CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

WE SAT IN THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS as the train rushed past the passing landscapes like water through a waterfall—fierce, uncomprehending.

Ilvermorny was somewhere far behind us now, its familiarity lost to the winds. I knew in my heart somehow that I was never going to return there. The castle was just a stop, I had known it even before I had arrived there with the Beauxbatons' delegation for the Huntlock tournament. That castle had always just been a stop, a brief space of time in the journey I had made and was yet to make.

In all its strange dormancy, the castle had still changed me. Before having come to Ilvermorny, I was tortured and now leaving it, I felt less so. Before having come, I didn't know my great uncle, and now leaving it, I had his blood on my hands and his twisted legacy in my chest.

The entrance to platform 9 ¾ had been summoned by Albus Dumbledore in a way that the threshold lay beyond the crossing of one of the small peaks of the Greylock in Ilvermorny's periphery. Having to run headfirst into the stone of an ancient mountain peak had been unnerving, yet it had gotten us through to the train station where the Hogwarts express had lain in wait.

The station had been empty, and the headmaster of Hogwarts had let us know promptly that the train had just made a round from Hogwarts to take students home for winter break a day ago, which meant that the castle would stand empty to greet us with the exception of a few staff that had been asked to stay behind.

Beauxbatons followed a similar pattern, and Ilvermorny too for there were no classes to be held for the duration of the Huntlock tournament.

"The Irish," Viktor Krum spoke, shaking his head. "Don't get me started on those fuckers." 

"Well," Zubair Dimitrova shrugged nonchalantly. "They had their time to shine didn't they? It'll be our turn next." 

"We did get that snitch though," Krum ran a hand over his head. "I doubt they'll forget that." 

I turned away as the guys conversed about last year's Quidditch world cup. I didn't realize how long I had zoned out when Viktor addressed me. 

"You ever been to Hogsmeade, baby?" Viktor Krum spoke in my ear, though his tone was nothing reminiscent of a whisper. "I can show you around. Pretty cool village, Zubair and I made friends with some bartenders last time and that pays off sweet."

His hand gently squeezed my shoulder from behind me, as I rested my head on his muscled arm.

"Ain't that right Zubair?" The Durmstrang nodded towards his friend, who was sitting opposite to us in the train compartment, his own arm similarly around Bridgette's. Except, she had nodded off to sleep.

"Remember all those rounds on the house we got?" Krum grinned.

"Yeah," Dimitrova mused, a mirrored grin on his own face. "All we had to do was give them a show."

"So you performed?" I bit back a giggle as I glanced at Viktor. "Like circus monkeys, to get your pay?"

The Bulgarian seeker hesitated. "It wasn't like that, baby, we showed up and showed off. You know, like world famous Quidditch players?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Please, you're not that famous."

I knew what I was saying wasn't true, but it felt stupid to admit that when I did believe that Krum and Dimitrova could get themselves free stuff wherever they went if people were stupid enough to fall for their showy charms and popular status.

"Whatever you say," Viktor grinned in my ear, his breath hot against my earlobe.

A pair of footsteps approached our compartment and Elias Dupont's head popped in, peeking inside.

"So," He started, brows raised. "Are you all packing PDA in here or can I have a normal conversation with my friends?"

"Please, foursomes are so overrated Elias," Bridgette yawned as she fluttered awake, sitting upright and slowly rubbing at her eyes. "Come on in."

Shrugging his shoulders, Elias ventured inside as Bridgette scooted over to make space for him, with Dimitrova pursing his lips at being made to move.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, spotting the newspaper he held tight in his hands, black and white moving images flashing and jostling around beneath printed words.

"Just picked up this recent edition of The Daily Prophet," He spoke, taking a seat and flipping the pages, his lips twitching slightly at the format of the British newspaper as he struggled to find something he had wanted to show.

"There—look at this headline," He turned the paper around for me to see first.

"THE INFAMOUS DARK WIZARD GRINDELWALD FOUND DEAD IN NURMENGARD—BRUTALLY KILLED."

I swallowed, looking at the daunting English words in my vision. Beside me, Krum exhaled a slow breath. Brutally killed. It made me feel sick, as though I had done it for my own satisfaction, as though I hadn't done it because my great uncle had asked me. As though, I hadn't given Albus Dumbledore more time before Voldemort found out that he had The Elder Wand. There was no moving image underneath the words, just a paragraph printed in tiny font detailing the event. Of course, no reporter would go into Nurmengard just to snap a photograph—regardless of how compelling that particular photograph would be.

Elias showed the headline to Bridgette too, and I saw a slight quiver in her throat, as she glanced at me. Dimitrova looked at the paper over her shoulder and offered the barest shrug. He didn't know that I had done it, and neither did Elias, of course.

"Do they mean died, or killed killed?" Zubair raised a brow.

"Killed killed," Elias snapped at him, before glancing primarily at me and Bridgette again. "Don't you guys see? Someone broke into Nurmengard and finished him off."

"And my guess is, it was probably Voldemort," Dupont shrugged his shoulders. "No one else can break into a highly charmed prison facility like that. He probably wanted something from the old wizard—the secret ingredient to some sort of plan he's got going on, if you will."

"Et ce n'est même pas la chose la plus étrange," He added quickly, before flipping pages to find something again. "Here."

He held the newspaper in front me, another bold English headline pulsating in my vision.

"DEATH EATER TERROR CONTINUES—FIVE WIZARDS DEAD IN A RECENT RAID."

"Gosh," I exhaled. "They are really going wild here aren't they?"

"This means that Chevrolet was right," Elias pressed, showing the headline to Bridgette. "When he suggested that Voldemort had gripes with Britain first. If he were to attack, the rest of the world would likely suffer later."

"Also," He added, "Why the heck are we traveling to Britain with Headlines like these? Isn't it unsafe? Shouldn't Fontaine have waited, instead of just sending us off like this?"

"Look here," Bridgette flipped over the newspaper, showing us a page with multiple headlines, the boldest of them being the one bearing Hogwarts' name.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL INCREASES SECURITY."

Underneath that headline, the page was littered with smaller ones in the same bold font.

"GRINGOTTS ON LOCKDOWN: PROTECTIVE ENCHANTMENTS CAST."

"HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS CALLS FOR EMERGENCY MEETING WITH WORRIED PARENTS."

"STUDENTS TO BE SENT HOME FOR WINTER BREAK EARLY."

"So you see," Bridgette passed on the paper to Elias as his anxious dark brown eyes scanned the page. "Hogwarts has increased security. It's supposed to be safe, despite how many death eaters are prowling around in the country."

"That is why he's heading back in such a hurry," I murmured, before realizing I had spoken it out loud. "Albus Dumbledore, I mean. Didn't Fontaine say he had some work to take of?"

"The work being pissed off parents," Krum exhaled through his nose in amusement.

"It was probably the parents of these kids too," Zubair Dimitrova said, "Forcing Dumbledore to pull them out of the tournament and bring them all back."

I regarded silently how big the threat of Voldemort felt in Britain's grounds, and it was not just the headlines, it was the general fear that cascaded from them—the panic that the printed words were meant to emulate. 

Death eater terror continues, the headline repeated in my head. Harry Potter had talked of an initiation for that boy called Draco Malfoy. Perhaps that was part of Voldemort's plan, his attempts at recruiting and getting his number back to how they used to be before. He would no doubt hold such an initiation at his hiding place, but how big was it going to be? How vast?

I could only find out if I made the trip to that Manor, and if I extracted information out of whoever that could give it.

A scraping of wheels against the train floor sounded, and an elder lady pushing a trolley bustling with colorful food items and extra copies of the British newspaper, came along. She stopped at the door of our compartment, her big almond eyes large in expectation as she looked at us all.

"Oh, anything from the trolley dears?" She chirped, her eyes resting on Viktor and sparkling somewhat brighter against her round face.

I glanced at Viktor as he shifted in discomfort. I wanted to laugh suddenly, thinking of how he had just bragged about showing up and showing off, and now was getting increasingly uncomfortable in face of a lady's expecting stare.

Zubair Dimitrova and Bridgette started to ask for something and the lady reached down to fetch it for them, her task becoming increasingly difficult when her delighted eyes refused to leave the infamous Bulgarian national team's seeker.

I made to get up, a different agenda on my mind.

"Baby," Krum shifted again, brows knitting together. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," I spoke in lieu of a reply to his question, before sauntering off and barely managing to squeeze past the trolley lady on my way out of the compartment.

I walked slowly down the train hallway, keeping an eye out for Harry Potter's form amongst the students. Only a few compartments were occupied, with a dozen of them left vacated, and it was convenient somehow how everyone had vaguely made seating choices so that no conversation happening in a compartment could be heard by another.

I walked past empty compartments, before I spotted the figure of Harry Potter. He was sitting with that ginger haired boy who had accompanied him into our dorm, and a curly sable haired girl—all three of them having changed from their casual traveling attires into their Hogwarts robes.

The boys' laps were full of pieces of colored wrapping paper, and half eaten sweets, their tongues licking their lips as the girl gazed outside the glass window.

"Hi, Harry," I quipped, trying to bar myself against the rush of the awkwardness of interrupting—really nothing at all—like this.

The dark haired boy turned to look at me, eyes widening slightly in recognition.

"Do you know which compartment Draco Malfoy is in?"

I posed the question casually, hinting at the fact that the boy had not yet pointed this student out to me. In his defense, he hadn't had the chance to.

"Oh, yeah," Potter uttered, his mouth full of—something. "I reckon he's a bit further along. You'll see his blonde white hair from a distance."

The boy chuckled, trying to play it off in front of his friends. "He's the only one of us who has hair like that, I doubt you'll miss him. 

The ginger haired boy and the sable haired girl looked puzzled, both trying to decipher the sudden oddness of their friend, but I had gotten what I needed, so I didn't stick around. Chirping a thank you, I started walking past their compartment, hearing the girl mutter a distant, "What does she want with Malfoy all of a sudden?"

There was indifference in her tone, and I remembered it from back in Ilvermorny's Grand Hall, where she had risen to Harry Potter's defense against Chevrolet's proclamations—but perhaps her distaste was not reserved for Gabriel Chevrolet entirely. Perhaps she believed I could've done more than the small part I had done to stop him, or perhaps she assumed we were all like Chevrolet. Regardless, I didn't find myself thinking much of it—of her.

I strode past a couple more empty compartments, on the lookout for blonde white hair, until I swiftly found the student sporting it. The boy, his hair more platinum white than it was blonde white against the nonexistent contrast of his too pale skin, sat facing a dark skinned boy with equally dark hair. There was no one else in their compartment, and the boys didn't have any strewn sweet wrappers lying over their Hogwarts robes covered laps—unlike Harry Potter and his friend.

"Hi," I popped in, holding the compartment door frame with one hand, a smile pinned on my face, as the boys turned to me incredulously.

"Woah," Draco Malfoy muttered, quickly straightening himself and running a hand through his starch hair—a quick attempt at making himself presentable that I barely noticed.

The other boy—Blaise Zabini—as Potter had let me know on the balcony of my dorm at Ilvermorny, raised a brow, a sly smile playing on his lips as he exchanged a glance with Malfoy.

Determined to maintain a friendly composure, with the target of only getting close enough to the boy for informational reasons, I advanced forwards and boldly gestured to the spot on the seat beside the starch haired boy.

"Do you mind if I sit?" I started innocently, "Il fait beaucoup trop chaud là-bas, and besides I find myself in need of stimulating company."

Recognizing the confusion on the boys' faces change into pride, I realized I had spoken half of my sentence in French, an unknowing mistake that aided me in knowing that these boys had none of it. A fact I could always use later.

Draco Malfoy quickly scooted, nodding his head and swallowing at the same time as though something he had been chewing something that had suddenly gotten trapped in his throat, but I knew he hadn't been eating anything at all.

"I'm Dominique Lavigne," I articulated brightly, slowly seating myself beside the Malfoy boy, making a show of gazing between both the Hogwarts fourth years.

"Seventh year, Beauxbatons," I gestured vaguely with my hand. "But of course, you could tell the latter considering my uniform." I uttered a nervous laugh and it sounded strange to my own years.

"No," Malfoy blurted, before elaborately swallowing as his flitty light blue eyes met mine. "I mean—we know who you are. It's just—"

"Why would you want to—," Blaise Zabini added before halting anxiously, neither of them any good at finishing each other's sentences.

"Well, to be truthful," I started, cupping my joined knees and letting a soft shrug play out on my shoulders. "I've never really been to Hogwarts before. I wasn't part of the Beauxbatons delegation that was there for the Triwizard, months ago."

"So," I continued, a hopeful tinge in my tone. "I was looking to make friends who know Hogwarts, and might want to show me around sometime?"

Draco Malfoy jolted at the chance, shifting abruptly in his seat. "Of course, we'll—I'll—be happy to show you around anytime."

I blinked, disguising my indifference at his proposal with obliviousness. "Why, wouldn't your friend here—"

"No," Malfoy blurted again, it seemed as though he only talked in blurts—random thoughts pressing up against his mind and immediately voicing themselves.

"Blaise has stuff to do," The boy swallowed, nodding his head at his friend who looked chastened. "Assignments and other things he hasn't handed in yet."

"Blaise," I spoke his name, brightening the smile on my face as I turned to the dark haired boy. "It is nice to meet you."

I extended my hand for him to shake, and the boy did just that. A clammy hand in mine that I instantly let go of after one designated shake.

"I'm Draco," The starch haired boy to my side quickly uttered, feeling himself left behind. "Draco Malfoy."

"Draco," I smiled, retrieving my hand and deciding against offering it again, only to spare myself the feeling of sweaty fourth year palms. "It is nice to meet you too."

The platinum haired student's smile twitched, and I could tell he had been expecting my hand. For a moment, I feared I had given up my ruse, for I could sense how particular this boy was—how abrupt in his wants and firm in his expectations. He reminded me slightly of Krum, but then again, the Durmstrang had never really been anxious in my presence. Viktor Krum's style was more flitting frustration, then it was anxiety.

"Tell me what the castle is like?" I started, desperate to not give myself away. "And the village near the castle? Hogsmeade. I've heard Hogwarts students are privy to field trips there."

Draco Malfoy puffed out his chest as much as he could manage, making himself appear straighter and firmer before he answered.

"It's big, I'm willing to bet though that you wouldn't find it much to your taste. It's nothing like Beauxbatons or even Ilvermorny. The upkeep of the castle isn't up to the mark too, but it's doable I guess."

Wow, I thought to myself. I haven't ever heard a student maintain this level of enthusiasm for their school in front of foreign students. At Beauxbatons you bitched about the school and the professors amongst each other, but when it came to talking of it to outsiders, the words that left our mouths were only ever positive. It was a simple rule, if you felt like you were being put to hell, you did not admit it out loud to anyone who looked like they weren't. Otherwise, you seemed weak—an easy target to be aimed for and to be pitied. Nobody wants to come off like that.

Beauxbatons had been hell for me at most points in my life. Out of the seven years I had spent there, I could count off the petals of a handful of daisies thinking about every time I had gone to bed angry and full of hate towards someone or something in that castle. But at the same time, Beauxbatons had some of the only people I knew—it was the only home that had truly sheltered me. 

"My father always says that it's Dumbledore," Draco Malfoy continued. "Father says he's old and if the castle wasn't under him, it would flourish. He says that it could flourish. But Dumbledore's too old really to even use his head to think that he's not needed there anymore."

Albus Dumbledore, if the headlines in The Daily Prophet were any indication, was doing the maximum to protect his students in face of the looming threat. Regardless of him using Potter and the boy's visions, Dumbledore was the thread keeping the wizarding world from falling apart. I realized with a jolt suddenly that if he had made his belief of Voldemort's return public, the scale of chaos and public fear that would ensue would've been catastrophic. So indeed, despite my criticism of that fact, and despite Draco Malfoy's current words, it was clear that Albus Dumbledore did make use of his head frequently.

But presently, I kept that thought to myself.

"As for Hogsmeade," The platinum haired boy continued, "It's fine, I guess, if you're into cheap thrills and shop owners who can't seem to do their jobs properly."

I thought of how Viktor Krum had asked to show me around the village, and how he had bragged about having performed tricks to make friends. I bit back a giggle and found myself blushing. Stepping out of my reverie, I saw the two pairs of eyes fixed on me in some strange fascination, and quickly, I cleared my throat.

"Really?" I sounded disappointed. "Well, I was hoping to take walks there at night, and maybe try a few drinks. If it's not worth it then I think I should probably stick to the castle grounds."

Draco Malfoy hesitated, "No—well, it's great for walks and drinks though. I could accompany you sometime, show you the best routes to take without people disturbing."

I brightened. "That sounds lovely. I would love to hangout with you."

"Though," I added, making a show of being a little doubtful. "Wouldn't your girlfriend mind?"

The starch haired boy blushed scarlet, the color stark against his pale white skin. He reached a hand to tug on the collar of his robe.

"No, actually," He stumbled on his words, "I don't have one—a girlfriend I mean."

The dark haired boy in the compartment with us stirred. "Hey, what about Pansy?"

I blinked, brows furrowing as I looked at Malfoy, the boy shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

"She's uh, Blaise's girlfriend."

The dark haired boy received a look from his friend and was chastened yet again, as he shrunk back in his seat. I felt indifference course through me at his blatant refusal of having a girlfriend, I couldn't imagine how I would feel was Viktor to pretend I suddenly didn't exist. When I tried to imagine it, I was barely there in the aftermath of it.

Viktor Krum had grabbed onto the reins of my life and the little spark of happiness I could live, and if he suddenly let go, I would fall headfirst and I didn't think I would be able to get back up again.

"Dominique?" The guy in my head's voice sounded loud and clear in my periphery, and I looked up startled to find his tall muscular form at the compartment door, a dubious look in his brows as his eyes found mine.

"Viktor," I let out with a smile, composing myself and standing up.

"What are you doing here?" He paid no heed to my bright tone, as he made Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy the subjects of his scrutiny.

"Nothing much," I replied, "I was just speaking to my new friends. Draco here is going to show me around once we arrive. He also knows all the good routes in Hogsmeade, and will be accompanying me."

"What?" Viktor Krum's face contorted, my words triggering the threads of his fury.

I tensed, realizing I had been going more than a mile per second. In an attempt to save the situation, I turned around to look at the two fourth years, and offered them a smile.

"I'll see you guys around," I spoke, and with that I walked out past the Durmstrang's form, finding myself quickly walking down the train hallway as he followed behind, until we were a good distance away from the Malfoy's compartment.

Viktor grabbed my elbow and pulled me to him, fury still warm on his face.

"What was that?" He let out, ebony eyes bearing into mine. "You set up some sort of dates with that boy?"

"They are not dates, per say," I managed, my mind slowly grasping at explanations.

I couldn't tell him that I was only seeking to get close to that boy because I wanted inside knowledge on Voldemort's hiding place. If luck was on my side, I could get more out of the boy too, in regards to the initiation and when or if the wizard found out that Dumbledore had The Elder Wand. Telling the latter to Krum was fine with me, but I couldn't let him know about the Malfoy Manor. I wanted nobody to know that. If I was to go to the Malfoy Manor, it would be in secret, with no one's life but my own on the line.

"He'll just be showing me around," I shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Baby," Krum ground his teeth, his jaw tightening. "Didn't I say that I will show you around? In Hogsmeade too?"

"I know," I frowned slightly. "But please understand. I have to make Draco Malfoy think we're friends."

"Why?" The Durmstrang scoffed.

"Because," I started, raising my hands and intertwining them behind his neck.  I felt pressed to share at least some of it with him. How could it have been so easy for me to keep him in the dark in the past? Why was it so hard now?

"I have a feeling his family is close to death eaters, or may be death eaters too. I just want to be informed. If the boy speaks, I'll know how close Voldemort is to finding out that the wand is at Hogwarts."

Nothing about the Malfoy Manor, or how it was in my intentions to pay it a little visit to see the infamous Voldemort hiding out in his nest—warming up the eggs of his ruthless plans. 

"And what made you have such suspicions about this Malfoy?"

"Harry Potter voiced his doubts," I shrugged. "I would be a fool not to at least consider and take my chance."

"Fine," Viktor fumed, agitated as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. "But that boy seems to think you've settled on a series of dates."

"Let him think that," I sighed. "He's just a boy, and I need him to be thorough with me when he opens up."

"So, what?" Krum hissed, dropping his face close to mine. "I'm supposed to just watch him whisk you away?"

"No, silly," I giggled. "You can come along. Just, make sure you're in the shadows."

I leaned in close and touched our foreheads, brushing my lips against his as a wave of electricity shot down to my core.

"So that he doesn't see you," I whispered, my eyes half closed.

"I'll be there," Viktor Krum muttered gruffly, his breath hot on my face. "Though I'll be hiding out only once. Every other time you want to go gallivanting with that Hogwarts fourth year for your ruse, you'll be going with me. I won't stand watching my girlfriend with someone else."

Cornish pixies fluttered in my belly at the word.

"Is that what I am to you now?" I whisper-asked, my palm cupping the back of his shaved head.

"Fuck," He groaned, as I brushed my lips against his again. "Yes, you fucking are."

Then he slammed his lips on mine and swallowed my gasp, pressing me firmly against his body as our lips parted to let our tongues dance in ecstasy. He tasted of his usual musk, and rain along with a recent hint of smoke—as though he had sneaked in a few puffs before boarding the train and hadn't had anything to wash it down with since. 

I broke away to breathe as he clamped his lips on my jaw, breathing heavily against my skin. His thick hand dropped down to grip my butt as his other tightened on my waist. 

"Viktor," I breathed, biting my lip, "We're not in—someone will see." 

"Let them," He husked, his voice muffled with his lips pressed against the skin at the nape of my neck. 

I glanced sideways anxiously, only to find no one was out of their compartments roaming around. Still, I doubted that would last a while. 

"After we arrive," Krum spoke, his voice still muffled as he continued his attentions on me. "Dumbledore fixed us a schedule, we're going to be taking classes. Continuing our academics." 

"What?" I let out, brows furrowing as he successfully distracted me from the pleasure. 

"Yeah," The Durmstrang raised his face to meet mine. "Apparently Fontaine insisted, and so did Karkaroff and Madame Maxime." 

"They are stupid if they think I'll be taking those classes," My tone was firm, anger ebbing away at me. "They can't just ship me off to wherever they like and have me study aside everything they throw at me." 

"Baby," He looked at me, "It doesn't matter alright? We just found out, that was why I was looking for you to tell you. This doesn't matter in face of what we have to do. It will all go to dust anyway if you don't get that wand from Dumbledore before that fucker does."

I nodded slowly, exhaling a breath.

"But first, you need to see to Gregorovitch. Wherever he is, I'm coming with you." 

I remembered the wandmaker again, startled at myself knowing how easy it was to forget he existed amidst everything else.  I hadn't had a chance to escape—to summon Angus with the old wizard from their hiding place. Once at Hogwarts, I would find the opportunity, it would be easy enough to grasp it. 

I nodded again, closing my eyes as Viktor pressed his forehead against mine, his thick warm hands rubbing my body—stroking my curves.

Suddenly, a loud ear piercing screech sounded and the train jolted, throwing us off our feet as Viktor stumbled, quickly grinding his feet to maintain his balance as he supported my form with his arm clasped around my waist. 

The train shuddered and halted to a stop, as my anxious eyes met Viktor's, 

"What the fuck?" He let out, facial features contorted in confusion and a semblance of his frustration. 

A chill swallowed the warm air around us, as though the train heaters had suddenly broken down and started seeping in the cold snowy air from outside—as though some one reckless had left a window open somewhere and nobody would be able to track it down fast enough to close it. I felt my skin prickle from the effect of it, and I knew then that it wasn't just cold air. Something had happened, and it had made the Hogwarts express stop before it reached its destination. 

Confused chatter erupted from the compartments as students slid doors open stepped into the train hallway, glancing at anyone available with inquisitive eyes for answers to questions they all had. The chaos was startling, where it had been quiet and semi peaceful as students had waited to get the journey over with, they were now anxious and confused. 

"Students please," A loud voice burst into my periphery, and I saw the tall form of Albus Dumbledore standing at a further end, his hands raised into the air as his half closed eyes inspected the disruption of the students. 

"You are all requested to go back to your compartments and seat yourself," The headmaster of Hogwarts announced, his tone undecipherable. "The express will be subject to an inspection, but we shall be on our way soon enough." 

He said nothing more, and students turned back to where they had crowded in from, muttering and whispering to each other under their breaths. Albus Dumbledore stood there, his snow white beard seeming so big, it almost touched the ground if I focused on it hard enough. As the students all cleared, his small eyes under his half moon spectacles, fell on me and a strange expression coursed through his face. 

I remembered the first and last time I had spoken to him, it had been about Dementors, and he had assumed they made me terrified.

Before I knew what I was doing, my feet were taking me near the headmaster, and I heard Viktor Krum whisper my name in confusion before starting to follow me, his heavy footsteps thudding behind me when I halted to face the Hogwarts headmaster. 

"Dementors," I let out, meeting his vague eyes head on. "I'm assuming they are the inspectors?" 

"Yes," The old wizard barely nodded his head, his expression intense in his scrutiny of me—though the result of his attempts was not obvious on his face. 

"They are going to be looking for death eaters on a school train?" 

"Yes," The headmaster spoke again, making no attempt to acknowledge the taunt in my tone. 

I scoffed, the stupidity of the British ministry of magic dawning on me once again. Instead of searching near the attacked areas, and looking for authentic potential hideouts, they had their life sucking corpses search a school train. But then again, there was a potential death eater on this school train, except he hadn't yet become one with blood on his hands. 

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble with them, as I recall you finding them intriguing more than anything, Miss Lavigne." 

I kept my face straight, holding my annoyance back. Albus Dumbledore was nothing like Aurelius Dumbledore. The efficient, cunning, Aurelius Dumbledore was nothing like his uncle. I wondered suddenly how the headmaster would react if I were to tell him that I had had a quite interesting journey with his nephew, and that I could tighten the hold of Obscurus on the man's twenty six year old body like it was nothing. 

Albus Dumbledore thought much of himself, you could tell. The powerful wizard effectively hid his dark past and assumed that he was better for it. How both he and his brother had abandoned the former Barebone, only attempting to have him back when my great uncle had taken the boy under his wing. They had drawn him back, and he had betrayed my great uncle for it. 

I suddenly wanted him to know that I could turn it all into ashes, one moment their precious Aurelius would be there, and one moment he wouldn't. 

"I do, professor," I managed, pinning a smile on my face. "Though I suspect all the younger students on the train wouldn't quite share my sentiments. It's a pity the ministry has so little resources to resort to, especially one as unreliable as the dementors." 

The wizard raised a thin brow, wrinkles appearing on his forehead. "Unreliable they may be, Miss Lavigne, but they do the job." 

"Yes," I nodded my head, confirming a predicament. "I imagined this would be the mentality behind their decisions." 

The headmaster didn't respond, though his lips had parted to. Perhaps he didn't know what to add to that. 

"Dominique," Viktor Krum spoke from behind me. "We'd best get to our seats." 

He nodded at the professor. "Headmaster Dumbledore." 

"Master Krum, Miss Lavigne." The old wizard nodded in our directions, before turning on his feet and walking away. 

"Mon dieu, he's so infuriating," I turned to Viktor, as he pursed his lips. "Cover me, Viktor." 

The Durmstrang raised a brow but did as I said, hiding my form with his bulky physique as I pressed my back to the glass door of an empty compartment, quickly casting a rune to deeply hide the scent and detection of my magic. I had done it before boarding the train, but I needed to make sure. If these were indeed Dementors, I couldn't be too sure. 

"Its as if he always knows something that we don't," Viktor exhaled, his eyes dropping to my glowing hand as its light softly faded away. 

"But in reality he's just utterly clueless," I muttered, fixing myself as we headed on past the empty compartments and back to our own. 

The chill in the air suddenly intensified as we walked, and Krum felt it too, as he shifted on his feet. 

We neared the compartment Harry Potter was occupying with his friends, and suddenly, I saw the unmistakable form of the dark misty corpse in the farther end of the hallway. The dementors were inside. My heart hammered against my chest as I felt my eyes meet the thing's in a cold dead stare. 

Viktor gripped my elbow from behind, muttering a panicked, "Shit," before he whipped out his wand, pulling me back. 

But Krum's back was no safer, for another dementor floated at the far end at the other side too, dark holes for eyes in its mist form staring right at me. 

"Do you think they sensed it?" Viktor hastened, wand pulled out high. "Your magic? You shouldn't have done it right now." 

"No," I uttered, swallowing. "It isn't that. Their gluttony is stronger than their discipline." 

"What?" Krum breathed, "That makes no fucking sense—why would they want to—" 

"It's my past, Viktor," I let out, taking out my own wand. "They think they can fucking feed on it." 

A startling recognition hit me then, and I gasped. "Harry." 

I jolted past the Durmstrang and approached the compartment Harry Potter was seated in, and saw the dark form of a dementor hovering over the three students inside. Their terrified voices were muffled, demure flashes of light sparking out from the tips of their wand—fruitless attempts to ward the dementor away. 

I yanked the sliding door to their compartment open, my wand held high, the patronus charm on my lips. 

"Expecto patronum." 

In a startling flash of silver light, my patronus was born as it cascaded from the tip of my wand, covering everything in a sparking silver white light as its form expanded larger second by second. The dementor in the compartment gave a shrill scream so distant that it could be debated whether it was heard or not. It vanished then.

The dragon, with its silver scaled body, the silver fire spilling out from its mouth, turned its wrath towards the dementors in the hallway as they closed in on Viktor Krum's periphery. 

The Durmstrang's patronus was already out, a bear spilling out in translucent blue light as it circled with the dragon, the light expanding a fold more as the dementors in the hallway jolted backwards, crashing into mists as they disappeared. 

Viktor ran up to my side, his arm snaking around my waist as his eyes scrutinized me, before glancing at the three bewildered students in the compartment. 

"Is everyone alright?" He asked briskly. 

"Yeah," The ginger haired boy—Ron—answered, his eyes wide as he gaped at Viktor in awe. 

I looked at Harry Potter, and he nodded, swallowing anxiously. I could tell then that he had had such an encounter before. The look on his face was that of thrown off surprise, as though he had vowed to himself that he would be prepared the next time, and the next time had crept up on him spontaneously. 

I looked at Viktor, and he had recognized Potter's expression as well. I wondered then how long it would take Voldemort. I wondered then how much time was actually left. If Harry Potter had been grappling with the return of the dark wizard for longer than anybody else has, it was for him that time was catching up. For the rest of us, we just needed to keep him close to tell us exactly when the hourglass ran out. 

***

A/N: 
Almost at Hogwarts! <3 Also, I'm going to start working on a playlist for this book. I do have one already because I write listening to it, but I just need to arrange the songs in order of how they'd fit the vibe of the story. I'll attach the spotify playlist scan code in the preface when I'm done.