The Hogwarts Express came to a screeching halt with a jolt and distant thuds and bangs which suggested luggage falling out of the racks. Without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
Ron felt his way cautiously to the window, he'd already trodden on Hermione's foot, he didn't want to do the same to the strange professor sleeping in the corner. He wiped a patch clean on the window and peered out.
'There's something moving out there,' he said. 'I think people are coming aboard...' he didn't like it, things felt very wrong.
The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell over as they came in.
'Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry...'
It was obviously Neville.
'Harry? Is that you? What's happening?'
'No idea! Sit down...'
There was a loud hiss and a yelp of pain as Neville tried to sit on Crookshanks, Hermione's new devil cat that kept glaring at Scabbers like it was the next dinner.
'I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on,' said Hermione in the darkness.
Ron heard the door and then a thud and two loud squeals and next Ginny was joining them with more noise and kerfuffle. Ron tried peering out of the window again but couldn't work out anything in the darkness.
'Quiet!' said a hoarse voice suddenly.
Ron froze as there was some shuffling from Professor Lupin's corner of the carriage. No one spoke.
There was a soft, crackling noise and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired grey face but his eyes were very alert and wary.
Remus had been listened vigilantly in the darkness, not acting but using the time to access the situation. Now was the time to move, he knew what had boarded the train - he felt them in his bones.
'Stay where you are,' he said, in the same hoarse voice and he got slowly to his feet with the flames held out in front of him.
The door slid open before Lupin could reach it and standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood and Ron knew he was relieved by that fact alone. It didn't stop the chill that entered the compartment with the strange figure. A chill which seeped into his very bones and sucked the life out of him. Especially when the creature drew in a long, slow, rattling breath as if it were trying to suck in more than the air.
The air became intensely colder as Ron felt his breath catch in his chest, like he was drowning and couldn't gasp for air.
He saw Harry go rigid and fall out of his seat but he couldn't move his limbs, he knew he had to get to Harry but he couldn't. That began to panic him, that he couldn't fight the cold and the paralysing fear but he knew he needed to...
Professor Lupin stepped over Harry's twitching body on the floor, with his wand pointing directly at the thing. 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' And when the thing, which Ron realised could only be a Dementor, didn't move, Lupin muttered something and a silvery light shot out of his wand at the Dementor so that it turned around and glided away, pulling the coldness with it.
Within moments the train lights came back on and the train started moving again.
Ron scrambled to Harry's side as his bestfriend started to come around.
'What happened,' said Harry as he and Hermione heaved him back into his seat. He was covered in a cold sweat. 'Who screamed?'
A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.
'Here, eat it. It'll help.
'What was that thing?' Harry asked.
'A Dementor,' said Lupin. 'One of the Dementors of Azkaban. Eat, Harry. I need to go and speak to the driver.'
No one questioned why Professor Lupin already knew Harry's name.
The carriage remained in silence for the last ten minutes of the journey into Hogsmeade and Remus sat back in his corner, overwhelmed with melancholy. Why did it have to be that memory? Why was it always that memory that made him the happiest and caused him the most pain? Maybe because he'd felt such despair just beforehand. That juxtaposition with his happiness made the emotions all that bit stronger. That and the fact that he'd wanted that moment for so long that he'd become used to the permanent dull ache in his heart. And now, sixteen years later, it brought it all back like it was yesterday; the belt pulled a little bit tighter around his chest.
He tried to turn away from such morbid thoughts. It was deeply disturbing that the Dementors had boarded the train unauthorised. He sensed rebellion lurking under the surface, he sensed they were near to breaking free of their bonds to the Ministry. The desire for fresh souls was too great. They were hungry. It was, after all, exactly what Albus had been warning the Ministry about but Fudge was a fucking imbecile and refused to acknowledge the dangers.
Draco was positively gleeful. Rumours had spread down the train that Potter had fainted and that pushed all his own terrors about the Dementors straight out of the window. He waited on the steps outside the school on purpose, deliberately lingering.
'You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?' he shoved past Granger to drawl delightfully in Potter's face.
'Is there a problem?' said a mild voice.
Draco looked up into the face of the new professor who had just stepped out of the last carriage. He took in the scars and the patches on his robes, the walking cane, and the dilapidated suitcase, feeling immediate distain for the wane and tired-looking man. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice but not enough to get him in trouble, he said, 'oh, no - er - Professor.' Then smirked and made his way up the steps followed by Vince and Greg.
This year, he thought to himself. This year he was going to get the better of Potter.
He heard Professor McGonagall call out, 'Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!' and he rolled his eyes, no doubt she was already pandering to her favourites. He tried to hang back but she spotted him, 'move along there, Malfoy. You too, Weasley.' Salazar, he was intrigued.
Still, he knew he had a good few days' worth of piss-taking ahead of him and whenever he saw Potter, he'd pretend to faint with terror and watched with delight as he got a reaction out of the boy. So much so that it was almost as if Potter couldn't help looking for him whenever they were in the same room, just to see if Draco was going to repeat his dramas. Draco liked that, though he didn't like to study the reasons too hard.
Then, wonderfully, more gossip reached his ears, when the Gryffindors were in Divination, Madame Trelawney had looked at Potter's tea leaves and seen The Grim... All the girls were in hysterics about it and Potty and the Weasel were wandering around with long faces as if Potty was about to drop down dead any day. Hopefully, anyway. Though preferably in front of him so he could laugh about it for The. Rest. Of. His. Life.
Minerva was feeling particularly irate about the whole 'Grim' business. The rumours were rife around the school that her Harry was about to face death again. She really could do without another year of neurotics but the whole term had started badly with Sirius Black on the loose and if she were so inclined to believe in portents and omens... well, luckily, she thought such things were utter rubbish.
Of course, the incident on the train was worrying, not least that the Dementors should board it in the first place - Albus was furious, but also that Harry should pass out. She decided that she must have a quiet word with Remus about teaching Harry how to cast a Patronus, she was certain he could manage it.
She also needed to be having a quiet word with Remus about another matter that she hadn't told anyone about: Harry had told her he'd seen a large black dog in Surrey the night he ran away. Of course, he wasn't to know its significance but she did.
Yes, she was definitely going to be having words with Remus, this wasn't a conversation she could have with anyone else, not without causing trouble at the Ministry and probably losing her job for withholding such information. Besides, there was no evidence that her suspicions were correct, it was all based on hypothetical questions asked by James Potter some sixteen or seventeen years ago.
She watched her third-year Gryffindors trudge into her Transfiguration classroom and Harry despondently took a seat at the back of the class as the rest of the class shoot him furtive glances. The class were barely paying attention as she told them about Animagus and nobody applauded when she changed into her tabby cat form.
'Goodness, what has got into you all today?' she exclaimed when she turned back.
When Hermione Granger put her hand up, she nodded.
'Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and...'
'Ah, of course, I heard,' said Minerva. 'No need to say any more, Miss Granger.' And despite knowing the answer, she asked, 'tell me, which of you will be dying this year?' She tried to disguise the sarcasm but failed.
Everyone stared at her.
'Me,' said Harry, finally.
'I see,' said Minerva, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. 'Then you should know, Mr Potter, that Sybil Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class...' she stopped herself from revealing to her class her complete distain for Divination and Sybil Trelawney because that would be entirely unprofessional. Instead she said, 'you look in excellent health, Harry, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.'
Harry looked slightly relieved and Ms Granger laughed. Mr Weasley still looked worried but she resumed her class, the third years somewhat mollified by her words.
The third years had a new class with Hagrid; Care of Magical Creatures. Draco couldn't deny he was excited, not that he let it show to any of his friends, that wouldn't do. There were somethings he never spoke about because he was secretly ashamed of them, like the fact that his mother had paid for him to learn the cello from a very early age and he was really good at it and he really liked playing some of the Muggle composer's works, which were far better than the Wizarding ones. Or that he loved escaping into the deer park at the Manor and sometimes he'd go and visit the groundsman so he could see the sheep or the cattle that roamed the agriculture land, or he'd collect eggs and pick up the chickens. Or that he really yearned to have two pet kneazles, his dream was they would be pure white and would follow him around his house. But none of those things truly sat with his pureblood image that his father nurtured and it confused him that his father allowed such things like playing the cello or collecting eggs. They were, he felt, a dirty secret and he kept them buried deep inside.
Still, he was glad to have an excuse to study Magical Creatures, it was just a shame that that great oaf, Hagrid was teaching the classes. His father said he was a half-breed and an abomination and shouldn't even be allowed on the school premises. Naturally, Draco would have to play up in front of his friends but that was made so much easier by the fact that they were going to be sharing their class with Gryffindors and he could square up to Potter at every opportunity and that idiot Hagrid would be too stupid to deal with it.
Draco was delighted that Hagrid started the class by immediately providing him with the opportunity to rip into the buffoon about the bloody book he'd told them to buy, mostly because he was annoyed that he hadn't been able to read it during the holidays; the two attempts he'd made had nearly resulted in him losing his fingers.
Of course, Potter stuck up for the imbecile.
'God, this place is going to the dogs,' said Draco loudly. 'That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him...'
'Shut up, Malfoy,' Potter said for the second time in thirty seconds.
'Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you...' he shouted across the clearing.
Draco only stopped tormenting Potter because Hagrid had reappeared and was leading a dozen Hippogriffs into the paddock. Luckily his friends were too distracted to notice Draco clamping his mouth shut when he realised it was hanging open. He'd always wanted to see a real one not just from the pictures in the books in the Manor's library.
'Beau'iful, aren' they?' Hagrid was saying and, yes, they were. Draco wanted to go over immediately and fuss one of the giant half-horse, half-bird creatures. He wanted to know everything about them. Greg was wittering on about something in his ear.
'What?' he snapped.
'Look at Hagrid,' Greg grunted. 'He's like a troll.'
Draco laughed, only because Hagrid looked like a Veela next to Greg.
Typically, Potter volunteered to do something in class for Hagrid but Draco wasn't really paying attention because Vince was suggesting they sneak off and vandalise Hagrid's vegetable patch.
'I'm not doing that!' he sneered. 'I'll get dirty.'
Plus, Draco wanted to stay for class.
'Well, you can watch me and Greg do it.'
'Don't be stupid,' Draco sneered. 'You'll damage the pumpkins he grows for Halloween and ruin the only thing the stupid oaf's good for...'
He was distracted by Potter actually climbing on the Hippogriff's back and the creature taking off. When Potter landed, he had a massive grin on his face and Draco felt jealousy claw at his chest.
Everyone clapped apart from him, Vince and Greg.
He scowled, wishing it were him. He wanted to be the one who'd flown on a Hippogriff. He really wanted it.
Vince, Greg, and he were allocated the Hippogriff that Potter had just flown. It was called Buckbeak and Draco found himself facing it and it was bowing to him.
He was at a loss what to do because he hadn't been listening to Hagrid. Malfoy arrogance kicked in and he bravely stepped forward and patted the beast on the beak whilst maintaining his best Malfoy disdainful sneer.
'This is very easy,' he drawled, hoping to raise scorn at Hagrid teaching them to do no more than pet a unicorn. Mind you, it would be really amazing to pet a unicorn but that was beside the point. 'I knew it must have been if Potter could do it... I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?' he said to Hippogriff whilst showing off to his fellow Slytherins who were watching him. 'Are you, you ugly great brute?'
He meant it as a term of endearment, despite the sneer but it happened in a flash of steely talons. As he was knocked to the ground, he let out a high-pitched scream he couldn't help, to hell with his dignity. He curled up to avoid rearing, beating feet as blood blossomed over his robes.
'I'm dying!' he yelled in panic, everyone else be blowed. 'I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!'
Admittedly, afterwards, he realised he had reacted a little bit overdramatically but it did hurt like nothing else he'd ever experienced and he was scared he was about to be trampled to death.
To claw back some of his dignity, he milked his injury for all it was worth. The others didn't need to know his arm wasn't actually broken. Still, he was able to pull the sympathy card about how much pain he was in and it meant Pansy was fawning all over him and telling him how brave he was. It was with her encouragement that he wrote to his father and told him what had happened.
Naturally, his father wasn't very happy about and a few weeks later Draco wished he kept his mouth shut. It was all very well trying to get the half-breed sacked but his father didn't need to escalate it all the way to the Ministry and demand that Buckbeak was put down for being a dangerous animal. As he'd learnt afterwards, when he finally opened his Monster Book of Monsters, one does not simply walk into a Hippogriff paddock and insult the nearest one, jesting or otherwise. The whole thing was his fault. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.
Harry didn't believe a single thing about of Malfoy's performance. And it upset him desperately that Hagrid had to face a tribunal. He was starting feel like the world was permanently against him enjoying any sort of normal and trouble-free year at school, especially by the time the first Hogsmeade weekend came about.
By then, he was well and truly sulking. Partly because Snape and Malfoy were constantly making his life a misery and Professor Lupin had jumped in before he faced the Boggart in their Defence class and he'd really been looking forward to trying. Fudge had only added to his woes by telling him he wasn't allowed to leave the school, he couldn't go to Hogsmeade. He felt singled out and like he was being punished just because of his name. The others didn't get it and kept pushing him to ask Minnie. He only tried once, knowing beforehand that it was a lost cause. He'd stayed behind after class and she looked at him over the top of her glasses with pursed lips, as if she knew.
'Mum,' he said. 'Please will you sign the Hogsmeade permission slip?'
'I'm afraid not, Harry. I can't. That's the rule laid down by the Ministry.'
'But...'
She looked at him with pity clear in her eyes. 'I'm sorry, Harry, but that's the final word. You'd better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson.'
That weekend he waved of Ron and Hermione and wandered slowly back to the common room.
'Harry?' a voice reached him as he meandered down a dark corridor past the DADA classroom. 'What are you doing? Where are Ron and Hermione?'
It was Professor Lupin.
Harry sighed. He tried to sound casual, 'Hogsmeade.'
'Ah,' said Professor Lupin, watching Harry for a moment. 'Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson.'
Harry was intrigued, not just about the Grindylow but Professor Lupin himself. He was, after all, one of his dad's closest friends but Harry hadn't had a chance to talk to him outside class. And he really liked Professor Lupin's classes and the way he taught. And he especially liked it that Professor Lupin had sketched Neville's Boggart and there was now a brilliant picture pinned to the wall in his office of Snape dressed as Neville's grandmother.
'It's a good likeness, sir,' grinned Harry.
'Thank you, Harry. It was rather too good a memory to waste!'
'Why didn't you let me fight the Boggart?' he asked when Lupin had questioned if something was worrying him.
Lupin raised his eyebrows. 'I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,' he said, sounding surprised.
Harry had expected Lupin to deny it and was taken aback.
'I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would take the shape of Lord Voldemort.'
Harry stared at him for a moment. Not only was this the last answer he'd expected but Lupin had said Voldemort's name.
'Clearly, I was wrong, but I didn't think it was a good idea for Voldemort to materialise. I imagined people might panic.'
'I did think of Voldemort first,' said Harry. 'But then I - I remembered those Dementors.'
Remus was surprised, 'that suggests that what you fear most of all is - fear. Very wise, Harry.'
They were interrupted by a knock upon Remus's door and the arrival of Severus with a smoking goblet filled with Remus's potion. Severus stopped short when he saw the drawing on the wall and then positively scowled when he saw Harry, his black eyes narrowing. Remus didn't fail to notice that Harry looked equally as distrustful of Severus. He would have snorted aloud. It was history repeating itself all over again. Minnie had warned him of the animosity between the two which had been brewing since Harry first came to her as a young child; how Harry had got on with everyone from the start apart from Severus.
When Minnie had told Remus about rescuing Harry from Lily's awful sister and husband; his guilt was nearly overwhelming. Then she'd implied there was an issue with neglect and abuse and his guilt had tripled. He should have been there. He should have stepped up into Sirius's place. It was, after all, accepted that he would be there anyway but he was so messed up by what happened and the responsibility of looking after a child in his condition; what if he'd changed and wasn't prepared. What if he'd killed Harry or, worse still, turned him too? He'd convinced himself it was best to stay away but now he wasn't so sure.
He took a sip of the Wolfsbane and grimaced. As much as he was grateful to Severus for brewing it for him, the stuff was fucking rank.
'Professor Snape's interested in the Dark Arts,' Harry blurted out.
Remus swallowed down his snort of derision. Nothing had changed there then. 'Really?' he said placidly as he took another sip.
'Some people reckon...' the boy hesitated before carrying on, '...he'd do anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job.'
Remus drained the goblet in an attempt to stifle the laughter at Harry's poor disguise of the suggestion that Severus was trying to poison him. James would be fucking proud of his son.
'Disgusting!' he said. 'Well, Harry, I'd better be getting on. I'll see you at the feast later.'
Lupin hummed happily to himself, feeling better than he had in years due to Severus's potion. Ironic really, he thought to himself as he made his way back from dinner. He knew what James's response would be; much the same as Harry's, that is, immediately suspicious of nefarious plots. He wandered what Sirius would think...
He was interrupted from his ponderings by the appearance of Dumbledore's Patronus urgently summoning him to the Gryffindor common room. He hurried up to the end of the lavish Gryffindor corridor only to be confronted by a large group of students huddled together, looking worried. He made his way between them until he faced the familiar portrait of the Fat Lady, only... well... she wasn't there. She had vanished from the portrait which had been slashed so viciously that strips of the canvas littered the floor from where great chunks had been ripped away.
Minnie was sent to search for her with Filch.
'You'll be lucky...' taunted the cackling voice of Peeves the Poltergeist. 'I last saw her running through a landscape up on the fourth floor, doesn't want to be seen, she's in a terrible mess. Crying something dreadful,' he said happily.
'Did she say who did it?' said Dumbledore quietly.
'Oh yes, Professorhead,' said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. 'He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see.' Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. 'Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black.'
***