"The dangerous forest was there firs'."

"Was the forest dangerous when the school was built?"

"Aye."

"Was there some reason why they built next to a dangerous forest instead of somewhere safer then?"

""S a very magical place, Hogwarts grounds."

"Alright, will we be there soon?"

"Aye." He looks around, then beams. "This is it. The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It's a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Sarah probably wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by don't glance at it. Their eyes slide from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they can't see the Leaky Cauldron at all.

More of the same weird attention magic. "Alright." Sarah walks towards the pub.

For a famous place, it's very dark and shabby. A few old women are sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them is smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat's talking to the old bartender, who's quite bald and looks like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stops when they walk in. Everyone seems to know Hagrid; they wave and smile at him, and the bartender reaches for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," says Hagrid, gesturing towards Sarah.

Sarah looks up and smiles a little.

"Good Lord," says the bartender, peering at Sarah, "is this—can this be—?" The Leaky Cauldron suddenly goes completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispers the old bartender, "Sarah Potter... what an honor." He hurries out from behind the bar, rushes toward Sarah and seizes her hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

"Thank you?" She's a little overwhelmed by this experience, maybe she should have expected it but it's kinda uncomfortable.

Everyone is looking at her. The old woman with the pipe's puffing on it without realizing it has gone out. Hagrid's beaming.

Then there's a great scraping of chairs and the next moment everyone in the Leaky Cauldron wants to shake hands with her.

She'll be polite and try to listen to what they have to say.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I’m meeting you at last."

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I’m just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand—I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle," says a man... who once a long time ago bowed to Sarah in a shop.

She'll smile and thank them. "I think I've met you before Mr Diggle."

"She remembers!” cries Dedalus Diggle, his top hat falling as he turns to look around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!"

More people want to shake her hand—Doris Crockford keeps coming back for more—until a pale young man makes his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes is twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" says Hagrid. "Sarah, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammers Professor Quirrell, grasping Sarah's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you as well professor."

Quirrell laughs nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looks terrified at the very thought. 

"Yep, I'm excited to be going to Hogwarts and this is the first step on my journey there."

"O-o-of course."

But the others won't let Professor Quirrell keep Sarah to himself. It takes almost ten minutes to get away from them all. 

At last, Hagrid manages to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on—lots ter buy. Come on, Sarah."

Sarah follows gratefully, she isn't comfortable being the center of attention like that.