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Chapter 81
"Seems like I've done something good?" Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Yeah," Pansy replied sourly, "maybe she's even fallen for you."
"Ahem—don't you think the smell in here is a bit strong?" Draco decisively changed the subject, gesturing around the carriage.
Pansy hadn't noticed it before, but once he mentioned it, the unpleasant odor became obvious. A faint stench of mildew mixed with straw filled the carriage, making it feel like an old, remote English farm. Combined with the constant jolting, it made her stomach churn slightly.
"Fresh air," Draco said lightly, flicking his wand.
The stale smell instantly dissipated.
He had to admit—wizards really did have it easier than Muggles in daily life.
Moments later, Draco felt a soft weight lean against his shoulder.
Pansy had fallen asleep again.
She had been utterly exhausted today—mentally and physically drained beyond recovery.
The carriage rolled onward. Ahead stood towering iron gates flanked by stone pillars, one crowned with a winged boar statue. Two tall Dementors cloaked in tattered black hovered beside the entrance, radiating cold gloom that seeped into the air itself.
As they passed, Draco summoned his Patronus again. A soft silver glow filled the carriage, and the Dementors recoiled instinctively, retreating several steps.
"Don't worry," Draco clenched his fist. "You'll all find your proper destination soon enough."
The fate of these foul creatures had already been decided in his mind.
The carriage ascended a sloping road. The Thestral pulling it quickened its pace. Towers and turrets gradually emerged through the darkness until, finally, the carriage came to a halt.
Draco helped Pansy down. Together they climbed the stone steps, passed through the massive oak doors, and entered the grand entrance hall. The magical ceiling above was dimmer than usual, as if its enchantment hadn't fully recovered.
"I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey first," Draco said, noticing how pale Pansy had become. She looked close to fainting.
"Yes," Pansy nodded obediently.
After settling her in the hospital wing, Draco finally had time to attend the Sorting Feast—though it was clearly already over.
Descending the steps into the Great Hall, he immediately saw rows of pointed hats forming a black sea beneath floating candles. Professor Flitwick was just leaving the hall, carrying the ancient Sorting Hat and its three-legged stool.
The ceremony had ended.
Draco walked calmly toward the Slytherin table. Students removed their hats as he passed, some standing instinctively to make room. Even first-years followed suit, copying their seniors without fully understanding why.
"The power of reputation," Draco thought quietly, uncertain whether the feeling in his chest was mockery or something more complex.
At the High Table, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. The hall fell silent.
The headmaster looked as old as ever—yet radiated vitality. His long silver beard shimmered in the candlelight, half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose. To students both old and new, he remained a living legend.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said warmly. "Welcome to Hogwarts for the new school year. I have a few important announcements—one of them quite serious—so I ask for your attention before the feast overwhelms your senses."
He informed the students about the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts, openly expressing his distaste but emphasizing that this was a Ministry mandate. He stressed safety, casting a pointed glance toward several habitual rule-breakers.
Percy Weasley puffed out his chest proudly, clearly enjoying his authority as prefect.
Once the murmuring subsided, Dumbledore continued.
"I am pleased to welcome two new professors this year."
"First, Professor Remus Lupin, who has kindly agreed to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Polite but restrained applause followed—except from the students who had shared Lupin's carriage, who clapped enthusiastically.
Others judged him by appearances alone. Compared to the well-groomed faculty, Lupin's shabby robes earned him little confidence. Only Snape seemed truly attentive—though his stare across the table was anything but friendly.
Snape's expression was twisted with hatred.
If James Potter had been the focus of his deepest loathing, then the rest of that group were hardly spared.
Dumbledore continued, unfazed.
"Our second announcement: Professor Kettleburn retired at the end of last year to spend time with his remaining limbs. I am pleased to announce that Rubeus Hagrid will be assuming the post of Care of Magical Creatures, alongside his duties as Keeper of the Grounds."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged shocked looks—then burst into enthusiastic applause. Gryffindor's table followed suit.
Slytherin's table, however, buzzed with murmurs.
"That guy was once suspected of murder," someone whispered. "How is he qualified to teach?"
Dumbledore raised his voice.
"Silence."
During the holidays, he explained, witnesses—including Madame Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, and Minister Cornelius Fudge—had reviewed the case from fifty years ago.
Hagrid had been declared innocent.
The Daily Prophet would publish the verdict soon—though likely buried.
Ron sighed quietly. "Dad was right about the Ministry…"
Hagrid sat red-faced, staring at his hands. When he noticed the trio watching him, his grin widened beneath his beard.
Draco sighed inwardly.
Hagrid's heart was in the right place—but teaching was another matter entirely.
"Well," Dumbledore concluded, "that's enough seriousness for one evening. Tuck in!"
Golden plates filled instantly with food. Laughter and clattering cutlery echoed through the hall.
Despite the looming Dementors and uncertain professors, the excitement of a new school year washed over everything.
For now, Hogwarts felt alive again.