Outside the compartnt, students laughed and chased one another down the narrow
corridors. Inside, the young wizards talked excitedly about their upcoming trips
to Hogsade, casting occasional, curious glances at their sleeping professor.
Sean took the opportunity to observe Lupin. The man looked even more gaunt than
he had at the bookshop. It made sense; he had spent the last forty-eight hours
straight interviewing potential successors for the manager position at Green's
Bookshop.
Despite his exhaustion, his appearance had improved slightly. Though he still
wore his patched robes, they were clean and pressed. He had brought the sa
battered suitcase Sean had seen before. Sean knew his own Transfiguration charms
didn't last forever, which ant Lupin had been ticulously renewing the
"Vine-Stiffening Hex" himself to keep the case from falling apart.
Lupin was a man who rembered every ounce of kindness shown to him. Perhaps it
was because he had received so little of it over the years—much like a certain
young wizard sitting across from him.
As the train rattled along, Sean gradually imrsed himself in the ocean of
magical history. He held the unfinished manuscript of The Wizarding Magical
Annals in his lap, sitting perfectly still. Only an occasional flick of his
finger caused the pages to turn of their own accord.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food trolley appeared at the door.
"Do you think we should wake him?" Ron asked, nodding toward Professor Lupin. He
looked a bit conflicted. "He looks like he could use a bite to eat."
Hermione leaned forward cautiously. "Er—Professor?" she whispered. "Excuse
—Professor?"
He didn't stir.
"Justin, you have a go—he's your..." Hermione turned to Justin.
"He's exhausted, Hermione," Justin said with a helpless shrug. "It took him two
days and a night of high-pressure interviews to find a wizard qualified enough
to run the shop."
"Don't you worry, dear," the trolley witch said, handing a massive stack of
Cauldron Cakes to Justin. "If he wakes up feeling peaky, I'll be up front with
the driver."
"I suppose he is just sleeping?" Ron whispered after the witch slid the door
shut. "I an—he hasn't kicked the bucket, has he?"
"He's still breathing, Ron," Hermione said softly, taking a Cauldron Cake from
Justin.
Professor Lupin might not have been the most engaging travel companion, but
having an adult in the room felt oddly reassuring. By mid-afternoon, the rain
began to fall in earnest, blurring the rolling hills outside into a smudge of
watery grey.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. Three familiar,
unwelco faces appeared at the glass door.
Draco Malfoy stood in the center, flanked by his two "gorillas," Vincent Crabbe
and Gregory Goyle. Malfoy had the sa pale, pointed face and permanent sneer
that usually signaled trouble. He was the Slytherin Seeker, a rival to Harry in
more ways than one.
Of course, neither of them had ever managed to beat the Ravenclaw Seeker—Sean.
It was a running joke at Hogwarts: if you accidentally started winning against
Ravenclaw, the blue-and-bronze house would simply "summon their core," and the
ga was over. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, often felt a sense of
profound powerlessness regarding the matter. How do you beat a Seeker who
seemingly never trains yet moves like lightning the mont he touches a broom?
"Well, look who it is," Malfoy drawled, sliding the door open. "Potty and the
Weasel-bee."
Crabbe and Goyle let out low, troll-like chuckles.
"Wait—"
Malfoy suddenly raised a hand, cutting his cronies off mid-laugh. His eyes
darted toward the corner of the compartnt.
There sat Sean, his dark hair ssy, his eyes fixed intently on his book. At the
sound of the intrusion, Sean's brow knit into a faint, irritated frown.
"Shut up," Malfoy hissed at his two followers, his voice dropping an octave.
Crabbe and Goyle instantly went silent. No wizard who had attended the Dueling
Club the previous year was stupid enough to underestimate Sean Green while he
was reading. If you were lucky, he'd ignore you. If you weren't, you'd find
yourself flat on your back before you could draw your wand.
"I heard your father finally ca into so gold this sumr, Weasley," Malfoy
whispered, though the lack of volu robbed the insult of its usual bite. "Did
your mother die of shock?"
Even though Malfoy was practically whispering, Ron bolted upright, knocking
Crookshanks's basket to the floor with a loud thud.
Lupin let out a soft snort in his sleep.
"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, instinctively taking a half-step back into the
corridor.
"A new teacher," Harry said, standing up to keep a hand on Ron's arm. "What were
you saying, Malfoy?"
Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed. He wasn't a total fool. He wasn't going to start a
brawl under the nose of a professor—and more importantly, he wasn't going to
risk a fight in front of Sean. To interrupt Sean Green's study ti was
considered a death wish among the student body.
"Let's go," Malfoy muttered to his cronies, trying to look as though he had
planned to leave anyway.
The three of them vanished. Harry and Ron sat back down, Ron still flexing his
knuckles.
"I'm not taking his rubbish this term," Ron growled. "I an it. If he makes one
more crack about my family, I'm going to grab him by the—"
Ron made a violent, neck-wringing gesture in the air.
"Ron, you're a wizard. Use a spell," Hermione reminded him dryly.
"Oh!" Ron's eyes lit up. He had spent his second year at Hogwarts actually
applying himself for once. "Right! I know eight different jinxes now. Watch,
I'll—"
Hermione cut him off with a sharp look, pointing to the man in the corner.
Professor Lupin had finally opened his eyes.
"Hello there," Lupin said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. his voice was raspy but
warm. "It sounds like things were getting a bit lively."
"Professor Lupin," Hermione said, her posture straightening.
"Hello, Miss Granger," Lupin smiled.
Hermione blinked in shock. "How do you—?"
They had seen the na on his case, but how did he know hers?
Lupin gestured to the book in her lap. Her na and year were neatly inscribed
on the inside cover in her own precise handwriting.
"Oh..." Hermione flushed a bright pink.
"A third-year student," Lupin noted. Then he turned his gaze to the rest of the
group. "Tell ... do any of you happen to know a wizard by the na of Green?"
"Why are you looking for him?" Ron asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and
protective suspicion.
"It seems he's quite famous even at Hogwarts," Lupin chuckled. "As for why...
would 'demanding my back wages' suffice? I've been looking forward to eting
him in person to... negotiate."
Hermione and Harry looked skeptical, but Ron was hooked. "He's right—"
Before Ron could finish, the train lurched. The rain was drumming against the
glass now, turning the world into a watery, lightless smudge as the sky grew
dark.
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