The Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station much later than usual. When it finally hissed to a stop, steam billowing from its engine, night had already fallen and a light rain was falling again.
Wind lanterns on the platform swayed in the misty dusk. Hagrid's massive silhouette loomed like a moving hill in the distance, waving his trademark pink umbrella.
Unlike previous years, Professor McGonagall stood right beside him, her lips pressed into a thin, stern line. Her sharp eyes scanned every carriage as if counting heads.
Even Filch—the perpetually scowling caretaker—had climbed aboard the train, his glowing lantern sweeping every corner while Mrs. Norris hissed uneasily at his feet.
Hermione stuck her head out the window, her bushy hair still messy from the Dementor attack. "Looks like the school already got the news. Professor McGonagall came to the station herself."
Professor Lupin stepped off first. He had changed into a slightly cleaner set of robes, but the exhaustion still clung to him.
He walked quickly over to McGonagall and spoke in a low voice. "Professor McGonagall, it was Dementors. The Ministry authorized them to search the train… but they lost control."
"Dumbledore already knows. He's furious and is dealing with the Ministry right now. But…" McGonagall's voice was equally quiet. "Thank Merlin you were on board, Lupin."
"Julien." Harry finally emerged from the compartment, still pale but with some color back in his cheeks. Lupin's chocolate—or maybe just the simple feeling of being looked after—had helped.
"I heard you were the one who led the students against the Dementors. They told me your name."
"It was mostly Professor Lupin and the older students," Julien said modestly. "I just helped a bit."
"At least you weren't scared like me," Harry muttered, still clearly embarrassed about passing out.
"Don't beat yourself up, Harry. Dementors are literally designed to suck all the happiness out of you. Who wouldn't be afraid? Plus, they look scarier than any ghost." Julien smiled and patted Harry's shoulder.
"But other people didn't react as badly as I did."
"That's because you've faced more fear in your life than most people ever will."
"Can you teach me that spell? The one that drives them away?"
"No problem. But I think Professor Lupin would be a much better teacher than me."
---
That night, the Great Hall of Hogwarts felt heavier than usual. Even the floating candles overhead seemed dimmer, as if something had stolen part of their light.
Julien sat at the Ravenclaw table and looked around. The atmosphere this year was completely different.
Instead of the usual excited chatter and shouting across tables, students huddled in small groups, whispering nervously. Their eyes kept darting toward the entrance, as if they expected a tattered black cloak to drift in at any second.
"Did you see it?" Edgar Finch pushed up his glasses, voice barely above a whisper. "On the train, I mean…"
"Of course. I was terrified," Casen Moretti said, shoving a piece of roast beef into his mouth. Even his chewing seemed more subdued than usual. "I can't even imagine what it must be like at Azkaban."
"Shh," Padma Patil leaned over from the next seat, her brown eyes worried. "Don't talk about it. Just thinking about it makes me cold again."
Julien stayed quiet. His gaze drifted across the long tables to the empty seat at the staff table—the one that had belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart last year. Back then, the fraud had sat there in his aquamarine robes, fussing with his golden hair in a mirror. Now the chair waited silently for its new occupant.
"Students!" Dumbledore's voice rang out like a warm spring breeze cutting through the chill in the hall.
The old Headmaster rose, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. His white hair and robes glowed softly in the candlelight.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," he said with a smile. "Before we begin the feast, allow me to introduce a new professor—someone some of you may have already met on the train. He is—"
He paused and gestured toward the end of the staff table.
"Professor Remus Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"
The applause that erupted was loud and genuine—very different from the polite, slightly mocking clapping Lockhart had received. Especially from the students who had been on the train: Harry, Ron, and Hermione clapped hard; Neville dropped his fork in excitement; Terry Boot whistled from the Ravenclaw table; even some Slytherins muttered words of approval.
Lupin walked slowly to the empty seat. His gray-brown hair was slightly messy, and his tired but kind smile looked completely sincere—no Lockhart-style theatrical flourishes.
"I saw what Professor Lupin can do on the train," Penelope Clearwater said warmly to the student beside her. "It was… impressive. I'm actually looking forward to his classes."
Julien nodded in silent agreement. He remembered the warmth of Lupin's hand when he handed over the chocolate. This was a wizard who had walked through real darkness and still chose to protect others.
But then Julien noticed Snape at the far end of the staff table. The Potions Master was staring coldly at Lupin. While everyone else clapped, Snape's fingers drummed impatiently on his silver goblet with a soft ting-ting-ting.
His black eyes were narrowed—not the look of a colleague meeting a new teacher, but the wary gaze of someone sizing up a threat.
"Professor Snape doesn't look very happy," Daphne said quietly from the Slytherin table, exchanging a glance with Elizabeth.
"Maybe because he lost the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again," Elizabeth shrugged, not wanting to say too much about her Head of House.
Dumbledore waited for the noise to settle, then gave a small cough.
"Now, I must announce an important security measure," he said, his voice growing heavier. "As you all know by now, Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."
A wave of sharp, nervous gasps swept through the hall.
"The Ministry believes Black may try to enter Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, his eyes moving across every frightened face. "As a precaution, Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the school grounds."
Dead silence.
Even the teachers—including Snape—frowned deeply.
Julien felt Lisa Turpin trembling beside him. Across the room at the Gryffindor table, Harry's face had gone deathly white.
Dementors—the same soul-sucking horrors in ragged cloaks that had just terrorized them on the train—were now going to guard the school.
"I must warn you all," Dumbledore said gravely, "Dementors are among the foulest creatures on Earth. They have no mercy, no pity. Do not give them any reason to harm you."
"But," he raised his voice, blue eyes flashing with firm reassurance, "rest assured. The Dementors will not be allowed inside the castle itself. They will only patrol the grounds and stand guard at the outer boundaries. You are safe here."
"Safe?" Draco Malfoy drawled from the Slytherin table, his voice dripping with forced arrogance, though Julien noticed his fingers were shaking slightly. "What if those things drift into the castle the same way they got onto the train?"
"They cannot, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said sharply, looking directly at the Slytherin table. "As long as you remain inside the castle and do not break curfew, you will not encounter them."
"Remember," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall with ancient strength, "fear is our greatest enemy, and happiness is our best weapon. As long as we hold on to hope and stand together, no darkness can truly harm us."
"Well then," Dumbledore clapped his hands, the familiar warm smile returning to his face, "let us not allow this to spoil our appetites. Let the feast begin!"
Outside the windows, the night wind howled across the Scottish Highlands. Countless Dementors drifted silently around the castle grounds, waiting for any foolish student brave—or stupid—enough to step beyond the walls.