63: Dementors

"Dementors! Can you believe it?" Isadora said to no one in particular. "Dementors! How can Albus allow this?" 

"I reckon they won't be permitted inside school grounds," Alaric said, leaning against Aunt Bathilda's cottage's front door frame, dressed in a simple black jumper with a white shirt underneath, beige trousers and dark brown shoes. His brown leather suitcase was tightly held in his hand as he spoke to his mother while waiting for his sister to come down. 

Isadora folded the newspaper she was reading and looked worriedly at Alaric. 

"They better," She said with a dangerous glimmer in her eyes. "Or else, I'll march down those damned gates myself," There was a pause, where Isadora seemed to think for a minute. "Did you have any sort of vision this summer?" she asked her son. 

"Nothing," He said. "Not even a gut feeling. So rest assured, nothing out of order should happen this year,"

Just as he ended, the sounds of creaking wooden boards reached their ears. Lysandra was coming down the stairs with her suitcase in hand, her expression filled with nervousness. When Alaric saw her attire, she understood why. 

Instead of the usual wizarding garments, she wore a red piece of clothing that Alaric remembered was a hoodie, a pair of muggle denim trousers, and oddly shaped white shoes. 

"Don't be shy, dear. You look pretty in those clothes," Isadora said with a smile and beckoned to her daughter. "Did you buy them at the fair?" 

"Yes," Lysandra nodded meekly, glancing at her brother. "Hope and Hermione helped me pick them,"

Alaric's gaze was inscrutable. He had much to say, but upon seeing the eagerness in Lysandra's eyes and recalling his conversation with his grandfather, he refrained from doing so.

"You don't look bad," He said instead. With one last goodbye to his mother, he walked outside. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Isadora groaned in frustration. But as if a candle had lit above her head, she turned to her daughter. 

"Be careful on the Hogsmeade weekends," She said sternly. "I don't want the two of you wandering too far from the village. Not with an escaped convict out there. He might try to use someone to gain access to Hogwarts," 

"Don't worry, we'll be careful," Lysandra smiled and kissed her mother's cheek. 

The morning sun shined brightly on the narrow streets of Godric's Hollow. The birds chirped, the breeze singed, and the streets of the almost all-wizarding village were filled with a Mallowsweet's scent. 

"Ready?" Alaric asked with an extended arm when he heard his sister approaching. He figured he would side-aparate with her, saving her the trouble of having to apparate, seeing as she wasn't as comfortable in it as him. 

"Oh, I'm going with Hope," Lysandra said sheepishly. "I promised it to her last week," 

"Oh," Alaric said, lowering his arm. 

"See you later," She waved goodbye. 

Lacking any proper expression, he watched Lysandra walk along the cobbled path and turn left on a corner. Even expert legilimens would have a hard time knowing what thoughts were running through the boy's mind. Finally, with a resounding *POP*, he disapparated.

__________

There was still an hour left for departure when Alaric apparated in a backstreet of King's Cross station, away from the eyes of those who could report him for underage magic, and apparition no less. 

After obliviating a wandering homeless man, Alaric marched to the station's doors, the platform entrance in mind. The Ministry of Magic workers blended almost perfectly in the sea of Muggles commuting to work, but a close look would be enough to distinguish them. Some had their clothes inside out, others had a noticeable lump on the side of their waists — their wands — but all of them had the same watchful expression in common, ready to wipe the memories of any suspecting muggle. 

Alaric strolled towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. With a knowing look at the undercover Obliviator near the pillar, he leaned casually against the barrier. In a moment, he had fallen sideways through the solid brick onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Smoothening his hair and straightening his clothes, Alaric strode over to one of the entries, passing by a crowd of journalists, definitely there to catch a look at the Potter family. He set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all had at least one person except the very last at the end of the train. 

He placed his suitcase above his head and sat down on the comfortable plush seats. He had so much on his mind that only when the train took its first turn, did he break out of his stupor. 

His friends had probably found a compartment in the middle of the train, but Alaric couldn't be bothered to go looking for it. He wanted to be alone to process his thoughts. 

That was until he heard a knock on the compartment's door. Alaric looked up, expecting it to be one of his friends, only to see a face he barely knew. It was a tall Hufflepuff boy, with dark hair and bright grey eyes, and a Perfect's badge in his robes. 

"Mind if I come in?" He asked, opening the door slightly. "The Prefect's compartment is packed," He said with a nervous chuckle. 

"Go ahead," Alaric said. 

The Hufflepuff student stowed his hefty luggage on the overhead racks and sat across from Alaric. 

"Cedric Diggory," He said, offering his hand for a handshake. 

"The Hufflepuff seeker?" Alaric arched an eyebrow as he shook his hand. 

"The one and only," Cedric said. "I thought you might recognize me. We've played against each other," 

"I don't pay much attention to the other players' faces when playing Quidditch," Alaric shrugged. "But I've heard of you," 

"And I of you. Alaric Grindelwald, the brightest student Hogwarts has had since Dumbledore's time!" He said theatrically.

"I seem to remember you having a moniker yourself," Alaric said, feigning confusion. "What was it again? The Charming Prince?" 

Cedric nearly choked on his saliva, and he erupted into a fit of violent coughing, all the while Alaric couldn't help but snort in amusement.

"That's just a name some mates gave me for some giggles," he stammered after a pause.

"Strange," Alaric said. "I seem to clearly remember overhearing some Ravenclaw girls talking about you with that exact name," 

"Surely you must've misheard," Cedric said. 

"Not really. I'm quite proud of my hearing," 

They spent the next few hours talking. At some point, the Honeydukes Express lady reached their compartment, and Alaric bought a sizable amount of snacks to eat. Cedric told him about their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, R. J. Lupin. Seeing the last two barely lasted a year, rumours were going around that the job was jinxed. 

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Alaric doubtfully. "As long as it's not another Lockhart, I don't mind who takes the job," Cedric nodded in agreement. 

They also talked about Hogsmeade. Third-years and above were allowed to leave the castle on certain chosen weekends, and they could spend their day exploring the only full wizarding settlement in Britain. Cedric suggested Alaric a few places, such as Honeydukes, the famous sweetshop. 

It had everything. Pepper Imps — they made smoke come out of one's mouth — great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and excellent sugar quills, which one can suck in class and just look like they're thinking what to write next, massive sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground, explosive bonbons and much more. 

Historically, Hogsmeade also was an extremely important place: the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack was considered the most haunted building in Britain. 

But for Alaric, what truly interested him was Zonko's joke shop. So many products to explore, and so many different ways to alleviate his stress from his constant studying and working. Still couldn't decipher the mystery book? Why not buy some Dungbombs and use them on Draco's clothes? Not progressing in his spell work? Why not buy some nose-biting teacups and give them to Filch? Such diverse possibilities. 

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Alaric and Cedric kept talking. 

"We must be nearly there," said Cedric, leaning to look out the now completely black window. 

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Strange," said Cedric again, trying to see outside. "I can't see the castle's lights... So why are we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Alaric, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. He saw some familiar heads, who waved excitedly at him. 

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"Lumos," Alaric quickly got his wand out. 

There was a squeaking sound, and Alaric saw the illuminated Cedric wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" He exclaimed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. 

Alaric became alert. He peered into the corridor again and muttered something. With a soft hum, a brighter Lumos shot out of his wand, illuminating the corridor as it went. But there was nothing. 

"I'm going to have a word with the driver—" 

"Shush," Alaric interrupted him, urging the Prefect to remain quiet. 

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering temperature filled the train, and at last, Alaric could see an outline. 

Standing by the entrance of the carriage, emanating the foulest of magic Alaric had ever seen, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. A Dementor, he instantly thought. Alaric's eyes darted at the figure, and without much thought, a silvery spell was already leaving the boy's wand. 

"Expecto Patronum," He said, channelling the memories of the day he met his grandfather. A silvery-white beast — a thestral — came flying from his wand. It flew across the corridor, and with a charge, crashed against the Dementor. The creature screeched loudly and swirled on its robes before fleeing from where it came from.

But Alaric's Patronus wasn't done yet. The boy flicked his wand, and the silvery thestral flew outside the carriage, emanating waves of power, chasing away the rest of the cloaked monsters that stalked the train. 

"What was that!?" Cedric asked, exhaling loudly. He had witnessed everything by sticking his head out of the compartment, much like the rest of the students. 

"A Dementor," Alaric explained. "The Azkaban guards. They were looking for Pettigrew, but had no business entering the carriage with us in it," He finished, disgust laced in his words. He hated the magic the beasts were made of. 

Alaric sat down again and leaned back, reaching for something in the pile of candy near him.

"Here," He said, giving Cedric a Chocolate Frog. "It will make you feel better," 

Cedric accepted it gratefully, but was too stunned to speak, especially after seeing the spell his younger schoolmate used. It seemed they didn't call him a genius for nothing. 

**********

A/N: I'll post the images below and on the auxiliary chapter. (Note: Remember that they're all starting their third year).

-Alaric

-Lysandra

-Hope

-Daphne

-Tracey

-Theodore

-Blaise

Fun fact! For Rowling, Dementors are the embodiment of the depression she went through. She once described it as "that cold absence of feeling—that really hollowed-out feeling. That's what Dementors are."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!