HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 69: The Dementor on the Train

Passing through the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood billowing steam. With fifteen minutes until departure, Narcissa gave her son's collar a final adjustment.

She embraced Draco tightly on the bustling platform, lingering for quite some time. Draco looked embarrassed but was secretly pleased.

"You must take excellent care of yourself, Draco, do you understand?" Narcissa said, her voice catching. She hastily pressed a heavy coin purse into her son's pocket.

"Write to Mother frequently, and tell me if you need anything, yes?" She touched Draco's hair, her eyes glistening with moisture.

"Everyone's watching," Lucius said impatiently, fidgeting with his cane and affecting a stern expression.

"I have only one demand: don't take unnecessary risks, and be vigilant. Always keep a classmate with you—don't go anywhere alone," Lucius instructed his son. With that, he hastily handed him a small trunk engraved with the Malfoy family crest.

"These are sweets your grandfather asked me to bring you, from Honeydukes." He coughed awkwardly, seemingly developing a sudden keen interest in studying the steam billowing from the Express.

"Thank you, Father," Draco said.

He embraced his parents again, pretending not to notice their anxious eyes. Draco steeled himself, turned, and stepped onto the steaming Hogwarts Express.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had already secured a compartment toward the rear of the train and hurriedly helped with his luggage.

They'd grown considerably taller after a summer apart.

"Are you well? Father said you might be in danger," Goyle said. Draco spotted a rare flicker of concern on his usually vacant face.

"Don't worry—if Peter Pettigrew tries coming after you, with us here, he won't stand a chance," Crabbe declared confidently. His new haircut, rather resembling a bowl cut, made his face appear even rounder.

"It's fine," Draco said lazily. "I'm not afraid of him."

Crabbe and Goyle regarded him with admiration, awed by his words.

A loud whistle interrupted their conversation. Through the train window, Draco saw a guard walking along the platform, apparently preparing to close the doors.

A moment later, several familiar figures dragging trunks flashed past his compartment window. From the corner of his eye, Draco thought he glimpsed Hermione Granger's distinctive brown hair.

He suspected Harry and the others were probably searching for an empty compartment.

"Oh, they're in for disappointment," Crabbe said gleefully. "We're in the second-to-last compartment—the last one's already occupied."

"A sickly-looking adult I've never seen at Hogwarts. His robes are shabby..." Goyle said.

Sickly? Shabby and threadbare? The more Draco considered it, the more convinced he became that this must be the werewolf professor, Lupin.

The conversation didn't last long. Crabbe and Goyle were drawn to the various sweet boxes in Draco's trunk.

"Don't get your hopes up," Draco warned, shooting them a cautionary look. "These were purchased for me by my grandfather."

They exchanged a glance and sheepishly replaced the chocolates. Pure-blood children had almost all heard the legend of Abraxas, and they certainly wouldn't dare consume what the "Shadow Minister" had bought for his beloved grandson.

They gazed enviously at the Honeydukes label on the box, smacked their lips, and began discussing "exactly how many varieties of sweets Honeydukes stocks."

"I absolutely must visit during the Hogsmeade weekend," Crabbe's round face lit up with fascination. "Jelly Slugs, Fizzing Whizzbees, Ice Mice, Blood-Flavoured Lollipops... Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans with over seven hundred flavours... Sugar Quills that fill the entire room with bluebell-coloured bubbles... Pepper Imps that make you breathe fire... Cockroach Clusters that bounce around in your stomach after you eat them..."

Goyle, standing beside him, swallowed audibly.

"And those plump chocolate balls, filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream..." Crabbe said dreamily. "I could spend all day in Honeydukes!"

"I've discovered your talent, Crabbe," Draco said suddenly. "Your memory is truly exceptional when you're listing sweets."

Crabbe gave him a vacant smile.

"And he invariably makes people hungry just by talking..." Goyle added.

At one o'clock in the afternoon, the witch with the tea trolley finally appeared outside the door. Draco hurried from the compartment, intending to purchase a little of everything.

Just as he was directing the delighted Crabbe and Goyle to carry back a substantial pile of Cauldron Cakes and preparing to return to the compartment, he suddenly heard the girl's surprised voice.

"—Draco?"

Hermione had just emerged from the adjacent compartment. She was carrying a handful of coins, apparently planning to buy refreshments.

Draco glanced at her. She wore a grey jumper with fine red stripes, olive green trousers, and her brown hair hung loose over her shoulders.

He had to admit these peculiar Muggle clothes were never within his aesthetic preferences... but when she wore them, he couldn't help finding them appealing.

"I had no idea you were next door!" she said with a cheerful smile, the light from the corridor window reflecting in her eyes. "Would you like to come and sit in our compartment?"

Through the glass window, Draco peered inside: Harry, Ron, and the sleeping man with light brown hair—it was indeed the werewolf—Remus Lupin.

Instantly, the pleasant mood stirred by her clear eyes evaporated.

"No, your compartment's already quite crowded," he said slowly, a hint of wariness in his expression. "If I were you, I'd keep my distance from strangers."

"Oh, I suspect he might be the new professor—Professor R. J. Lupin—I found his name on his trunk." Hermione ignored his sardonic tone and said smugly, like a child awaiting praise.

Her radiant face brought a faint smile to his. Then came another wave of inexplicable frustration.

Draco didn't have time to process his volatile emotions, because the trolley witch was already growing impatient. Hermione quickly ordered several Pumpkin Pasties to appease the exhausted saleswitch who was eager to finish her rounds.

"You're observant. However, even if he's a professor, it doesn't guarantee he's harmless. I think you should remain vigilant." As she prepared to return to her compartment, he added meaningfully, "By the way, you didn't say anything inappropriate to him, did you?"

"Of course not." Hermione's face showed a flicker of guilt. "Well then, I'll return now."

She hastily grabbed the Pumpkin Pasties and departed, apparently rushing to warn Harry and Ron.

Draco shook his head, a barely perceptible smile on his lips, and returned to his compartment.

The train progressed slowly northward, and the sky gradually darkened. Against the windowpane, scattered raindrops transformed into heavy drumbeats, then into a torrential downpour.

Draco had already changed into his new school robes. Suddenly, silver-grey lanterns illuminated the corridor, casting soft light through the compartment windows. He rubbed his tired shoulders, and suddenly recalled the Muggle train Hermione had described during the summer holidays—a train called the "high-speed railway."

He asked Goyle thoughtfully as his friend ate heartily, "Did you know there are now faster trains in the world that can travel from London to Hogwarts in under three hours?"

Goyle regarded him with a puzzled expression, making indistinct noises. He'd just poured a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into his mouth, preparing to create chaos on his palate.

"Never mind, eat." Draco waved his hand dismissively, turned his head, and gazed at the sky outside the window—it was descending into complete darkness.

The train decelerated, and the noise from the pistons ceased.

Had they arrived at Hogwarts already?

A commotion arose outside the carriage. Draco opened the door and discovered that nearly everyone in each compartment was peering out. He spotted Harry looking out from the adjacent door, apparently preparing to greet him.

Before Draco could respond to Harry, a sudden jolt caught him off guard. He quickly seized the doorframe. At that moment, the corridor lights extinguished, plunging the entire train into absolute darkness.

A cacophony of screams and shouts erupted from students, all demanding, "What's happening?"

Certain distant memories were suddenly awakened in the ominous darkness. Draco abruptly remembered what had occurred on this train—the Dementors were about to board for inspection!

For some inexplicable reason, he'd completely forgotten and hadn't reminded Harry!

Draco hastily called into the darkness toward the rear, "Harry, may I come over?"

"Of course," Harry's voice came from nearby. "What's happened?"

"I'll explain later. Can I bring Crabbe and Goyle?" Draco asked.

"...All right." Harry hesitated momentarily, then agreed.

"Don't ask questions—come with me to the next compartment, and bring my chocolates! Now!" Draco said urgently to the two dark figures slumped in their seats behind him.

Crabbe and Goyle certainly wouldn't question him—they were completely subservient to Draco.

"Ron, you need to put that pet basket on the luggage rack. Draco's coming over—" they heard Harry say next door.

The three of them, under the cold, faint moonlight, carefully felt their way along the corridor walls and soon squeezed into Harry's compartment.

Several figures were vaguely visible in the darkness. Draco quickly said, "It's me, Harry, we're here."

"I think I saw something board at the rear—" A figure was peering out the window; the voice sounded like Ron's.

"Draco, is that you?" Hermione's worried voice rang out from the doorway.

"It's me," he said. And she found him precisely in the darkness and grasped his sleeve.

"What's happened?" she asked, her voice filled with unease and a hint of relief.

"It's Dementors. They're boarding to inspect the train." Draco couldn't waste time with preamble—Dementors could appear any moment—so he cut straight to the point.

A collective gasp of shock rippled through the compartment.

"Oh no!" Hermione and Ron exclaimed simultaneously. Goyle and Crabbe, meanwhile, released groans of dismay.

"Dementors? Aren't they Azkaban guards?" Harry asked, still confused.

"They're searching for Peter Pettigrew. Harry, you should stay away from the door." Draco's voice sounded unusually calm in the darkness.

"You stepped on my foot," Harry said painfully.

"Oh, sorry," Draco said dismissively, pulling Hermione along with one hand while struggling to reach for his wand with the other. "Harry, move closer to Professor Lupin. Hermione, sit down... Crabbe, Goyle, you two sit with Ron."

Another period of chaos ensued, and finally the door was firmly shut.

"Why are they sitting over here!" Ron complained.

"Oh, shut it, Weasley," Goyle said.

"Yeah, fancy a fight?" Crabbe asked belligerently.

"Stop arguing—look at the window!" Hermione curtly interrupted them.

They saw frost forming on the transparent windows, frost patterns gradually appearing on the smooth glass as the air grew frigid.

Now Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle all fell silent. They huddled together, trembling.

"Harry, could you please wake Professor Lupin?" Draco said to Harry across Hermione.

Although Draco maintained his distance from Lupin the werewolf, he had to assess the situation. Lupin was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and provided it wasn't a full moon, what he could accomplish awake was definitely superior to doing nothing whilst asleep.

"Of course," Harry said.

Hermione could feel Draco's warm breath near her ear. It was only early September, yet the temperature was abnormally cold. This was decidedly unnatural.

As Harry called to the weary professor, Hermione whispered to Draco, "Draco, are Dementors truly frightening?"

Draco didn't have time to answer. He heard the door sliding open softly, and a blast of frigid air emanated from that direction.

Click! A beam of light, brilliant as daylight, shot from Draco's hand toward the compartment door.

"What sort of spell is that?" Ron asked in surprise. "It's so bright—"

"Oh, don't be daft! That's the Muggle torch I gave Draco during the summer." Hermione's tone held some satisfaction. "I didn't expect you'd still have it with you—" She peeked from behind Draco and cautiously examined the compartment door.

Through the bright light, everyone in the compartment saw a cloaked shadow.

A greyish-white, decaying hand emerged from beneath the cloak. The hand rested on the doorframe, gleaming eerily. The shadow beneath the cloak peered into the compartment, apparently searching for something.

"Don't panic," Draco heard his own voice sound glacial. "It's merely routine inspection."

Goyle and Crabbe huddled together, attempting to minimize their presence. They squeezed toward Ron, apparently wanting to distance themselves from the compartment door as much as possible.

Ron didn't complain—he was too frightened to speak.

"Draco, Harry seems very unwell—" Hermione said anxiously, clutching the hem of his robes. "He's convulsing."

At this moment, Draco realized Harry's calls for Professor Lupin had ceased.

Draco understood something was wrong with Harry; he also felt extremely cold and uncomfortable.

As the Dementor drew nearer, fragmented images began flashing before his eyes: a tower struck by lightning... the drawing room floor of Malfoy Manor... countless chaotic and terrifying memories from his nightmares flooded his consciousness simultaneously, and he was nearly overwhelmed by these horrifying emotions.

"Draco—" Hermione called him again, her voice trembling.

Merlin, he had to do something.

"Hermione, wake Professor Lupin." Draco gritted his teeth and shielded her from view—he could feel her trembling as she leaned against his back.

He struggled to control his own shaking body and shouted to the dark figure, "We don't have Peter Pettigrew here—please leave!"

The Dementor didn't move.

A long, rattling breath came from beyond the door, as darkness like water engulfed him, assaulting him where he stood closest to the entrance.

A feeling of despair began gripping his heart... This was decidedly unpleasant.

For a moment, Draco was plunged into numbness, both physically and mentally. Darkness veiled his vision like a thin shroud. He was unable to move, forced to passively endure the all-encompassing chill.

The girl behind him suddenly embraced his waist in terror. Hermione realized she was exhaling fearful sounds, her face instinctively buried against the boy's shoulder. She too was swept away by that inexplicable, bone-chilling cold; she could see nothing, grasp nothing—only he before her was real. He was the only barrier in her subconscious that could protect her.

Her voice and movements awakened him from his near-paralysis. Draco grasped her hands clasped before him as though seizing a lifeline—those soft hands provided him warmth. Her warm touch rekindled his will to survive amid the extreme cold.

She was frightened. She was trembling.

She mustn't be harmed—she mustn't!

He rallied, knowing he couldn't simply surrender.

Draco didn't have many options. Casting a spell on the Hogwarts Express before even reaching Hogsmeade Station could cause trouble; but at this moment, survival was paramount.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, brandishing his wand toward the doorway.

A massive silver shadow, like smoke, erupted from his wand and hovered in the compartment doorway. This cloud of silver vapor temporarily halted the Dementor's advance; startled by the light, it retreated a step.

But that was all.

Draco's Patronus Charm was incomplete. He'd only studied it for a fortnight and could barely produce a wisp of silver smoke—considerable progress for a beginner.

However, the limitations were obvious. An incomplete Patronus couldn't repel Dementors; it only possessed a deterrent effect—it could temporarily suppress them—but couldn't resolve the fundamental problem.

The Dementor remained hovering in the doorway, locked in stalemate with Draco. It refused to depart. It emitted long, hoarse rattling breaths and tentatively lunged forward again, its scabbed, clammy grey hand reaching into the compartment, as though something in this small space had piqued its intense interest.

A thick wave of panic rose in Draco's chest. The silver smoke at his wand-tip was wavering and dimming... He felt no joy, only endless anguish... The putrid, deathly chill of the Dementor was assaulting his lungs... He gasped for breath, feeling as though he were suffocating.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried again, but his voice sounded distant and indistinct. Another wisp of silver smoke, even thinner and weaker than before, spewed from his wand-tip—he felt feeble and powerless.

Then he felt a pair of hands tightly gripping his.

It was Hermione.

Hermione introducing herself with a smile. Hermione laughing as she embraced him on the skateboard. Hermione placing chocolate in his mouth at the Muggle chocolatier with a mischievous smile. Hermione perfectly mediating conflicts, smiling triumphantly at him.

She trembled behind him, unable to speak, but still held him tightly.

"Expecto Patronum!" he called again, his mind filled with her various smiles. Her smiles directed at him.

The silver smoke erupted again, stronger this time, causing the Dementor to release an angry hiss. It retreated, its grey hand temporarily withdrawing.

Draco gasped for breath, maintaining the wisp of silver mist, secretly hoping it could endure a bit longer.

He wasn't certain how much longer he could persevere—casting the Patronus Charm was extraordinarily draining—but he couldn't retreat, at least not until she was safe.

"Professor Lupin!" he heard Hermione scream behind him, her voice still laden with fear. He gritted his teeth, struggling to sustain his crumbling silver smoke.

His mind was about to collapse, and the Dementor was approaching again; at that moment, a larger silver shield materialized behind him and rushed toward the door.

The man who'd been sleeping with his hood up—Remus Lupin—finally awoke.

The Dementor that had been lingering fled quickly from the compartment, which had been as appealing as a feast.

Click! The overhead lights suddenly restored. A feeble mew came from the luggage rack.

Under the somewhat harsh light, Draco, ashen-faced, slumped into his seat and released a long exhale. He gestured with his chin toward Crabbe and Goyle, who stood like petrified statues, and said in a hoarse voice, "Distribute the chocolate to everyone—"

The two large boys finally emerged from their stupor. They nodded blankly, then extracted handfuls of chocolates from their pockets and distributed them to everyone in the compartment.

Draco heard Ron whisper to Crabbe, "Thanks."

The rustling sounds of foil wrappers echoed around them. Hermione was no longer hiding behind him, nor clinging to his waist. She pressed against his arm, observing his weak and pallid expression, and carefully fed him a piece of chocolate.

Draco instinctively accepted it, and warmth immediately surged through his limbs.

"Thank you." He forced a weak smile and slowly turned to her. "Are you all right?"

"Much better now. But—" Hermione turned to regard Harry beside her with concern. His eyes were closed, his head tilted to one side, and his body rigid, nearly sliding from his seat to the floor.

"He's fainted. He's fine—he'll wake shortly." Professor Lupin gave Harry a quick examination and announced to the anxious students in the compartment, "I think he should lie down and rest."

But this small accommodation seemed difficult to achieve—the compartment was currently crowded.

Seven people were crammed together, plus Hermione's sickly ginger cat.

"Crabbe, Goyle, let's go distribute chocolates to nearby students." Draco waved to them, preparing to leave.

"Actually, you should rest longer. I don't think you've recovered yet," Professor Lupin said gently but firmly to Draco.

He turned to Ron. "Could you accompany them and help distribute the chocolate?"

"Of course," Ron said blankly, his color returning after consuming the chocolate.

"Go on, Ron, we'll look after Harry. Find Ginny, yes? I expect she's terrified," Hermione said, holding her frightened cat.

Professor Lupin watched silently as the three of them filed out.

After they departed, he turned and regarded Draco, whose face was still pale, with his gentle amber eyes.

"You're very brave." He gave a weary smile and said, "It's remarkable that a soon-to-be third-year student can cast a Patronus Charm."

Draco studied Lupin, his mind filled with uncertainty.

In his thoughts, Remus Lupin had always been a dangerous werewolf.

But today, he'd saved everyone in a critical moment.

"I haven't fully mastered it yet," Draco explained to Lupin, softening his tone. "If it weren't for the emergency, I wouldn't have wanted to cast it."

"You did everything you should have, and I'll explain to the authorities the necessity of your spell," Lupin said. "But what about these Dementors? They only have authority to conduct routine patrols and shouldn't have lingered so long."

"But it wouldn't leave," Draco said quietly. "It wanted to attack us, which is highly unusual."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "Is there something special about this compartment?"

The compartment grew quiet.

The three of them, along with the large ginger cat, all cast worried glances at Harry, who was covered in cold perspiration and unconscious.