The farewells next morning were
fonder than Amelia had expected, having only met
the Weasleys the day before. Giving her hand an extra squeeze as they stood on
the platform, Molly reminded her of her earlier
offer.

“It’s really no trouble, dear, if
you need to talk.” Amelia wondered if the
presence of so many rambunctious males got to her friend at times.

As they boarded the train she
noticed Harry duck out from behind a pillar with
Arthur close behind him, both looking grim. It
didn’t take much thought to guess what they’d been discussing; from Molly’s
expression she held similar suspicions.

Hermione was riding with her
friends as usual, so she waded through the hordes of children and, nodding to
her cousin, had quickly found herself a seat in the front carriage next to a
large friendly woman who had in her charge a rickety trolley piled high with
some of the most unusual sweets Amelia had ever
seen. She and Elspeth, who, Amelia discovered,
was the wife of the driver, spent a long and pleasant morning discussing
everything from the current state of the ministry to the intricacies of village
life in Hogsmeade. Mel had managed to follow most of the conversation, but her
lack of experience in the wizarding world was beginning to tax her and she was
mildly relieved when around lunchtime Elspeth announced that she must sell her
wares to the chatting, laughing and – Mel suspected – generally misbehaving
children inhabiting the compartments of the train and trundled off, the wheels
of her trolley skittering madly as the tracks headed into a tunnel. She’d tried
a pumpkin pastry upon her return, hoping to supplement the dreary Muggle train
station sandwich she’d bought earlier but hadn’t been convinced. Elspeth had
settled down for what she termed a ‘restorative’ nap and Amelia
had taken the opportunity to enjoy the countryside outside her window in
solitude.

She’d always enjoyed travelling,
walking, riding, singing along to the radio in a car, sitting with a book in
the rumbling carriage of a train – it made no difference. It was as if time
operated on different rules – time could stand still for those precious hours
while she hurtled towards a new town, a new home, a new world. Her time to be
herself: a little oasis of peace before the hustle and bustle of life took over.
It was one of the reasons for her rather eclectic collection of previous jobs,
stretching from archaeologist to ranger to roadie; teaching, she reflected,
would probably be the most static post she’d ever held.

She was still staring out at the
now rain-soaked world when she noticed that the train was slowing; excitedly,
thinking that they must have reached their destination, she stood and pressed
her hand to the glass.

Strange, she thought, that the
rain should turn what had been such a muggy day so cold; her head snapped back
as she reached for her jacket: something was moving outside the carriage,
something dark. Behind her Elspeth awoke with a start as the train ground to a
halt, spilling her pastries and cakes across the floor, her breathing loud in
the unaccustomed quiet, they heard the sound of compartment doors opening as
students tried to see why the train had stopped. Then, as if the darkness
outside had reached inside the train, all the lights in the carriage went out;
Elspeth gave a loud gasp and a point of light appeared next to Amelia – the
older witch had got out her wand. Hurriedly, Amelia
followed suit; even as she did ice covered the glass that her breath was now
clouding over.

With a soft click, the driver’s
door opened and a middle aged wizard backed towards his wife, whimpering;
Elspeth gave a strangled sob, her eyes and those of her husband affixed on the
door to the carriage. There, in the half-light, was a shrouded figure, tall and
thin and moving towards them. For a moment, Amelia
felt sure that the creature, with its icy countenance and rasping breath was
going to kill them, but it stopped before them, as if searching for something
before moving off down the train. As it passed her Amelia
had the sudden impression of bodies in rubble; running in the dark; the taste
of plaster dust and smoke in her mouth; Hermione’s anguished cries behind her.
As the creature left them behind she was aware of sobbing – she turned to find
Elspeth sat on the floor of the carriage amongst her ruined confectionary; her
husband was knelt beside her, though he too was white as a sheet. Shaking, she
lifted her hand to her face to wipe away the tears that she hadn’t realised
she’d shed.

The lights began to come back on,
weakly at first, suggesting that the creatures had finished their unpleasant
business within the train; the feeling of dread left her more slowly. She
helped the driver, a short, hairy wizard named Horace,
clear up the carriage and checked that Elspeth would be alright as the train
shuddered back to life, glancing up at the door as she did so.

“Go on dear, I’ll be fine”, the
older witch said, motioning Amelia along the
train.

Slowly, due to the confusion of
frightened children in the corridor, Amelia
moved along the train, wand still out.

“What’s going on Miss?”

“What was it Miss?”

“Is it coming back?”

Not used to authority, Amelia
faltered at first before remembering that she was responsible for these
children.

“Back into the compartments,
please. Everything’s OK now. We’re nearly at Hogwarts – robes on everyone. No,
it’s not coming back,” she answered as she made her way along the train. At
least I bloody hope it’s not, she thought, fervently.

She hadn’t really expected it to
work, but the Voice and the robes appeared to do the trick, imbuing her with
the expectation of command.

In the last carriage she found
the compartment that she’d been searching for, its occupants looking badly
shaken. Inside were five kids, and one adult; she assessed them rapidly as
twelve eyes turned to take her in. Harry looked
up at her, a little dazed – he didn’t look well; next to him Ron
was clutching Scabbers, his familiar, in his top pocket. Ginny was holding her
brother’s arm tightly, eyes wide with fear; she was next to a boy with dark,
floppy hair, already in his robes, who was staring at the goal of Amelia’s
search, who chose this moment to fling herself at Mel. She caught her cousin in
a tight hug.

Breaking the embrace but holding
onto the girl’s arms Mel stared at her:

“Jesus,
Hermione, are you ok?”

Hermione nodded, then glanced
around in mild embarrassment.

Sensing this, the only adult in
the compartment, a scruffy looking brown haired wizard in his mid thirties took
his leave to speak to the driver; he handed Harry
a large piece of chocolate. Harry was, Amelia
noted, worryingly pale. He paused by the door and looked at her questioningly;
she was quite pretty, he noted.

“My cousin,” she said, by way of
explanation.

“Oh, of course,” he replied,
allowing her to pass him before disappearing further along the train.

Blushing slightly, Hermione sat
back down and said

“Er, Neville, this is my cousin Amelia”,
this was met by one intrigued glance and several weak smiles, “Mel,
this is Neville Longbottom,
he’s in our year.”

“Hi” nodded Mel as he peered at
her; sitting down, she glanced at Harry and said “You look a bit peaky, I take
it those floaty bas- things came down this way too”, dismissing Hermione’s
shock at her near bad language with a look and putting a comforting arm around
Ginny, who was gently vibrating with fear. “You all ok?”

Harry,
who looked to be the least OK of everyone, nodded.

“Are you sure you’re OK, Harry?”
said Hermione, watching him anxiously.

“I don’t get it… what happened?”
said Harry, wiping the sweat off his face.

“Well – that thing – the Dementor
– stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn’t see its
face) – and you – you –”

“I thought you were having a fit
or something,” said Ron, who still looked
scared. “You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching
–”

“And Professor
Lupin stepped over you, and walked towards
the Dementor, and pulled out his wand,” said Hermione. “And he said, ‘None of
us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the Dementor didn’t move,
so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it,
and it turned around and sort of glided away…”

“It was horrible,” said Neville
in a strangely high voice. “Did you feel how cold it went when it came in?”

“I felt weird,” said Ron,
shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “Like I’d never be cheerful again…”

Ginny, who was huddled between Ron
and Amelia looking nearly as bad as Harry
did, gave a small sob. Amelia gave her shoulders
another squeeze.

“But didn’t any of you – fall off
your seats?” said Harry, awkwardly.

“No,” said Ron,
looking anxiously at Harry again. “Ginny was
shaking like mad, though…”

Amelia
felt for the boy.

“Elspeth, the trolley witch, had
a bit of a funny turn up front,” she said. “And to be honest, I didn’t feel all
that fabulous.”

“Er,” said Neville, looking
curiously from Hermione to Amelia, “How come
you’re –”

“On a train full of witches?” Amelia
finished, smiling. “I’m joining the teaching staff this year – Muggle Studies”.

He frowned slightly. “But I
thought Hermione said that she was the only witch in the family.”

Mel
and Hermione’s eyes met briefly “It’s a long story.”

They looked up as the compartment
door slid open: Professor Lupin
had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around and said, with a small
smile, I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know…”

Harry
took a bite and some of his colour returned; Amelia
was mildly impressed.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten
minutes,” said Professor Lupin.
“Are you all right, Harry?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, clearly
embarrassed

0o0o0o0

They didn’t talk much during the
remainder of the journey, Amelia choosing to
stay with her cousin and Ginny. At long last the train stopped at Hogsmeade
station, and there was a great scramble to get out; owls hooted, cats miaowed,
and Neville’s pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat, earning a surprised
look from Amelia. The boy hurried away,
blushing. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy
sheets.

Amelia
and the dilapidated professor hung back to avoid the crush. Shifting his suitcase,
he offered his hand, saying “Professor Remus
Lupin.”

“Amelia
Brown,” she replied, as they shook. “I
suppose I’m a Professor too, now.”

His smile broadened.

“New?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Me too. Defence Against the Dark Arts, you?”

“Muggle Studies,” she replied,
smiling back.

“Shall we?”

The crush outside the train
appeared to be thinning. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulders, Amelia
followed the Professor out of the train, where their luggage was removed for
transport. Her new colleague nodded courteously at the greasy-haired man
overseeing the chaos.

“Coaches again, Argus?”

The man scowled and waved them
onto a muddy track where several hundred coaches were waiting to take the
students up to the castle. The coaches were being pulled by some of the strangest
creatures Amelia had ever seen; a kind of cross
between a horse, a dragon and a corpse. The nearest one whinnied at her in
greeting.

“Miss
Brown?” Starting, Mel
realised she’d been staring at the beasts and that Lupin was holding the door
of the nearest coach open for her. Mentally shaking herself she apologised to
her new colleague and allowed him to pull her up into the coach, which set off
with a lurch. Noticing his curious look, Amelia
enquired:

“What were those things?”

“Pulling the coaches?”

“Yeah. They’re a little creepy.”

Lupin nodded.

“Not everyone can see them, only
those who’ve witnessed death. They’re called Thestrals.”

“Oh,” she said, and thought for a
moment. “But you can see them too?”

Lupin nodded and smiled a little
sadly. Amelia looked away then, feeling she’d
crossed some sort of line. They sat in silence for a few minutes, but Mel
could feel his eyes on her. He was taking in her freshly tailored robes,
smart(ish) appearance, authoritative air and incongruously messy blonde hair;
he noticed the flash of a green scarf under her robes. It appeared to have
skulls on it.

She was quite pretty, he mused,
if a little odd.

Amelia
glanced back at him as he turned to look out of the window. He was wearing an
extremely shabby set of wizards’ robes, which had been darned in several
places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though he seemed quite young, his
light-brown hair was already flecked with silver. He was quite handsome, she
decided, in a bookish kind of way. Besides, she thought, I’ve turned up
for work like that for much of the past decade.

He looked back at her then, and
she saw that none of the outward appearance of tiredness had reached his
blue-grey eyes. She smiled, embarrassed and looked once more out of the window.
She’d been about to turn back again when the turrets of a great castle slipped
into view from behind the trees, tiny golden lights shining into the darkness.
She gasped.

“It’s beautiful!” Lupin looked
out at the castle and then back at his new colleague.

“You didn’t study here?” he
asked, perplexed.

“Er, no,” said Amelia,
tearing her eyes from the castle to look at Lupin. “I – it’s a long story,” she
said, and filled him in on her mother’s no-nonsense approach. She took off her dark
purple gloves as she spoke and stowed them in her pocket, revealing nails
painted an unlikely shade of blue.

He smiled at her. “You’re one
interesting witch, Professor Brown.”

“Thank you Professor
Lupin, but as we’re going to be working
together, perhaps you could call me Amelia.”

He inclined his head.

“In which case Amelia,
I would be delighted if you would call me Remus.”

Amelia
grinned at him as their carriage rolled to a halt. Remus got out of the coach
before her and offered his hand for support as she climbed down. As their hands
touched, Mel’s mind flashed in that perplexing
way it sometimes did on contact. She could see the full moon through the trees,
as though she was moving at speed; could feel heat and sweat and pain; could
taste the hot iron tang of blood in her mouth. As soon as she’s felt it the
sensation was gone and she was stood, staring at a bewildered Remus.

Mel
realised that she was still holding his hand and snatched it back from him as
if burnt. He was about to ask if she was alright when they heard raised voices
from the carriage in front of them. She stared at him as he dismissed a
spiteful looking blond teenager, who had been abusing Hermione and her friends,
along. There was no doubt about it. She could see it in the way he moved, like
a shadow clinging to him. Even his half-smile was a little wolfish as he turned
back to Amelia.

She forced a smile and joined him
in the crowd pressing towards the castle doors. As he led her up the steps she
reflected that his condition could be perfectly ordinary in this world and
decided not to hold it against such an apparently kind man. At the top of the
stairs he turned to look at her, a little worriedly, but his new friend was
smiling broadly once more. Encouraged, he smiled back.

“This is the Great Hall – we’ll
be eating up at the top table I imagine. The ceiling’s enchanted of course…”

Amelia
glanced up at the ceiling which was, sure enough, a perfect reflection of the
storms outside. The Great Hall was magnificent, she thought. Forgetting herself
for a moment, she mused: “How on Earth do the candles stay up?”

Remus looked at her in obvious
amusement.

“Did no one tell you? We can do
magic here.”

She glared a little at his
playful smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards all the same.

0o0

A familiar elderly yet
surprisingly spry wizard approached the two of them as they made their way up
the hall.

“Ah Remus, it’s good to see you
again. You’re up by Severus and Filius. Amelia,
if you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to Pomona.
I trust you had a pleasant journey – yes I heard about the Dementors.”

“It was certainly eventful, Sir,”
she replied, a little shyly, smiling at the twinkle in the Headmaster’s blue
eyes.

“Please, call me Albus. This is
Pomona Sprout – Herbology,” he said, indicating a cheerfully rotund witch of
about fifty, who offered her hand to Amelia. “Pomona,
this is Amelia Brown,
our new Muggle Studies Professor. You’ll be between Pomona
and Minerva – she’ll be along in a moment.” With that he swept
to the middle of the table, a vision in deep purple. Pomona
looked her new acquaintance up and down and apparently approved of what she
saw, slapping Mel on the back and laughing
heartily as she indicated the chair to her left.

“Try not to look so worried,
lass,” she said as Amelia unbuckled her
travelling cloak and sat down.

“First day of school,” Amelia
said. “Always did this to me.”

Pomona
smiled, warmly, and offered her a glass of damson wine, which she gratefully
accepted.

“Just stand up when Albus says
your name and give a little bow. You can worry about everything else tomorrow.”

Amelia
reflected that this was probably the best approach as Dumbledore stood up and
called for silence.

“I would like to introduce: the
Sorting Hat!”

A three-legged stool was sat in
front of the high table, on top of which was perched an old and battered
wizard’s hat. Amelia leaned forwards eagerly;
Hermione’s description of the sorting had been intriguing. The staff watched as
the first years were led into the Great Hall, sorted into the four noble houses
and took their seats with evident relief. As a tiny wizard with a shock of dark
hair carried the hat and stool out of the hall, Amelia
saw Harry and Hermione take their seats, the
latter giving her cousin a reassuring smile. She looked up as an austere
looking witch took her seat beside Amelia,
smiling slightly at her new colleague.

Dumbledore stood once more to
address the hall; Amelia smiled as the first
years stared at his curious appearance. He had several feet of long silver hair
and beard, half-moon spectacles and an extremely crooked nose. He had, she’d
noticed, an extraordinary capacity for putting people at their ease.

“Welcome!” said Dumbledore, the
candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I
have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I
think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our
excellent feast…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and
continued. “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts
Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of
Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

He paused, and Amelia
remembered what Arthur had said about Dumbledore
not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school.

“They are stationed at every
entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I
must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors
are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he
added, blandly. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia
saw Harry and Ron
exchange a glance. “It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand
pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no
reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to
make sure that no student runs foul of the Dementors.

Percy
Weasley, sat in the middle of the Gryffindor
table, puffed out his chest and stared around impressively; Amelia
rolled her eyes, then fervently hoped that no one had noticed. Dumbledore
paused again; he looked very seriously around the Great Hall, and nobody moved
or made a sound.

“On a happier note,” he
continued. “I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year.

“Firstly, Professor
Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the
post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There was some scattered, rather
unenthusiastic, applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the
train with him clapped hard, Amelia among them.
Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best
robes.

“Secondly, Professor
Brown, who has agreed to join us as Muggle
Studies teacher.”

To her surprise, Amelia
received a somewhat warmer reception than Lupin – particularly from the Weasley
family – but mostly from the male half of the room, much to her amusement.
Several of the older girls glared at her.

“As to our third new
appointment,” Dumbledore continued. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor
Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures
teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his
remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled
by none other that Rubeus Hagrid,
who has agreed to take on this teaching role in addition to his game-keeping
duties.”

The applause for Hagrid was
tumultuous. Amelia glanced along the table to
see an enormous, enormously hairy man turn bright red and grin into his beard.
She grinned, from what Hermione had told her, he’d be perfect for the job.

“Well, I think that’s everything
of importance,” said Dumbledore. “Let the feast begin!”

The golden plates and goblets
before them filled suddenly with food and drink, all of it delicious. The hall
soon echoed with talk, laughter and the clatter of knives and forks. As she
ate, Amelia chatted with Minerva
and Pomona and soon found herself
relaxing into her position at the top table. This might not be too bad after
all.

As the plates were cleared away –
magically again, Amelia noticed – Hermione and
her friends picked their way over to Hagrid in order to congratulate him.
Hermione called over to her cousin while the three of them were shooed away by Minerva.

“I’ll see you tomorrow – good
luck!” she gave Mel a big grin.

On Pomona’s
questioning look she explained, “Hermione’s my cousin – I’m keeping an eye on
her.”