☆⋆⋆⋆☆ song: put your head on my shoulder by paul anka ☆⋆⋆⋆☆
Hi!!!! Hope you enjoy!
Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.
"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy...."
"I've got something to tell you," Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.
They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione, Ginny, and Lyra about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. Three (Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione), were rather giggly, while Lyra looked as though she was forming another prank in her head.
Lyra seemed a lot better than she had the night before, which made Harry smile. Her shining hair was in a simple ponytail, her grey eyes very bright, and her tan skin glowing. Harry couldn't help but feel proud of himself that he had contributed to her current state.
"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down.
"Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.
Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig, Hermes, (Percy's screech owl), and Lyra's barn owl Ophelia perched on top of their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.
"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."
"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"
He pointed to his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.
Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.
"They're here," he said. "Harry, Lyra, come on."
Mr. Weasley marched the two of them across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.
"In you get," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.
Harry and Lyra got in the back of the car, and when the door had shut, Lyra whispered "You're going to tell them, aren't you?"
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you want me to?"
"They already know that I'm the daughter of....him. The rest of it mostly applies to you, so it isn't my choice." Lyra whispered.
"Look, if you don't want me to-"
"I said, it's your choice, not mine. I'm perfectly fine with whatever you choose. Honestly, I don't even care. Besides, I'm pretty sure the entire school knows by now. They've probably figured it out, or read the Daily Prophet-"
"You were in the Daily Prophet?" asked Harry.
Lyra grimaced. "Yeah. They were mostly raving about the fact that I'm a 'murderer' or I'm 'untrustworthy and dangerous.'"
A pang of fury erupted inside Harry's chest when Ron, Hermione, and Percy stepped into the car.
The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry noticed that they would slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.
Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station, Lyra always on the other side of him.
"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs. Molly, are you all right to go alone? Fred, go with Lyra, and keep close to her. I'll go through first with Harry."
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.
In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto the platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.
Fred and Lyra suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.
A few people gave Lyra looks of disgust or worry, and Harry wanted nothing more than to tell them off.
"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, who had arrived with George. Percy smoothed his hair and went pink again. Lyra caught Harry's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she wouldn't miss his shiny badge.
Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig, Crookshanks, and Ophelia in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Lyra kept glancing around her, and Harry understood immediately. She was looking for her godfather, who had promised to show up to see her off. Harry had never met him, as the Weasley's usually take her to their house for a few days after receiving her on the last day.
A fifth year boy sneered in Lyra's direction distastefully as he purposely bumped into her. Lyra stumbled, and Harry caught her around the waist.
"Thanks." She muttered as she regained her balance. Harry felt blood rush into his cheeks.
Harry grabbed her hand to pull her closer to him. He didn't want her in harms way, and he didn't want people doing what the fifth year had done again.
Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, Lyra, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.
"Do take care, won't you, Harry?" she said as she straightened, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches....Here you are, Ron....no, they're not corned beef....Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are, dear...."
"Harry, Lyra," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here for a moment."
He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry and Lyra followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.
"There's something I need to tell both of you before you leave-" said Mr. Weasley, in a tense voice.
"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "We already know."
"You two know? How could you know?"
"We-er-We heard you and Molly talking last night. We couldn't help hearing," Lyra added quickly. "Sorry-"
"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you two to find out," said Mr. Weasley, looking anxious.
"No-honestly, it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and we know what's going on." said Harry.
"Harry, Lyra, you must be very scared-"
"We're not." said Harry sincerely. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "We're not trying to be heroes, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be any worse than Voldemort, can he?"
Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name but overlooked it. Lyra tensed upon hearing her father's name, and Harry could feel it, as they were still holding hands.
"Harry, Lyra, I knew you both were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but-"
"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"
"They're coming, Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and Lyra and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you two to give me your word-"
"That we'll be good children and stay in the castle?" said Lyra gloomily.
"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Harry, Lyra, you need to swear to me you two won't go looking for Black."
Harry stared. "What?"
There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking the train, slamming all the doors shut.
"Promise me, Harry and Lyra," said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens-"
"Why would we go looking for someone who wants to kill us?" asked Lyra blankly.
"Swear to me that whatever you might hear-"
"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.
Steam was billowing from the train; it had started to move. Harry tugged on Lyra's hand and ran up to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let them on.
They leaned out of the window and waved back at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.
"We need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.
"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.
"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.
Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but they were full except for the one at the very end of the train.
This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.
Lyra suddenly gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth in shock.
The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.
"Who'd you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking seats farthest away from the window.
"Professor R.J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once.
"How'd you know that?"
"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R.J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
Lyra, who had not moved, was still staring at the man. Harry grew concerned and asked "Are you all right, Lyra?"
She whispered something that nobody heard.
"What?"
"He's my godfather." She whispered more loudly.
Harry looked back at the sleeping man. "Are you sure?"
Lyra rolled her eyes, looking slightly relieved. "Of course not, he's an entirely different person named R.J. Lupin. But....oh, my god, Uncle Remus...."
"What?" asked Ron.
"He told me that he'd be seeing me before I was off, but now....he's gonna be the new Defense Against the Darks Arts professor! Ah, Remmy, why didn't you tell me?" By now, Lyra was positively beaming, and Harry smiled at it.
Ron turned to Harry. "What were you going to tell us?"
Harry glanced at Lyra, who nodded. He then proceeded to explain all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth, looking from him to Lyra and vice versa.
Hermione finally lowered her hands to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you two? Oh, Harry, Lyra....you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, you two-"
"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."
"And I just follow the stupid idiot." Lyra said.
Ron laughed at Lyra's comment. Harry wasn't offended; he felt that he would never get truly angry with her. In fact, he was quite happy that she had said that, because it meant that she was a little better from last night.
"How thick would Harry and Lyra have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily.
"Thicker than you already are." Lyra muttered.
Ron and Hermione were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was.
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was top-security prisoner too."
"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too...."
"What's that noise?" said Ron suddenly.
A faint, tiny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment.
"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," said Lyra, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later she had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Lyra's hand and glowing brilliantly.
"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.
"Yeah....mind you, it's a very cheap one." Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."
"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly.
"No! Well....I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys....but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"
"Stick it back in the trunk, Lyra," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."
He nodded toward Professor Lupin.
Lyra smirked. "He can sleep through almost anything, Harry. I'm sure a Sneakocope won't wake him."
But she stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.
"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Lyra, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."
"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain-"
"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"
"What's that?" asked Hermione.
"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything....Pepper Imps- they make you smoke at the mouth- and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next-"
"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain-"
"- and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches of the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.
Hermione looked around at Harry.
"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"
"'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."
"What d'you mean?" asked Lyra.
"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."
Ron looked horrified.
"You're no allowed to come? But- no way- McGonagall or someone will give you permission-"
Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict.
"- or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle-"
"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose-"
"Neither should Lyra! She's still going!" Ron said.
All eyes turned to the dark haired girl, who seemed deep in thought. She looked up.
"No," Lyra said heavily." No, I'm not going. I did get my permission form signed, but....I think it's best if I stay with Harry. At least until Black is caught."
Harry stared at her and just then realized how terrified Lyra was of her father. Lyra had come with him to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell without any questions, and last year had demanded that she go to the Chamber of Secrets. She was selfless in those times, and she's always been selfless.
Silence eased itself into the room.
Hermione fumbled with the straps of Crookshanks's basket.
"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away.
"Get out of here!"
"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.
Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. The four watched him apprehensively, Lyra looking excited, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.
"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."
Lyra approached her godfather and patted his shoulder to try and shake him awake.
"Remus?" she said. "Uncle Remus?"
He didn't move.
"Don't worry, dear," said the witch as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."
"Aren't you going to get anything?" Harry asked the girl beside him as the compartment door slid closed.
"No," Lyra said.
"Why not?"
Lyra looked suddenly uncomfortable, and she shifted in her seat. "Er- not hungry."
Harry knew that this was a lie. She had said the exact same thing the first time they had met, back on September 1, two years ago. Lyra had found Harry and Ron chatting, and Harry had learned that Ron and Lyra were practically siblings. He had also discovered that the reason why she hadn't gotten anything was for money problems, since she had revealed that her uncle almost had no money at all. Harry had shared all of his sweets with her and Ron.
So, Harry took a Cauldron Cake, taking her hand with the other, and pressed the dessert into the palm of her hand. Lyra smiled gratefully at him.
Harry very nearly melted on the spot.
He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had their uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck, Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorrilla-ish arms.
"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.
"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Lyra stood up before Ron could, fury written all over her face, her wand touching Malfoy's throat. He barely even moved.
"Get out, Malfoy, or I'll send a nice letter to you with a curse inside the envelope."
Malfoy laughed lightly. "You humor me, Cousin."
Harry felt the tension crawl into the compartment.
'Cousin?' he thought.
Malfoy peered past Lyra.
"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.
"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Lyra back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.
Harry and Lyra sat down again, Lyra clenching her fists.
"I'm not taking any crap from Malfoy this year," she said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about the Weasleys, I'm gonna take hold of his head and-"
Lyra made a violent gesture in middair.
"Lyra," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful...."
"He's used to it," said Lyra, nodding toward Lupin. "Most of the time he lets it slide, since he says it reminds me of my mother. She had a quick mouth and a bad temper."
But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.
"Why did Malfoy call you 'Cousin?'" asked Harry.
Lyra laughed bitterly. "We're related. My father and his mother are cousins. I guess he only brought it up this year to remind me who....who my father is."
Harry tried very hard to grasp this fact. Malfoy was probably going to torment her for the rest of her life because of this, and Harry felt as though he should protect her.
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.
"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast...."
"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.
"So why're we stopping?"
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain became louder than ever against the windows.
Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Harry fell back in his seat.
Lyra, who had gotten up to look into the corridor, toppled with the sudden motion of the train, and fell into Harry's lap, and they found themselves with Lyra seated on his left thigh, her legs swung over his right.
Harry's face burned, and so did Lyra's.
"Erm....sorry...." she said embarrassedly, and she got up to sit next to him instead.
Harry tried to form words, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking about how she felt so right where she was before, about her body against his, their lips barely separated.
Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
"What's going on?" said Ron's voice.
"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"
"D'you think we've broken down?"
"Dunno...."
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.
"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard...."
The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs again.
"Sorry- d'you know what's going on?- Ouch- sorry-"
"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.
"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"
"No idea- sit down-"
There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.
"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," said Lyra's voice from beside him. Harry felt her stand up, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.
"Who's that?"
"Who are you?"
"Ginny?"
"Lyra?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was looking for Ron-"
"Come in and sit down-"
"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"
"Ouch!" said Neville.
"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.
Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry felt Lyra rush past him to embrace her godfather.
None of them spoke except Lyra.
"Is it what I think it is?" she asked.
"I fear so. Stay behind me-"
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 looked alert and wary.
Lyra stood beside him, her wand out and her hand steady.
"Stay where you are," Lupin said in the same hoarse voice, and he started to make his way with his handful of fire held out in front of him.
But the door slid open before he could reach it.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand , was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead decayed in water....
But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.
And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.
An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch inside his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart....
Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder....
And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrible, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't....a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him-
'Please don't let those screams belong to Lyra....' he thought.
"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"
Someone was slapping his face.
"W- what?"
Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking- the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Lyra were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Hermione, Neville, and Professor Lupin watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.
Ron and Lyra heaved him back in his seat.
"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.
"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "what happened? Where's that- that thing? Who screamed?"
"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.
Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him both very pale. Hermione looked to be in shock.
"But I heard screaming-"
A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.
"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. Eat it. It'll help."
Harry took the chocolate and didn't eat it.
"What was that thing?" he asked someone.
"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."
Everyone stared at him except for Lyra, who was now dabbing a wet cloth on Harry's face. Professor Lupin crumpled the wrapper and put it into his pocket.
"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me...."
He strolled past Harry but stopped in the doorway.
"And thank the heavens that Lyra has quicker instinct than me. She did save you, after all."
He disappeared into the corridor.
Harry turned to the girl next to him. "What does he mean?"
Lyra turned a deep shade of red. "I only sent the dementor away. You've saved my life countless times, and it was about time I repay you."
"Thank you," said Harry genuinely.
"No problem," was the response he received.
"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, who had come out of the state she had been in.
"I don't get it....What happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face, and Lyra immediately went back to work dabbing his forehead.
"Well- that thing- the dementor- stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face)- and you- you-"
"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching-"
"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, with Lyra following him," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lyra shouted something, and a silvery thing shot out of her wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away...."
"It was a Patronus charm. Mine's a wolf." Lyra said, taking Harry's temperature.
Hermione opened her mouth excitedly, but Neville spoke up.
"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"
"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again...."
Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.
"But didn't any of you- fall off you seats?" said Harry awkwardly.
"No," said Lyra, looking anxious. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though...."
Harry didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?
Professor Lupin came back. He paused as he entered, looking around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know...."
Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"
Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.
"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.
Lupin turned to Lyra, and smiled. "Well done, Lyra. What was your memory?"
Lyra glanced at Harry for half a second before saying "That's top secret, Uncle Remus."
They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.
"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified- looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.
"All righ', you four?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.
The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Lyra kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened she might have to take action again.
He grabbed her hand, hoping she got the message that everything was all right. She gave him a small smile.
As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they passed the gates. Lyra leaned her head on his shoulder, and he rested his head on her head.
The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriages swayed to a halt, and Hermione, Ron, and Lyra got out.
As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear.
"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
Malfoy elbowed past Lyra to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.
"Shove off, Malfoy," said Lyra, whose jaw was clenched.
"Did you faint as well, Cousin?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you, too?"
"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.
Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no- er- Professor," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.
Lyra groaned. "Malfoy's such a fu-"
At her godfather's glare, she changed her choice of words. "Sorry- such a fudging twat."
Harry chuckled.
Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of them joined the crowds swarming up the steps, through the giant oak doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.
The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"
Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.
"There's no need to look so worried- I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along, Weasley, Black."
With a raised eyebrow from Lyra, Harry and Hermione followed their Head of House to her office, where Harry was questioned on his health.
A good twenty minutes after that ordeal, McGonagall, Hermione, and Harry made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.
It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in middair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a four-legged stool out of the hall.
"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"
New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?
He and Hermione sat down across from Ron, on either side of Lyra, who had saved them seats.
"What was that all about?" Ron muttered to Harry.
Harry started to explain in a whisper to both Ron and Lyra, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.
Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that isn't why Harry respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.
"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very 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 on the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.
He paused, and Lyra straightened and tensed. Harry grabbed her hand and drew soothing invisible circles on it. She smiled at him gratefully, and although the smile was small, Harry felt like he could fly because of her.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore 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," he said.
Eyes turned to Lyra from all directions: Looks of anger, disgust, worry, fear, loathing, and from a few people Lyra had befriended over the years, disrespect. Lyra seemed to shrink away from their gaze, trying to make herself invisible on cue. Harry attempted to glare at everyone, but was cut short when he saw Percy.
He was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffing out his chest and staring around impressively. Harry nudged Lyra to look his way, and she snickered.
Dumbledore looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound after that.
"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.
"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Lyra, however, was straight up cheering and applauding so hard that the sound was enough to burst his eardrums.
"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed to them.
Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: It was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he laid eyes on Harry.
"Thank you for the very enthusiastic welcome, Miss Black," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "As for our second appointment, I am sorry to say 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 be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione stared at each other, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby- red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, a wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.
"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"
Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione were the last ones to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.
It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid's name last year.
At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.
"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table.
"All down ter you four," said Hagrid, wiping his face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it....great man, Dumbledore....came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough....Its what I always wanted...."
Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.
Harry, Ron, Lyra, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"
"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.
Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought except for Lyra.
'Is she going to be all right?' he wondered. 'Malfoy's probably going to make fun at her everywhere she goes....I'll just have to protect her then...."
Ron and Harry reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its four- poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.
A/N: Author's Note
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