The compartment was a tomb of freezing, absolute silence.
The air was so cold it burned to breathe, each exhale forming a thick cloud of white mist in the dark. Pansy was trembling violently, clutching Draco's arm, while Crabbe and Goyle sat like terrified stone gargoyles. Daphne's hand was gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles were translucent.
Orion stood rigidly before the door, his blue eyes locked onto the frosted glass of the corridor window.
They only attack Potter, Orion repeated the mantra in his mind, trying to keep his pulse steady. They are searching for Sirius Black. They have no reason to breach this compartment.
But as he watched, the shadows shifting in the corridor outside began to solidify.
It was a towering, cloaked figure that seemed to absorb the very light around it. It moved with a slow, gliding, unnatural grace.
The temperature plummeted further. The shadow paused outside their door.
Through the frost, Orion saw a hand emerge from the rotting, tattered black cloak. It was a hand that belonged in a grave—grey, scabbed, and glistening with decay.
The hand reached out, hovering inches from the glass. It didn't touch the handle. It didn't turn it. It simply waved, a slow, deliberate, agonizingly slow motion over the lock.
Click.
Orion's eyes widened.
Shit, Orion thought, a jolt of genuine alarm piercing his calm. A simple Colloportus isn't enough. They possess their own ambient, decaying magic that bypasses rudimentary wards.
The door slid slowly open, protesting with a harsh, grating screech.
The Dementor stood in the doorway.
The sheer, overwhelming wave of despair hit Orion like a physical blow. It wasn't just sadness; it was a total, suffocating emptiness. It was the feeling that he would never be warm again, never be happy again, that the world was nothing but ash and rot.
Behind him, Pansy let out a strangled, whimpering sob.
The Dementor began to glide forward, turning its hooded, faceless head, searching the compartment for the fugitive it was hunting.
"Oh, no you don't," Orion hissed, his voice tight with effort.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't wait for it to realize Black wasn't there. He raised his Hawthorn wand, pointing it directly at the rotting chest of the creature.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, tearing his mind away from the suffocating dread filling the room. He bypassed the fear, diving deep into his mental 'Safe Room'. He grasped the memory he had practiced all summer—the warm, golden light of the dining room, his mother's laughter, the exasperating but familiar presence of his brother, the feeling of absolute, untouchable security.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A brilliant, blinding blast of silver-white light erupted from the tip of his wand. It hit the doorway and exploded outward, forming a solid, shimmering wall of pure, concentrated joy between the Dementor and the students.
The Dementor halted. It let out a rattling, sucking breath, recoiling slightly from the radiant heat of the shield.
Orion held the spell, his teeth gritted. The magic was draining him rapidly. The shield was dense, practically opaque, completely blocking the Dementor's line of sight into the compartment.
It's not enough to drive it away, Orion realized, feeling the terrible, freezing pressure of the creature pushing against his magic. But it's enough to hold the line.
He stood his ground, the silver light illuminating the terrified faces of his housemates behind him, locked in a stalemate with the embodiment of despair.
Suddenly, a bright, tearing flash of silver light illuminated the corridor outside.
From the direction of the front carriages, a massive, corporeal Patronus came charging down the hall. It was a wolf, rendered in brilliant, glowing silver light, running with terrifying speed.
It didn't stop. It slammed bodily into the Dementor lingering in Orion's doorway.
The impact was silent but devastating. The Dementor was thrown backward, tumbling into the corridor, its rattling breath turning into a sound of pained distress. The silver wolf didn't pause; it bounded forward, continuing its charge down the train to clear the remaining cars.
The oppressive, suffocating cold shattered instantly, replaced by the normal, mundane chill of the Scottish rain outside.
Orion lowered his wand, the silver shield dissipating into wisps of smoke. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the doorframe, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The mental fatigue of holding the Patronus against a direct Dementor assault was intense.
He reached out and physically grabbed the handle of the sliding door, slamming it shut with a resounding BANG.
"Right," Orion panted, turning to face his traumatized housemates. He reached into his robes and pulled out the massive pile of Chocolate Frogs he had bought earlier.
He began tossing them onto the laps of his friends.
"Eat," Orion commanded, his voice hoarse but steady. "All of it. Now."
Draco was staring at the door, his face chalk-white, his hands trembling as he unwrapped a frog. Pansy was crying silently. Daphne took a piece of chocolate, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it.
"Eat," Orion repeated softly, taking a large bite of chocolate himself. The rich, sweet taste immediately began to push back the lingering, icy shadows in his mind.
They sat in silence for several minutes, the only sound the rustling of wrappers and the chewing of chocolate as the train's lights flickered back on with a hum. The engine jerked, and the train slowly began to move again.
A few minutes later, a sharp knock sounded on their door.
Orion stood up, wand ready, but before he could cast, the door slid open.
Standing there was a man who looked like he had been through a war and lost. His robes were shabby, patched, and frayed at the edges. He looked ill, exhausted, and prematurely aged, his light brown hair flecked with grey.
But his eyes were sharp, kind, and incredibly alert.
"Is everyone in here alright?" Remus Lupin asked, his voice calm and reassuring. He held a large, jagged piece of chocolate in his hand. "I brought some... oh, I see you are already partaking. An excellent decision."
"We are fine," Daphne managed to say, her voice still trembling slightly. She looked up at Orion. "Thanks to Orion's Patronus."
Lupin stopped. He turned his tired eyes toward Orion, genuine, profound surprise registering on his face.
"A Patronus?" Lupin asked, looking at the thirteen-year-old boy. "You cast a Patronus against a Dementor? At your age? That is... remarkable."
"I am merely capable of generating a shield, Professor," Orion replied modestly, leaning against the wall, downplaying the achievement. "It is not a corporeal form. It was sufficient to block the doorway, nothing more."
Lupin shook his head slowly. "Even a non-corporeal shield is highly commendable, especially under direct pressure. It takes immense focus."
He studied Orion for a moment, recognizing the features. "You must be Orion Malfoy. The Headmaster spoke of you."
Orion inclined his head. "He did?"
"He mentioned you have a habit of being exactly where you are needed," Lupin smiled faintly. He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "You called me Professor. How did you know?"
"A simple deduction, sir," Orion said smoothly, offering a polite smile. "You are an adult traveling on the Hogwarts Express, possessing the capability to cast a fully corporeal Patronus. Combine that with the fact that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been glaringly vacant since Gilderoy Lockhart's... grand exit... last year, and the conclusion practically draws itself."
Also, I already knew it anyway. Orion added in his mind.
Lupin let out a quiet, appreciative chuckle. "Astute. Very astute, Mr. Malfoy."
He stepped back into the corridor. "I must go check on the other students. Ensure everyone recovers from the cold. Please, continue eating the chocolate. It helps."
As Lupin turned to leave, Daphne suddenly stood up, clutching her bag.
"Professor," Daphne said, her voice urgent. "I need to check on my sister, Astoria. She is a first-year. She is a few cars down."
"Of course," Lupin nodded kindly. "The corridors are safe now."
Orion reached over and grabbed a handful of remaining Chocolate Frogs, pressing them into Daphne's hand.
"Take these," Orion instructed softly. "Make sure she eats them."
Daphne looked at the chocolate, then up at Orion, her icy demeanor melting into a look of deep, genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Orion."
She hurried out of the compartment, following Lupin down the hall.
Orion sat back down, letting out a long, slow breath. The year hadn't even officially started, and he had already faced down a Dementor.
"Well," Orion murmured to the trembling Draco, picking up another piece of chocolate. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."