"...What is that?"
Ron was startled. He stared in the direction where the big black dog had disappeared, still holding a brick he'd just instinctively pulled from the low roadside wall. It was covered in fresh soil and had two curled-up pillbugs in its crevices.
Only after redirecting the brick did the boy slowly realize he was holding a wand, not a fire poker.
But Ron didn't dwell on it further; instead, he squinted his eyes, as if trying to recall, "So, was that dog just now... the one Hagrid adopted before?" He wasn't quite sure, because every dog Hagrid has kept, including the one with three heads, is a dark black color.
Given that it was indeed very late now, and Ms. Hooch had just chided them for playing too late, Ron didn't see it very clearly.
"...Seems like it?"
Harry opened his mouth... He felt he might be going crazy because in just that brief moment of eye contact, he somehow saw a range of complex and very human-like emotions such as pity and empathy on the dog's face, even though it was only for a moment, Harry really felt he saw it...
Was it an illusion?
"What's wrong with you?"
After three years together, Ron easily picked up on Harry's seemingly unsettled mood. He furrowed his brow and asked in confusion.
"...Just feels like I've seen it somewhere before?"
Harry mumbled a couple of vague statements, planning to easily move past the matter. After all, if he really said he'd seen such rich expressions on a dog's face, Ron's reaction would probably be to pat his forehead and then take him to see Madam Pomfrey...
'Maybe it's the training stress, or because you're too excited about the Firebolt...' Harry could predict what Ron would say.
"Oh, of course you've seen it!"
Ron nodded vigorously, last weekend they had visited Hagrid, and at that time the dog lay at Hagrid's feet, Neville even fed it a bit, although it seemed uninterested, so those dog biscuits ended up in Fang and Fluffy's stomachs.
Since the falling out with Hermione, there hasn't even been the mutual teasing anymore, let alone going to Hagrid's cabin together.
Hagrid was quite saddened by this, although he was happy to see Neville, who was one of the few little wizards performing well and attentively in his class. The fire salamanders Neville kept were even selected by Hagrid from his own fireplace for him.
Recently, Hagrid was having some trouble with his teaching progress. Harry heard him say more than once that their learning was too slow, and his big surprise wasn't useful at all... To this, Harry's comment was best never to use it—they didn't want to be attacked by a Manticore or a heap of Acromantulas in the Magical Creatures class.
'We've got to talk to Hagrid—'
That day, after leaving the cabin, Ron was still trembling. Just the thought of a swarm of spiders made him shiver involuntarily.
Interrupted by the sudden occurrence, Harry and Ron lost their interest in continuing the conversation, and quietly walked back to the tower. "Good evening, little rascals!" Sir Cadogan seemed full of energy, but Harry wasn't in the mood for conversation, so he said the password and crawled into the common room—
Having declined the Weasley Twins' invitation to the celebration, which hadn't even reached halftime before the champagne was brought out, Harry lay on his bed holding the Firebolt.
After cleaning up, Ron entered the dormitory too. He first unlocked the bedside cabinet to check on Scabbers, because today he was riding the Firebolt, for once he didn't bring it along, and worrying that Hermione's cat might attack again, Ron added a lock to the cabinet.
Seems like the effort paid off; Crookshanks evidently wouldn't use an unlocking charm.
After placing some food beside Scabbers again, Ron closed the drawer and lay on the bed.
"Good night."
Switching off the bedside lamp, the two boys exchanged good nights. Soon after, Ron's snoring began to echo in the dormitory, while Harry stared with open eyes at the canopy above, slightly dazing—he couldn't sleep. For some unknown reason, whenever Harry closed his eyes, he saw those pitch-black dog eyes.
That pair of eyes, laden with melancholy.
...Wait, he seemed to recall where he had seen those eyes before.
...
...
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
The next morning, Hermione encountered Harry with bloodshot eyes in the common room.
Without the usual armful of books today, she simply had a small canvas bag at her side, and her face even showed a hint of joy. Harry was a bit puzzled, knowing that although Hermione never missed a Quidditch match, she was clearly not interested in the sport, more joining the crowd for camaraderie.
Yes, today was match day between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.
"...Sort of."
Harry yawned, nodding listlessly.
His mind kept replaying recent events last night, he went to bed at eight or nine, but didn't sleep until three or four. When Ron called him earlier, he almost didn't wake up, so Ron went downstairs to eat breakfast with the others, leaving Harry yawning while getting ready.
Harry, holding the Firebolt, chatted with Hermione while walking down the stairs. As he pushed open the great hall doors, he was hit with a cascade of colorful fireworks.