As the Dementors retreated, the temperature inside the train gradually returned to normal. Only a very small number of students even realized that the creatures had boarded. Most had no idea what had just happened.
The Auror squad that had brought the Dementors to search the train was equally baffled.
"Did it just look like they were running away?" one Auror muttered as he watched the swarm of black shapes vanish into the night.
The others felt the same, though none voiced it outright. Instead, they hesitated, uncertain what to do next.
No one wanted to chase after Dementors and confront them at close range. Aurors were still human. They did not enjoy the sensation of having every shred of happiness siphoned from their bodies.
The compartment door slid open.
The elderly witch who sold sweets on the train stepped inside, her tone sharp. "The Dementors are gone. What are you still doing here?"
The Aurors exchanged glances, then nodded and Disapparated from the train.
If the Dementors had fled, there was little point remaining. Better to report the situation to their superiors and let someone else deal with it.
The old witch cast a sidelong glance in the direction they had left, gave a soft snort, and flicked her wand. The train jolted forward once more.
Then she tilted her head slightly, looking toward the roof of the train, and murmured almost imperceptibly,
"A Patronus of that magnitude... what a monster."
...
Inside his compartment, Tom slowly opened his eyes.
If not for the fact that the girls around him were asleep, he would not have bothered intervening in something so trivial.
...
Elsewhere.
"What were those things? Were they trying to attack the train?"
Harry still had no clear understanding of what had just occurred. Thanks to Tom's unseen interference, he had narrowly avoided fainting in terror. Had he collapsed, Malfoy would have mocked him mercilessly for months.
"No. They were searching for something."
Lupin was equally puzzled as to why the Dementors had suddenly withdrawn, but he tucked away his wand nonetheless.
"Those were Dementors. Guards of Azkaban. I believe Sirius has told you about them."
"As for why they appeared here... most likely to search for Lestrange and Lockhart."
Ron shuddered, his voice rising an octave. "Dementors? They left Azkaban?"
Harry's feelings were complicated. Lockhart had once dragged him into photographs with dazzling smiles. Now he was not only a prisoner, but an escaped one, with a bounty surpassing that of many Death Eaters.
Lupin remained uneasy. Dementors did not abandon a search lightly. They were creatures that feasted on joy while they worked. To leave behind so many students, so much emotional sustenance, meant there had to be another reason.
But he had no explanation.
He pushed the thought aside and broke off a large slab of chocolate, handing pieces to Harry and Ron.
...
Two and a half hours later, the train finally reached Hogwarts.
Only after overhearing other students whispering did the girls in Tom's carriage learn that Dementors had appeared.
"Why has the Ministry brought those disgusting things here? I am telling Mother."
Daphne, who loathed Dementors, immediately pulled out her enchanted paper and began furiously typing a complaint on WhatsApp to Mrs. Greengrass.
Hermione, in contrast, looked faintly regretful. "I have never seen a Dementor up close."
Astoria shook her head. "Trust me, Hermione. Once is more than enough."
"Well, I would still like to see one at least once," Hermione insisted. "Otherwise I will always be curious."
Tom lightly tapped her on the head. "Fine. I will catch one for you someday so you can admire it properly."
"On second thought, perhaps not," she replied quickly, offering an awkward smile. "Dementors are Ministry employees. That might cause problems."
Chatting idly, the carriages reached the castle gates. Students leapt out, splattered in mud, ignoring the risk of Filch's reprimands as they rushed into the Entrance Hall.
Inside the Great Hall, the warmth from a thousand floating candles banished the chill of the rain soaked night. The Scottish Highlands were always cold and damp at the start of term. A dry first of September was a rare blessing.
Older students talked loudly, most of them discussing the Dementors. Only when the professors entered did the noise subside.
In the wizarding world, Dementors were spoken of with even more disgust than the Dark Lord himself. Rumors were already spreading that some might remain stationed at Hogwarts. The thought of studying alongside such creatures cast a visible shadow over many faces.
Only one person looked more displeased than the students.
Severus Snape.
Lupin sat merely two seats away from him, chatting amicably with Professor Flitwick. Snape gripped his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white. From the look in his eyes, Tom suspected he would have happily driven the utensil straight into Lupin's throat.
Dumbledore must have known full well the history between Snape and the Marauders.
Yet he had invited Lupin anyway.
So Snape's feelings did not matter at all? Placing two enemies side by side and expecting harmony. An interesting management strategy.
Sensing Tom's gaze, Dumbledore looked up and offered him a gentle smile.
Tom did not smile back.
He still remembered being undermined.
...
Moments later, Professor McGonagall led this year's trembling first years into the Hall.
The Sorting Ceremony began.
The Sorting Hat, having apparently spent an entire year composing a new song, delivered another painfully unpleasant performance. Tom tuned it out and instead expanded his magical perception to observe the nervous newcomers.
He wanted to see whether the Sorting had any correlation with magical attributes.
When he had first been Sorted, the Hat had barely brushed his hair before declaring Slytherin.
Only later had Tom understood why. After acquiring Andros' magical talent, he carried traces of ancient power, an aura that aligned perfectly with Slytherin's traditional ideals of pure blooded excellence.
For a mere hat to possess such acute perception was, in its own way, a testament to the brilliance of the founders.