Unspoken Thoughts.
The Leaky Cauldron was filled with its usual lively chatter, but Harry barely paid attention. His mind was elsewhere—on the cross beneath his shirt, on the weight of unseen eyes, on the flickering thoughts he tried not to dwell on.
He had spent weeks enduring the quiet horror of the church. The nun—whatever it was—had pressed closer, more insistent than ever before. And now, back in the wizarding world, she was gone. Just like that.
It should have been a relief.
So why did he still feel watched?
“Harry!”
He turned just in time to see Hermione rush toward him, her face lighting up in relief. Behind her, the familiar red-headed family trailed in, their presence grounding him.
Mrs. Weasley fussed over him, and Ron immediately launched into complaints about Percy and his new Head Boy status. Harry let himself relax slightly, slipping into the usual rhythm of conversation.
That was until Mr. Weasley pulled him aside.
“Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, his voice lowering, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
Harry tensed. He already knew what was coming.
“Sirius Black,” Mr. Weasley continued. “He’s escaped from Azkaban, and—”
“I know,” Harry interrupted. “The Ministry sent me a letter.”
Mr. Weasley’s brows furrowed, surprised, but he pressed on. “Harry, you have to be careful. You mustn’t go looking for him.”
Harry gave a dry laugh. “Why would I go looking for someone who is trying to kill me?”
The words came out easily, like second nature, but his mind immediately betrayed him—because he wasn’t thinking about Sirius Black.
He was thinking about her.
The unnatural clicking in the dead of night. The way shadows stretched where they shouldn’t. The feeling of wrongness pressing against his very soul.
Harry had never gone looking for her.
She had always found him.