Was it just her or was it getting cooler? Sybille shivered despite the relative heat of the day, suddenly wishing she had worn a sweater or her cloak. Goosepimples rose on her arms as they heard the sound of something. In one step Mr. Fudge was before her, even as she reached for her own wand. But a frown crossed her lips at his words, she had rather hoped he could handle it.

Before them a black cloaked thing rounded a tree, surprising the beginning of a scream from Sybille before she could cut it off. Had she not suddenly felt as if every member of her family had abandoned her, crushing the weight of her multiple heartbreaks on her, Sybille would have had the presence of mind to identify the thing as a dementor and to know, with a trembling terror, that she had never been able to cast a patronus. But as it was she could only thing of every horrible thing that had faced her in her young face, unaware, even, of the silent tears streaming down her face.