Harry didn't linger long at the Leaky Cauldron. The Weasleys soon whisked him off to the Burrow, where the summer unfolded in peaceful domesticity. Without the Egyptian escapade from the original tale, their holiday passed without incident—calm rather than dull, thanks to Mrs. Weasley's hearty meals and the easy camaraderie of his Gryffindor friends.
This tranquility suited Sirius Black and Lupin perfectly. No longer did they need to split surveillance duties across distant locations; watching the Burrow covered both Harry and the lurking Peter Pettigrew.
"Moony, aren't you about to start as a professor at Hogwarts? Why bother prepping for that acolyte interview?" Sirius had grown lax since hearing of Lupin's job offer. If his old friend were still scraping by, Sirius might have felt guilty freeloading. But with steady pay incoming, he saw no reason not to lean on him.
Lupin glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Padfoot, you know my situation. I can't teach at Hogwarts indefinitely. Once we nab Peter, I'll resign and move on. The acolytes are the ideal fit afterward."
He left unsaid the perks that made the choice tempting. Acolyte pay rivaled a Hogwarts professor's, with bonuses for fieldwork, plus free meals, dorms, and discounts on magical goods. Off-duty hours were truly free—no endless student worries or castle-bound routines. Climb the ranks, and the acolytes' library opened its secrets. It promised more freedom than the cloistered life at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade.
Sirius huffed. "You're not even in the door, and you're plotting your exit? Their benefits are solid, I'll give you that, but come on."
Lupin offered no rebuttal, just a quiet sigh as he peered through the window at Harry inside the Burrow.
...
Harry had just cleared his breakfast plate and pitched in to help Mrs. Weasley with the dishes when she waved him off. "Leave it, Harry! Go enjoy yourself with Ron and the others—you're on holiday, not on chores."
Arthur Weasley approached, his face grave. "Harry, could we have a word?"
"Of course," Harry replied, puzzled but compliant. He followed Arthur to a quieter corner.
"Harry, some at the Ministry would have my head for this, but you deserve to know. You're in grave danger—extreme danger."
"Is it Sirius Black?" Harry asked, his gaze flicking to the window as realization dawned.
"What do you know about him?"
"Just that he broke out of Azkaban." Harry shook his head when Arthur pressed for more. "Why?"
"Thirteen years ago, when you stopped... that person, Black lost it all. Yet he's still that man's most devoted servant. In his eyes, you're the chief barrier to his master's return to power."
...
From their vantage point nearby, Sirius's scowl deepened to thunderous fury. "Lies! All of it—pure rot! Me, his servant? Have those Ministry idiots got troll bogeys for brains?"
Lupin shot him a sidelong look. "Who told you to confess without a word back then and rot in Azkaban? I half-believed you betrayed James—imagine the Ministry."
Sirius brooded in silence, his mood blacker than ever.
...
"That's why he escaped," Arthur continued. "He's coming for you—to kill you."
Sirius nearly exploded. Me, kill Harry? The absurdity burned. If not for the Weasleys' hospitality, he'd storm in and demand what Arthur was smoking. How could anyone paint him as Voldemort's lapdog?
...
Time sped by, and the new term loomed. Argus, ever the picture of poise, shrank his trunk with a casual Reducio and boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Amiri Caro had graduated, leaving the new Slytherin prefects green and untested. Argus stepped up to guide the house's first-years, patrolling the train alongside the pair. They trailed him like eager shadows, his calm authority drawing envious glances from clusters of admirers—especially the girls.
"Argus!"
Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and the rest rushed over, Astoria trailing shyly at the rear.
"Hang on, Draco—prefect rounds first," Argus said, nodding to the others. "I'll join you after."
They understood; no arguments. After sharing their compartment details, they stepped aside.
Argus pressed on, checking on the Slytherin stragglers. He hadn't gone far when raised voices echoed from the next car.
"You won't believe it—Harry gave me a right fright that day!"
"He inflated his aunt like a balloon and floated her miles up!"
"Miles? Blimey!"
"The Ministry swooped in to save her. If Fudge hadn't shown, Harry might've finished the job—she was slagging off his parents!"
"Fudge himself? Harry met the Minister?"
Harry sat amid the chatter, outwardly modest but inwardly basking in the glow. Ron, ever the loyal sidekick, itched to spill every embarrassing detail just for the spotlight—Harry's threadbare socks, the lot.
---
Enjoying the story? You can read 3-5 chapters ahead right now on Patreon!
New chapters drop there much earlier than Web Novel.
Join P@treon & Read Ahead → https://[email protected]/c/Ren_Saga
Thank you for your support! ❤️