31. The Leaky Cauldron
Hope stood with her father outside the small, shabby-looking pub known as the Leaky Cauldron. The sun was beginning to dip below the rooftops of London, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets. Only two days of summer holiday remained, and with a full moon the night before their departure on the Hogwarts Express, Remus had thought it best for her to spend the final days at the inn. Despite the warmth of the evening, Hope felt a chill prickle along the back of her neck—as if she was being watched. She turned, scanning the empty street. But there was nothing. Just a few distracted Muggles hurrying along, oblivious to her presence.
"Hope," her father's voice pulled her from her thoughts, the concern evident in his tone. He patted down her bags for what seemed like the fifth time.
"Alright, you've got everything... your books, your broom, Markl," he murmured, giving the little owl's cage a light tap, which earned him a disapproving hoot.
Hope let out a fond sigh. "Dad, you've checked my things a million times."
"Well, I just want to be sure," Remus replied, though even he seemed to realize he was overdoing it. He offered her a weak smile, though worry still tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"You go ahead and get yourself settled," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "I've already written to Molly. You'll be going to King's Cross with the Weasleys. And until then..." His expression darkened, and Hope could practically predict his next words. "No going into Diagon Alley alone, and definitely no wandering into Muggle London. Not with—"
"Not with a crazy mass murderer on the loose. Yeah, I know." Hope nodded, cutting him off before he could finish. Ever since Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, Remus had been even more overprotective than usual. She'd spent most of her summer cooped up at home, and he had even insisted on picking up her school supplies without her.
"I'll be careful, Dad," she assured him, offering a smile that she hoped would ease his worry.
Remus sighed. "Alright. Well, go on in then." He kissed her forehead softly.
"See you at school!" she called with a small smile, pushing open the door to the Leaky Cauldron.
The Leaky Cauldron was just as she remembered—dimly lit, with aged wooden floorboards that creaked beneath her feet. The air smelled of butterbeer and roasting meat, mingling with the faint tang of firewhiskey. The chatter of patrons hummed around her, the occasional clink of glasses adding to the low murmur. Wizards and witches huddled in booths, some laughing loudly while others exchanged whispered conversations. But despite the familiar warmth of the old inn, Hope couldn't help but notice the new addition.
Stuck up along the cracked stone walls and faded tapestries were multiple wanted posters for Sirius Black. The gaunt, hollow-eyed figure in the moving photograph glared out with a twisted sneer, his tangled hair framing his face like a dark halo. The words "Have You Seen This Wizard?" loomed in bold print above the sneering man. Even though she had seen the headlines in The Daily Prophet, the sight of so many posters sent a shiver through her.
Hope pulled her gaze away, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. She focused instead on the bar where Tom, the innkeeper, stood. His bald head gleamed under the lantern light as he methodically wiped down a row of glasses.
She cleared her throat, catching his attention.
"Hi, I need a room for the next couple of nights."
Tom nodded, vanishing behind the bar before returning with a brass key. "Room eight. That'll be a Galleon and five Sickles."
Hope fished the coins from her pocket and placed them on the counter. Just as Tom swept them away, a familiar voice called her name.
"Hope?"
She spun around, her face lighting up. "Harry!"
Without a second thought, she threw her arms around him. He hugged her back, grinning from ear to ear.
"How are you? I would've called, but Ron said you got in trouble with those Muggles."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, best you didn't. But I got your birthday card."
Hope grimaced slightly. "Sorry about that. I know it's not much."
She thought back to the card she'd painstakingly enchanted since she couldn't afford a real present. It was simple—four stick figure drawings, each brought to life. Harry, with his messy hair and round glasses, zoomed across the card on a miniature broomstick, performing a clumsy loop-de-loop before flashing a grin. Ron's figure, with freckles and red hair, juggled three chocolate frogs, barely keeping them in the air. Hermione's stick figure waved her wand, sending a shower of golden stars cascading above them. Hope's own likeness flicked her wand, summoning a glowing banner that shifted colors and read "Happy Birthday!" in shimmering letters.
"It was brilliant," Harry said sincerely.
"I'm glad you liked it," she said, smiling in relief.
Harry offered to help carry her things, grabbing her trunk as she took Markl's cage and her broom and they made their way up the stairs.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Hope asked. "Did you finally have enough of those Muggles?" She smirked.
Harry gave a sheepish laugh. "You could say that. I, uh, blew up my aunt."
Hope stopped mid-step, her eyes wide. "Did you really?"
Harry nodded, and her shock quickly turned to a grin. "I can't believe I missed that!" she said, laughing, the sound echoing through the narrow corridor.
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Hope woke on the last day of the holidays. She sat in one of the worn, wooden chairs by the window, her gaze drifting absently over the bustling street outside. The warm light from the early morning sun filtered through the stained glass, casting colorful patches across the floor.
Harry had gone into Diagon Alley to take another look at the Firebolt on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. She would have liked to go with him—wanting to see the new state of the art broom for herself, even if it wasn't something she would ever be able to afford. But after her father's strict orders, she had reluctantly stayed behind.
The sounds of footsteps on the stairs pulled her from her thoughts.
"Hope!" a voice called out.
Hope turned quickly, a smile spreading across her face as she saw Hermione descending the stairs, looking as bright and cheery as ever. Her bushy brown hair bouncing around her shoulders. Hope couldn't help but grin at the sight of her best friend.
"Hermione!" Hope said, rising to greet her. The two girls shared a quick, excited hug, both of them thrilled to finally be in the same place after what felt like ages. "I didn't expect to see you here," Hope said, pulling back and smiling. "How was your summer?"
"It was great! Mum and Dad dropped me off early this morning. They wanted to get a jump on things for work," Hermione said, warmly.
Before Hope could respond, a familiar clatter of footsteps echoed from the door, and she looked over to see the Weasleys making their way in, all a mess of red hair and bright smiles.
"Hope!" Ron replied, grinning widely as he made his way over. "It's good to see you!"
They exchanged a quick hug, and Hope found herself smiling more than she expected. Ron seemed taller somehow, his usual awkwardness softened by the ease of familiarity.
"Hey, Ron," Hermione greeted him, her voice warm but with an edge of something else—a familiarity that Hope hadn't noticed before. Ron fumbled slightly with his words, his face flushing as he greeted Hermione.
"Er, hi Hermione," Ron said, his voice sounding a little nervous. "How was your summer?"
Hermione smiled at him. "It was fine, thanks.
"Harry's off in Diagon Alley again," Hope added, eager to change the subject. "He's looking at the Firebolt again. I think he's using all his restraint not to get one.."
"Ah, who needs restraint," Fred said with a grin. "I say he should get it, show the Slytherins with their stupid Nimbus 2001's."
Hope smiled at Fred's teasing, then turned back to the others. "I'll stay here. You guys go on ahead."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing. "It's the last day of the holidays, Hope. You should come along."
"I'll be fine," Hope reassured her with a smile. "Go on ahead. I've been told to stay put, anyway." She rolled her eyes playfully, though there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Well, I'm going," Fred said, nudging Ginny, who had been listening intently to their conversation. "You coming, Ginny?"
"Yeah, let's go!" Ginny chimed in, though she looked over at Hope with a small, understanding smile before following Fred out the door.
Percy, predictably, had already disappeared into the corner with a book, but Hope noticed George hadn't moved. He lingered behind, his eyes briefly meeting hers.
Her stomach fluttered nervously, and her palms suddenly felt clammy. She had been looking forward to seeing him, but now that he was standing in front of her, the nerves she had been trying to ignore all summer surged forward. She had developed a crush on him before the holiday, a feeling that caught her off guard and left her unsure of how to behave around him.
George smiled at her with that lopsided grin of his, and Hope felt her cheeks flush. She tried to mask the heat rising in her face by focusing on her words. "Hey, George," she said, her voice a little quieter than she intended.
"Hope," George replied, his voice warm and friendly, though his eyes lingered on her a bit longer than usual. "So, you're staying here?" he asked.
Hope noticed it, but quickly turned her attention back to Fred and Ginny as they continued their chatter about Diagon Alley.
"Yeah, I'll hang out here for a bit," Hope said, trying to keep her tone light.
George hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting Hope's. Something shifted in the air between them. He looked down at his shoes for a brief second, and then, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he nodded toward her.
"Alright, guess I'll keep you company then," George said with that mischievous grin of his, his eyes twinkling.
Hope's heart skipped a beat, but she nodded, trying to hide the flutter of excitement in her chest. "Thanks, I appreciate it."
As they talked, Hope found herself listening intently as George spoke about his family's trip to Egypt, where they'd visited their older brother Bill. She felt a quiet admiration for the way George described the experience, the excitement still fresh in his voice. She nodded along, her thoughts briefly drifting to the way he looked now—taller than she remembered, with his hair a little longer, falling around his face in messy waves that made him look somehow more mature.
She realized she was staring a bit too long and quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks heat up. She tried to focus on what George was saying, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked now.
Unbeknownst to her, George was also taking in her appearance. He noticed the way her brown hair had grown, falling in messy waves around her face. Her blue eyes were bright and warm, and her laugh—he realized—was one of the things he liked most about her. For the first time, George found himself noticing how pretty his friend had become.
He quickly pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the conversation between them.
"So, did you miss us over the summer?" George asked, nudging her shoulder playfully.
Hope smiled, her heart skipping a beat. "Of course. It's not the same without you," she said, meeting his gaze with a soft smile before quickly catching herself. "You—all of you. The Weasleys," she corrected awkwardly.
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When Ron, Harry, and Hermione returned to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione cradled a large, bandy-legged, ginger-colored cat with a grumpy and oddly squashed face.
"Did you get a cat?" Hope asked, stepping closer and giving the feline a gentle stroke on the head. The cat responded with a low purr.
"I'm surprised you can even tell that thing's a cat," Ron muttered, eyeing it with distaste.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "His name is Crookshanks," she said, smiling fondly at the creature.
"Well, I think Crookshanks is cute," Hope replied, her gaze flicking pointedly at Ron. "Besides, it's not like you can judge other people's pets with that strangely old rat of yours."
Hermione and Harry snickered as Ron scowled.
"That thing nearly scalped me!" Ron said, clutching the lump in his chest pocket where Scabbers was hiding protectively.
"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" Hermione argued, scratching beneath the cat's chin.
"And what about Scabbers?" Ron shot back, glaring. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he supposed to get that with that monster around?"
"That reminds me," Hermione said briskly, pulling a small red bottle from her bag and pressing it into Ron's hand. "You forgot your Rat Tonic. And stop worrying. Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory, and Scabbers will be in yours. What's the problem? Poor Crookshanks... that witch said he'd been there for ages. No one wanted him."
"I wonder why," Ron grumbled, shooting Crookshanks another wary glance.
They made their way through the crowded pub, the rich scent of butterbeer and roasting meat filling the air. The chatter of patrons buzzed around them, but Hope's attention was drawn to the bar, where Mr. Weasley sat reading the Daily Prophet. His face lit up as he spotted them.
"Harry! How are you?" he asked, setting the newspaper down.
"Fine, thanks," Harry replied, though his gaze had caught on the familiar black-and-white image of Sirius Black, the wild-eyed fugitive glaring out from the front page.
"They still haven't caught him, then?" Harry asked quietly.
Mr. Weasley's face grew serious. "No. They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."
"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" Ron asked eagerly. "It'd be good to get some extra money —"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Mr. Weasley interrupted, his expression tightening. On closer inspection, he looked more strained than usual. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."
Hope's stomach twisted. "Dad's been really worried ever since he found out. He barely let me leave the house all summer," she murmured, her voice low.
Mr. Weasley nodded, avoiding her gaze. Hope didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. There was something he wasn't saying, but before she could press further, the door burst open.
Mrs. Weasley entered, her arms laden with bags, followed closely by Fred, George, Percy, and Ginny. The twins immediately rushed to help with the shopping, their grins mischievous as always. Percy, now proudly displaying a gleaming silver Head Boy badge, trailed behind.
Ginny, who had been so shy around Harry ever since he saved her last term, flushed scarlet and mumbled a barely audible, "Hello." Percy, however, strode forward with an air of importance.
"Harry. How nice to see you," he said, extending his hand solemnly, as though they'd never met.
"Hello, Percy," Harry replied, fighting back a grin.
"I hope you're well?" Percy asked, shaking Harry's hand like a dignitary.
"Very well, thanks —"
"Harry!" Fred interrupted, shoving Percy aside and bowing dramatically. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy —"
"Marvellous!" George chimed in, grabbing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."
Percy scowled, but before he could retort, Mrs. Weasley shot the twins a stern look.
"That's enough, now," she said firmly.
"Mum!" Fred exclaimed with mock surprise. "How really corking to see you!"
"I said that's enough," Mrs. Weasley repeated, dropping her bags onto a chair. She turned to Harry, her expression softening. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She gestured proudly at Percy's badge. "Second Head Boy in the family!"
"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.
"I don't doubt that," Mrs. Weasley said, narrowing her eyes. "I notice they haven't made you two Prefects."
"What would we want to be Prefects for?" George asked, looking genuinely horrified. "It'd take all the fun out of life."
Hope and Ginny giggled, though they quickly tried to hide it under their hands.
"You ought to set a better example for your sister!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.
"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," Percy said pompously. "I'm going up to change for dinner."
He disappeared up the stairs, his nose in the air. George heaved a dramatic sigh.
"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Harry, his eyes twinkling. "But Mum spotted us."
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Dinner that night was a lively, enjoyable affair. Tom, the innkeeper, pushed three tables together in the parlour, and the seven Weasleys, Hope, Harry, and Hermione happily ate their way through five delicious courses.
"How are we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" Fred asked as they tucked into a rich chocolate pudding.
"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," Mr. Weasley replied. Everyone looked up at him.
"Why?" Percy asked, curiously.
"It's because of you, Perce," George said seriously. "There'll be little flags on the bonnets with HB on them—"
"—for Humungous Bighead," Fred finished with a grin.
Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snickered. George's grin widened when he saw Hope chuckling out of the corner of his eye.
"Why is the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, his voice strained with dignity.
"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," Mr. Weasley said, "and since I work there, they're doing me a favor."
Though he tried to sound casual, Hope noticed his ears reddening—just like Ron's did when he was flustered. She could tell Harry picked up on it too.
"Good thing, too," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you all have? Imagine the sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground. You're all packed, aren't you?"
"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," Percy said, his tone filled with long-suffering patience. "He's dumped them on my bed."
"You'd better pack properly, Ron. We won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called.
Ron scowled at Percy but said nothing.
After dinner, everyone was pleasantly full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Hope double-checked her trunk, ensuring everything was neatly packed before locking it. On her way out, she furrowed her brow as she passed Ron and Percy's room, hearing their heated voices.
"What are they rowing about?" she asked as she fell in step with Harry.
"Percy lost his Head Boy badge," Harry said with a smirk. "He's convinced Ron took it."
Hope let out an airy laugh. "Please. One of the twins probably swiped it."
They were halfway along the darkened passage to the bar when the sound of another argument reached their ears. This time, it was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's voices from the parlour. Harry hesitated, but Hope leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of her. When Harry's name was mentioned, his apprehension turned to interest, and he moved closer to the door.
"... makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry has a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and—"
"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" Mrs. Weasley shot back. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!"
"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard! You know what Harry and Ron are like. They've even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! And Merlin knows the trouble Hope gets into—she's just as bad as the twins."
Hope stiffened at the sound of her name, her curiosity deepening.
"Hope is a sweet girl," Mrs. Weasley said firmly.
"Yes," Mr. Weasley conceded. "A sweet girl who has a knack for finding trouble."
Mrs. Weasley shook her head, clearly frustrated, but before she could reply, Mr. Weasley pressed on. "Molly, she's not Arabella."
Hope's breath caught at the mention of her mother. An awkward weight settled over her. Listening to this conversation felt wrong, yet she couldn't bring herself to step away.
"I know that," Mrs. Weasley snapped.
"Do you?" Mr. Weasley's voice softened. "She's not one to follow rules, Molly. And if she only knew—"
"Remus said not to say anything," Mrs. Weasley interrupted firmly.
Hope's brows knit together. Not to say anything about what?
Mr. Weasley gave a resigned sigh. "And what about Harry? When I think what could have happened to him the night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he'd be dead before the Ministry found him."
"But he's not dead, Arthur. He's fine, so what's the point?"
"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been a month, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after."
"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley insisted.
"We thought Azkaban was perfectly secure. If Black can break out, he can break into Hogwarts."
"No one's certain he's after Harry..."
A sharp thud on wood made Hope jump. Mr. Weasley had slammed his fist on the table.
"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? The guards said Black's been talking in his sleep for weeks. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks killing Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power."
There was a heavy silence.
"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But don't forget Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster."
"Of course, he knows. We had to get his approval for the Azkaban guards to station themselves around the school. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."
"Not happy? Why not?"
"Dumbledore isn't fond of the guards," Mr. Weasley said heavily. "Nor am I. But when it comes to a wizard like Black, sometimes you have to work with those you'd rather avoid."
They heard chairs scrape against the floor. Hope and Harry quickly darted down the passage, out of sight, as the parlour door opened. They waited until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's footsteps had faded before exchanging a look.
"Come on," Harry muttered, leading Hope away. Both of their minds were buzzing with questions—and not just about Sirius Black.
The bottle of Rat Tonic lay under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry quickly grabbed it, and he and Hope waited until they heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom door close before heading back upstairs.
Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in his frantic search for his badge.
"We've got it," Fred whispered to Harry, grinning. "We've been improving it."
The badge now read Bighead Boy.
Hope let out a genuine laugh, the joke offering a small, welcome distraction from the conversation that had been echoing in her mind.
Harry's laugh was more forced, his thoughts elsewhere. Without saying much, he handed Ron the Rat Tonic, then grabbed Hope's arm, pulling her with him to his room. He shut the door firmly behind them.
"So..." Hope's voice was hesitant, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. "Sirius Black is after you."
Harry didn't answer right away. He paced the small space, the words from the argument repeating in his head.
Finally, Harry nodded. "Yeah. That's why Fudge was acting so weird back in Diagon Alley. He wasn't just being nice; he was relieved I was alive."
Hope blinked, struggling to piece it all together. "But why would he be after you? I mean, why now?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. They think I'd freak out if I knew, but I'm not scared. Black was Voldemort's right-hand man. But Dumbledore's at Hogwarts, and people say Voldemort was afraid of him. Black has to be too."
Harry's fists clenched. "Besides, I've escaped Voldemort three times. I'm not useless. They think I can't handle myself, but I'm not going to be murdered."
Hope opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn't sure what to say. A part of her wanted to reassure him, tell him he'd be okay. But another part felt the weight of the conversation they'd overheard. There was so much she still didn't understand.
"And my dad," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something about all this. Mrs. Weasley said he's keeping things from me. But why would it matter? Sirius Black has nothing to do with me."
Harry looked at her. "I think he's trying to protect you. Like everyone's trying to protect me," he replied, a slight irritation in his voice. He could take care of himself just fine.
"From what?" Hope questioned. "Sirius Black has no clue who I am."
"Well, Black did kill thirteen people with one curse. I doubt he knew them," Harry added.
Hope groaned, flopping onto his bed. "He's so secretive about everything. It's annoying. Not just about whatever this is — about my mum, too. I mean, I barely know anything about her." She sighed, the frustration weighing heavily on her.
Mr. Weasley's words were gnawing at her. Echoing over and over, and Hope didn't know how to silence it.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"I'm not going to be murdered," Harry said abruptly, as though daring the words to prove themselves wrong.
Hope nodded firmly in agreement. "No. You're not."
From the corner, Harry's mirror murmured sleepily, "That's the spirit, dear."