Everyone had their own theory about how Sirius Black broke into the castle. For example, Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff insisted that Sirius could turn into a blooming shrub—and delighted in telling anyone willing to listen.

In a way, she was half right. Sirius could indeed change his appearance—but not into a flowering bush.

Harold was discharged from the hospital wing on Monday morning. He didn't miss any classes and even had time for breakfast.

The moment he stepped into the Great Hall, dozens of eyes turned his way.

Right now, Sirius Black was the hottest topic in the castle, and right behind him was Harold, the student who had supposedly driven him off. Everyone was dying to know how Harold had managed it.

There were rumors that Harold had mastered some ancient magic passed down in the Ollivander family for over two thousand years—magic powerful enough to kill Sirius Black in a single strike.

The more bizarre the story, the more traction it gained. Many believed it without question and eagerly spread it to others, who in turn passed it along. The castle was buzzing with speculation.

By the time the rumor reached Harold, it had morphed into a complete, highly detailed tale—with a name, incantation, effects, history, and even a supposed origin for the spell.

Even Harold was stunned the first time he heard it. It sounded so convincing, he almost wondered if Garrick had been keeping some big secret from him.

But of course, that was impossible. They made wands—not spells.

"I didn't kill Sirius Black, and I have no idea what a 'Boomflash Blaster Hex' is… Seriously, who came up with that awful name? Couldn't they think of something halfway normal?" Harold muttered on the way to Charms class—for what felt like the hundredth time.

But that didn't stop the steady stream of students running up to him, begging him to teach them the Boomflash Blaster Hex—and offering to pay.

At first, Harold patiently explained that the spell didn't exist, that he didn't kill Sirius, and that the man had simply fled out of fear of the professors.

But it didn't help. No matter how dry his throat got, people kept asking.

Eventually, Harold stopped explaining altogether. When someone asked, he'd charge them one Galleon and teach them the "Flickering Lantern Charm."

It was a little charm Harold had picked up by accident in the library last year—just a simple household spell that made a lantern's light flicker rapidly, mostly used to add some ambiance to parties.

But visually, it actually kind of matched the legendary "Boomflash Blaster Hex."

In just a few days, Harold had earned over thirty Galleons, leaving Harry and the others dumbfounded.

"Wait, making money is this easy?"

In the common room, Harry stared at Harold, who was counting his Galleons, looking utterly lost. "Didn't you already show them what the spell does? Why would they still pay for it?"

"Beats me. Maybe they just think it looks cool," Harold shrugged, pocketing the thirty-seven Galleons he'd counted.

"They're dumb enough to believe a ridiculous rumor, so they probably don't know how to use Galleons properly either. Safer with me anyway."

"So are you going to give the money back?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely not," Harold blurted out without hesitation.

"But it's dishonest…" Hermione said uncertainly. "That's not the spell that drove away Sirius Black."

"Did I not tell them that?" Harold shot back. "Or did I not show them exactly what the spell does?"

Hermione opened her mouth but couldn't find the words.

"I told them, I showed them, but they didn't believe me. They kept pestering me," Harold said. "What else was I supposed to do? Make up a brand-new spell on the spot?"

"He's got a point," said Fred as he and George walked in.

"If you ask me, you're being too kind…"

"You should've charged ten Galleons…"

"Ten's too much," Harold shook his head. "If it got too expensive, the professors wouldn't turn a blind eye."

"Speaking of which, haven't any professors said anything to you?" Fred asked curiously.

"Nope," Harold replied.

"Not even Snape?"

"Nope," Harold said again.

Which he also found odd—because a Slytherin student had already tattled. Some second-year he didn't even know.

He hadn't complained because he felt scammed, but because after learning the spell, he changed his mind and threatened Harold—demanding a refund or he'd tell a professor.

Harold, of course, ignored him. So the kid went straight to Professor Snape.

But strangely, Harold had yet to hear a word from Snape… even though they'd had Potions that morning, and the professor hadn't said a thing.

"Maybe he figures Slytherins don't care about a single Galleon," Harold said after some thought.

"Oh, we definitely care about a single Galleon," George said through gritted teeth.

They didn't stay long—soon, Oliver Wood came looking for them and dragged Harry along too.

For them, one thing was even more important than Sirius Black—the first Quidditch match of the season, a showdown with rival Slytherin.

Gryffindor hadn't won three championships in a row in centuries. Under those circumstances, even if Sirius Black were standing in the middle of the pitch, they still wouldn't cancel practice.

But Professor McGonagall could.

"The match is canceled?" In the Great Hall, Oliver Wood stood up and shouted at Professor McGonagall, who was at the front. "Why? We've been training in the pouring rain! You can't just cancel it!"

"Because of the Dementors." McGonagall didn't seem to be in a good mood either, her lips pressed tightly together.

"One of them has gone missing inside Hogwarts. They're demanding permission to search the castle," she said coldly, her tone devoid of emotion—like Quirrell reading from a textbook.

Let the Dementors into the castle?

The Great Hall erupted. Students were talking over each other, their voices rising in an overwhelming buzz of panic and outrage.

For once, all four Houses were in agreement—everyone was against it, their protests growing louder and louder.

No one wanted those cold, soul-sucking creatures anywhere near them. No one wanted them inside the place where they lived.

Harry reacted strongly too. His face went pale, and the terrifying memory of the train ride flashed through his mind. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall had to press her wand to her throat and magically amplify her voice just to be heard.

"This is a Ministry directive," she continued in a flat, formal tone. "Minister Cornelius Fudge and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour will both be coming to investigate the missing Dementor."

"During this time, all school activities are suspended." She glanced at Oliver Wood. "That includes Quidditch."

"When can we play again, then?"

"I don't know. Maybe after they find that stupid Dementor." McGonagall offered no further explanation and hurriedly left the Hall.

…

(End of Chapter)