Searching Under Watch

Harry's eyes flickered from one building to the next, scanning every brick, every faded sign, every detail that might lead him to the alley in his dreams.

The Dursleys had dragged him along on another miserable trip to London, giving him yet another opportunity to search. As they bustled through the crowded streets, Vernon muttering about "filthy city folk," Harry let himself fall slightly behind.

He had to be careful, any hint that he was up to something and Vernon wouldn't hesitate to make him regret it.

But he was close.

For days now, he had kept an eye out for anything familiar. He had walked these streets before, perhaps not in waking life, but in his dreams. The uneven cobblestones, the narrow alleyways, the sense that something was just out of reach.

And then there was the sign.

A worn-down wooden sign, swaying slightly on rusted chains. No words, no bright lettering. Just the faded image of a cauldron.

Harry had seen it before. He knew he had.

But no one else seemed to notice.

People walked by without a glance, their eyes sliding past it as if their minds refused to register its existence. Even when he stopped and focused, he found his gaze slipping, his thoughts clouding.

Magic. It had to be magic.

He clenched his fists. He was close, but something was missing. He needed more.

Harry has consistently been slipping away from the Dursleys, giving him time to meet with Hermione at their local library per usual looking for information

"The Leaky Cauldron," Hermione announced, eyes alight with excitement.

Harry straightened in his chair. "What?"

"I found something," she said eagerly, pushing a book toward him. "I had to dig through the old history section, but look at this."

Harry scanned the page. The passage was brief, barely a footnote in a long discussion about London's hidden histories.

Some alleys and buildings in London have been reported to "vanish" from public view. One of the most infamous of these is the Leaky Cauldron, a supposed tavern whose presence has been forgotten by all but a select few.

His breath caught.

Leaky Cauldron. A tavern. Forgotten by all but a select few.

Harry's mind raced back to the dream, the flickering golden light, the worn wooden door, the quiet hum of something powerful beyond it.

His hand tightened on the page.

"I've seen it," he whispered.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

He hesitated. He couldn't yet tell her about the dreams. "I think I've passed it before," he said carefully. "But I didn't know what it was."

Hermione leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity. "Then this is it! If it's hidden from people, that must be why no one talks about it."

Harry nodded slowly. The book didn't explain how to get inside, but it didn't need to. He had all the pieces now.

He just needed an opportunity.

"Meet me at the library in three days," Hermione said firmly. "If you find anything else, anything at all, we'll go over it together."

Harry hesitated. "What if I can't make it?"

Hermione frowned, thinking. "Then… I'll wait as long as I can. But we need to be careful. If it's a secret, we might not get many chances."

He nodded. Three days. He just had to find a way to get away.

Over the next few days, Harry grew restless. He needed a chance to slip away, to get back to that street. But the Dursleys were watching him.

Vernon already noticed that Harry had been slipping away.

"You've been acting odd, boy," he growled one evening, narrowing his piggish eyes at Harry over dinner. "If I catch you doing anything unnatural—"

"I haven't done anything," Harry said quickly, lowering his gaze.

"See that you don't."

Dudley, ever the opportunist, grinned. "He's probably got a screw loose. Maybe he's seeing things. I could knock it out of him if you want, Dad."

Harry clenched his fork but said nothing.

Petunia, for once, didn't join in. She just watched him, something unreadable in her sharp gaze.

She knew. Maybe she didn't know what, exactly, but she could sense the change in him.

Harry forced himself to stay still. He couldn't afford to give them any reason to lock him inside.

He had to be patient.

That night, lying on his thin mattress, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling, mind racing.

He knew where to go now. The Leaky Cauldron was the key.

The question was how.

If he tried to run, the Dursleys would notice. He needed an excuse, an opportunity.

Luckily it arrived in the form of the lovely ickle Duddykins

The morning was unusually humid, the air thick with the scent of pavement baked by the sun. The Dursleys had planned another outing, some shopping Vernon insisted was important while Petunia fretted over making sure Dudley had everything he needed.

Harry trudged behind them, careful to keep his face blank. He knew better than to show anything that might give away his thoughts. He had learned that long ago.

It wasn't until they passed an ice cream parlor that Dudley, already sweaty and red-faced, began whining.

"Mum, I want one!" Dudley stomped a foot, jowls quivering with indignation. "I need ice cream!"

Petunia sighed, already digging into her handbag. "Oh, of course, Diddy. Let's get you—"

"Not wasting another pound on that nonsense," Vernon cut in, puffing out his chest. "Harry can go fetch it."

Harry stilled, keeping his expression neutral.

Vernon shot him a sharp look. "You heard me. There's a shop just around the corner. Two cones, and don't dawdle." He fished out a few coins and slapped them into Harry's palm.

Petunia hesitated, pursing her lips. "Make sure he comes right back, Vernon."

"He knows better than to try anything," Vernon said, his tone thick with warning.

Harry nodded quickly and walked off, gripping the coins tightly. But as soon as he turned the corner, his pace quickened.

This was it.

He forced himself to walk normally until he was far enough away, then darted into a narrow side street. His heart pounded, his breath shallow. He had minutes, maybe more if they were too distracted with Dudley's whining.

He knew exactly where to go.

Weaving through the streets, he let his instincts guide him.

The Leaky Cauldron. The hidden world of magic. It was real. It had to be.

And then, there it was.

The sign hung just as it had before, unmoving despite the faint breeze. The faded image of the cauldron seemed to stare at him as if daring him to step closer.

Harry swallowed hard, glancing around. No one seemed to notice the old tavern. People walked past without so much as a glance. It was just like Hermione had said, it vanished from people's awareness.

But not from his.

He took a deep breath, heart hammering, and stepped forward.

His fingers curled around the handle.

And he pushed the door open.