Chapter 522: New Professor

People ran past the door of their compartment.

The young wizards chatted excitedly about Hogsmeade, occasionally glancing at the sleeping new professor.

Wizard Sean also took the opportunity to observe Lupin’s condition.

He still looked worn out, which was only natural—he had gone without sleep for days interviewing candidates for the new wizard shop manager.

But his clothing had improved considerably, though he still clung to his patched garments.

He still carried that suitcase; Wizard Sean knew his own Transfiguration magic couldn’t last that long, so Lupin had sustained the spell himself.

Lupin always remembered every kindness.

Perhaps he had received too little kindness, like some young wizard.

The train rolled onward, and Wizard Sean gradually sank into the ocean of magical history.

He held his unfinished *Chronicle of Wizarding Magic*, sitting nearly motionless, occasionally tapping a finger to turn the pages automatically.

At one o’clock, the plump witch pushing the food cart arrived at their compartment door.

“Should we wake him up?”

Ron nodded toward Professor Lupin, asking uncertainly,

“He looks like he needs something to eat.”

Hermione cautiously approached Professor Lupin.

“Er—Professor?”

She said,

“I’m sorry—Professor?”

He didn’t move.

“Come see—this is yours—”

Hermione turned to Jia Jia Siting.

“He’s exhausted, Hermione. He spent two days and nights selecting qualified wizard shop managers.”

Jia Jia Siting said helplessly.

“Don’t worry, dear,”

the cart witch stepped in, handing Jia Jia Siting a stack of cauldron-shaped cakes as she spoke,

“If he wakes up hungry, I’m up front with the driver.”

“I think he’s just asleep?”

Ron whispered after the witch closed the sliding door,

“I mean—he’s not dead, is he?”

“He’s still breathing,”

Hermione whispered, taking the cauldron-shaped cake Jia Jia Siting offered her.

Professor Lupin wasn’t a great travel companion, but having him in their compartment was still useful.

Around three or four in the afternoon, rain began to fall, blurring the rolling hills outside the window.

At that moment, the young wizards heard footsteps in the aisle, then three people they disliked appeared at the door.

Draco Malfoy, flanked on either side by his two cronies: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Malfoy had a pale, sharp face, always twisted in a sneer, in Slytherin House.

He was the Seeker for Slytherin’s Quidditch team, just as one of the young wizards—Harry—was for Gryffindor.

Of course, neither had ever defeated a Ravenclaw Seeker.

Yes, that’s what everyone said—if you somehow beat Ravenclaw, the furious Ravenclaws would summon their true core.

Wood always felt powerless about this—he’d never even seen the Ravenclaw train, so how could he defeat him?

“Hey, look who’s here.”

Malfoy pulled open the compartment door, speaking in his lazy, drawling tone,

“Snot and dead chickens.”

Crabbe and Goyle laughed like ogres.

“Wait—”

Malfoy suddenly raised his hand to stop their laughter.

He looked over with an uneasy gaze Harry had never seen before—he could see the black-haired young wizard now reading intently.

Hearing their noise, he frowned.

“Stop laughing—”

Malfoy whispered to his followers.

Crabbe and Goyle naturally fell silent upon seeing the occupant of the compartment.

No wizard who had attended the Dueling Club would underestimate a book-loving young wizard—if they did, they’d never been taken down in a single blow.

“I heard your father finally got some gold again this summer,”

Malfoy whispered to Ron,

“Did your mother faint from shock?”

Though his whisper lacked force, Ron sprang to his feet, knocking over Crookshanks’s basket.

At that moment, Lupin grunted.

“Who’s that?”

Malfoy said, instinctively stepping back upon seeing Lupin.

“New teacher.”

Harry stood up too, ready to pull Ron back if needed,

“What were you saying, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s gray eyes narrowed.

He wasn’t a fool—he wouldn’t provoke trouble under a teacher’s nose.

Besides, he’d only come to mock.

Otherwise, to start a fight under the gaze of some young wizard—disturbing his reading—no Hogwarts wizard had the nerve.

“Let’s go.”

He said cheerfully to Crabbe and Goyle.

The three vanished. Harry and Ron sat back down; Ron rubbed his knuckles.

“This term, I won’t tolerate another word from Malfoy.”

He growled,

“I mean it—if he dares insult my family again, I’ll grab his head—”

Ron made a violent gesture in the air.

“Ron, you’re a wizard—”

Hermione snapped in reminder.

“Oh!”

Ron suddenly seemed to realize something, his eyes lighting up.

How could he forget? His second year at Hogwarts hadn’t been a single day wasted!

“I’ve got eight curses—look…”

Ron said excitedly, but Hermione shot him a furious glare, pointing at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in their seat.

He had woken up.

“Hello. Seems lively in here.”

Lupin rubbed his bloodshot eyes, voice hoarse.

“Mr. Lupin.”

Hermione said.

“Hello, Miss Granger.”

Lupin smiled.

“How did you—”

Hermione gasped.

They’d seen Lupin’s suitcase—but how did he know her name?

Lupin smiled, then looked at the book Hermione had open—the first page bore the young witch’s name and her year.

“Oh…”

Hermione blushed.

“Third-year student, then… do you know a wizard named Green?”

Lupin asked.

“Why are you looking for him?”

Ron asked, curious but wary.

“It seems he’s quite famous at Hogwarts.”

Lupin smiled again, genuinely amused,

“How about this reason: collecting my wages? I’ve always wanted to meet him face to face… to collect.”

Hermione and Harry didn’t fully believe his excuse, but Ron was thoroughly intrigued:

“He’s right…”

As they spoke, the train raced northward, the rain growing heavier, the windows turning into a watery gray that gradually darkened.