Ever since Snape wrote to Dumbledore confirming Voldemort's presence in the Albanian forest, the matter was settled.
Come next term, once school began, Snape would officially assume his position as Interim Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"If you really want a dragon, it's not impossible," Arthur replied calmly. "Prepare a certain amount of dragon blood, and I'll refine it for you. Afterward, I can strengthen a dragon egg's bloodline."
"How much dragon blood?" Snape asked cautiously.
"To ascend a wyvern into a Lesser Dragon—about the fresh blood of one hundred wyverns.
For a True Dragon… you'd need at least a thousand.
If you have a full dragon corpse, the number can be cut in half."
Snape almost choked on his food.
A hundred dragons?
Even if he raided every dragon reserve in Britain, he couldn't gather that many.
"…Cough. Never mind. Let's eat."
Snape wisely dropped the topic.
After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room to chat.
"Speaking of nonsense—what's going on with Lockhart?" Snape suddenly asked.
"What nonsense?" Arthur blinked.
"Why is Lockhart replacing Lucius as a Hogwarts Board Governor?"
"Oh, that."
Arthur waved it off. "That was my idea. It was part of my deal with Lucius: he resigns from the Board, and I arrange someone to take the seat."
"Lucius agreed that easily?"
"Of course. After last year's Chamber of Secrets fiasco, when he tried to oust Dumbledore by coercing the Board to sign dismissal forms?
He was already unwelcome. Better to step down gracefully."
Snape's expression stiffened.
He didn't like it, but he didn't argue either.
Arthur understood why he looked so sour.
After last year's Dueling Club incident, Snape and Lockhart had basically become natural enemies.
Not on the level of Snape vs. James Potter—but definitely mutual irritation disguised behind polite smiles.
And now?
Snape became Interim Headmaster…
Only for Lockhart to walk into the Board of Governors.
Truly, fate enjoyed pushing them together.
Arthur decided not to intervene.
At worst, those two would duel a few times.
Neither would die.
Let them sort themselves out.
Time passed quickly, and soon it was the first day of school.
During this break, Arthur stayed home instead of wandering around—spending his days playing with Ifrit or fishing with Mr. Granger in the Zen Garden, and his nights exploring Leyndell's hidden secrets with Ranni.
After saying goodbye to the Grangers, Arthur boarded the Hogwarts Express with Ranni and Hermione.
They had barely settled when Luna and Penelope arrived.
Once again, the compartment became as lively as before the holiday.
Arthur sat with Ranni on one side, Luna leaning comfortably on the other.
Hermione and Penelope sat across from him.
Suddenly, the compartment door slid open.
A tired-looking middle-aged man with thinning hair and a battered suitcase stood frozen in the doorway.
Arthur glanced at the tag on the suitcase:
Remus J. Lupin
"Professor Lupin? Can I help you?" Arthur asked politely.
Lupin blinked back to reality.
"Ah—sorry. I was just looking for an empty compartment to rest in.
Also… how do you know my name and occupation?"
"Well, your suitcase has your name on it," Arthur replied smoothly.
"And the train staff are usually women. You're dressed formally and you're a new face.
It wasn't hard to guess you were the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
He absolutely made that up on the spot.
The moment he saw the name, he recognized Lupin immediately—James Potter's best friend and one of the Marauders.
He was only surprised Dumbledore still brought Lupin back, given the curse on the Defense position.
Lockhart technically lasted a full school year; but since Arthur requested his resignation afterward, the curse might not count as broken.
He wasn't sure.
Lupin, however, was completely stunned.
"Impressive deduction. Are you from Ravenclaw? It's a pity term hasn't begun yet—I'd have given you ten points."
"Sorry, Professor Lupin. I'm a Gryffindor," Arthur replied.
"If you need rest, the next compartment is empty."
Lupin's smile stiffened.
He glanced at the compartment—four girls and Arthur with the atmosphere of a Ravenclaw study group.
How is this boy a Gryffindor?
Has the Sorting Hat finally gotten old enough to make mistakes?
But Lupin was far too exhausted to ponder it.
He nodded gratefully and left.
Moments later, Arthur's friends arrived one by one.
Draco poked his head in, froze at the sight of the girls surrounding Arthur, politely said "Sorry for disturbing," and left immediately—choosing an empty compartment to sit with Hydrea.
His two goons were nowhere to be found; he'd forgotten them somewhere, no doubt.
Next came Harry and Ron.
They greeted Arthur, saw the compartment full, and went to sit with Lupin instead.
Unfortunately for Lupin, Ron began enthusiastically recounting his Egypt trip… loudly.
Lupin had barely closed his eyes before he was startled awake again.
He cracked an eye open.
The red hair—definitely a Weasley.
And the boy beside him…
That face.
James Potter's features wrapped around Lily's eyes.
The irritation instantly melted.
Lupin closed his eyes again silently, choosing to listen.
He wanted to know how Harry had lived all these years.
"…so about Sirius Black…" Ron whispered.
"Yes, I saw the article too," Harry replied.
He hadn't told Ron everything—not because he didn't trust him, but because Scabbers was in Ron's pocket.
Peter Pettigrew was listening.
Arthur knew Harry had stayed with Sirius in secret.
If Sirius had truly wanted to kill him, Harry would've been dead long ago.
But Harry lacked evidence.
The truth was missing one final piece—and that piece was trembling in Ron's hands.
Thankfully Lupin's eyes were closed.
If he'd seen Scabbers…
He might have acted rashly and alerted Pettigrew.
Pettigrew, recognizing Lupin's scent, trembled violently in Ron's pocket.
He stayed curled and silent, terrified of being recognized.
The train rolled into the evening.
Rain began pattering against the windows.
Dark clouds weighed heavy over the sky.
Inside Arthur's compartment, laughter continued.
Suddenly—
The train screeched to a halt.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
Arthur extended his mental power outward—and saw black, drifting forms surrounding the train like tattered plastic bags caught in a storm.
"Well… looks like unwelcome visitors."
Hermione also scanned with her spiritual sense.
She saw floating creatures, cloaked in black, skeletal hands protruding from their robes.
"Dementors! They're supposed to guard Azkaban—why are they here?!"
"Most likely searching for an escaped prisoner," Arthur said casually.
"You mean Sirius?"
"Mm."
Hermione's expression tightened.
This had Cornelius Fudge written all over it.
Aurors required overtime pay for field missions.
Fudge, that penny-pinching coward, clearly chose to use Dementors—free labor.
And since Sirius had escaped under their watch, Fudge had every excuse to unleash them.
The cold in the corridor thickened.
The lights flickered.
And the first Dementor drifted toward the carriages—
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