They immediately sensed something was wrong and tried to retreat from the train—only to hear a cold laugh echo through the corridor.
"Didn't want to leave earlier? Then don't bother leaving at all now."
Dark creatures couldn't be killed, but that didn't mean wizards were powerless against them. There were always certain spells that could be used to repel or even force them into a state of dormancy and rebirth.
Since these monsters had physical forms, there was a much more direct method of dealing with them...
Woosh!
Tangible magic burst from Rhys's body, coiling around the three creatures.
Realizing something was wrong, the monsters struggled desperately, but the magical forces wrapped around them were like a swamp, dragging them down the more they resisted.
One of the creatures, sensing imminent danger, hastily pulled a scroll of parchment from within its cloak and began repeating the words "Ministry of Magic" in an extremely bizarre accent.
But things had already gone too far—unless they muttered a name like "Godric," Rhys wasn't going to stop.
He raised his hands to chest level, then made a tearing motion. In the next instant, a surge of magic exploded outward, ripping the creatures into pieces.
Foul, evil energy poured from their torn bodies, but Rhys was prepared. His magic shifted again, wrapping around the filth and sealing it within.
Rhys looked up at the ceiling of the corridor and noticed a skylight right above his head.
He waved his hand, and the skylight sprang open. Wrapped in his magic, the monsters' remains were tossed out through the opening and gradually dissolved into black smoke under the freezing rain.
Sss...
The only traces left of the three creatures were the faint stench of rot lingering in the air, the residual chill that had yet to fully dissipate, and a piece of parchment lying on the floor.
Rhys knew they would eventually revive somewhere—most likely in their lair. But would the resurrected creatures still be the same three as before?
Like the Ship of Theseus—would they still be them after coming back?
Rhys considered it a philosophical question. As a wizard, he wasn't particularly inclined to ponder such things. What he was good at was sending these monsters to be revived.
He closed the skylight to prevent rain from soaking the floor, then bent down and picked up the parchment. He saw the seal of the Ministry of Magic printed on it.
It was an authorization form, stating that the Ministry of Magic had authorized Dementors to search the Hogwarts Express in pursuit of the fugitive Sirius Black.
Only now did Rhys realize that the creatures he had just torn apart were called "Dementors."
He also understood why no train staff had intervened—this was all under orders from the Ministry.
Absolutely outrageous!
Searching the train for a fugitive was one thing—but where were the Ministry officials?
They just let several dark creatures board a train full of students without any precautions?
If he and Helga hadn't been on board, who knew what might've happened? Did the Ministry even realize that wizards were actually on the Dementors' menu? And they had no real means to restrain them?
A wave of dissatisfaction with the Ministry began to rise in Rhys's heart.
Boom!
Just then, a loud explosion rang out from the rear of the train—Rhys was fairly certain that was Helga in action. He shrugged and made his way back to his own compartment.
Meanwhile, Hufflepuff stood at the rear of the train with a grim expression. Beside her was a massive hole through which cold, fresh air and raindrops poured in, helping suppress the foul stench left behind by the destroyed Dementor.
Hufflepuff sighed—she hadn't expected that even a thousand years later, wizards were still plagued by dark creatures.
At this point, she had no idea that those Dementors had been sent by the Ministry of Magic...
With a flick of her wand, she repaired the wall that had been blown apart, then turned and opened the door to a nearby compartment at the end of the train.
Inside were three young wizards. One of them, a red-haired boy, looked like he was just badly shaken, but the other two were in much worse condition.
A red-haired girl had curled up in the corner of the compartment, trembling all over. The black-haired boy was lying unconscious on the floor, his face pale and drenched in sweat, as though he were experiencing something extremely painful.
The three in the compartment were Harry, Ron, and Ginny.
"Professor, you—" Seeing that Hufflepuff had dealt with the monster that had broken in, Ron looked up, his face filled with anxiety. "Please, take a look at Harry—!"
"Step aside, please," Hufflepuff said gently, soothing the red-haired boy as she lightly pushed him out of the way. Then she picked up the unconscious Harry from the floor.
After briefly checking his physical condition, Hufflepuff found that he was not seriously harmed. The only issue was that the impact from the dark creature had been too strong, resulting in his fainting.
She took a small crystal vial from her robes, pried open Harry's tightly shut mouth with some effort, and forced the liquid inside.
Harry's expression quickly became peaceful, though Ron still looked anxious.
"A calming draught," Hufflepuff explained. "Mediocre in potency, but thankfully very gentle—he's just like someone who's fallen asleep now." She took out her wand again and pointed it at Harry; the cold sweat that had just covered his body vanished, and even his clothes returned to a dry state.
"A clever little everyday spell. I'll teach it to you all later," Hufflepuff said gently, using her warm tone to soothe the young wizards in the compartment.
After confirming that Harry was indeed fine, she helped him onto the seat and then softly comforted the red-haired girl who was still trembling.
Her voice carried a hint of magic, one that could quickly stabilize emotions. Once the girl had also returned to normal, Helga finally awakened Harry.
"Where am I…? What just happened?" Harry opened his eyes, a trace of confusion flashing through them.
Ron gave him a quick summary of what had happened. After listening, Harry turned his gaze toward Hufflepuff, who was standing off to the side.
"Smith White, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Helga said with a slight smile, introducing herself to the three.
At the words "Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, a curious light flickering in their eyes.
Someone like her, coming to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts—it really seemed like a waste of talent.
"Here, drink this," Hufflepuff said as she pulled out a cup from her robes. Without her doing anything else, the cup was immediately filled with a dark red liquid.
Harry took the cup and drank it all in one go. He immediately felt a warm sensation spread throughout his body, though he couldn't help but think the drink tasted rather strange.
"Red wine, boiled with various spices, plus a few potion ingredients—it's a recipe a friend gave me. Good for driving out the cold, warming the body, detoxifying and beautifying, and also for easing the mood."
Seeing Harry's odd expression, Hufflepuff gave him a simple explanation of what was in the drink.
Harry nodded dizzily, thinking to himself that this professor really seemed to know quite a lot.
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