When it came to breaking school rules, Fred and George were unquestionably experienced—so much so that, true to their word, Professor Sprout hadn't actually seen them that night.
Though she and Hagrid had done a sweep around the Whomping Willow afterward, it hadn't escalated to a full-blown investigation of the student dormitories.
The only real consequence Harold felt was that Professor Sprout had suddenly taken a lot more interest in the Whomping Willow.
For a long while afterward, every attempt Harold made to sneak out and grab another branch ended in failure.
Every single time, before he could even get close, his lookout—Tom—would screech an urgent warning.
Which meant someone was nearby. Maybe Professor Sprout, maybe Filch, maybe someone else. Whatever the case, it was too risky.
Harold would always turn back immediately.
Thankfully, no one suspected a thing. Hogwarts allowed cats as pets, after all—no one questioned meowing at night.
Still, Harold was extremely frustrated.
All because of Fred and George's little stunt.
If they hadn't charged out that first night, he might've been able to collect a few more branches at least.
Every time he saw them, he gave them the cold shoulder.
They didn't complain—because, honestly, they'd blown it.
Harold had come back unscathed with a whole branch in hand. They'd returned empty-handed and managed to make Professor Sprout suspicious.
They couldn't argue with results.
On the plus side, the incident did bring the three of them closer. There was a real "kindred spirits" vibe now.
Fred had even said, "That Sorting Hat really gets people—you're pure Gryffindor, through and through."
To which Harold had promptly gotten more annoyed and mentally added the Sorting Hat to his list. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝓷𝓮𝓽
He even debated making the perfect wand shaft he'd just carved from Whomping Willow bark and giving it to the Hat.
Originally, that wand shaft was meant to be paired with another acromantula leg—but once Harold had finished it, he hesitated.
Something about this piece had just clicked. Maybe it was how long he'd been planning it, maybe it was just pure inspiration—but the final result was flawless.
Elasticity, strength, balance—all of it was impeccable. And when he carved runes onto it, they resonated with magical energy.
Even without a core, it had already begun reacting to magic.
Let's put it this way: if Garrick Ollivander had made this, he'd have reserved a prime unicorn tail hair for it.
In comparison, using an acromantula leg as a core felt beneath it. Maybe a brain or a heart—that could work.
So Harold decided to wait.
As for the second acromantula leg, well… if he could ever get another branch from the Whomping Willow, maybe then.
Otherwise, grapevine would do just fine.
Which left him with one very good shaft, but no immediate core. And not much time, either.
The school year was drawing to a close, and the professors had gone mad with final assignments.
Even first-years were drowning in work.
It was during one of these haze-filled nights that Harold got the distinct feeling he was forgetting something important.
But every time he stopped to think, his mind came up blank.
Eventually he just gave up and buried himself back in his textbooks.
Until the weekend before finals.
"What? You want to cut down the Whomping Willow? Together?" Harold stared at the twins like they'd grown extra heads.
"You do remember how badly you got whacked last time, right? And that Professor Sprout still hasn't stopped looking for whoever messed with it?"
"Shhh!" Fred hissed, glancing around and dragging Harold to a quieter corner.
"That's exactly why we came to you," he said. "You must have some way to avoid getting smashed to bits. You got back safe and sound with a branch, didn't you?"
Harold pursed his lips, saying nothing.
"No worries—we're not asking," George said quickly.
"Just like you've never asked us about all our secret passages."
"We're thinking we team up."
"Team up how?" Harold asked warily.
Fred didn't answer immediately. Instead, he grinned.
"You've been out there a few times recently, haven't you?"
"…And didn't get anything," Harold said, frowning.
"No need to deny it—we saw you." George smirked.
"Every time you went out, you had to turn back."
"And every time, it was just in time."
Fred leaned in. "You do know you've had ridiculously good luck, right? Sprout was right nearby almost every time. If you hadn't gone back exactly when you did, you'd have been caught."
Harold didn't respond, but the pieces were clicking into place.
They definitely had that map.
He hadn't realized it could show the grounds outside the castle.
The twins, meanwhile, were still guessing.
Was Harold just that lucky? Or did he have some secret method of his own?
Either way, it didn't matter.
"Just say it," Harold said, cutting to the point. "How exactly do you want to work together?"
"We know when Professor Sprout isn't patrolling," Fred said. "There's a window of time when the area around the Willow is completely clear."
"We'll keep watch. If anyone shows up, we'll alert you immediately."
"All you need to do is focus on harvesting. No sneaking, no scouting."
"In return… we split the haul, fifty-fifty."
"No." Harold shook his head without hesitation. "Seventy-thirty. I'm the one putting myself in danger."
"Sixty-forty. That's as low as we'll go," George said firmly. "Information matters. Without us, you can't even reach the tree."
They were serious. Harold hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"Pleasure doing business," Fred and George said, both holding out their hands.
"Yeah, yeah…" Harold muttered, shaking both. "Just so we're clear—if I do get caught, I'm throwing you both under the bus."
"Oh, you definitely belong in Slytherin," George said with a dramatic gasp—though he was grinning ear to ear.
"Too late now," Harold smirked. "Gryffindor got to me first."
"Let's hope you stay that lucky," Fred said.
And so the partnership began.