𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 | harry potter

the boy who lived

Hermione and Ron's argument was escalating in volume and intensity, much to Valerie's quiet amusement. She sipped the remains of her soup, thoroughly entertained by their back-and-forth.

"Crookshanks nearly ate Scabbers!" Ron exclaimed, his ears turning red when he leaned across the table toward Hermione. "Crookshanks is a cat, Ron! And Scabbers probably provoked him!" Hermione shot back, her posh tone laced with exasperation.

Valerie was doing her best to stifle a smile when Ron turned to her for support. "Yeah, well... what's your name again?" His question rushed through his pipes. "Valerie Lupin," She answered, unaffected by his lacking memory. 

Ron blinked. "Well then, Valerie would agree that Crookshanks is a—wait, did you say Lupin?" His words faltered, his face shifting into something between surprise and recognition.

Valerie nodded with a polite smile. "I did."

Ron's eyes widened into saucers. "Lupin, like Remus Lupin? My dad used to go on about him—he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, isn't he?" Valerie confirmed his suspicions with a proud nod. "Ron's father works for the Ministry," Hermione interjected, adding much-needed context as she reached for her toast again. She took a sip of tea too, to prepare her voice for the next round of arguments. "He's very well-connected."

"Yeah, Dad said Lupin was a good bloke. Quiet, but sharp. He's filling in to help Dumbledore, then?" Ron questioned. Valerie nodded awkwardly, not knowing how much she was allowed to actually say about her father's agreement with the Headmaster. 

Hermione, finishing her cup of tea, distracted Ron from his questions, by launching into a passionate explanation of why cats were objectively better than rats. Valerie leaned back slightly with a smile on her face. This year was going to be an interesting one, she could feel it. 

"Hello. What's your name?" A creaking voice cut through the din of the bar. Valerie twisted her neck and noticed a hunchbacked witch standing by their table. She was draped in threadbare robes, her face framed by wiry, unkempt grey hair. In her ashen hands, she held an empty coin purse and a deck of hand-painted cards. 

"Tarot readings?" The ancient witch asked, her voice painfully gravelly. She held up the cards, her gnarled fingers curling around them like talons.

For a moment, Valerie hesitated. Something about the witch's hunched figure and desperate face tugged at her morals. She understood what it was to struggle - she had resorted to 'tarot begging' on the winter streets of her hometown when her father was too beaten and bruised to work. The next day she had made a trip to the apothecary to find a cure for her blue and black fingers. 

"Sure," Valerie spoke softly, surprising everyone, including herself. Ron's sister, who introduced herself as Ginny, had travelled over when noticing Hermione and Ron's heated discussion. Valerie reached into her pocket and pulled out two golden galleons, dropping them into the witch's pouch with a gentle clink. She even took a moment to tie the bag's strings in a neat bow. "There," She said. "So it doesn't fall out."

"Ah, thank you, dear," The witch edged herself onto the bench opposite the teenagers. 

"Everyone pick a card," She instructed, her bony hand spreading the cards with practised skill. Ron exchanged a wary glance with Hermione, who folded her arms, clearly unimpressed. Ginny looked equally uneasy, but Valerie simply smiled and reached for a card. The others, perhaps out of politeness or curiosity followed suit.

"Turn it over, dear," The witch said to Ginny, her attention focused on the youngest Weasley. "Go on, Gin," Ron urged, nudging his younger sister. Ginny flipped her card onto the table. It was a bright yellow card labelled Strength, adorned with an image of a woman taming a lion.