The whole mountain range was swallowed by rain, cold mist drifting everywhere. Dementors thrived in weather like this. The second the Thestral's wings beat, they sensed it.
The young professor rode in on the skeletal horse and slowed to a stop, holding the reins as its scaly wings flapped in the downpour. His eyes locked on a figure by the tracks, and his expression turned… weird.
A scrawny black dog. The tag-along from the trip back to school.
Melvin was surprised to see Sirius Black show up, but he wasn't about to call off the Dementor hunt. A wanted fugitive wasn't exactly gonna run to the Ministry and snitch.
He urged the Thestral closer.
The Dementor picked up on the hostility and got pissed. It had already been driven off the train; a whole car full of tasty emotions, gone. Now some wizard was picking a fight? It just wanted to give this idiot a nice, fatal kiss.
The gray-black creature lifted its hooded head, inhaling with a wet rasp. Cold mist poured out, and that soul-sucking pull rolled over everything.
It barely got a taste before a burst of brilliant silver light exploded; like lightning ripping through clouds, or moonlight cutting through endless dark. The whole mountainside lit up like noon.
The Patronus; a massive, glowing serpent; coiled its lower body on the ground, head lowered slightly as it loomed over the Dementor. A perfect silver moon pulsed above it, radiating raw power.
The Dementor froze mid-air, mind blank with terror. Instinct screamed at it to run, but its body was locked in place. Its tattered cloak; woven from alien magic; whipped in the wind, fraying at the edges like it might tear apart.
The gusts bloated its hood, revealing half a corpse-like face: sunken skull sockets, two thin slits for a nose, no teeth or tongue; just a mouthpiece. A rubbery tube ran from throat to chest, like a vacuum hose.
Silver light hit it, and the murky fog in its eye sockets boiled. The cold gray mist around it churned, clashing with the moonlight flooding the air.
Melvin gave his wand a lazy flick.
The silver light snapped tight, condensing into a blinding sun. The Dementor; immune to most spells; had nowhere to go. Gray mist steamed from its mouth and nose, its chest caving in as gas rushed out that tube with a wailing screech.
The rain hissed as it evaporated on contact.
Sirius, watching from below, suddenly remembered a Muggle movie he'd seen once; vampires burning in summer sun, flesh igniting like dry kindling, crumbling to ash.
He'd always thought Dementors were immortal, like vampires. But under this magic, the creatures born of despair looked fragile as glass.
The rain kept pouring. The Dementor clung to consciousness, desperate. Just as it was about to fade, it sensed a gap in the blazing cage; cool, inviting air below.
Survival instinct took over. It dove; straight into the trap.
The suitcase lid slammed shut. The silver light vanished. Silence.
The scattered clouds closed in. The storm grew heavier, washing away every trace. The Hogwarts Express; somehow restarted; had already left the mountains and was cutting through the Scottish Highlands.
Melvin scanned the hills and sky; no Dementor aura, no magical trace. He tugged the Thestral's reins and landed beside the tracks.
The black dog just stood there, soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned rat; but calm, watching the young wizard approach.
It acted like it hadn't seen the dazzling magic. After all, it was playing the part of a magic-less stray. Dogs had bad eyesight anyway; couldn't see Dementors or Patronuses.
Melvin dismounted. The Thestral stamped a hoof. He walked over with a faint, amused smile.
The dog was drenched from chasing the train; hot breath steaming from its nose and mouth. Ribs and spine showed through its fur. Thinking about it swimming the North Sea, wandering London, guarding Harry from Privet Drive to Diagon Alley, then chasing the Express all the way to Hogsmeade…
Melvin had to admit; the guy had grit.
"You're as stubborn as Andy Dufresne," he said, stopping a dozen feet away. A wicked grin crept onto his face. "Nice, sturdy dog like you? Bet you'd make a killer stew."
This wizard eats dog?!
Sirius's dog eyes went wide with panic. Screw staying hidden; better to be caught than cooked! He started shifting back;
But before he could, Melvin's wand spat a jet of white light that sank into the dog's body.
Oh no;
The Stunning Spell slowed his thoughts. The last thing he saw was the Thestral's sharp teeth and the wizard's weird smile. Then; darkness.
Melvin looked down at the collapsed dog. Fur patchy, some spots bald. Rain had soaked through to the skin; now dripping off as muddy water.
A stray that hadn't been bathed in years; maybe decades. Soaked in the sea for weeks, roaming cities for a month. Melvin shook his head. No way he was Apparating with that.
He pulled a chunk of dragon meat from somewhere and fed it to the Thestral, patting its head.
"Take this dog to Hogsmeade. Dump it in some back alley. Then head back to Diagon Alley. Got it?"
The Thestral swallowed, nuzzled his arm, and let out a low, soft whinny.
"Don't worry," Melvin said, scratching its head. "I'll Apparate on my own."
Satisfied, the Thestral trotted over, gently clamped the dog's scruff in its jaws, and lifted it like a puppy. With a flap of wings, it soared toward Hogsmeade.
"Sweet dreams, Sirius Black."
Melvin watched them go, smiled, and vanished with a crack.
---
Huff… huff…
Hot, wet breath on his neck.
Something sharp gnawed at his skin.
Muggle science says the brain weaves bodily sensations into dreams when you're half-conscious. Sirius was living that now; only this dream sucked.
The hot breath was a beast drooling. The teeth were the Thestral's. The wizard had a knife and fork. Sirius was being roasted, carved, his meager flesh picked clean.
Huff… huff…
The breath slowed. The pain eased. Maybe the eater was pacing himself.
Panic surged harder. He's adding more wood to the fire. Escaped Azkaban, crossed oceans, got back to Harry; only to end up as dinner?
Drip… drip…
Something warm and wet brushed his face; like basting with oil and honey. A faint stench; his own, or some weird spice?
No. Can't go out like this. Wormtail's still out there. Harry needs me!
He jolted awake.
The black dog curled up in dim light. The rain had stopped. His fur was dry; except his face and neck. Looming over him was the Thestral, wings folded, head tilted as it checked on him.
Where's the wizard?
Sirius whipped his head around. Soft light hit his eyes. He was lying outside an old shop. A battered wooden sign hung above the door; a severed pig's head, blood soaking the cloth.
"The Hog's Head?"
He stared at the sign, eyes welling with tears.
---
Evening, Hogwarts.
The Great Hall was decked out; second only to the Christmas feast. Lights blazed, banners fluttered. Melvin knew the decorations were leftover supplies; McGonagall loved clearing inventory before term started. Cheap and dazzling.
As a professor in his second year, he was cutting it close. Walking in, he got silent, wide-eyed glares from colleagues.
Hey, I'm just an elective teacher, not a head of house.
He apologized with a sheepish grin and took his seat at the staff table.
Dumbledore and the four Heads were there. Other elective professors too. Per tradition, the Express would arrive in about half an hour.
"Melvin, congratulations on the Order of Merlin! We all heard about your Paris adventure…"
Flitwick jumped in first. The others piled on. Everyone knew the details; like La Gazette du Sorcier was distributed worldwide.
Melvin set down his case with a helpless smile. "Just ran into some dark wizards."
He fielded the teasing, then talk shifted to summer travels. Babbling's trip to the Yucatán for ancient runes was a highlight. Melvin listened, eyeing the school and staff he hadn't seen in two months.
Everything looked the same. Dumbledore and McGonagall were huddled, murmuring about school business; "Dementors" and "escapee" drifting over now and then.
Hagrid; usually a walking disaster; looked stiff. No moleskin coat today. He'd actually dressed up: deep blue dress robes, hair and beard combed.
Flitwick and Sprout snickered. "Looking sharp, Hagrid."
"Oh, thanks. First day back; wanted to make a good impression on the kids."
He stood too fast and nearly flipped the table, face flushing. "They should be here soon. Gotta go meet the first-years at the platform."
Laughter rippled down the table.
---
"Harry! Harry! You okay?" Someone was slapping his face.
"Huh? What happened?"
Harry sat up, blinking. The compartment swayed gently. Lights were back on. The train was moving again. His friends crowded around. Crisis over.
He just felt… rough. Shivering, weak. Forehead and back clammy with cold sweat.
He pulled his robes tighter, breath shaky.
"Here, eat some chocolate. It'll help," Professor Lupin said, breaking off a big piece and handing it over.
Harry ate it. Warmth spread through him, chasing away the chill. Memories of before he passed out came back. "What… what was that?"
"Dementor. Azkaban guard."
Lupin passed the rest of the bar around. "Must've been a patrol looking for the escapee. Spotted the train in the storm…"
He frowned, crumpled the wrapper, and stuffed it in his pocket. "I'll go talk to the driver. Make sure it doesn't happen again. Stay put."
Harry watched him go, the name nagging at him. Then it clicked; Professor Lewinter had mentioned him. His dad's old friend.
Looking at Lupin's patched robes, Harry scratched his head and sighed. "Can someone tell me what just happened?"
"You passed out," Ron said, still a little pale but rattling off details like a pro. "Went stiff, fell off the seat, started twitching; thought you were screaming. Then Lupin chased the Dementor off."
Ginny and Neville were there too. Harry's face heated. "Anyone else faint?"
"Nope. Not a soul." Ron was quick.
"Don't overthink it, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Dementors are dangerous dark creatures. Can't be killed, can't be destroyed. Normal spells don't work. Only the Patronus Charm can stop them."
"Patronus Charm?"
Harry heard that name again and pictured Professor Lewinter's handsome, mysterious face. He rubbed his forehead, already tired.
The school year hadn't even started, and it already felt like trouble was brewing.