After boarding the Hogwarts Express, the group waved goodbye to the Weasleys.
Percy headed straight for the Head Boy's private compartment. Ginny ran off excitedly to find her friends, while Fred and George loudly discussed "scouting the market" for potential "new product" test subjects.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione dragged their trunks along the corridor, habitually looking for an empty compartment.
But in the end, they couldn't find a single one.
"Hey, over here!" Ron said, his sharp eyes spotting an open door as he pushed it aside. "There's only one person in here."
Sure enough, a shabbily dressed middle-aged wizard was leaning against the window seat. He looked utterly exhausted, his head tilted to one side, apparently asleep.
His hair was streaked with grey, his complexion an unhealthy waxy yellow, and even in sleep his brow was tightly furrowed, as though he were enduring great pain.
"He looks worn out," Hermione whispered with a trace of sympathy. "Let's be quiet."
The three of them tiptoed inside and sat down on the bench opposite.
Noctis glided down gracefully, landing on the empty seat beside Harry. It quietly preened its dark feathers, its obsidian-like eyes sweeping over the compartment before finally settling on the sleeping man.
With a long whistle, the train slowly pulled out of the station, leaving the noise and bustle of London behind.
Outside the window, the scenery gradually shifted into wide fields and rolling hills.
Inside the compartment, only the rhythmic clatter of the train and the man's steady, slightly labored breathing could be heard.
"Is he… still alive?"
Ron lowered his voice, staring at the man's pale lips and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Ron, be polite," Hermione immediately whispered in reprimand.
"Who is he?" Harry asked quietly as well.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered with certainty.
"How do you know everything?" Ron's eyes widened, his face full of disbelief.
"Because it's written on his suitcase," Hermione said, lifting her chin.
Ron fell silent at once, looking deflated.
"I don't remember Hogwarts ever having a professor like him," Harry said, puzzled.
"Of course not," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Is there anything you don't know?" Ron muttered.
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione said calmly. "Professor Lockhart was hospitalized during the first half of last year, and Professor Lumina was hospitalized in the second term, so the position obviously needed to be filled."
"It's really a shame," Harry said, cutting in. "Professor Lumina, even if she did seem… well, a bit unreliable, we actually learned a lot in her class."
"I just hope this Professor R. J. Lupin lasts a little longer."
A moment later, the compartment door was pulled open from the corridor.
It was Draco Malfoy.
He paused in the doorway, momentarily startled by the sleeping raven and the unfamiliar adult inside, but quickly regained his usual cold composure.
"Potter," he said from the threshold, looking down at Harry. "Let's have another duel once term starts."
The three inside the compartment looked up at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
"No problem," Harry thought for a moment before replying calmly. "If you insist."
"Don't talk like you've already won, Potter," Malfoy said lazily, leaning against the doorframe. "I wasn't idle this summer."
"Oh, really?" Ron couldn't help chiming in. "You didn't spend the whole holiday thinking about Harry, did you? Is he your only goal in life now?"
Malfoy's gaze flicked to Ron, a trace of irritation flashing in his eyes.
"I'd love to challenge you, Weasley," he sneered, "but unfortunately, your duelling points aren't even high enough for you to be ranked ahead of me."
Ron's face flushed bright red, and he had no reply.
Malfoy turned and walked away. Ron stared after him, indignant. "What's there to be so smug about?"
"If you don't want him looking down on you like that again, you'd better practise your spells properly this term," Hermione said as she stroked the large ginger cat, Crookshanks, in her arms. She added by way of reminder, "With what Professor Greengrass is teaching us, it won't be hard to surpass him."
At that moment, the light outside the train window suddenly dimmed, as though heavy storm clouds had rolled overhead.
A bone-deep chill seeped through the compartment walls without resistance, sweeping through the space in an instant.
It wasn't an ordinary cold, but a profound, clammy chill that seemed to drain away all warmth, joy, and hope.
The lights in the compartment began to flicker, emitting a faint buzzing sound, before going out completely.
"What's happening?" Ron shuddered, his voice shaking.
Before he could finish speaking, the compartment door was wrenched open by an unseen force.
A tall figure cloaked in tattered robes floated in the doorway.
Its face was entirely hidden within the shadow of its hood; nothing could be seen clearly, only a sense of emptiness that swallowed the light.
A skeletal hand, the bones dark and decayed, extended from beneath the cloak and rested on the doorframe.
With its arrival, the soul-sapping, despair-laden cold intensified tenfold.
Hermione was instantly overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of despair and instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
Harry's reaction was the most severe.
The instant the cold descended, it felt as though an icy hand had clamped around his heart.
A piercing scream rang in his ears—not an external sound, but one that stabbed straight into his mind.
Pain, fear, despair—they crashed over him like a tidal wave.
His vision blurred, the world spun, and all the strength drained from his body in an instant. He felt himself sinking into a freezing, hopeless abyss…
"Harry!" Hermione cried in horror as she saw his eyes go unfocused and his body slump in the seat, his breathing coming in harsh, ragged gasps.
Ron was equally terrified. He tried to stand, but his legs felt as heavy as lead, the numbing cold pinning him in place.
The Dementor's hollow "gaze" swept across the compartment, as though searching for something. At last, its hungry attention locked firmly onto Harry Potter, who was writhing in agony.
Noctis's feathers suddenly flared, and it let out a sharp, piercing shriek.
Its small body positioned itself in front of Harry, dark feathers seeming to gleam faintly in the dimness.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A steady, powerful voice rang out in the compartment.
In the next instant, a brilliant white light—like the rising sun—burst forth from Lupin's hand.
He had risen at some point, a wand held steady in his hand.
The light rapidly condensed, forming a barrier between the Dementor and Harry.
"Sirius Black is not here," he said, standing firmly in front of the students, his wand unwaveringly trained on the Dementor. His voice was calm and resolute. "Leave this place."
The Dementor seemed to recoil in alarm. Its tattered cloak billowed as it jerked back, then it vanished instantly into the darkness of the corridor.
The lights in the compartment flickered a few times before coming back on, and the suffocating cold retreated like a receding tide.
Harry sucked in air as though he'd just been pulled from deep water, his body soaked in cold sweat.
Professor Lupin quickly drew a large bar of chocolate from his pocket, snapped off a generous piece, and placed it into Harry's trembling hand.
"Here, my boy," he said gently, his voice hoarse with evident exhaustion. "Eat it. It will help."
He then broke off two more pieces and handed them to Hermione and Ron, whose faces were just as pale.
Harry did as he was told, biting into the sweet chocolate. Warmth spread through him along with the sugar, his racing heart gradually settling as the cold stiffness in his limbs eased.
"I… I'm much better. Thank you, Professor…" he said weakly, relief at having escaped the danger and gratitude toward the man before him filling his chest.
Hermione and Ron let out breaths of relief as well, their eyes filled with genuine admiration as they looked at Lupin.
"What was that thing just now?" the three of them asked, still shaken.
"A Dementor," Professor Lupin replied gently. "I imagine they're here searching for a fugitive."
His gaze then shifted to Harry's forehead, before finally settling on Noctis.
The raven had withdrawn its hostility after the Dementor's departure, yet it remained alert, its dark, glossy eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lupin. Its gaze was nothing like that of an ordinary bird—far too human.
"A… raven?" Lupin raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "How unusual. It seemed to be protecting you just now."
He looked at Harry.
"Its name is Noctis, Professor," Harry explained, reaching out to gently smooth the raven's feathers. "It's… Professor Greengrass's messenger."
"Greengrass?" Lupin paused visibly at the name.
A sharp glint flashed through his weary eyes, as though the name itself had struck something deep within him.
He studied Noctis again, as if trying to discern something from the raven.
"Sagres Greengrass?" he asked, as though seeking confirmation.
"Yes, Professor!" Hermione spoke up at once, her voice full of respect. "Professor Greengrass is our professor for Advanced Spell Theory and Practice, and he also teaches duelling! He's very… uh…"
"Knowledgeable. And very powerful," Ron took over, recalling the few shocking moments when the man had acted. His voice dropped unconsciously as he added with emphasis, "Really… very powerful."
"And not just that," Harry said, having recovered some of his composure. "Minister Fudge speaks very carefully in front of him."
Harry recalled Fudge's almost fawning attitude toward Sagres at the Leaky Cauldron.
Lupin listened quietly to their descriptions, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rough wooden handle of his wand.
His expression remained calm, but deep within his eyes, complex emotions stirred.
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