— — — — — —
After the Dementors vanished, the temperature inside the train slowly returned to normal. Only a few students had realized what had actually happened—most were still clueless, whispering about the sudden chill.
Even the Aurors who'd escorted the Dementors aboard looked completely baffled.
"Is it just me, or did they… run away?"
One of them muttered the thought aloud as he stared into the dark beyond the window. The others had the same uneasy feeling but kept quiet, uncertain what to do next.
None of them wanted to go chasing after Dementors. Aurors or not, no one enjoyed that sickening, hollow sensation of having all joy sucked out of them.
The compartment door creaked open, and the elderly trolley witch stepped inside, glaring at them. "The Dementors are gone. What are you lot still doing here?"
The Aurors exchanged glances. Finally, one nodded, and they all slipped off the train.
With the Dementors gone, there was no reason to stay. They'd just report it to their superiors and let someone else figure it out.
The old witch watched them go, let out a faint humph, then flicked her wand. The train shuddered and began to move again.
As the wheels picked up speed, she tilted her head and murmured so softly it almost vanished beneath the clatter of the tracks: "A Patronus of that strength… Tom Riddle, what a monster indeed."
---
In another compartment, Tom slowly opened his eyes.
If it hadn't been for the girls asleep around him, he wouldn't have bothered intervening. Such trivial matters hardly deserved his attention.
---
On the other side of the train…
"What the hell were those things?" Harry asked, still shaken. "Were they trying to attack us?"
Because of Tom's earlier interference, he'd escaped unscathed—no fainting, no humiliation—and for that, he was unknowingly grateful. If he'd collapsed in front of everyone, Malfoy would've had material for months.
"No," Lupin said, frowning. "They were searching for prisoners."
He didn't understand why the Dementors had suddenly retreated, but he sheathed his wand anyway."Those were Dementors—the guards of Azkaban. Sirius probably mentioned them to you."
He hesitated, voice lowering. "They're likely here to find Bellatrix Lestrange and Lockhart."
Ron shuddered so hard his voice cracked. "Dementors? Out of Azkaban?!"
Harry's feelings were more complicated. Once, Lockhart had smiled for photos with him. Now he was a fugitive with a bounty higher than most Death Eaters.
Lupin still couldn't make sense of it. Dementors didn't just abandon a hunt. They always lingered to feed on the happiness of anyone nearby. To give up such a feast… something had scared them off.
But he had no answers. He only sighed, broke a large bar of chocolate into chunks, and handed them to the boys.
The train rattled on for another two and a half hours before reaching the Hogwarts station.
Only after disembarking did the younger witches learn there had actually been Dementors aboard.
"What's the Ministry thinking, sending those disgusting things here? I'm telling Mum," Daphne huffed as she climbed into a carriage, already pulling out her Codex to contact Lady Greengrass.
Hermione looked almost disappointed. "I didn't even get to see one up close."
Astoria shook her head quickly. "Trust me, Hermione. Once you've seen one, you'll never want to see another."
"Well, I'd still like to try once. Otherwise I'll just keep wondering," Hermione said stubbornly.
Tom gave her an exasperated tap on the head. "Fine. I'll catch one for you sometime so you can take a good look."
"Actually… maybe not." Hermione gave a weak laugh. "They're Ministry employees, remember? You'd get in trouble."
Their laughter filled the carriage as it rolled toward the castle gates.
Soon, all students were stepping down into the pouring rain, ignoring Filch's scolding as they dashed through the doors, shoes caked in mud.
Inside the Great Hall, the warmth of a thousand floating candles melted away the chill of the Scottish rain. Every year, the start of term fell on one of the dampest, dreariest weeks of the Highlands, and this was no exception.
Students chatted animatedly about the earlier incident—almost every conversation included the word "Dementor." It wasn't until the professors appeared that the noise finally began to die down.
In the wizarding world, Dementors were hated even more than Voldemort. Rumors spread quickly: some said a group of them would remain stationed near Hogwarts for "security." The thought left many faces pale. How were they supposed to study or sleep with monsters like that nearby?
Only one person in the hall looked worse—Snape.
He sat two seats away from Lupin, who was smiling pleasantly as he chatted with Professor Flitwick. Snape's hand clenched his fork so tight his knuckles went white. Tom half-expected him to leap across the table and stab Lupin in the neck.
And Dumbledore? Oh, Dumbledore definitely knew about their history. The whole school did. Yet he'd still hired Lupin, clearly unconcerned with Snape's feelings. Putting two lifelong enemies in the same workplace—Tom couldn't help thinking that sort of management style had a Korean drama flavor.
Sensing Tom's gaze, Dumbledore looked up and gave him a small, knowing smile. Tom didn't return it. He still hadn't forgotten how the old man had undermined him last time.
...
A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall entered through the side door, leading a line of nervous first-years.
The Sorting Ceremony began.
The Sorting Hat, which had apparently spent the entire year composing another terrible song, started belting it out. Tom tuned it out and instead activated his magical perception, studying the trembling new students.
He wanted to see whether the Sorting results truly aligned with their magical traits.
When he'd been sorted, the Hat hadn't even brushed his hair before shouting SLYTHERIN! Later, he realized why: he carried Andros's magical gift—ancient, pure, and perfectly fit with Slytherin's ideal of bloodline purity.
A hat capable of sensing something that subtle truly showed the brilliance of Hogwarts' founders.
Now, as he studied this new batch of trembling first-years—untrained, uncorrupted, their magic still raw and pure—Tom began to notice faint differences.
He couldn't find much in common among the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but the Gryffindors and Slytherins… their magic pulsed more actively, brighter, wilder.
If Hogwarts ever had to merge its Houses, it'd make sense: Ravenclaw with Hufflepuff, Gryffindor with Slytherin.
---
Half an hour later, the Sorting Ceremony finally wrapped up.
Professor McGonagall carried off the stool and hat, and Dumbledore rose to his feet.
"Welcome!" His long silver beard sparkled under the candlelight as his voice filled the hall. "Welcome back to our returning students, and a warm welcome to our new faces. I have a few announcements—one of them quite important—so it's best to get them out of the way before you all start eating and your brains turn to mush."
He paused, then continued in his usual calm, cheerful tone. "As you may have noticed on the train, Hogwarts is currently hosting several Dementors. They've been sent here by the Ministry on official business."
His voice dropped slightly. "Let me be perfectly clear: no trick or disguise can fool a Dementor. Do not attempt to leave the school grounds without permission. Every exit is being guarded."
The words fell heavily over the Great Hall. Dozens of students lowered their heads, clearly unhappy with the news.
Tom, however, wasn't focused on Dumbledore's warning. His mind was elsewhere.
Why was Lockhart's bounty higher than Bellatrix Lestrange's? Could a single wandless Memory Charm really make him that dangerous?
He wasn't the only one puzzled. Even Dumbledore couldn't explain it. Only a handful of people in the Ministry knew the truth: the bounty had been set high at the Dementors' own insistence.
Apparently, during the "incident," Lockhart had hit one of them with such a powerful Obliviate that it had literally forgotten how to feed. Its mind was blank, its body withering from starvation. If it went on much longer, it would probably die before the year's end.
That had terrified the Dementors. The idea of starving to death—of forgetting even their hunger—was beyond nightmare. To them, this one human wizard was a mortal enemy, a creature to be destroyed. They didn't want him imprisoned in Azkaban; they wanted him kissed, wiped from existence entirely.
Fudge had been hounded by their demands until he finally caved.
"Let's move to some happier topics, shall we?"
Dumbledore's smile returned, as though he hadn't just announced that soul-sucking monsters were patrolling the castle. "First, a reminder: this Wednesday, all classes will be suspended for a schoolwide placement exam. I encourage you to use the next few days to review thoroughly and hand in results that will make your professors proud."
A collective groan swept through the hall. The air practically dripped with despair.
Merlin's ass… what kind of term was this going to be?
Dementors at the gates, exams on day three, and the headmaster was calling this "good news." The teachers, however, looked rather pleased—which probably explained everything.
"And now," Dumbledore continued, beaming, "I'm delighted to introduce three new members of our staff."
"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly agreed to take up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
A smattering of polite applause followed, mostly from Gryffindor—led enthusiastically by Harry and the Weasleys.
The Slytherins, of course, weren't impressed with Lupin's shabby robes. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked uncertain too—most of them still thought Lockhart had been the best teacher that subject ever had.
Dumbledore gave a subtle nod of thanks before continuing. "Secondly, with deep regret, we bid farewell to Professor Kettleburn, who has retired. But I am pleased to announce that Rubeus Hagrid will be taking his place. As someone who has worked closely with magical creatures for many years, I have no doubt the Care of Magical Creatures will be both educational and exciting."
Tom started the applause this time. If there was one thing he respected about Hagrid, it was that the man was reliable.
During the summer, the shipments of Acromantula venom had arrived precisely on schedule, without a single mistake. For that alone, Hagrid deserved some support.
The half-giant's face flushed red as he nodded stiffly toward each House table. Teaching had always been his dream—especially a subject involving his beloved creatures.
"And finally," Dumbledore said, "our third new professor will be arriving in a few days' time, but I'll introduce him now. Dedalus Diggle will be teaching Muggle Studies. He's spent time living among Muggles and has a unique perspective on their culture. You'll soon see why I chose him. Now—let's eat!"
At once, the empty plates filled with steaming food.
This year's welcome feast was unusually calm. No disasters, no curses, no explosions—just the soft murmur of conversation and clinking cutlery. Students ate heartily, and time passed quickly. When the last slices of pumpkin pie vanished, Dumbledore led the school in a rousing, if tuneless, rendition of the Hogwarts song before dismissing everyone.
Many students bolted for their dorms, desperate to catch up on unfinished homework.
Tom didn't have any of that to worry about, but he had his own matters to handle, so he moved just as quickly toward the doors.
He was halfway across the entrance hall when a clear, firm voice called after him: "Mr. Riddle, a moment, please."
Tom turned. The crowd parted around Professor McGonagall, who stood waiting for him, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
He hesitated, frowning slightly.
Classes hadn't even started yet—what could she possibly want with him?
Was she trying to give him an early warning? A "let's try not to cause chaos this term" talk?
Whatever it was, it probably wasn't good.
.
.
.