Despite the fact that mastering the Patronus charm in three days was an impossible feat, young Lord Potter-Slytherin remained determined to learn it. Unfortunately, since Tom had never mastered the charm himself, the only insights Harry gleaned from his memories were the incantation and a rudimentary explanation of the spell. So, it was truly miraculous that after three days of arduous practice, he had managed to conjure even a faint cloud of barely visible silvery smoke.
Nevertheless, the green-eyed wizard considered this a step in the right direction. He clung to the hope that should he ever confront a Dementor, he could replicate his small success; after all, casting magic fueled by positive emotions in the presence of creatures that thrive on despair would undoubtedly be a challenge.
On the morning of September 1st, after ensuring his belongings were packed for the new school year, Harry reactivated the stasis ward around Salazar's cottage and apparated to a secluded corner of Platform 9¾. Though he possessed an apparition license, he was cautious about drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
Arriving early meant the platform was mostly empty, and many compartments were unoccupied. After some deliberation, he chose a compartment near the end of the train. While waiting for his friends, he picked up one of Salazar's journals and began to read.
Neville was the first to board the train.
"Hello, Harry!" the scion of the Ancient and Noble House Longbottom greeted. "I've heard from Gran that you had quite an exciting summer... And congratulations on becoming a lord." Harry merely nodded.
"Exciting isn't quite the right word," he replied. "The Minister has decided to paint me as the villain, so he tried to create some trouble for me. He didn't expect me to be prepared to defend myself, though... Thank you for the extracts, by the way; they are excellent quality." Neville blushed slightly at the praise regarding his family's greenhouses and waved his hands dismissively.
"Don't mention it, Harry. I'm happy to help." Before he could say more, Hermione burst into the compartment, slightly out of breath.
"Here you are, boys!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Neville, hello, H—" She stopped mid-sentence as she finally noticed Harry's significant growth over the summer. "Harry, what are they feeding you? You've really grown!" Indeed, Harry towered over his former self, and the signs of neglect from his relatives had all but vanished. He shrugged; it hadn't caused him any issues thus far, and with more pressing matters at hand, he wasn't inclined to dwell on it.
~/ *** \~
Aside from an unpleasant encounter with the youngest Malfoy, the train ride was going smoothly. As the skies darkened—heavy clouds unleashing cold rain—it became evident they were approaching Hogsmeade station.
Suddenly, the train began to slow, which was unusual given they were still about an hour away from their destination, as both the view outside and Harry's new pocket watch confirmed. Curiosity piqued, Neville leaned out of the compartment, only to see other students peering into the corridor, puzzled by the unexpected halt.
Moments later, the train brought to a complete stop with a slight jerk, and the sounds of luggage clattering down from the racks echoed in the compartment. The rain and wind grew louder, and bright flashes of lightning illuminated the sky.
"W-What the hell?" Harry murmured, feeling the temperature drop further as mist gathered around the train. When the lights began to flicker, the young lord realized what was happening. "They wouldn't!" he exclaimed, an unsettling chill creeping over everyone.
"They wouldn't what?" Hermione asked, still left in the dark, while Neville shivered silently beside her.
"They've sent Dementors to check the train," Harry answered grimly. No creature in the magical—or even Muggle—world could produce such an unnatural chill. Just as he uttered the words, the lights went out completely, plunging them into near darkness.
"D-Dementors?" Neville stammered, clearly startled. Like anyone growing up in the magical realm, he had heard terrifying tales about them. "Are you sure, Harry?"
"Unless you can think of another reason for this, I doubt it," Harry replied as an all-consuming sense of despair washed over him. The mere presence of the Dementors felt as though all hope had vanished.
"What's a Dementor?" Hermione asked, her wand casting a weak orb of light that flickered uncertainly. "I don't remember reading about them in our books."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Harry said. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures out there. They feed on happiness, and just being near them makes it seem like there's no good in the world. They exude bone-chilling cold, and most light sources—magical or otherwise—struggle to function around them." He paused and added, "They can even suck the soul out of you—literally."
"Don't forget, there's no known way to kill a Dementor," Neville chimed in. "You can drive them off with certain charms, but killing them is impossible." The compartment's temperature descended to near freezing levels, and a shroud of mist began creeping along the floor, sapping the warmth from the trio.
"They must be terrible creatures," Hermione murmured.
"You have no idea how true that is," Harry whispered just as Hermione's orb of light flickered out completely. "It's here."
Seconds later, the compartment door swung open, revealing a sight none of them would soon forget.
The creature before them was tall and stooped, clad in a tattered black cloak. Its hood obscured its face, but an eerie presence accompanied its slow, rattling breath, sounding as if it were consuming the very air around them. As it raised one skeletal hand, a wave of unnatural cold enveloped the trio, muffling sounds and blurring their vision.
Desperately, Harry willed himself to cast the Patronus charm, but the incantation slipped from his grasp, the cold suffocating his thoughts. Distant screams echoed in his mind, a ghostly presence clouding his senses, until everything abruptly faded into a weightless void.
When he regained focus, the Dementor had vanished from their compartment, but its presence lingered disturbingly; Hermione trembled and was pallid, while Neville looked shaken but slightly steadier due to his rudimentary Occlumency training.
"Wh-What was that?" Hermione stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"A Dementor," Harry replied, forcing himself to sound resolute despite the lingering sickness in his stomach. Accessing Voldemort's memories at that moment was a struggle, but he dug deep to recall everything Tom had shared about these creatures. "You should eat some chocolate when you can; it helps with the aftereffects," he suggested after a thoughtful silence. "I'll check on the others." Though he wasn't eager to face the darkness again—especially if the Dementor lingered nearby—his instinct to protect those in distress propelled him forward. "And I'm going to have a word with Violet about whoever thought it was a good idea to allow an unsupervised Dementor check on a train full of vulnerable children."
Opting to move toward the front of the train, Harry summoned his fading Patronus, realizing that even a weak, misty version might provide solace to others. "Expecto Patronum!" he chanted, bringing forth the happiest memory he possessed to the forefront of his mind. His first attempt failed, but on the second try, he conjured a small silvery cloud that radiated warmth and comfort.
As he made his way through the train, he encountered shaken students who were managing relatively well, though some bore the marks of the Dementor's influence more severely. He exchanged quick greetings with acquaintances in various compartments, but when he approached one filled with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, they greeted him with cheerful smiles.
"Hey, Harry!" Alicia called out. "Did you enjoy our gift? We could show you more if you want!" Flustered, he didn't know how to respond.
"You've really grown up, Harry," Katie added. "No more our little Harry, right, girls?" Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks, bewildered at how they could remain so upbeat despite the darkness that had just swept through the train.
"It's great to see you girls, but I have to go." Ignoring their pouty expressions, he left their compartment, shaking his head to dispel distracting thoughts. As he continued walking, he grew more determined to assist those still affected by the vile creature.
When he reached the fourth car from the engine, he stumbled upon three of his Slytherin friends and a visibly distressed girl who bore a striking resemblance to Daphne. Sensing she must be her sister, he approached.
"Hello, ladies," he greeted while channeling more energy into his feeble Patronus; the girl visibly brightened. "Have you offered her chocolate?" he asked. The Greengrass heiress nodded.
"We did, but it didn't help too much," she replied, glancing at her sister with concern. "I didn't realize she would be affected so severely."
"Your sister? We haven't been introduced yet," Harry said.
"Right! This is Astoria Evelyn Greengrass," Daphne introduced before turning back to her sister. "Astoria, this is Harry James Potter, our... accomplice."
"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said, giving a respectful nod. He then asked the group, "Have any of you seen the Dementor?"
None of the witches spoke up, shaking their heads affirmatively.
"No, none at all," a disgruntled voice replied from behind Harry. The seventh-year Ravenclaw Head Boy had a nearly corporeal Patronus shimmering beside him. "Is everyone all right down the train?" he inquired, receiving quick nods in response. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'll check further down regardless." After a beat, he added, "I'll speak to the deputy about arranging something for you in recognition of your service today." With that, he moved on, the Head Girl following closely in his wake.
"No one keeping tabs on the Dementor?" Harry frowned. "I'm filing a lawsuit against whoever thought this was a good idea. They should be counting their blessings that nobody got kissed."
"House Greengrass will back you," Daphne declared. "And I bet many students will join a collective suit—just give it a day, and you'll see the support."
Though eager to initiate action, Harry recognized the strength of a united front. "You're right, Daphne. I'll send the letter to my barrister on Sunday evening. In the meantime, anyone who wants to can sign our joint suit," he affirmed.
"Sounds good. We'll spread the word in the meantime," Tracey said as both Greengrasses and Draconica affirmed their agreement. "You and your friends should do the same."
By this point, the train had resumed speed, heading toward Hogsmeade station, expected to arrive in roughly forty minutes.
"It was lovely catching up, ladies, but I should return to my compartment. I still need to change into my uniform… Let's hope the rest of the evening is much more pleasant," he added before leaving, offering a slight bow. Canceling his Patronus, he realized how draining it had been, and prayed he would recover in time for curfew; otherwise, he'd have to delay his plan to retrieve the diadem Horcrux.
As he made his way back, his thoughts drifted to Draconica Malfoy. With the physical changes he was experiencing and the freedom from his relatives, he found himself recognizing her as more than just a classmate. The way she cherished his gifts—wearing the bracelets almost constantly—and her recent interactions with him suggested that perhaps she felt something for him as well.
No, he reminded himself, Draconica was bound by a marriage contract, and anything beyond friendship was unlikely. To distract himself, he focused on drafting the language for the collective suit against whoever in the Ministry had instigated this incident, telling everyone he encountered in the corridors about it; the more signatures, the stronger their cause.
The remainder of the train ride was uneventful, but once they reached Hogsmeade station, they were promptly thrust into the downpour from the now overcast skies. First-years were guided to the lake by Hagrid, while older students hurried toward the waiting stagecoaches on the muddy track nearby.
About fifteen minutes later, now warm and dry thanks to useful charms, Harry and his friends filed into the Great Hall. Spotting the woman seated at the professors' table, he felt a sense of foreboding.
Dolores Umbridge was at Hogwarts.
"Why do I feel like this year won't be easy?" Harry sighed.