Harry Potter: New World

Chapter 72 - 72

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On September 1, as a decent young man should, I loaded my frail body into the Hogwarts Express carriage at the appointed time. I said goodbye to Walburga and Kricher, and I didn't forget about the Knights - how could I! I had done my homework, studied the subjects for six months ahead of time, and everything was ready.

With those thoughts in mind, I went into the first compartment I saw. On the seat, leaning against the window and covered with his own coat, a man was sleeping. His face was covered by a hat pulled forward, and on a large trunk next to him was a small sign that said "Professor R.J. Lupin." No, I'm not sitting here.

Closing the door, I went on my way. There was quite a bit of time before departure, and the wizards hadn't yet piled onto the nine-and-three-quarter platform. I checked the empty compartment and made sure it was empty, so I settled in, looking at the wizards scurrying in and out.

At one point, a familiar curly head flashed through the crowd. The girl, dressed as usual in her school uniform and carrying a bag similar to mine instead of a trunk, was busily examining the wizards, standing a little away from the carriage. I opened the window and waved my hand, attracting her attention. Hermione immediately smiled and waved back, quickly heading into the carriage, and within seconds she was in the compartment.

"Max!" she rushed happily into a hug, staying true to her habit. Well, as always, she got a symmetrical response in the form of no less bone-crushing hug.

"Hi, Fluffy."

I got a fist to the liver area as soon as I said it. Hermione pulled away with a slight smile and pointed a finger defiantly at her hair.

"Look, I have straight hair!"

Her hair was indeed well groomed, not unlike her first year.

"Fluffy once, fluffy forever. At least a couple times a year."

"Now, what happened? Everything was good last year." the girl, though we could start calling her 'lady,' sat down across from me with a smile, letting me sit too. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything."

"Um... two times two is four..."

"Max, you're such a baby, honestly!" Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "How was your summer?"

"Studying Egypt, the pyramids, magic, books, homework, physical training."

"Very...short. Better let me tell you. Like you said in that letter, I was in France with my parents, in Paris..."

My assumption about Hermione's trip was fully confirmed, except for the fact that she visited more places than I would have thought possible. Almost every institution in Paris that had any cultural, intellectual, or magical value had been, if not explored, at least visited. With the pounding of wheels and occasional brief visits from students familiar from Hogwarts, the conversation turned to homework: notes and essays were read, checked, and some of them even supplemented. Before we knew it, the weather began to deteriorate noticeably. Now it was already pouring outside the window in heavy rain and dusk. I began to prepare myself morally, just in case.

It was a nontrivial task to drive away the high-class undead, both material and immaterial creatures, whose magic works directly with the soul and mind. In general, these creatures are quite unique and extremely rare in nature. If you believe the literature, it turns out that there are places of their accumulation only in England and distant South America. Here it is, Azkaban, the creation of a dark hermit wizard. In South America, it is an ancient pyramid, guarded and deeply buried in the jungle. But if in America it's a shelter for ten Dementors, a sort of magic sanctuary, where the number of these creatures is regulated for some unknown purpose, in England - it's a prison. But that's all lyricism-the train was beginning to stop. It was still forty minutes before Hogsmeade.

It was getting colder on the train, and the windows were starting to get a thin crust of ice. Steam was coming out of my mouth as if it were winter. It became uncomfortable, and some incomprehensible and ungrounded lump of fear floated up from the depths of my consciousness. It was a shapeless lump with nothing concrete in it - just animal fear.

"Strange..." Hermione whispered, rubbing her hands together. Realizing the futility of such a thing, she took out her wand and began casting warming spells. It was no use. The light went out.

Now I took my wand out of its holster and pointed it at the door, mentally arranging the seal's geometric structure on the tip of my wand. I can't create a Patronus, but there's a less effective spell in the grimoire. If the Dementors aren't really aggressive, they'll leave - no one likes discomfort. Fiendfyre and other magic of the "total destruction" type would take them, too. But, again, that's not for me.

The silence in the wagon began to change to ear-piercing shrieks, a kind of panic that passed in an instant. There were quiet and pitiful sounds of crying.

"Give Lumos," I turned to the girl, and she immediately complied with the request. The light was faint and wavered a little, like the flame of a candle in the wind.

The compartment's door opened, and immediately a desiccated black and gray hand rested on top of it. A moment and a fuzzy silhouette in a fluttering black hood could be seen floating down the corridor as if it were under water. Beneath the silhouette's hood, the darkness was pitch black. Dementor looked into the compartment. Its hood moved as if it were looking around, but not finding its target, the creature moved away and, absurdly, closed the door behind it.

Pale Hermione stared at the closed door, her jaw almost clenched shut, and her wand hand trembled faintly.

A couple more shrieks nearby and a sharp bluish flash of viscous flare swept through the carriage. A few hurt and angry noises were now added to the cacophony of silent sounds, but it made me feel better.

"What was that?" a trembling Hermione asked quietly, and I, throwing off the incomprehensible stupor of formless fear, reached into my bag.

"Here," I handed the girl a chocolate bar. "Eat it. It'll make you feel better. It's Dementors."

"Dementors?" Hermione quickly got over her shivering, but she was still as pale and depressed as ever. The occlumency was clearly helping, but... What is it like for people in Azkaban?

"Yes, guards of Azkaban. Eat a candy bar - it really helps."

"Where did the chocolate bar come from?" Hermione quickly began crunching on the hard bar, simply ripping the packaging. I took one for myself.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. I had some suspicions that our valiant ministry would send the Dementors to Hogwarts."

"What nonsense..."

"Reality."

The recent incident had taken its toll. The lights are still out, Hermione's Lumos is stable but not bright - so it's doesn't blind my eyes. So I myself did not notice how I sent two Stupefy into the sharply opened compartment door. Silently! And Hermione instantly let go of the chocolate bar, running her fingers over the wand and creating a Protego. Now the Lumos burned on her free hand, a quality film of the shield in front of us and the entrance, and a male face with a pair of thin scars was looking at us from the aisle.

"A commendable reaction, gentlemen," he said with a smile and concern, glancing quickly around the compartment. It was obvious that the man had dodged one Stupefy by deflecting slightly and had taken another right on the wand. "Eat some chocolate. That'll help. I won't bother you again."

The compartment door closed.

"Who's that?"

"R. J. Lupin. Professor," I replied. "Probably in DADA. Did you see the defense?"

"Yeah."

We put our wands away, and the wagon finally got its lights back on. Hermione was hypnotizing a chocolate bar lying on the floor with an unspeakable expression on her face. I broke off a piece of mine and shared.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I hope Professor Lupin turns out to be a worthy teacher."

"Probably."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Dumbledore should appoint someone adequate for once. Just for a diversity."

"Well, only if for a diversity."

The train started, and forty minutes later, we were on the platform. The guys around us were still in a state of shock, pale and frightened, looking around every now and then. It had stopped raining pretty hard on the way to Hogsmeade, but there was no less mud and puddles.

Carriages and Festrels again, but now there was a novelty - a thorough inspection by the professors and someone from the Ministry. They conjured up things and people and let them through to the gates in front of the castle one by one.

Somehow we ended up joining Gryffindors' general flow, greeting everyone and discussing the absurdity of Black's attempts to get into Hogwarts. I answered some of them, agreed with some of them, denied some of them, and my head was spinning and crumbling with plans and theories as to how I could catch this dog and shake him down to find out where he'd put the ring.