HRHL# CHAPTER 220

By the Black Lake, after Harry's mother scolded his father, she turned and stormed off. The black-haired boy grinned mischievously, teasing Harry’s father, James Potter, with a familiar nickname…

“Down on your luck, Prongs?”

Was this a relic of his father’s?

“We don’t know whose it was, but whoever made this thing was an absolute genius,” Fred and George said from the side. “Look at this— the map covers all of Hogwarts, even marking people who don’t belong here. See, Nicolas Flamel is in the Headmaster’s office right now, sitting next to Aberforth Dumbledore, the owner of the Hog’s Head. I had no idea Flamel was at Hogwarts; I always thought he was still in France.”

“If someone who doesn’t belong at Hogwarts is here, they’ll show up on the map,” George added. “I reckon if Black sneaks into the school, you’d spot him on this—”

“So, did you two find anything unusual last year?” Harry asked, scratching his chin.

“Oh, absolutely,” Fred and George said in unison. “We spotted Gellert Grindelwald, didn’t we? Our very own Gail Scamander, the teaching assistant. Honestly, I’ve always thought the greatest prankster of our time has to be our Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. I mean, who else could convince a world-famous dark wizard to come to Hogwarts as a teaching assistant? Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, no less!”

“If you don’t understand dark magic, how can you teach Defense Against it properly?” Harry said with a shrug.

“Exactly, Harry!” Fred grinned, his expression screaming great minds think alike.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs,” George sighed, patting the map’s title. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble souls, tirelessly working to aid the next generation of rule-breakers,” Fred said solemnly.

“I think they’re brilliant too,” Harry said, touching the map with a hint of wistfulness.

Hearing Harry’s tone, the twins looked even more pleased.

“We’re thrilled you feel the same way about them as we do, Harry. It proves we didn’t entrust this map to the wrong person,” Fred and George said, handing the parchment to Harry with a reverence akin to fathers giving away their daughter at a wedding.

“Thank you,” Harry said earnestly, grateful for the twins’ trust, whether he needed the map or not.

He carefully tucked it away, planning to study it later.

But…

Who was Moony? And what about Padfoot and Wormtail?

Could they be the “Padfoot” and “Wormtail” from his memories?

With these questions swirling in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Harry received a letter from Professor Sprout, informing him that he could harvest the mallowsweet leaves tomorrow.

Delighted, Harry fed Hedwig some owl tonic and sent her off again.

As he got up, he heard a commotion downstairs.

“Keep your coffee mug away from me!”

It was Percy’s voice, brimming with anger.

Harry went downstairs and saw the Weasley family gathered around the long table, along with Hermione, who had her parrot, Jack, perched on her shoulder, methodically preening her hair.

Taking a seat on the bench, Harry asked curiously, “What’s going on, Ron? What’s the matter?”

“Because I got a bit of coffee on his precious Penelope’s photo,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. “Merlin’s beard, it was just a splash. Talk about petty.”

“Congratulations, Ronnie-kins,” Fred and George said in unison. “Making Percy that upset? You’ve got some of our spark, mate.”

“No thanks,” Ron said, still wrinkling his nose. “Be like you two? Merlin, Mum would have a heart attack.”

Mrs. Weasley jumped in immediately. “Yes, you lot will be the death of me! Having you two is already the greatest blessing of my life— may Merlin preserve me!”

Over breakfast, the conversation revolved around Percy and Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect. Percy’s face flushed red, but he didn’t deny the family’s teasing— after all, Mr. Weasley had started it.

It was the first day of term, but this time, things felt different.

Mr. Weasley informed Harry that the Ministry of Magic had arranged special cars to take them to King’s Cross Station.

Harry hadn’t expected such treatment, but Mr. Weasley explained that Minister Fudge was already frantic over Sirius Black’s escape. If Harry were attacked, Fudge’s position as Minister would be untenable.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes inwardly. To Fudge, keeping his job seemed more important than protecting Harry— or rather, protecting Harry was just a means to secure his position.

They gathered their luggage, crossed the pavement, and approached the two vintage dark green cars arranged by the Ministry. The driver of the first car was a wizard in a garish emerald velvet suit, his expression sly.

“All right, in you go,” Mr. Weasley said to Harry. “You, Ron, Fred, and George take one car. Ginny, Percy, your mother, and I will take the other.”

Ron was visibly relieved not to be sharing a car with Percy, especially after their recent spat.

Percy’s lovesick behavior— practically forgetting his siblings now that he had a girlfriend— earned him Ron’s utmost scorn.

Soon, they arrived at King’s Cross Station. Under Mr. Weasley’s brisk direction, they disembarked and made their way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Mrs. Weasley kissed them all goodbye, including Hermione and Harry. Finally, Mr. Weasley said, “All set? Hop on the train!”

“Wait,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling some Galleons from her deep green handbag. “I didn’t pack sandwiches today. Take these and buy something to eat on the train.”

The Weasley children, who had been dreading the sight of their mother’s green bag expecting sandwiches, erupted into cheers. Sandwiches weren’t bad, but after so many… well, they were a bit much.

“You’d better get on board,” Mr. Weasley said, turning to Harry. “Harry, remember what I told you, all right?”

“Of course, thank you, Uncle Arthur,” Harry replied politely.

As they boarded, Percy left with Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect in her house robes, amidst his siblings’ teasing jeers.

The Weasley twins found their friend Lee Jordan, who, rumor had it, had acquired a massive scorpion to show them.

“Your prediction last year was spot-on,” Ron said to Hermione. “Didn’t you say Lee Jordan would get his hands on a big scorpion this year? And he did.”

“What about next year?” Harry asked Hermione.

As they spoke, Ginny wandered off to join her friends.

“Something even weirder and creepier,” Hermione said, shuddering as if picturing some ghastly creature. “Come on, let’s get on the train before all the compartments are taken.”

Harry and Ron followed Hermione onto the Hogwarts Express, searching for an empty compartment. Every one was full— except the very last.

Inside, a lone figure sat by the window, fast asleep, looking utterly exhausted.

The trio paused at the threshold.

The Hogwarts Express was typically for students, and they’d never seen an adult here before, save for the witch with the food trolley.

The stranger wore a tattered wizard’s robe, patched in several places. He looked sickly and worn out. Though he seemed young, his light brown hair was streaked with white.

It was clear this wizard’s life hadn’t been easy, leaving him weary and drained.

“Who do you reckon he is?” Ron whispered.

They sat down, closing the door and positioning themselves as far from the window as possible.

“Professor R.J. Lupin,” Hermione said softly.

“How’d you know that?” Ron asked, eyeing her suspiciously. “Sometimes I think Snape’s nickname for you— Miss Know-It-All— is dead on.”

Hermione didn’t take offense; she seemed to have embraced the title.

“It’s written on his luggage,” she replied, pointing to the rack above his head.

There sat a battered suitcase, tied with ropes and neatly knotted. The words “Professor R.J. Lupin” were printed in one corner, the letters peeling.

“Wonder what he teaches?” Ron said, frowning at Lupin’s profile.

“Really, Ron?” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Think about it. Which professor had to resign last term due to… certain incidents?”

Ron’s face lit up with realization. “Oh, right— Professor Rosier! Merlin, I still don’t get it. Rosier was brilliant, wasn’t she? She even helped the Ministry catch that fraud Lockhart. A respectable witch like her, forced out by parents? It’s ridiculous. I can’t imagine anyone better suited for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Let’s hope Professor Lupin is at least as good,” Hermione said quietly, glancing at him.

The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily north, the scenery outside growing wilder as the sky darkened, heavy clouds brewing a storm.

People passed by their compartment, footsteps echoing in the corridor.

At noon, the trolley witch arrived. Ron and Harry bought a heap of snacks to serve as lunch.

“This is lunch?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“Eat or don’t,” Ron said, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth.

“I think the professor could use some food,” Hermione said, eyeing Lupin. She reached out to nudge him. “Professor? Professor? Sorry—”

But Lupin was sound asleep, unmoving.

“Don’t worry, dear,” the trolley witch said, handing Harry a cauldron cake. “If he wakes up hungry, he can find me up front with the driver.”

She gave Harry a playful wink, as if they shared a secret. And they did— a century ago, this same witch was pushing her trolley on the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione glanced worriedly at Lupin but started nibbling on the snacks.

By afternoon, rain poured outside, blurring the outlines of distant hills in a relentless downpour.

The atmosphere grew tense as rapid footsteps approached.

“Harry?”

Draco’s voice came from the doorway. Before Harry could look up, Draco squeezed in beside him, holding a cauldron cake he’d bought.

“Hey!” Ron protested. “Watch it, that’s our cake.”

Draco tore open the wrapper, broke off a piece, and popped it in his mouth. After savoring it, he declared, “Not great.”

He set the cake on the table and turned to Ron. “Weasley— I’m here to challenge you. Once the dueling club starts, I’m taking you on. This time, I’ll crush you!”

“Crush me?” Ron scoffed, as if it were a joke. “You?”

Draco smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Harry. “Sebastian taught me a few tricks. I’m confident I can beat Weasley this time—”

Sebastian taught him?

Harry considered this. Ron might be in trouble. Everyone knew Sebastian Sallow’s dueling skills were top-notch. With his guidance, Draco’s abilities would likely have improved significantly.

“Bring it on,” Ron said defiantly. “This time, I’ll make you eat your words—”

Draco chuckled, then, quick as lightning, snatched a Chocolate Frog from beside Ron and bolted from the compartment.

“Hey, that thief!” Ron fumed.

“He took it right in front of you,” Hermione corrected. “That makes him a robber, not a thief.”

“Same difference,” Ron muttered, cheeks puffed out.

T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!