Chapter 216. Wild Thoughts
Hearing Ron bring up Black, Harry's heart sank.
Even the thrill of getting the Firebolt was somewhat dampened.
Yes—there was a dangerous criminal secretly watching him right now.
He had to stay on guard at all times!
"Wait!" Hermione suddenly said. "What criminal? How did I miss this?"
It looked like she hadn't read the latest Daily Prophet.
"Hold on a sec."
Ron hurried back to his room, and moments later returned with a clipping which he handed to Hermione; it was the news about Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban.
Hermione skimmed the clipping and looked up in disbelief. "You mean this criminal who killed more than a dozen people might be coming to Hogwarts?"
"Though it's only what I've heard," Ron said quickly, "you know my dad works at the Ministry of Magic—his information's got to be reliable."
"Unbelievable." Hermione shook her head, then added, "But with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, he won't have a chance."
"Too right," said Ron.
Harry didn't say anything just then.
He didn't want Hermione and Ron to know that Black was very likely after him.
Before it was fully dark, Hermione took her leave—though staying the night in a wizarding place was very cool, Mr and Mrs Granger apparently had their own plans.
Harry absent-mindedly played several games of Wizard's Chess with Ron. Ron usually won more often anyway, but tonight was worse; Harry barely scraped a single win.
Bedtime came quickly.
Ron had already gone back to his own room. Harry lay in his bed alone, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Without his friends around, he felt oddly hollow.
He glanced at the Firebolt beside him, but it did nothing to lift his mood.
Night is the perfect time to let one's thoughts run wild, and Harry was no exception.
Tomorrow he would be heading to Hogwarts. Mr and Mrs Weasley would drop him at the station on their way.
If they ran into that criminal on the road…
Harry shook his head hard, driving out the horrible thought.
Another ten minutes passed, and Harry slowly sat up in bed—he truly couldn't sleep.
Honestly, it was strange. He had always slept well; even back when he lived in the cupboard under the stairs, he could sleep soundly.
After a moment's thought, Harry decided to go out for a walk.
It wasn't too late yet; maybe having something to eat would settle him. At this hour, the Leaky Cauldron was still serving meals.
The corridor outside the rooms was narrow, lit only by a single lamp that gave off a dim glow.
Next door were the rooms the Weasleys were staying in—they had booked several adjoining ones with a small sitting room attached.
Harry wanted to call Ron to come along; knowing Ron, he'd definitely be up for a late-night snack at this hour.
But when he reached the sitting-room door, he stopped without meaning to.
Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to be discussing something inside.
Harry knew eavesdropping was wrong, but he found himself doing it anyway.
Because Mr Weasley seemed to have mentioned his name.
And, even more compellingly, the other name Mr Weasley said—Black.
"…I still don't agree with telling Harry about Black," Mrs Weasley said, her tone a little sharp. "He's still too young. Think about it, Arthur—if Harry knew Black's target was him, how much pressure would that put on him?"
Harry sighed inwardly. He already knew about this.
Mr Weasley's voice sounded again. "I know what you're worried about, but someone will protect Harry. He doesn't need to fear for his safety. He just needs to be aware of it, not kept in the dark.
"Thirteen isn't so young. When I was thirteen, I certainly wouldn't have wanted anyone to keep something this big from me."
"Ha, thirteen," Mrs Weasley said, sounding a little angry. "Don't think I don't know what you were like at thirteen. Back then—"
"Ah, let's not go into that, dear," Mr Weasley's voice weakened a little. "But I still say Harry shouldn't be left knowing nothing—especially at such a critical time. He ought to be more alert."
Harry felt he shouldn't keep listening.
"Knock, knock." He rapped lightly on the door.
The voices inside stopped.
"Coming."
Mrs Weasley's voice approached, followed by footsteps.
Soon, the door opened.
"Oh—it's you, Harry," Mrs Weasley said in surprise and delight. "It's so late. What brings you here?"
"I'm looking for Ron," said Harry. He couldn't shake the sense that Mrs Weasley's tone was just a touch unnatural.
"Do come in," Mrs Weasley ushered him inside. "Ron just went back to his room—he's certainly not asleep yet."
"Who is it, dear?" Mr Weasley's voice called.
When he saw Harry, he froze for a moment.
"Good evening, Mr Weasley," Harry said to them both. "I just heard your conversation—"
"You heard all that?" Mrs Weasley looked stunned.
"Yes," Harry nodded calmly and spoke in one go. "I'm sorry to have worried you, but I know all about Black. His target is me. Professor Wesson told me everything."
Harry suddenly felt a bit grateful.
If Professor Wesson hadn't told him, he'd probably still be completely in the dark.
That would have been awful.
As Mr Weasley had said, he needed to know.
Hearing Harry's words, Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a look.
"Merlin!" Mrs Weasley looked at Harry with aching concern, her face full of worry. "Dear, you must be under a tremendous amount of pressure."
Harry shook his head. "I'm fine."
He did feel a lot of pressure, but he had his friends with him—and these lovely people in front of him to protect him and care about him.
Harry suddenly felt at ease.
"See?" Mr Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder and turned to his wife. "Harry's grown up. He's very calm. We shouldn't be hiding things from him—and Wesson thinks so too."
Mrs Weasley sighed. "Wesson trusts this child too much. I think this is far too heavy for a child."
She ruffled Harry's hair and said gently, "Don't worry, dear. On the way to Hogwarts, we'll keep you safe. Once you're at Hogwarts, you'll be safe—the professors at school will protect you."
Harry sat for a while on the sofa in the sitting room, and Mrs Weasley poured him a glass of water.
He'd wanted tea, but Mrs Weasley absolutely refused to make him any—tea would only make his insomnia worse.
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