The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The Hogwarts Slow Train arrived a little later than usual. As it puffed out its last steam and slowly pulled into Hogsmeade Station, night fell and it started raining again.

The platform lights swayed in the twilight drizzle, and Hagrid's figure, like a moving hill, waved his signature pink umbrella in the distance.

Unlike before, Professor McGonagall stood beside Hagrid, her lips pressed into a stern line, her gaze sweeping across each carriage as if she were counting heads.

Even Filch—the perpetually gloomy-faced administrator—was boarding the train, scanning every corner with his gleaming eyes, with Mrs. Lorris following at his feet, hissing uneasily.

Hermione peeked out the window; her hair, disheveled from the Dementor incident, looked even more frizzy. "Looks like the school's already heard; Professor McGonagall is here to pick us up."

Professor Lu Ping was the first to get off the bus. He had changed into a relatively neat robe, but the air of fatigue still lingered around him.

He strode over to Professor McGonagall and lowered his voice, saying, "Professor McGonagall, it's Dementors. The Ministry of Magic authorized them to search the train, but they... have gone out of control."

"Dumbledore already knows, he's furious, and he's already negotiating with the Ministry of Magic. But..." Professor McGonagall, clearly acquainted with Lupin, said softly, "Thanks to you this time, Lupin. It's fortunate you were in the carriage."

"Julien." Harry finally emerged from the cubicle, still pale, but with some color returning. Lupin's chocolate had worked, or rather, the feeling of being cared for had worked.

"I heard that you and your classmates just drove away... the Dementors? That's the name they told me."

"Oh, mainly Professor Lupin and some senior students, and of course I helped out too," Julien said softly.

"At least you're not scared, are you? Unlike me." Harry still felt a little frustrated, and even a little ashamed of having fainted earlier.

"Don't overthink it, Harry. Dementors are experts at sucking people's happiness; who wouldn't be afraid? Besides, it looks scarier than a ghost." Julien chuckled and patted Harry on the shoulder.

"But other people don't seem to react as strongly as I do."

That's because you've faced more fears than others.

"Can you call me? The spell to deal with Dementors?"

"No problem. However, I think Professor Lupin is more suitable to teach you than I am."

But tonight, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the candle flames floating in the air seemed dimmer than usual, as if some of the light had been absorbed by something.

Julien sat at the Ravenclaw table and looked around, noticing that the atmosphere was noticeably different this year.

The young wizards no longer excitedly called out to their friends as they had in previous years. Instead, they huddled together in small groups, whispering among themselves, their eyes occasionally drifting toward the hall doors, as if worried that some black thing in a tattered cloak might drift in from there at any moment.

"Did you just see that?" Edgar Finch pushed up his glasses, his voice extremely low. "I mean, on the train..."

"Of course, I was terrified." Kayson Moretti put a piece of roast beef into his mouth, but his chewing movements were noticeably more refined than usual. "I can't imagine what it must be like in Azkaban."

"Shh," Padma Petil leaned over from the side, her brown eyes filled with worry, "Don't say anything, I feel cold just thinking about it."

Julien did not participate in the discussion. His gaze swept across the long tables and landed on the teacher's seat, which had been vacant for a year.

At this time last year, Gilderoy Lockhart sat there, wearing a light blue robe, fixing his blond hair in front of the mirror. Now, that spot is empty, waiting for its new owner.

"Students!" Dumbledore's voice suddenly rang out, like a warm spring breeze dispelling the chill in the Great Hall.

The old headmaster stood up, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles sweeping across the room. His white hair and long robe gleamed softly in the candlelight.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Before we begin our dinner, allow me to introduce a new professor, whom some of you may have already met on the train. He is—"

He paused for a moment, then reached his right hand toward the end of the teachers' seat.

"Professor Remus Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

The applause was enthusiastic, but unlike the polite applause of previous years, which was mixed with snickers, this time the cheers erupted from the bottom of their hearts.

Especially those students who had experienced the train ordeal—Harry, Ron, and Hermione from Gryffindor clapped their hands vigorously, and Neville was so excited that he dropped his fork on the floor; at the Ravenclaw table, Terry Boot whistled; even among the usually calm Slytherin students, some whispered words of approval.

Lupin slowly walked to the empty seat. His gray-brown hair was slightly disheveled, and he wore a tired but gentle smile. He bowed slightly, his movements simple and sincere, without Lockhart's fancy manners.

“I witnessed Professor Lupin’s abilities on the train,” Penelope Crivate said to Rogers beside her, her voice unusually warm. “They were…fantastic! I’m already looking forward to his classes.”

Julien, who was listening nearby, nodded repeatedly. He remembered the warmth of Lupin's hand when he handed him the chocolate. This was a wizard who had truly experienced darkness, yet still chose to protect others.

However, at that moment, Julien noticed that at the other end of the teachers' table, Professor Snape was staring coldly at Lupin.

As the people around Lupin applauded, Snape impatiently tapped his fingers on the silver goblet in front of him, making a soft "tinkling" sound.

His dark eyes were half-closed, and the look in his eyes was not like that of someone looking at a new colleague, but rather like that of someone scrutinizing a potential threat.

"Professor Snape doesn't seem too happy," Daphne whispered at the Slytherin table, exchanging a glance with Elizabeth.

"Perhaps he has once again lost the opportunity to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." Elizabeth shrugged, not wanting to say much more to her headmaster.

Dumbledore waited until everyone quieted down, then coughed softly.

"Now, I must announce a security measure," Dumbledore's voice turned somber. "As you all know, Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."

A suppressed gasp filled the auditorium.

"The Ministry of Magic insists that Black may attempt to enter Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping over each terrified face. "Therefore, as a precaution, all entrances and exits of the school will be guarded by Dementors."

Dead silence.

All the teachers, including Snape, frowned.

Julien could feel Lisa Dupin trembling beside him. He saw Harry's face turn deathly pale at the Gryffindor table across the way.

Dementors—those terrifying creatures in tattered cloaks who feed on pleasure and souls—have just given them a vivid lesson on the train.

"I must remind everyone that Dementors are the most cruel and evil creatures in the world, and they have no mercy, so never give them a reason to harm you."

"But," Dumbledore raised his voice, a resolute glint in his blue eyes.

"Please rest assured. The Dementors will not enter the school. They will only patrol the perimeter and stand guard around the castle. You are safe here."

"Safety?" Draco Malfoy drawled, his voice carrying a deliberate arrogance, but Julien noticed his fingers trembling slightly. "What if that thing could float into the castle like a train?"

“They can’t, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, his gaze sharpening at the Slytherin table. “As long as you don’t leave the castle without permission and don’t break the curfew, you won’t encounter Dementors.”

"Remember," Dumbledore's voice echoed in the Great Hall, carrying a certain ancient power, "fear is the greatest enemy, and joy is the best weapon. As long as we hold hope and stand united, no darkness can truly harm us."

"Alright," Dumbledore clapped his hands, a smile returning to his face, "let's not let this spoil our appetite. Let's begin our dinner!"

Outside the window, the night wind of the Scottish Highlands howled past, and countless Dementors roamed around the castle, waiting for some foolish student to dare to step out of the castle.