Not long after the owls flew into the castle, Professor McGonagall suddenly stood up from the staff table.
At the same time, the castle doors swung open. Cornelius Fudge and Scrimgeour entered from outside, moving and looking exactly as Harold had seen them in the crystal ball.
After a full day of rest, Scrimgeour had recovered, but as he passed the Gryffindor table, he still couldn't help glancing at Harold.
Harold kept a perfectly blank expression, pretending to know nothing as he joined the others in whispering about the newcomers.
Then Dumbledore arrived.
He came in through the side door, not wearing his usual calm smile. Instead, he looked sharply at Fudge, his expression uncharacteristically stern.
It was obvious to everyone: Dumbledore was angry.
"You must try to understand, Albus," Fudge said, nervously fiddling with his bowler hat. "The Dementors…"
"Minister, I don't believe this is the time or place," Dumbledore interrupted him.
Only then did Fudge seem to realize how many students were still present. What he was about to say probably wasn't suitable for young ears.
"Head Boy and Girl, and all Prefects," Dumbledore called out loudly.
Percy shot to his feet, spine straight as a broomstick, standing so tall and stiff he looked like a goalpost in a school uniform.
"I'd like you to escort your Houses back to their common rooms," Dumbledore said. "Once things are over, I'll send word through the ghosts. Until then, I hope everyone will stay calmly in their common rooms—chat a bit, maybe play some wizard chess."
"I want our Prefects and Head Students to ensure that not a single student is wandering the castle halls while this is going on."
Percy puffed up even more and gave every Gryffindor a scrutinizing look—lingering particularly long on Fred and George.
"We're not idiots," Fred grumbled. "We're not giving the Dementors an excuse to hurt anyone."
"We only enjoy late-night strolls," George added with a glare. "And it's daytime now."
With the Prefects and student leaders leading the way, everyone began filing out of the Great Hall in an orderly fashion, heading back to their dormitories.
Harold walked with the rest of them. When they reached a corridor on the eighth floor, he casually pushed open a small window and leaned out to look.
"Oh, they're here—the Dementors."
At his words, the others hurried over.
Outside, the world looked even darker than before. A bolt of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating hundreds of black, ghostlike figures gliding through the storm.
Dementors.
For a moment, it felt like a wave of icy cold swept over everyone. Students instinctively rubbed their arms, shivering.
"Bloody hell, there's so many of them," Seamus muttered, hand over his mouth.
"Makes sense. The castle's huge—they'd need a lot."
"Hope none of them stays behind."
"The Headmaster and professors would never allow it."
"I wouldn't be so sure. Out of hundreds, who's gonna notice if one or two are missing?"
"Enough!" Percy barked. "Harold, close that window. The rest of you—keep moving. We need to return to the common room."
A few younger students immediately scampered after him, terrified that if they didn't hurry, they'd be locked out and stuck in the hall with the Dementors.
Harold shut the window with a click and gave it an extra push for good measure before following the others.
Inside the Gryffindor common room, a roaring fire burned in the hearth, quickly warming everyone up and chasing away the cold they'd brought in with them.
Fred and George had clearly planned ahead. The moment they squeezed through the portrait hole, they raced to the best seats—right by the fire.
Then they pushed a table and some armchairs together and unloaded sandwiches, fried sausages, and bottles of pumpkin fizz they'd smuggled from the Great Hall—spreading everything out in an impressive feast.
"You guys…" Ron stared at them in disbelief. He'd wanted a seat near the fire too, but Fred and George were already tucking napkins into their collars and slicing into the sausages.
"If we have to wait in here, we might as well do it comfortably," Fred said.
"Exactly." George nodded. "We didn't finish eating earlier. Want anything?"
Ron hesitated.
He'd spent most of breakfast dodging falling water from the owls—he hadn't eaten much at all.
"Thanks… I'll take a sandwich," Ron said.
"No problem," Fred said, holding out a hand. "Two Sickles."
"What?" Ron stared at him. "That's school food—you're charging me for it?!"
"Yep," George said without shame. "Or you can go get your own from the kitchens."
Ron immediately pictured the Dementors hovering in the storm outside.
There was no way he was leaving the common room until the ghosts gave the all-clear.
"I'm your brother!" Ron protested, hoping to appeal to their sense of family.
"Exactly," said Fred.
"That's why we're only charging you."
"Wait—only me?!" Ron asked, confused.
But he soon understood. Harold casually grabbed a sandwich without a word, and Fred didn't say a thing about payment.
Same for Neville, Angelina, Oliver, Hermione, and Ginny—they helped themselves freely.
"You can't be serious…" Ron's face went pale. "Ginny's your sister too! Why didn't you charge her?!"
The twins froze mid-bite, turning to him with identical looks of horror.
"Do you hear yourself?" Fred said, scandalized.
"Charging our own sister?"
"Didn't think you were that kind of person, Ron!" Fred gave him a disgusted look.
"I'm not—I didn't—" Ron's ears turned bright red. "It's you two, not me!"
"We didn't charge our sister," George said coolly. Then, mimicking Percy's tone, "Ron, we will be writing to Mum about this."
Laughter broke out around the room.
And so, a strange scene unfolded: outside, hundreds of Dementors circled the castle, frost coated the stone walls and lawns… but inside the Gryffindor common room, laughter filled the air.
Harold finished his sandwich and gave his seat to Ron, then turned to head upstairs.
"Where are you going?" Fred asked.
"Back to the dormitory," Harold said. "There's nothing to do down here, so I might as well finish a few more wands."
He returned to the dorm, pointed his wand at the door lock—
Click.
The door sealed tight. No Alohomora would open it from the outside.
Then he opened the window and fixed it ajar with a sticking charm, just enough to leave a gap. In the next moment, Harold transformed into a sleek black cat and slipped outside.
He couldn't rest easy. Sitting around and waiting in the common room, not knowing what was happening, wasn't his style. He preferred seeing things for himself.
Besides, Dementors weren't good at sensing animal emotions. As long as he avoided Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore—who might recognize him—he'd be fine. It wasn't too difficult.
The storm outside still raged, wind howling.
Then, for a brief moment, the wind paused.
Harold took his chance. He darted along the narrow ledge outside the window, paws steady despite the rain, and quickly reached a closed window.
After checking his position, he unsheathed his claws and gently hooked a spot beneath the frame. With a light flick, the window popped open.
Harold slipped silently into the castle.
…
(End of Chapter)