Chapter 104

After Johnny blended back into the crowd, Harry awkwardly explained, “It’s because Sirius Black—a notorious Death Eater—escaped from Azkaban specifically to come to Hogwarts and find me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t know earlier—I’ve been in France,” Hermione struggled with her heavy book bag. “But my grandmother always said no restaurant serving bad food can make money, and no evil can last forever.”

“Let me carry your books, Neville,” Ron said, taking the bag from her.

Hermione’s face turned red. She whispered, “I didn’t mean to imitate him.”

“But I’m curious—how do you manage all these classes?” Harry asked. “Isn’t it too exhausting?”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you,” Hermione smiled. “It’s a secret.”

“Alright, I’m sure you’re easily influenced by those around you,” Harry shrugged. “You just sounded exactly like Zhang Qiu.”

“Asian bad habit—hoarding your study methods,” Ivy said sharply. “Afraid someone else might copy them and outperform you.”

“You shouldn’t say that, Ivy,” Harry said uncomfortably, glancing around to change the subject. “Look—a pet shop. Let’s go check it out. Ron, haven’t you always wanted an owl?”

“Fine, but I won’t buy anything,” Ron pulled out Scabbers from his pocket. “Zhang Qiu said I might lose him this year. I actually like Scabbers—he’s old, lazy, useless—but he’s still a Weasley.”

“Maybe try some rat tonic,” Harry suggested. “A lot of divinations have been delayed—I figure you might as well give him a little more time with you.”

At the pet shop, Ron successfully bought some rat tonic, while Hermione purchased a ginger cat and named it Crookshanks.

“You nasty thing! Don’t stare at my Scabbers!” Ron eyed the cat warily as it struggled to escape Hermione’s arms. “Harry, you have no idea how much I miss Puddlemere.”

“Sorry, I thought it seemed lively,” Hermione said apologetically. “Turns out it’s a bit too lively.”

The group returned to the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed both Ron and Hermione planned to stay there until term started. Ron’s family laughed and joked loudly, while Hermione retreated to her room with her books.

“Ivy, you shouldn’t have said that to Hermione—it’s rude,” Harry closed the door and prepared to give her a proper talking-to.

“So what? She’s just a clueless bookworm who doesn’t help you at all,” Ivy sneered.

“How can you say that? She’s Neville’s friend—and therefore my friend too!”

"You heard it yourself—Neville chose Hannah," Ivy dismissed. "Now she's going after Ron. That's a classic green tea move."

“What tea? No, how can you be so cruel to a classmate?” Harry was deeply displeased.

“What? Look around—how many girls actually like her?” Ivy said smugly. “And does she even consider Ron a friend? She just bought a cat as a pet—didn’t she know Ron’s pet is a rat?”

“Cats and rats can be friends too. Haven’t you seen cartoons? Tom and Jerry?”

“You wouldn’t have reminded me, but now I recall—Tom also said some girls use any means to climb the social ladder, studying while seducing pure-blood boys,” Ivy sneered. “Who knows? Once she realizes Ron’s obsessed with knightly virtues, she’ll turn her eyes on you.”

It took Harry half a minute to realize she meant Tom Riddle from the diary.

“Anyway, I suggest you keep Ron far away from her. See how many friends she makes among girls,” Ivy rolled her eyes. “Girls understand girls best—don’t think I’m just making this up.”

“I have no idea how you turned out this way,” Harry groaned. “Can’t you ever think the best of people?”

“Hey, Harry, wanna come down for dinner?” Ron knocked on the door.

“Sure, we’re coming,” Harry tapped Ivy’s forehead with one finger. “No matter what, don’t be rude to Ron. Understood?”

“Of course,” she instantly brightened again.

The barkeep pushed three tables together. Harry brought Ivy to join the Weasleys’ dinner; Ron and Ginny had saved seats for them. Hermione sat beside Ron. Fortunately, Ivy was whispering to Ginny and caused no offense—Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“How are we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” Fred asked after digging into a large spoonful of chocolate pudding.

“The Ministry will provide a car,” Mr. Weasley said.

Everyone stared at him.

“Why?” Percy asked curiously.

“Because of you, Percy,” George said seriously. “Because of your Prefect badge—they’re in awe!”

“...They’re in awe!” Fred corrected.

Harry choked on his pudding and nearly inhaled it.

“Why does the Ministry provide a car, Father?” Percy asked again, his voice carrying an air of authority.

“Well… I admit I find it strange too,” Mr. Weasley said. “...When I went to the office, they offered this kindness…”

“Because Black might attack Harry or his friends on the way,” the waiter suddenly spoke. Harry noticed then—he was Johnny in disguise. “We must get Harry to Hogwarts without fail. Only under Dumbledore’s and the guards’ double protection can we ensure Black has no chance.”

“Alright, I admit I wasn’t sure whether to tell Harry,” Mr. Weasley confessed openly. “Last year was a bit against the rules, so I’ll personally see you onto the train. Harry, under the Ministry’s watch, you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” Harry lowered his head. “I’ll be careful.”

This made Harry worry whether he’d still be allowed to visit Hogsmeade—but then he remembered he’d already spent most of summer in Diagon Alley. Maybe he didn’t need to be so tense.

The day before term started, under Mr. Weasley’s escort, Harry boarded a dark green sedan. The driver wore a black velvet suit. Harry wasn’t surprised to find it was Johnny in disguise—Johnny always lurked near him in bizarre disguises. Harry trusted his professionalism, but no matter what he did, Johnny always stood out—obviously not an ordinary person.

The Ministry car arrived smoothly at King’s Cross Station. Mr. Weasley stayed glued to Harry’s elbow as they entered.

“Alright,” he glanced around. “We’ve got a lot of people—let’s go through the barrier in pairs. Myself and Harry will go first.”

Mr. Weasley slowly walked toward the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, pushing Harry’s trolley, pretending to be interested in a city advertisement on Platform Nine. He stopped, gave Harry a meaningful look, then leaned back against the barrier. Harry copied him.

In the next instant, using the metal barrier beside them, they stumbled onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Looking up, they saw the Hogwarts Express—the plump, crimson steam engine, its smoke filling the platform, children carrying luggage.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting—they’d run through the barrier.

“Oh, Penelope!” Percy said, smoothing his hair again, hurrying off to find his girlfriend with his luggage.

Harry and Mr. Weasley walked along the train to the last carriage, placed their luggage in a small compartment. The cabin was still empty; they stowed their trunks.

“There’s something I need to tell you before you leave…” Mr. Weasley said in a tense voice, glancing nervously behind him.

“What is it?” Harry said. “Go ahead.”

“Harry, you must be extremely careful. Never, under any circumstances, try to be a hero.”

“I understand,” Harry said earnestly. “If I ever face danger, I’ll seek Dumbledore’s help—and this year, I’ve got Johnny Ingleby, a top Auror, secretly protecting me.”

Mr. Weasley’s mouth twitched at the mention of Johnny.

“Harry, I know many people want to protect you—but I’m worried about you,” he said in a low voice. “Listen—I need your promise: no matter what, no matter what you hear, never try to find Sirius Black.”

“Thank goodness he doesn’t come looking for me,” Harry said dejectedly.

“You might not think so now, but soon you’ll hear rumors—some well-meaning, some malicious,” Mr. Weasley said. “Don’t believe any of them. Understood?”

“What? I don’t understand?” Harry was confused.

“We still don’t know the truth of ten years ago. But we do know this: no matter what Sirius Black truly is, the Death Eaters want you to find him.”

At the mention of Death Eaters, Harry immediately became alert. “I understand, Mr. Weasley. I promise you.”

“Whoever tells you anything—never go alone to find Sirius Black,” Arthur Weasley said slowly, each word deliberate.

“Whatever I learn, I’ll consult a professor before making any decision,” Harry solemnly promised.