The platform buzzed with its usual pre-term chaos. Steam curled from the scarlet engine like a sleeping dragon rousing to life, and the crowd shifted in pockets of laughter, last-minute hugs, and barking trunks. Crookshanks had decided he detested the trolley cart, and was making his opinion loudly known as Hermione tugged his carrier toward the train.

"He's not going to bite the Honeydukes cart," Harry said, grinning. "Well. Probably not."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "You know he can hear you."

Neville caught up with them near the third carriage, slightly pink-faced but grinning. "Gran says good luck and to write. And also not to disgrace the family, but she always says that."

"You'll be brilliant," Hermione said. "Especially with that new wand."

"Feels odd," Neville admitted. "Like it belongs and doesn't at the same time. But it listens. That's new."

They claimed an empty compartment near the rear of the train, large enough for the four of them—Hermione, Harry, Neville, and Ron—who joined them ten minutes later with a scowl and a bag of liquorice wands.

"Mum made us repack twice," Ron groaned. "And Percy kept lecturing Ginny about posture, of all things. It's a miracle we're on time."

He dropped into the seat opposite Harry and immediately brightened. "Egypt was brilliant, though. First proper holiday we've ever had. Bill showed us the tombs he works on—loads of curses and ancient runes. Fred and George tried to smuggle home a cursed ring. Mum nearly hexed them on the spot."

Neville leaned forward, curious. "What was it like? The tombs, I mean."

"Hot. Dry. Mad impressive," Ron said. "You'd love it, Hermione—there were hieroglyphs and cursed scrolls and a sphinx statue that asked riddles. Even Percy got excited."

Harry smiled. "Sounds like the kind of trip the Dursleys would've locked me in the cupboard over."

Ron blinked. "Yeah, about that—why weren't you with them this summer? You were on your own, weren't you? At the Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry met his gaze evenly. "Things changed. I've got someone looking out for me now."

Hermione added quietly, "We both do."

Ron looked between them, eyebrows rising. "Wait, like... a proper someone? A magical guardian?"

Harry nodded. "It's a bit complicated, but yes. Official now."

"And no one thought to mention this in a letter?" Ron asked, only half-joking. "Blimey. What happened?"

Hermione gave a small shake of her head. "It's a long story, Ron. We'll explain everything when we've got a bit more time."

Ron was still looking between them when Neville piped up, trying to redirect. "Gran only just let me get a new wand, you know. After two years of me using Dad's. Said I had to prove I wasn't a squib first."

Harry glanced at him. "She really thought you were?"

Neville gave a sheepish shrug. "Great Uncle Algie dangled me out a window once. To see if I'd bounce."

Hermione gasped. "That's appalling!"

Neville just shrugged again. "It worked. But still. New wand's got some give. Rowan and unicorn hair. Feels... right."

They lapsed into a companionable silence as the train began to pick up speed.

"So," Ron said, stretching out his legs, "you reckon Sirius Black'll come after you at school, Harry?"

Hermione frowned. "Ron—"

"What? Everyone's thinking it. Mum was talking to Dad about it—something about a connection between Black and... and you."

Harry didn't flinch. "There is. And I've got protection. I'm not alone this year."

Neville looked a little pale. "He broke out of Azkaban. No one's ever done that before."

"And they've got Dementors searching for him now," Ron added. "Saw one hovering at the edge of the platform before we got on. Creepy things."

"We probably shouldn't talk about them here," Hermione said, glancing toward the dozing figure near the window. "Let's change the subject."

"Hogsmeade, then," Neville offered. "You've got permission, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "All signed. I'll get to go for once."

"Fred and George say Zonko's is brilliant. Full of stuff Filch would ban on sight."

Hermione looked unimpressed. "Let's try not to end up in detention before Halloween."

Crookshanks chose that moment to spring from his carrier in a blur of ginger fur, launching himself at Ron's bag, where Scabbers had been hiding.

"Oi! Get off!" Ron scrambled backward as Crookshanks swatted, teeth bared. Scabbers gave a panicked squeak and bolted under the bench.

Hermione dove forward. "Crookshanks, no!"

Harry grabbed Crookshanks by the scruff and pulled him back. The cat growled but relented.

Ron stood, furious. "This cat's a menace! And you just let him attack my rat?"

"He's a cat, Ron. He's got instincts."

"He's got issues," Ron snapped. "That rat's been with me since I was a kid."

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think Scabbers has looked right since Egypt. Might be the heat. Or the scarab beetles."

Hermione huffed. "It's not Crookshanks' fault he smells something odd about Scabbers. Cats know things."

Harry tried to mediate. "Maybe we could just give them both a bit of space."

As the mood teetered on the edge of more tension, the compartment door opened again.

Draco Malfoy leaned in, cool and smirking. "Weasley causing a scene already? And we haven't even reached Hogsmeade. Must be a record."

He caught sight of Lupin—ragged robes, patched elbows, quietly dozing near the window, a briefcase labeled R.J. Lupin resting at his side.

Draco hesitated. The teacher's presence stalled him, the smirk faltering just slightly.

"You know," Harry said slowly, "there's a difference between teasing and throwing fuel on a fire that's already lit."

Draco blinked.

"I'm not saying Ron's perfect. But not everything needs to turn into a duel."

Draco raised a brow, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. "Is this the part where you lecture me about house unity and holding hands?"

Harry snorted. "Hardly. Just—look, things are different this year. For all of us."

Draco tilted his head. "And you're suddenly what—Head Boy in training?"

"I've just... had time to think. That's all." Harry's tone was mild. "And I've learned that what we say at Hogwarts doesn't always stay there. It follows you. Into the Wizengamot. Into business. Into alliances."

Draco studied him with a faint, unreadable expression.

Hermione watched silently, lips pressed together. Neville glanced between them, visibly uncomfortable but saying nothing.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "Well. You sound more like a Black than a Potter these days."

Harry stiffened but didn't rise to the bait. "Maybe I'm both."

Draco didn't reply. He glanced again at Lupin—still asleep—and then at Hermione, who met his gaze coolly.

"I'll be watching," Draco said, and turned away. A few seconds later, his footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The door clicked shut.

Neville let out a breath. "That wasn't terrible."

Harry slouched in his seat, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "No. Just... weird."

Then, with no warning, the train groaned to a halt.

The lights flickered.

The warmth in the compartment fled like a breath snatched from a lung. Frost crept across the windows in spidery patterns, and the temperature plunged so quickly Harry felt it in his bones.

Neville shivered, teeth already chattering. "What—why are we stopping?"

Hermione's wand was already in her hand.

Harry reached for his, but his fingers were stiff, clumsy. A chill unlike anything he'd known seeped into his chest.

The door slid open with a soft hiss.

The figure that entered floated rather than walked, its movements silent, tattered robes trailing like mist. The Dementor's presence swallowed all light and sound. The air grew thick. Weighted.

Harry heard the scream.

Not in the room. Not from anyone near him.

In his head.

High. Terrified.

Mum.

Pain lanced through his temples. The shadows pressed in, drowning, endless. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't—

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice cut through the fog, sharp and desperate.

Her hand found his, clutched tight. She turned slightly, other hand extending toward the creature. Crookshanks hissed from beneath the bench, ears flat, back arched.

Neville gasped, recoiling.

It wasn't a spell. Not yet. Not formed. But something about the way her magic twined with Harry's sparked a reaction.

The Dementor reeled.

A ripple tore across its form. Fragments of shadow tore free like torn cloth in wind. It hissed, twisting.

Then—

"Expecto Patronum!"

The voice was calm. Measured.

A silvery light erupted across the doorway as Lupin rose, wand steady in hand.

The Patronus burst forward—shapeless yet bright, its energy slamming into the creature.

The Dementor shrieked and retreated, robes vanishing like smoke. The door slammed shut behind it.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Lupin lowered his wand.

"Everyone alright?"

Hermione was still clutching Harry's hand. Neville nodded shakily.

Harry blinked hard. "Yeah. I... I think so."

Lupin moved quietly around the compartment, handing out squares of chocolate from a battered silver tin.

"Eat," he instructed. "Now."

Hermione passed Harry his. Her fingers were trembling.

Lupin studied them both for a beat longer.

"You felt it first," he said to Hermione.

She nodded.

"And you," he added to Harry, "were nearly lost in it."

Harry didn't argue. "I heard my mother. Screaming."

Lupin's expression was unreadable. "That will happen. To those with strong memories. Strong ties."

His eyes flicked between them. "But you pulled him back," he told Hermione.

"I just—acted," she said. "We linked, and something happened."

Lupin nodded once, slowly. "We'll talk more about that. Later."

The train gave a low groan and began to move again.

Neville took a shaky bite of chocolate.

Lupin sat back down in his corner.

"Rest while you can," he said gently. "You'll need it."

The silence that followed wasn't just fear. It was the kind of silence that came when you realized the world was far darker than you thought—and you'd only just begun to see it.

When the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station at last, the night was thick with fog and damp cold. Lanterns swayed slightly in the breeze as students stepped out, subdued, their chatter quiet and uncertain.

Professor McGonagall waited by the carriages.

"Potter. Granger. A word, if you please."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and stepped aside with her, their trunks levitating gently behind them.

Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line, though her tone was not unkind. "I understand there was... a disturbance."

Hermione nodded. "A Dementor came into our compartment."

McGonagall's eyes flicked to Harry, her voice softening. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm fine now," he said.

"Professor Lupin responded quickly," McGonagall noted, glancing behind her. "You'll both meet with Madam Pomfrey after the feast—just a routine check."

Lupin gave them a small nod as he passed by, catching Harry's eye. "You handled yourselves well," he said simply. "That wasn't an easy thing."

Harry nodded in return. "Thank you, sir."

McGonagall waited until Lupin was out of earshot before continuing. "Now, about your schedules. I've confirmed your tutors are in place and their availability matches the blocks we've assigned. You'll find your weekly timetables waiting on your beds. Adjustments have been signed off by the Board and finalized for term start."

Hermione's shoulders eased. "Thank you, Professor. For supporting these changes."

McGonagall's expression softened by a fraction. "I've no interest in stifling capable minds. Only in keeping them upright and whole."

There was a long pause as the torches lit along the castle path.

"Go on," she said. "You'll want to find your seats before the Sorting starts."

They followed the crowd toward the castle. The Great Hall doors swung open in a wash of candlelight and warmth.

The House tables were already filling up. Gryffindor's end buzzed with familiar voices—Fred and George leaning back in their seats, Ginny waving frantically, Ron mid-argument with Seamus.

Hermione and Harry slid in beside Neville just as the Sorting Hat finished its last verse.

Dumbledore stood at the podium. His voice was clear, if somewhat more clipped than usual. "Welcome, students. A few start-of-term notices... first, the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden—as always. Secondly, as you may have heard, Dementors are stationed at the boundaries of the school this term. Do not attempt to approach or provoke them."

He waited a beat, his gaze sweeping the room.

"And finally, we welcome a new professor this year. Our very own Rubeus Hagrid will be taking over Care of Magical Creatures."

The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers.

Harry and Hermione clapped too—though more hesitantly.

Hermione leaned in. "I love Hagrid. But teaching?"

Harry grimaced. "He's passionate. Just... maybe not ready for students like Malfoy."

Neville added, "I hope he doesn't assign anything with fangs."

As the golden plates filled and conversation swelled around them, Harry found his gaze drifting to the staff table.

Lupin looked back at him with quiet understanding.

This year was already different.

And it had only just begun.