People kept hurrying past the door of their compartment.
The young wizards chatted excitedly about Hogsmeade, occasionally glancing at the sleeping new professor.
That gave Sean the chance to quietly observe Lupin's current condition.
He still looked haggard, which was only natural. Before leaving, he had gone without sleep while interviewing new wizard shop managers.
But he was dressed much better now, though he still couldn't bear to part with those clothes covered in patches.
He had also brought that trunk with him. Sean knew his own Transfiguration couldn't have lasted that long, so Lupin must have maintained the magic himself.
Lupin always remembered every kindness shown to him.
Perhaps that was because he had received so little of it, just like a certain young wizard.
As the train rolled steadily onward, Sean gradually sank back into the sea of magical history.
Holding the unfinished Wizarding Chronicle of Magic in his hands, he sat almost motionless in his seat, only tapping it with a finger now and then to turn the pages automatically.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food trolley arrived outside their compartment.
"Do you think we ought to wake him up?"
Ron nodded toward Professor Lupin and asked uncertainly, "He looks like he ought to eat something."
Hermione carefully walked over to Professor Lupin.
"Um—Professor?" she said. "Sorry—Professor?"
He didn't move.
"You should come look—this is your—"
Hermione turned to Justin.
"He's exhausted, Hermione. He spent two days and one night straight picking a suitable new shop manager," Justin said helplessly.
"Don't worry, dear," said the trolley witch as she stepped inside and handed Justin a huge stack of cauldron cakes. "If he wakes up hungry, I'll be at the front with the driver."
"I suppose he's just asleep?" Ron said quietly after the witch slid the compartment door shut behind her. "I mean… he's not dead, is he?"
"He's still breathing," Hermione whispered, taking one of the cauldron cakes Justin handed her.
Professor Lupin might not have been much of a travel companion, but having him in their compartment was still useful.
Around three or four in the afternoon, rain began to fall, and the rolling hills outside the windows blurred into gray.
Just then, the young wizards heard footsteps in the corridor again, and a moment later three people they very much disliked appeared at the door.
Draco Malfoy, flanked on either side by his two cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Malfoy had a pale, pointed face that always seemed curled into a sneer, and he was in Slytherin.
He was Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and one of the young wizards in this compartment—Harry—played the same position for Gryffindor.
Of course, neither of them had ever beaten a certain Ravenclaw Seeker.
That was what people always said: if you happened to beat Ravenclaw by accident, then the furious Ravenclaws would simply bring out their real core player.
Wood had always felt powerless about that. He had never once seen this Ravenclaw actually train, so how was he supposed to beat him?
"Hey, look who it is," Malfoy drawled, sliding open the compartment door. "Snotter and Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle laughed in thick, troll-like voices.
"Wait—"
Malfoy suddenly raised a hand to stop them.
He shot a nervous look inside, the kind Harry had never seen on him before, and saw that the black-haired young wizard in the compartment was reading intently.
Hearing the noise, Sean frowned.
"Stop laughing," Malfoy muttered to his two followers.
Once Crabbe and Goyle saw who was inside, they obediently fell silent.
No wizard who had ever attended Dueling Club would underestimate a book-loving young wizard. And if one did, it only meant they had never been dropped in a single move before.
"I heard your father finally managed to get his hands on a bit of gold again this summer," Malfoy said in a lowered voice to Ron. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Even though Malfoy lost a lot of force by saying it so quietly, Ron still sprang to his feet so fast he knocked Crookshanks's basket onto the floor.
At that moment, Lupin gave a low grunt.
"Who's that?" said Malfoy, instinctively taking a step back when he saw Lupin.
"The new teacher," Harry said, standing up too in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying just now, Malfoy?"
Malfoy narrowed his gray eyes.
He wasn't stupid. He wasn't about to start trouble right under a teacher's nose.
Besides, he had only come to sneer.
As for actually starting a fight under a certain young wizard's gaze and interrupting his reading—there wasn't a single wizard in Hogwarts with that kind of nerve.
"Let's go."
He said it cheerfully to Crabbe and Goyle.
The three of them disappeared.
Harry and Ron sat back down, Ron rubbing his knuckles.
"This term, I am not putting up with Malfoy's rubbish anymore," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he dares insult my family again, I'll grab his head and—"
Ron made a violent gesture in the air.
"Ron, you're a wizard—" Hermione reminded him crossly.
"Oh!"
Ron suddenly looked as though something had clicked, and his eyes lit up.
How had he forgotten? In his second year at Hogwarts, it wasn't as if he'd spent every day fooling around!
"I've got eight nasty hexes, look—"
Ron said excitedly, only to receive another sharp glare from Hermione. She pointed at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sitting across from them.
He was awake.
"Hello. Sounds like things are lively in here."
Lupin rubbed his bloodshot eyes, his voice a little hoarse.
"Mr. Lupin," Hermione said.
"Hello, Miss Granger," Lupin said with a smile.
"How did you—"
Hermione jolted.
They had seen Lupin's trunk, yes, but how did Lupin know her name?
Lupin smiled and looked at the book lying open in front of Hermione. Her name was written right there on the first page, along with her year.
"Oh…"
Hermione flushed red.
"So, third-year students," Lupin said. "Then… do you happen to know a wizard named Green?"
"What do you want with him?" Ron asked, curious but wary.
"So he's famous at Hogwarts too."
Lupin smiled again, very pleasantly this time.
"As for the reason… does collecting my salary count? I've always wanted to meet him in person. In person… and collect it."
Hermione and Harry didn't quite believe that explanation, but Ron was thoroughly intrigued.
"He's right—"
As they spoke, the train continued racing north. The rain came down harder and harder, turning the windows into sheets of watery gray, and outside, it was gradually getting dark.
~~~
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