Chapter 105

The train began to move, swiftly pulling away like a rushing current, and Harry soon lost sight of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on the platform. He and Ron sat in the compartment across from Ginny and Ivy, all four laughing and chatting, completely ignoring the escaped convict, Black.

“Oh, Harry, I need to tell you something.” Not long after the train departed, Harry noticed Zhang Qiu standing outside the compartment.

Harry had no desire to have these three girls, who all disliked each other, clustered around him. He stood up and said, “Let’s go outside to talk.”

“Oh, Ron, you’d better come listen too,” Zhang Qiu said.

“Fine,” Ron glanced at the two little sisters inside the compartment; their expressions were far from pleasant.

Zhang Qiu led the two of them through the noisy compartments, straight to the end of the train, where a man leaned against the window, fast asleep—deeply, unmistakably so. His wizard’s robe was patched in several places, his light brown hair streaked with gray. Harry was certain this man’s life was far from respectable.

“Who is he?” Harry whispered. “The label on his trunk says R.J. Lupin. Could he be the new professor?”

“Yes. And his fate has been struck by collision,” Zhang Qiu said, her tone tinged with sympathy.

“What does that mean?” Harry was baffled.

“My master taught me a new spell, requiring me to cast it on him at a specific time,” Zhang Qiu said without hesitation. “To mend his shattered fate and prevent a tragic outcome.”

“What spell?” Harry asked. “Similar to the seven secret spells before?”

“No, entirely different. I don’t even know what it does yet.” She looked troubled. “This year, there are far too many things to watch for. My master wants me to confirm the divination results quickly, because something terrible is about to happen. If we don’t gather enough fate offerings, all of us may be in mortal danger.”

“I think that thing has already happened—Sirius Black escaped,” Ron said.

“What I’m telling you is far worse than that,” she said, her voice heavy with worry. “Harry, for the rest of this year, whenever you do anything, please call me. I have to find a way to save everyone’s lives.”

Harry took the note Zhang Qiu handed him. It was filled with notes. Ron leaned in curiously to read.

“Classes, Quidditch matches, trips to Hogsmeade,” Harry immediately picked out a few items. “These were already planned. We can obviously go together.”

“But you wrote ‘Divination class: check kill.’ We didn’t choose Divination, and what does ‘check kill’ even mean?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Zhang Qiu sighed. “My master gave me this list. I just translated it into English. Anyway, let’s all try our best to attend at least one Divination class.”

“Learn the Patronus Charm, ride a Hippogriff, draw a map of Hogwarts.” Harry picked out several items he was eager to do. “I think your master gave me some excellent advice.”

“Oh, but this ‘Save the wrongfully accused nobleman’—is that referring to Malfoy?” Ron pressed on. “That’s kind of disgusting.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Harry comforted him. “Vague phrases like this only make sense when the event unfolds right before your eyes. And this ‘Super Big Disappearing Act’—who knows what it means?”

“Just remember it,” Zhang Qiu’s mood remained low.

“Actually, I’m more curious about what fate offerings are—and why collecting them matters,” Harry asked.

“Divination reveals the path fate should follow. When each divination is verified, the one who performed it gains a fate offering. But if the divination fails, the one who intervenes to make it come true gains the offering instead,” Zhang Qiu explained.

“As for what the offerings are, and how they affect our lives, my master told me…”

Harry and Ron waited attentively for her next words.

“He said he’d explain later.”

“I always thought this was just old wizard nonsense,” Ron scoffed. “Like that idiotic ‘Crying, twisting, and sobbing’ nonsense Dumbledore says every year.”

“He doesn’t say it randomly,” Harry said. “It reflects the bias of all four houses. Ravenclaw thinks everyone else is stupid. Slytherin thinks everyone else is trash. Gryffindor thinks everyone else is a crybaby. Hufflepuff thinks everyone else is stubborn. Children realize the headmaster is quietly urging them to drop their prejudices. So even when the old wizard’s words confuse you, they always carry deeper meaning.”

“Alright, then we’ll trust your master,” Ron placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No matter what lies ahead, we’ll face it together.”

“Let’s drop this heavy topic. Look, the cart vendor is coming,” Harry pointed ahead. “Want some snacks? That’ll cheer you up.”

“That’s not a vendor,” Zhang Qiu narrowed her eyes.

Only then did Harry notice the man pushing the cart wore a ridiculous floral apron and a white hat. At first glance, he looked like a vendor—but upon closer inspection, the prominent nose and darting eyes made it clear: it was Johnny in disguise.

“Oh, who’s this?” Johnny pulled out his wand the moment he reached the compartment door. “Step back, Harry. An adult on the train is suspicious—he could be Black!”

“That’s Professor Lupin,” Harry said. “Look, his trunk has his name on it.”

“Idiot!” Johnny snapped. “Even if he’s not Black, he could be Black’s ally. Who says he’s even a professor? Don’t be overconfident in your deductions—it’s dangerous!”

The three obeyed and left the compartment. Harry didn’t think the sleeping Professor Lupin was dangerous, but he respected the Auror’s judgment.

“Wake up, Professor… wake up…” Johnny advanced cautiously, wand raised. “Get up, or else…”

“Aguamenti!” Johnny suddenly shouted. A jet of water splashed onto Lupin’s face. Harry noticed his features contort in pain.

But Lupin didn’t wake. He turned his head and kept sleeping.

Johnny pinched his nose shut. Struggling for breath, Lupin finally opened his eyes. He looked weak.

“Who is it? What do you want?” he mumbled, barely making out the floral apron and white hat. “No thanks. I don’t want anything to eat.”

“I’m Johnny English of the Auror Office,” Johnny produced his credentials. “Why are you on this train? I have reason to suspect you’re connected to the escaped convict, Black!”

“Ah, yes,” Lupin sighed, reaching for his trunk.

“Here’s a letter from Dumbledore,” he said. “I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You can verify it.”

Johnny scrutinized the letter, then his attitude shifted noticeably.

“Sorry, Professor. I suspected you might be Black’s accomplice.” Johnny picked up some snacks from the cart. “Apologies for disturbing your nap. These snacks are my apology.”

Lupin, still half-asleep, automatically took the food.

“I still need to patrol the train, in case Black slips among the passengers,” Johnny pushed the cart away again. “Please keep an eye on Harry.”

Harry was certain he saw Johnny slip a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean into his mouth.

“Uh… Harry?” Lupin was coming to, looking at Harry with a faint smile.

“Hello, Professor Lupin,” Harry studied the new professor curiously. He worried this man might not survive the curse—Donald, a top American Auror, had been unjustly dismissed. Lupin looked impoverished, powerless. Harry was deeply concerned for him.

“I’m curious—what will you be teaching us this year?” Harry asked.

“Follow the textbook: identify dark creatures, learn targeted spells,” Lupin said. “From what I know, you two haven’t properly studied these in the past two years.”

“Actually, Donald taught us plenty of practical things,” Ron defended his favorite professor. “Tactical movement, combat techniques, Disarming Charm, and Shield Charm.”

“Yes, very practical,” Lupin nodded in agreement. “But unnecessary for second-years—and even third-years. Just learn how to handle dark creatures. The ones you occasionally encounter…”

“Like a Basilisk or a Acromantula?” Harry asked.

“Whoa!” Lupin made an exaggerated face. “I know what you did last year. I read the papers.”

“But Harry, many children aren’t as brave or talented as you,” Lupin said solemnly. “As a professor, we must care for the majority—not just the ones we favor.”

“By the way, Professor,” Harry remembered the divination notes. “Do you know the Patronus Charm?”

“Well, precisely—it falls under Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Lupin said. “If you’re interested, you can try learning it. Though chances to use it are rare.”

“What exactly does the Patronus Charm do?” Harry asked.

“Stand behind me, Harry,” Lupin drew his wand. “You’ll understand in a moment.”

Harry suddenly realized the compartment was growing cold.