In the days leading up to the Hogsmeade weekend, everyone was buzzing with excitement—well, everyone except Harry.
His uncle and aunt had refused to sign his permission slip. According to school rules, no student could go to Hogsmeade without a guardian's signature.
Which meant that while the others enjoyed their weekend in the magical village, Harry would be stuck inside the castle.
The professors, oddly enough, seemed to enforce the rule with an unusual level of strictness. No matter what Harry said, no one would budge.
"They probably think it's safer for you to stay in the castle," Harold said during Divination class, peering into his crystal ball. "Remember what the Daily Prophet said? Someone spotted Sirius Black near Hogsmeade."
"You're saying the professors are keeping me here to protect me?" Harry asked.
"Not entirely. But that's definitely part of it," Harold replied.
"Thanks," Harry sighed. "That makes me feel a little better, I guess." He kept staring at the crystal ball. "Harold, can you actually see anything in there?"
"A little," Harold said.
"Then… what if—just hypothetically—I could go to Hogsmeade with everyone else? Would I run into Sirius Black there?"
Now that sparked Harold's curiosity. He leaned forward and focused on the crystal ball.
Perhaps because he now had a specific goal, the silvery mist inside began to swirl more violently. Soon, colors started to emerge.
A narrow street took shape, lined with pointed rooftops.
On the street, Harry, Ron, and Hermione each held a butterbeer in one hand and bags of sweets in the other, laughing and chatting happily.
But far in the distance, at the edge of the vision, stood a large black dog, silently watching them from the shadows.
"You will," Harold said suddenly. "You'll see Sirius Black. From the moment you step into Hogsmeade, he'll be watching you from afar."
Thunk!
Harry jerked back and bumped into the table. The crystal ball rolled off its stand and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Heads turned.
Neville looked relieved—finally, he wasn't the only one knocking things over.
"Sorry, Professor! It was an accident!" Harry said quickly, scooping up the ball and placing it back on its stand.
But now the colors had vanished. All he could see was the silvery mist again.
"Come on, Harold, don't joke like that," Harry said, rubbing his temples. "I know you're trying to cheer me up, but that was seriously creepy. Professor McGonagall said there are Dementors stationed around Hogsmeade. There's no way Sirius Black could get in with all that security."
"Cheer you up?" Harold raised an eyebrow. That's what Harry thought he was doing?
"Alright then, think what you want. But don't count on the Dementors too much. Sirius Black's already escaped once under their noses. Doing it again wouldn't be surprising."
"Maybe you're right…" Harry muttered, sounding distracted.
Harold didn't press the issue.
…
On Halloween morning, Harold arrived in the Entrance Hall early, joining the group of students being led to Hogsmeade by Professor McGonagall.
As soon as they passed through the main gates, the air turned icy cold.
"Get out of here! These are students!" Professor McGonagall barked furiously.
Two hooded figures cloaked in tattered black rags slowly drifted away. The chill vanished almost instantly.
The students kept walking toward Hogsmeade, but McGonagall was still fuming.
"Those Dementors are getting bolder—trying to attack students now? What is the Ministry playing at? They promised us someone would be watching the Dementors."
"Professor," Harold said carefully. "The Ministry actually assigned someone to supervise them?"
"Of course not. That was Headmaster Dumbledore's condition," she replied, still clearly agitated. "He allowed Dementors near the school only if the Ministry sent trained witches or wizards to control them. But apparently, they've ignored him. I saw no one at the gate—only Dementors."
"No one at all?" Harold's eyes lit up briefly. He quickly added, "I mean, maybe the Ministry's sentry was just resting somewhere?"
"Impossible. I looked carefully," McGonagall huffed. "The Ministry's getting worse by the day. I'm telling the Headmaster immediately."
"Yes, you should definitely tell him," Harold nodded solemnly.
After passing through the gates, they followed a narrow path and soon arrived at Hogsmeade.
The rooftops were exactly as Harold had seen in his crystal ball—steep and pointed, lining both sides of the street.
McGonagall went to the Three Broomsticks, located at the village center, where she could respond quickly to any emergencies.
Fred and George headed to Zonko's to stock up on Dungbombs, Belch Powder, and Whizzing Whizbees. They invited Harold along.
"I'll pass—I want to grab some sweets first," Harold said, joining the crowd heading to Honeydukes.
It was packed. The tiny shop was crammed with people, making it nearly impossible to move.
Harold had come with Ron and Hermione, but the moment they stepped inside, the crowd swept them apart.
Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice. They were too mesmerized by the colorful displays of candy, wide-eyed and smiling. No one realized Harold had quietly slipped back out the opposite door.
Once outside, he turned down a narrow alley behind the shop.
This path also led back toward Hogwarts, though it was rough, narrow, and passed through a dense stretch of woods—so rough that no one ever used it.
Which was exactly what Harold wanted.
He'd "dropped something" at the school gates and needed to retrieve it—without anyone seeing.
He moved quickly into the woods.
Unlike the Forbidden Forest, this was just an ordinary patch of trees. Despite the thick growth, there wasn't a single Bowtruckle or magical beast in sight. Harold lost interest after a quick scan and picked up his pace.
To save time, he transformed into a cat and darted through the underbrush.
Then he heard it—a rustling sound up ahead.
Someone else?
Harold froze.
Then came a familiar meow.
"Meow-aaooow…"
He knew that voice.
He crept forward silently, and sure enough, he soon spotted Tom gnawing on a fat rabbit.
But Tom usually hunted in the Forbidden Forest. What was he doing here?
Trying something new?
Just as Harold spotted Tom, the cat picked up his scent. With a joyful purr, Tom abandoned his two tag-alongs and bounded over, far more agile than a cat of his size had any right to be. He butted Harold affectionately, rubbing his head against his arm.
Unfortunately, Tom seemed to forget that Harold was still in his Animagus form—a small, sleek cat.
The friendly bump felt more like getting tackled by Hagrid.
Harold stumbled back several steps, nearly falling over.
Meanwhile, one of Tom's new "followers" stood frozen in disbelief.
Sirius Black couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The fearless cat boss—the one who'd dared swipe at a three-headed dog—was cuddling?
Yes, cuddling. Sirius had seen enough animals in Azkaban to recognize affectionate behavior. And that was a head rub, unmistakably aimed at a much smaller, younger cat.
Merlin's beard… Maybe that mushroom really was poisonous.
Sirius sat slack-jawed, dog face full of disbelief.
But the next moment made his jaw drop even lower.
The little black cat shimmered—and turned into a boy.
An Animagus!
Sirius's pupils contracted sharply.
It wasn't the transformation that stunned him. He was an Animagus himself, and—well—he'd once had two friends who were, too.
No, what shocked him was the age of this wizard.
Fourteen? Maybe even thirteen?
Sirius had managed it at sixteen, the end of fifth year, and he'd been smug about it for months.
But this boy? Clearly younger.
A strange pang hit Sirius—part shock, part disappointment, part… defeat.
Like a hard-won badge of honor had just been effortlessly claimed by someone else.
…
(End of Chapter)