Hollywood: Actor with equipment
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Sean was the first one on the train. Professor McGonagall's eyes stayed glued to the carriage windows until his silhouette flashed past and disappeared inside. Only then did she turn and vanish from the platform with her usual calm grace.
Right where she'd been standing—beside the third pillar—Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry into one more extra-tight hug. Harry turned a little pink, but he was secretly thrilled.
"You take care of yourself, you hear me, Harry?" she said, straightening up. Her eyes had an odd shine to them.
She opened her enormous handbag. "I packed sandwiches for everyone. Make sure you give this one to young Sean…"
She paused, looking puzzled. "It's so strange how he's always with Professor McGonagall… Anyway, here you go, Harry—and you too, Ron… no, not the corned beef… Fred? Where's Fred gone? Here, sweetheart…"
"Harry," Mr. Weasley said quietly, stepping closer. "Come over here a second."
He tilted his head toward a pillar. Harry followed him behind it while the others headed after Sean onto the train.
Inside the Hogwarts Express, Sean walked down the corridor. They weren't late, but most compartments were already full—except the ones near the rear.
"Sean—slow down a bit, would you?" Justin called, catching up first. Hermione walked beside him, carrying Crookshanks's wicker basket.
Sean paused, and the three of them slipped into the nearest empty compartment.
There was only one other person inside: a man asleep by the window.
Justin and Hermione hovered in the doorway for a second, taking him in.
The Hogwarts Express was usually students-only. Aside from the witch pushing the snack trolley, they'd never seen another adult on board.
This stranger wore a neat but heavily patched wizard's robe. He looked worn out, like he didn't have an ounce of strength left. Though he still seemed fairly young, his light brown hair was already streaked with gray.
"Um… who is he?" Hermione whispered as they slid the door shut and chose seats farthest from the window.
"Our bookstore manager," Justin said happily.
"What manager?" Hermione looked blank.
Before Justin could answer, Harry, Ron, and Neville burst in.
"Everyone's here!" Ron announced cheerfully.
The compartment was wide enough for six students to squeeze in for a little while, especially once Ron stowed his luggage next door.
"Your sandwiches," Harry said, remembering Mrs. Weasley's instructions.
"Steak sandwich—thanks, Harry!" Justin grinned, taking his.
"Blueberry…" Hermione peeked inside hers, delighted.
All eyes turned to Sean. No surprise—his sandwich had basically been turned into a full-on pumpkin pie.
Sean tucked it away carefully, like it was something precious.
"Who's that guy?" Ron finally noticed the sleeping wizard.
"Professor R.J. Lupin," Justin whispered at once.
"How do you know that?" Ron asked, curious.
Hermione looked just as confused—she'd definitely heard something about a "store manager." She knew Justin and Sean owned a bookstore, and the old manager didn't show up often, but when he did he usually wore a hooded cloak and spent all day organizing shelves. Lately he'd been interviewing replacements like crazy. She'd also heard his standards were ridiculously high…
"He's from Green Book House—" Hermione started automatically.
"His trunk says so," Justin cut in, pointing at the luggage rack above the man's head.
A shabby little suitcase was tied up with ropes, the knots neat and tight. In one corner, the name R.J. Lupin was printed in slightly peeling letters.
The case looked like it might fall apart at any second, but it was wrapped in living vines that tightened every time the train jostled it, holding everything together like magic.
No one knew who had cast the charm.
Well… almost no one.
"Wow, Sean—look at that transfiguration work," Justin whispered, half impressed, half pretending to be annoyed. "I know that's yours. Totally unfair, by the way."
"You don't have a broken trunk," Sean replied simply.
"I could," Justin said, eyes lighting up.
"Oh, come on—" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I wonder what he teaches?" Ron asked, staring at the lifeless-looking professor with interest.
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione said quietly. "There's only one position open—Defense Against the Dark Arts."
The students had already been through two DADA teachers, both gone after a single year. Rumor had it (courtesy of Hagrid) that the job was jinxed.
"Well, I hope he's up for it," Ron said doubtfully. "I mean, look at him—one strong witch could probably knock him out cold…"
Even Hermione frowned at that.
They'd worked so hard to get rid of that fraud Lockhart. Now their new Defense professor was… a bookstore manager? It didn't exactly inspire confidence.
"Sean…" When in doubt, Hermione turned to him.
"Mr. Lupin is more than capable," Sean said simply.
"Oh?" Hermione perked up, ready to ask more, but Ron cut in.
"Sean, are you allowed in Hogsmeade now?" he asked eagerly. "If we're all together, Black wouldn't dare—"
"Ron, don't be an idiot," Hermione snapped, still annoyed. "Black murdered a whole street full of people in broad daylight. You really think he'd care if we were standing right there?"
She fiddled with the straps on Crookshanks's basket as she spoke.
"Stop! Stop! You're going to let him out—don't release that thing!" Ron yelped.
Too late.
Crookshanks sprang out, stretched luxuriously, yawned, and leaped straight onto Ron's lap.
The lump in Ron's pocket started trembling. Ron shoved the cat off in a huff.
"Get off!"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Professor Lupin stirred. They all froze, watching anxiously. He just turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and kept sleeping.
The Hogwarts Express rumbled northward. Outside the windows, the countryside grew wilder and emptier.
Thick clouds rolled in overhead, and the sky slowly darkened.