prynovel Chapter 242 Badges and Dementors
Chapter 242 Badges and Dementors
Chapter 242 Badges and Dementors (5K) (2/2)
"Of course, I'll remember your broom," Lin Qi replied gently.
Just then, as if he suddenly realized something, he paused slightly, turned his head to one side involuntarily, and stared sharply in a certain direction in the middle and rear of the train, as if piercing through the swirling steam and the noisy crowd.
Harry followed his gaze and turned to look, but apart from the bustling crowd, the swirling white steam, and the deep red carriage walls, he saw nothing special.
"Uncle Lynch, what are you looking at?"
Lynch withdrew his gaze, smiled slightly at Harry, and there seemed to be a hint of understanding in that smile: "It's nothing, I just saw someone—someone I could call acquaintance."
His tone was nonchalant, clearly indicating he didn't intend to elaborate.
Although Harry was curious, seeing that Lynch didn't intend to say more, he suppressed his urge to ask further.
He lifted the handle of his suitcase, and Hedwig cooed twice in the cage: "Then I'll get in the car first!"
"Wait, Harry," Lynch called out to him.
Harry stopped and turned around.
Lin Qi then took out the Stone Tower Merchant Guild badge that had been taken away the previous night from the inside pocket of his well-tailored suit.
The badge gleamed with a dull metallic sheen against the platform sky, and the clenched fist pointing to the sky on it seemed clearer than before.
"Here, take this." Lin Qi handed over the badge.
Harry took it with some surprise: "I thought this was only for Chamber of Commerce employees."
"Keep this as a souvenir," Lin Qi said with a slight smile, his tone calm. "After all, you were a member of the Stone Tower Chamber of Commerce during this holiday."
Harry looked down at the badge in his palm; it was cold to the touch, and the patterns on it seemed clearer and more vivid than he remembered.
"However," Lynch changed the subject, lowering his voice and adding a touch of seriousness, "I've made some minor modifications to this badge."
He extended his finger and gently touched the unique "fist pointing to the sky" mark in the center of the badge.
"Remember, Harry, if—I hope this never happens—but if you ever find yourself in some extremely dangerous situation and feel like you can't get out on your own or with the people around you, pinch this mark hard with your thumbnail."
Harry held his breath and listened intently.
"You'll feel the badge vibrate slightly once." Lynch paused briefly, as if searching for the right words, "Then it will send me a clear signal. Wherever I am, as long as I sense this signal, I will get to you as quickly as possible."
Harry gripped the badge tightly, feeling a slight warmth creep into the cold metal.
At this moment, it is not just a souvenir, but also a powerful talisman.
"I understand," Harry nodded solemnly, carefully placing the badge into the inside pocket of his robe, pressing it tightly against his chest. "Thank you, Uncle Lynch."
"I hope it will always just be a memento." Lynch patted him on the shoulder, his tone softening. "Go on, the train is about to leave."
"Okay!" Harry gave Lynch a reassuring smile, turned around, dragged his luggage, and boarded the Hogwarts Express with Ron's help.
Lynch stood there, watching the carriage doors close, his gaze once again sweeping across the far end of the train: "So Dumbledore asked you to be his bodyguard for this trip... that's quite fitting."
As the train rounded the bend, the platform and the gray figure standing there completely disappeared from sight.
In an empty compartment at the rear of the train, a middle-aged man, dressed in slightly worn clothes and looking tired, slowly turned his gaze away from the window.
Lupin leaned back in his slightly worn chair and took a deep breath, as if trying to dispel the tension he had felt just moments before.
"Such astonishing vigilance—" he murmured to himself, his voice tinged with admiration and seriousness.
Even from such a distance, amidst such a noisy environment, I was only slightly moved by seeing him say goodbye to Harry, and stared at him for a little longer than expected, yet the other person accurately picked up on my direction.
That little boy who used to silently follow behind Lily and Snape, seemingly insignificant and even somewhat aloof, has now grown into someone so unfathomable.
The image of a thin boy with black hair and black eyes that he had occasionally glimpsed in the corridors of Hogwarts many years ago flashed through his mind. He was often alone or quietly following behind the passionate Lily and the gloomy and sensitive Snape, like a blurry background.
At that time, Lin Qi also showed unusual quietness and precociousness, but who could have imagined that the child who seemed to need protection would grow into a powerful existence that even he found frightening?
As time goes by, things change and people change.
As the old friends have passed away, the new generation, along with those who were once insignificant "bystanders," have quietly risen to the forefront of the times.
He sighed softly, a mixture of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion), 警警 (jǐngmǐng, a feeling of vigilance), and a complex emotion that was hard to describe, and turned his gaze to the scenery rushing past outside the window.
On the other side, Harry and Ron struggled to drag their luggage through the crowded carriages, with Hermione following closely behind, carrying the restless Crookshanks.
They walked all the way to the very end of the train before finally finding a somewhat secluded compartment.
"There seems to be an empty seat here!" Ron said, reaching out to push the door open.
"Wait, Ron!" Harry grabbed him abruptly, lowered his voice, and looked warily into the box.
With Sirius Black currently in prison and his target potentially being himself, he is extremely wary of any stranger.
In the corner of the private room, a man was leaning against the window, seemingly asleep.
He wore an extremely worn-out, even patched, wizard's robe, his face mostly obscured by his loose, grayish-brown hair, looking exhausted and travel-worn. A small, equally old-looking suitcase sat on the luggage rack beside him.
"Who is he?" Ron immediately tensed up, muttering under his breath, "He doesn't look like a student's parent. Could he be someone suspicious?"
Hermione leaned closer, scrutinizing the sleeping man and his worn-out trunk. Her keen eyes caught a slightly tattered luggage tag attached to the trunk. She squinted, trying to decipher the writing on it.
“Look there,” she said very softly, pointing to the label, “the name on the box—it’s Professor RJ Lupin.”
"Professor?" Harry and Ron exclaimed in unison, their voices trembling with surprise. They had no recollection of the surname, but the title "Professor" immediately eased their tension.
“Oh, it’s the professor,” Ron’s tone immediately lightened, even becoming somewhat dismissive. “That’s fine then. But—” He glanced again at the patches on the man’s robes and his haggard face, lowering his voice, “His attire is really appalling; it looks even more worn than Hagrid’s mole-skin coat. Are you sure he’s the professor, Hermione? Did he somehow manage to get on the train?”
"Ron!" Hermione glared at him, but couldn't help glancing again at his patched robes, her tone uncertain. "The label does say 'Professor'—maybe—maybe his family is struggling financially? Or maybe he just doesn't care much about his appearance?"
"Whatever, at least he's a professor, better than some unknown stranger." Harry said, though he was also a little curious about the professor's somewhat disheveled appearance, the fact that he was a "professor" did put him at ease. He gently pushed open the door first, and the three of them slipped in as quietly as possible, carefully taking their seats opposite each other and settling their luggage and Hedwig's cage.
The compartment was silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of the train and Professor Lupin's even breathing. Crookshanks glanced lazily at the stranger before losing interest and settling into a comfortable position on Hermione's lap.
Despite some private gossip about the new professor's appearance, the title of "professor" instilled a basic level of trust. The three children gradually returned to normal and began to talk in hushed tones.
Harry's gaze occasionally drifted to the sleeping figure. The gloom in his heart caused by Black's escape had not completely dissipated, but at least for the moment, the carriage was safe.
The train rattled along, the English fields rushing past the window in the sunlight. They shared the sweets Ron had brought back from Egypt and discussed the new school year's lessons, gradually livening up the atmosphere.
"Seriously, Harry," Ron said, tearing open a bag of Chocolate Frogs as he eagerly pressed, "what happened to you at the Stone Tower Merchant Guild in the last few weeks? You only said that Professor Lynch took you in and let you read some books, but what were the specifics?"
What's it like living with someone like him?
His face was full of curiosity; after all, not everyone had the opportunity to live with a professor who was recognized as powerful and mysterious.
Harry sat by the window, organized his thoughts, and his expression became somewhat subtle: "Actually—most of the time it's strange."
He chose his words carefully, "Uncle Lynch, he was indeed always by my side, but actually—he wasn't entirely there."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, his mouth still half-eaten chocolate frog.
Harry glanced at Professor Lupin, who was sleeping in the corner, and decided not to reveal that Uncle Lynch in the Stone Tower was an alternate version of himself, since it was likely a secret that needed to be kept hidden.
"Actually—I didn't see him most of the time. Uncle Lynch always seemed to be busy, either dealing with documents or writing and drawing in his office. But he would always make time to have lunch with me every day." He recalled, "He was a good listener, not very talkative, but what he did say was usually—very helpful."
Hermione's attention was immediately drawn to the word "office." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes shining: "You mentioned before that Professor Lynch's office has a lot of books, and you even saw an introduction to the Fidelity Charm there."
That's incredibly advanced magic. Is his library vast? Does he let you read it freely?
"His study—" Harry tried to recall, "was huge, almost bigger than the Gryffindor common room, with bookshelves reaching the ceiling. Many of the books had titles I couldn't even understand, and some covers even looked like they were made of some kind of metal or leather, and they would wiggle slightly on their own. I couldn't borrow them freely; Uncle Lynch said some spellbooks were too dangerous for me right now. The one about the Fidelity Charm, he specifically found it for me to see; it was very thick, and he only allowed me to read that part."
"Why did he suddenly show you that?" Hermione asked sharply.
Harry's expression darkened slightly, and his voice lowered: "It's because—Sirius Black." The name instantly made the atmosphere in the box heavy. "I was so confused at the time, why Black was my parents' Keeper of the Secret, why he betrayed them. Uncle Lynch didn't answer directly; he just found the book and told me the principle of the Loyalty Charm, saying that once the Keeper of the Secret actively leaks information, the protection completely fails and is irreversible. He also said—" Harry paused, "Some wounds need to be seen clearly before they can begin to heal."
Ron swallowed the chocolate in his mouth, leaned closer and whispered, "Speaking of Blake, I tried to secretly look up some information when I got home, but I couldn't find anything."
Hermione frowned, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I tried to look it up, but the old issues of the Daily Prophet I could find all reported the same thing: Sirius Black was accused of murdering Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, and then he was imprisoned in Azkaban. Other details—like how he actually did it, or his true relationship with your parents—were either vague in the newspapers or just baseless speculation; there wasn't any concrete information." She looked at Harry, her tone apologetic. "I thought I could find more—"
Harry nodded silently.
Although he knew these matters wouldn't be easy to investigate, the scarcity of publicly available information still left him feeling powerless. The truth seemed shrouded in a thick fog.
The atmosphere fell silent for a moment, and Harry gazed gloomily out the window. The sky was now filled with thick, leaden-gray clouds, turning the once bright afternoon into a somber evening.
Just then, the train's clattering rhythm noticeably slowed down, and the wheels groaned as they rubbed against the rails.
The scenery outside the window stopped rushing by and instead came to a slow stop.
"Why did we slow down?" Ron asked, pressing his face against the cold windowpane, trying to see what was happening outside. "This isn't a station."
Hermione frowned, clutching Crookshanks closer to her anxiously. The cat squirmed restlessly on her lap, purring softly. "This isn't right—"
Before the words were even finished, all the lights flickered a few times at the same moment, made a soft "poof" sound, and went out completely!
With a final, heavy metallic sigh, the train came to a complete stop, plunging into deathly silence and utter darkness.
Outside the window was an eerie night so thick it seemed impossible to see through, and even the lights of the distant village had vanished.
Harry felt it the most intensely.
The chill seemed to penetrate directly into his heart, and a deep, suffocating sense of despair began to spread in his chest.
He heard a faint sobbing sound in the distance, like the wind, or perhaps a scream—
Just then, a tall figure, draped in a tattered cloak, seemed to materialize from the deepest darkness and silently slid to the frosted glass door of their private room.
The thing had no face; beneath its hood lay only a hollow darkness that seemed to suck away all light. Wherever it passed, the moisture in the air instantly condensed into frost, spreading eerie ice-flower patterns on the glass door.
Hermione gasped, and Ron let out a scream as if someone had grabbed his neck.
Harry felt his breath freeze.
He couldn't look away, his gaze fixed on the inhuman presence outside the door.
The monster seemed to be staring intently at him as well.
A feeling of being locked in made Harry feel stiff all over.
His vision began to blur, the box spun, and Ron and Hermione's horrified faces became distant. He felt himself sliding off his seat, his limbs cold and numb.
In the final moments before consciousness was about to be completely swallowed up, the instinct for survival triumphed over despair.
With his last ounce of strength, he spasmed his fingers inside his robe, pressing them firmly against the badge.
He pressed his thumb down hard on the raised "fist pointing to the sky" mark with all his might!
A faint yet distinct vibration came from my fingertips.
"No—!" A firm yet slightly hoarse voice suddenly rang out.
The figure who had been sleeping in the opposite corner suddenly stood up, and a bright and steady silver light burst forth from the tip of his wand, instantly dispelling the suffocating chill in the private room.
However, Harry could neither hear nor see clearly anymore.
The boundless darkness completely engulfed him; he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The instant Harry pressed the badge—
Far away in the stone house in the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts, Lynch, standing in front of the fireplace, suddenly turned his head. On the desk, a specially made spyglass was spinning while emitting a sharp whistling sound.
The badge I gave Harry this morning has been triggered!
Without any hesitation, in the top-floor office of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild in Diagon Alley, London, the raven clone clearly chanted the incantation into the quill in his hand: "Mentos!"
The next instant, the air around him rippled like water, the light was briefly distorted and sucked in, and the Raven clone appeared out of thin air in the dark and cold Hogwarts Express compartment, standing right in front of the unconscious Harry.
The moment he appeared, the biting cold that permeated the private room seemed to freeze for a moment.
His appearance was so abrupt, as if he had always been standing there. His well-tailored gray suit stood out conspicuously in the darkness of the private room, completely out of place with the surrounding chaos and chill.
Lynch's dark eyes calmly swept over Harry, who was lying on the ground, pale-faced; Ron and Hermione, terrified and trembling; and Professor Lupin, whose wand tip was gleaming silver, facing him.
as well as..
Behind me, outside the private room, stood a Dementor draped in a tattered cloak, radiating an aura of despair.
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