32. The Dementor
Hope had a restless night, her dreams tangled with memories and fragmented images of her mother. As the morning light crept through the curtains. She stirred, half-conscious, before a firm shake jolted her awake.
"Hope," Hermione's voice came, soft but persistent. "Come on, wake up."
Hope groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
"Five more minutes," she mumbled, her voice muffled.
Hermione huffed, unimpressed. "You don't have five more minutes. Get up."
With that, she yanked the blankets away, leaving Hope shivering in the morning chill.
"Ugh, okay, okay!" Hope pouted, reluctantly pushing herself upright. She rubbed her eyes, letting out a yawn. Hermione gave a satisfied nod and turned to leave.
Markl, Hope's red owl, ruffled his feathers irritably as she approached his cage. "I know, I know," she murmured, giving him a soft stroke. "Come on, you'll be out soon," she said, gently nudging him back inside. His sharp glare could rival any human's.
Hope headed down to breakfast, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from waking up. When George passed by, his usual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Need any help?" he asked, gesturing toward her trunk.
Hope's face warmed. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great."
George easily hoisted the trunk, carrying it down without so much as a stumble. Hope followed, acutely aware of how close she was to him. She fussed with the hem of her sleeve, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. He set it by the door and gave her a quick grin.
"Thanks," she said, her smile lingering.
"Anytime." He nodded before Fred called him away, and she found herself watching George's retreating figure a moment longer than she meant to.
When she turned back, Hermione and Ginny were giving her a curious look. Hope felt her cheeks flush and quickly busied herself, sliding into a seat at the edge of the breakfast table.
"Got everything packed, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her tone warm as she bustled about.
Hope nodded, her stomach twisting. She hadn't meant to, but the conversation from the previous day still gnawed at her. Unable to stop herself, she spoke up.
"Mrs. Weasley," she began carefully, twisting the hem of her sleeve. "Were you... close with my mum?"
Mrs. Weasley's hands stilled for a moment. She blinked, her usual bustling energy faltering. "Oh, yes," she said, her voice softening. "Arabella was wonderful. Smart, kind, always so put together. Quite a contrast from poor Remus, bless him. But the two of them were inseparable."
A fond smile touched her lips. "We became close, too. With Ron and you being the same age, she'd often bring you along for visits. You two were inseparable back then — always off on little adventures."
Hope tried to picture it — her younger self toddling alongside Ron. She wanted to ask more, but before she could, Mrs. Weasley's expression grew distant.
"The last time I saw her was..." Mrs. Weasley hesitated, the words catching. "Well, it was the day she... the day it happened."
Hope's stomach dropped. "Really?"
Mrs. Weasley nodded, twisting a dish towel in her hands. "It was strange. She seemed fine at first. We had tea, chatted about the usual — school, the kids. Then, out of nowhere, she became... anxious."
"Anxious?" Hope asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley murmured. "One moment she was laughing, and the next, it was like she'd remembered something urgent. She started gathering up your things, saying she had to leave. She didn't even finish her tea. Just... hurried off."
Hope swallowed. "Did she say why?"
"No. I asked, of course, but she brushed it off. Said she'd forgotten about something important. I thought it odd, but — well, we all have those days." Mrs. Weasley offered a small, shaky smile, though her eyes glistened. "Later that day, I heard..."
She stopped herself, forcing a brighter expression. "But enough of that. You'll miss breakfast if you don't eat up. Come on, tuck in."
Hermione and Ginny appeared then, each carrying plates of breakfast. The sudden presence seemed to break the tension, and Mrs. Weasley visibly tried to shake off the somber mood.
"All packed then?" she asked, her warm smile returning.
Both girls nodded as they sat down at the table.
"Good. Best to be prepared," Mrs. Weasley said, smoothing her apron.
Hermione wasted no time. Her sharp eyes landed on Hope. "You finished your summer assignments right?"
Hope gave a half-hearted nod, not quite meeting Hermione's gaze. "Mostly."
Hermione frowned, instantly suspicious. "Mostly?"
Hope squirmed under her scrutiny, finally muttering, "Everything but the Potions essay on moonstone properties."
"Hope!" Hermione's voice carried that familiar tone of exasperation.
Hope whined, flopping dramatically against the back of her chair. "It's Potions! It's hard!"
Mrs. Weasley chuckled softly. "Oh, it's not so bad. Potions can be quite useful to know."
"Useful?" Hope repeated skeptically.
"Certainly," Mrs. Weasley said with a twinkle in her eye. "Why, I used to make love potions when I was a young girl."
Ginny's eyes widened in delight. "You did? Did you use one on Dad?"
Mrs. Weasley gasped, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Of course not! Your father didn't need any potions."
The girls giggled, the mood lifting with the warmth of the moment. Even Hope couldn't help but grin, the weight on her chest easing just a little.
Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.
"They're here," he said. "Harry, come on."
Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each driven by a furtive-looking wizard in a suit of emerald velvet.
"In you get, Harry," Mr. Weasley urged, glancing up and down the crowded street.
Harry climbed into the back of the car, soon joined by Hermione, Ron, and Hope.
The journey to King's Cross was uneventful. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, a far cry from the enchanted Weasley car that could stretch to accommodate as many seats as needed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers fetched trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow jumping to the head of an unmoving queue at the traffic lights.
Mr. Weasley stayed close to Harry's elbow as they entered the station, though he occasionally glanced back at Hope, who trailed between Hermione and Ron. The two were mid-bicker, Ron muttering complaints about Crookshanks while Hermione defended the cat.
"Right then," Mr. Weasley said, looking around. "Let's do this in pairs. I'll go through first with Harry."
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and pretending to admire an arriving InterCity 125. With a meaningful glance at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry mimicked him, and the next moment, they fell sideways through the solid metal onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The Hogwarts Express gleamed before them, a scarlet steam engine puffing thick clouds of smoke over the bustling crowd of parents and students.
In pairs, the rest of the group followed. Once everyone had crossed, they made their way toward the end of the train, searching for an empty compartment. Mr. Weasley helped load the trunks while Mrs. Weasley passed out sandwiches wrapped in brown parchment.
Hope's smile faltered as she accepted hers, catching sight of Mr. Weasley pulling Harry aside. She furrowed her brow, a twinge of curiosity settling in her chest. It was probably about Sirius Black.
Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children goodbye, then Hermione, Hope, and finally Harry, he was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.
"Do take care, won't you, Harry?" she said, her eyes slightly too bright.
"I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron... no, they're not corned beef... Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are, dear."
After she passed out all the sandwiches they went to board the train.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley called as the train whistled. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"
"He's coming, Molly!" Mr. Weasley shouted back, finally releasing Harry to the train. The steam billowed as the Hogwarts Express began to move. Harry dashed to the compartment door, and Ron quickly threw it open to let him in. They leaned out the window, waving until the platform and the Weasleys disappeared from view.
"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron, Hope, and Hermione as the train picked up speed.
"Go away, Ginny," Ron said flatly.
"Oh, that's nice," Ginny huffed, rolling her eyes before stalking off.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hope moved down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment. They passed crowded ones until they reached the very last, which held just one occupant.
It was a man, fast asleep next to the window. Not just any man — it was Mr. Lupin, Hope's father. He wore his usual shabby set of wizard's robes, which had been darned in several places.
Ron furrowed his brows, glancing between Hope and Remus.
"Oh, he did mention something about wanting to see the train again," Hope said, casually. She stepped inside and took the seat next to her father. Ron, Hermione, and Harry exchanged confused looks before following her in.
"So... why's your dad on the train?" Ron asked, settling into the seat across from her.
Hermione had glanced up at the luggage rack, her mouth forming an 'o' shape. "He's our professor this year... for defense against the dark arts." Hermione answered as Hope nodded in agreement.
"How'd you know that?" Ron asked, offended. "How come she knows and I don't?"
"It's on his suitcase, Ronald," Hermione said matter-of-factly. pointing at the small, battered case above them. The words 'Professor R. J. Lupin' were stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
"Oh," Ron mumbled, his ears tinged pink.
"I wanted it to be a surprise once we were at the feast," Hope admitted, avoiding their eyes.
"Well, at least we know our teacher this year isn't a fraud or going to try to kill us," Harry said.
"Don't think he could," Ron said, lowering his voice. "Looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?"
Hermione shot him a glare, elbowing him sharply in the side.
Hermione shot him a sharp glare and elbowed him in the side. Hope pretended not to hear, focusing on unwrapping her sandwich from Mrs. Weasley. In truth, she had heard Ron's words. A small frown tugged at her lips, but she wasn't surprised. She'd grown used to people's assumptions about her father
"Anyway," Ron said quickly, trying to recover. "What were you going to tell us, Harry?"
Harry explained all about Mr and Mrs Weasley's argument and the warning Mr Weasley had just given him. When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, Hope's expression was even as she had overheard the conversation earlier with Harry and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. . She finally lowered them to say,
"Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry... you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble."
"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said, bristling. "Trouble usually finds me."
"How thick would Harry have to be to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" Ron said shakily.
They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed far more frightened of Black than he was.
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," Ron said uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner, too."
"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with concern. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too..."
"Harry will be where Dumbledore is," Hope added, trying to ease their nerves. "If Dumbledore's there, Harry can't be touched." She said, reiterating Hermione's words from first year.
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but a faint, tinny whistle interrupted him.
"What's that noise?" he asked, frowning.
They glanced around the compartment until Ron's eyes landed on Harry's trunk.
"It's coming from your trunk," Ron said, standing up. He reached into the luggage rack and pulled out the Pocket Sneakoscope from between Harry's robes. It spun rapidly in the palm of his hand, glowing brilliantly.
"Is that a Sneakoscope?" Hermione asked, intrigued as she stood for a closer look.
"Yeah... mind you, it's a cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."
"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" Hermione asked pointedly.
"No! Well... I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys, but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?" Ron admitted.
"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry suggested, as the Sneakoscope let out another piercing whistle. "Or it'll wake him up."
He nodded towards Professor Lupin, who remained motionless, his breathing steady. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly awful pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, muffling the sound, then shut the trunk.
"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," Ron said, returning to his seat. "They sell stuff like that in Dervish and Banges. Fred and George told me."
"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked keenly. "I read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain."
"Yeah, I think it is," Ron replied, waving her comment away. "But that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes."
"What's that?" Hermione asked.
"It's this sweetshop," Ron said dreamily. "They've got everything... Pepper Imps that make you smoke at the mouth, great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and sugar quills you can suck in class while pretending to think."
"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place," Hermione pressed. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery, it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain—"
"—And massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," Ron added, clearly ignoring her.
Hermione turned to Harry. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"
"'Spect it will," Harry said heavily. "You'll have to tell me all about it."
"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, confused.
"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't, either."
Ron's jaw dropped. "You're not allowed to come? But... no way. McGonagall or someone will give you permission."
Harry laughed hollowly. Professor McGonagall, strict as ever, wouldn't bend the rules for this.
"I forgot to have Dad sign my slip. When he does, I can bring yours too," Hope suggested, hopeful. "Surely a teacher's signature will be enough."
"If that doesn't work, we can ask Fred and George," Ron said eagerly. "They know every secret passage out of the castle."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out with Black on the loose."
"Yeah, that's what McGonagall will say too," Harry said bitterly.
"But if we're with him," Ron argued, "Black wouldn't dare—"
"Oh, Ron, don't be ridiculous," Hermione cut in. "Black's already murdered a street full of people. Do you really think he's going to care if we're with Harry?"
She fiddled with the straps of Crookshanks's basket.
"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away
"Get out of it!" Ron hissed.
"Ron, don't!" Hermione snapped.
Ron was about to argue back when Professor Lupin stirred. They froze, but he merely turned his head, still asleep.
The Hogwarts Express continued its journey northward. The sky darkened, clouds thickening overhead. People rushed past their compartment, laughter and chatter filling the corridor. Crookshanks had now settled comfortably in Hope's lap, his yellow eyes fixed on Ron's pocket.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food trolley appeared at the door.
"Should we wake him?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Lupin. "He looks like he could use some food."
Hope knowing how rough his night before had been shook her head. "He's fine."
She fished a few knuts from her pocket. "Could I get a licorice wand, please?"
The witch nodded, passing Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes before handing Hope her licorice wand. Hope slipped the coins into the witch's hand, and the trolley trundled away. She slid the compartment door closed, the comforting hum of the train continuing in the background.
Mid-afternoon, just as rain began to streak the windows, blurring the rolling hills outside, footsteps echoed down the corridor. The compartment door slid open, and their three least favorite people appeared: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
"Well, look who it is," Malfoy drawled lazily, pulling open the door. "Potty and the Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled, low and trollish.
"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," Malfoy sneered. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Ron shot to his feet so quickly Crookshanks's basket tumbled to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a soft snort, still dozing.
"Who's that?" Malfoy took a step back, eyeing Lupin warily.
"New teacher," Hope said with a smirk, wanting to see the shocked look on his face at the feast when he found out it was her father.
"What were you saying, Malfoy?" Harry added, standing as well, just in case Ron needed holding back.
Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed. He wasn't foolish enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"Come on," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, turning on his heel. The trio disappeared down the corridor.
Ron collapsed into his seat, rubbing his knuckles. "I'm not putting up with Malfoy's rubbish this year. One more crack about my family, and I'm going to get hold of his head and —"
He made a violent twisting motion in the air.
"Ron," Hermione hissed, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "Be careful."
But Lupin remained fast asleep.
"Oh, please. Malfoy's so horrible, he'd probably help him if he saw," Hope quipped.
Ron grinned. "It'll be nice having another teacher from Gryffindor. Think he'll give us points just for being in his house?"
"He's a teacher, Ron. He won't be biased," Hermione retorted.
"Snape's always biased," Ron shot back.
"That's because Snape's main occupation is being a git. He just teaches on the side," Hope said, making Ron snort. Harry nearly choked on his cauldron cake, while Hermione gave Hope a disapproving look.
"Forget that he was a Gryffindor," Harry added, still smiling. "Think of all the points we could get just from being in the same house as his kid."
Ron's eyes brightened as he looked at Hope. "Thanks, Hope." He said preemptively.
She laughed softly. "Happy to be of service."
The rain thickened, turning the windows into sheets of shimmering grey. Outside grew darker until lanterns flickered to life along the corridors. The train rattled on, the rain hammered down, and the wind roared — but still, Professor Lupin slept.
"We must be nearly there," Ron said, craning his neck to peer past Lupin at the blackened window.
The train suddenly began to slow. Distant thuds and bangs echoed from the luggage racks as it jolted to a stop. Without warning, all the lamps went out, plunging the compartment into total darkness.
"What's going on?" Ron's voice came from the shadows.
"Ouch! Ron, that was my foot!" Hermione yelped.
Harry groped his way back to his seat. "Do you think we've broken down?"
"Must've. Why else would we stop?" Hope replied.
A squeaking sound came from Ron as he wiped a patch clean on the window, squinting into the dark.
"There's something moving out there," he said. "I think people are coming aboard."
The compartment door slid open suddenly, and someone stumbled over Hope's legs.
"Ow!" she gasped.
"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —"
"Hello, Neville," Harry said, reaching through the darkness and pulling Neville upright by his cloak.
"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"
"No idea. Sit down —"
There was a loud hiss, followed by a yelp of pain. Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.
"I'm going to ask the driver what's going on," Hermione announced.
Hope felt her brush past. The door slid open again, and almost immediately, there was a loud thud and two startled squeals.
"Who's that?" two voices exclaimed at once.
"Ginny?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione?" Ginny answered, sounding equally bewildered.
"What are you doing?"
"I was looking for Ron."
"Come in and sit down," Ron urged.
"Not here!" Harry added quickly.
"I'm here!"
"Ouch!" Neville whimpered.
"Quiet!" A hoarse voice interrupted suddenly.
Lupin had stirred at last. Movements came from his corner, and then a shivering light flared up, illuminating the compartment. The flames danced in his palm, casting flickering shadows across his tired, grey face. His eyes, however, were sharp and watchful.
"Stay where you are," he commanded, his voice low and firm.
Before Lupin could take a step, the door slid open.
A towering figure stood in the doorway, cloaked in black. The hood concealed its face, but Hope's eyes dropped to its hand — a glistening, grey, scabbed thing, like the remnants of something dead and rotted away.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared, the hand withdrawing beneath the folds of its cloak. The creature drew a slow, rattling breath, as though attempting to suck the air from the room.
And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.
An intense cold swept over them all. Hope felt her own breath catch in her chest. The chill wasn't just on her skin; it sank deeper, clawing into her bones. It was inside her chest, inside her very heart. The cold curling inside her, wrapping around her mind like icy tendrils.
Everything was cold. Everything was dark.
Hope's eyes rolled upward, the flickering light of Lupin's flames vanishing from her sight. It was as if she were being swallowed whole by a pit of hollowness. The cold was unbearable, drowning her. The world slipped away, the train compartment, her friends—all fading.
A rushing sound filled her ears, like water crashing over jagged rocks. It roared and swirled, dragging her down, deeper and deeper.
And then, from somewhere distant, she heard shouts. Angry shouts. A man's voice and a woman's, tangled together, echoing through the void. She couldn't make out the words but they were filled with fury, rage, sadness, emotions so raw and chaotic that Hope could barely comprehend them. She hated the sound of it, the shouts flooding her with an overwhelming sense of dread that churned in her stomach. She tried to move her arms, to reach out, but she couldn't.
A thick white fog swirled around her, curling into her lungs, filling her from the inside, suffocating her even further.
No warmth. No light.
Only the dark.
"Hope! Hope!"
Hope blinked, the sensation of being shaken pulling her from the lingering darkness. Her father's worried face came into view, his hands gripping her shoulders. Nearby, Hermione was doing the same to Harry, who had just begun to stir.
"Are you alright?" Lupin's voice was steady, but concern lingered beneath it.
Hope sat up, her head spinning. The Hogwarts Express was moving again, the lights flickering back to life. She had slipped from her seat and onto the floor, just like Harry. Ron and Hermione knelt next to him, and Neville hovered anxiously above them.
"Are you okay?" Ron's voice cracked, his gaze darting between them.
"Yeah," Harry mumbled, his eyes flicking to the door. The creature was gone. "What happened? Where's that... that thing? Who screamed?"
Hope frowned. Screaming?
"No one screamed," Ron said, his face pale.
Harry scanned the compartment. Ginny and Neville were both ghostly white, their wide eyes locked on him.
"But I heard screaming," Harry insisted.
"I heard shouting," Hope added, with furrowed brows..
"No one was shouting," Hermione said softly, studying hope worriedly.
A sharp snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin had broken a slab of chocolate into pieces.
"Here," he said, handing both Harry and Hope a large piece. "Eat. It'll help."
Hope bit into the chocolate without question. Warmth spread from her fingertips to her toes, easing the lingering chill. Harry, however, hesitated, still gripping the piece but not eating it.
"What was that thing?" Harry finally asked.
"A Dementor," Lupin answered simply, passing chocolate to the others. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."
The name sent a chill through the air. Lupin crumpled the empty wrapper, stuffing it into his pocket.
"Eat," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver. Excuse me."
He gave Hope a gentle pat on the head before disappearing into the corridor.
"Are you sure you're both okay?" Hermione's concern lingered.
"I don't get it," Harry murmured, wiping the sweat from his face. "What happened?"
Ron shifted uncomfortably. "That Dementor... it stood there, looking around. I mean, I think it did. I couldn't see its face. Then you two just... I thought you were having a fit or something. You went rigid, fell out of your seats, and started twitching."
"Lupin stepped over you," Hermione added, her voice hushed. "He walked right up to the Dementor and pulled out his wand. He said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But it didn't move. Then Lupin muttered something, and this silvery thing shot out of his wand. The Dementor just... glided away."
"It was horrible," Neville whispered, his voice higher than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got?"
"I felt... wrong," Ron said, rubbing his arms. "Like I'd never be happy again."
Ginny gave a small sob from her corner. Hermione quickly moved to comfort her, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders.
"Did anyone else fall?" Hope asked hesitantly.
"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "But Ginny was shaking like mad."
Hope's stomach twisted. She had never experienced anything like that before. The all-consuming darkness, the suffocating despair... and the shouting. Why had she heard it? Why had Harry heard screaming? No one else seemed to have. And why had the Dementor affected them so much worse than everyone else?
The compartment door slid open. Professor Lupin returned, his gaze flicking to Harry, who had yet to eat his chocolate.
"I haven't poisoned that, you know," Lupin said with a small smile.
Harry finally took a bite, visibly relaxing.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Lupin announced. "Are you two alright?"
"Fine," Harry muttered, though his face still held traces of confusion.
Lupin's eyes lingered on Hope, his worry evident.
"I'm okay, Dad," she assured him, the chocolate easing the worst of her discomfort.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. At long last, the train screeched to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. Outside, the rain came down in icy sheets, soaking the platform. The air was freezing.
"Firs'-years this way!" boomed Hagrid's familiar voice. Hope, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to see the giant figure beckoning the new students toward the lake.
"All righ', you four?" Hagrid called over the crowd.
They waved, but the throng of students swept them along before they could respond. They made their way to a long line of stagecoaches, each pulled by a black skeletal, winged horse.
Hope's breath caught. The creatures were majestic, their hollow eyes and leathery wings giving them an eerie beauty. No one else seemed to notice them.
"How pretty," she murmured.
Hermione tilted her head "I suppose." hermione said not thinking the carriages were all that great herself.
Once inside a carriage, the rain drummed heavily against the roof. The musty smell of straw lingered in the air. Hope had felt better after the chocolate but still felt the aftereffects of the Dementor's presence.
The carriage jolted to a stop at the castle gates. Two hooded Dementors stood on either side, their presence alone making her stomach churn. She shrank back, squeezing her eyes shut until they passed. Only then did she breathe freely again.
The ride up to the castle was silent, except for Hermione occasionally peeking out the window. The immense towers of Hogwarts loomed closer. At last, the carriages arrived at the castle. Ron and Hermione stepped out, followed by Hope. Harry had barely set foot on the ground when an all-too-familiar voice rang out.
"You fainted, Potter? Longbottom wasn't lying? You actually fainted?"
Draco Malfoy's sneer twisted his pale face with delight. Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron growled, his jaw clenched.
"Did you faint too, Weasley? Did the big, bad Dementor scare you?"
"Shut up," Hope snapped.
Malfoy turned to her, his grin widening. "Touched a nerve? Longbottom said you fainted too. Lousy Lupin."
"Is there a problem?" A calm voice interrupted.
Professor Lupin had stepped out of the next carriage. Malfoy's grin faltered. The boy's gaze flicked to the patches on Lupin's robes and the worn suitcase in his hand. With mock politeness, Malfoy sneered, "Oh no, Professor. No problem at all."
With one last glare, he sauntered away, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.
Hermione tugged Ron toward the castle, prodding him before he could retort. The four of them joined the sea of students entering the grand oak doors and stepping into the brightly lit Entrance Hall. Warm torchlight danced across the marble staircase, and for a moment, the lingering chill of the Dementors was forgotten.
The door into the Great Hall stood open on the right. The four followed the crowd towards it, the enchanted ceiling black and cloudy tonight, just barely visible when a voice called out.
"Potter! Granger! Lupin! I want to see you all!"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, stern but not unkind.
Harry and Hermione turned around, startled. A sense of foreboding crept over Harry—Professor McGonagall always had a way of making him feel as if he'd done something wrong. Ron and Hope trailed behind curiously.
"No need to look so worried—I just want a word in my office," she assured them. "Move along there, Weasley."
Ron stared as McGonagall ushered the three away from the chattering crowd. They followed her across the Entrance Hall, up the marble staircase, and down a familiar corridor.
Inside her office, a small room warmed by a crackling fire, Professor McGonagall gestured for them to sit. Settling behind her desk, she wasted no time.
"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead. He said you were taken ill on the train."
"Well, yes, but we're fine now," Hope answered quickly.
A soft knock interrupted, and Madam Pomfrey, the matron, bustled in.
Harry let out a quiet huff. Hope knew how much he hated people fussing over him.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "I don't need anything—"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" Madam Pomfrey ignored him, bending down to inspect him closely. "I suppose you've been up to something dangerous again?"
"Not really," Hope began, but Madam Pomfrey's sharp gaze shifted to her instead.
"Mrs. Lupin, I would've hoped it would be longer before I saw you." She tutted, eyes scanning Hope's face.
"It was a Dementor, Poppy," Professor McGonagall informed her.
A dark look passed between the two women. Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.
"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing Harry's hair back to feel his forehead. "They won't be the first to collapse. Terrible things, especially for those already delicate—"
"I'm not delicate!" Harry snapped.
"Of course you're not," she said absentmindedly, checking his pulse.
"What do they need?" Professor McGonagall's tone was brisk. "Bed rest? Should they spend the night in the hospital wing?"
Madam Pomfrey turned to Hope, checking her forehead, which was just as clammy.
"I'm fine!" Harry jumped up, the thought of Malfoy finding out about a hospital wing stay unbearable.
"Well, you should have some chocolate, at the very least—both of you," Madam Pomfrey declared, now examining Hope's pulse.
"We've had some," Hope assured her. "Dad gave us some. He gave it to everyone in the compartment."
"Did he, now?" Madam Pomfrey's gave a nod of approval. "Finally, a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies."
Hope's lips twitched with pride.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze lingered on the two.
"Yes," Harry said firmly.
"I'm fine. Really!" Hope chimed in, not wanting to miss the feast.
"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her timetable. Then we can go down to the feast together."
Harry and Hope stepped into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. They waited only a few minutes before Hermione emerged, looking quite pleased, followed by Professor McGonagall. Together, they descended the marble staircase and entered the Great Hall.
The sea of pointed black hats and long house tables stretched before them, illuminated by the glow of thousands of floating candles. Professor Flitwick carried the ancient Sorting Hat and its three-legged stool from the Hall.
"Oh," Hermione murmured, disappointed. "We've missed the Sorting."
"That's twice in a row now," Hope muttered, annoyedly.
Professor McGonagall returned to her seat at the staff table, while Harry, Hope, and Hermione made their way to the Gryffindor table. Heads turned as they passed. Most eyes were on Harry, though Hope caught a few lingering on her. Word had undoubtedly traveled.
Ron had saved them seats, and they slipped into place, Harry and Hermione on either side of him. Hope settled across from them between George and Ginny.
"Hey, you alright?" George leaned in, his voice low. "Ginny told me you fainted."
"I'm fine," Hope replied quickly, but George's concern lingered in his eyes. She was about to say more when Professor Dumbledore stood, the candlelight reflecting off his silver beard.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice rang through the hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is quite serious, I think it best to address it before you become too befuddled by our excellent feast."
He cleared his throat, the room growing still.
"As you are all aware, after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they remain, I must make it plain that no one is to leave school without permission."
He paused, his eyes scanning the hall.
"Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—not even Invisibility Cloaks," he added, causing Harry and Ron to exchange a glance. "It is not in their nature to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl to ensure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."
Percy puffed out his chest, his expression glowing with self-importance. Dumbledore's gaze swept once more across the silent hall.
"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Hope beamed, clapping so enthusiastically her hands stung. George looked at her, surprised.
"You never said your dad was teaching this year?"
"It was a surprise," Hope answered, her grin widening.
Scattered, half-hearted applause echoed through the hall. Only those who'd shared a compartment with Professor Lupin clapped harder.
Hope's gaze shifted to Snape, who was glaring down the staff table at Professor Lupin. His usual scowl was even harsher than normal. Everyone knew Snape had wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and Hope held quite a grudge against the potions master, convinced he was the worst teacher Hogwarts had ever seen — and one of them had literally taught with You-Know-Who on the back of his head for a year.
But even Hope was startled by the expression twisting Snape's thin, sallow face. It wasn't just anger — it was pure loathing. She recognized that look all too well; it was the same one Snape wore every time he set eyes on Hope, Harry, or even poor Neville.
"And as to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid."
The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. Hope's heart swelled at the sight of Hagrid, his face ruby-red, grinning through his tangled black beard.
"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have set us a biting book?"
As the applause faded, Hagrid wiped his eyes on the tablecloth. Dumbledore smiled warmly.
"Well, I believe that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Hope dug in immediately, helping herself to everything she could reach.
It was a delicious feast; the Hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Still, Hope, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were eager for it to end so they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much becoming a teacher would mean to him, especially after being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he hadn't committed.
At long last, when the last crumbs of pumpkin tart had vanished from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word. It was time for bed — but not before they got their chance.
"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table.
"All down ter you three," Hagrid said, wiping his shining face with a napkin. He looked up at them, his eyes glistening. "Can't believe it... great man, Dumbledore... came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough. It's what I always wanted..."
Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin. Professor McGonagall gave them a sharp look and gestured for them to move along.
Hope grinned, giving her father a wave and a thumbs-up before following Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They joined the stream of Gryffindors making their way up the marble staircase, exhaustion creeping over them with every step. Corridors twisted and turned, stairs seemed endless, but finally, they reached the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress regarded them with a smug smile.
"Password?" she asked, arching a brow.
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy's voice rang out from behind the crowd. "The new password's Fortuna Major!"
"Oh no," Neville groaned. "I'll never remember that."
Hope gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Neville's track record with passwords wasn't exactly stellar.
Through the portrait hole and across the cozy common room, the girls and boys split off toward their separate staircases. The warm, familiar glow of the Tower promised a good night's rest, though Hope couldn't shake the excited buzz of knowing Hagrid had finally achieved his dream.
Hope climbed the spiral staircase, her legs aching from the long day. The familiar comfort of Gryffindor Tower greeted her as she pushed through the dormitory door. The round room was warm and inviting, the four-poster beds draped in deep red hangings. Parvati and Lavender were already inside, changing into their pajamas, while Hermione followed in behind her.
"Hope, are you okay?" Parvati asked, concern etched across her face as she plopped onto her bed. "I heard about the train."
"I'm fine," Hope reassured her, though the memory of the sudden collapse still lingered in her mind. She pulled her pajamas from her trunk, quickly changing into them. "Really, I'm fine," she added, noticing the worried looks from all three of them, even Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey checked me over and everything."
Parvati gave her a lingering look, but then, sensing the tension, brightened. "Well, on a happier note, did you two sign up for Divination?" Her excitement practically radiated. "Lavender and I can't wait. Professor Trelawney is supposed to be amazing!"
"Oh, absolutely!" Lavender gushed, sitting up. "I've heard she can predict the future just by looking at you. Imagine finding out who we're going to marry!"
"You don't really believe that, do you?" Hermione scoffed, folding her robes with practiced precision. "It's not exactly the most reputable field of magic. There's a reason hardly anyone takes it seriously."
"Oh, come on, Hermione!" Lavender shot back. "Just because it's not as boring and straightforward as History of Magic or Potions doesn't mean it won't be fun."
Hope groaned dramatically, flopping onto her bed. "Can we not talk about Potions? I still haven't done that stupid Moonstones essay. Snape's going to skin me alive."
"Honestly, Hope," Hermione tutted, slipping under her quilt. "You had weeks to do it. What were you even doing all summer?"
"Trying not to think about Snape," Hope mumbled, poking at a loose thread in her blanket.
Lavender giggled, but Parvati's grin turned mischievous. "Well, I'm excited about more than just classes."
Lavender caught on quickly. "Oh, absolutely. Have you noticed how much taller Seamus got?"
"No," Parvati said, smirking. "I was a little more focused on Dean. He's got quite a nice smile, don't you think?"
"All the new classes we get to take, and you're most excited about boys?" Hermione asked, as Crookshanks hopped onto the corner of her bed, his yellow eyes narrowing judgmentally.
"Really, Hermione, there's no one you're interested in at all?" Parvati pressed, tilting her head.
Hermione hesitated, her hands smoothing the edge of her pillowcase. "No," she replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'm focusing on my studies."
Hope arched a brow, not entirely convinced, but she didn't push. The knowing look in Hermione's eyes suggested she wasn't eager for the conversation to stay on her for long.
"What about you, Hope?" Lavender piped up, curiosity shining in her eyes. "Anyone caught your eye?"
Hope's heart thudded. Her mind went straight to George—his grin, his mischievous sparkle, the way he'd always manage to make her laugh. The memory of his smile sent warmth creeping into her cheeks.
She glanced at Hermione, who was now watching her with a barely concealed smirk. Avoiding her gaze, Hope shook her head.
"No one," she replied, though the slight hitch in her voice betrayed her.
Lavender wasn't convinced. "Oh, come on! There's got to be someone you find even a little bit cute."
Hope bit her lip. It wasn't like she could lie outright—not when they were all looking at her with such expectant grins. Finally, she exhaled.
"George is... nice," she admitted, the words barely above a whisper.
Parvati and Lavender squealed, delighted. "George Weasley?!" Lavender gasped.
"But how can you even tell them apart half the time?" Parvati asked with a laugh. "They're identical!"
Hope's lips quirked into a small smile. "They're not that identical. He's taller than Fred for one, and his face is a bit longer. Plus, he has this little bump on the bridge of his nose."
She trailed off, the dreamy tone in her voice making Lavender and Parvati exchange gleeful glances. Hermione, though clearly amused, remained silent, her smirk growing.
"If only you paid attention in Potions the way you pay attention to George," Parvati teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
Hope buried her face in her pillow with a groan, her laughter muffled beneath it. The girls giggled, even Hermione unable to hold back a laugh. The warmth of their laughter filled the room, and for a moment, Hope forgot all about the dementor on the train and the distant shouts that had followed the encounter.