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Chapter 80
"What a remarkable Patronus Charm."
A hoarse voice reached Draco's ears.
He looked up to see a man standing in the middle of the aisle, his face weary yet gentle, eyes filled with unmistakable admiration.
The man wore a threadbare wizard's robe, patched in several places. His complexion was pale, his light brown hair streaked with white. Though exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, the light in his eyes was calm and resolute.
"I think we'll have time to talk later," the man said warmly. "The safety of this carriage owes a great deal to you. Even an incomplete Patronus is enough to deter Dementors. Just now, a mere silver glow sent them retreating."
Then his expression turned serious.
"But first, I need to find the driver. The rain is too heavy—we must restore the lights as soon as possible."
He glanced out the window. Bean-sized raindrops battered the glass, smearing it with gray streaks. Earlier, the train had lurched violently, plunging every carriage into darkness. For a time, only faint flashes from outside had offered any illumination. Once night fell, even that would be gone.
"I hope the rest of the journey goes smoothly."
With that, the man made his way toward the front of the train.
"Remus John Lupin," Draco murmured inwardly.
So this was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor he would meet this year.
Not long after Lupin departed, the lights along the aisle flickered back on. The carriage brightened as power was restored. Outside, the rain eased, dark clouds rolling away to reveal a sudden brilliance. Fields stretched endlessly into the distance, dotted with vibrant flowers that swayed like waves beneath the wind.
But the beauty was fleeting.
Soon, dusk deepened into night.
With a long hiss and a gentle jolt, the train came to a halt.
"We've arrived."
"Wake up, lazy pig." Draco shook Pansy Parkinson lightly.
"Hm… already?" Pansy rubbed her eyes. It felt as though she hadn't slept so soundly in years. Then she realized how she was clinging to him—and her face instantly flushed crimson.
"Tidy up. We're getting off," Draco said, gently prying her arms loose and setting her upright.
Pansy lowered her head, noticing how wrinkled her robes had become. She hurriedly tried to smooth them, only to feel a light tap on her head.
"Did you sleep yourself stupid?" Draco said dryly. "You're a witch, aren't you?"
He raised his wand and flicked it casually.
"Reparo."
Her robes instantly returned to pristine condition.
Pansy's face burned even redder. She had planned to make a dazzling entrance for the new term—yet she'd forgotten a spell simple enough for a first-year.
"I really worry about your exams," Draco sighed.
"Can you stand?" he asked after a moment. She had been curled up awkwardly for hours; numbness was inevitable.
She tried—and immediately sank back down.
Draco covered his face with one hand.
Soon, the train doors opened, icy wind rushing inside. Cold rain lashed the platform, frost coating the stone. Students slipped and stumbled, clothes splattered with mud.
Draco took Pansy's hand. "Come on."
She nodded, silently acknowledging what she already knew—no matter how she warned herself to keep her distance, his thoughtfulness was impossible to resist.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice swallowed by the crowd.
"What?" Draco asked.
"It's nothing." She shook her head.
Once off the train, a booming voice rang out.
"First-years, over here!"
Hagrid's towering figure loomed near the front, gathering new students for the traditional lake crossing.
Draco supported Pansy as they moved with the flow.
"I can walk," she said quietly, pulling her hand free. Though unsteady, she took each step herself.
Draco let her.
Beyond the path, hundreds of carriages waited—each standing before what appeared to be empty air.
No horses.
Draco knew the truth.
Only those who had witnessed death could see Thestrals.
Skeletal black horses with bat-like wings, pale pupil-less eyes, and dragon-shaped skulls—creatures bound to mortality itself.
As Draco and Pansy approached their carriage, he noticed a girl crouched nearby, staring intently ahead.
Light blonde hair, tinged with brown.
Luna Lovegood.
This must have been the first time she'd seen a Thestral. Last year, as a first-year, she'd crossed the lake by boat. Few people ever noticed these creatures—most of Britain's Thestrals were raised under Hagrid's care, a single stallion and five mares forming a small herd.
Even Dumbledore relied on them for long journeys.
Draco was about to board when Luna suddenly stiffened, sensing his gaze. She stood and walked straight toward him.
"Thank you," she said softly, her silvery eyes unfocused yet sincere. She bowed slightly.
Draco blinked. "For… what?"
She didn't explain.
Perhaps she sensed the faint hostility behind him.
Turning away, Luna climbed into the nearest carriage, though her gaze lingered on the unseen creature before her.
Why couldn't others see it?
She would have to check The Quibbler archives later.
Draco sat inside his carriage, still puzzled.
"Did I help her?" he asked quietly.
"Of course," Pansy replied, understanding immediately. "You just didn't realize it."
She explained.
When Luna had once spoken to Draco during Lockhart's speech, the students who bullied her panicked and returned everything they'd stolen. She never even had to post her missing-items notice.
Her reputation only worsened afterward.
Yet Luna bore him no resentment—only gratitude.
To her, sincerity mattered more than rumors.
She lived freely, untouched by mockery.
Draco watched the carriage move.
Was such intuition a blessing—or a curse?