"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"You must train your mind to be stronger than your emotions or else you'll lose yourself every time."
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The rain thickened as the Hogwarts Express sped farther north; the windows were now awash with a solid, shimmering gray, gradually darkening until lanterns flickered to life along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, rain hammered against the glass, and the wind roared, but still, Professor R.J. Lupin slept, his head leaning against the window as though undisturbed by the storm raging outside.
"We must be nearly there," Ron murmured, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin and out the pitch-black window. But as soon as the words left his mouth, the train began to slow down, a low rumbling that sent a ripple of unease through their compartment.
"That can't be right," Jupiter muttered, glancing at her watch. It read around five. A horrible sensation twisted in her stomach, a chill that seemed to seep through her skin and settle in her bones. Something was wrong.
"Why are we stopping? We can't be there yet," Hermione said quietly. Harry, closest to the door, stood and peered out into the corridor, but just then, the train came to a jarring halt, throwing him backward into their row of seats.
Jupiter braced herself, though her heart skipped as he landed against her. She forced herself to ignore the rush of butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, pushing himself upright and into his seat, his cheeks faintly pink. Before anyone could say another word, the lanterns suddenly went out, plunging them into total darkness. Jupiter silently thanked the dark, grateful Harry couldn't see the blush creeping up her cheeks.
"What's going on?" Ron asked, his voice tense and high-pitched.
"Ouch!" Hermione gasped. "Ron, that was my foot."
"Do you think we've broken down?" Ron's voice was barely a whisper now.
"Dunno," Harry replied, his tone uncertain.
There was a squeaking noise as Ron wiped a patch clean on the now-frosted window. "There's something moving out there," he whimpered, his voice trembling. "I think people are coming aboard."
"Quiet!" A hoarse voice hissed. Professor Lupin had woken up. With a soft, crackling noise, a shivering light filled the compartment; he appeared to be holding a handful of flames. His tired, lined face was cast in eerie shadows, but his eyes looked sharp and alert. "Stay where you are," he commanded, voice firm, and he rose slowly, holding the flames aloft.
Before he could reach the door, it slid open with a slow, ominous creak. In the doorway, bathed in the flickering light of Lupin's flames, stood a towering figure cloaked in black, its face obscured beneath a hood. As Jupiter's eyes trailed downward, she saw its hand—a glistening, grayish, slimy, and scabbed hand, like something dead that had been left to rot underwater. It was a Dementor.
