Allow Me to Exaggerate A Memory or Two :: Chapter One (1/8)
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight
CHAPTER ONE
yan had never really got Diagon Alley. Most shops didn't interest him at all, and those that did had never lived up to the standards set by Holyhead's magic tuck-away streets. Diagon Alley's Apothecary was an exception, awing him every time, but Flourish&Blotts, for example, was not as nice as the much cosier Paul's Pre-Loved Books, a second-hand bookshop back home in Tripping Lane. Also, the manager at Flourish&Blotts did not have Paul Chitterling's indulgence towards his customers, and tended to start coughing and hinting about payment before you'd even got halfway into the first chapter of a book. It was extremely annoying, and of course made it just about impossible to evaluate if the book was likely to be any good.
It was like he expected you to buy your books judging by the jacket.
Seeing Diagon Alley with Brendon was, however, a new experience. Everything seemed just a little more interesting, and once they had done their school shopping, they were allowed to leave their parents at Flourish&Blotts and go exploring on their own, with the strict injunction to be back in two hours. The time was spent discovering and, in Brendon's case, revisiting several little nooks that had previously escaped Ryan. He'd never seen Florean Fortescue's extended sundae menu, for example (having been satisfied with raspberry and chocolate on previous occasions), and the Welsh Green Special Brendon ordered for him today, with lime sorbet and chilli chocolate and minuscule fireworks dancing over the mounds of ice and cream and meringue, was quite impressive. (Fortescue wouldn't tell Ryan how he'd managed the charm, though.)
They sat in the sun, lazily enjoying their sundaes, while the tiny fireworks slowly fizzled out and Sirius Black glowered at them from every available surface.
“Have you seen this man?” Ryan read off one of the posters. “Come on, how likely is it that he still looks like that?”
“He doesn't have a wand,” Brendon protested. “He can't cast any glamours.”
Ryan gave him a long look. “You are telling me people can't do magic without wands,” he said flatly, and Brendon laughed, spraying meringue crumbs.
“Besides,” Ryan added, “I heard one of his cousins or something is a Metamorphmagus. That runs in families, and it's wandless.”
“I'm sure the Prophet would know if Black could change his face at will,” Brendon said, grinning at him, then pointed a spoon at the remains of Ryan's sundae. “Come on, finish that and we'll get out of here.”
They loaded up on parchment, quills and multicoloured inks in the stationery store, then visited the Magical Menagerie, where Ryan examined the white doves-a large sign next to their cage asking customers to please NOT drop silk handkerchiefs into the cage-while Brendon bought biscuits for his dog Bogart. Next, they went to the junk shop, which Ryan had never visited before but which Brendon proclaimed fantastic (a statement Ryan agreed with after having found two obscure Astronomy books he'd previously only read tantalising snatches of in various compendiums). They spent some time in the cauldron shop, too, looking through the selection of port-a-cauldrons. After reading an article in Magic Illustrated about their unreliability for long-stewing potions, Ryan had already decided against a collapsible one, but he and Brendon went through the solid cauldrons-ranging in size from thimble to soup canteen-and he eventually spent some of his allowance on a bowler hat-sized one that would fit nicely into his backpack.
“We have to get back,” Ryan said once he had paid and packed away his purchase, glancing at the clock behind the counter. Brendon shook his head.
“One more stop,” he said.
Ryan laughed when he saw where Brendon was leading him. “I already have a broom,” he protested. “Do you want me to upgrade already?” He nodded towards the broomstick on display in the broom shop window, surrounded by a gaggle of wizards and witches exchanging expert opinions on the design or just gazing covetously.
“Isn't it great?” Brendon said, ignoring the question. “It's called a Firebolt-the very latest model, really streamlined. I'd love to fly it, just for a minute. Kayla said they cost an arm and a leg, though. Wait here.”
Ryan looked at him, perplexed. “I thought you had something to show me?” he said. Brendon nodded.
“In a minute,” he said. “Wait here, I'll be right back.”
He elbowed himself into the packed shop, leaving Ryan to join the crowd gawking at the Firebolt. He wasn't used to comparing different broomstick models-all he knew was that his Cleansweep Nine had to be the best broom in all of existence-but he thought he could see what Brendon meant, anyway. The Firebolt's handle was slimmer than on most other brooms he'd seen, and the tail twigs looked almost ridiculously well-groomed. It was probably very fast.
“Ryan!”
Brendon arrived back out, flushed but pleased.
“It's nuts in there,” he said, handing Ryan a bag. “I was going to have them wrap it, but this witch behind me was shoving so I thought I'd just get out of there.” He sighed, then shoved at Ryan's arm amiably. “Go on, look.”
Ryan opened the bag. Inside was a small compass, made of walnut wood with brass fastening claws and the compass rose picked out in panels of cherry, ash and yew. The tiny needle swung back and forth and caught the light of the sun as Ryan turned the compass this way and that.
“I know we usually don't need it,” Brendon said, “but if we ever get the chance to do a long broom journey, you'll need a compass.” He smiled. “Happy birthday.”
Ryan looked at him, not sure what to say. “My birthday isn't for another week,” he pointed out. Brendon shrugged.
“You got your broom before time, too, so I thought it would be all right.”
“It's all right,” Ryan said, and closed his hands gently around the compass. “It's definitely all right.”
By the way Brendon grinned at him, he thought that the underlying words might have made it through, as well, but he said them anyway.
“Thank you.”
latform nine and three quarters was full of people, milling about and saying hello to their school mates and trying to avoid embarrassing last-minute cuddles from their family. Kayla and Kara both said a quick goodbye to Grace and Boyd and disappeared into the crowd, but Brendon lingered for an extra hug from each of them.
“You'll remember to be careful, won't you?” Grace asked him.
“Mum,” Brendon said, pained.
“I know, I know.” She smiled at him. “Aunt Gwen did say you had got very good. Even though I think she was upset at not having you with her for the summer.”
Brendon shrugged. He'd missed Aunt Gwen and her Dark Magic teaching as well, but he'd been incredibly grateful to spend the summer at home this year.
“Brendon!”
He turned. Spencer, who was trying to detach himself from two identical nine- or ten-year-old girls, was waving at him.
“Go on, then,” Grace said, giving Brendon another kiss. “Have a good year.”
“And try to get onto the Quidditch team and beat Hufflepuff,” Boyd said. “Kayla's won every game this summer. She needs someone to knock her down a peg.”
“Boyd,” Grace said.
“Just joking.”
“Bye, Mum, Dad,” Brendon said, grinning at them, then grabbed his trunk and made his way through the crowd.
By the time Brendon got to him, Spencer had managed to free himself, and the girls were running back towards a man in dark, Muggle clothing, who had been watching the spectacle and grinning. Spencer waved at him.
“My father,” he told Brendon, then picked up his trunk. “Have you seen any of the others?”
“No, but I think Ryan might be late,” Brendon said. “Anyway, we should probably just get a compartment and they'll find us.”
They picked a compartment, stowed their trunks and were soon joined by Luna and Ryan. Jonathan arrived last, hurrying into their compartment just as the whistle sounded and the train rocked into motion.
“I thought I was never going to find you,” he said, putting his trunk into place and sitting down beside Spencer with a heartfelt sigh of relief.
“Isn't Ginny coming?” Brendon asked.
“Nah.” Jonathan shrugged. “We'll see her at Hogwarts.”
It turned out to be a little sooner than that. The train had barely pulled out of King's Cross when Ginny came stomping into the compartment, dragging her trunk behind her and flouncing into a seat.
“Ron is a giant git,” she said, and that was all the information they were given.
It was a pretty uneventful ride to Hogwarts, and they had time to swap stories from their respective holidays. Brendon stayed mainly silent. Although his summer had been wonderful and novel for him-it was the first he'd spent entirely at home since he was seven-he thought that family dinners and Quidditch games with his siblings probably wouldn't rate as very exciting with the others, so he settled for listening to their tales. Ginny had the most exotic story to tell: her descriptions of the family trip to Egypt included cursed pyramids, the desert by night and hot bazaars in wizarding Cairo that sold everything from pocket Sneakoscopes and flying carpets to pygmee Sphinxes, straining in their cages and shouting riddles in tiny, reedy voices. (“Illegal cross breeding,” her dad had muttered and steered them quickly away.)
For Brendon, the time on the train flew by almost too quickly, but he noticed that Ginny seemed to be fidgeting and glancing at her watch a lot. Finally, just after they'd changed into their school robes, she announced that she was going to go and find Ron again.
“I just want-it feels weird, we said we'd go together,” she said, blushing. Jonathan grinned.
“Sure,” he said. “Say hello to him. And his friends.”
Ginny didn't dignify this with an answer, only blushed deeper and tried to look haughty (not managing very well).
She had hardly been gone a minute when the train started to slow. Hogwarts, Brendon thought, anticipation starting to grow in him, and he grinned over at Luna.
Luna, however, was staring out of the window with a puzzled frown on her face.
*****
On her way down the corridor a few carriages away, Ginny stumbled and grasped for support as the train shuddered to a halt. She frowned to herself, counting off the travelled hours in her head. They couldn't be at Hogwarts quite yet.
The lights flickered and blinked, and then all went out at once.
here was movement in the corridor outside; Jon could hear the soft noise of rustling cloth. Something was coming towards them. He could hear his own heartbeat-loud in the eerie silence that had descended on the train-and Spencer's sharp intake of breath beside him. From the next compartment, he could hear something like a shriek.
“Lumos,” Ryan whispered, and by the faint blossoming wand light, Jon just had time to see his and Brendon's pinched expressions before the door slid open.
There was a robed figure standing in the doorway, its features entirely shadowed by its hood. It was impossible to tell whether it was male or female, but, somehow, Jon had the feeling that those concepts didn't even apply here. The person-the thing-turned its head from side to side, hidden eyes lingering shortly on each of their faces, and then breathed in slowly. The air went very cold.
“No,” said Luna faintly.
Panic gripped Jon so strongly it felt like being thrust head first into icy water. He couldn't breathe. His hands hung heavy as his sides, useless.
Ginny, he thought wildly, then, more calmly, That's wrong.
He'd been back in that terrible moment when he'd woken up in a seventh-floor class room, candles and bodies strewn around him, and Ginny had been gone-possessed, taken, dead? But Ginny had come back from the Chamber of Secrets alive and well, and the shade of You-Know-Who had been destroyed.
Jon looked up and around him. Ryan was gripping his wand tightly with one hand and Brendon's wrist with the other, his knuckles white. Brendon was very pale, staring at nothing, and beside Jon, Spencer seemed to be struggling to speak. Luna was crying quietly.
The thing in the doorway sucked at the air again and then made a strange motion with its head, stretching into the compartment with sickening eagerness.
The sound of running feet came sudden and loud in the silent corridor.
“Get away!” someone shouted. “You beastly, rotten-get away from them!”
There was a burst of white light outside the compartment doors, and the cloaked figure recoiled and disappeared.
They all moved suddenly, as though the light had unlocked something. Jon breathed in deeply, but before he had time to ask any questions, Brendon's sister Kayla appeared in the doorway, flanked by several Hufflepuffs about her age.
“Brendon!”
Kayla hurried into the compartment and dropped to her knees in front of Brendon. He was shaking.
“I did it,” he murmured.
“You didn't mean to,” Kayla said immediately. “It wasn't your fault. We're all fine, you didn't hurt us.”
“I did it all,” Brendon said. Ryan had let go of his wrist, and he now clasped his hands together tightly, nails digging into the skin. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“You didn't mean it,” Kayla said, and she took one of his hands in each of hers, prised them gently apart and folded them within her fingers. “It's OK. Cedric, can you go find some chocolate?”
Jon blinked and stirred, looking away from Brendon and towards the door, where one tall Hufflepuff boy remained. He could hear swift footsteps in the corridor outside.
“Sure,” Cedric said. “I'll be back in a minute.” He met Jon's gaze for a moment, then left in the direction of the driver's carriage.
Jon stood up quickly. “I'll go and-” he began, but no one was really listening. Spencer had folded his arms and was staring glumly down at his shoes, and Ryan was patting Luna's knee awkwardly. Jon worked his way past Kayla, stumbled in the door as the lights blinked on and the train started up again, then ran down the corridor and caught up with Cedric two compartments down.
“Hey,” he said, “I was, um, I just wondered if you wanted some help.”
Cedric looked at him curiously, then nodded. “Feels a bit better just getting up and doing something, right?”
“Yeah, that's-” Jon broke off as he glanced into the next compartment they passed and saw one of the Hufflepuffs who had arrived with Kayla hugging a girl who was sobbing uncontrollably while her two friends held hands, tight enough to hurt. “What was that-thing?”
“It's called a Dementor,” Cedric replied, then continued in a voice that sounded as though he was reciting from a text book, “Dementors feed on human emotions, more specifically positive ones. In their presence, especially horrible memories tend to surface. If someone is with them long enough, only those memories will eventually remain. The Dementors take every good and happy thought or memory from them.” He made a disgusted face, then added, “They're horrible things. I have no idea why they're here.”
“Isn't there some sort of control of them?” Jon asked, shocked.
Cedric looked at him kindly. “Muggleborn, right?” he asked, then went on, “Dementors are under Ministry control. They guard Azkaban, and sometimes they're used for transporting prisoners and things like that.”
“But why would they be on the Hogwarts train?” Jon asked, still bewildered. Cedric shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
“I expect Professor Dumbledore will explain everything at the Feast. They couldn't have got on the train without his permission.”
They didn't talk after that until they arrived at the driver's carriage. Jon kept in step with Cedric, staring straight ahead the whole time. When he forgot himself and looked into one of the compartments he saw people looking ill and upset and frightened, and the one time he looked out of the window he caught a glimpse of a robed figure staring up at the train, quickly gone from sight as the train sped past, but leaving a feeling of intense unease.
Just before they reached they driver's quarters, Jon was hailed by a voice from the last compartment and asked Cedric to go ahead.
Padma Patil was sitting in the compartment, holding hands with her Gryffindor sister, Parvati. She was the one who thought Ryan was cute, Jon remembered. There were some other students with them, as well: Parvati's friend Lavender Brown, Mandy Brocklehurst and Kevin Entwhistle.
“Are you OK?” Patil-well, Padma Patil-asked him. He nodded, and she went on, “It was creepy, right? Did they try to smell you out, too?”
“Yeah.” Jon frowned. “It was really strange.”
“Is,” Parvati began and hesitated. “Is everyone in your compartment all right?”
Despite the worried and uneasy expressions on all their faces, Jon saw Lavender smile faintly and nudge Brocklehurst.
“Yes,” he said, “I think so. We were all scared, but some people came who knew how to make the, um, the Dementors go away. And Ryan, from your House, he was great,” he added with a wish for mischief. “He lit up the compartment with his wand, so at least we could see what was happening. We'd probably have been a lot more frightened otherwise.”
He watched Parvati's happy smile and grinned inwardly, then gestured to the door. “I have to-” he said, and they nodded.
“Take care,” Padma said, just before he closed the door.
Cedric met him as he exited the compartment. He was carrying a stack of Honeydukes' chocolate bars, with two cardboard boxes balanced on top. Jon hastened to unburden him.
“Take a chocolate frog before you do anything else,” Cedric said, nodding at the topmost box. Jon looked at him, confused.
“What?”
“Chocolate is an antidote to the effects of the Dementors,” Cedric explained. “It's one of those things most people think is just a myth, but we read a study on it a few years back, when we last had a proper DADA professor. It's something about dolphins. I didn't get it exactly, but it works.”
Trying not to show his scepticism, Jon carefully manoeuvred a frog out of the box, opened the packet with his teeth and swallowed the frog whole.
It was like swallowing a mouthful of honey tea at just the right temperature. The warmth spread throughout his entire body, starting with his chest and radiating outwards. He hadn't been aware of how cold he'd been until right then.
“That's great,” he managed. Cedric was grinning at him.
“Neat, isn't it? The witch with the snacks trolley gave me all she had left when I explained what it was for.”
Jon hesitated. “What is it for?” he asked. Even with Spencer, whose chocolate addiction was not as secret as he believed, they could hardly go through two boxes of frogs in their compartment. “There's a lot of chocolate here.”
“There's a lot of students on the train,” Cedric said, smiling. He knocked on the Patils' compartment door.
“Are you all right?” he asked as it opened. Jon, looking over his shoulder, saw Padma and Parvati blush identically as they nodded. Lavender giggled. “Here, take a chocolate bar and share it out among yourselves.”
They went on like that, handing out chocolate frogs and Honeydukes bars in every compartment they passed, exchanging names and information on the way. Jon found out that his companion's full name was Cedric Diggory, that he was starting Year Five in Hufflepuff and that he was taking over as Quidditch captain. He'd been talking tactics with Brendon's sister Kayla and some other old-timers on the team when the Dementors had come on board.
“I was really glad to be in their compartment when that happened,” he said. “They've practised the Patronus Charm before, so they could drive the Dementors off.”
“That Charm, was it that white light thing?” Jon asked. “How does that work?”
“It's supposed to conjure something like a guardian, either a figure or just some kind of mist-I've heard it's really hard to do properly-that shields you from the Dementors,” Cedric said. “It's made of positive feelings, and Dementors can't touch it.”
Cedric headed off to do the last carriages by himself once they reached their starting point, leaving Jon to supply his compartment with chocolate frogs. Jon kept thinking about what he'd learned. The Patronus Charm sounded like it could be useful. He was feeling a lot better after his chocolate, and he was pretty sure he hadn't had at all as bad a time of it as Brendon-who was still quite white when Jon arrived back-but experiencing that fear for Ginny had been bad enough the first time. If he was ever going to run into a Dementor again, he would feel a lot better if he knew he had some kind of defence against it.
he Great Hall was shockingly bright after the scare on the train, and Ryan blinked in the light. As he passed the Ravenclaw table, he met the eyes of Turpin and was about to nod in greeting before he recalled that he wasn't supposed to know her.
He sank into the seat Ginny had been saving for him with a sigh. It was the first time he saw her since she left their compartment to find Ron, and he noticed that she was extremely pale.
“Are you OK?” she asked before he could. Ryan shrugged. The worst horror of the encounter with the Dementor had passed with the chocolate he'd been given, and it was now only a memory. It could be broken down, examined and analysed.
Ryan frowned. The memory was new and discomfiting. There had been shouting, his mother's voice-shrill as he'd never heard it before-and another's, a man's voice, one Ryan didn't recognise.
“I saw Tom,” Ginny said, unprompted, and Ryan nodded. “When he came out of the diary. I've never seen it that clearly before. Not even when-never.” She sighed, then looked down the table. Ryan, following her gaze, saw an empty spot on either side of Ron Weasley.
“Where are Hermione and Harry?” he asked. Ginny blushed.
“Harry fainted,” she said defiantly, as though daring him to comment negatively on the fact. Ryan only nodded again. Several pantomimes he'd observed over at the Slytherin table now started to make sense. “I think Professor McGonagall just wanted to check that he was OK.”
Ryan wondered if she realised that she had only answered part of his question, but before he had time to point this out, he was distracted by the sight of his least favourite head wear.
The Sorting Hat was being carried onto the stage by Professor Flitwick. Ryan glared at it, in his head running through several of the day dreams containing the Hat he'd amused himself with in his darker hours over the last year. Most of them involved scissors, fire or a combination of both. The Sorting Hat cleared its non-existent throat and began to sing.
Ryan had been expecting an off-tune rendition of some kind of drinking song, mixed with vaguely inappropriate jokes. But the Sorting Hat sang about founders and Houses, about clever Ravenclaws and courageous Gryffindors. It was not a very great improvement on last year's loud and burbling song, considering that this time, Ryan had to listen to what characteristics the blasted thing had supposed him to have-and what students at the school now expected of him.
I see your thoughts, I watch your heart,
I put you in your place-
For in each House I set the ones
Most suited to its ways.
In Gryffindor, the students who
(Like Godric was of old)
Of manners good and gallant are
And action quick and bold...
Ryan wondered if it was too soon to send off a new petition to Professor McGonagall about switching to Ravenclaw.
Next chapter
CHAPTER ONE
yan had never really got Diagon Alley. Most shops didn't interest him at all, and those that did had never lived up to the standards set by Holyhead's magic tuck-away streets. Diagon Alley's Apothecary was an exception, awing him every time, but Flourish&Blotts, for example, was not as nice as the much cosier Paul's Pre-Loved Books, a second-hand bookshop back home in Tripping Lane. Also, the manager at Flourish&Blotts did not have Paul Chitterling's indulgence towards his customers, and tended to start coughing and hinting about payment before you'd even got halfway into the first chapter of a book. It was extremely annoying, and of course made it just about impossible to evaluate if the book was likely to be any good.
It was like he expected you to buy your books judging by the jacket.
Seeing Diagon Alley with Brendon was, however, a new experience. Everything seemed just a little more interesting, and once they had done their school shopping, they were allowed to leave their parents at Flourish&Blotts and go exploring on their own, with the strict injunction to be back in two hours. The time was spent discovering and, in Brendon's case, revisiting several little nooks that had previously escaped Ryan. He'd never seen Florean Fortescue's extended sundae menu, for example (having been satisfied with raspberry and chocolate on previous occasions), and the Welsh Green Special Brendon ordered for him today, with lime sorbet and chilli chocolate and minuscule fireworks dancing over the mounds of ice and cream and meringue, was quite impressive. (Fortescue wouldn't tell Ryan how he'd managed the charm, though.)
They sat in the sun, lazily enjoying their sundaes, while the tiny fireworks slowly fizzled out and Sirius Black glowered at them from every available surface.
“Have you seen this man?” Ryan read off one of the posters. “Come on, how likely is it that he still looks like that?”
“He doesn't have a wand,” Brendon protested. “He can't cast any glamours.”
Ryan gave him a long look. “You are telling me people can't do magic without wands,” he said flatly, and Brendon laughed, spraying meringue crumbs.
“Besides,” Ryan added, “I heard one of his cousins or something is a Metamorphmagus. That runs in families, and it's wandless.”
“I'm sure the Prophet would know if Black could change his face at will,” Brendon said, grinning at him, then pointed a spoon at the remains of Ryan's sundae. “Come on, finish that and we'll get out of here.”
They loaded up on parchment, quills and multicoloured inks in the stationery store, then visited the Magical Menagerie, where Ryan examined the white doves-a large sign next to their cage asking customers to please NOT drop silk handkerchiefs into the cage-while Brendon bought biscuits for his dog Bogart. Next, they went to the junk shop, which Ryan had never visited before but which Brendon proclaimed fantastic (a statement Ryan agreed with after having found two obscure Astronomy books he'd previously only read tantalising snatches of in various compendiums). They spent some time in the cauldron shop, too, looking through the selection of port-a-cauldrons. After reading an article in Magic Illustrated about their unreliability for long-stewing potions, Ryan had already decided against a collapsible one, but he and Brendon went through the solid cauldrons-ranging in size from thimble to soup canteen-and he eventually spent some of his allowance on a bowler hat-sized one that would fit nicely into his backpack.
“We have to get back,” Ryan said once he had paid and packed away his purchase, glancing at the clock behind the counter. Brendon shook his head.
“One more stop,” he said.
Ryan laughed when he saw where Brendon was leading him. “I already have a broom,” he protested. “Do you want me to upgrade already?” He nodded towards the broomstick on display in the broom shop window, surrounded by a gaggle of wizards and witches exchanging expert opinions on the design or just gazing covetously.
“Isn't it great?” Brendon said, ignoring the question. “It's called a Firebolt-the very latest model, really streamlined. I'd love to fly it, just for a minute. Kayla said they cost an arm and a leg, though. Wait here.”
Ryan looked at him, perplexed. “I thought you had something to show me?” he said. Brendon nodded.
“In a minute,” he said. “Wait here, I'll be right back.”
He elbowed himself into the packed shop, leaving Ryan to join the crowd gawking at the Firebolt. He wasn't used to comparing different broomstick models-all he knew was that his Cleansweep Nine had to be the best broom in all of existence-but he thought he could see what Brendon meant, anyway. The Firebolt's handle was slimmer than on most other brooms he'd seen, and the tail twigs looked almost ridiculously well-groomed. It was probably very fast.
“Ryan!”
Brendon arrived back out, flushed but pleased.
“It's nuts in there,” he said, handing Ryan a bag. “I was going to have them wrap it, but this witch behind me was shoving so I thought I'd just get out of there.” He sighed, then shoved at Ryan's arm amiably. “Go on, look.”
Ryan opened the bag. Inside was a small compass, made of walnut wood with brass fastening claws and the compass rose picked out in panels of cherry, ash and yew. The tiny needle swung back and forth and caught the light of the sun as Ryan turned the compass this way and that.
“I know we usually don't need it,” Brendon said, “but if we ever get the chance to do a long broom journey, you'll need a compass.” He smiled. “Happy birthday.”
Ryan looked at him, not sure what to say. “My birthday isn't for another week,” he pointed out. Brendon shrugged.
“You got your broom before time, too, so I thought it would be all right.”
“It's all right,” Ryan said, and closed his hands gently around the compass. “It's definitely all right.”
By the way Brendon grinned at him, he thought that the underlying words might have made it through, as well, but he said them anyway.
“Thank you.”
latform nine and three quarters was full of people, milling about and saying hello to their school mates and trying to avoid embarrassing last-minute cuddles from their family. Kayla and Kara both said a quick goodbye to Grace and Boyd and disappeared into the crowd, but Brendon lingered for an extra hug from each of them.
“You'll remember to be careful, won't you?” Grace asked him.
“Mum,” Brendon said, pained.
“I know, I know.” She smiled at him. “Aunt Gwen did say you had got very good. Even though I think she was upset at not having you with her for the summer.”
Brendon shrugged. He'd missed Aunt Gwen and her Dark Magic teaching as well, but he'd been incredibly grateful to spend the summer at home this year.
“Brendon!”
He turned. Spencer, who was trying to detach himself from two identical nine- or ten-year-old girls, was waving at him.
“Go on, then,” Grace said, giving Brendon another kiss. “Have a good year.”
“And try to get onto the Quidditch team and beat Hufflepuff,” Boyd said. “Kayla's won every game this summer. She needs someone to knock her down a peg.”
“Boyd,” Grace said.
“Just joking.”
“Bye, Mum, Dad,” Brendon said, grinning at them, then grabbed his trunk and made his way through the crowd.
By the time Brendon got to him, Spencer had managed to free himself, and the girls were running back towards a man in dark, Muggle clothing, who had been watching the spectacle and grinning. Spencer waved at him.
“My father,” he told Brendon, then picked up his trunk. “Have you seen any of the others?”
“No, but I think Ryan might be late,” Brendon said. “Anyway, we should probably just get a compartment and they'll find us.”
They picked a compartment, stowed their trunks and were soon joined by Luna and Ryan. Jonathan arrived last, hurrying into their compartment just as the whistle sounded and the train rocked into motion.
“I thought I was never going to find you,” he said, putting his trunk into place and sitting down beside Spencer with a heartfelt sigh of relief.
“Isn't Ginny coming?” Brendon asked.
“Nah.” Jonathan shrugged. “We'll see her at Hogwarts.”
It turned out to be a little sooner than that. The train had barely pulled out of King's Cross when Ginny came stomping into the compartment, dragging her trunk behind her and flouncing into a seat.
“Ron is a giant git,” she said, and that was all the information they were given.
It was a pretty uneventful ride to Hogwarts, and they had time to swap stories from their respective holidays. Brendon stayed mainly silent. Although his summer had been wonderful and novel for him-it was the first he'd spent entirely at home since he was seven-he thought that family dinners and Quidditch games with his siblings probably wouldn't rate as very exciting with the others, so he settled for listening to their tales. Ginny had the most exotic story to tell: her descriptions of the family trip to Egypt included cursed pyramids, the desert by night and hot bazaars in wizarding Cairo that sold everything from pocket Sneakoscopes and flying carpets to pygmee Sphinxes, straining in their cages and shouting riddles in tiny, reedy voices. (“Illegal cross breeding,” her dad had muttered and steered them quickly away.)
For Brendon, the time on the train flew by almost too quickly, but he noticed that Ginny seemed to be fidgeting and glancing at her watch a lot. Finally, just after they'd changed into their school robes, she announced that she was going to go and find Ron again.
“I just want-it feels weird, we said we'd go together,” she said, blushing. Jonathan grinned.
“Sure,” he said. “Say hello to him. And his friends.”
Ginny didn't dignify this with an answer, only blushed deeper and tried to look haughty (not managing very well).
She had hardly been gone a minute when the train started to slow. Hogwarts, Brendon thought, anticipation starting to grow in him, and he grinned over at Luna.
Luna, however, was staring out of the window with a puzzled frown on her face.
*****
On her way down the corridor a few carriages away, Ginny stumbled and grasped for support as the train shuddered to a halt. She frowned to herself, counting off the travelled hours in her head. They couldn't be at Hogwarts quite yet.
The lights flickered and blinked, and then all went out at once.
here was movement in the corridor outside; Jon could hear the soft noise of rustling cloth. Something was coming towards them. He could hear his own heartbeat-loud in the eerie silence that had descended on the train-and Spencer's sharp intake of breath beside him. From the next compartment, he could hear something like a shriek.
“Lumos,” Ryan whispered, and by the faint blossoming wand light, Jon just had time to see his and Brendon's pinched expressions before the door slid open.
There was a robed figure standing in the doorway, its features entirely shadowed by its hood. It was impossible to tell whether it was male or female, but, somehow, Jon had the feeling that those concepts didn't even apply here. The person-the thing-turned its head from side to side, hidden eyes lingering shortly on each of their faces, and then breathed in slowly. The air went very cold.
“No,” said Luna faintly.
Panic gripped Jon so strongly it felt like being thrust head first into icy water. He couldn't breathe. His hands hung heavy as his sides, useless.
Ginny, he thought wildly, then, more calmly, That's wrong.
He'd been back in that terrible moment when he'd woken up in a seventh-floor class room, candles and bodies strewn around him, and Ginny had been gone-possessed, taken, dead? But Ginny had come back from the Chamber of Secrets alive and well, and the shade of You-Know-Who had been destroyed.
Jon looked up and around him. Ryan was gripping his wand tightly with one hand and Brendon's wrist with the other, his knuckles white. Brendon was very pale, staring at nothing, and beside Jon, Spencer seemed to be struggling to speak. Luna was crying quietly.
The thing in the doorway sucked at the air again and then made a strange motion with its head, stretching into the compartment with sickening eagerness.
The sound of running feet came sudden and loud in the silent corridor.
“Get away!” someone shouted. “You beastly, rotten-get away from them!”
There was a burst of white light outside the compartment doors, and the cloaked figure recoiled and disappeared.
They all moved suddenly, as though the light had unlocked something. Jon breathed in deeply, but before he had time to ask any questions, Brendon's sister Kayla appeared in the doorway, flanked by several Hufflepuffs about her age.
“Brendon!”
Kayla hurried into the compartment and dropped to her knees in front of Brendon. He was shaking.
“I did it,” he murmured.
“You didn't mean to,” Kayla said immediately. “It wasn't your fault. We're all fine, you didn't hurt us.”
“I did it all,” Brendon said. Ryan had let go of his wrist, and he now clasped his hands together tightly, nails digging into the skin. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“You didn't mean it,” Kayla said, and she took one of his hands in each of hers, prised them gently apart and folded them within her fingers. “It's OK. Cedric, can you go find some chocolate?”
Jon blinked and stirred, looking away from Brendon and towards the door, where one tall Hufflepuff boy remained. He could hear swift footsteps in the corridor outside.
“Sure,” Cedric said. “I'll be back in a minute.” He met Jon's gaze for a moment, then left in the direction of the driver's carriage.
Jon stood up quickly. “I'll go and-” he began, but no one was really listening. Spencer had folded his arms and was staring glumly down at his shoes, and Ryan was patting Luna's knee awkwardly. Jon worked his way past Kayla, stumbled in the door as the lights blinked on and the train started up again, then ran down the corridor and caught up with Cedric two compartments down.
“Hey,” he said, “I was, um, I just wondered if you wanted some help.”
Cedric looked at him curiously, then nodded. “Feels a bit better just getting up and doing something, right?”
“Yeah, that's-” Jon broke off as he glanced into the next compartment they passed and saw one of the Hufflepuffs who had arrived with Kayla hugging a girl who was sobbing uncontrollably while her two friends held hands, tight enough to hurt. “What was that-thing?”
“It's called a Dementor,” Cedric replied, then continued in a voice that sounded as though he was reciting from a text book, “Dementors feed on human emotions, more specifically positive ones. In their presence, especially horrible memories tend to surface. If someone is with them long enough, only those memories will eventually remain. The Dementors take every good and happy thought or memory from them.” He made a disgusted face, then added, “They're horrible things. I have no idea why they're here.”
“Isn't there some sort of control of them?” Jon asked, shocked.
Cedric looked at him kindly. “Muggleborn, right?” he asked, then went on, “Dementors are under Ministry control. They guard Azkaban, and sometimes they're used for transporting prisoners and things like that.”
“But why would they be on the Hogwarts train?” Jon asked, still bewildered. Cedric shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
“I expect Professor Dumbledore will explain everything at the Feast. They couldn't have got on the train without his permission.”
They didn't talk after that until they arrived at the driver's carriage. Jon kept in step with Cedric, staring straight ahead the whole time. When he forgot himself and looked into one of the compartments he saw people looking ill and upset and frightened, and the one time he looked out of the window he caught a glimpse of a robed figure staring up at the train, quickly gone from sight as the train sped past, but leaving a feeling of intense unease.
Just before they reached they driver's quarters, Jon was hailed by a voice from the last compartment and asked Cedric to go ahead.
Padma Patil was sitting in the compartment, holding hands with her Gryffindor sister, Parvati. She was the one who thought Ryan was cute, Jon remembered. There were some other students with them, as well: Parvati's friend Lavender Brown, Mandy Brocklehurst and Kevin Entwhistle.
“Are you OK?” Patil-well, Padma Patil-asked him. He nodded, and she went on, “It was creepy, right? Did they try to smell you out, too?”
“Yeah.” Jon frowned. “It was really strange.”
“Is,” Parvati began and hesitated. “Is everyone in your compartment all right?”
Despite the worried and uneasy expressions on all their faces, Jon saw Lavender smile faintly and nudge Brocklehurst.
“Yes,” he said, “I think so. We were all scared, but some people came who knew how to make the, um, the Dementors go away. And Ryan, from your House, he was great,” he added with a wish for mischief. “He lit up the compartment with his wand, so at least we could see what was happening. We'd probably have been a lot more frightened otherwise.”
He watched Parvati's happy smile and grinned inwardly, then gestured to the door. “I have to-” he said, and they nodded.
“Take care,” Padma said, just before he closed the door.
Cedric met him as he exited the compartment. He was carrying a stack of Honeydukes' chocolate bars, with two cardboard boxes balanced on top. Jon hastened to unburden him.
“Take a chocolate frog before you do anything else,” Cedric said, nodding at the topmost box. Jon looked at him, confused.
“What?”
“Chocolate is an antidote to the effects of the Dementors,” Cedric explained. “It's one of those things most people think is just a myth, but we read a study on it a few years back, when we last had a proper DADA professor. It's something about dolphins. I didn't get it exactly, but it works.”
Trying not to show his scepticism, Jon carefully manoeuvred a frog out of the box, opened the packet with his teeth and swallowed the frog whole.
It was like swallowing a mouthful of honey tea at just the right temperature. The warmth spread throughout his entire body, starting with his chest and radiating outwards. He hadn't been aware of how cold he'd been until right then.
“That's great,” he managed. Cedric was grinning at him.
“Neat, isn't it? The witch with the snacks trolley gave me all she had left when I explained what it was for.”
Jon hesitated. “What is it for?” he asked. Even with Spencer, whose chocolate addiction was not as secret as he believed, they could hardly go through two boxes of frogs in their compartment. “There's a lot of chocolate here.”
“There's a lot of students on the train,” Cedric said, smiling. He knocked on the Patils' compartment door.
“Are you all right?” he asked as it opened. Jon, looking over his shoulder, saw Padma and Parvati blush identically as they nodded. Lavender giggled. “Here, take a chocolate bar and share it out among yourselves.”
They went on like that, handing out chocolate frogs and Honeydukes bars in every compartment they passed, exchanging names and information on the way. Jon found out that his companion's full name was Cedric Diggory, that he was starting Year Five in Hufflepuff and that he was taking over as Quidditch captain. He'd been talking tactics with Brendon's sister Kayla and some other old-timers on the team when the Dementors had come on board.
“I was really glad to be in their compartment when that happened,” he said. “They've practised the Patronus Charm before, so they could drive the Dementors off.”
“That Charm, was it that white light thing?” Jon asked. “How does that work?”
“It's supposed to conjure something like a guardian, either a figure or just some kind of mist-I've heard it's really hard to do properly-that shields you from the Dementors,” Cedric said. “It's made of positive feelings, and Dementors can't touch it.”
Cedric headed off to do the last carriages by himself once they reached their starting point, leaving Jon to supply his compartment with chocolate frogs. Jon kept thinking about what he'd learned. The Patronus Charm sounded like it could be useful. He was feeling a lot better after his chocolate, and he was pretty sure he hadn't had at all as bad a time of it as Brendon-who was still quite white when Jon arrived back-but experiencing that fear for Ginny had been bad enough the first time. If he was ever going to run into a Dementor again, he would feel a lot better if he knew he had some kind of defence against it.
he Great Hall was shockingly bright after the scare on the train, and Ryan blinked in the light. As he passed the Ravenclaw table, he met the eyes of Turpin and was about to nod in greeting before he recalled that he wasn't supposed to know her.
He sank into the seat Ginny had been saving for him with a sigh. It was the first time he saw her since she left their compartment to find Ron, and he noticed that she was extremely pale.
“Are you OK?” she asked before he could. Ryan shrugged. The worst horror of the encounter with the Dementor had passed with the chocolate he'd been given, and it was now only a memory. It could be broken down, examined and analysed.
Ryan frowned. The memory was new and discomfiting. There had been shouting, his mother's voice-shrill as he'd never heard it before-and another's, a man's voice, one Ryan didn't recognise.
“I saw Tom,” Ginny said, unprompted, and Ryan nodded. “When he came out of the diary. I've never seen it that clearly before. Not even when-never.” She sighed, then looked down the table. Ryan, following her gaze, saw an empty spot on either side of Ron Weasley.
“Where are Hermione and Harry?” he asked. Ginny blushed.
“Harry fainted,” she said defiantly, as though daring him to comment negatively on the fact. Ryan only nodded again. Several pantomimes he'd observed over at the Slytherin table now started to make sense. “I think Professor McGonagall just wanted to check that he was OK.”
Ryan wondered if she realised that she had only answered part of his question, but before he had time to point this out, he was distracted by the sight of his least favourite head wear.
The Sorting Hat was being carried onto the stage by Professor Flitwick. Ryan glared at it, in his head running through several of the day dreams containing the Hat he'd amused himself with in his darker hours over the last year. Most of them involved scissors, fire or a combination of both. The Sorting Hat cleared its non-existent throat and began to sing.
Ryan had been expecting an off-tune rendition of some kind of drinking song, mixed with vaguely inappropriate jokes. But the Sorting Hat sang about founders and Houses, about clever Ravenclaws and courageous Gryffindors. It was not a very great improvement on last year's loud and burbling song, considering that this time, Ryan had to listen to what characteristics the blasted thing had supposed him to have-and what students at the school now expected of him.
I see your thoughts, I watch your heart,
I put you in your place-
For in each House I set the ones
Most suited to its ways.
In Gryffindor, the students who
(Like Godric was of old)
Of manners good and gallant are
And action quick and bold...
Ryan wondered if it was too soon to send off a new petition to Professor McGonagall about switching to Ravenclaw.
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