Dementors, Dementors Again

There were many small heads outside the door.

The commotion just now had drawn quite a crowd, but when they saw an adult walk out of the train compartment, the young wizards all stared at each other in confusion.

"Clear off, there's nothing to see here."

Dewey shooed them away.

The young wizards immediately ducked their heads and scurried off, beginning to discuss the event excitedly.

Draco fighting Harry was hardly news.

They had been at odds for a long time, after all.

The important question now was: who was this adult?

On the train to Hogwarts, besides the train's own crew, the conductor, and the driver, were there other adults on board?

The young wizards chattered incessantly.

Malfoy returned to his compartment in a rage. Along the way, he encountered quite a few Slytherins, and they were all shocked to see Goyle in such a state.

After a while, a wizard walked in.

"Right, right, I might be a bit rusty."

This wizard was the train's "jack-of-all-trades," responsible for smoothing over any anomalies that occurred on the journey.

Clearly, this train to Hogwarts hadn't seen any trouble for many years.

With over two-thirds of the children of the British wizarding world on board, messing with this train was equivalent to turning against the entire British magical community.

Aside from a madman like Dewey, no one would think to blow up the Hogwarts Express.

There was no profit or benefit in such an act; it would only result in the entire wizarding world uniting to hunt the perpetrator down.

Even Grindelwald wouldn't be so reckless, and Voldemort wouldn't waste his time killing so many pure-blood and half-blood students for no reason.

Dewey, however, was a different story.

Just look at his mental state.

Having collected a paycheck for so many years, this jack-of-all-trades wizard had rarely seen anyone resort to fisticuffs on the Hogwarts Express. Seeing the blunt-force injuries, he kept muttering to himself, visibly nervous.

His state of mind infected the young snakes nearby.

"This is truly terrible."

He attempted to cast a spell on Goyle, his expression cautious and his eyes flickering. Goyle and Crabbe, standing by, grew increasingly anxious as a result.

Thank goodness, he was merely nervous.

His hands didn't shake, and the spell went off without a hitch.

Goyle stopped bleeding.

After the wizard left, Malfoy began to curse viciously, though for the moment, he had no way to deal with a Hogwarts professor.

Even with the Malfoy Family's formidable influence, reaching into Hogwarts was beyond their grasp.

Everyone knew that Hogwarts was Dumbledore's territory.

Dumbledore didn't care for power plays, but that didn't mean he didn't understand them, nor did it mean the Headmaster couldn't mobilize his resources.

His students, his old friends, his admirers, and his astonishing mastery of magic—any one of these things, if brought to bear, would be a formidable treasure.

"That is because you are unwilling to use those Dark Arts."

This was what Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress who had transformed into a cat, had once said to Dumbledore when Hagrid first delivered Harry to the Dursleys.

It was not empty flattery, nor was it intentional sycophancy.

It was a fact.

Everyone believed it to be so.

Dumbledore and Voldemort had both woven magic into the very depths of their souls; in every action, every movement, and every aspect of their daily lives, they integrated magic so that using it was as simple and natural as breathing.

The Board of Governors had just joined forces with the Ministry of Magic to pressure the Headmaster regarding the Dementors entering Hogwarts, forcing Dumbledore to make concessions. They certainly wouldn't provoke him again anytime soon.

On the contrary, what they wanted most now was to mend their relationship with Dumbledore. They were practically begging for him to make demands of them. No matter how much face the Malfoy Family had, no one would stand up for them in a matter like this.

Draco Malfoy understood this well—Lucius didn't just instill the ways of study in Draco; Lucius had only one son, and he spared no effort in his cultivation.

"In the future, this manor will be yours, Draco," Lucius had once said. "The future of the Malfoy Family will also be yours. So, my son, the glory of our Malfoy Family must be inherited by you; you must know everything."

Lucius believed Draco should know everything.

Draco had grasped these facts, and even though he was seething with rage, there was nothing he could do about Professor Lupin.

"He will make a mistake eventually!"

Draco said viciously.

"As long as he makes a mistake, I will find my chance..."

He was in the middle of his malicious curse when the door frame of the compartment was slid open.

Draco Malfoy stood with his back to the compartment. He didn't know who had arrived, but judging by the terrified expressions on Goyle and Crabbe's faces, he sensed that something was wrong.

"I was originally going to see how Goyle was doing."

"Professor Lupin," a voice said eerily from behind him, "but it seems I heard things at the door that I shouldn't have?"

"Are you plotting how to deal with me, Draco?"

Something hard pressed against Malfoy's waist; Malfoy felt certain it was a wand.

"I am a student at Hogwarts! You can't do this, you can't lay a hand on me!"

Malfoy felt his legs trembling.

Dewey stood behind Malfoy. He had taken a potion while pretending to head toward the locomotive to fetch someone. On his way back, he had intended to just glance at Malfoy, but the thought of facing a Dementor later that night had ignited an inexplicable fury within him.

He had carefully dissected the source of his anger along the way, only to discover that it stemmed from cowardice.

He was afraid.

Because he was afraid of his own helplessness, he wanted to use anger to mask it all.

He wanted to use anger to deceive everything, including his own heart.

You cannot deceive yourself, Dewey. Fear is fear; there is no shame in being afraid.

Having cleared this up, Dewey felt a sense of relief. He even had the time to play around with these little wizards.

Seeing Draco Malfoy, who had started to break out in a cold sweat, Dewey smiled and said, "Although your plans sound quite vicious, I think... this is meant to be a blessing for me, isn't it?"

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts professors at Hogwarts—two in a row—haven't had the best outcomes."

"I can understand your concern for me."

"So don't worry, I will certainly perform my duties well. I absolutely will not let you down."

After saying this, he tucked his wand into his sleeve and turned to leave.

He walked away with great flair. After he left, Dewey heard the sound of something heavy hitting the floor—a "thud." It must have been Malfoy collapsing.

It seemed the two little sidekicks weren't very sharp; they didn't even know to catch young Mr. Malfoy.

He did not return to his compartment. Instead, he stood by the window, looking greedily at the passing scenery, wishing he could lock the view outside into his own eyes.

Blue sky, white clouds, green hills, wilderness, mountain ranges.

Beautiful. What a beautiful sight!

Watching these scenes, Dewey felt a strange urge to cry, but he held it back. He stood there for the entire afternoon until he saw the sky darken and a drizzling rain begin to fall.

Dewey's gaze grew as gloomy as the weather outside.

It was growing cold here, but it wasn't a drop in temperature.

This feeling, this icy sensation, this feeling that made one's very soul crawl.

"Dementor."

Dewey understood.

Hogwarts was almost here.

His mood plummeted to rock bottom. Returning to the compartment, Dewey saw the young wizards snacking on treats, waiting for the feast after they arrived at school.

"Professor, you're back?"

Harry said.

"Yes, Harry."

Dewey spoke to him gently. He sat down as the bitter wind and cold rain outside intensified, the chill from deep within his bones threatening to seep out of his marrow.

"Why is it so cold?"

Ron muttered. Dewey told Harry to take out the Chocolate Frogs.

"Eat some Chocolate Frogs," he said.

No one knew what was happening, but since Dewey had spoken, they followed his instructions and ate the frogs. Suddenly, the entire Hogwarts Express began to slow down.

"Are we almost at school?"

The trio felt a bit strange. They looked toward the professor, only to find him with his head bowed.

The train came to a halt, and the air seemed even colder! More importantly, the power went out!

In an instant, the place was plunged into total darkness.

Outside, Harry felt as if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He seemed to see something drifting past.

The sudden chill and darkness made the young wizards nervous, and everyone was at a loss.

Right there in the darkness, Harry heard Professor Lupin's firm and steady voice. It contained an indescribable sense of stability, which inexplicably made the trio feel at ease.

"Use 'Lumos', Harry, Hermione, Ron. Keep an eye on the luggage here."

With the help of "Professor Lupin," the place was immediately brought into order. A moment later, the door was pushed open, and Ginny and Neville walked in.

"I don't know what's happening," Ginny said. She looked at the only adult in the room, wanting to speak, but Dewey gestured for them to come in and closed the compartment door.

"Eat some chocolate, children."

Dewey said to them, "Sit down, everyone, sit down. This should just be a routine check."

As the cold drew ever closer, Dewey said, "A group of unwelcome things is coming. Children, protect yourselves."