The Great Hall was bright with floating candles, their light steady despite the storm rolling across the enchanted ceiling. The long tables were filled, students talking in low voices as the last of the Sorting came to an end.
The Sorting Hat was placed back on its stool. The new first years moved nervously to their tables, greeted with applause that faded as attention shifted forward.
At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore rose.
The hall quieted.
"Welcome," he said, "to another year at Hogwarts."
A few cheers answered, brief and scattered.
"I have a few notices to give before we begin our feast." He folded his hands.
"As many of you will already be aware, the Ministry of Magic has taken certain measures this year in response to a recent event. A dangerous individual has escaped from Azkaban."
A ripple moved through the hall.
"Sirius Black is believed to be somewhere within the country, and it is thought he may attempt to come to Hogwarts."
The hall grew quieter.
"In light of this, the Ministry has stationed Dementors around the school grounds. They will guard all entrances and patrol the perimeter."
Murmurs broke out across the tables.
"They will not enter the castle," Dumbledore said, his voice cutting through the noise. "However, they are not to be approached. Dementors do not distinguish between those they guard and those they encounter."
"They do not understand excuses. They do not respond to reason. Any attempt to interfere with them will be met with consequences you would be wise to avoid."
The silence held.
"But enough of that," he said, a faint warmth returning to his voice. "A few introductions are in order."
He turned toward the staff table.
"This year, we welcome a new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts — Professor Remus Lupin."
A man at the table gave a small nod as scattered applause rose. His robes were worn, his appearance modest, but there was something composed about him that stood out.
"You will also notice that Rubeus Hagrid has taken on a new role this year. He will be your new Care of Magical Creatures professor."
Hagrid sat a little straighter, looking both proud and slightly overwhelmed.
Cheers rose from several tables — loudest from Gryffindor — while others clapped with curiosity or mild surprise. He gave an awkward wave, his beard shifting as he tried not to look too pleased.
Dumbledore let the noise settle before he spoke again.
"And now," he said, spreading his hands slightly, "before we begin, it seems only fair to acknowledge a particular incident that occurred on the journey here."
"As many of you may have noticed, the Hogwarts Express was delayed," he continued, his eyes glinting faintly. "This was due to an unexpected inspection by Dementors."
"In that situation, one student demonstrated presence of mind — and ability — that prevented the matter from becoming considerably worse."
The attention sharpened.
Dumbledore's gaze moved, settling without hesitation.
"Victor Malfoy."
The name carried clearly across the hall.
"For producing a Patronus under pressure, and ensuring the safety of those in his compartment — and beyond — you have my thanks."
Scattered applause rose and grew as more joined in, carrying a mix of surprise and curiosity.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron stared.
"He didn't say it covered the whole train," he muttered, somewhere between impressed and confused.
Harry said nothing. His expression said enough.
Dumbledore inclined his head.
"Such magic is not easily performed," he added quietly. "Especially at your age."
He let the moment pass.
"And now," he said, "let us eat."
The reaction hadn't fully settled when Draco turned toward Victor, his expression less curious and more irritated.
"How did you even learn that?" he asked. "Don't tell me you just woke up one day and decided to cast a Patronus."
A few Slytherins nearby leaned in.
Victor didn't rush to answer. He finished what he was doing, then looked at Draco, expression unchanged.
"Summer," he said. "I had time."
Draco frowned.
"That doesn't explain anything. No one our age just learns that."
Victor shrugged lightly.
"I wasn't doing anything important. Thought I'd try it."
Draco stared at him.
"You're saying you learned a Patronus while — what, passing time?"
"More or less," Victor said. "I worked hard at it."
That didn't improve Draco's mood.
"Don't give me that. Who taught you — Father?"
"No."
"Then you learned it alone?" Draco said. "By yourself?"
"Yes."
"You should also try it sometime, Draco." Victor's tone was pleasant, almost helpful.
"Though given how dim you are, I'd keep expectations low. Dementors have taste — and you'd be exactly what they're looking for. Very well-fed. They'd have you before you even registered the cold, and they wouldn't stop until there was nothing left worth taking."
He said it with a ghostly calm that landed worse than any shout would have. Draco, confident enough until that moment, flinched.
"Are you even my brother?" he muttered, shoving Victor's arm. "What is wrong with you?"
"I'm absolutely your brother," Victor said, unbothered. "Which means I can say whatever I want to you." He picked up his fork. "Bear with it."
*****
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