The sun generously bathed the earth in warm light as the new school year arrived. Augustus, with his house-elf having already prepared his luggage, bid farewell to his parents and took a carriage alone to London Station.
Upon entering Platform 9¾, he found the scarlet train quietly stationed, steam curling from its chimney. Augustus casually boarded the train, weaving through the bustling crowd to search for an empty compartment.
"Mr. Augustus, there's a seat here." Just as he passed one carriage, Hermione's distinctive voice called out. Turning, he saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking at him from a nearby compartment.
With a faint smile, Augustus opened the door, placed his luggage on the rack, and took a seat by the window. Hermione, her face lit with a smile, sat to his left.
"Mr. Augustus, how was your holiday? I just returned from a trip to France. The scenery there is truly captivating, and the French people are exceptionally hospitable. Their culture and environment are both remarkable," Hermione said enthusiastically, her wavy hair styled with evident care.
"I spent most of my holiday at home. From your description, France does sound intriguing. If I get the chance, I might visit. By the way, Harry, I heard you... inflated your aunt?" Augustus asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Uh, to be fair, I wouldn't have done it if she hadn't insulted my parents so viciously," Harry said awkwardly, pushing up his glasses. "She went too far, so I gave her a little... lesson. Luckily, the Ministry of Magic was lenient and didn't impose any severe punishment."
"By the way, who's that?" Ron suddenly asked, pointing toward a figure slumped in the corner of the compartment.
Augustus followed his gaze and noticed, for the first time, a man fast asleep in the corner. Had Ron not mentioned it, he might not have realized someone else was there.
"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione whispered immediately.
"How do you know?" Ron asked skeptically.
"It's written on his suitcase," Hermione replied, pointing at the luggage rack above the sleeping figure. A battered suitcase, tied with several ropes, bore the name Professor R.J. Lupin in peeling letters.
"What subject do you think he'll teach?" Ron asked, frowning at Lupin's frail, lifeless posture.
"It's obvious. The only vacancy at Hogwarts is for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Augustus said calmly, glancing briefly at the sleeping professor.
"Well, I hope he's competent," Ron muttered. "He looks like he might keel over at any moment. Doesn't he?"
"They say the position is cursed. No one can hold it for long. Haven't you noticed the professor for this subject changes every year?" Hermione added with a hint of mystery.
"Just a rumor," Augustus replied, studying Lupin's frail appearance with an unreadable expression. "Perhaps this professor will be the one to break the curse."
"By the way, do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"The only all-wizarding village in Britain? If all goes as planned, we should be able to visit this year," Augustus replied with a faint smile.
"Exactly," Ron said, nodding. "But that's not why I'm excited. I just want to go to Honeydukes!"
"Honeydukes? A candy shop?" Augustus asked, puzzled.
"It is," Ron replied, his face lighting up. "They have everything—Pepper Imps that make you breathe smoke, chocolate balls filled with strawberry mousse, and even sugar quills you can nibble on in class. Looks like you're writing something important!"
"Sounds interesting," Augustus said with a nod.
"But Hogsmeade is fascinating in its own right, isn't it?" Hermione chimed in. "According to Historic Wizarding Sites, The Three Broomsticks Inn served as headquarters during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612. And the Shrieking Shack is supposedly the most haunted house in Britain!"
Ron, however, seemed oblivious to Hermione's words as he continued, "They also have massive ice cream balls that make you float a few inches off the ground while you eat them."
The train began to slow. The sound of its wheels diminished, replaced by the louder patter of rain outside. Harry, sitting closest to the door, stood to check the hallway. Passengers from other compartments were poking their heads out to look around. Suddenly, the train jolted to a halt. Distant thuds suggested luggage had fallen from racks. Then, without warning, all the lights went out, plunging them into complete darkness.
Augustus's expression grew serious. This was no natural phenomenon—it was deliberate. Who dared to intercept the Hogwarts Express?
Drawing his silver wand, he cast a Lumos spell, flooding the compartment with light. The icy air thickened as frost formed on the windows, glistening under the wand's glow.
Professor Lupin finally stirred awake. A faint crackling sound filled the compartment. "Stay where you are," he rasped, standing slowly with hands ablaze with a faint firelight. But before he reached the door, it creaked open on its own.
A towering, cloaked figure stood in the doorway, its hood nearly brushing the ceiling. Its face was hidden entirely in shadow. Harry's gaze drifted downward, and what he saw made his stomach lurch—a hand emerged from the cloak, ghostly gray, scabbed, and waterlogged, as though it had once belonged to something long dead. The hand retreated quickly, sensing Harry's stare. The creature beneath the hood inhaled deeply, a long, rattling breath, as though drawing more than air from its surroundings.
"A Dementor?" Augustus's eyes betrayed a flicker of disgust as the temperature plummeted. Everyone felt an intense cold sweep over them.
With a flick of his wand, Augustus traced an intricate trajectory in the air. His robes billowed as a six-pointed star appeared beneath him. A blinding light erupted from his wand's tip, illuminating the compartment like a miniature sun. The sudden brilliance banished the darkness entirely, accompanied by the hoarse cries of retreating Dementors.
The Grand Holy Art, a Level Eight forbidden spell of the light element, tore away the gentler façade of light magic, showcasing its formidable power to banish darkness.
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