After a sprint through the halls, Harold finally burst into the classroom just in time, slipping into his seat right as the professor began calling roll.
Yes, even though he was a ghost, Professor Binns still took attendance at the start of every class. No one really knew how he managed to recognize students—if he even did. Maybe it was just habit. Fresh chapters posted on 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍
Once his name was called, Harold slumped over his desk, his eyelids growing heavy and his vision starting to blur.
Sunlight streamed through the grid-like windows, its beams weaving together like strands of silver unicorn tail hair wrapped around ancient runes.
The weather was just right—not too hot or cold. And paired with Professor Binns' voice, which sounded like it had been soaked in a sleeping draught, it would've been a crime not to fall asleep.
Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.
Through the haze, Harold vaguely heard someone talking. He tried to ignore it, but the voice just kept going, getting louder and louder.
"Did Professor McGonagall really put you on the Gryffindor team?"
"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face? He looked like he swallowed a Bludger."
"That's a Nimbus 2000! The fastest broom there is!"
"Harry, can I ride it for like… ten minutes?"
The voice buzzed in his ears like a swarm of Cornish pixies, and Harold debated whether he should politely ask Ron to shut up.
But then the conversation shifted.
"Is he asleep?" That was still Ron.
"Probably," Harry replied. "Neville said Harold's been working on something. Hasn't been sleeping till really late. Last night too—remember? His light was still on when we got back."
"He's really… dedicated," Ron muttered.
"Whatever. As long as he can't hear us." Ron's voice dropped, conspiratorial now.
"Last night was intense! I can't believe Malfoy turned out to be such a coward. He set up the duel—and then never showed."
"I think he tipped off Filch," Harry said. "There's no way it was a coincidence Filch just happened to show up."
"That slimy git." Ron scoffed. "We almost became midnight snacks for that three-headed beast… Still, thinking about it, it was kind of exciting. We actually got away from a three-headed dog!"
"Why would Dumbledore keep something that dangerous in the school?"
"Hermione said it was guarding something, remember?"
"Ugh, don't even mention her," Ron groaned. "She seriously thought getting expelled was worse than getting eaten. She's nuts."
"…I think she made a good point," Harry said hesitantly.
"You've lost it too." But Ron didn't press the issue.
"So what do you think it was guarding?"
"I don't know," Harry said, lowering his voice. "But… maybe it has something to do with that vault 713?"
"The one that got broken into?" Ron asked—far too loudly.
"Keep your voice down!" Harry hissed. Once Ron nodded, he continued, "Yeah, that one. Hagrid took something from it, and now Hogwarts has a secret room guarded by a three-headed dog. Bit obvious, isn't it?"
Someone swallowed hard.
"Must be something really valuable," Ron said. "Gold, probably."
"Doubt it," Harry replied. "I saw it for a second—it was just a grubby little pouch. If it were gold, they wouldn't need to bring it to Hogwarts or have a giant dog guarding it."
Ron mumbled something too quiet to catch.
"I said… what do you think's inside it?"
"No idea. Could be a diamond," Harry guessed. "It's a kind of gemstone. My aunt Petunia has a necklace with one—tiny, smaller than a bean—but she treats it like treasure. Only wears it on special occasions."
"Sounds expensive," Ron said. "But Muggle jewelry doesn't mean much to wizards. Goblins are terrible with prices. Maybe it's the recipe for Chocolate Frogs. That'd be worth protecting—they're the best chocolate ever."
"But why would that be at Hogwarts?"
"Maybe someone asked Dumbledore to keep it safe."
The two chatted away, getting more animated by the second.
By now, Harold had a pretty clear picture.
So last night, they had agreed to a midnight duel with Malfoy—but he bailed.
Instead of a duel, they got Filch, and in trying to escape him, they—along with Hermione, apparently—had ended up in the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor.
And inside that room, they saw a trapdoor guarded by a giant, three-headed dog.
And now Harry was speculating that the thing it was guarding might be what Hagrid had retrieved from Gringotts vault 713.
Hmm… a three-headed dog…
Harold wasn't sleepy anymore.
He opened his eyes and stared directly at Harry and Ron, who both jumped in fright.
"You—you weren't asleep?" Ron's voice cracked.
"I was trying to sleep. Then you two decided to re-enact your greatest hits at full volume," Harold said, yawning. "Next time you're sharing top-secret info, maybe try whispering?"
Harry and Ron flushed red, then pale, then red again, stumbling over their words.
"Don't worry," Harold said, waving a hand. "I won't tell anyone."
"No problem." He paused. "But I am curious—you actually went in there?"
"That forbidden room on the fourth floor."
"Oh—yeah, we did," Harry confirmed. Ron nodded beside him.
Seeing Harold's genuine interest, they started to relax.
At eleven years old, bragging came naturally—and Harold was a willing audience.
"There's definitely a reason the headmaster doesn't want people in there. That dog was at least ten feet tall."
Ron held his hand up ridiculously high to demonstrate, clearly trying to emphasize the danger.
"Incredible," Harold said, clicking his tongue.
"Just dumb luck," Ron muttered. "I don't want to go through that again."
Even so, the barely contained excitement on both of their faces said otherwise.
"So how'd you get in?" Harold asked, trying to sound casual. "Didn't run into any professors?"
"No," Harry said after thinking. "We were running from Filch for ages—totally lost. That corridor was just the first place we could duck into."
"Yeah, we didn't even know what floor we were on," Ron added.