The Hogwarts Express hadn't been intercepted midway. No Dementors came, either. Under the current circumstances, Fudge, who was preoccupied with the rampant Fire Serpent Party's attacks on Merlin City, had no time to deal with the Azkaban escapee Sirius Black. His only concern now was retaining his position as Minister for Magic. There were growing voices calling for Dumbledore as the new Minister after those attacks. Others were whispering Earl Dark Dentis's name, but Fudge wasn't worried—after all, the Earl was insanely wealthy and probably uninterested in holding office; his attendants already outnumbered the entire British Wizarding World.
Although the Dementors hadn't appeared, Hermione certainly had.
When she had first boarded the train, she followed Ginny's advice and tried to connect with her dorm mates. But she quickly discovered that her aversion to silliness made her unsuited for their frivolous conversation. At least Harry and Ron had an unbreakable, life-or-death bond with her, which gave them a bit of credibility. Hermione believed Harry had sense—something the others lacked.
"Whoosh—" The compartment door slid open. Inside, Hermione saw Harry, Ron, Dana—an unfamiliar middle-aged man—and a dog. The space seemed overcrowded.
"Hermione, come on, we can squeeze in." Harry saw her hesitation and cut in.
Hermione was briefly touched—they were her best friends, after all. They got her. She squeezed onto the bench beside them, drawing an imaginary red cross over Ron's face in her mind. So Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together while Professor Lupin sat with Dana.
"This is…" Hermione began.
"Oh, let me introduce you—this is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Lupin," Harry said.
"And this is Hermione Granger," Hermione supplied. "One of the best students in our year."
"Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted Lupin politely. Then she sighed and sniffed at Dana resentfully.
"With Dana here, I'm barely 'one of' the best," she muttered.
Ron smiled smugly and chimed in: "Exactly. This year, for the Quidditch match, Dana's going to finish all his third-year coursework ahead of schedule. That's no small feat."
Hermione's eyes widened. Dana sensed the tremor in her pupils. He seemed amused. She plotted to ask him how.
"How long did you plan to take to complete your third-year coursework?"
"Half a month," Dana replied casually.
Hermione's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Half a month?!" she exclaimed.
The third year coursework had electives now—workload heavier than the second year. Dana, seemingly unfazed, shut his book. "The Earl's treated me well. I owe him. First, I'll at least bring his team a championship, right?"
"He's aiming for a championship…?" Ron's eyes nearly bulged. The Chudley Cannons winning had been his recurring dream.
Dana's voice was calm: "If I give it my all, it's attainable. In Quidditch, the Seeker can make all the difference. And I'm the best Seeker in the world."
Professor Lupin nodded approvingly. "Yes, for someone like the Earl, one can never repay him enough."
Hermione exhaled. Then she asked, "Dana, how many elective courses are you taking?"
"All of them," he replied casually.
Hermione squirmed. She'd applied to McGonagall for a Time-Turner just to keep up with her own twelve subjects grind. Dana not only enrolled in all electives but planned to finish the exams in half a month? Was he human?
If Hermione were sibling to that kind of success, she thought, maybe resorting to Imperius on Malfoy and then Azkaban wouldn't be so unreasonable.
Dana chuckled softly at her stunned face. "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing—I just thought of something funny," he replied cryptically, flipping open his book again as though he hadn't just dropped a bomb.
He continued: "I actually finished all the first-year courses—Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Potions, Defense, Astronomy, History—by early last year."
Hermione blinked. "First-year courses by early last year?"
Dana didn't miss a beat: "As for the electives this semester: Ancient Runes, I'm nearly fluent; Muggle Studies is rote memorization—I'll breeze through it; Care of Magical Creatures, I've studied the theory and interact well with beasts; Arithmancy, my mom taught me early; Divination—talent matters. Those naturally gifted don't study, and the rest never succeed."
Harry leaned forward. "Dana, do you really think you have Divination talent?"
Dana grinned: "Absolutely. My Divination talent is unusually strong."
Hermione cocked her head, eyebrow raised skeptically. "Is that so?" she challenged.
Hermione's voice shook ever-so-slightly: "Then… can you demonstrate that talent?"
Dana shrugged. "You really want me to?"
"Yes." Hermione drew in a deep breath. "Do it."
Dana closed his eyes. Silence fell. A few seconds later, he spoke confidently:
"Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, will appear at the door of this compartment in twenty seconds. It will meow three times, sit on the left side of the sliding door. When you open it, it'll bristle at my Seeker's Broomstick, then pounce to bite."
Everyone paused, jaws dropped. A cat traversing compartments unnoticed? Only Hermione seemed stunned—Dana had even named her cat.
Moments passed, then the sound of three distinct meows drifted in. Hermione shot a terrified look at Dana, then yanked open the door.
There, on the left side by the sliding door, sat Crookshanks, his tail wrapped around his paws. Hermione gasped, "Crookshanks!"
She reached for him as if to disprove Dana. The cat hissed—the hairs on its back bristled—directed toward Sirius Black, who was asleep at Harry's feet.
"Meow!!!" It dashed forward, claws extended, aiming for the man responsible for its mother's death.
"No!" Hermione cried. She lunged but Dana raised his wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he intoned. Crookshanks froze mid-stride. The cat's time literally stopped in place, body rigid.
Everyone in the compartment was suspended in the moment—time held taut by Dana's power.
Hermione stared at Dana, mouth agape—completely silenced.
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