Chapter 100

Hope stood there, her posture steady, her breathing just a little uneven from spar had come before. She wore a rusty reddish-brown athletic tank top, the fabric clinging enough to show her movements but loose enough to keep her comfortable. The scoop neckline and standard shoulder straps gave it a no-nonsense, practical look, and the slight racerback cut allowed her full range of motion. Black sports bra straps peeked clearly from beneath, adding a layered, functional edge to her outfit.

Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, strands loose around her face, the ends slightly damp from exertion. A fine sheen of sweat on her skin caught the muted light filtering in through the high windows. Nothing fancy. Just a girl who'd been pushing herself hard, focused and unshaken.

Hope circles slowly across the gym floor, her staff gripped firmly in both hands. Across from her, Alexander mirrors her stance, calm, focused.

Their staffs tap once—light, testing—then again with more force. The sparring begins.

Hope strikes first. A sharp, diagonal cut through the air. Alexander meets it with a clean block, the wood cracking loudly on contact. Neither flinches. They pivot, move. The rhythm quickens.

Hope ducks beneath a sweeping arc, her ponytail brushing her shoulder as she counters with a jab to Alexander's ribs. He twists just in time, the blow glancing off harmlessly.

Alexander grinned at her."You're getting faster."

Hope doesn't answer. She presses forward, driving him back with a flurry of strikes—controlled, precise, relentless. Alexander absorbs each hit, shifting his footing, parrying smoothly. He looks for his opening.

He finds it.

A sudden pivot, a sweep at her legs. Hope jumps, landing light on her feet, staff already snapping up to deflect his next swing. Their eyes meet briefly in the clash—determination, challenge, respect.

They break apart, circling again. Both breathing harder now.

Hope frowned and said."Still holding back?"

Alexander smirks, feints left, then strikes right. Hope catches it this time—barely.

"Maybe a little."

The staffs meet again with a solid thud. Neither gives ground.

In the silence between hits, there's understanding. This isn't about winning. It's about pushing each other to the edge.

Hope exhales, resets her grip.

Ready for more.

They took a break, the steady rhythm of sparring giving way to the quieter sounds of breathing and the soft creak of the old gym floor. Hope unscrewed her water bottle, tilting it back for a long drink. The cold water helped settle the heat in her chest, but her thoughts weren't on the training anymore.

She broke the silence without much ceremony."Do you think Dumbledore sent Molly and Ron Weasley to watch Harry? To report on him?"

Alexander, leaning against the wall, furrowed his brow. He considered her question, not rushing to answer.

"Dumbledore trusts the Weasleys," he said after a beat. "Probably figured they'd be a good influence. A light touch. Family warmth, that sort of thing."

He took a slow drink of his own water before adding, "But yeah… I don't doubt he wanted eyes on Harry. Eyes that would tell him everything."

Hope watched the sunlight bleeding through the high windows, catching in the dust that hung between them.

"So it was surveillance," she said, more to herself than to him.

Alexander didn't argue. He didn't need to.

Alexander pushed off the wall, straightening as he capped his water bottle.

"Let's go visit Harry," he said. "I mean… we should at least see him off at the station."

Hope gave a small nod. She didn't need much convincing.

She swept her hand in a smooth, practiced arc through the air. Golden-orange sparks ignited in her wake, tracing the outline of a swirling portal. The circle completed with a sharp hum, revealing the hazy image of King's Cross Station beyond it — people moving like shadows on the other side.

Alexander didn't waste time. Neither did Hope.

Both of them ran straight through, the fiery ring vanishing in a cascade of sparks the moment they were gone.

The gym stood silent again, save for the faint scorch mark where the portal had opened.

Hagrid led Harry through the crowded station with ease, towering over the crowds as people moved out of his way without even realizing why. When they reached the barrier between platforms, Hagrid handed Harry a small piece of parchment.

"There yeh go. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," Hagrid said cheerfully. "That's your ticket."

Harry glanced down at it. The lettering shimmered faintly. Platform 9¾ — Hogwarts Express. He looked up to ask how exactly this worked—

But Hagrid was already gone.

Gone, without a word.

Harry blinked at the empty space where the half-giant had been just a moment before. Around him, the station churned with noise and movement: families rushing, guards shouting over loudspeakers, the screech of a distant train.

And here he was. Alone.

Harry exhaled, staring down at the ticket in his hand.

"Hagrid definitely isn't responsible enough to be sent to pick up a student," he muttered under his breath. "What is Dumbledore playing at?"

"Harry?"

The voice cut through the noise, familiar and warm.

Harry turned — and to his surprise, there was Neville, weaving his way toward him through the crowd. Behind him came Frank and Alice Longbottom, both looking healthy, both smiling as they reached Harry.

"There you are." Frank said, clapping Harry gently on the shoulder. "Big day, huh?"

Alice offered him the same bright smile she gave Neville, her hand resting lightly on her son's arm as if steadying him in the crowd.

Neville spoke up."I found your letter, so came to accompany you."

Alice nodded and added."Since you may not know about the plateform. We came quickly."

Harry felt something warm settle in his chest. After the Mikaelsons, the Longbottoms were the closest thing he had to family. It wasn't blood — it didn't need to be.

He was about to speak when a sudden circle of golden-orange sparks ignited mid-air, swirling like fire. A portal tore open in the middle of the platform, drawing a few surprised looks from passersby.

From it stepped Alexander and Hope.

Harry's face lit up. All the tension vanished from his shoulders as he broke into a grin and ran straight to them.

"Alex! Hope!"

He hugged them both at once — awkward, messy, but genuine.

Alexander chuckled, clapping Harry lightly on the back.

"Did you really think we'd miss this?" he said, half-teasing.

Harry pulled back, his smile wide. "No. Not really."

Hope gave him a softer look, her usual guarded expression easing just a little.

"Don't worry," she said. "Father, Uncle Elijah, Kol and Freya are already waiting for you on the other side of the platform."

That made Harry's smile brighten even more. Somehow, knowing that — knowing they were there too — made this whole leaving-for-Hogwarts thing feel less like stepping into the unknown.