Harold had considered going after the three-headed dog. In fact, that was one of the biggest reasons he'd been so eager to attend Hogwarts.
A magical creature so ancient and rare—on par with a phoenix—what wandmaker could resist?
So ever since term started, Harold had made more than a few trips to the fourth floor. But he'd never seen the dog—not even gotten close to the locked door.
He remembered his first attempt clearly. It was the first weekend after school started, 2 a.m.—the drowsiest time of night. He thought he was being clever, thought nothing could go wrong.
Then he nearly ran headfirst into Professor McGonagall patrolling the corridor.
Luckily, Fred and George were also out for a night-time stroll and managed to drag him away through a secret passage.
If they hadn't, he might've been caught right then and there.
After that, Harold learned his lesson. If nighttime meant patrols, then he'd go in the daytime.
So his second attempt was at 3:20 on a Friday afternoon.
Same hallway. This time, he ran into Astronomy Professor Aurora Sinistra. But it was perfect timing—class started at 3:30, so he just claimed he was lost.
Professor Sinistra didn't suspect a thing. She even helpfully walked him to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
His third attempt wasn't even personal—he sent Tom to scout ahead.
Tom was promptly caught by another tabby cat. That is to say, by Professor McGonagall in her Animagus form. He was then "detained" for a few days… to "study the school rules" (pet edition).
Being so easily caught by another feline—even if that feline was a witch—left Tom in a deep slump for days. He only got over it after soundly beating up Mrs. Norris again.
But none of that was the main issue.
The real issue? Professor McGonagall was using her Animagus form to stake out the fourth floor!
Wasn't that a bit much? Using teachers like booby traps?
After that encounter, Harold gave up trying to approach the dog.
Though, in hindsight, it made him wonder—was running into Fred and George that first night really just a coincidence?
Dumbledore had specifically warned during the start-of-term feast: "Those who don't wish to die a most painful death should stay away from the right-side corridor on the fourth floor."
Fred and George—rule-breakers to their core—would never resist poking their noses into a place like that. Yet all this time, Harold had subtly probed them for information and never once had they mentioned the room.
That could only mean they'd never gotten in.
Even with the Marauder's Map that could track everyone inside the castle.
And yet Harry and his friends—completely by accident—had just strolled right in?
It was hard to believe the professors weren't nearby.
Which could only mean one thing: they were allowed to get in.
Harold smacked his thigh in frustration.
How could he forget something so obvious?
That room was part of Dumbledore's "training ground" for Harry, so of course he'd be allowed a sneak peek. Orıginal content can be found at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✶𝕟𝕖𝕥
And with Ron, Hermione, and Neville tagging along, clearly Dumbledore didn't mind an audience.
If Harold had just made up some excuse—like "trying to stop them from breaking the rules"—he might've gotten in too.
And in the chaos? Pulling a few hairs from the dog would've been easy.
He sighed. Malfoy was truly the worst. Why couldn't he have picked a different night for a duel?
"You okay?" Ron asked, eyeing Harold nervously as he sighed and smacked his own leg.
Harold looked… intense. Slightly terrifying, even.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Harold replied, forcing a smile.
Even so, Harry and Ron didn't push the conversation any further.
Harold wasn't really in the mood to talk either. The rest of History of Magic was dull as ever—maybe even worse than usual.
His lack of focus bled into Charms class too. Professor Flitwick's words drifted past him without sticking. Luckily, today's lesson was on the Mending Charm, which he already knew. During the end-of-class review, he performed it perfectly, earning Gryffindor two more points.
One step closer to his personal goal of scoring twenty points.
After the morning classes ended, Harold joined the others heading to the Great Hall for lunch—and made a point of approaching Harry and Ron.
"You… feeling better?" Harry asked, a bit hesitant.
"I was never feeling bad. Just didn't sleep well last night," Harold said breezily.
That wasn't a lie. But the truth was, he'd just had an epiphany.
Sure, the three-headed dog was valuable. But Professor McGonagall's wand? That was important.
Especially the incredibly rare [Camouflage] trait it had.
What if that trait disappeared later?
If he had to choose between a trait that boosted Animagus transformation success, and the dog… he'd choose the trait in a heartbeat.
Some things were once-in-a-lifetime. The dog, on the other hand, wasn't going anywhere.
Besides, he did still have a chance—there was one special opportunity, one specific moment when he could slip in unnoticed.
That idea struck him during Charms class, the moment he saw the pumpkins laid out as props.
According to Hogwarts tradition, the Halloween feast was a major event, second only to the start-of-term and Christmas feasts.
On that night, performers were invited to entertain. Every professor—even Dumbledore—would be in the Great Hall. Which meant no one would be guarding that door.
Easy. Just let Tom loose. After being thrashed twice, Mrs. Norris now fled the moment she saw him. And where she went, Filch would follow.
The more Harold thought about it, the more doable it seemed.
Sure, Dumbledore and Snape were probably watching Quirrell. But they wouldn't bother keeping tabs on a random first-year.
And Harold didn't care about the Philosopher's Stone anyway. He just wanted the dog's fur. No conflict of interest.
Of course, there was always the more straightforward option—asking Hagrid, the dog's owner, for help.
That would've been safest. But not anytime soon. Fluffy was "on loan" to Dumbledore and had a job to do. Hagrid wasn't likely to come along and yank out a few tufts just to help a student.
He'd have to wait till the end of the year, when everything settled down.
But waiting months? Harold didn't have the patience for that.
No, Halloween was the better choice.
Get in, grab the fur, and get out. As long as he timed it right, he wouldn't even interrupt the moment when Snape got his leg chomped.
With his plan in place, Harold felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He wasn't tired anymore, and even found the energy to chat with Harry as they walked into the Great Hall.