15. Summertime Funtime
The summer night sky stretched endlessly above Hope and Remus, speckled with shimmering stars. The air was warm but carried a gentle breeze, rustling through the tall grass. Fireflies flickered around the yard, tiny golden sparks that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The world felt quiet out here, just the two of them lying on a soft blanket, staring up at the universe.
Hope let out a slow breath, tracing patterns in the stars with her eyes, though she had no real idea what she was looking at.
"See that one there?" Lupin pointed toward a cluster of bright stars. "That's Orion. You can tell by the three stars in a row—his belt."
Hope sighed not seeing the shape he was pointing out "I'm terrible at astronomy."
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Oh?"
"I mix up the names, I can never find the right stars, and honestly, I think whoever named them was just guessing." She waved vaguely at the sky. "Like, Orion? That's supposed to be a hunter? Where's his bow? His head? It looks more like a lumpy kite."
Lupin smiled. "A very fearsome lumpy kite."
Hope grinned, "I mean, really, who decides these things? Maybe I should start naming stars. That one could be the Lumpy Kite, and over there—" she pointed to a scattering of stars, "—that could be the Upside-Down Goblin."
Lupin chuckled. "That's quite a title."
"Very official," Hope said, nodding. "Professor Sinistra would be thrilled."
Lupin hummed in amusement, but then he gestured toward a bright star, standing out against the rest. "There. That one is Sirius."
Hope followed his gaze, frowning as she tried to pick out the exact star he meant. "The really bright one?"
He nodded. "Brightest in the night sky. Always easy to find."
There was something different in his voice—something distant. Hope glanced at him, taking in the way his gaze lingered on the star, something unreadable in his expression.
"Is Sirius your favorite star?" she asked.
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then, quietly, he said, "I used to stargaze a lot with your mother."
Hope blinked, surprised by the shift in the conversation. "You did?"
Lupin nodded, his lips curving in the faintest smile. "It was her favorite subject at Hogwarts, you know. She always did well in her classes, but Astronomy was special to her. She loved how vast the universe was—how even on the worst days, the stars were always there."
Hope turned back to the sky, imagining her mother at school, sitting in a tower full of telescopes, completely fascinated by something that just looked like tiny specks of light to Hope. "She must've been really good at it."
"She was." There was a warmth in Lupin's voice now, a fondness that made Hope smile. "She could always find the constellations faster than I could. Used to tease me about it, actually."
Hope let out a soft laugh. "I like that."
For a while, neither of them spoke. The night stretched on, wrapping around them like a soft cocoon. Hope shifted closer, resting her head lightly against his arm. He didn't say anything, but she felt the small movement as he adjusted, making room for her to settle in more comfortably.
"She would've liked this," Lupin murmured after a long moment.
Hope swallowed, blinking up at the stars. "Yeah. I think so too."
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Hope had enjoyed spending time with her father, but she was practically bouncing with excitement, as the days drew closer to her week at Hermione's. She had been eager to see how Muggles lived, and the experience did not disappoint. Everything fascinated her—the strange contraptions they used, the odd way their homes functioned without magic, and most of all, the car.
Hope had never been in a car before. The first time she slid into the backseat of the Grangers' vehicle, the feeling of the car moving without a broom or magic unsettled her at first, but soon enough, she found herself watching the world blur past the window, fascinated by the way Muggles navigated their world.
Though, she wasn't sure how they had so much patience. It seemed to take forever to get from one place to another. She thought longingly of Floo Powder and Portkeys, even brooms—anything that would get them to their destination faster. But Hermione's parents seemed perfectly fine with the slow crawl of traffic.
Her favorite part of the week, however, had been watching Muggle movies. Harry had tried explaining them to her on the train the year before, but she hadn't quite grasped the concept. Hermione, ever the encyclopedia, had given a much more in-depth explanation of how films were made, describing cameras, scripts, actors, and animation in great detail. Unfortunately, the explanation only left Hope more confused. Muggles really did seem to do everything the hard way.
But the movies themselves—those she loved.
Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid—one after another, she sat wide-eyed, completely captivated. She adored the grand stories of romance, the balls, the gowns, the magic– or what Muggles considered magic, anyway. She liked the idea of one true love, of meeting someone and just knowing—it was exciting.
One evening, as the credits rolled on Sleeping Beauty, Hope stretched out on Hermione's bed and sighed dreamily.
After Sleeping Beauty, she flopped dramatically onto Hermione's bed.
"I think I want to be a princess," she declared.
Hermione, stacking up their empty popcorn bowls, gave her a look. "You are a witch, you know. That's already way more exciting than being a princess."
Hope propped herself up on her elbows. "Maybe. But do witches get fancy ball gowns and handsome princes?"
Hermione snorted. "I don't think you want a prince. You'd get bored in five minutes."
"I would not!"
"You would," Hermione said smugly. "You'd start talking about Quidditch, and he'd have no idea what you were on about."
Hope huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Then I'll find a wizard prince."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you're so obsessed with all this romance stuff, you should try some Muggle books. Pride and Prejudice is a classic."
Hope wrinkled her nose. "That sounds like school reading."
Hermione scoffed. "It's not just school reading. There's drama, romance, banter—"
"Does it have magic?"
"No."
Hope flopped onto her back again. "Then I dunno..."
Hermione tossed a pillow at her. "You're impossible."
Hope giggled, hugging the pillow. "Fine, fine. I'll give one a try. Maybe."
Later that week, "Has Harry written you back yet?" Hermione asked, flipping through a book in her living room
Hope looked up with a frown. "No, and I've sent at least three owls."
"He still hasn't written to me either," Hermione said worriedly.
They exchanged a glance, the unspoken worry settling between them. Something wasn't right.
At the end of the week, Lupin arrived to pick Hope up. She found him sitting in the Grangers' kitchen, chatting politely with Hermione's parents, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
The girls hugged tightly before parting, murmuring promises to write—though Hope was already thinking about how unreliable that seemed lately. As much fun as the week had been, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Why hadn't Harry written back?
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Hope stood eagerly by the fireplace. It had been a peaceful few weeks with her father, but she was more than ready for the bustling energy of the Burrow. The idea of spending time with Ron, Fred, and George made her smile in anticipation.
"All right, do you have everything?" Remus's voice brought her back to the moment, his tone calm but assessing as he eyed her packed belongings.
Hope gave him a quick nod. "Yeah, I've got everything. My wand, Markl..." She double-checked her trunk. "I think I'm good."
Remus raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Are you sure? I think you're missing something."
Hope frowned, unable to think of what she could have forgotten. "What?"
Remus's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "I think you'll be glad you didn't forget this."
Before Hope could ask what he meant, Remus turned toward the broom closet, his movements slow and deliberate. She watched, curious but silent, her gaze following his every move. He soon returned, holding something long and sleek in his hands.
Her breath caught in her throat. "You got me a broom?" she gasped, hardly believing it.
Lupin's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I think you'll want to leave with this."
He held out a Quidditch broom. Hope's eyes widened in disbelief, excitement bubbling in her chest as she rushed forward to take it from his hands.
"It's second-hand," Lupin explained, his voice slightly hesitant. "And not much, but—"
"It's brilliant!" Hope interrupted, her voice filled with wonder as she ran her fingers over the broom's handle. She couldn't believe it. Her own broom. A gift from her father. She beamed up at him, her heart swelling with happiness. "I love it."
Lupin chuckled, relieved by her reaction. "I've been hiding it for a while, actually. I was worried you might find it, but I figured, given how much you dislike cleaning, the broom closet was the safest place."
Hope rolled her eyes playfully, her excitement bubbling over. "I love it, Dad," she said again, already imagining herself practicing with it at the Weasleys'.
With her new broom in hand and all her things packed, Hope and Remus crammed into the small fireplace. He took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. "The Burrow," he said as green flames engulfed them.
Within moments, the familiar dizzying sensation of Floo travel swept over them. As the world spun, Hope braced herself for the sudden stop. A second later, they emerged from the flames into the Weasleys' living room.
Hope stepped carefully from the fireplace, the wooden floor creaking slightly beneath her feet. She looked around, taking in the cozy, slightly chaotic space—the mismatched furniture, the clothes scattered about, the delicious scent of something cooking in the air. There was an old, comforting mustiness, likely from all the books piled up in corners and on shelves. More than anything, it radiated warmth.
Mrs. Weasley appeared almost immediately, her face lighting up at the sight of Hope. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you again, dear!" she said, enveloping Hope in a warm embrace.
Hope laughed softly, feeling a little awkward at the attention but also grateful. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley."
Mrs. Weasley stepped back, still beaming, then turned to Remus. "And you too, Remus," she said with a smile.
Lupin nodded with a soft chuckle. "It's nice to see you as well, Molly."
As they exchanged pleasantries, Hope heard the familiar sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs. Ron, Fred, and George appeared in the doorway, their faces lighting up at the sight of her.
"Hey, Hope," Ron greeted her brightly.
Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is wonderful! You know, I was hoping you two would remember how inseparable you were when you were little."
Hope blinked in surprise and exchanged a confused glance with Ron. "Inseparable?" she repeated.
"Huh?" Fred added thoughtfully, shrugging slightly. "I don't remember too much about that time, but I do remember Ron always had a friend over when he was younger."
"Who knew it was you, little Lupin," George added.
Ron blinked, trying to recall anything from that time, but the memories felt fuzzy at best. "I don't remember any of that," he admitted, scratching the back of his head.
Hope's thoughts swirled. She hadn't realized just how close they used to be when they were younger. She had no recollection of the days spent with Ron.
Mrs. Weasley chuckled softly, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Ron, Hope was the one who used to visit. You two were so close. But I suppose you wouldn't remember much of it now. You were both so young—only five when she stopped visiting, when her mother..." Molly stilled, and Hope felt her father stiffen slightly.
Lupin cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to the present. He pulled a small pouch from his pocket and handed it to Mrs. Weasley. "This is for Hope's school supplies," he explained.
Mrs. Weasley smiled, accepting the pouch with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Remus. You're welcome to stay for dinner, of course. You're looking a bit thin. Have you been eating properly?"
Lupin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'm fine, Molly, really. But thank you for the offer." He smiled down at Hope. "And thank you for looking after her. She's in good hands here."
Mrs. Weasley waved him off with a smile. "You're both welcome anytime, Remus. And Hope, make sure you enjoy your time here."
Lupin leaned down and kissed Hope on the forehead, his voice soft but teasing. "Be good," he said with a pointed finger.
Hope grinned up at him. "I always am," she said, though they both knew that wasn't entirely true.
Lupin gave her one last smile before stepping back into the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, said, "Yorkshire Cottage," and disappeared into the emerald flames.
Molly turned to Hope with a warm smile, wiping her hands on her apron. "You'll be staying in Ginny's room, dear. The boys will take your things up for you."
At her words, Ron let out a groan. "Why do we have to—"
"Because I said so," Molly interrupted, fixing him with a pointed look before turning back to Hope. "Ginny should be up there now. Go on and get settled in."
Fred groaned dramatically, grabbing Hope's trunk. "Oh, of course, Mum. We live to serve."
George smirked as he hoisted the other half. "Yeah, really, it's what gets us out of bed in the morning."
Hope rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing as the twins carried her things up the crooked stairs. Molly ushered her along, leading her to the door of Ginny's room and giving it a quick knock before pushing it open.
Hope made her way up the stairs to Ginny's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she knocked lightly before pushing it open.
Ginny looked up from where she was sprawled on her bed, a copy of Quidditch Weekly in her hands. Her bright red hair was slightly tousled, and her freckled face lit up in a welcoming grin. "Oh, hi! Mum said you were coming."
Hope stepped inside, glancing around the room. The walls were covered in posters of the Holyhead Harpies, the emerald-green and gold colors standing out against the pale yellow wallpaper. Hope's gaze lingered on a particularly large poster of Gwenog Jones, the Harpies' captain, mid-swing on her broom, a determined look on her face.
"You like the Harpies?" Hope asked, her eyes widening in delight.
Ginny sat up, her eyes lighting up. "Love them. They're the best team in the league! Tell me you're not a Cannons fan."
Hope made a face. "Absolutely not. I have taste."
Ginny laughed. "Brilliant! I swear, I'm surrounded by brothers who wouldn't know good Quidditch if it hit them in the face."
Hope plopped onto the bed opposite Ginny's, instantly feeling at ease. "I get it. My dad's more into books than brooms, so I've been starved of proper Quidditch conversations. Who's your favorite player?"
That was all it took. The next half hour was spent excitedly discussing team strategies, arguing over the best plays, and bonding over their shared love for the sport. Hope quickly realized Ginny was just as passionate as she was, if not more. The younger girl had a sharp wit, and Hope found herself laughing easily at her dry humor.
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and George peeked his head in. "Oi, dinner's ready. Figured I'd let you know before Ron inhales everything."
As they walked downstairs, George bumped Hope's shoulder lightly, a grin tugging at his lips. "You know, you fit in here pretty well. It's almost like you're an honorary Weasley at this point."
Hope laughed. "Oh? Do I get a badge or something?"
He pretended to think. "Hmm... no badge, but I could arrange for an official title. 'Most Tolerable Non-Weasley.'"
She rolled her eyes, nudging him back. "Oh, wow. Such an honor."
He smirked. "It is, actually. We're a very exclusive club."
Hope chuckled but then softened. "Well, I do love being here. Your mum is amazing, and... it just feels nice."
George glanced at her, his expression less teasing now. "Yeah. I like having you here too." Then, just as quickly, his grin returned. "Though, if you start stealing my toast at breakfast, we might have a problem."
Hope laughed, shaking her head. "I'll try to restrain myself."
As they reached the dining room, Hope took a moment to glance at the twins. They had both definitely grown taller, but she found herself noticing George more than Fred. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident yet effortless—that made it hard to look away.
Arthur Weasley entered just as they sat down, wiping oil from his hands with an old rag. His face lit up when he saw Hope. "Hope! Lovely to see you. Shame I missed Remus."
Hope smiled warmly. "It's good to see you too, Mr. Weasley."
As the food was passed around, Arthur's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Tell me, how's your dad been? And—oh! And I hear you and Ron have a Muggle-born friend. Have you learned anything new about Muggles?"
Hope's lips twitched in amusement. "Actually, Hermione was telling me all about movies the other day. Apparently, they're these moving pictures that tell stories. They have actors who pretend to be different people, and somehow they film everything and project it onto a big screen."
Arthur's brow furrowed in deep thought. "Moving pictures... but not like wizarding ones?"
Hope shook her head. "No, these don't have magic. They're made with cameras. I don't quite understand it, but they look brilliant."
Arthur let out a low whistle, clearly intrigued. "Fascinating! Muggles never cease to amaze me. Speaking of which—" he leaned forward, eyes twinkling, "I recently bought a rusty old car to take apart and tinker with."
Hope's eyebrows shot up. "You're taking apart a car?"
Before Arthur could respond, George leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "And enchanting it to fly."
Hope turned to him sharply, her eyes widening in surprise. George only grinned, mischief dancing in his gaze before he leaned back and continued eating.
Arthur then leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious. "Speaking of news, you lot won't believe this—Harry used magic. Right in front of those Muggles he lives with."
Ron, who had just stuffed a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, nearly choked. "What?"
Fred whistled lowly. "Didn't think he had it in him."
Arthur chuckled. "From what I heard, he dropped a cake on a Muggle. Floated it right over her head and dropped it."
Molly huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, that poor boy. I do hope Dumbledore sorts it out. He can't still be stuck there after that."
Hope exchanged a glance with Ron, a shared worry passing between them. Something didn't feel right.
After dinner, Hope found herself in Ron's room, sprawled on his bed while he sat on the floor. Nearly everything in his room was a violent shade of orange—the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Posters of the Chudley Cannons covered every inch of the shabby wallpaper, their bright orange robes practically glowing in the dim candlelight.
"I'm worried about Harry," Ron admitted, tossing a pillow up and catching it repeatedly.
"Do you think his uncle's stealing his mail?" Hope asked nervously.
Ron frowned, considering it. "You think he would?"
Hope snorted. "You know how unpleasant he was at King's Cross Station. Wouldn't put it past him."
Ron nodded. "Something weird has to be happening if Harry actually used magic in front of them." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I just wish we could go see him and get him away from those horrible Muggles."
Hope paused, an idea forming in her mind. Slowly, a mischievous smile spread across her lips. "You know, George told me your dad enchanted that rusty old car to fly."
Ron blinked at her, then sat up straight as realization dawned. "Hope... are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
Hope's grin widened. "Let's go get Harry."