Harry pressed his lips together until they formed a thin, bloodless line, blinking rapidly as the harsh reality of the situation finally formed in his mind.
He finally understood why Sirius looked so defensive– he believed that Voldemort was stirring from the shadows, gradually regaining his power, and would certainly make a move inevitably setting his sights on Harry as his primary target.
The timing couldn't have been worse, with the mysterious circumstances surrounding the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts now directly involving Hermione, his closest and most trusted friend.
Harry could see it written plainly across Sirius's face - he was terrified that Harry, true to his impulsive Gryffindor nature, might throw caution to the winds and do something catastrophically reckless that would put him directly in harm's way.
A wave of irritation washed over Harry. He had foolishly hoped that Sirius would finally stop treating him like some naive child who needed constant protection, who couldn't possibly understand the seriousness of the situation. But here they were again, with his godfather's protective instincts clearly unchanged despite everything they'd been through together.
Hermione, noticing the subtle shifts in Harry's mood, gently nudged his arm with her elbow. Her touch was light but insistent as she gestured for him to truly look at Sirius - not just see him, but really observe the man sitting before them.
What Harry saw made his heart constrict painfully in his chest.
Sirius sat there, his dark eyes fixed on where he knew Harry to be beneath the Invisibility Cloak, though they held none of the mischievous sparkle Harry remembered from those photographs. Instead, they were filled with a deep, almost overwhelming melancholy, his entire demeanor radiating a cautious concern.
The sight triggered a memory that made Harry's eyes burn with sudden emotion - the wedding photograph in the album Hagrid had given him, where a young handsome Sirius had stood proudly as his father's best man.
The obvious contrast to the man before him now was heart-wrenching. That youthful vigor had been stripped away by years in Azkaban, replaced by premature aging and an ever-present wariness that seemed to weigh down his very soul. Where once stood a man, who laughed in the face of danger, now sat someone who had learned the true cost of recklessness through bitter experience.
"Fine..." Harry finally grumbled, the word coming out rough with suppressed emotion. His annoyance warred with his affection for Sirius as he added, "I'll try not to be reckless, okay?"
The promise felt like pulling teeth, but he couldn't bear to see that worried look in Sirius's eyes any longer.
Hermione's sudden burst of laughter broke the tension— she, better than anyone, knew what a massive concession this was for Harry, who seemed to attract danger like a magnet attracts iron filings.
"Well, some reasonable adventures are still acceptable—" Sirius's whole demeanor transformed as he let out a heavy sigh of relief, his shoulders straightening as though a great weight had been lifted from them. A bright smile spread across his face, erasing years of worry lines in an instant. "I'm guessing you haven't had lunch, have you?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sirius raised his hand high in the air, calling out to Madam Rosmerta who was bustling behind the bar counter. "Excuse me— Could we get some food? I'm starving—and plenty of it, please!"
His voice carried the warmth of genuine enthusiasm now that the heavier part of their conversation had passed.
When Madam Rosmerta arrived with a platter of chicken sandwiches, the aroma wafting from them was heavenly.
Both Harry and Hermione realized just how famished they were - their magical education wasn't just mentally demanding, but physically as well. Their bodies were going through rapid growth, both physically and magically, requiring enormous amounts of energy to sustain. After a careful glance around the crowded pub, they eagerly reached out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
Sirius watched with undisguised amusement as the sandwiches seemed to disappear into thin air, accompanied by the sounds of eager chewing. His eyes crinkled with warmth as he casually asked, "By the way, I forgot to ask, why didn't Ron come with you? Is James's Invisibility Cloak too small for all three of you now?"
The question landed like a stone in still water. Hermione's posture suddenly stiffened, radiating discomfort. Though she knew Sirius couldn't possibly see her eyes beneath the cloak, she found herself avoiding his general direction nonetheless, as if his gaze could pierce through the fabric of Invisibility cloak.
"Well—" Harry forced down his mouthful of food, his voice tinged with unmistakable displeasure, "I invited him, but he didn't want to come. He borrowed the Firebolt, said he wanted to play some Quidditch—"
"Oh." The simple word carried volumes of understanding as Sirius's smile dimmed slightly. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to a gentle probe, "Has Ron been unhappy lately?"
The timing of the question couldn't have been worse - Harry had just taken another large bite of his sandwich. His violent coughing fit as he choked on his food was mercifully masked by the general noise of the busy pub.
He grabbed desperately for the butterbeer Sirius had secretly slipped under the cloak, taking several large gulps while Hermione patted his back with increasing concern. Finally with his face flushed crimson from the ordeal, he managed to recover his composure.
"How did you know?!" The words burst from Harry in a gasp, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Sirius.
"Isn't it obvious?" Rather than showing satisfaction at his insight, Sirius's expression deepened with genuine concern. "Harry, Hermione, and Ron, you three have always been inseparable, the closest of friends. Harry, your fame has always been a given - everyone knows the Boy Who Lived. And now Hermione has become a Triwizard Champion, in what I'm hearing will be the most significant Tournament in history."
Sirius leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to ensure privacy. "Bryan has apparently negotiated an agreement with the goblins to broadcast the competition throughout other European countries. The only reason the Daily Prophet hasn't been hounding you for interviews, Hermione, is because they're pouring all their resources into promoting this historic event. Once the competition begins, Hermione will become an international celebrity in her own right. That leaves only Ron..." He trailed off meaningfully.
After a moment's silence, Sirius's brows furrowed deeply and he continued, "From what I understand of Ron's personality, he's not particularly emotionally mature or capable of handling pressure. It's natural for him to feel alone and unhappy, but surely, you've all sat down and had a proper discussion about this? Haven't you?"
Harry turned to look at Hermione, only to find her shrinking away, deliberately avoiding his gaze. With increasing confusion, he slowly turned back to Sirius, his mouth slightly wide open as he began to realize the implications.
"What are you talking about, Sirius?"
Sirius caught his breath, taking a few moments to choose his words carefully before responding with gentle resignation, "Haven't you realized, Harry, that Ron might be jealous of you and Hermione?"
'Ron? Jealous?'
The concept seemed so far-off that his mind initially rejected it outright. But, Harry's eyes widened as the bustling pub around him seemed to fade into a blur, the chattering patrons, even Hermione and Sirius beside him, becoming distant and indistinct, as though they existed in another dimension entirely.
As if a dam had broken in Harry's mind, memories began flooding back with crystal clarity. His thoughts raced backward through time, reviewing Ron's behavior with new understanding - from the moment Hermione's name had echoed through the stunned silence of the Great Hall just a week ago, to their departure from Hogwarts few hours ago. Every sullen look, every muttered excuse, every moment Ron had withdrawn from their company - it all took on a new, painful significance.
"Jealous."
The word felt like acid on Harry's tongue, igniting a fire in his chest that tried to consume him from within. The heat of it was suffocating, pressing against his lungs with each breath.
"Jealous of what?" Harry's voice emerged barely above a whisper, but laden with building fury. "Jealous of my ugly scar that makes people stare and whisper wherever I go? Or maybe he's jealous that someone's targeting Hermione, plotting to use this Tournament to finish her off—"
A heavy silence fell between them as Harry continued his bitter monologue, his voice growing more strained with each word. "This is ridiculous. All this time, I thought he was worried about Hermione... maybe even scared for her safety, but to be jealous? To actually withdraw from us because of petty jealousy? It's beyond stupid."
Harry's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the tendons creaking audibly under the strain. The fire that had been building in his chest now blazed in his eyes as he slowly turned to look at Hermione. The expression of distress on her face told him everything he needed to know even before he asked the question.
"You realized it already, didn't you?" His voice was deadly quiet now. "When was it?"
Hermione remained silent for a moment.
Finally, she responded in a small voice, "That night when I returned to Gryffindor Tower."
Harry's breathing suddenly became erratic. The friendship he had thought was unshakeable- it had developed deep, dangerous cracks, and both Hermione and Ron had been aware of it while he had wandered about in blissful ignorance like a complete fool!
"Why," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, each word feeling like it might shatter his jaw, "why didn't you tell me—"
The sight of tears welling up in Hermione's eyes gave him pause, but she seemed unable to form an answer to his question. What could she possibly say?
From his position across the table, Sirius could hear the heavy, agitated breathing coming from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and could well imagine Harry's current state of mind. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke softly.
"Perhaps you all need some honest communication. Harry, I think you two need to talk to Ron. You can't simply ignore your friend's feelings."
Sirius's expression grew distant, haunted by memories. "You know about what happened between me, Remus, your father James, and Peter... Lately, I've found myself thinking, Harry, if we had paid more attention to Peter back at Hogwarts... if we had noticed his struggles, his insecurities... maybe, just maybe, he might have stayed on the right path—"
Harry stared at Sirius in utter disbelief. The betrayal of Peter Pettigrew had directly led to his parents' deaths at Voldemort's hands, and Sirius had spent twelve years in the living hell of Azkaban because of it. Harry knew, perhaps better than anyone, the depth of hatred Sirius harbored for his former friend. To hear such words of reflection and regret from him was nothing short of shocking.
"I'll talk to Ron!"
The words exploded from Harry as he shot to his feet, the sudden movement causing the Invisibility Cloak to slide off, exposing both him and Hermione to the startled gazes of nearby patrons.
The pub's other customers stared in shock at their sudden appearance, but Harry was beyond caring about such trivial matters. His chest heaved with each breath as he continued through gritted teeth,
"But before that, I'm going to punch him in the nose! Maybe that'll knock some sense into his thick head!"
"Harry!"
Without another word, Harry snatched up his Invisibility Cloak and bolted toward the door. Hermione lunged after him, her fingers managing to brush the hem of his robes before they slipped away like water through her grasp.
Harry rushed forward, ignoring the curious stares following his progress through the pub. The fire of betrayal burning inside him threatened to consume all rational thought. He couldn't believe Ron could have such foolish thoughts, and especially, his behavior of hiding these thoughts seemed more like betrayal in Harry's eyes!
Just as he was about to push open the door, someone outside pulled it open first, intending to enter the Three Broomsticks. Harry's momentum was too great to stop - he crashed headlong into the entering customer. The collision was violent, and the person on the other side clearly wasn't prepared for such an impact. A pained cry pierced the air as she was thrown backward, directly into the arms of the man standing behind her!
Bryan steadied Fleur, who had suddenly fallen into his arms, looked at her tear-filled eyes and bleeding nose, then glanced at Harry who was holding his forehead against the bar counter, and was rendered speechless.
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