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HRHL# CHAPTER 221
🕑 Added 2025-06-23 21:57:47 +0000 UTC“So, you’ve all finished your homework?” Harry said, chewing on a Chocolate Frog, one of its legs still twitching helplessly near his mouth.
At Harry’s words, the small piece of Cauldron Cake in Ron’s hand slipped and fell to the floor with a splat.
“Merlin’s beard, I haven’t done my Potions essay!” Ron groaned, clutching his head. He bent down, picked up the Cauldron Cake, blew on it, and popped it back into his mouth. “Snape’s going to murder me!”
“Not quite that dramatic,” Hermione said, frowning. “Why don’t you start on it now? We’re still on the train, and it’s just Potions homework. Can you calm down, please?”
“Yeah, and the Underworld’s just a sauna,” Ron shot back, rolling his eyes sarcastically.
Hermione glared at him fiercely.
Ron puffed out his cheeks, stood up, pulled out parchment and quill, and swapped seats with Hermione. He began scribbling his Potions essay on the table.
From time to time, he muttered questions to Harry and Hermione, asking for advice on how to write the essay.
The compartment fell quiet, save for the rhythmic clatter of the train.
Ron worked diligently on his Potions homework, but the train began to slow. Gradually, the sound of the wheels faded, while the noise of wind and rain outside grew louder.
Harry, closest to the door, stood to check the corridor.
In the neighboring compartments, heads poked out, bobbing up and down like sprouting mushrooms.
Suddenly, the train lurched and stopped. From a distance came the sound of thumps and clatters, likely luggage falling from the racks.
Then, all the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.
“What’s going on?” Ron’s voice came from behind Harry. “I’m only halfway through my essay! Merlin, if I don’t finish, Snape’ll toss me into a cauldron and brew me into a potion!”
“Ow! Watch it!” Hermione gasped. “Ron, that was my foot! You stepped on my foot!”
At the same time, a dull thud echoed in the compartment.
Harry recognized the sound—Hermione’s fist connecting with Ron’s back. It sounded like a solid hit.
He drew his wand and cast, “Lumos,” illuminating the compartment before returning to his seat.
“Is the train broken?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know, but I doubt it’s anything good,” Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly. “I remember reading about historical events—assassinations of important people often happened on trains. I have a bad feeling this might be…”
“You think there’s some big shot on this train?” Harry said with a chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “Relax, it’s probably just a mechanical issue, and we’ve stopped temporarily.”
Ron, using the light from Harry’s wand, breathed on the window and wiped it clean with his sleeve.
“Look, there’s someone outside,” Ron said to Harry and Hermione. “Look closely—aren’t those figures floating in the sky?”
“Floating in the sky? You’ve gone mad from writing that essay,” Hermione said, frowning. “What, you think they’re ghosts?”
Before she could finish, Professor Lupin stirred awake.
He peered at Harry in the wandlight, recognizing him.
“Stay where you are, Harry,” Lupin said to the group. “Something’s out there… something unwelcome. I know what it is.”
“What is it?” Ron asked curiously. “Professor, you know what they are?”
“Dementors,” Lupin said gravely. “Stay here and don’t move. I’m going to the front to find the conductor and see what’s happening.”
With that, he stood, flames igniting around both his arms, and left the compartment.
“Blimey, he’s got some skills,” Ron said, staring after Lupin’s retreating figure. “Did you see those burning arms? He must be brilliant at close combat…”
“Pretty cool,” Harry agreed, nodding. Something about Lupin’s face felt familiar, though he couldn’t place it.
The compartment shook again, and a chill crept in, as if something had boarded the train. The temperature plummeted.
“It’s only late August—why’s it so cold?” Ron said, his teeth chattering. “Merlin, it feels like winter…”
Before he could finish, a terrified scream pierced the air.
Then, the compartment door slowly creaked open.
In the glow of Harry’s wand, they saw what had opened it.
A cloaked figure, tall enough to brush the ceiling, stood before them. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, and a single hand emerged from the cloak—gray, gaunt, and scabbed, glistening faintly as though it belonged to something long dead and rotted in water.
The hand was visible for barely a second before the creature seemed to sense their stares and retracted it into the folds of its black cloak.
Then, whatever was beneath the hood inhaled—a long, slow, shuddering breath, as if trying to draw something more than air from the compartment.
It was a Dementor, feeding on the happiness within.
“Ugh…” Ron and Hermione let out involuntary groans, feeling their joy siphoned away.
Harry sensed its malice. Whatever it was doing, he couldn’t let it continue.
A burst of azure flames erupted around Harry’s body. The Dementor noticed the fire and recoiled as if facing something terrifying.
But Harry wasn’t about to let it escape. The azure flames surged outward, and from an outside perspective, it looked as though the compartment had exploded. The fire engulfed the Dementor, reducing it to ash.
The flames didn’t stop. As if alive, they swept through the compartment in all directions.
Other Dementors in the train noticed the disturbance and fled, trying to escape the azure blaze.
Those farther away escaped quickly, avoiding the fire’s wrath. But two nearby Dementors weren’t so lucky. In the gaze of their retreating kin, they were consumed, leaving only wisps of ash.
Harry stepped out of the compartment, casually tossing a ball of azure Gubraithian Fire in his hand, tinged with flecks of black flame that seemed to devour the surrounding light.
Gubraithian Fire—a rare, eternal flame, notoriously difficult to control, rivaling Fiendfyre in power and capable of harming Dementors.
The remaining Dementors watched from a distance, wary of the composite flames in Harry’s hand, showing no inclination to challenge him.
Harry took a step forward.
The Dementors retreated further. Anyone familiar with them would be shocked to see fear itself cower.
The train remained still, surrounded by Dementors who showed no sign of leaving.
But soon, they scattered, and the train lurched back into motion.
Harry extinguished the flames and returned to the compartment.
“That was wicked, Harry,” Ron said, giving a thumbs-up, though his face was pale. “But why do I feel like I’ll never be happy again?”
“That’s the Dementors, Ron,” Harry explained. “They’re Azkaban’s guards, like embodiments of fear. Remember how they were sucking in earlier? That’s them feeding on our emotions. They drain light and warmth, plunging you into darkness and cold. Courage and hope fade, replaced by fear and emptiness.” He shook his head. “If you’re not saved in time, they’ll take your soul.”
“Most spells can’t repel them,” Harry added. “Only the Patronus Charm can drive them off.”
“What spell did you use, then?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed. “It destroyed them. Merlin…”
“Just a little trick,” Harry said with a grin. “Gubraithian Fire, mixed with some Fiendfyre. They keep Dementors in check.”
“I don’t think they were kept in check—I think they’re dead,” Ron quipped, then rushed on. “Can we learn that spell? It’s so cool!”
“Not yet, Ron,” Harry said. “Fiendfyre’s Dark Magic. It takes incredible control to wield it. If you lose control, it burns everything in sight. It’s terrifying.”
“Guess we’ll wait a few years then,” Ron said eagerly. “We could start with the Patronus Charm instead.”
“Actually, I haven’t learned it either,” Harry admitted. “I haven’t had the chance.”
“You? Not knowing a spell?” Hermione exclaimed, as if she’d discovered a new continent. “I finally found a charm you don’t know!”
Just then, Lupin returned.
“Are you all alright?” he asked, concern in his voice. “The Dementors were searching for Sirius Black, but the Ministry must be mad to let them board a school train. Don’t they realize the danger to you children?”
Lupin’s tone carried a hint of indignation.
“I doubt any of us are hiding Black under our robes,” Hermione said dryly. “Good thing they’re gone now.”
Neither she nor Ron mentioned Harry’s role in driving off the Dementors. After all, Fiendfyre was advanced Dark Magic, and they didn’t want Harry to make a bad impression on the new professor.
Noticing Ron shivering, Lupin pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket and handed it to him. “Eat this. It’ll help.”
He gave pieces to Hermione and Harry as well.
The three thanked him, and Ron took a bite. To his surprise, warmth spread to his fingertips and toes.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Lupin said with a smile. “We should reach Hogwarts in about ten minutes. I need to speak with Dumbledore about this—Dementors searching the train.”
“Please don’t forget, Professor,” Hermione said, still indignant. “Merlin, it’s so dangerous. What if they’d taken someone’s soul?”
Ron, chewing his chocolate, said, “They wouldn’t dare. Dumbledore would tear Azkaban apart.”
Soon, Neville and Seamus, now in their school uniforms, joined the compartment. After greeting Lupin, they launched into a heated discussion about Dementors, even asking Harry if this year’s Dueling Club would cover how to fend them off.
Lupin glanced at Harry, surprised. He hadn’t expected Harry to run such a club at school.
But he wasn’t entirely shocked—after all, Harry’s father, James, had never been one to sit still. Lupin and James had been close friends and dormmates.
Finally, the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station.
Lupin left first to speak with Dumbledore.
Harry and his friends struggled through the crowd, stepping onto the platform.
The rain had stopped, but a lingering chill hung in the air.
Hagrid, as usual, was tasked with leading the first-years, but he spotted Harry’s group and waved over the sea of heads.
“You lot alright?” Hagrid bellowed.
They waved back but couldn’t stop to talk, as the crowd pushed them along the platform.
As always, Thestral-drawn carriages waited outside.
Ron and Hermione couldn’t see the Thestrals, never having witnessed death. But Harry could—he’d seen it more than once.
They climbed into a carriage and shut the door. It set off, rattling along.
The carriage smelled faintly of mold and straw, as if it hadn’t been cleaned in ages.
“Look, Harry,” Ron said suddenly, pointing out the window. “Are those Dementors out there? Look at the sky, right there!”
Harry followed Ron’s gaze and saw Dementors circling in the distance.
“Why aren’t they at Azkaban?” Hermione asked, puzzled. “Aren’t they supposed to be guarding the prison?”
Harry shrugged. “No idea. Maybe they think Black’s coming here?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Harry,” Hermione said, worried. “I have a feeling they’re after you. You destroyed some of them on the train. They’re probably the most vengeful creatures out there… Be careful, Harry.”
As if they’d heard her, the distant Dementors turned, fixing their gaze on Harry’s carriage.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
