At King's Cross Station, Sirius was hidden among the luggage carts, easily fooling the station workers.
Once Harold passed through the barrier at Platform 9¾, Sirius jumped down and leapt onto the train before anyone had time to notice.
Harold didn't ask where he planned to go—if Sirius had managed to hide on the trip back, he could certainly do it again now.
Just like before the holidays, Harold shared a compartment on the train with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan.
This time, however, Ginny was with them too. It seemed she'd had a fight with her friends and wasn't in the best mood.
"Cheer up, think of something fun," said Fred.
"What fun?" she muttered.
"Well, term's starting—you'll learn new spells," George offered.
"And get new homework," added Fred.
"New exams."
"New point deductions…" Fred grinned. "I remember your first class tomorrow is Potions, right?"
Ginny's mood darkened even more. She really should've expected that from Fred and George—what sort of comfort were they ever going to offer?
By evening, the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station.
Professor Flitwick and Hagrid were waiting at the platform. First-years followed Hagrid to the boats, while the rest of the students boarded the carriages under Flitwick's supervision.
"That's odd," George said, frowning as he settled into the carriage. "Why's Professor Flitwick here?"
"Yeah, professors don't usually greet us after Christmas," Fred added.
"Could it be about Sirius Black?" Ginny asked worriedly. "Did he come to Hogwarts again over the holidays to try and kill Harry?"
"I doubt it," Harold said without hesitation.
Sirius had spent the entire break in Diagon Alley—hundreds of miles away from Hogwarts. No way he could've shown up at the castle.
Come to think of it, Harold hadn't seen Sirius at all.
He leaned out the carriage window, scanning the dark surroundings. It was nearly pitch black now—Sirius should've stood out easily. But there was no sign of him.
Maybe he'd run off early… or was still hiding somewhere on the train.
"In any case, something clearly happened at the castle," Fred said grimly, and the carriage fell into silence.
Soon, the carriages began to move toward the castle on their own.
Harold, unlike most others, could clearly see what was pulling them.
A special kind of magical creature: gaunt, skeletal horses with leathery bat-like wings.
Thestrals.
They could only be seen by those who had witnessed death firsthand.
Harold had been able to see them since first year, after using that single-use wand in Knockturn Alley. It was a quiet memory, but one that stayed with him.
Minutes later, the carriage stopped at the castle gates. Fred and George were first to jump down and rush up the stone steps toward the entrance.
Harold glanced once at the swish of a Thestral's tail, then at Professor McGonagall waiting by the doors. She could definitely see the Thestrals too—and she'd definitely seen him looking.
Without hesitation, Harold turned and followed the others up the steps into the castle.
Ginny followed close behind.
They all headed straight for the portrait at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room on the eighth floor.
The Fat Lady's holiday wasn't over yet, so their stand-in was still Sir Cadogan.
"Password!" the knight bellowed, brandishing his little sword at them.
They'd been told on the train.
"Filthy mongrel dog," Fred said uncertainly.
"And you too, good sir!" Sir Cadogan declared proudly, swinging his portrait open to reveal the passageway.
"I kind of miss the Fat Lady," Ginny muttered.
But no one had the patience to think about weird passwords now. As soon as the entrance opened, they rushed into the common room.
Thankfully…
Harry, Hermione, and Ron—the three who had stayed behind over the holidays—were all safe and accounted for.
No one was missing.
They let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Looks like Sirius hasn't gone crazy enough to break into Hogwarts again," Fred whispered.
"And we won't need a new Seeker after all," George added. "That's worth at least a hundred fireworks."
But it didn't take long to realize something was off.
The atmosphere in the common room felt… weird.
The trio were sitting strangely far apart.
Harry and Ron were by the fireplace, while Hermione was on the farthest armchair from it, nose buried in a book. There was practically the entire common room between them.
Honestly, the distance between them and Malfoy in class was usually shorter than this.
"Aren't they best friends?" Fred whispered curiously.
"A fight?" George guessed.
"Obviously," Harold replied.
As more students trickled in, the odd tension in the room was quickly drowned out by noise and laughter.
Still, Harry and Ron seemed off—distracted and not fully engaged with anyone else.
It wasn't until after dinner that the truth finally came out.
"What did you just say?" Fred's eyes widened like never before. He stared at Oliver Wood in disbelief. "You're telling me we had a Firebolt… and Professor McGonagall—our own Head of House—took it and tore it apart?!"
"Please don't make me say it again," Oliver muttered from the armchair, eyes hollow as he stared at the fire.
"You know what I saw when I went to her office?" Oliver's voice trembled like the flames. "They dismantled it. The beautiful bristles laid out piece by piece… The polished ash handle split right down the middle…"
His voice choked. His fists clenched tight.
"How could they… That was a Firebolt… This should be a crime."
Fred and George finally understood why the common room had felt so tense when they first arrived.
Because it had been Hermione who told Professor McGonagall.
She told her that Harry had received a mysterious, unmarked gift—one that could very well have come from Sirius Black.
McGonagall took her seriously and promptly confiscated the Firebolt.
Forget Harry and Ron—the news alone was enough to make their blood pressure spike.
No wonder they were sitting so far apart. Honestly, it was a miracle they weren't already shouting.
They understood Hermione's logic.
A notorious fugitive escaped from Azkaban, possibly out to kill Harry… and then a top-tier broom appears with no sender or message?
Checking it for jinxes was absolutely the right call.
They got that.
But still… it was a Firebolt.
The best broom in the world.
Owning one meant a near guarantee of winning the Quidditch Cup.
So yeah… even if Hermione had done the right thing, it didn't stop them from being mad.
…
(End of Chapter)