almost like a Wizarding city, bustling and full of life, compared to the Burrow, which was much homier and rural. Unlike the Burrow, magic was used by all the denizens, and casting spells were as common as walking. Holly added the commonplace magic to the practical education she was receiving. One could only learn such things through experience, by being in the thick of it, like the price up-mark between owl order and paying in person, the difference between Hogwarts robes and posher dress robes, and the complexity of Ancient Runes.

Runes, she discovered, were more than just an ancient language that Muggles had long since abandoned. Combined with Charms and Transfiguration, they could create feats of magic that stood the test of time. Hogwarts was once such an example; hidden inside its walls were rows and columns of cuneiform that Rowena Ravenclaw herself had carved, embedded with protective magic.

Another instance came in one of Ron's many letters. During the Weasleys' trip to Egypt, he remarked that the ancient wizards often combined three or more languages for enhanced protection and deadly effect, making curse-breaking both rewarding and dangerous. Some of the runes were so ancient, Ron had said, that even Bill's oldest co-workers weren't entirely sure what they were.

Of course, Ancient Runes weren't the only thing they talked about. Ron had asked about Alex—That Muggle friend of yours hasn't been bothering you about Hogwarts, has he?—to which she had lied, telling him that they hadn't been talking much.

It wasn't exactly a lie, per se... they weren't talking much, but it was more Alex's fault than hers. If he couldn't be honest, then she wouldn't force him to be.

Holly wanted dearly to discuss the matter with Ron and Hermione, but she knew that they wouldn't understand. If Hermione had any friends pre-Hogwarts, she'd certainly cut them off due to the Statute of Secrecy by now. And Ron always had his family—and, in absence of that, there were other wizarding families nearby to socialize with.

Her friendship with Alex was fundamentally different. He'd known about magic almost from the start, seeing her accidental magic and later purposeful spells. The revelation that his mum was a Squib was simply the icing on the cake.

Plus, with all the wizarding books he had access to, Alex knew more than he really should have.

Not to mention Eternal Elixirs...

She and Alex weren't just friends; they were business partners, and the business involved magic. Telling Ron or Hermione could lead to Alex and his family losing not only their knowledge of magic and Eternal Elixirs but the foundation of their friendship. Holly could easily imagine things going back to how it was before she befriended him. Sure, she had Ron and Hermione, Tracey, and Justin; even Colin wasn't so bad now that he was acting reasonably, but letters couldn't make up meeting them in person regularly. It couldn't replace going to a friend's house and eating dinner with them, or sleepovers that lasted from dusk 'till dawn. If he lost knowledge of magic, then the heart of their friendship would crumble. And even though she could tell him about magic again if she truly dared, knowing about magic wouldn't make up for erased memories of actually experiencing it for years.

So she couldn't tell anyone. Which meant this was something she had to work out entirely on her own.

After reading Ron's correspondence for the third time, Holly reluctantly looked up from her spot in the Leaky Cauldron. Breakfast had come and gone, and some of the old folks were enjoying elevenses when the pub door opened from the Muggle side. The boy that emerged wore ill-fitting black robes—as she had asked him to—concealing his Muggleness from view. A red knapsack rested on his shoulder looking as empty as could be.

Grinning at the sight of him, Holly waved, hoping to get his attention. "Alex!" she whisper-shouted, standing. "Over here!"

Alex's eyes widened in recognition; he joined her and they quickly embraced. "How was your trip?" she asked as she sat.

He followed. "It went well," he said, moving his sun-bleached auburn hair off his forehead. "How have you been making out?"

"Brilliantly," she said, having already informed him of the events before and since coming to Diagon Alley. Lowering her voice, she added, "I can cross off getting a snake enclosure from the list."

Alex pretended to shudder. "Thank God for that."

Holly playfully smacked his shoulder, holding back a wince when it stung. It felt as though she had smacked a door. Refocusing, she said, "Want to check out the Alley?"

"Yeah, but first…" He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a wrapped textbook. "A late birthday present."

Holly accepted the book with a raised eyebrow. "You already got me gifts."

"This one might come in handy."

Intrigued, she opened the present to reveal a Study of Ancient Runes carving guide, the sort often used for enchanting objects for long-term use. It would be years before she could really use them, but it wouldn't stop her from marking interesting potential projects.

"How much was this?" asked Holly, admiring the leather cover and cream-coloured parchment.

"Fifteen Galleons."

Three hundred pounds!

Her shock must have shown, because Alex added, "You can't put a price on knowledge."

"Then why sell books?" asked Holly, smirking at the stumped look on Alex's face.

He waved dismissively. "Never mind that," His eyes glanced towards the doors that lead to the Alley proper. "Where to first?"

Holly spent the next few hours taking Alex through a comprehensive tour of Diagon Alley, exploring the flavours that Fortescue had to offer, the extensive trunk selection that Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment had on display, to the rare and obscure potions ingredients from the Apothecary, and, perhaps most importantly, to Madam Malkin's for new robes.

"To help you blend in better," she whispered when the attendants were occupied getting his measurements.

Soon enough, they made their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies. While Holly admired the Firebolt once more, Alex had other ideas.

"How can a Firebolt possibly cost that much more than a Nimbus 2001?" he asked the store manager incredulously as Holly looked over the display model a few feet away.

"Well, it's got that new Redistributed Gravity Charm, you see!" he replied, eagerly guiding him over to the model. "It's a new Charm that the company's founder came up with. Top secret, it is, I reckon he carves the runes himself!"

"Redistributed…Gravity…Charm?" asked Alex as he eyed the Firebolt. "What does that do, exactly?"

"Well, gravity is what makes things want to fall to the ground when you drop 'em. It's somethin' the Muggles come up with. It—"

Alex's interruption was crisp. "Yes," he said, a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm well aware of gravity, thank you."

"Hmmf. Well then, I reckon you know that a normal broom has to fight against gravity while in flight, especially while acceleratin'. But not the Firebolt, though! While the Redistributed Gravity Charm is active, 'down' always refers ta wherever the broomstick is pointed. No drag on acceleration a'tall. It'll make pulling off a Wronski Feint as easy as pulling up on the stick."

Holly's eyebrows shot up in awe. If the salesman was explaining the Charm properly, then the Firebolt Company would have the edge over every other broom company in Europe for years to come.

And by the look on Alex's face, he realized it too. She soon joined the conversation, spending several minutes asking increasingly specific questions about the broomstick, which only made her desire the Firebolt more.

Holly let out a sigh as they finally left the shop much later, the summer sun low in the sky. "One day," she vowed, taking one last glance at the display model.

Alex was far more skeptical. "Only if we get our profits to where they need to be."

"Oh, they will." That was a promise. "Tracey and I will go down there once school starts," she told him as they ventured back to the Leaky Cauldron, keeping things vague around the early evening crowds.

"And how do you know she'll keep her word?"

"Magical contract," said Holly. "Verified by a solicitor on parchment. The contract is void when all the parts are harvested and sold."

It was quite an experience, visiting a magical solicitor. Part of her assumed that the goblins would handle that sort of thing, seeing that they were already in charge of the banking system. But goblin law was much more unforgiving, so wizards and witches had devised their own way of honouring contracts. Still, she wasn't looking forward to using a Blood Quill again. Her right hand still twinged with phantom pain.

Alex hummed, thankfully dropping the subject.

Dinner proved to be a relatively uneventful affair. The fading twilight barely pierced the Inn's grimy windows, but that didn't stop the teens from enjoying a satisfactory dinner of steak and kidney pie with butterbeer. In a quiet corner enveloped with Silencing charms, Holly had described her new potions innovations, such as reducing the amount of unicorn hair that the Beautification potion required—two strands of hair rather than an entire lock from Hagrid's stash—turning the bright, rainbow-toned potion into a Muggle-friendly iridescent swirl of colour; applying instead of consuming said potion turned heads for sure, but it was a very mild effect compared to its stronger, more magical cousin.

Alex had shored up all the production details on his end. His father and he had discussed recyclable components and packaging and had signed small-scale, temporary contracts for said containers from vendors. They were also putting out feelers with Justin's family, who were extremely interested in funding the production of Essence of Dittany and Mane-Gro in particular.

It was when puddings arrived that the pleasant conversation took a grim turn.

"I asked Mum more about Sirius Black," began Alex as he cut into his chocolate sponge.

Holly took a bite of her treacle tart. Black, she found, had been like a lingering foul odour in the Wizarding world. He had killed thirteen people with a single curse, including his friend Peter Pettigrew, and laughed at the sight of the bodies before he was arrested twelve years prior. "Go on."

"Well…there's a rumour going around that Black is after you."

Suddenly her treacle tart didn't seem so appetizing. "What?"

Alex explained: "Mum has some old friends in the Ministry," he said, setting down his fork. "The Minister thinks he escaped to come after you."

"But Black's been locked up for over a decade," said Holly with a frown. "Why would he escape now? I mean, why not when I was five or eight or ten?" It just didn't make sense to her. Of course, a thirteen-year-old witch was no match for a fully-grown wizard, but why would he wait until she had a better chance of defending herself?

"Don't tell me you think you can take him."

Holly rolled her eyes at his doubtful look. How thick did he think she was? "Of course I can't take him. But being locked up in any prison, worst of all, Azkaban, well…" The prison's reputation was not a pretty one.

"Still, promise me you won't go after him."

"I won't," she said. "There's too much going on this year to be chasing after some madman." A change of topic was in order. "So, I've been thinking about how to schedule everything in a way that won't drive me mad…"

~•~

"Holly! HOLLY!"

She turned around at the familiar voices to find Ron and Hermione waving at her from a table at Fortescue's. With a grin, she quickly joined them.

"Finally!" said Ron, smiling at Holly as she sat down in between them. Hermione looked very tanned, and Ron looked...well, different. He seemed to have grown and put on a bit of muscle during his time in Egypt. And he had gotten a tan—or at least what people with his skin tone had after a long time in the sun. His freckles stood out rather more prominently against his skin, and his hair seemed to get darker with age.

She was wondering if that was typical of redheads when Ron's voice brought her back to the present: "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and—"

"I got all my school stuff last week," she told them, hoping they hadn't noticed her inattention. "And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," said Ron simply.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Holly?" asked Hermione in a serious tone.

Holly reddened while Ron roared with laughter. "I didn't mean to," she explained. "I just lost my temper."

Now that she had the time to think about it, the whole ordeal was rather embarrassing. While she didn't regret her words, she wished she had done something cooler, like turning Marge red or making her voice her every thought.

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

"So am I," admitted Holly, trying not to laugh at Hermione's choice of words. "Hell, forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." She looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still chuckling. "Famous Holly Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"Excellent! So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

They nodded.

"What's all that, Hermione?" she asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"But I thought you weren't going to take Divination?" asked Holly, confused. "Remember? We chose our electives together."

"Well, what if Divination really is important? I don't want to dismiss a class that might be useful without seeing it for myself."

Holly rose an eyebrow and was about to respond, but Ron beat her to it. "What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" he said, rolling his eyes with a quick can-you-believe-it glance at Holly. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"Not to mention the professor," added Holly.

"The new professor is a Muggle-born witch," said Hermione. "I saw her setting up her office a few weeks ago. And it'll be fascinating to see Muggles from a wizarding point of view."

In Holly's opinion, Divination and Muggle Studies seemed like a waste of time, but it was Hermione's choice. Still, she couldn't help but add, "Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year?"

Ron chuckled, but Hermione ignored them with the ease of long practice. After a quick discussion, Holly, Ron, and Hermione made their way to The Magical Menagerie, which smelled just as bad as the apothecary and sounded as noisy as the Gryffindor Common Room after a winning Quidditch match. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that the counter-witch could do for Scabbers. After Ron purchased a rat tonic, they explored the shop while waiting for Hermione to select her owl, avoiding a grumpy ginger cat as it rattled its cage.

"Cheer up, Ron. If you want a new pet, I'm sure your parents can spare a few Galleons, especially since the school is paying for our books." She looked at the dancing rats again. "There's plenty of options."

"It's not about that," said the redhead quietly as he looked at a window.

Holly frowned. "Then what is it?"

"Well, Scabbers has been in the family for close to a decade, and, well…"

Realization dawned over her. How could she forget that? "Oh."

"It just wouldn't be right, replacing him like that straight off." Ron was still looking out the window, but his ears were a tell-tale red and he patted at his chest pocket—where Scabbers slept—gently. "It's barmy, isn't it?"

Holly dug her shoe into the floor. "I don't think it is." She'd only had Hedwig for a little over two years and couldn't imagine her passing one day. Scabbers had been with the Weasleys for as long as Ron could probably remember and although he'd never admit it, Holly knew Ron cared more about the old rat more than he let on. "We can still look around," she offered. "You don't have to choose a new pet right now."

Ron reluctantly agreed, and they moved further and further into the store, gawking at the exotic creatures on display.

"I've had enough of snakes to last a lifetime," said Ron as they approached the Serpent Section. Hidden in the very back of the shop, the snakes on display were colourful, magical, and deadly.

Puny humans, not a speaker among them, hissed one from its tank, curling up on a grey rock illuminated by yellow light.

Holly rolled her eyes. "Come on Ron, Hermione's probably got her owl by now…" she trailed off at Ron's expression. "Ron?"

The redhead was still, as if he had heard something he shouldn't have. "Holly?" he whispered. "I can hear them."

She blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I can hear them," repeated Ron, louder and with a hint of hysteria. "I can hear the…the snakes."

Frowning, Holly scanned their immediate vicinity to make sure no one was nearby. Looking at what she hoped was a non-venomous snake flicking its tongue benignly at the glass, Holly gently picked it up and allowed it to curl around her arm.

"Say something to him," she asked politely, watching the redhead carefully.

The small snake cocked its head sideways as it looked at Ron. "Something."

A reluctant snort emerged from him, confirming her suspicions. Ron took several shuddering breaths. "Bloody hell. I'm a Parselmouth."

"There's nothing wrong with being one," said Holly as she put the serpent back. "It's really not that bad."

"I don't want to be one!"

Holly crossed her arms and huffed. "Well."

Ron looked somewhere between anxious and apologetic. "It's just…" He paused, uneasy as he ran a hand through his hair. "It reminds me of him."

Dumbledore's words came flooding back in the silence that fell. Holly reached under her fringe to rub her scar absentmindedly. It seemed that while Ron had fought off Voldemort's spirit successfully, the diary had left something behind.

But Ron didn't seem to want to dwell on the matter. "Want to head back?" He gestured awkwardly to the front.

She agreed and they made their way back. "Do you want to tell Hermione? She might know if there's something that can be done…"

He firmly shook his head.

Holly frowned, but at the end of the day, it was Ron's ability to share. Had she known how stigmatized being a Parselmouth was, she would have been more cautious with it. Luckily for him, he had a choice.

She also wasn't eager to be the one to tell Hermione about the Parselmouth connection. That would inevitably lead to the full truth of what happened in the Chamber coming out, which would only upset her.

Plus, it would be rather hypocritical of Holly to push, given everything she was up to.

"What is that?" asked Ron, when they finally found Hermione outside Magical Menagerie, her arms clamped tightly around an enormous ginger cat. Her hold seemed to tighten once she saw them.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

Holly was immediately reminded of Ms Figg's cats, except this one was much more…grouchy-looking, with a squished face and thick fur. "Er…"

But Ron was in full force now. "And what about Scabbers?" he asked, pointing at the sleeping lump in his chest pocket. The cat had shaken its cage the entire time the witch was looking over Scabbers, something he hadn't failed to notice. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."

"I wonder why," said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

~•~

The last day of summer passed quickly. On the morning of September first, Holly had risen with the sun, its light warming her as she packed her things. After persuading a disgruntled Hedwig back into her cage, she sat on her bed, pondering whether or not to go down alone or wait for the others.

Or should I just talk to them about what I heard? Holly sighed. It was just as Alex and his mum had assumed. Black was after her, confirmed by the elder Weasleys themselves. She hadn't intended on eavesdropping on their conversation last night; it just happened. It was like accidental magic, but she hadn't been emotional when it occurred. One second she was trying to sleep, the next she was overhearing them talking about Black; the next, hearing some…interesting sounds from other guests.

Heat rising to her face, Holly tried to pretend she heard none of it.

Still, at least one of them felt the need to clue her in. Mrs Weasley's intentions were good, but not knowing the truth would put her in greater danger. Forewarned was forearmed after all. She supposed Alex might have had a point about wanting to be seen as mature. Being treated like a child meant low expectations, but a lot more coddling. Why else would the Ministry and the Weasleys go to such lengths to make sure she was safe?

What bothered Holly most was the fact that running her end of Eternal Elixirs would be near impossible. She couldn't visit Hogsmeade to buy more ingredients, Hedwig would probably be watched as well as her letters, and Holly suspected her every move would be monitored carefully until Black was caught.

Holly scowled. The year hadn't even started and it was already going downhill. Seeing no other option she sent Alex a quick message before she fit the last of her things into her trunk. She also made a note to tell Ron and Hermione of the new development.

Packing complete, she had little other choice but to make her way downstairs where Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley were eating breakfast. None of the other Weasleys was in sight.

Holly bit her lip. She had never interacted with the three of them alone in the past. But before she could change her mind and creep back upstairs, the Weasley matriarch saw her.

"Holly! There you are, won't you join us?"

There's nothing for it. Holly nodded and settled down next to Hermione.

Mrs Weasley set an empty plate in front of her. "Did you sleep well, Holly?"

She nodded again, beginning to serve herself toast, eggs, and crispy bacon. Maybe Percy will be down next, she thought, hoping to be saved from any womanly conversation.

Luckily, while Percy didn't show, Mr Weasley came down to her rescue, sitting next to his wife with a newspaper in tow.

To Hermione's left, Ginny set down her fork with a clatter. "Mum, Dad, do you reckon I could get a hair colour-changing potion? Nothing permanent. Please?"

Mr Weasley folded down his newspaper and looked across at his daughter. "Why, firecracker?"

Ginny looked down, fingering the ends of her bright ginger hair silently. Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "She wants a change."

Holly looked between the two, her curiosity piqued. But Mrs Weasley interjected: "No sense in changing your hair colour for some boy. You're far too young for that."

"Now Molly, I seem to remember a certain young girl who changed herself rather significantly for 'some boy,'" said Mr Weasley, his lips twitching. "And one can't forget the love potion…"

Mrs Weasley went pink. "Oh Arthur, that was a long time ago."

This was enough to engage Ginny again. "Tell us, Mum!"

Hermione and Holly shared a look. Both of them had heard about love potions—they shared a dorm with Lavender and Parvati, after all—but Holly had no desire to brew or use them. Why would she? Her short-lived experience with Justin had taught her that attraction wasn't something that should be forced.

"Well, it was during my fourth year," began Mrs Weasley, pouring milk into her tea. "A few other girls and I had the foolish idea of brewing a weak love potion from Witch Weekly. Nothing serious, mind, just enough to draw a second glance from whoever gave them the potion. But when it came down to it, none of us were brave enough to actually go through with it, and we all forgot about it."

"Or so you thought," said Mr Weasley when his wife paused to take a sip. "But Gideon and Fabian had other ideas."

Mrs Weasley shook her head in exasperated fondness. "My younger brothers got a hold of the potion on Valentine's day and spiked his morning porridge..."

"And the rest is history." Mr and Mrs Weasley clasped hands.

Ginny and Hermione giggled; Holly gave a weak smile before quickly eating the last of her breakfast. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Ron, Percy, and the Twins joined them. Tuning out the sounds of their disagreement, Holly pondered on Mrs Weasley's story. Love potions were a lot more dangerous than she thought—even the so-called "weak" ones. There was one thing for certain, though—Eternal Elixirs would never market those sorts of potions.

~•~

It wasn't until after she had boarded the Express that Holly was finally able to talk to her friends.

"I need to talk to you two in private," muttered Holly to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

Ron gave Ginny a pointed look.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny with a huff, and she stalked off.

Holly exchanged a surprised glance with Hermione—Ron had handled that rather well, hadn't he?—before the three of them set off down the corridor back to the compartment they selected earlier. In their absence, however, a man had occupied it, fast asleep next to the window. With no other options, the three settled in.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

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

"How'd you know that?"

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"Our new Defence teacher," said Holly.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" he turned to her, "what were you going to tell us?"

Holly explained all about Mr and Mrs Weasley's argument the previous night, as well as Mr Weasley's ill-timed warning a few minutes before. When she finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Holly… you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble!"

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Holly, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"And besides, Holly knows better than to risk trouble for no good reason," said Ron, giving her a reassuring smile.

Holly weakly returned it, pushing the thought of Eternal Elixirs to the back of her mind. "Right."

Luckily, they didn't seem to notice her internal conflict. Ron took out his wand and with a non-verbal flick performed a Cushioning charm on all the seats.

"Someone's been practising," said Holly, impressed at the newfound softness.

Ron grinned. "Bill showed me how. Those Egyptian cots were bloody terrible."

Holly rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Really? I must have forgotten after the tenth time."

With another silent wave, Ron floated down his trunk and set his feet upon it. Hermione made a noise of disapproval.

"What?"

"Must you wave that around all the time?" Hermione crossed her arms.

Holly rose an eyebrow but said nothing, not willing to be drawn into another Ron-Hermione squabble.

Ron gave a shrug. "It's my first real wand. 'Course I'm going to wave it around." Then, to prove the point, he waved it again.

A devious thought came to mind; Holly's lips twitched as she turned to Hermione. "You know boys and their wands, Hermione. They just can't help playing with them."

As she expected, Ron's ears turned red. "Shut up!"

"What?" said Holly innocently.

But Hermione didn't take the bait. "Will you two continue practising non-verbal magic together?"

Ron waved his wand again, and a golden ball of light came to life. "I reckon I won't have to. I mean, my wand works, doesn't it?"

Hermione gave a satisfied smile. Holly felt strangely disappointed. Teaching Ron had taken up the time she could have used for brewing, but she'd miss the one-on-one time they spent together.

Ron extinguished the light before turning to her excitedly. "Hey, with all the free time I'll have, I can get back to beating you at chess."

Maybe not then. Holly snorted. "Yeah, maybe, if you aren't too busy polishing your wand every night."

"Oi! I only do it twice a week!"

"Twice a week? What wand are you talking about?" said Holly with a straight face, and made a show of looking him up and down.

Ron turned tomato red and refused to look at either of them before Holly burst out laughing.

Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "Honestly, you two are so immature!"

Holly coughed as her laughter faded. "Well, yeah," she said with a shrug, no longer offended by Hermione's caustic words. "You have almost ten months on me and five and a half on Ron. Of course we're going to be immature in comparison."

"I reckon you'll just have to wait for us to catch up to you," said Ron with a grin, his face now a fading pink.

Hermione simply huffed.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backwards and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had been let out and had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned towards Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket. At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" asked Ron awkwardly, proving he was his mother's child as he nodded towards the sleeping Professor. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously. "Er—Professor?" she said. "Excuse me—Professor?" He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch, as she handed Holly 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?" said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean—he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, he's breathing," whispered Hermione, taking the cauldron cakes Holly passed her.

Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favourite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

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

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 clenched his fist but didn't otherwise react. Holly, on the other hand, scoffed at the annoying blond. "Isn't Parkinson looking for you?"

Malfoy's eyes widened, surprise clear on his face, but he schooled his expression quickly. "She has no reason to worry about me. Pansy knows it's—"

Professor Lupin gave a snort.

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

"Our new Defence professor," said Hermione dryly. "What were you saying, 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 let out a deep breath. "I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and—" He made a violent gesture in mid-air.

"Relax Ron," said Holly, suppressing a yawn. "Malfoy's full of hot air. Just ignore him."

"He better not have any electives with us," muttered Ron.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, and the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

The professor seemed to have the right idea. Finally giving into her desire for rest, Holly cracked her knuckles. "Budge up," she said to Ron.

He did so, allowing Holly to curl into a ball and sleep on the still-Cushioned seats.

It felt like she had only slept for a moment before she was jerked awake by falling face first, her glasses digging into the bridge of her nose. Then, before she could get her bearings, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What the hell?" she asked groggily, trying to get up from the floor.

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

Holly felt her way back to her seat. "What's going on? Are we there?"

"No…" There was a squeaking sound, and she 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…"

"Can someone cast Lumos?" she asked, unable to find her wand and unwilling to cast a wandless spell.

"Lumos," muttered Hermione. A glowing sphere floated up like a helium balloon, filling the compartment with a dim yellow light. Ron repeated the spell with a flick, adequately lighting the compartment.

It was just as well, too. The door was suddenly pulled open, revealing a flushed Neville with Ginny right behind him, who quickly joined them.

"Are you alright, Neville?" asked Hermione, setting Crookshanks on her lap to make room for him.

Neville nodded.

"Yours' is the only compartment properly lit for ages," said Ginny as she closed the compartment door, shutting the dark corridor from view. "Who's that?"

"Professor Lupin," said Ron after a glance at the still-sleeping man.

"I thought Professors didn't ride the Express?" asked Neville.

Holly shrugged.

The compartment door rattled.

"Oh, who is it now?" asked Ginny.

"It'd better not be Malfoy again," said Ron.

Holly, having found her wand, pointed it at the door. "Colloportus!" The door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise. She nodded in satisfaction. "There, now no one's getting in."

"Couldn't do that non-verbally, could you?" asked Hermione dryly, who had been watching her casting closely.

"Non-verbally?" Neville looked pale. "That's sixth-year material, isn't it?"

"Well Holly's the Girl-Who-Lived, of course she'd be able to do it."

"Oi!" started Ron with a glare at Ginny, "I just did it—"

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly. In the midst of their arguing, Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last.

None of them spoke.

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

Cool, Holly thought, eying the red flames. I've got to learn how to do that.

"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 dying globes above and the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Holly's eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her 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 Holly'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. Holly felt her own breath catch in her chest. The cold went deeper than her skin. It was inside her veins, her chest, it was inside her very heart…

It was an unfamiliar sensation, of failing to stay conscious despite best attempts. Her body couldn't take it anymore; her eyes rolled up into her head.

But unlike with the basilisk, slumber would not come. No, instead of the nothingness of sleep or the joy of dreams, Holly felt ice cold. She couldn't see. There was a rushing sound as though of a running tap. Something was pulling her down, the rushing growing louder and louder.

She tried to move her arms as if to swim her way out of the thick, white fog that the water had become, but it felt like running through oil, weighing her down. Screams in the background were pounding against her skull—

"Holly! Holly! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping her face.

"W-what?"

She opened her eyes; the lanterns had re-lit, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving. She seemed to have slid out of her seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling beside her, and above them, she could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching.

Holly felt ill; when she put up her hand to push her glasses back on, she felt cold sweat collecting on her forehead.

Ron and Hermione heaved her back onto her seat.

"Are you okay?" asked Ron, his right arm crossed with her left.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," said Holly, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed, Holly," said Ron, looking at her anxiously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Holly looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at her, 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 Holly, handing her a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

She took the chocolate but didn't eat it. "What was that thing?" she asked again.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors that guard Azkaban."

Holly sat in stunned silence, barely hearing his voice as he announced his intentions to speak to the driver. Conversation washed over her; Hermione shared the blow-by-blow details of what happened after she passed out, and the others described their experiences with the guard.

But Holly couldn't shake her discomfort. "Didn't any of you—fall off your seats?"

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at her again. His arm was still entwined with hers.

"Ron was shaking like mad, though…" added Ginny, and while he tensed, Ron didn't deny the statement.

Holly didn't understand. She felt weak and shivery, as though she were recovering from a bad bout of flu; she also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had she gone to pieces like that, when no one else had? How could she faint? This wasn't like the basilisk the previous year; the Dementor hadn't even touched her and she'd made a fool of herself.

Worse still was how everyone was watching her, as if she were about to collapse at any moment.

Holly bit into her chocolate sullenly.

Yes, this year is definitely going downhill.