The dementor
Tom woke Harry the morning of September first with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. He had just finished getting dressed and trying to get Hedwig into her cage, letting Sirius's owl out the window-- unbelievably, Sly had been much more cooperative(probably not related to the fact Harry gave her his coin pouch)-- when Ron had stumbled his way into the room, Padma and Lisa hot on his tracks.
"We got biscuits!" said Padma cheerily as Lisa lifted up a small bag.
"I'll take one-- Perse's all mad at me because he thinks I spilled tea on his photo of Oliver Wood. Y'know," Ron said, grimacing. "his boyfriend. He's gone totally crazy over him. Wood's gone out of frame because his broomstick has gotten all smeared and blotchy and he can't fly now... bloody git's fault for leaving it on the nightstand..."
Harry was debating whether or not to tell them about what he heard from Mr and Mrs Weasley when Fred and George barged in, congratulating Ron on infuriating Percy again.
They had all gone down to breakfast, where Mr Weasley was reading a page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she made as a young girl. The three of them had been rather giggly.
Harry didn't have the chance to speak to anybody in the chaos of leaving; They were all too busy dragging their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, Hedwig and Hermes(Percy's screech owl) perched atop within their cages. Sly's case had been balanced atop Hydrus's, which was beside the trunks, and beside them, a small wickerwork basket.
"It's alright, Crookshanks," said Hermione lovingly through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."
"You won't," snapped Ron, who Harry didn't even notice was there. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?" He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was in his chest pocket.
"A cat and a rat," said Lisa, giggling. "Interesting. Wonder who'd win that brawl."
"Not the rat, that's for sure," Padma smiled.
Mr Weasley stuck his head inside. He had been waiting outside for the Ministry cars.
"They're here," he said. "Harry, come along now, you first."
Mr Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement towards the first of three old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard, wearing a suit of emerald velvet.
"In you go," urged Mr Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street. Harry got the back of the car, soon joined by Hermione, Ron, and, much to Ron's dismay, Percy. Padma and Lisa had been in one the other cars with Fred and George and Ginny.
The trip was quite uneventful-- the Ministry cars seemed rather normal, save for the fact that they could slip through areas that cars normally couldn't. They got to King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; The drivers found trolleys for them, unloaded their trunks, tipped their hats, and they were off-- somehow managing to jump to the front of a line waiting at the traffic light.
Mr Weasley kept Harry close as they entered the station. "We should go in pairs, since there's so many of us," he said, as Platform nine grew nearer.
"I'll go with Harry." said Hermione quickly, pushing her trolley slightly faster.
Hermione had waited for the right moment-- when a crowd was passing by-- and strode through the barrier. Harry followed as quickly as he could before the entire crowd had passed. He phased through the brick wall into Platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express puffing smoke over the packed platform filled with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.
Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry and Hermione. They were panting, presumably having taken to the barrier at a run.
"Ah! There's Oliver," said Percy, going pink. He strode over, chest puffed out, to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
"Never thought I'd see the day he's excited to see someone." said Ron, who had just came through the barrier with Mr Weasley.
Padma and Lisa were next, laughing as they went flying past, nearly knocking over Neville Longbottom. When they had all gotten themselves sorted out and apologised to Neville, they went to say bye to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, Lisa, Padma, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed to say the least, but admittedly quite pleased.
"Do take care, won't you, Harry?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron... no, they're not corned beef... Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are, dear..."
"Harry," said Mr Weasley quietly, "if you'd come over here a moment." He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs Weasley.
"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave--" said Mr Weasley, in a tense voice.
"It's fine, Mr Weasley." said Harry, "I already know."
"You know? How could you know?"
"I heard you and Mrs Weasley talking last night. I couldn't help but hear," Harry added quickly. "Sorry if I--"
"That's not the way I'd have hoped for you to find out," said Mr Weasley, looking anxious.
"No, no-- honestly, it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on. I won't lose too much sleep over it."
"Harry, you must be very scared and shocked--"
"I'm not," said Harry sincerely. "Really," he added, because Mr Weasley was looking disbelieving. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but Sirius Black can't be worse than Volde-- er, You-Know-Who, can he?"
Mr Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it. "Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but--"
"Arthur!" called Mrs Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"
"He's coming, Molly!" said Mr Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, you've lost a lot, even if it doesn't hurt you now. Harry, I want you to give me your word--"
"-- that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" asked Harry gloomily.
"Not entirely..." said Mr Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Harry, swear to me you won't go looking for Black."
Harry stared.
"What?"
There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut.
"Promise me, Harry," said Mr Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens--"
"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?" asked Harry blankly.
"Swear to me that whatever you might hear--"
"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs Weasley.
Steam was billowing from the train; It had begun to move. "I promise!" Harry shouted, as he ran to the compartment door. Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on.
They all leaned out the window to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley until the train started up and blocked the two from view.
"I hope our compartment's not taken," said Padma hopefully as they set down the corridor.
"You've got your own compartment?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
Lisa giggled. "Of course we do! Me and Padma have been sitting there since our first year! Remember how we started arguing in first year because I accidentally went into their compartment when they were gone. Of course, however you want to look at it, we really didn’t... er, I guess, if you look at it now. She’s like, my best-best friend."
"Hey, what're you doing? Go away Gin’, haven't you got some friends to hang with or something?" said Ron, suddenly noticing that she had still been following them. “Go find Luna or one of your other friends. Like, er, that Hufflepuff you hang with.":
Ginny scoffed. "How brotherly, leaving me to go find my own place," she said sarcastically, before she stalked off.
Lisa and Padma led them to the compartment at the very end of the train. It was mostly empty, as there was a single occupant; A man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Fortunately, it was one of the few compartments that had eight seats, so they didn't have to worry about spacing. Although, it was confusing-- the Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students, save for the Trolley Lady.
The man was wearing extremely shabby wizard’s robes and looked quite sickly and exhausted, and his light brown hair was sporting grey streaks. Somehow, Harry thought he looked familiar-- he just couldn’t place how.
"Who d'you reckon he is?" asked Ron as they all sat down and slid the door shut, trying their best to be quiet.
"Professor... R.J. Lupin," said Hermione.
"How do you know that?"
"Don’t you notice anything? It's on his case," she answered, pointing at the luggage rack over their heads. A small battered case was held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name 'Professor R.J. Lupin' was stamped across a corner in peeling letters.
Lupin, Harry thought. It was very, very familiar, too, but he still didn’t know how.
"Wonder what he teaches?" Ron said.
"What else would he teach?" said Lisa. "There's no other subject in the school with a constant vacancy."
Defence Against the Dark Arts, in Harry's opinion, a very interesting subject, had been the least manageable. They'd already had two teachers, but both were incompetent and only lasted the year. There had been rumours that the job was jinxed, and it had begun to look very likely.
"I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. Padma hummed. "He does look like a good spell or two would do him in, doesn't he?"
They had all spoke on and off for a little while when Draco joined them, muttering about how Lyra wouldn't give him a break, and he didn’t seem to think very highly of Lupin.
“He looks half-dead,” he said, “and his robes are terrible. Can’t he afford better?”
“Maybe you should buy him a new pair for Christmas,” Ron scoffed. “Cause, y’see, not everyone’s rich.”
“Bloody hell, I might. Dumbledore’s standards get worse every year, I swear,”
“Snowflake,” Harry murmured, shoving him, and Draco went pink. “Maybe he’s a good teacher. And it's just alright if he's not rich-- see, I’ve heard rich people don’t know how to be nice. You’re starting to prove that point, you know--”
“Oh, fine,” Draco sighed. “Maybe he won’t be... entirely terrible. But someone needs to buy him a new pair of robes.”
It was around thirty minutes before something happened.
"What's that sound?" said Ron.
A faint, high-pitched whistle was coming from somewhere. Harry, who had been half-asleep and drooling on Draco's shoulder, sat up and looked around. It made his ears ring horribly.
"It's coming from your trunk, Harry." said Padma, looking up at the luggage rack.
A moment later, Ron had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope from Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast and glowing very brightly.
"Is that a Sneakoscope?" asked Hermione, standing up for a better look.
"Yeah, I sent it to Harry for his birthday... er, mind, it's a real cheap one." Ron explained. "It went haywire just as I was tying it 'round Errol's leg to send it."
"Were you doing anything untrustworthy? Breaking a rule?" Padma asked, poking the Sneakoscope. It continued to ring.
"No! Well, I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. He's not really up to long journeys... but how else was I meant to get Harry his present?"
"I don't think Errol's up for journeys in general," muttered Lisa.
"Put it back in the trunk, that thing's going to wake him up," Draco muttered, nodding at Lupin, while placing his hands over his own ears. The Sneakoscope was still whistling piercingly. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a pair of socks and back into Harry's robes, making it much quieter. He closed the trunk and put it back on the rack.
"You should get that fixed in Hogsmeade," said Lisa. "There's a shop down there that sells stuff like that-- my mom told me."
"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked immediately. "I've read about it before, apparently it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain."
"Yeah, I think so," Padma said.
"I just want to go to Honeydukes," said Ron tiredly.
"Honeydukes? You're kidding? Just Honeydukes?" Padma asked, looking at him as if she were ridiculing him with her very mind.
"What's Honeydukes?" asked Hermione.
"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, gaining a dreamy look. "they've got everything.. Pepper Imps-- they make you smoke at the mouth-- and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills that you can suck on in class and just look like you're thinking about what to write next--"
"But Hogsmeade's far too interesting for much more than just Honeydukes," said Hermione ("Thank you!" Padma said). "I mean-- in Sites of Historical Sorcerery, 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 sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron dreamily, simply not listening to a word Hermione was saying. Harry was too close to falling asleep to listen very carefully.
Hermione rolled her eyes, easily noticing the lack of attention. She began to fiddle with the straps of Crookshanks's basket, and Ron didn't take a second to notice. "Oi, Mione! Don't let that thing out--"
Crookshanks leaped out the basket before Ron could say another word, and, yawning, sprang onto Ron's knees. Scabbers trembled in his pocket as he pushed Crookshanks away.
"Ron, don't!" said Hermione sharply. Ron was about to answer back when Lupin stirred. They all went silent and watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing back and forth past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in the empty seat between Harry and Lupin, his squashed face turned towards Ron and his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.
At one o'clock, the witch with the food trolley arrived at the compartment door.
"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Lupin. “He looks like he could do with some food."
Hermione approached Lupin cautiously.
"Er-- Professor?" she said, tapping his arm. "Professor?"
He didn't move.
"Don't worry, dear," said the witch, as she handed Harry a large stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front."
"You suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean-- he hasn't died, has he?"
"If he'd died, he'd be a lot colder," Draco said, putting a hand on Lupin's arm.
"And he's breathing perfectly normally," said Hermione, taking the cauldron cake Harry offered her. “Really Ron, give him some time to atleast get into the job."
"I'll take one too," said Lisa, shrugging Padma off her shoulder.
The rain thickened as the train sped farther north; The windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which darkened gradually until lanterns flickered to life along the corridors and over the luggage rack. Just about everything was loud and noisy, but Professor Lupin still slept.
"I think we're almost there," Lisa said, looking out the completely black window. “It only gets this dark when we get closer, right?”
Suddenly, the train began to slow down.
"Oh, great," said Ron, standing up and walking carefully to look out the window.
"No, we can't be there yet," said Harry, looking at his watch. “It’s not the time the train normally arrives. We’re almost an hour early.”
"Then why are we stopping?"
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Harry got up to look into the corridor; Many curious heads were poking out of compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
"What's going on?" said Ron.
"Ouch!" gasped Hermione, "Ron-- that was my foot!"
"Lisa, get off me!" shouted Padma.
"I'm not on you, Padma, that's somebody's trunk!"
Harry tried to feel his way back to his seat, and nearly tripped over Draco.
"Has the train broken down?"
"Dunno,"
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the silhouette of Ron wiping the window and peering out, the moonlight giving a brief bit of light. The mirror fogged up again quickly, however, not lasting long.
"There's something moving out there..." He said, wiping it again. "I think people are coming aboard."
The compartment door opened and shut suddenly, and someone fell onto the floor.
"Sorry-- any idea what's going on--? Ooh! Sorry!"
"Hi, Neville-- and no." said Padma, and there was a shuffling noise. Crookshanks hissed loudly-- it seems Neville accidentally tried to sit on him.
The compartment door opened again.
"Brother? Are you here? It’s me and Luna--"
"Yes, Lyra," said Draco, squinting.
"I can't see you-- oh, where's my wand?"
Harry heard the rummaging of fabric when there was a thud, and two loud squeals following.
"Who's that?"
"Who's that?"
"Ginny?" said Ron through the darkness.
"Sorry- sorry-- who's this?"
"Oh, hello, Ginny,” said Luna. “Ouch! That’s my foot--"
"Ow! That's my hand!" shrieked Lyra. “Watch where you’re walking!”
"Sorry! I can’t see--!"
Luna shrieked, and there was another thud.
"Quiet!" said a new voice suddenly. It seemed Lupin had woken up at last.
Crookshanks yowled, running onto Harry's lap, and there was movement in the corner. Neville had been shifting around awkwardly.
It was silent, save for the sound of Lyra, Ginny, and Luna stumbling over eachother and trying to get to their feet.
There was a soft crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. He looked tired, but alert and wary.
"Stay where you are," He said hoarsely, and he stood slowly to his feet, the flames held out infront of him. He walked around Lyra, Luna, and Ginny and reached for the now closed door, but it slid open before he got to it.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. It's face was completely hidden by it's hood. If Harry believed in such a possibility, he would've thought it was death himself.
Then the thing, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath.
An intense cold swept over them all; Harry felt his breath catch in his chest. It felt like the cold had gotten under his skin. It was in his chest, grasping at something within his heart.
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he begun to feel colder than cold. As if he were swimming in it-- drowning in it, even. There was a ringing in his ears that became deafened by the sound of rushing water. And then, from somewhere in his mind, very far away-- there was screaming. Horrified screams, pleading. He tried to cover his ears, to not hear it, but he couldn't move his arms. But it wasn't fear, wasn't the cold, and it was like something was being pulled out of him. He got a painful, tugging feeling-- as if whatever was being taken, it would rather take anything it could with it. At the back of his head, he heard another scream echoing through his ears, different than the others. Louder, more pained--
"--Harry! Harry, wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes, for suddenly they had been tightly shut; The lights had been back on, the floor was shaking-- the Hogwarts Express was moving again. It seemed as if he had simply collapsed and fell out his seat. Draco had been hoisting him up while the others had been kneeling down or watching from afar. Harry felt nauseous as Padma handed him his glasses.
He was heaved back into his seat. "Are you alright, Harry?" Asked Ron.
"I'm fine," said Harry briskly, looking at the door. The hooded creature was gone. "What was that- that thing? W-who was screaming?"
"Harry-- er- nobody screamed. I mean, Lyra started crying--" said Padma, nodding towards Lyra, who had been looking very depressed and trembling sitting in Draco's seat. Luna was comforting her. "-- but nobody screamed."
"Sorry, I just-- I could've sworn I heard screaming." Harry said,
A loud snap made them all jump. Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into multiple pieces.
"Here," he said, handing Harry the largest piece. "Eat it. It'll help."
Harry took the chocolate gratefully, but felt like he'd throw it right back up if he ate it.
"What was that?" He asked.
"A dementor," said Lupin, handing the others slightly smaller pieces of chocolate. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."
Everyone stared at him. Lupin balled up the chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. Neville and Luna had already been eating their chocolate.
"Eat," Lupin repeated to the rest of them. "It'll help. Really. I need to speak to the driver, if you'll excuse me..."
He strolled past them and disappeared into the corridor.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione asked, moving to beside Harry, watching him closely.
"What happened?" asked Harry.
"That thing-- the- the dementor-- stood there and looked around-- I mean, I'd guess, because I couldn't see its face.... And you- you--"
"I thought you were having a fit or something. It was real... really..." said Ron darkly, trailing off.
"Disturbing." Padma filled in. "You went all rigid and started shaking-- I mean, you were convulsing, and fell out your seat, and--"
"Lupin casted a Patronus. I mean, it wasn't corporeal, but still." said Draco, sitting in the seat Lupin was in. He was looking at Harry as if he’d almost died.
"A Patronus?" Harry repeated.
Draco nodded. "A guardian. Mainly for dementors. It runs best off your happiest memory. He used one of those to chase away the dementor."
"I'm glad he did," said Ginny, snivelling. Ron rubbed her shoulder. "It was so horrifying... I've never seen anything so... so..." she shivered, and that seemed to say enough.
"I'm the only one who fell off my seat?" Harry asked.
"Yes.. Well, you're the only one who... anything. We all felt bad, but you were the only one who had a real reaction." Hermione said, shaking her head and looking faint.
It didn't make any sense. Harry felt weak and cold, as if he was just getting over a very bad sickness. He felt horribly ashamed when thinking about how he had such a drastic reaction when no one else had.
Lupin had reentered the compartment, disrupting Harry's train of thought. He paused as he looked around, before, with a small smile, said, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know."
Harry took a bite of the slab and suddenly felt warmth spread all across his body.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Lupin said. "Are you feeling alright, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Harry answered, but it didn't pass his notice that Lupin looked admittedly relieved.
Eventually, Ginny left, then Lyra and Luna returned to their own compartment, and Neville had left too. It was silent for the remainder of the journey. Finally, the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station, and there was a scramble to get outside. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and Harry could hear Hydrus hissing above it all, telling something to shut up. It was freezing on the platform, and the rain didn't help.
"Firs' years this way!" Called out a familiar voice. Standing tall over all the students, stood the large outline of Hagrid on the other end of the platform, beckoning the new students for their traditional journal across the lake. Albeit, it was harder moving around when there were more first years than Harry had ever seen.
"Alright there, yeh lot?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the moving crowd. They waved and smiled at him, unable to stop by and chat. The six of them followed the rest of the school along the platform onto a rough track where atleast a hundred stagecoaches awaited students. When they all got in theirs, it set off, run by jet-black horses with very bony wings.
The coach smelled of mould and straw, and Padma looked like if they ran over a rock too abruptly she'd be sick all over them. Harry felt the same as she looked; Much better since the chocolate, although still weakly. The others had been looking at him worriedly as if he'd collapse again.
Suddenly, Lisa groaned. "I've got to preform when we get up to the school. I'm in the Frog Choir."
"You're in the Frog Choir?" Ron asked.
"Of course I am, you think my voice sounds this smooth naturally? It's not easy, you know, trying to sing over croaking frogs! I've been in since last year. I can't imagine the catching up I’ll have to do. The club had closed last year because we weren’t allowed to leave our common rooms after you got Petrified," Lisa said, and Padma laughed.
"She was singing back over summer whenever I wasn't paying attention, but I don't know how she even got to practice when we were in school since we're always with her," she said.
The carriage ride had seemed to get smoother as they spoke more and more, until the carriage approached a pair of iron gates, which were, to say the least, quite magnificent. There were two more towering, hooded dementors on either side.
Another wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf Harry again; His head was aching and his chest was tight. He closed his eyes and kept them tightly shut until they passed the dementors, and couldn't help the breath that escaped him.
"I'm not sure how much we should let Harry out until Black's caught if he's acting like this," said Draco.
"I'll be fine." Harry said quickly.
"Haz, they were outside for atleast five seconds, and you looked like you were about to faint." said Ron. "I agree with Malfoy here-- I'm not sure how much of that you can take, mate. They're gonna be at every entrance."
"I'll be fine, I swear," Harry said as the carriage swayed to a halt.
"We've definitely got different ideas of what 'fine' is for you." Lisa smiled, getting out.
As Harry got out the carriage, a grating voice spoke.
"Hey Potter-- is it true? You fainted on the train?"
Ameliane Runcorn stood before them, laughing, Pansy Parkinson by her side, although the latter had looked quite appalled.
"Longbottom's told us that you fainted." Runcorn giggled. "Scared of a dementor, are you, Potter?"
"Runcorn-- what do you want now?" Padma said, exiting the carriage with Hermione and Lisa following.
"I want to know if Longbottom told us the truth. Did you faint on the train or not, Potter? Answer the bloody question."
"Sod off, Runcorn, we haven't got the time today," said Ron.
"Is there a problem here?" said a mild voice. Lupin had just gotten out the next carriage.
Runcorn gave a horrible snarl. "Of course not... er, Professor." She had been staring at the patches in his robes. "Just a slight misunderstanding is all. Pansy, let's go, we wouldn't want to miss the feast." she said blankly, and Parkinson followed her up to the castle.
"Let's go, I don't want to miss the feast this year either," said Hermione, urging them all up the stairs. The six of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant front doors, and into the brightly-lit entrance hall.
The door to the Great Hall was wide open, waiting for all the students to pass through, but Harry barely got to see the enchanted ceiling when a voice called; "Potter! I want to see you!"
The both of them turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was an incredibly stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun, and her sharp eyes were framed with spectacles. Harry shoved his way over to her with an odd feeling.
"There's no need to look so worried. I just want a word in my office." Professor McGonagall told him, but it didn’t make him feel very much better. He was still feeling quite sick. "Move along there," she said to students trying to listen in.
She ushered him away from the crowd; She led him across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and down a corridor.
When they had gotten to her office-- a small room with a large, warm fire, compared to the cold weather outside, Professor McGonagall motioned for him to sit down-- he was far too glad to oblige. She sat down behind her desk and spoke before either of them could voice their questions, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."
Harry made to reply, but before he could get a word out, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, came bustling in.
Harry went red in the face. It was bad enough people knew he had "fainted" on the train, or whatever had happened, but he'd prefer it if people wouldn't make such a fuss about it.
"No, ma'am, I'm alright," he said quickly, "I feel much better now, it's nothing to worry about--"
"Oh, of course it's you, isn't it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring his protests. "I suppose you've gotten in trouble again?"
"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.
The two exchanged a look, and Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
"Setting dementors around a school-- of all places," she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair to feel his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes-- he's all clammy, looking real sick... feverish, tired eyes.... Horrible things, dementors, and how they affect people who've gone through worse-‐ those that are already very delicate--"
"I'm not delicate!" Harry said sharply, but Madam Pomfrey sent him a look saying she thought otherwise.
"Yes, yes, sure you're not," she said blankly, taking his pulse.
"Will he need anything?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Bed rest? Should he spend a few hours in the hospital wing?"
"Ma'am, I swear-- I'm fine--" tried Harry, trying to lay his hair back down. He couldn't be in the hospital wing on the first day back; He didn't want to be either.
"Well, he should have some chocolate at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, turning Harry's head to peer into his eyes.
"I've already had some," he said, shrugging her off. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave all of us in the compartment some."
"Did he now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "We've finally got a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"
"Are you sure you're alright, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall once more.
"I'm sure,"
"Very well. Poppy, that will be all."
Madam Pomfrey left for the hospital wing, nodding while muttering to herself. Then Professor McGonagall took him back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall; It was a large sea of pointed hats. Each table, one for every House, had been lined with students, all of them glimmering under the light of thousands of candles overhead. Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor and Harry's Head of House, was holding a long roll of parchment and calling out names.
“Calsteen, Dorothy!”
A short girl, looking very eager, was smiling as she sat on the stool and the Sorting Hat was lowered on her head. The rip at the brim opened wide, and its voice rang through the hall--
“GRYFFINDOR!”
New students at Hogwarts were sorted by trying on the rugged hat, also known as the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. Professor McGonagall strode to her empty seat at the staff table while Harry and Hermione set off for their separate tables. People were looking at them as they passed along the side of the halls, and few pointed at Harry. News of him collapsing hadn't spread that quickly, had it?
Harry sat between Padma and Luna.
"How much did I miss?"
"Not a lot," said Luna. "Only three students have been sorted, I think."
"So, what happened in McGonagall's office?" asked Padma.
"I'll tell you later," Harry said, as the next student was called up.
"Culden, Mary!"
"Dixon, Alex!", went to Hufflepuff, followed by who was presumably his brother, Tommy, then Doherty, Adam, was sorted into Slytherin, and Elliot, Heather, was in Gryffindor. Harry wasn't paying very much attention-- to his surprise, the Sorting was not nearly as enjoyable when he wasn't being sorted-- but the next name certainly caught his attention.
“Evans-Black, Quinn!”
His heart had felt as thought it’d really stopped, or perhaps it was the sudden murmuring from the rest of the hall that made it harder to hear. A little boy with dark red hair and bright silver eyes sat on the stool-- for a moment, Harry thought it must've been a joke- Black wasn't a totally uncommon surname in the Muggle world, and he and Quinn looked nothing alike. It had to be some practical joke. But his mind was suddenly changed when he noticed Quinn's eyes while he stared up at the hat while it was lowered onto his head. He had the exact same diamond-shaped pupils Harry did.
Brilliant. Really, really brilliant.
So the letter he received from Black was real.
His thoughts were abruptly cut short when the hat shouted-- "SLYTHERIN!"
Quinn took his seat among his new House, and Harry tried his hardest to avoid trying to get a glimpse at him again.
The sorting continued for some time-- Harry was growing quite tired of staring at the table-- until finally, the Sorting Ceremony was over, and finally, it was time for the Frog Choir to perform. Harry could see Lisa glaring at a frog nearby that had been croaking particularly loudly and out of key, and the sight made him feel a little better.
Once the Choir had finished and all of them had taken their seats, Dumbledore stood up.
Dumbledore, though incredibly old, gave quite the grand impression; He looked much like how you'd imagine the wizard in fairy tales. Both his hair and beard were several feet long, he had half-moon spectacles that you could just make out from afar, and a crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, and it made sense, Harry supposed. He was as wise as he seemed barmy, and he definitely was that.
"Welcome!" He said. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all. And as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."
He cleared his throat and continued. "As you all will be 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."
He paused, looking anything but pleased. Infact, he looked quite the opposite.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry could've sworn Dumbledore was looking at him. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses... to be forgiving.. 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 Head Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors."
Dumbledore paused again, and took a look around the hall. It was incredibly silent, for nobody had moved or spoken.
"On a happier note," he started up again. "I am pleased to welcome a few 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."
There was scattered, unenthusiastic applause. Only the ones who had been in the compartment with Lupin clapped genuinely, Harry included. Admittedly, Lupin did look shabby compared next to the other teachers in their nice robes, but Harry thought he looked quite well and a bit more alive than he did on the train.
“Our teacher’s name is practically wolf-wolf,” Padma said, but then she suddenly snorted. When Harry looked at her oddly, she whispered with a grand smile, "Look at Snape!”
Professor Snape, the Potions teacher, was staring at Lupin from across the table. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, but his current expression was shocking; It was loathing. A particular kind of loathing glare that Snape saved especially for his least favourite people. Harry knew it very well-- it was one he saw Snape with every time he looked at Harry.
"As to our second appointment," Dumbledore continued as the weak applause died down. "I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, or 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 say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on the job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
There was more scattered applause, albeit, much more collected-- specifically at Gryffindor table. Harry leaned to the side to see Hagrid, who was a scarlet red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, a wide grin hidden in his tangle of a beard.
"Oh! Of course Hagrid's the new teacher! It makes so much sense now," said Lisa, silently fuming, though still clapping. "Kettleburn wouldn't assign us a biting book!"
When Dumbledore began to speak again, introducing the other teachers-- really just new teachers for remedial classes-- Hagrid had been wiping his eyes on a tablecloth.
"Well I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore, "let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets filled themselves with food and drink. Harry was suddenly hungrier than ever, and reaching for all he could. His head was still hurting.
It was a delicious feast as usual; The hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clattering of utensils. All Harry could think about was Quinn. It felt as though he’d spent a decade, staring at his plate and really, really trying to not turn around and stare.
"Harry?" Luna had tapped his shoulder. "You haven't touched any of your food. You haven't touched anything on your plate, but you got a lot of food, anyway. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, picking up his knife and fork. "Just... thinking, is all."
When the last of tart had melted from the platters, Dumbledore gave word that it was time for them all to go to bed. Padma and Lisa decided it would be their chance to speak with Hagrid. Harry thought he was very ready to go on to bed, but he found he was wanting to have anything to clear his mind-- and he doubted sleeping would do that very well.
"Congratulations, Hagrid," said Lisa as they reached the teachers' table, as Padma muttered about biting books with a forced smile.
"All thanks to you lot," said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his napkin. "Can' 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--"
He buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed off Lisa and Padma. She was looking at Harry as if he’d broken a rule already. But then, she said, “Mr Potter, I’m not... entirely sure if you’d already know, but--”
She turned around and nodded at someone. Behind her back, Harry caught a small bit of dark red hair-- and he was sure within the moment that he knew who it was.
"This is Quinn," McGonagall continued, and she stepped aside when she noticed he was standing behind her. He was staring at Harry with a blank sort of look on his face. "Your younger brother."
"I'm... glad to meet you," Quinn said hesitantly. He was suddenly not staring at Harry, but now at the floor and looking very anxious. "Um... I've been looking forward to seeing you all day."
Harry looked at him carefully. He looked older than any of the other first years to start, he thought-- where they were all very wide-eyed and kind of pouty, he was staring at the floor and looking as if he'd never been more bored in his life. But now, he was looking just like them.
"Hi," Harry murmured. "Nice to meet you."
Quinn's face relaxed, and a smile appeared. "Well, I'm glad to have... finally met you. Um-- I'd better go now. Adam's waiting for me."
And then, he was gone.
"Well, you get to your own dorm, Potter," said McGonagall, and Harry nodded. He was more ready than before to go right to sleep.
Harry dragged himself up the marble staircase. It felt longer than it truly was, along corridors, up many flights of stairs, and to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room. The Eagle knocker opened its wings wide, but did not ask a riddle. Instead, it asked--
“Password?”
Password? Password ? They had a password this year? It had only been a day and Harry had already gotten locked out. Of all the days this might've happened, it just had to be the first night back. He might’ve been waiting outside for about ten minutes before Professor Flitwick showed up.
“Why are you sitting outside, Mr Potter?”
Harry forced his head off the wall with much effort, blinking tiredness out his eyes. “Because I don’t know the password, Professor.”
“Ah," hummed Professor Flitwick. "Elaboration.”
And finally, the door opened.
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said, and he didn’t wait for Professor Flitwick to say another word before bidding him goodnight and going to his dorm.
This was not going to be the normal year he hoped it'd be.