Soon enough, two cats and one dog went dashing off with startled cries, while Harold shifted back into feline form and swiftly darted through the woods.

Now wasn't the time to expose Sirius Black's identity—not yet. He wanted to catch him in the act, caught red-handed as Sirius Black, not just as an ordinary stray black dog.

Everything Harold had said earlier had been to put Sirius at ease, to make him believe Harold hadn't noticed he was really a wizard in disguise.

And what Harold was about to do next definitely wasn't something he wanted others seeing—no one, under any circumstances.

This setup was perfect.

Besides, with how massive that black dog was, even if Tom gave him a thorough beating, the most he'd suffer would be a few scratches.

Harold soon emerged from the forest.

Ahead lay a winding path, and in the distance, a winged boar statue loomed.

It was the statue at Hogwarts' front gate, standing tall and unmistakable even from far away.

Once Harold reached this point, he slowed down.

His paws pressed into the withered grass as he crept forward. Around a bend, the air turned colder.

A Dementor—shrouded entirely in a hooded cloak—floated a short distance ahead, patrolling slowly.

Harold immediately transformed back into a human and began focusing, calling up memories that sparked joy.

The first wand he ever crafted…

His arrival at Hogwarts…

Creating Silvermane, The Horcrux Codex, and Serpent's Eye…

As those joyful memories built up, it was as if Harold had sliced open a steaming steak—the aroma of happiness wafted straight into the "nostrils" of the Dementor (if it even had any).

It was delicious.

The scent of joy sent the Dementor into a frenzy. It hadn't tasted anything this rich since leaving Azkaban.

Driven by instinct, it floated in Harold's direction, drawn helplessly to that sweet, intoxicating essence.

The closer it got, the thicker the scent became. It was as if joy itself had solidified and was slamming into its face.

Dementors loved feeding on happiness—but too much of it? Too concentrated? It stopped being appealing and started becoming dangerous.

That's the power of a Patronus.

Infused with pure joy and hope, a Patronus becomes a physical guardian capable of repelling even the darkest of creatures.

And right now, what this Dementor was experiencing made a Patronus seem tame by comparison.

It felt like being hit full-force by an invisible wall.

Then it saw it—a glowing unicorn, galloping forward with its horn lowered.

The Dementor didn't know what that creature was, but its entire being recoiled in instinctive terror.

Its form trembled uncontrollably.

Before it could retreat, the unicorn charged and struck it squarely in the chest.

"Shrreeeeek!"

It let out an unearthly screech, followed by ragged, wheezing breaths.

Even after taking two hits, it was still alive—barely. It began to drift back toward the forest's edge in panic, desperate to find the others.

Then it turned—and saw a cat.

A cat with glowing orange eyes.

It froze.

The unicorn charged again.

If anyone had passed through the forest just then, they would've seen the underbrush suddenly coated in frost—as if winter had descended in an instant.

But under the sun, the frost quickly vanished.

…

A few minutes later, Harold returned to Hogsmeade and entered Honeydukes.

"Harold—there you are!" Ron squeezed through the crowd. "We've been looking all over for you!"

Soon after, Hermione arrived, holding a Honeydukes paper bag.

"We already finished picking," she said. "What about you?"

"I was just about to pay," Harold replied, grabbing a few boxes off the shelf. "These, and two boxes of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Should last a while."

"These are fancy sweets," Ron said enviously. Dıscover more novels at n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

He and Hermione had spent five Sickles combined. One of Harold's boxes alone cost a Galleon—and he had five.

That was enough Every-Flavour Beans to last until graduation.

"We'll share," Harold said with a smile.

"Really?" Ron's eyes lit up. "I wanna try the Honeybee Fudge. But not the Swamp Muck Cake—heard that one's gross. Why'd you even pick that?"

"Huh?" Harold glanced down. "Oh, that one's not for me."

He kept his face straight. "It's for Tom's new pet dog. Just a little gift."

"Wait, what did you just say?" Ron blinked.

"Tom's dog. Why?"

"But Tom's your pet, isn't he?"

"Sure. But those things aren't mutually exclusive," Harold replied with a shrug, heading to the register.

Ron stood there frowning, like his brain had overheated.

After Honeydukes, they visited the Owl Post Office.

Roughly two hundred owls perched on high racks, each tagged with a colored ribbon indicating their flight speed.

Across from the post office was Dervish and Banges—a magical equipment and repair shop selling practical items like sneakoscopes, remembralls, and self-stirring cauldrons.

Hermione bought a sneakoscope that screamed when you forgot to do your homework.

"You'd have to be mental to waste money on that," Ron muttered as they left. "If only one student turned in their assignment, it'd still be you."

"I usually don't forget," Hermione said. "But with everything going on lately, better safe than sorry."

"I'm getting tired," Ron added. "How about we hit the Three Broomsticks? I heard it's even better than the Leaky Cauldron."

"It's not that much better," Harold said. "But yeah, some people prefer it. You'll see why soon enough."

As they reached the Three Broomsticks, Ron—at the head of the group—pushed the door open eagerly.

Behind the counter stood Madam Rosmerta, with her golden hair and dazzling smile.

"You were right," Ron whispered, throat bobbing. "Way better than the Leaky Cauldron."

…

(End of Chapter)