Chapter 106

The train continued northward, the rain growing heavier; outside the windows, the scenery had grown dim, and the lanterns along the corridor and overhead racks glowed with a silvery-gray light. The train still rattled, rain fell like hammers, and the wind howled.

The cabin grew colder; the clattering of the moving train ceased, and the wind and rain outside the windows sounded louder than usual.

Harry stood behind Lupin, watching the dim corridor with tension; his instinct told him this was no good omen.

After a violent jolt, the train came to a stop, and distant luggage clattered against each other. Then, without warning, all the lights went out at once, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a soft, crisp sound, the tip of Lupin’s wand began to glow, illuminating the entire carriage—and a shadow drifting slowly toward them from outside.

Lupin opened the door. Harry saw the revolting sight: a cloak-shaped shadow, its face entirely hidden beneath its hood. It extended a hand, scabbed and the color of mud or a corpse soaked in water.

It appeared for only half a second. Beneath the cloak, the figure seemed to sense Harry’s gaze and suddenly retracted its hand into the folds of the black cloak.

The thing defied all reason. Whatever it was, its long, uneven breathing sounded as if it sought to suck all the air from around them.

A powerful chill swept over them. Harry felt his breath nearly stop. The cold pierced deeper than his skin—it sank into his chest, and he felt as if his eyes had rolled back into his skull, his ears filled with water.

“Expecto Patronum,” Lupin whispered. A thick cloud of white smoke erupted from his wand tip, driving the creature in the cloak away. Harry regained some awareness; a warm sensation spread from between his fingers.

“What was that?” Harry said, still shaken.

“Dementors. Guards of Azkaban,” Lupin said. “The Patronus Charm is the only spell that can repel them.”

“Back to your post! Black isn’t here!” Harry heard Johnny’s voice. He noticed the cloak-creature standing near a compartment door, from which a white mist of the Patronus Charm also glowed.

“You’re telling me what to do?” Johnny snapped. “I inspected this train myself. Now get out.”

“Can Dementors communicate?” Harry asked, certain Johnny wasn’t talking to himself.

“Yes, some Aurors can communicate with them through magic,” Lupin nodded. “But Dementors have little intelligence and no morality.”

“Johnny mentioned there’d be guards at the school,” Ron recalled the dinner-time rumor. “Could these things be showing up at Hogwarts?”

“It seems so,” Lupin said, concerned. “Perhaps I should add the Patronus Charm to the curriculum.”

“Oh, Ginny,” Ron said. “I’m worried about her. I think I should go back to our compartment.”

“Harry, you go back too. Oh, and remember to eat some chocolate,” Zhang Qiu handed him a large chocolate bar. “Distribute some to everyone.”

Harry noticed Zhang Qiu’s demeanor was perfectly calm—she showed no sign of distress—and nodded, preparing to return to their compartment with Ron.

No sooner had he stepped out than Harry was startled to see a silver-white lion at the end of the corridor—but when he blinked to get a clearer look, the lion vanished.

Back with Ginny and Ivy, Harry saw the two girls were also unaffected; Johnny had been in their compartment, and snack wrappers littered the table. They each ate Chocolate Frogs, clearly untroubled.

They discussed Dementors and the Patronus Charm. Ginny vividly recounted how Johnny had driven off the creature; then Ivy began describing how Johnny amused them by wiggling his ears and juggling Sugar Quills, even attempting to toss one high and catch it in her mouth—only for it to fall to the floor, where several others already lay scattered.

Ginny always caught the Sugar Quills perfectly—whether with her mouth or her hand. Harry tried once; he found the trick wasn’t hard at all—much easier than catching the Golden Snitch.

“Hey, Ginny!” Harry said cheerfully. “I think you’ve got real talent. Want to try out as a Seeker?”

“What?” Ginny looked confused.

“Your dynamic vision and hand-eye coordination,” Harry said. “You’re in second year now anyway. Why not try out for the team? That way we’d have two Seekers—we could develop more tactical options.”

Ginny’s ears turned red. Harry thought this reddening of the ear tips must be a Weasley family trait.

“Would you like it?” Ginny whispered. “Would it even suit me?”

“Isn’t Quidditch too rough for girls?” Ivy added.

“No, no, no—I think it might suit you perfectly,” Harry said quickly. “Our tactical reserves are too thin. If we had a Seeker who could work better as part of the team, we could pull ahead more decisively in favorable situations.”

“I always find the Snitch fast, but if I’m not chasing it, I have no idea what to do,” Harry encouraged her. “You’re different—your brothers have played every position. You can integrate well with the whole team.”

“Alright, I’ll give it a try,” Ginny said, gathering courage.

“Same here,” Ron said. “Wood’s in seventh year this year. I’m going to try out for Keeper. I think he needs a successor.”

“You remember the Mirror of Erised’s vision, right?” Harry grinned. “The Weasleys are our kings?”

For the rest of the journey, Harry and Ron excitedly recounted stories from the Quidditch pitch; the two girls listened with longing expressions. Finally, with a long whistle, the train stopped.

As the returning carriages passed through the gates, Harry noticed two Dementors guarding the school’s iron gates. He could only hope Lupin would begin teaching the Patronus Charm soon—these creatures made him feel utterly uneasy.

Before the feast, Dumbledore repeated the warning: “I urge everyone not to leave the school without permission. Dementors cannot be fooled by tricks or disguises—not even by the Cloak of Invisibility.”

Harry was certain this was Dumbledore’s warning to him. Perhaps Dementors did not rely on sight to track criminals.

“Now, there is one more piece of good news,” he continued. “This year, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks.”

“First, Professor Remus Lupin, who has agreed to serve as our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

Amid scattered applause, Harry noticed Snape’s face was grim—clearly, rumors had circulated that he wanted the position. Last year, when Donald took over, his mood had been stable; now, seeing his expression, Harry could only hope the magical world had psychologists.

“And Professor Teddy Pien, who will teach Muggle Studies.”

Harry noticed that since entering the school, Johnny’s elite Auror demeanor had vanished entirely. He was now shaking his head, winking, and grinning at the children like a child himself.

No wonder he was called the Tiger of the Auror Office—this natural, effortless disguise left Harry awestruck. He even wondered if the star Auror was the disguise, and this was truly Professor Bean’s true nature.

“In fact, we have more than two new professors. Our old friend Rubeus Hagrid will replace the retired Kettleburn as professor of Care of Magical Creatures.”

At this, applause erupted from Gryffindor first, then filled the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle, who ate two chickens a week, shouted the loudest. No child disliked the hospitable Hagrid—even Ron, who had often complained about his pets being too dangerous, now banged the table and laughed heartily.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “I believe it is time to announce something very important: the feast begins!”

Suddenly, golden plates before them overflowed with food, and goblets brimmed with drinks. It was a delicious feast; the hall rang with laughter and the clinking of cutlery.

Harry planned to find Hagrid after dinner to speak with him—he knew how meaningful this was for Hagrid. From Dippet to Dumbledore, all had quietly blamed his spider for the Chamber attacks—but now, at last, he knew Hagrid’s name was cleared.

When they finished the last bite of the pumpkin that nearly melted the golden platters, Dumbledore announced it was time for bed. As Harry and Ron passed the teachers’ table, they sincerely congratulated Hagrid, who was wildly emotional, babbling thanks.

To control his emotions, he buried his face in his napkin, forcing Professor McGonagall to shoo them away with a hiss.

As Harry climbed the marble stairs, he already felt tired. He heard Percy loudly and endlessly repeating the password for “Lucky Major” to every child who forgot it—he admired the bureaucrat’s boundless energy.

Back in the round dormitory, looking at his soft bed, the bookshelf filled with novels, the jumping cauldron on top of his wardrobe, and his friendly roommates, Harry felt a warm sense of being home.