Chapter Three
SOMETHING TALL PASSED before our compartment, tall and gaunt, and a shiver went down my spine, drowning me in darkness. I could hear the muffled batter of my heart against my chest as it disappeared to the depts of the corridor.
"What — was — that — ruddy — thing —?!" Cassius breathed out, and his terrified gaze fell over mine. All blood had drained from his face.
"Dementor," I muttered, coming back to my senses. "One of the guards of Azkaban. Searching for Sirius Black."
I did not know why the Dementor searched on a train filled with students. Perhaps my blood was too tempting to the one Sirius Black carried up in his veins.
The strangeness ended as quickly as it began, and soon, the lights flickered back to life, and so did the train's engine.
I sank to my seat, counting my breaths. Cassius was scratching his head, disoriented as I was.
Soon, the journey was over, and the train slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade station, icy sheets of rain pounding the windows.
The wind restlessly howled on the muddy platform crowded with students rushing out of the train as the rain whipped our cloaks. I was no exception. My skin tingled from the unforgiving cold as the gale blew my cloak in firm movements.
At last, we managed to spot Adrian and his brown hair battered under the heavy rain. "You're freezing, Daph," he said. "Here, put my cloak over yours. It's not much, but it should be enough to warm you."
"No, Adrian. I'm fine. You need it more than I."
He crossed his arms, not charmed by my reply.
"I'm serious. Really. It's all fine as long as we get on the stagecoaches in one piece."
Then, he nodded, and the three of us trailed after the older students to the rough mud track, trying our very best not to get swayed by the wind.
On the track, wrapped in heavy rainfall, awaited at least a hundred stagecoaches, all grand. We hopped into the first one we found as the rain persisted in pounding the muddy ground through the thick clouding of the trees.
Then Adrian cleared his throat, and I noticed a stranger too old to be a student sitting with us. And it hit me. The light brown hair, freckled with grey strands; the shabby robes; the tired, sunken face; it all was that stranger at Yorkshire.
I shared a side glance with Cassius — silenced by the knowledge mounting over our tongues.
The stranger tore his gaze from the tiny window to us, and I caught a glimpse of the weariness laying over the hazel of his eyes. He must have felt our awkward stares if not heard the creaking sound of the door.
"Good evening," he greeted us with a muted smile. "I'm Professor Lupin. I'll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."
I was more than glad that he ripped the uneasiness heaving over us.
"Good evening, Professor," replied Adrian. "I'm Adrian Pucey."
"Cassius Avery, sir."
"Black," I said bracingly. The Black name came before mine. And he looked suddenly distraught. "I'm Daphne Black, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"What a corking night, right?" said Cassius.
"Very," Adrian responded mockingly.
"I could not have said better myself." The Professor chuckled faintly, almost as if he had grown foreign to the concept.
And then, the stagecoach came to a halt, a drawing voice filling the quietness of the carriage.
"You've fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
"Who's that?" asked the Professor, his brows drawn back.
"Did you faint as well, Weasley? Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"
"Draco," I said. "Draco Malfoy. My cousin."
He nodded, and hopped off the carriage with us. "Is there a problem?" His tone carried its mildness, and I wondered how he maintained such a posture.
Draco's pale eyes travelled down the Professor's robes, as we had done all those nights ago. "Oh, no — er — Professor. Not at all."
He shared a smirk with his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, who filled their lack of brain with their massive sizes. They joined the crowd leading up to the castle, and so did Potter and his friends; and Cassius and Adrian.
"You should really consider putting a leash on that brat," said a voice behind me. "All he ever does is bark but no bite."
I spun on my heel, and saw the tall redhead, his hair swaying under the wind.
"Weasley," I blurted out, more like a question than an insult.
"Black."
"I don't have the energy to argue with you, Weasley. Not today."
He scoffed. "Like I wanted to argue with you."
"That's kind of all you ever do!"
"That's all you ever do!"
"Ugh! You're insufferable, George!"
"You're the one who's insufferable, Black!" George Weasley shouted behind my back as my feet carried me all the way up to the Hogwarts Castle.
I was at the top of the stairs, swarmed by the sea of students, when I saw the flashes of red again, speaking rapidly as he always did. "Ha, got you, Black! I'm not George," he grinned proudly. "I'm Fred."
"No, you're George, and I'm not daft, Weasley. I have eyes." The grin on his face fell flat, and his brows pulled close, exposing the freckles all around his nose. "Go play your silly tricks to some other Slytherin you-oh-so-despise."
"How d'you know?" he asked blatantly.
From the freckles on your face, I wanted to say.
"Your twin isn't as nearly annoying as you are."
"That's silly."
"You're the one who's silly."
"Weasley," came Cassius' voice, like venom on his tongue.
George's stance suddenly propelled, and I noticed the latter towering over the former. "Avery," he spoke coldly, then left.
"Why are you speaking to that Blood-Traitor?" asked Cassius as we took our seats on the table embedded with silver and emerald.
"Speaking to who?" I asked, cold and sharp, mirroring the boy glaring at the scarlet table. "There are plenty of them, those Blood-Traitors."
"Weasley," he spat, as if the name caused pain for him to speak. "If I had not gone out, searching for you —"
"Nothing would've changed, Cassius."
"Like hell, it wouldn't —!"
"Oi! What's your issue, you two," Adrian whispered harshly, his bright blue eyes boring into ours, smudged with suspicion.
"What's my issue?" Cassius scoffed, "Nothing if my best pal quits associating herself with bad blood."
I smacked his arm, and opened my mouth to tell him off, but Dumbledore's voice boomed in the Great Hall before mine.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore announced to the sea of pointed black hats, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I've got a few things to say, as one of them is quite serious. I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all 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."
The elderly wizard's gaze flickered to mine, and I felt my stomach dropping to the pits of the dungeons.
They feared Sirius Black might go out of his way to infiltrate the castle. Then, Grandmother's words echoed in my head, painting that very night when she told me the truth — half of the truth, what I must know.
There are things I wish you never learn, I remember. About that man you must call father.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission," he spoke gently.
It is time for you to grow out of your childish fantasies, Daphne. He abandoned you, as he did to so many. But don't take it to your heart. That is just how he was.
"Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses."
The night he was imprisoned, he committed the most feracious of acts. But I don't hold it against him, neither should you. Good riddance, it was. Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors alike.
"Therefore, I 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 make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."
But he also ditched you to the hands of death that night, Daphne. If the Aurors had not found you, you might have been dead.
"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
I joined the less than enthusiastic crowd, clapping for the arrival of our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, its sound mingling with the whispers spanning across the grand tables.
He did not love you as I do — if he ever did, it is.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the applause for Professor Lupin died away.
He was a man of lies.
"Well, I am sorry to tell you that 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 say that his place will get filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
He wore his lies as a tie to his suits, dear.
There was a pause, then an uproar of applause rising from the red and gold table, slowly infecting the rest of the hall.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"
Golden plates and goblets glowed under the candlelight, flooding with food. I turned my head to look at Cassius, and he looked up at me.
There was much to say, much to speak, but, for once, we did not say it. There would be other times for speaking, tonight and tomorrow and all the days after that. We had all the time we ever wanted, we ever needed. He let go of his gaze and plunged into the food; and left me seated there, twisted by my thoughts.