Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 520 521: The Encounter

Sean was the first to board the train. Professor McGonagall's gaze remained

fixed on the scarlet engine, tracking him until his silhouette flashed past a

window. Only then did she allow herself to vanish from the platform with a soft

pop.

Near the third pillar, where she had been standing, Mrs. Weasley gave Harry an

extra, lingering hug. Harry felt a bit embarrassed by the public display of

affection, but a warm glow of happiness settled in his chest nonetheless.

"Do take care of yourself, won't you, Harry?" she said, her eyes shimmering with

a strange, protective light. She reached into her massive floral handbag. "I've

made sandwiches for everyone. Be sure to give this one to the Green boy... it's

quite peculiar how often he and Minerva are together lately. Here you go, Harry,

and one for you, Ron... no, that's not the corned beef... Fred? Where's Fred?

Here, dear..."

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Could I have

a word? Over here."

He jerked his head toward a nearby pillar. Harry followed him into the shadows,

while the others followed Sean's trail onto the train.

On the Hogwarts Express.

Sean walked down the narrow corridor. They weren't late, but most of the

compartments were already full, save for those at the very end of the train.

"Sean—slow down, would you?"

Justin was the first to catch up, followed closely by Hermione, who was lugging

a wicker pet basket. Sean paused at a door and gestured for them to enter.

The compartment was occupied by only one person: a man sitting by the window,

fast asleep. Justin and Hermione hovered at the door, peering in curiously. The

Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students; aside from the witch with

the food trolley, they had never seen another adult on the train.

The stranger was wearing a set of extremely shabby wizard's robes that had been

mended in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though he didn't look

old, his light brown hair was already flecked with streaks of grey.

"Who do you suppose he is?" Hermione whispered as they slid the door shut and

took the seats furthest from the window.

"That's our Manager," Justin said brightly.

"What manager?" Hermione blinked, confused.

Before Justin could explain, the door burst open as Harry, Ron, and Neville

piled in.

"Found you!" Ron said, looking relieved.

The compartments were spacious, but fitting six students was a squeeze. However,

since Ron and the others had stowed their heavy trunks in the neighboring

compartment, they managed to settle in for a visit.

"Sandwiches," Harry said, remembering Mrs. Weasley's instructions.

"Steak and kidney! Thanks, Harry," Justin said, taking his package with a grin.

"Blueberry..." Hermione noted happily, peering at her own.

The group turned their eyes to Sean. Without a doubt, his sandwich had been

specially prepared—it was practically a miniature pumpkin pasty, his favorite.

Sean tucked it away carefully.

"Who's the sleeper?" Ron asked, nodding toward the slumped figure.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," Justin whispered immediately.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked puzzled too. Hadn't Justin just called him a "Manager"? She knew

Sean and Justin owned a bookshop, but the "Old Manager" there was a mysterious

man who usually wore a deep hood and spent his days organizing shelves. She'd

heard he was leaving soon and had been conducting high-intensity interviews for

a successor. Rumor had it his standards were impossibly high.

"Is he from Green's Bookshop...?" Hermione started to ask.

"It's on his case," Justin interrupted, pointing to the luggage rack above the

man's head.

There sat a small, battered suitcase held together by a vast quantity of neatly

knotted string. The name Professor R.J. Lupin was stamped on one corner in

peeling silver letters. The case looked like it was one bump away from falling

apart, yet it was entwined with curious, pulsing green vines. Every time the

train lurched and the suitcase threatened to warp, the vines tightened, holding

the frame steady.

It was a masterclass in Transfiguration. No one in the room knew who had cast

it, except for Lupin himself and...

"Oh, Sean, look at that work... I know it was you," Justin said with a

mock-resentful sigh. "Honestly, it's not fair."

"Your trunk isn't broken, Justin," Sean replied simply.

"I could break it," Justin joked, his eyes bright.

"Oh, honestly—" Hermione huffed.

"Wonder what he teaches?" Ron asked, eyeing Professor Lupin's lifeless form with

skepticism.

"That's obvious," Hermione whispered. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there?

Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The students had already gone through two DADA teachers in two years. Rumor had

it—mostly fueled by Hagrid—that the job was jinxed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," Ron said doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex

from an old crone would finish him off, doesn't he?"

Even Hermione frowned at that. They had worked hard to get rid of a fraud like

Lockhart; replacing him with a "Bookshop Manager" didn't exactly inspire

confidence in their academic future.

"Sean..." Hermione turned to the one person who always knew more than he let on.

"What do you think?"

"Mr. Lupin is more than capable," Sean said.

"Really?" Hermione looked pleasantly surprised. She opened her mouth to ask

more, but Ron cut her off.

"So, Sean, are you coming to Hogsmeade with us this year? If we all stick

together," Ron said excitedly, "Black won't dare—"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, stop being thick," Hermione snapped, her temper

flaring. "Black murdered a whole street full of people in broad daylight. Do you

really think he's going to be scared off just because a few thirteen-year-olds

are standing there?"

As she spoke, she absentmindedly fiddled with the latch on Crookshanks's basket.

"Stop that! You're going to open it—don't let that monster out!" Ron warned.

Too late. Crookshanks squeezed through the gap, let out a long stretch and a

yawn, and leaped directly onto Ron's lap. The bulge in Ron's pocket began to

vibrate with terror.

"Get off!" Ron hissed, shoving the cat away.

"Ron! Don't be so mean!" Hermione cried.

Ron was about to snap back when Professor Lupin suddenly shifted. They all

froze, watching him anxiously, but the man merely turned his head the other way,

his mouth slightly open, and continued his deep sleep.

The Hogwarts Express thundered north, and the scenery outside the window grew

increasingly wild and desolate. As the clouds thickened overhead, the day began

to fade into a premature, gloomy twilight.

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