Fir trees stood in dark ranks along both banks of the frozen river.
The white frost hanging from the branches was blown down by the north wind, neatly covering the tracks the animals had left moments before.
This was wilderness, the frozen snowfields of the northern lands. Only unyielding life could survive here.
A pack of wolves was racing across the snow. The moment their breath left their mouths, it turned into snow grains that clung to their coarse fur. They huddled together for warmth, strange expressions on their wolfish faces—they were smiling. A pack of wolves was actually smiling.
She could not help shuddering and woke from her dream. She was in a train compartment, bright sunlight outside the window, while Severus sat reading yesterday's Daily Prophet.
The front page facing her reported that a Muggle apartment building in Kensington had been set on fire. The culprit might have been a Werewolf. Besides the striking headline, there were several photographs. The people in them wore prisoners' clothes, and at a glance, she had thought they were photos from the mass breakout at Azkaban over a decade ago.
"Where are we?"
Severus folded down the newspaper, revealing his excessively pale face.
"You should change. We're almost there."
Pomona suddenly had a strange feeling.
"What is it?"
"The Hogwarts Express." She smiled. "We should change into our school robes, Snape."
"Are you still half-asleep?"
"Have a sense of humor, Severus." She stretched, then slumped forward in her seat as though all strength had left her. "When we were in school, you never reminded me to change into my school robes."
"I thought you were a ghost." He stared at her. "I never saw you board the train."
"You looked for me?"
"Yes." He looked into her eyes. "We all did."
She