"Hey, where'd this cat come from?"
Ron clutched Scabbers protectively, waving his arms in a panic. "Get away! Stay back!"
The orange tabby clearly had no intention of listening to Ron. It bared its teeth, inching closer step by step.
One of the quirks of Kneazles in the wizarding world: they can sense good from bad.
And in Crookshanks' eyes, Scabbers was definitely bad.
"Crookshanks, come back!"
Hermione hadn't expected her cat to act like this and quickly scolded it.
But Crookshanks just flicked its tail, continuing its slow advance toward Ron.
Didn't hear her?
No, it heard. The tail flick was both a response and a sign it found her annoying and nagging.
"Crookshanks, I said come back. I won't repeat myself."
This time, it was Dudley speaking. If Hermione couldn't get through, he'd take charge.
Crookshanks started to flick its tail again in defiance but froze, sensing a menacing presence behind it.
It turned to see Dudley staring it down.
"Meow…"
With a reluctant whimper, Crookshanks leaped back into Hermione's arms.
The little guy knew exactly who it could mess with and who it couldn't.
Though it retreated, Crookshanks' squashed face and yellow, slit-pupiled eyes stayed fixed on Ron—or more precisely, on the pocket where Scabbers was hiding.
Smart? Sure.
Disobedient? Big problem.
Time to tame it properly later.
Dudley grabbed Crookshanks by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up.
"That's a bad one!"
"Dangerous!"
"It'll hurt the owner!"
Crookshanks flailed its paws in the air, growling softly.
This was its Kneazle ability at work—sensing suspicious or untrustworthy characters, rooting out any threats to its owner.
"I know," Dudley said, placing it back in Hermione's arms and giving its head a pat. "I'll handle it."
With Dudley's assurance, Crookshanks reluctantly settled down.
Not bad in the loyalty department.
Ron wanted to give Crookshanks a piece of his mind, but it was Dudley and Hermione's pet. He swallowed his grievances, silently comforting Scabbers—a rat so old it had passed through who-knows-how-many hands, practically polished to a shine.
Poor Scabbers. Too bad your owner doesn't have the clout to stand up for you, Ron thought bitterly.
His little sulk was painfully obvious to Dudley. It might as well have been written on his face: I'm so wronged.
The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily north, but the scenery outside grew darker, the clouds overhead thickening into a heavy, oppressive blanket. The corridor outside their compartment buzzed with people moving back and forth.
"Something's off," Dudley said, glancing out the window, his expression growing serious. "Ron, we'll talk at school. Find a time."
It was about time to deal with that rat situation.
No need for extra trouble.
"Okay," Ron replied reflexively, then shivered.
He's not gonna beat me up, is he?
He shook his head, banishing the thought.
Dudley always convinces with reason.
As Ron suspected, Dudley never resorted to violence first. He'd reason things out, and only if that failed would he turn to… physics.
By now, the view outside was pitch black, not a speck of light, as if twilight had already fallen. Normally, the sky would look like this when they arrived at Hogwarts, but they were a full three hours early.
Rain started pelting the windows, fat droplets smacking against the glass with a sharp pitter-patter.
The train slowed, the sound of its wheels growing fainter.
Were they arriving?
No way!
Harry, closest to the compartment door, slid it open and stepped out to check the corridor. Other students were poking their heads out of their compartments, looking puzzled.
Clearly, many had sensed something was wrong.
Behind him, Hermione and Neville quietly drew their wands.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Hermione said.
Even Ron, slow as he could be, picked up on the odd atmosphere. He stopped fussing over Scabbers and pulled out his wand too.
A wizard's wand is their source of courage.
Crookshanks, no longer fixated on Ron's pocket, turned its gaze to the door.
Only Dudley remained calm, seated, his fingers brushing the ring on his hand.
The train jolted and came to a stop. From a distance came a series of bangs and clatters, startling enough that luggage tumbled from the overhead racks.
Curses from young wizards echoed in the corridor.
Suddenly, all the lights went out, plunging the entire train into darkness.
The world seemed to fall silent.
Seconds later, screams of panic erupted from the compartments, the train descending into chaos.
Darkness—one of humanity's primal fears.
Dudley's compartment was the calmest. Harry was the first to cast Lumos, the faint glow from his wand tip illuminating their surroundings.
Then they heard it—a sharp, screeching squeak from outside the window.
"Something's moving out there," Ron said, pointing to the vague, shadowy figures barely visible through the glass. "Are they getting off? Is the train broken? Are we stuck here?"
Neville followed his gaze, his face growing grim. "Or maybe they're getting on."
"What?" Ron froze, then caught on. "You mean someone's boarding here?!"
"Maybe not someone," Dudley added.
Ron clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a yelp.
"Not someone?"
Not human? Then what?
"Dudley, don't scare me like that!"
I'm Ron Weasley, afraid of nothing—except maybe ghosts. And spiders.
The temperature began to drop, a chilling presence creeping in from all sides. Their breath turned to visible mist, as if winter had arrived out of nowhere.
It was only early September, still swelteringly unbearable, yet it felt like the dead of winter.
Dudley swiftly took off his jacket, draping it over Hermione and quietly stepping in front of her.
"Something's coming," he said.
At his words, Harry and the others tensed, gripping their wands tighter.
No one doubted him. He was their Dudley.
The compartment door rattled, then slowly creaked open.
When it swung wide, they saw what had opened it.
It wasn't human. It was a cloaked, humanoid creature, tall enough to brush the ceiling, floating unsteadily in the air. Its face was completely hidden beneath a hood.
That must've been what Ron saw through the window.
A Dementor!
Azkaban's finest export!